OF A PURE HEART, A FALLEN KNIGHT AND THE ONE – WINGED ANGELS

----------------------------------------- Disclaimer: ------------------------------------------

To the Reader and the Lawyers:

Final Fantasy VII, and all the characters, including Aeris and Sephiroth, Cloud, Tifa, Barret, Vincent, Yuffie, Red, Cid, Cait Sith (Reeve), Ifalna, Professor Gast, Lucrecia, Professor Hojo Frankenstein, Jenova the Mad, Rufus (any anyone I may have inadvertently missed out) are property of Square Enix Co, formerly Squaresoft LLC. Tell me if my disclaimer ain't good enough. I will reward you with a few thousand Chibi - Aeriths dosed to the nines with Hypers, and they shall hug you and squeeze you and kiss you and have a lot of fun with you (you know how… challenging Chibi - Aeriths are from the humour fanfics here).

To other Fanfic Writers (This is more important!) Plagiarism Note:

There are a lot of Aeriseph fanfics around here. I've tried my best to stay as original as possible, but it's a bit hard to write this type of story without treading on someone's toes by accident along the line. Please, if you feel that I may have 'borrowed' some of your concepts or ideas by mistake, notify me immediately. Email a "cease and desist" message to me, point out where I have gone wrong, and I will act immediately to remove or modify the offending section(s).

Thank you very, very much for your understanding and tolerance.

We ain't doin' nothing sitting around here readin' this, let's get to it!

--------------------------------------- End of Disclaimer: ---------------------------------------

LABOURS OF LOVE

What was the time now? The sun had just come up, but still the room seemed so grey and dark. Her little girl had left her, gone to enjoy herself, and now that her playful laughter and the patter of her small feet were all gone, she could not hear a sound. She was alone in the house again. She was all by herself again.

She sat on the bed, feeling more and more unwilling to get up each day. How many times had she been marooned like this, left to her own island, left to live on her own? Her husband had left her, gone to fight for Shinra, gone to heed a higher call. Every day she had written a letter to him, begging him to come back at the first opportunity, asking him not to leave her like this. She had been so happy when he announced at last that he'd been given home leave, and every day she had waited at the Midgar train station, praying that she would see her husband waving from the first morning train, the only one that held SOLDIERs returning from battle. But still he did not come back. Every day she had seen so many happy and smiling faces as the gaunt and tired warriors were embraced by their lovers and children, their long and harrowing wait bearing fruit at last. She had seen hundreds of them alight each day, so many of them, but why was it that her husband was never among them? Every day she had cried, the tearful reunions driving her to tears, the irony of it all making her more and more depressed every hour.

Until she saw that someone else was crying. That little girl. While she still could hold a faint and distant hope that her husband would return some day, the child was so much more unfortunate. The girl's mother had crawled towards her with torn hands and feet, covered with blood, pleading with her dying breath, asking her to take care of the child. She had accepted the poor dead lady's request, for she was in pain, and the girl was in pain too. If she were to live alone any longer, she would surely go mad, and she needed someone to give her life purpose, to keep her whole, at least for a little while longer. And the girl was… special. How could she resist those huge puppy dog eyes? That large toothless grin that spread from ear to ear when she had said "yes"? The way the youngster ran circles around her, bouncing up and down with joy? She was sweeter and cuter than a doll, and she had not known a livelier and happier person ever since she'd taken in this little girl at the train station.

How she had mourned when she had seen a young man aged by the war appear at the doorstep, that grim SOLDIER officer entrusted with the solemn duty of breaking the sad news that her husband had died on the day the war ended. But that girl had given her a reason to keep on living, and she had almost literally lit up her life. She was so happy and so proud to see that sprightly, willowy child grow up to become a refined and enchanting young woman. And still the girl had not lost those endearing mannerisms, the fascination with life that made her so childlike. She had been so sad when her adopted daughter was stricken with wanderlust, leaving the nest, going out with her friends into the great wide world beyond, as she would be left alone again. Now that she was gone for good, she had been thrown back onto that same island, left to mourn the loss of that tinkling laughter, that musical voice, that heartening smile. True, she liked Marlene, as she was obedient, lively and a bit playful, just like any little girl her age. But she knew now that no matter how many daughters she took in, none could fill the vacuum in her life, replace the little angel she'd known and loved, for Aeris was unique in her own little way.

Elmyra brushed away the tears that were coming to her again, determined to forget about it for just a minute. She still had the household chores to do. She pressed her spectacles back up onto her nose, trying to keep on walking in the dark blur of the early morning.

She managed to find her way to Marlene's room. Barret's daughter had woken up late today, and she had gone off to school in a hurry. She sighed, expecting to see the whole room in a mess, the sheets draped carelessly over the bed, piles of clothes lying everywhere, the girl's textbooks waiting patiently on the floor to trip her up.

