Of a Pure Heart,a Knight and the OneWinged Angels

by Flipperclaws

After the tumultuous events of Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth is revived, and his new purpose in life is to atone for his many sins. However, he will not be alone – Aeris has returned as well, to become… his guardian angel!

14. Chapter 14: No Rest for the Wicked or th...

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 Schizoprenoid, Don Corneo the Horny, Reno, the Rude gentleman and Elena the Teller of Secrets (any anyone I may have inadvertently missed out, knowingly, willfully or otherwise) 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 - Vincents depressed to the nadir with Tranqulisers, and they shall cause a wet blanket to hang over your house and generally expose you to the… darker side of your nature (You know how angsty Vincent can be from the fanfics here, so I'm taking this concept one step further… a Chibi - Vincent would probably behave in the same fashion).

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.

Yuffie: Hey, isn't that a Tonberry coming up over there? No? It's not? Erm, I could have sworn it was there just now! Oh well, maybe you'll see him again! Hey, I'll help you look for him! Don't worry, it's free! (Skips away, making merry jingling noises. You feel as if a heavy weight has been literally taken off you.)

NO REST FOR THE WICKED… OR THE GOOD

The man walked quickly through the chilling streets of Kalm, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his coat. He had been partying all night, and now he had to return quickly. Many critical decisions were waiting to be taken, and he could not flippantly leave them alone like he had done the last time. Things were different now; he'd be done for if he did not take decisive action. His girlfriend had probably been waiting for him for the whole night, and now she would probably give him the customary dressing down. But then, he was sure he'd find a persuasive enough excuse (even though she'd heard all of them, and then some more) to forestall most, if not all, of the temper tantrums she liked to throw.

It was then that he noticed that he was not alone. It was only half past six, yet someone else was already up and about, and walking slowly towards him. The early morning light was bright enough to chase away the shadows around the lone figure, and he saw that it was a girl in a pink dress and a red jacket.

That girl… he'd seen her before. Though how or why or what in heaven's name she was doing here he really didn't know. He'd heard that she had reappeared, but he simply couldn't believe what they'd told him. And now, he was seeing her with his own eyes. She was carrying a small wicker basket, and amazingly enough… it was full of flowers.

The flowers… it had been quite a little while since he'd last seen a flower, let alone a bunch of them. He had been born and raised in Midgar, and he had been one of the few people to experience life above and below the Plate. Nothing could grow in the slums, as the metal framework had cut off all light to the shabby tenements below. Even in the Upper Plate, whose residents had received all the sunlight they could possibly desire, the seeds stayed dead in the pots, the conditions too harsh for them to germinate. Kalm was a good distance away from the great city, but it was still in close enough proximity to the former capital of the Planet to suffer the effects of Mako depletion. The lands around Midgar had been bled dry by the reactors, turning into a blackened, cracked and sterile wasteland. Even here, the earth was grey, rocky and barren, the soil drained and lifeless. Not a single plant could take root in this place either. But somehow, that girl had managed to persuade green life to sprout in the most unlikely of places.

"Excuse me, sir… would you like a flower?"

His attention was now drawn to the flowers in the basket. The petals were still firm and crisp, and he could see small droplets of dew clinging onto them. Now that she had come closer, he found the fragrance of those blossoms wafting towards him, and the smell was rich and concentrated, yet satisfying and refreshing. It was as if he was standing in a whole field full of them. He tried to tell himself that this was a pretty stupid question, knowing what she'd probably say, but he always relished any sort of interaction with a pretty chick. At any rate, he had to find out more about her.

"And how much are you willing to sell it for?"

"Oh… it's only one gil."

Only one gil. She had to be kidding! The girl was obviously too naïve for her own good. She could make a handsome profit by selling such treasures in this place. He had seen a dry and wilted stalk go for over a hundred gil in Midgar, and in the Upper Plate, the men would show their affection and dedication to their lovers by buying an entire bouquet for them. A flower would serve as the perfect tool to divert his girlfriend's attentions from his late return to the house. But as he looked at that lovely familiar face again… he knew that that many men (including himself, if he had any cash left over after having his beer and cigarettes) would have paid any amount she had demanded for just that one flower. So… it wasn't those flowers that were luring him after all… it was the person who was selling them. At any rate, it was her problem that she was silly enough to sell it at such a ridiculously low price.

"Hmmm… why not?" He pulled out his hand, balancing a small gold coin between his thumb and forefinger. He let it roll back and forth along his palm before flicking it into the girl's basket.

"Thank you very much, sir! This will make you happy!" She selected a white camellia, placing it into his outstretched hand. The young florist smiled and slowly walked down the cobblestone street, looking for new customers, a little song coming to her lips. She did not notice that the man had not moved, but was now staring intently at her, observing her from tip to toe, pondering over the way she walked and talked, listening to the light timbre of her voice, feeling the rhythm of her footsteps. That was something the man would never have done had his girlfriend been with him, as she would get very… passionate whenever he did so much as look at a skirt in the street, knowing his penchant to get a bit… distracted every so often.

