A/N - Yeah, I know: it's been a LONG time since I've updated this story...or my profile...don't hurt me! (braces for more brick-throwing) I'm trying to find the rest of the files that I'm missing, and I have to play "fill-in-the-plot-holes" with my older stuff too.

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy 7...otherwise, I'd be livin' large! :P

Chapter 11

Another day came to a start, and the group was finishing up with restocking for the trip, though he wasn't sure as to where they would be going to next. Since his body made sure he wouldn't forget about the hundreds of other strains, aches, and pains he had sustained from the lightning blast he had caused, Rollin stayed at the inn and tried to get some rest. It was a mighty big stretch for him at the moment. Just when he was getting comfortable with the thought of sleeping, a voice spoke as if from the shadows, calling to him. It was faint, but he could definitely hear it. His eyes shot open, looking around to find the source, but to no avail.

'Just try to ignore it.' He goaded himself, closing his eyes again and rolling over in his bed. Yet again he heard that voice, but considerably louder this time: it was definitely a female voice, as compared to the more masculine tone of the one from earlier that night. He heard a door open and footsteps heading towards him; he could tell that whoever entered was trying to be as quiet as possible, but with his ears he was able to hear it clearly and amplified to a point.

'Wake up!' he heard the male voice yell in his head in apprehension, as if expecting an assassin or something of the sort. Rollin bolted straight up to a sitting position, eyes wide open. Not seeing any immediate threat, he groaned and brought his hands to his head in frustration at his newly developed situation.

"I really got to get these voices out of my head." He muttered, somewhat aware that the person that came in had taken a seat on the bed next to him.

"So, you can hear it too?" the woman asked. From the sound of it, Aeris was that person; oddly enough, Rollin had been able to pick up on people's voices rather quickly both in the past and present. He chuckled softly.

"I wish I didn't, but—" he stopped mid-sentence; 'Did she just say what I thought she said?' he pondered, still not sure if he heard right, "Wait…so I'm not the only one hearing this?" moving his head back to being upright and no longer resting his forehead on his hands, he looked over at Aeris, who nodded. He scratched his head, "Then you know what it is?" again, she nodded.

"The Planet." She replied simply, leaving him even more confused until his memory brought up the conversation with Michael on the shuttle. The words flashed through his mind like lightning bolts.

'The Cetra: a race that had a connection to the planet...not so much physically as it was telepathically.' He concluded in his mind, 'If this is the case, then that must mean I'm…' he stopped pondering about it and let his vocal cords do the work.

"Then that must mean that I'm a Cetra." He said, this time earning a shrug in response.

"Possibly." The whole idea wasn't making all that much sense to him, though; for one, everyone on Cyphus spoke of the Cetra as if they existed only in the ancient history of mankind (which could be seen as plausible, given when exactly he had shown up here on the time line), but he had learned of their existence on his home world, as well. And it was of no surprise that there had been a mix between the two races, but that would mean that his parents were…

'Not likely; I don't remember hearing voices that early on.' He silently pondered before temporarily abandoning the idea; he would have to read those research papers in-depth.

"If you're coming with us, then you might want something other than just those rags for clothes." She pointed out, causing him to look at what was left of his shirt which was adorned with burnt holes, claw marks, and various bullet holes – the bullet holes confused him slightly, of all things, as to how they got there; probably from their escape – before looking back at Aeris.

"I guess I would be easier to spot wearing these." He replied with a smirk. Standing up, he left the inn in order to complete the only task he was never good at, regardless of the military training he had been through: shopping.

This would be different.

"Watch where you're goin', kid!" the man yelled at the newly clothed Rollin Howell.

The whole ordeal of finding garments was finished, leaving him with clothes that not only offered some sort of protection from both the elements and anything that might deem him as edible (or any form of prey), but functionality in the way of concealing his guns and metal claw: in essence, a red trench coat, though the left sleeve was longer than the right (by accident, of all things), which suited him perfectly; along with regular pants and a shirt, he looked somewhat less like an ex-lab rat. Paying for them, however, wouldn't have been possible if it was not for everyone's help with pitching in the cash. And now, he must have bumped into this person during his silent contemplation. From the sound of his voice, he had already started off having a bad day and wasn't going to put up with anything that would make it any more detrimental.

"…Sorry." He replied simply, starting off for the inn again before being grabbed by the shoulder and spun around to face the gruff man. Did he break something by mistake? By this time, someone else decided to join the dispute; just as heavy as the other man, and probably one of his friends. Not really reacting to any of this new possible threat's acts of forced cooperation Rollin was pushed towards the other man, who stuck his foot out in an attempt to trip their new target of frustration; he let himself fall, but quickly caught himself before his face came in contact with the pavement. Pushing himself up with lightning speed he jabbed the man who had tripped him in the jaw with his right elbow, and spun around to face the other man; his right hand released it's respective pistol from its holster and pointed it at his attacker's face, squarely in between his widened eyes and in a motion that made it seem to be second nature.

Backing away with his arms held up defensively, the man ran off into one of the alleyways, leaving Rollin alone and surrounded by daily commuters – most shocked because of what happened, some awed by his adept "self-defense", all fearful of getting on his bad side. Letting out a small "humph", he holstered his gun and turned back towards his intended destination.

If that man had the idiocy to hold a grudge, then this would become very interesting very quickly.

A/N - yes, I will be posting two, maybe three chapters for this one tonight...just to get the gears moving again. :)

Until next chapter,

Lloyd Redgrave