But the room was spick and span, and such good order that a guest could just drop in and feel at home straight away. The bed was already made, the coverlet was neatly drawn over the blankets, and the pillow had been well fluffed. The pillowcase and bedsheet were fresh and crisp, newly changed. The floor was clean and free of dust, even though she hadn't swept it for a few days. Marlene's books lay in one orderly pile on her study table, which was also now spotless. The girl's home clothes were nowhere in sight, and her favourite toy, a plush cactuar, was propped up on the chair beside the table. This was so strange. Marlene had always cleaned up her own room regularly, but she was never able to bring such order to it. Perhaps the girl had tidied up the place last night. At least that was one less task for her to do… but that gave her more time to think about other things…

It was then that a familiar fragrance caught her attention, causing her vision to blur. Even after her daughter's death, the lovely smell had lingered throughout her old house, and even here, the wind brought it in once in a while. But now, it was stronger and more persistent, as if… she was standing in the presence of the girl's shade, as the blond man had claimed to have seen once when he had visited the church. She saw one small bottle on Marlene's bedside table, and it was filled with… flowers. There was another on the desk, and one more sitting on the windowseat. This was so peculiar. No one else had ever done that except…

She closed the door. There was no use dwelling on the past. Aeris was gone, no matter how much she wished it was not so. She was deluding herself. But still the wonderful smells of rosemary, sage and thyme filled the air, reminding her of the loveliness she had lost a long time ago. She sniffed. When she had forbidden her tears to flow down her cheeks, they had defied her and now they were slowly dripping from her nose, demanding to be heard and felt.

Slowly she shuffled down the stairs, trying to walk through the haze that was blinding her. The remnants of Marlene's breakfast had not been cleared yet, she told herself. The dishes had not been washed. The laundry was still in the basket. And she hadn't eaten yet.

But the kitchen table was clean and spotless. The cereal bowl and the glass the little girl had used were hanging from the hooks over the sink, not a drop of water falling from them. The large wicker bin had been half empty ever since Aeris had left her, but now there was nothing in it at all. She looked out of the window, and saw her clothes hanging out to dry on the rack, all turned inside out and properly spaced out. The sun was making its way upwards at last, and the rays of light were brightening up the place a little, and everything she saw was given a faint orange golden tint, the dust and the mist dancing slowly in mid – air. It was still so early in the morning, but her dear daughter had always gotten up before her, making sure that she had nothing to do in the morning. And still she smelled the floral fragrance. A nice blue vase was placed in the centre of the dining table, and several large orange blossoms were drooping from its delicate fluted lips. But now… she smelt something different mixing in the air… it was nutritious and satisfying. She saw a small plate on the table, a spoon placed next to it. Two golden brown slices of bread lay on it, a generous helping of marmalade heaped onto them. In a small holder was an egg, the tip of its shell removed, and the white goodness within was soft and liquid. A large mug of piping hot black coffee completed the picture. Her breakfast was ready, but no one had ever cooked for her, not since…

She closed her eyes, shaking her head, pinching herself with as much force as those old aching limbs could muster, and the mist and the tears were gone. But everything was still there. The dishes were still hanging to dry, the clothes were still waiting for the sun to shine over them, and her breakfast was still on the table. The smell of flowers and cooked food still filled her senses. This didn't seem real at all. She couldn't make sense of all this.

Her daughter…?

She turned as she heard a sound coming from above. She was not alone. Was it an intruder? Someone was walking down the stairs, but she didn't feel worried at all, for the soft but confident steps were all too familiar to her, for she'd heard it for over sixteen years…

Coming down the stairs… was her long – lost daughter. Her little angel in pink.

"Aeris… my daughter…"

"MOM!"

Elmyra fell backwards, dizzy at the sight of the apparition running towards her, but she did not hit the ground as she felt those warm and delicate hands catch her, helping her to her feet. The ground still swayed slightly beneath her as she was settled down at the dining table, right in front of her breakfast.

"My sweet child… my pretty angel… I must be in heaven now…"

"Oh no, no, no, Mom, I'm here. Really! I'm right in front of you, see?" The Cetra girl appeared before her. She came closer, tilting her head to the side, looking straight at her the way she always did. Those huge sparkling eyes, that large smile that always lit up her face… She was perfect to the last detail.

"Aeris… I can't believe this… but… thank you for coming back…" The vision of her daughter disappeared, clouded over completely by her tears, but she felt something soft and smooth dabbing her eyes, and when she could see again, the girl was still looking at her.

Elmyra pulled the girl forward, wrapping her arms around those small shoulders, smelling the fragrance of the flower girl's neatly braided hair, taking in her warmth and her beautiful, silky touch. The girl tittered with joy, and soon she found herself laughing for the first time since the Turks had knocked on the door, demanding that Aeris leave with them in exchange for her little friend. That was the last time she had seen her daughter, and she had never smiled since that day…

"You were so sad, Mom… I couldn't bear to leave you alone like that… and I still have much to do. People to help."

Aeris firmly placed her on the chair, pushing the plate full of toast in front of her.

"Come on, Mom, don't you like my cooking? Let me take care of you, all right?"

Since that day, Elmyra had eaten only to live, only because it gave her the strength to carry on living those dreary days without her daughter's smile. But now, every bite she took was new and delicious, filling and satisfying. The salt had come back into her life. It was but a short while before she had finished her breakfast, and before she knew it, Aeris had already whisked the crockery away, washing the dishes quickly and soundlessly.