*****

Aeris was sitting down on a clean, shaded stretch of pavement, slumped against a wall, her head drooping slightly, her hands dangling loosely at her side. The Ancient's face was colourless and drained, several limp locks of hair falling here and there. Slowly she dabbed her glowing brow with her hanky, and the pink cloth came away heavy, thick and darkened. This was terrible. During her time in Midgar, she had been able to go on from dawn to dusk, travelling the length and breadth of a Sector to sell her flowers. She had only been out for around an hour, but now she felt as if she could not move another inch.

She still couldn't get used to the problems pressing her life down, it seemed. She hadn't lasted ten minutes on her first day out, and she should have taken some comfort in the fact that she had made a little headway at least. Tifa had told her to be strong, but she could only do so much to overcome her own weak body. She could go so far with only one wing, let alone one that had been clipped, one that had the flight feathers torn from it. She would probably have to resign herself to becoming the sad and frail and sickly little damsel who always needed to be rescued by the guys.

Her eyes wearily opened, and she tried to focus her sight on the basket at her side. The little blossoms were still fresh and good and lovely. They hadn't wilted yet, even though she had effectively ended their lives by plucking them from the plants several hours earlier. Now it seemed as if they were trying to speak to her… as if they were giving her encouragement somehow… Fortunately for her, she would recover after resting for a little while, and she'd be able to ply her trade again.

The young Cetra raised herself up slowly, placing a hand on the wall to support herself as her sore legs began to complain bitterly, unwilling to end their hard - earned rest. The wall on which she had leaned back on was now glistening slightly, small drops of moisture slowly coursing down the rough surface brick by brick. She picked up her basket, grabbing it tightly with both hands when it threatened to slip out of her grasp, as it seemed as if her heart had been placed in there as well. Step by step she plodded on, looking out again in the empty early morning streets for someone she could sell her flowers to.

Things seemed so different now from the days when she had walked the streets of Midgar. The air of the city was filled with the synthetic, metallic fragrance of exhaust fumes, the scent of fermenting garbage and the rank and cancerous odours from the Shinra sweatshops. It was forever nighttime in the slums, with the Plate separating the inhabitants from the sky. The streets were always full of strangers, people whom she'd never met before. You never knew what would happen next in the slums. The underside of Midgar, holding such a high concentration of humanity, was a melting pot boiling over with every type of person conceivable, and in such a place where the good, the bad and the ugly were put so close together, strange things were bound to happen every day. Hardly a day passed without a shooting, a Shinra raid or a fight between the local gangs. Many a loafer, a street tough and a bandit had tried to take advantage of her, and she had quickly learnt how to defend herself with a guard stick.

But here, there was no nightlife, no neon signs, no flashy posters. It was clear and bright enough for her to see from one end of the little town to the other. The air was clean and light, and she could smell nothing save the fragrance of her flowers. The streets were empty today. The sun had little warmth or brightness to spare today, and even though it was only autumn, the chill was setting in early this year, slowing down life everywhere, making everyone seek out a warm and cozy place to tide over the coming cold season. Life just went on in this little hamlet day after day. Everyone just got around with his own business. Nothing at all interrupted the tranquility that blanketed this place, not a gunshot or an angry shout. Kalm was so safe that she could walk around even at night without her rod or her armlets. The only materia she carried now was her mother's hair ornament. Absolutely nothing would happen here today, not even the explosion of a Mako reactor, let alone the appearance of a handsome young man to make her day…

Everything that had defined her old home in the great inner city was gone, replaced by a totally new environment, an entirely new experience. She had longed to return to her former life once their quest to save the Planet was over. She knew that Kalm was the ideal place for her to settle down and return to her previous occupation as a flower merchant (despite the apparent lack of customers), but still, she felt that something was missing somehow, something that she'd known once, but now she didn't have. She needed something that would make her life more beautiful.

The silver - haired knave then entered this fair maiden's thoughts. How was he faring now? What was he doing now? Wasn't she supposed to watch over him? How could she help him? Here too was another person who had something missing from his life for a long time. He too was facing a totally new situation, but unlike her, he didn't have friends or family to lend him a hand, and thus it was up to her to be a sister to him (even though he was so much older than her!). It was a pity that she wasn't able to look out for him during those past few weeks, but now she had now excuse. Lucrecia had appointed her as his guardian angel, and she would keep her promise, live up to the lady's expectations even though she had only one wing, a wing that could not fly. Besides, he was such a strange person… and such a good looking guy…

*****

Sephiroth snorted, throwing the Masamune forward, watching the blade sink into the ground without so much as wobbling half an inch. Cut. Thrust. Parry. Leap and slash. Dodge and roll. These were such simple techniques… but what was happening to him? He was performing worse than Strife, let alone a SOLDIER trainee!

He had spent the last few weeks in isolation. Without the girl to order him around, he had practically nothing to do. Every morning he would step out of the town, long before anybody would wake up and sense his presence. He would practice his swordsmanship for hours at end, staying in the arena where he'd nearly killed Strife… and Gainsborough. When he was not training, he would venture further away, testing his skills on the monsters that roamed the black barren lands. The gil he had gained he had used to pay for his food and board. But no matter what he did, no matter where he went… the demons pursued him endlessly. He could not concentrate any more on his moves. The blade felt like lead in his hands, heavy with the thousands of bodies that had fallen upon it. The sword almost fell from his hands, made slippery by the blood of countless good men and women and children and infants. Every time he swung his sword, another person would dissipate from his sight. The rush of air that came with every stroke was a low and moaning death cry that would haunt this living nightmare of his.

He had learned much after his death. His mother and his guardians had told him the truth behind his past, and he had learned far too much from them. Now more memories were coming to him unbidden, things that he'd never known before, things he'd never bothered to think through before. Those memories were never his at all, but he had been allowed to experience everything belonging to those with Jenova cells infused within them, everything that they had ever known or seen or heard or felt.

Ha, ha, ha... Although he doesn't know... Ha, ha, ha... HA, HA, HA...! What will Sephiroth think when he finds out I'm his father? Always looking down on me like that. HA, HA, HA...!

Ha, ha, ha... I offered the woman with my child to Professor Gast's Jenova Project. When Sephiroth was still in the womb, we took the cells of Jenova... HA, HA, HA!

Hojo… was his father. The murderer who had killed Uncle Gast. The monster which had raped Aunt Ifalna and experimented upon her till she died. The thing that had used his mother as a human incubator, and sacrificed his own son, his very own flesh and blood, giving him up to evil, and laughed about it afterwards! It was a shame that the mad scientist was already dead, for this was a fiend lowly enough to deserve a death upon his blade. It was ironic, but of no comfort to him that Vincent, the one person who had truly loved his mother, had been the one to fire the killing shot that had put paid to that cruel man.

So Hojo was responsible for bringing him into this world… not because of love, but the sake of personal "glory"! If he had a right to nonexistence, he would have claimed it without hesitation… he would rather not have been born than have that creature as a father. Hojo had turned him into a demon that had brought pain and sadness to the whole world. That father of his had condemned him from birth to become a tortured soul to be tormented day in and day out by the spectres of his past. By bringing him forth, Hojo had doomed him to a life of eternal servitude as a wormy slave, bound to wait upon that brainless kid hand and foot.

The ground suddenly trembled, and a terrible roar tore at his ears. The memories fled from his sight, and now he saw a large green dragon in front of him, its burning red eyes boring into his. Its fangs were drawn and large drops of saliva pattered audibly on the ground. The creature's sail - like wings were beating quickly, sending clouds of dust his way. Its claws were already pointed towards him, and tendrils of smoke began snaking out of its nostrils.

Dragons were never seen here, as they roosted only in the Nibel Mountains, yet winter was drawing close, and no doubt the monster was migrating to a warmer part of the Planet. Apparently it had come to the conclusion that Sephiroth would make a tasty meal to be enjoyed on the long journey southwards.

The general lifted the no - dachi, considering the monstrosity before him. An Ice 3 spell would kill the wyrm easily, and given that he wasn't able to use his weapon properly, probably the wisest thing to do. Yet the adversaries that haunted his past and present would never overcome him so long as his skill with his sword was peerless. Even now they sensed that he was weak, and they were becoming bolder and bolder, nipping at his senses like hungry dogs. He would prove to them that there was power in him yet, that his race was far from over.

He had spent far too long in useless contemplation. The dragon lifted its head, standing erect at its full height. The folds of his cloak began to beat against him, blocking his vision as the air around him was sucked away into the monster's maw as it prepared to unleash its hellish attack. A large gout from hell shot out towards him, swift as a bullet, swallowing him completely. Now he could see nothing but a blinding burning yellow curtain of infernal brilliance. He could see nothing else but the fire he had wrought. The superheated air seared his skin terribly… even as he had seen his victims being consumed slowly by the flames, seeing them turn from red to white to black, and then to nothingness. He could hear a crunching, crumpling, crackling noise as his clothes were set alight, as the whole town collapsed upon itself, burnt to a cinder by the magical fire he had set. He could smell nothing save that delicious, yet equally sickening aroma. That was the smell of his own burning flesh. The stink of destruction. The scent of death. It was everywhere, and he could not escape it.

"Sephiroth, please spare us! We have done you no wrong! Don't kill us…"

"All traitors to my race will die!"

"Aaauuggh!"

"Mommy… mommy? What did you do to mommy?"

"No… I beg of you… no… don't hurt my daughter…"

"No mercy!"

"Eaygh!"

Once more he began to kill the people of Nibelheim again, one by one by one. The Fire materia flared and flared and flared until the whole town was ablaze, until everyone began to die. He laughed at the screams of those trapped in their homes, enjoying the sight of the flames licking away their flesh. He had succumbed to such depraved behaviour. He had become a barbarian.

And when the villagers, crazed and despaired and afraid began to pour out, he began to hunger for their blood. Down the blade went, down it went again, and yet again. The screams of the dying invigorated him, the running blood soothed his eyes like fresh greenery. He had become nothing more than an angel from the blackest pit of hell, reveling in his neighbours' suffering.