Elmyra rested at a small table in the hall, watching the house tidy itself up as her adopted daughter flitted in and out of sight, banishing the dust from every corner, opening the windows, drawing the curtains, brightening up the house. More pots and bottles and jars appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and soon the flowers were in full bloom in her house again. Even though Kalm was grey and blue and sombre, the house was now bright and beige and sunny. It seemed so amazing, how much one single person could change everything so much, make her life become so much more beautiful. She just sat stupefied, still not able to believe that Aeris had returned.

She heard a short sharp rapping. Who could it be so early in the morning? Elmyra hobbled towards the door, turning the handle slowly with an old arthritic hand.

She stepped backwards, mouth open in a horrified shriek.

It was that same SOLDIER officer from so long ago. He had been the bringer of bad tidings, notifying her of her husband's death. He had wished an even worse fate upon her, being the cause of her daughter's death. Now that Aeris was back, he had returned to take her away again.

"Aeris! It's him! Run, fast!" The dame scuttled away towards the kitchen, shivering with horror.

The Ancient quickly put down the flower vase she was holding, stepping towards the door, opening it wider to let Sephiroth enter.

"Don't worry, Mom, Sephiroth won't hurt us, he's travelling with me now," she assured her foster mother.

Elmyra emerged, grasping a chef's knife in her hand. "You! You've brought nothing but death and suffering upon us! Go on! Get out of here!"

"No!" Aeris screamed, but the old lady hurled the cleaver at the large warrior. There was a flash of steel as the blade hurtled in the air, spinning in a fast and ferocious arc. Sephiroth did not bat an eye, but calmly stretched out his hand, catching the deadly object by the handle as deftly as if it had been a child's ball. He released it, letting it clatter loudly on the parquet floor.

"Thank you… Gainsborough." He stalked away, his silver hair glinting fiercely like fire.

"Mom! You needn't have done that! There's nothing wrong with him! Sephiroth, please wait! Wait! Wait! Wait!" She ran to the door, but her mother was quicker, and she felt herself restrained by two old but strong arms.

"Please don't leave me, Aeris… don't run away like that again…" Elmyra's grip suddenly weakened, and she slumped onto the chair she had been sitting on previously, covering her face, weeping softly. Again she felt her daughter dry her eyes, and her hands were gently held by the reassuring warm touch.

"It's okay, Mom… everything's fine now, I'm here…" Elmyra could not help but feel gladdened by those simple words. She could never get accustomed to those rich melodious tones. The girl's voice never lost their wondrous qualities, soothing every tense muscle, calming her fevered spirit.

She embraced Aeris again, desperately hoping that she wouldn't go away again.

"Aeris… I'm sorry. I don't want to lose you again… you don't know how sad I was when he told me you were dead… I felt so helpless… I was your mother, yet I couldn't do anything to protect you… I just don't want any more trouble to come to you. I don't know what I'll do if anything happens to you… Please, Aeris… please stay."

The girl just kept smiling at her. It seemed that all the world's worries could never dampen the trust and confidence she always kept in life. Elmyra secretly thanked the unfortunate lady who had given this bundle of joy to her. Aeris could comfort a person by her mere presence. Now that she was here, it was as if a new sun had taken up residence in this dreary place.

The girl winked at her. "I know how you feel, Mom… don't you dare shed a tear for me, for I'll be safe. I'll be out for just a while, I'm going to bring Sephiroth back. He may be a bit cold, but I'm sure he's a good guy, and I want him to be our friend. Just relax, Mom. I'll be back with you very soon, and that's a promise I intend to keep." She slowly let go of the old dame, waving to her mother before slipping on her boots and stepping out of the house.

Elmyra sighed, and she could not guard against another bout of tears as all of her old fears struck her again many times more intensely, and this time the flower lady was not around to give her succor. Aeris was always getting herself into trouble trying to help other people. She was very, very nice… too nice for her own good perhaps.

*****

Sephiroth slowly walked down the quiet streets of Kalm, hands in his pockets, not caring about the narrow – eyed looks the villagers shot at him. He knew that he was an outsider, that he was not welcome in this little town. Gainsborough had instructed him to step into her house, and he had grudgingly complied, entering the den of the lion to be greeted by a mad woman with a knife. What was that girl trying to do? Get him killed? He really didn't want to put up with all this nonsense, but orders were orders, and like it or not, he had no choice to obey.

On and on he went, not having a destination in mind, just hoping to get away from those accusing eyes which followed him wherever he went. He just wanted to be alone, to find a place far from humanity, where his inner demons could not haunt him. But he would be denied even that small luxury with that Gainsborough clinging forever onto his coat – tails. She would be out very soon, and he wanted to find a place to hide for a while.

It was then that he felt someone tap his shoulder none too lightly. He turned, and found himself staring face to face with a man with a somewhat radical hairstyle, with short blond tufts that stuck up in every possible direction. Those royal blue eyes were constricted, and he could see the blood vessels becoming more and more prominent in the whites of those eyes, which were glowing harshly with green fire. The rough, but charming features of this man were at this moment hardened and locked into what could only be called an expression of pure fury, and his thin lips were drawn back, exposing his gritted white teeth.

"We meet again, Strife," the silver – haired swordsman identified the vision of vengeance before him. The past always seemed to be lurking around every corner, waiting to pop out behind him to deny him even a second's solace.

"It's you… Sephiroth… I thought I had banished you into the darkness… you murderer… you killed her…" The large fists clenched and relaxed involuntarily, and he could see veins struggling to make themselves known on those muscular arms.