No! I'm not a monster! What is all this? Why am I doing all these? NO!

The ghosts of Nibelheim were attacking him again. What revenge they could not find in life, they sought to the fullest in death. They were forcing him to relive his day of infamy forever and ever. Each time the flames burned with more ferocity, the screams became more shrill and haunting, the faces of the dead became more twisted and more terrifying. On that night not to remember he had started down the dark path, and now it seemed that it would forever dominate his destiny. And still the Masamune swung downwards, smoking with bloody execution…

And he had killed her daughter.

With one stroke I will slay two foes. That stupid girl will giggle no longer… and you, Cloud… you puppet… you think me mad… I will teach you the true meaning of insanity!

And once more he saw himself plunging down… to her death. The Masamune exploded from her bosom, and he saw the girl's eyes widen in abject shock. He could see the tears coming to those dying angel eyes now… he had caused the girl to cry! The green gemstone bounced off the stepping stones, vanishing into oblivion. He had destroyed a thing of beauty! The pink ribbon fluttered towards him, sticking to his face, and he peeled it away contemptuously, tossing it into the water. He had slain Innocence herself!

He thrust one booted foot onto her small back. If the blow had not already killed her, he would have split her spine. The sword came free once more, and… even though he hoped it wouldn't be true, it emerged stainless! The tears came to his demonic eyes as he could not restrain his mirth any longer. A horrible hollow chilling sound filled the entire cavern… and to his horror, it was coming from him! Strife was kneeling before him, crying like a little girl, cradling Gainsborough in his arms… he had unmanned his enemy! Her blood was pouring all over the puppet, drenching the entire altar, dripping into the pool below… desecrating this holy place! The fragrance of her wilting life was rising up like incense to his mother… that devil he'd been foolish enough to worship!

Who is the insane man now? Who's the one feeling angry and sad now? What am I now?

Gainsborough was still alive… Strife was still alive… but forever would their victory haunt him, remind him that everything he had strived for - all his power, all his prestige, and his skills came to nothing in the end! He was only a worm compared to that failed experiment and this cow - eyed flower seller! He was a fool to have challenged them! By defeating them that day, he had given them the strength to secure his ultimate defeat!

Holy… Holy... is there... Holy is shining... Aeris' prayer is shining!

And Sephiroth! To the settling of everything!

His Bizzaro and Safer forms had been defeated already, and now the puppet was coming to take his life. The white vortex receded, and Strife slowly emerged. He was unwillingly invited to view the showdown of fate once again… the duel that he had lost…

Time froze as the former SOLDIER stepped forth. His hurtful weapon was held high above him, the red blade blazing with all his pent - up passions, waiting for this very day to be released in bloody judgement. He had caused Strife pain and sadness, and now… it seemed that he himself would be on the receiving end now.

His expression was hard and firm, clear and fixed, no more contorted or struggling with anger or hurt or loss… he had made this clone suffer so much that now nothing could ever make him suffer again. Strife's eyes were deadly blue - green slits, smoldering coldly and harshly, hungering and thirsting for want of what it could never behold now… those angel eyes that he had closed permanently with the Masamune! The puppet was not afraid any more. No more words would come from him now, as his blade would sing his eulogy for his lost love. A love that could never be… thanks to his foolishness.

But still he had gone on laughing, unaware of the clear and present danger his folly had brought about, oblivious to the avatar of vengeance he had unwittingly created, now ready to claim his damned soul. He'd thought that he had become all - powerful, that he was superior to everyone at last! That collection of cells that called themselves Cloud - how could it possibly defeat him? Strife was just a body, a piece of meat that had somehow acquired free will! But now… only now did he know that he'd underestimated that man too… just as he'd underestimated that little crying girl he had seen so long ago! He had done nothing even as he saw the red streaks of energy strike out when the puppet - turned - hero summoned his strength. He was laughing even as the sword began to blaze at the tip with a star of unearthly white death. There was no way the young man could ever best him… there was no way that little creature could kill a god! But oh! The pain! The shower of blood! He continued to smile, as he thought that the pain would go away, that the wounds were superficial, far from adequate to hurt a higher being like him! But the agony became more and more unbearable as his final fate became more and more evident with every swift stroke of Strife's sword! Every part of his body was being ripped apart in a fatal flurry of destructive energy! The puppet could kill a god! He was dying again! He could see nothing but the red mist, hear nothing but the Ultima weapon butchering him, taste nothing but his own blood, smell the stink of his own flesh being exposed to the air, feel nothing but the anger… and the sadness at realising that his pride was literally killing him now!

OMNISLASH!

What was he thinking? Strife had not begun his attack yet! He wasn't dead yet! He wasn't going to die! No! He would win this time! Cloud may have been a strong opponent, but he was but dust before the great General Sephiroth! Hadn't he defeated him earlier? Hadn't he proved in the rocky circle that he was the better swordsman? He couldn't let that clone kill him all the time! The pain would be too great to endure! The embarrassment was already too great to bear!