"So… you wish to seek revenge for your woman again, I suppose?"

"Her name, Sephiroth… was Aeris. My mother, Tifa's father, the people of my town… you killed all of them. I don't know how or why you've returned, but if I have to send you back to hell a second time… I will gladly do so." Strife's hand reached over his shoulder, tightly fingering the hilt of the large sword that lay strapped behind his back.

Sephiroth smirked. A golden opportunity had fallen into his hands. One of the monsters that had been haunting him had finally manifested itself. But now he could fight back, deal with this one in the way he knew best. Strife was but another demon waiting to be exorcised. And perhaps when all of them were gone… he would know peace at last…

"Very well. You shall see that I will awaken when this is over." He cast a quick glance at his surroundings, and he found those accusing eyes glaring at him again, and he knew that he could not commit that same mistake again. "Come, let us settle this outside," he intoned the classic phrase that was always a prelude to a duel.

Cloud watched the tall warrior turn and head towards the entrance of the town. For a second his anger was forgotten, and he scratched his head in puzzlement. Sephiroth had never shown any regard for human life, not after he had gone mad at the Nibel Reactor. Now he was trying to minimise the potential for collateral damage. He sounded more calm and collected, and seemed almost happy to accept his challenge. And what was he talking about anyway? But he could ponder over his adversary's odd behaviour later… when he'd defeated that villain.

They came to a small, dusty clearing a short distance from the village, the edges of this circular plain ringed by jagged stones the height of a man. The ground was grey and rocky, and several dead trees stood at the sides, the life long gone from it thanks to the Mako reactors. While the sun had shone brightly only minutes before, now several clouds were slowly creeping forward to muffle the light, turning everything as dark and grey as the barren lands below them, and the long stones began to cast their shadows upon the two knights about to begin their contest. The stage was set.

Cloud unsheathed his sword. His trusty weapon, the Buster Sword, had broken in two at the moment of his lover's death, the faithful steel sharing its master's grief. Now he wielded the Ultima Weapon, a shimmering blade made of a translucent silvery metal, and the fuller was made of two concentric wedges of a rigid purple and pink material. The sword had not been forged by human hands, but had been wielded by a monster bearing the same name, awakened by the Planet when Meteor had been summoned. Cloud raised his blade, placing one foot forward, gripping the handle with both hands, ready to strike.

Sephiroth had not been carrying the Masamune when Strife had confronted him, but now he found that his ever loyal no – dachi had appeared in his hand, arriving to assist him in battle. The black lacquered scabbard slipped free of the blade almost of its own volition, vanishing once the long blade had been fully drawn. He settled into his fighting stance, both legs apart, the tip of his weapon pointing downwards at the ready, and he stretched out his arm, making a cupping gesture with his free hand, signaling to his opponent that he was ready and eager to commence combat.

"When you left me at Nibelheim, you were but the learner… now let us see whether you have become the master… or if you are still the puppet."

Cloud quickly obliged, seizing the advantage, rushing forward to land the first decisive blow, bringing all his strength and the momentum of his fierce charge to bear. The Ultima Weapon came fiercely down, but with a flicker of movement, the iridescent blade was met by the tempered steel of the Masamune amidst a shower of hot white sparks. The knight in black stood still, not moving half an inch despite the force of the younger man's attack, and he stepped forward, quickly executing a flurry of light and swift blows that sent the blond warrior on the defensive. Cloud eventually managed to beat back Sephiroth's counterattack, and he twisted his weapon to the side and launched himself forward, his broadsword swinging back to the front to land a hard chop to his opponent's torso. But that was quickly parried too, and the ex – villain gave no ground.

This was a classic clash of cultures and generations, with Cloud using the "strong" style of swordsmanship favoured by many men his age. His techniques relied heavily on his abilities as a spry and strong young man, and he put every bit of force and fury into each slow but sure strike to inflict a crippling blow that the enemy could not possibly withstand. Sephiroth, having learned from the oldest and best Wutaian masters and martial arts exponents, preferred to be fast and calculating with his swordplay, quietly and quickly countering all of his adversary's moves, and when Strife was recovering from every hard swing at him, he would exploit the opening to attack the puppet without hesitation. But in the end what counted was experience and perseverance, and soon the difference in class showed. The young swordsman found himself charging against a wall he could not break down.

Cloud gritted his teeth. Now that force had failed, it was time for finer work. He somersaulted, flipping backwards, using his huge sword as a vaulting pole to put some extra distance between him and the eight – foot blade. No sooner had he landed when he sprung upwards again, both feet in the air, raising his blade over his head, bringing it down as hard as he could at the older warrior. But still Sephiroth was faster than him, and as the Ultima Weapon met the Masamune in a fiery embrace again, the long and thin blade twisted downwards. Sephiroth rolled aside as the larger sword plunged into the barren soil, and with a light flick of the Masamune, he brought the tip of the longsword upwards, opening up a long gash along Cloud's unprotected thigh even as the young SOLDIER struggled to pull his blade out.