NO! No more nightmares! Let the madness stop! NOOO!

He gripped the Masamune with both hands, sprinting towards Strife, resolving to cut the puppet off at mid - stroke. The tip of the holy sword touched the ground, tracing a fiery line, leaving a trail of molten rock as the last few feet melted away before him. At last he swung upwards, executing a terrible stroke that would surely shear off that blond head without a brain! And as the blade made contact with Strife's weak body, everything turned white! It was Holy! Her prayer was extinguishing him! No! He would not lose this time! Not to him! Not to her! Not to anyone! Never again! Blindly he lashed out at the light, hitting hard in every possible direction. His blade flashed in an unending flight of steel as he began to strike faster and faster at his invisible adversaries, every single ounce of vigour and energy at his command shunted into destroying the foes he knew were everywhere around him, yet nowhere to be seen! But for all his efforts, he was but one lone, intermittent blip of defiance drowned in the sea of pure brightness. He knew that it was a useless gesture against the inevitable, but he would never ever give up while he could still hold his sword!

The light faded at long last, and Sephiroth found that he could see again. He was on his knees, the Masamune at his feet. Of the dragon there was no sight, though the grey talus was now a sodden dark brown. He turned, looking for the wyrm, and found it. Numerous glistening red chunks were scattered all around him, steaming slightly. A few greenish - yellow sacs lay here and there, still throbbing visibly, as if the dragon (or whatever was left of it) was unable to concede that a lower lifeform had defeated it. His clothes felt heavy and sticky on him, but he should not have feared, for this time his blade too was stained completely red. He'd merely killed a monster. But still he remembered what happened several weeks earlier… then he was covered in blood… the ground was covered with blood… the girl's blood…

The man with white hair shook his head, wiping his eyes with his wet hands. He tried to assure himself that nothing was wrong, that Gainsborough was perfectly all right, yet he couldn't tear his mind away from the sorrow and hatred and pain that he, and he alone had caused! He couldn't stop dwelling on the humiliation he was suffering because of his foolish failings! He could make no mistake about it this time. He was going crazy… and he could do absolutely nothing about it!

*****

With two light steps, Sephiroth shuffled aside, letting his opponent's attack slice through the space he had just vacated. Even as sword arm went behind his shoulder, tensing up for the counterattack, he twisted his torso, changing his facing without moving a step. And as he turned the sword swept forward, a motion that, with his strength and the long reach of the Masamune, would strike his enemy in between the shoulder blades.

He lowered the blade. Once again he was in control of his skills. By right he should have been happy. But now he was no longer at ease. What was happening to him? Hadn't he gone over this so many times in that emerald hell? Hadn't he seen this an uncountable number of times whenever he fell asleep?

He could never stand defeat… because he had never been defeated before in his life! He knew that he was supposed to "atone" for his sins, but still he longed for revenge! At first he had wanted to kill the puppet, and he had nearly done so at the stone arena… but Gainsborough had stopped him! And Gainsborough… it was so unfair that he could not kill her! Why did she have to be Auntie's daughter? If only she wasn't the lone thread keeping him to this (miserable) life! If only she wasn't… so pretty! He would show them the meaning of vengeance! But no, in coming back here, he was denied even the chance to get even, for he could not even lay a finger on either of them! But then how would he ever get over his past, how could he slay the monsters tormenting his soul, if he couldn't find a way to lay them to rest? What was he supposed to do? Was there anything he could possibly do at all?

The SOLDIER general lifted up his trusty steel, holding it close to his face, ever ready to respond to any attack from the monsters created by his mind. Since young he had faced adversity, and the years had taught him that there was only one way to surmount it. But it had failed him once already. However, he knew from his experience that there was another option… the choice that he himself had forced others to make… but he knew that he would rather die a second time than accept it.

Sephiroth managed to fix his thoughts upon the next set of moves, and upwards he soared as he exercised the qinggong gravity - defying skill he had learned from the Wutaian masters. The air offered him no resistance as he sailed forward, right at another imaginary foeman. He leaned backwards, and his legs came up, almost to chest level, and he launched a series of quick kicks to stun and knock the phantom off balance. Holding his blade with both hands now, he landed with one hard jabbing steel - toed foot, pinning his opponent to the ground. With one critical strike to the heart, the fallen swordsman finished off his enemy.

While performing his routine, he had felt the hairs on his back tingle and a familiar nagging presence encroaching on his already beleaguered mind. His senses, honed by years of war and wilderness, told him that he was not alone. He thought that it was another migratory dragon insistent upon eating him alive, but the Jenova cells told him otherwise, and his suspicions were confirmed when for the briefest moment he saw a hint of pink lurking in the sidelines. Gainsborough had arrived.

The Cetra waif was sitting down on a boulder, flower basket at her side, staring straight at him. She had been observing all of his moves. She had obviously come to discover a potential flaw in his swordplay, and no doubt beneath that innocent cow - eyed gaze, she must have been secretly taking down mental notes, saving up what she considered nice little tidbits to squirrel away to Strife, telling him to take due care. But then again… her large eyes were now even wider than usual. Was she actually impressed? She was practically rooted to the ground. She looked more airheaded than normal, in fact. These were but his most basic moves. There was nothing about them to gawk around like an idiot.

The point of the Masamune touched the rocky earth as Sephiroth returned to the ready position he personally favoured. He had come here to practice his techniques, and only now was he regaining some semblance of competency. He would not let Gainsborough think that he could not hold his own as a martial arts exponent. He would show her, whether or not he was her slave, that he wasn't one of her little dolls to be trifled with!

He spied a large rock the size of a man's head a short distance in front of him. This would serve as the perfect object for the lesson he would teach Gainsborough. Blue - white electricity sparkled along the eight feet of metal, buzzing and crackling softly as the mage fire erupted into life. With one twist of his wrist he drove the blade into the hard earth, and a deep baritone rumble was heard as the ground beneath him began to shake. The tremors radiated outwards, as if a small earthquake had just occurred. The rock shot into the air, dislodged from its resting place by the shockwave. The silver - haired swordsman charged forward, raising his blade high, and when he was a few feet away from the large airborne stone he leapt upwards, and with one broad blue arc, he brought his sword down hard on the rock. The whole world flickered white as a terrible jagged argent beam of might flew down from heaven, drawn to his target by the charged blade. A monstrous crack of doom burst his ears as the rock was rent apart by the bolt of destructive light, and a large ring of rock fragments hurtled outwards, scattering to every corner of the arena.

Landing quietly on the ground, he turned to face the girl, and he was promptly gratified by what he saw. Gainsborough's face was now creamy white, and her eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. Both little hands were clasped over her open mouth, as if she'd just seen a rat or a cockroach. She seemed suitably thunderstruck by his little demonstration, and for a moment he wondered if she'd fall off the stone she was sitting on. She quickly recovered, however, and she got off the boulder, basket in hand, stepping slowly towards him. When she was a few feet away from him, she halted, looking upwards at him, engaging him now with a wide beaming smile and those wide angelic eyes… filled with newfound awe and interest…

"You were so impressive, Sephiroth! Here's a little something for you!" She reached into her basket, gently placing into his coat pocket a rose, light and pink like her dress, small and delicate like her.

The villain glared at the smiling girl, whatever little colour in his face even had quickly retreating, and his visage abruptly turned harsh, becoming the mask of anger his victims always saw before he killed them. What did she think he was? So he was but a pet in her eyes, lowly enough to be rewarded with a little treat whenever he performed some nice tricks to her liking! How humiliating! So… the General who once had the Planet in his hands was now reduced to eating out of the hands of that ditzy adolescent like an obedient little dog! His entire life had been one long struggle against a world filled with hurtful and cruel people, and he thought that he'd triumphed at last! But now… what would everyone think if they saw him as merely a lowly street performer? To think that such flagrantly foul words would ooze out of those small lips!

Letting go of his blade, he yanked the flower from his pocket, and with his free hand he grabbed the blossom, crushing it in his palm. With a sound like tearing cloth he ripped the petals from the stalk, throwing them back to the girl, hurling them in her face! This was intolerable! This was appalling! He would have none of it!

In response, he saw the girl give him a flash of that trademark smile, that cheerful look so terribly typical of her, as if she would never be one to feel down at all, as if she was never hurt by anything at all. It appeared that his "rejection" had not even grazed her a single bit, but he was certain that she was holding something back…

"Come on, Sephiroth! That rose was so nice! But it's all right, I don't mind you at all! I'm going to help you, so be a good guy!" Her smile broadened, revealing her small, white china teeth. Waving to him, she broke off, turning back towards the town. Now he was left to himself again… and now that his "guardian angel" had left, his troubles would come back for sure, and in greater numbers.

That infectious grin of hers. On that day so many years ago she had appeared to him as just an innocent little girl with milk teeth. Had Gainsborough changed so much since then? On one hand she kept claiming that she wanted to help him, yet she dared to insult him like this! This was so bewildering, so incongruous! But he had to keep reminding himself that deceit could be found around every corner. Even a child could tell a lie with equal facility as an adult. They had to be seen, not heard. Gainsborough, though she seemed so childlike all the time, was no different.

He would have to remain watchful, and maintain his grim vigil over the enemy…

*****

The morning was already gone. The breeze blew no more, and it seemed far colder now. The lilting trill of the birds had stopped, and the light seemed to have faded somehow. The man was not willing to emerge from the shadows yet. He was still so afraid… so suspicious of her slightest gesture… What did she do wrong this time? How had she provoked him? He had flown into such a terrible rage. He had been so fearsome to behold… his anger had turned a handsome knight like him into an ugly dragon. She hadn't been prepared to receive such a violent response from him. It had been so much easier to draw Cloud out of his shell, it took only a few giggles, a promise and a date to turn the sandy - haired man into a fine young gentleman. But for Sephiroth… he was so reluctant to share his thoughts with someone else… he was so hesitant about allowing someone to get to know him… to the extent that he would defend himself against even the most casual onlooker as he would an enemy after his life. She would have to handle him with care… as carefully as she would a child.