It had been but a superficial flesh wound, but Cloud felt as if his thigh had been rent apart by the no - dachi. His injury pained him like a thousand demons, the agony rippling outwards to paralyse his entire leg and part of his hip. He stumbled uncertainly, and all he could feel was the pain… and the redness that was welling up in him with every passing second, overtaking his senses, drowning out the world, until he was ready to carry out the impossible…

The red light flared outwards in an expanding circle around him, and he dashed up to the silver – haired man, the point of the Ultima Weapon at eye level. With one fluid motion the white and pink blade swept from right to left, down and up again in a large fiery crescent, and he finished the move by stepping from side to side, slashing diagonally downwards and slicing upwards in the opposite direction. When his vision was unfogged at last, he was shocked and terrified to see that his enemy was still alive and unhurt, the Masamune in the guard position. The pain assaulted him again with renewed vigour, almost making him bend double.

Now that Strife had his fun, it was now time for Sephiroth to play the same game. He let the weapon point to the ground at a slight angle, and many dazzling specks began to gather on the tip of the longsword, forming a small incandescent orb. When the energy sphere had finished charging up, he jumped several feet into the air and he spun in a complete circle, the Masamune a silver flash sweeping in every direction at once, dispersing all the gathered energy particles in a single white wave. Cloud barely managed to duck before the killing stream sliced the air where his head had been a split second ago. The expanding ring of deadly force reached the edges of the arena, and all the dead trees and rocks in the area were cut neatly in two by the magic blast.

"It seems that you will have to do better if you wish to keep me forever in this nightmare."

"And it seems that you're still as crazy as ever!"

He lunged at Sephiroth again, shifting his weight onto his uninjured leg. The Ultima Weapon struck harder and faster, its wielder maddened by the agony of his injury. The hot – blooded blade was rebuffed yet again by the cold calm steel of the Masamune, and there was a horrible shrieking sound and the still air around them lit up with the intensity of a welder's lamp as the black – cloaked man stepped backwards, the abnormally long sword sliding slowly down the edge of Cloud's blade, the tip coming closer and closer to the sandy – haired man's chest. Cloud knew that he had to break off his attack now, for his opponent was using his superior range to great advantage.

With all his might he twisted the translucent sword upwards, breaking the lock, turning aside the deadly weapon. Even as the longsword came straight at him, he catapulted himself forwards and upwards, throwing himself out of danger, hoping to land behind the SOLDIER general to perform a quick counterstrike before the older man could react to this sudden movement.

But Sephiroth had predicted this move, and he did not turn around, but he reversed his sword, thrusting it horizontally behind his shoulder, the blade facing away from him. And even as Cloud hit the ground he felt his shoulder jolted out of its socket as the Masamune sank into his deltoid muscles. A moan of agony escaped his lips as he fell onto his knees, turning to see that the man had landed a critical hit without so much as looking at him.

Sephiroth faced him now, the fallen swordsman's eyes glinting, his trademark smirk marring his features. He raised the Masamune aloft and shouted a word of power. There was a flash like lightning, and a single brilliant white bolt shot heavenwards from the blade. Not a second later, Cloud saw a thin and blinding stream of blue energy hurtle from the clouds, coming right for him! Groaning with the pain of moving his injured body, he barely managed to roll aside in time before the magical projectile struck the ground, blasting a large chunk out of the parched earth, peppering him with secondary missiles made of rock fragments. Another lethal blue dart shot towards him, and again he managed to get out of the way as a small crater started yawning open a few metres away. His movements were becoming sluggish, and he was struggling to keep himself from passing out, for he could feel nothing save the torment of his grievous wounds. A third energy lance struck the soil in front of him, shaking him off his feet, making him fall down heavily. And even as he tried to get up again, a fourth bolt from the blue made contact right beside him, and before he knew it he was being propelled several feet through the air, and he hit the ground face – down with a mind – numbing crunch that broke several of his bones.

His consciousness was grey and diminishing, and the edges of his vision were already hazy and indistinct. All he knew was that Sephiroth was striding slowly towards him, and he could hear the villain's cold and mocking laugh burst his ears. It was evident that the one – winged angel was closing in to deliver the coup de grace, the final stroke that would avenge his downfall at the Mako reactor, his defeat at the Northern Crater. The Ultima Weapon lay several feet away, too far away for him to reach. At any rate, Cloud had no more strength to lift his weapon, let alone evade the deathblow that he knew was coming.

"No… it can't end like this…"

Sephiroth guffawed again, holding the Masamune now with both hands. Now he was his own master again, and now he would purge the grim reminders of his sins that plagued his every waking moment and every dreaming minute. Now he would know again the glory and beauty of decisive victory.

"Do not weep, Strife… Your death will send me to the light!"

With consummate ease he sailed several feet into the air, setting the blade where it would pierce the puppet's frail back and travel all the way into Strife's foul heart. It had to be perfect. He closed his eyes, and plunged downwards with every single ounce of fury and pain and pride and sadness his tortured soul could draw together to perform the master stroke. He would win this time.

The Masamune passed through his victim's soft flesh as easily if it had just torn through paper, the long blade sinking down and down and right up to the guard. A high – pitched scream rewarded his heroic efforts… but wait…

That was not Strife crying out loudly in death, acting out the final throes of his short and bitter life. That voice… it was clear and light and lilting… a girl's voice.

He opened his eyes, and his face paled and his mouth dropped down in extreme horror. No! It couldn't be! It was impossible! He was on the threshold of victory, yet the nightmares had defeated him once more…

Aeris lay dying upon his blade… again.