"Afternoon, Aerith!"

Blinking away the milky film of sleep from her sight, Aeris found a small face shining at her, alight with mirth and cheekiness. Marlene had returned from school. It was time for her to be a sister to the little girl.

The florist pushed aside the covers, putting away her comforter, patting her young friend's head.

"Are you hungry, Marlene?" she asked, a hint of worry creeping into her voice. Silently she scolded herself for falling asleep too soon. She'd forgotten to prepare lunch for the family! Indeed, she'd gone to bed without even removing her jacket or her ribbon, and now her hair was probably a mess.

"Dun worry, Aunt Elmyra cooked for me! She told me not to disturb yoo! But can't I play with yoo, Aerith?"

"Why not, dear? This sounds fun!" She'd never had anyone to play with when she was a child, and she'd spend her days looking out of the window, watching the children enjoy themselves, not without feeling a slight, gnawing pang of emptiness. She wanted to be out there, playing with them. But they had never allowed her to join them. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew that she was "different", that she could hear the voice of the Planet and speak with the people in the spirit world, and they had unnerved them greatly. The kids ran away from her whenever she left the house. They didn't want to have anything to do with "that mad witch". Even those few whom she could approach dealt with her at arm's length, refusing to say anything more than a hello and a goodbye. So… she had sought solace in the companionship of her flowers.

"Oh yeah!" The flower merchant was rewarded with the sight of Marlene bouncing several feet in the air, positively elated. A small marker pen fell out of her pocket, skittering across the floor. Realising what had happened, the schoolgirl quickly stretched out one small hand, grabbing the marker, concealing it behind her back, but her grown - up friend had already seen it.

Aeris presently got up, straightening out her dress and jacket, padding on bare feet across the pink - wallpapered room. Reaching the dresser, she took out her hairbrush, beginning to straighten the locks of chestnut hair that had been bent and twisted around as she slept. And it was then, when she gazed into the looking - glass, that she issued forth a startled yelp.

Painstakingly painted on her cheek was one large flower, done in bright blue ink. Pulling out her hanky, she tried to rub it away, but the ink was indelible, and Marlene's handiwork persisted. She wheeled around to face the little kid, who was even now clutching her side, nearly bending double as a tide of giggling overcame her. So that was what she was doing with that pen!

"Marlene! How could you do this?!" The floral pattern had became more than just an outline, as a generous splash of crimson colour quickly filled it in. Her hands flew upwards, framing her face symmetrically, concealing her embarrassment. "You naughty girl!"

The girl suddenly ceased her laughter, realising that the flower lady wasn't taking her practical joke very well. She deftly shifted gears, entering damage control mode. Her eyes began to water, her knees began to chatter, and a frightened gasp came out at just the right time as she quaked like a little leaf about to be snapped away from the tree by a torrid draft.

"…Aerith… Are yoo angry with mee…?" Several large teardrops began to fall in sync with her voice, which had become soft, hesitant and wavering. In the space of a heartbeat, the cheerful and bubbly Marlene had transformed into a teary and mournful little girl.

Aeris stood frozen, unable to respond. What had she done now? If annoying Sephiroth was bad enough, now she had driven her little friend to tears! Had she forgotten that she had been the crying girl once? She had approached the children, wanting to make friends with them, and they had responded by pelting her with stones and throwing unkind words her way. She had hidden in the storeroom, out of Elmyra's sight, crying herself to sleep. Everyone hated her! Marlene had merely wanted to have a little fun… and she had taken it way too seriously! Those boys and girls were not to blame, as they were afraid of her, and they had misunderstood her intentions. She was now an adult, and surely she knew better than to behave as uncaringly as they had! This was an excellent chance for her to discover what fun she could've had, had she only been a little more fortunate… and it would be nothing but cruel to make Barret's little daughter suffer like she had!

The Ancient squatted down, embracing the girl, patting her back, wiping away her tears. "I'm sorry, darling… I wasn't angry with you! I want to play too… I want you to be happy."

The smile returned to the girl's face as quickly as the tears had come. "Yay! You're the best, flower lady!" The pen reappeared in her hand, "Let's have more fun!"

The young Cetra sighed as her hair was pushed away, and she felt the marker press against her clean cheek. Marlene was happy now. When was the last time she had enjoyed herself? When had she last put aside the burden of age and responsibility, becoming a free spirit, turning into a child again, free to savour the beauty surrounding her, not caring about the sorrows and pains that had come to symbolise their world? Oh, it had seemed so long ago, that enchanting, yet heartbreaking night when she was truly alone with the clouds, watching the starlight burst in rainbow hues all around her. She had returned feeling ready to take on anything, confident that everything would turn out fine for her in the end. She wanted to discover the magic again. Enjoying a little game with the kid was nothing perhaps, but even in such a trivial activity she would be able to savour the joys of being a little girl again. She would emerge completely confident and content, like a happy child. Then… she might be able to withstand the cold perhaps, maybe even bring warmth and life back to the bleak, dying autumn.