He felt two small hands travel up the handle of the weapon, locking onto his hands with a grip as hard as a vice. Those eyes were looking at him again, the large smooth surfaces cracked and watery with pain, yet desperate and pleading for mercy.

"Sephiroth… please… spare him…" Her soft warbling voice struck him again, sounding like the string of an angel's harp that had just snapped.

What? Gainsborough was asking him to do what? Give himself up to his nightmares again? Leave his enemy undefeated and ready to pounce on him another day? Now she was asking him to preserve his enemy's life… at the cost of her own! What was going on now? She was asking for the impossible with her dying wish! How could she ask him to do this?

"Never! Strife is one of them! He is making me suffer!"

He tried to pull those slender fingers away from him, but they tightened, gripping him as tenaciously as the jaw's of a hunter's snare. Still those agonising eyes resolutely held their gaze, her spirit unwilling to let him go. She was holding death itself at bay just to make him die with her!

"Promise… me!"

In this moment of crisis, his mind crystallised and he found himself thinking rationally for once. He could not let her die. If the young Cetra were to perish, his guardian angel would be gone, and all his hopes for redemption would be over. He would only commit more sins, and he would go back to hell, and into the cold void of ultimate unending suffering. Even if he were to kill Strife, even though he wanted so badly to have his revenge and quieten the monsters within him, yet… wouldn't he be bloodying his hands again by taking another life? What about his mother, or Uncle Gast, or Auntie Ifalna? What would they say if he failed to protect her? Wouldn't they be so bitterly disappointed to see their hopes disappear like that? Hadn't he made a promise to keep their daughter safe? For their sake, and his own, he had to bite the bullet yet again. It was so ironic, that he now he had to help his worst enemy in order to facilitate his personal survival. He had no choice… but to save her, no matter what happened.

"All right, if it means so much to you, you have my word!"

The girl smiled, and her eyes closed slowly as if she was simply falling asleep. Those smooth fingers loosened their hold, and as they drew away from him, he noticed several deep impressions on his hands. As she passed out, Gainsborough slid silently off the blade, landing with a dull thump on the sodden ground. Sephiroth could only stand stock still in silence as he looked at the Masamune. He had stabbed the girl through and through with his legendary weapon, yet his blade was still clean and polished and perfectly spotless. The Masamune had shed no blood.

His shock at this revelation was interrupted as a warm liquid splattered all over his face. Her wound had opened up, and a huge scarlet river was spurting out with every beat of her heart like a flood from a ruptured dam, soaking every part of her pink dress, deepening the colour of her jacket further. Her face was now wan and pale as life itself began to drain away from it. When she had fallen unconscious, she had lost all voluntary control, and now the blood was leaking out of her mouth in a bright red froth, held in check for too long, trickling freely down her cheeks from her nose. The blood was here, there, and everywhere now. She was bleeding to death now.

He pressed both his hands against the massive injury, hoping to stem the crimson tide that was still breaking through despite his best efforts, literally and metaphorically staining his hands like the murderer he was. He looked around, hoping to find someone or something that could help him staunch the bleeding. He did not equip himself with materia, and he did not carry any healing potions on his person, confident that he would defeat Strife without any trouble. He had only one consolation, and that was his blond adversary also lay senseless not far away, his injuries, coupled with the shock of seeing his lover a second time upon the Masamune too much for him to withstand. At least the puppet would not be trying to stab him in the back as he was trying to save Gainsborough. And even as his mind worked feverishly, the warm fluid kept pouring out through his wet, shiny palms, taunting his inability to save the girl's life, bubbling a laugh at his fate that was about to be sealed.

The Ancient was still wearing her armlets, and they were loaded with materia. Sephiroth thanked the Planet for the small blessing, and he slowly took one bloody hand off the wound. As he placed his dripping fingers onto one small green orb set into the metal bracelet, he noticed that his hands were trembling slightly. Cold sweat was dripping down his brow. His mouth was dry. The great General Sephiroth was actually afraid! He had performed so many death – defying acts in the past that had made him the envy of generations of SOLDIERs. He had once charged across no – man's land, evading the deadly spray of automatic fire to take out the gunners lurking in the enemy trenches, paving the way for his comrades to make the big push and win the day. He had once ventured into a fortress deep within enemy territory, challenging and slaying a hostile warlord in a duel, and for five hours after that he had held off a thousand of Wutai's finest ninjas and mounted soldiers before he reached safety. He had done all that without a second thought, and he had never feared even for a minute, and the thought of failure or defeat or death had never crossed his mind, for he was supremely confident of his own abilities… and he was merely proving his worth to the world. He wanted people to like and respect him.

Now… why was he so jittery about something as simple as saving a life? Yes, it was a yet another all – or – nothing situation, but he'd experienced that before, and it hadn't bothered him one bit. But then he had helped those people because he had been assigned to protect them, he was doing it because it was part of his professional duties. Now, the stakes were so much more higher. He was still fighting a war. He had yet to score a victory over Gainsborough, and he wouldn't let her take the coward's way out, run away from him like that. At the same time, for the first time perhaps, he was fighting for the people he held dear to himself, no longer for Shinra or Midgar or Jenova…or was it for something else, something deeper this time?

At last the green light surrounded him, and he was rewarded with an expanding circle of golden magical dust, followed by a large shower of bright yellowish – white specks that brought with it potent healing power. He was bathed in pure sunlight that focused the force of recovery and life itself upon his comatose target. When the heartening light faded at last, he looked down at the girl, and was dismayed to see that the bleeding had only subsided a little, and her life was still draining away onto the cracked and hardened earth which drank it greedily. That had been a Fullcure spell, one of the strongest healing spells, and by now Gainsborough should be lying here hale and hearty, her wound healed completely, the danger past. But the Masamune was an enchanted blade, and the injuries it inflicted were highly resistant to all forms of restorative items and materia. The slightest scratch would hurt as much as a terrible laceration, and a major injury would always prove fatal. But still, he would not give up no matter how terrible the odds were. He had a reputation to live up to.

His black – cloaked heart began to pound its way through his sternum as he felt the girl's wrist to find that her heart had stopped beating. Her torn chest was stiff and still – she had stopped breathing. He struggled to keep fright and despair away, placing his shaking hand onto the next materia orb in the girl's wristguard, and it took a massive effort of will to concentrate his flustered thoughts into the spell he absolutely, positively had to cast now. The green Mako aura flared again, and a pillar of fiery red light engulfed them, bathing him with warm radiance. More of the gold energy orbs swirled around the two of them, and he saw, of all creatures, a winged angel, a spirit of a long – dead Ancient hovering above him, casting her magic on the dying girl. The Cetra ghost smiled at him, and swirled upwards into nothingness as the spell faded.

The Life 2 spell should have revived the girl, completely healing all her injuries like the Fullcure spell, but still the blood kept flowing out and out. But the materia had served its purpose; he could feel a pulse now, weak but certain, and her chest was moving ever so slowly, ever so shallowly. Surely there was something else he could do to help her!

His hand brushed against something small and hard in the girl's dress pocket. Instinctively he reached inside, yanking it out. It was a small glass phial, the writing on the label smudged and blotted out by the blood, but he instantly knew from the shape and colour of the little bottle what medicaments it contained. It was a Megalixir, the rarest and best healing item ever known to man or Ancient. He gulped hard. If this could not save her, nothing would. He turned Gainsborough's head to the side, parting her lips, letting the blood drain out. Yanking the cork off the phial, he emptied the precious silver liquid into her mouth, forcing her to swallow it, hoping against hope that the potion would work. The girl was instantly covered with small, rainbow – coloured stars that healed every part of her body, the magic in the enchanted fluid converting itself to flesh and blood, racing to repair what damage it could. He looked over the young gardener, and at last he sighed with unsuppressed relief. The girl was not completely healed, even by the Megalixir, but the bleeding had now slowed down to a trickle, and a little colour had returned to her face. He got up, wiping his hands on his tunic, which was equally slick and soaked to the skin, and pulled off his cloak, wrapping it around her chest.

Sephiroth picked up the flower girl, placing her in his arms, and set off as quickly as a chocobo towards the town. He prayed that he could reach a doctor in time, for her life was sitting at the very edge now. All he knew was she could not die. His life was in her fragile hands, and if she fell off this precipice, he would die together with her. He didn't want the nightmares to haunt him any more. He was being crushed by the weight of his crimes, and if she died everything would fall right back on top of him and smash him back into damnation. He didn't want her to die. He wanted her to see him shake his fist in her face, show her that he was every bit as strong – willed and determined as her. She would not die. He would not allow her to die.

A/N: I told you this would end on a cliffhanger!

My alternative title for this chapter is: Showdown of Fate v2.0. I was inspired by the opening FMV of FFVIII, where Squall and Seifer fight each other. Even though I've not played KH, or the Final Mix for that matter, I've read the translations, and I was wondering what it would become if I were to make Sephiroth speak Cloud's lines… whether that would be sufficiently ennobling to make the reader sympathise more with him. Makes him appear like the good guy, yep? Sephy, of course, proves once and for all who's the boss (well, unfortunately, this is an Aeriseph fic, so I guess I have to do him some justice). Oh, and I hope you like the modified Darth Vader quote.

As you can see, I took liberties with Sephiroth's limit breaks. (You see how skilled he is - these aren't even limits - he didn't have the "energy explosion" or whatever you call it that comes before a limit move.) Can you recognise some of them? I had him perform Fire Cross and Fated Circle, as well as a modified version of Freya's Trance Jump command, with the glowing spears flying down from above. This doesn't really resemble an ancient Medieval duel - I kind of like those cool swordfighting scenes from the Hongkong dramas. Unfortunately, I could not have Sephiroth and Cloud chasing each other in the air, maybe next time perhaps. There are some scenes in the game that Sephiroth actually flies around, though…

I would very much appreciate it if someone could describe to me (in as much detail as possible) what Sephiroth's infamous Sin Harvest move is like… maybe I'll write that into a future chapter some day.

What happened to Cloud's Buster Sword in KH? This is merely what I would have thought. You remember how the Horn of Gondor broke when Boromir died at the end of the Fellowship of the Ring? I merely twisted this to suit the current context. Interestingly enough, the Buster Sword was originally owned by Zack, who also loved Aeris. When Cloud's heart broke upon the girl's death, the sword broke as well, and now, even as he has a new lover, he has obtained a new weapon. In a computer game, there has to be some suspension of reality… all the wrappings on the Buster Sword would have torn away the moment he hit Sora's Keyblade! Or maybe the bandages are made of mythril or something, I really don't know.

Note that this chapter and the previous one were originally meant to be together, but it got too long and I had to split it up or I would have everyone falling asleep over their keyboards=). I love tearful reunion scenes.

Of course, here are my replies to those who have faithfully kept reviewing this story:

To the Constructicons:

So… Duke Nukem's a copycat, eh? Jack and shit him, man. No doubt you guys could probably give him a place of honour - as part of the superstructure of the latest Decepticon superweapon! Bye bye baby!

To Starfall4790:

Well… I wish I could share your enthusiasm! This chapter is of minor importance to plot development (actually, the story itself is merely a platform for the romance to develop on), but I hope I've provided a little more insight into the mind of Sephiroth the Bizzaro.

To EnchantedMiko:

Heh heh… here you have seen the Sephiroth / Cloud conflict up close and personal! As for Cloud and Aeris… wait a while more… this was a love that could never be.

To DClick:

I hope this battle scene is more kickass! Sephiroth is a bit confused, isn't he? It's slightly impossible to keep up the "I don't care about you, I don't need your help" attitude all the time, as Squall realised to his dismay. Speaking about Squall, "Whatever" is one of his most famous lines, because he says this almost all the time until Disc 3.

Ah… I wish Cloud and Aerith would make an appearance in KH2… Well, if not Cloud, then at least Aerith… won't it be nice if she's a playable character, even for a little while like Tarzan or Peter Pan… but gets down on my knees oh Planet, dear, dear, Planet, don't let her die! It will break my heart (and the hearts of a LOT of Aeris fanboys) again! (Psst… here's a little secret… I cried when Aeris died… hee hee…) But about Sephy being Riku's dad… don't you find it weird that Sora, Tidus and all the little kids are left alone on Destiny Islands without their parents? Who left them there? Or did they just appear like that?

Oh, and don't let your sis bully you. Come on, surely all 6 of you can merge to form Devastator too!

To Alx91:

Hmmm… So the Masamune is the holy sword… there was one interesting site on Cloud I saw… it was discussing the role of the Masamune and the Murasame in the game… Cloud can use the Murasame, while the Masamune is exclusively Sephy's weapon… Masamune is a holy sword, yet Sephy uses it to commit great evil… while Cloud uses it to defeat all the violent monsters that come near him… the author of the article argued that the distinctions between good and evil are blurred - here you see a holy sword being used by a demon, while the good guy redeems the Murasame by using it as a weapon for justice. What really matters in the end is what cause you choose to side.

I shall digress here a moment… but at the time in Disc 1 when I entered the Forgotten Capital… I was carrying the Murasame, which (if I'm not wrong) is the most powerful weapon Cloud can carry (apart from the Nail Bat) in Disc 1. The Murasame attracts evil, and in this context, it attracts the ultimate evil - he, the wielder of the cursed sword, sees his lover die in front of him, in his arms, killed by Sephiroth. Yet you can say that the Masamune was living up to its name as a holy blade, because by killing Aeris, it facilitated the saving of the world at the very end (I doubt that she could have used the Lifestream unless she was dead, as I have mentioned in the previous chapter). In a sense, it was forced by its wielder to do violence, yet its power ironically helped to bring the evil to an end. Note that the Masamune, as a sacred sword, did not draw blood when it killed Aeris (either that or Squaresoft didn't want a Mature rating for the game).

To Homunculus:

You know, a Cid/Aeris relationship seems so challenging and so unconventional that I feel tempted to do it some day! How about some Barret / Aeris? For KH, why not consider Sora / Aerith? If Yuffie and Squall (or Yuffie and Vincent, for that matter) can get together despite the age gap, why not our Keyblade hero and the flower girl? I really hope you can look forward to happier days, I think I've got writer's block! Wish me luck!

To Phantom Kensai:

You're not alone here. I also like Cleris stuff, but why the heck I started writing on Sephy I myself can't remember, but it seems to be going along quite all right. Oh well, Rufus survived Diamond Weapon, but just barely… I would say by the skin of his teeth, but he had no skin, and no teeth left for that matter. That cost him an arm and a leg, and maybe even more…

Strange… I haven't received word from anyone yet that Sephiroth's stammering is OOC… I take it to be a welcoming sign…

Yep, it's true, "They will know fear" comes from Tiberian Sun, spoken by the Cyborg Commando, the most powerful NOD unit. The Apocalypse tank was cool, but I think the Devastator from Emperor was far better. At least it had a self - destruct mode. Sun wasn't too bad, but it was very dark, and I got tired of the endless brown and white tilesets they put up every mission.

To Starling94:

Whoa… is your story going to be an Aeriseph too? Thank you so much for recognising me, I feel a bit flattered that someone actually adopted my silly ideas and work practices! Hope to hear from you soon, I'm dying to see what happens to Cloudy - Woudy, Aerie - Faerie, Squally - Wally, and Rinny - Poo! What happens to Jenova? And what happens to Sephy - kins and Seifer - Waffle? Coolness! Hahahaha!