"Make me beautiful, Marlene… and when you're done, I'll see what I can do for you, you sweet little thing."

*****

In a corner of the bedroom did Sephiroth stand, secretly watching the touching little scene with no small amount of disdain. The foolishness of Gainsborough never ceased to amaze him. She had allowed the girl to doodle all over her, treating herself like a mere piece of scrap paper! Now, the manipulator was being manipulated. What benefit could she possibly obtain by lowering herself to humour that little kid? Surely someone as cunning and intelligent as her would knew that she didn't need to go to the extent of trying to appeal for sympathy votes from that girl! No one would ever pay attention to a child. No one would listen to them. Yet… if she knew that she could expect nothing in return… why in heaven's name was she acting completely to her detriment, trying to please the kid at the expense of her personal pride and dignity? Gainsborough hadn't punished the child… but she had set her annoyance aside, trying to make her happy. No one would ever do this… no one would ever be that nice to a little one… except Auntie and Uncle…

He had been hiding in a cluster of trees near the playground, waiting for the boys and girls to finish their game before he himself could go near and play by himself. On no account could he be seen, for they hated him, though he had done nothing to trouble them. But they had discovered him despite his best efforts, and as a body the children had hunted him down, punching and kicking and stepping on him. "Sissy! Long - haired freak! Weakling!" they had chanted as they continued their causeless chastisement. After what seemed an eternity, they had finally left, hissing and spitting at him.

It took a long time for Sephiroth to hobble back to the house, his tail between his legs, dragging along on the ground. Stepping inside, he noticed a new piece of equipment near the doorway. The Professor's work never ceased, even after he had left the laboratory, and often he would see his uncle working on an experiment inside the living room, with Ifalna serving him a cup of tea or a piece of cake, sitting at his side, chatting him up.

The device was a complex thing in itself, a full metre in height, length and width, boasting a large array of knobs, buttons, switches and levers. Its numerous lights flashed coldly at him, and the dials and indicators continued to swivel back and forth nonchalantly. The machine continued its pre - programmed processes, ignoring him altogether, regarding his presence somewhat unsympathetically.

So this was how the whole wide world would treat him. They were all treating him like a slave, a sub - human. Oh, how he wished he could show them that he deserved better, that he was at least their equal, or even better than them! Then they wouldn't think of him like this! They wouldn't laugh at him! They wouldn't bully him! He didn't want to be forever pushed around by someone else! He wanted to be strong!

He snarled, and he hammered against the glass plates and indicator screens with his balled fists, his foot repeatedly making fierce contact with the large panels and instrument bays of the machine. But despite his best efforts to defeat the system, the device stood unmoved. His toes were aching terribly, yet he hadn't even made the slightest dent in its thick metal hide. His knuckles were skinned, the blood slowly welling up in protest, but the large glass screens were not even scratched.

Reality then began to speak to him, simply and mercilessly. He was but an insignificant speck of dust to be blown about at the wind's whims. He was nothing at all. Even the dogs and cats in the street were far better than him. At least they had fang and claw, and they could fight back. And as for him… he couldn't even lift a finger against them. He was reduced to placating himself by striking out at an inanimate object that didn't even know it was being attacked, which couldn't even feel the pain he was trying to inflict. Might would always prevail in the end. You would forever be a slave to one who was stronger than you.

"What are you doing, Sephy?!"

The noise he had made had sent Professor Gast running to the hall, where he saw his ward attempt to destroy the machine. His uncle always treated his equipment with the same respect as he did the written word, maintaining them properly, never abusing them if they failed to perform the operations he requested, and he expected his colleagues to do the same. He had no doubt obtained this particular device out of his own pocket, and with no small amount of effort. Sephiroth saw the blue eyes shrink slowly, the lips turning into a thin line, all the lines on his face becoming more and more pronounced, the starched white coat stiffening further as the bent, middle - aged man began to stand up straight. He shut his eyes and waited, expecting his foster father to punish him, to treat him as carelessly and callously as those kids had done. But the long - awaited moment of parental vengeance never materialised.

"Go ahead and beat me! Isn't that what you want to do?"

The Professor merely looked long and hard at him, before shaking his head, laying a hand on the shoulder of the downtrodden boy.

"Sephy… I'm not going to punish you. I can always get my machine replaced. But we have only one of you… you're like a son to me… why should I hurt you like this? Hitting you will never solve the problem."

"What… Uncle? You're not beating me? But everyone wants to hurt me! No one wants to play with me! No one cares about me! The whole world hates me!"

"Hmph… those bullies… how dare they! Sephy, don't compare yourself with them! You're a far better person than all of them combined. Don't let them make you think that everyone's like this. There are good people out there… someone will appreciate you for sure. And no matter what happens, even if everyone's against you, you're still one of us… As long as we're here, you'll be liked and loved… and you definitely won't be alone."

His uncle's gentle words had taken away the anger, the helplessness and hopelessness welling up within him, and for a moment he forgot about his inferiority and his craving for strength and power. Was the Professor right? Would someone out there actually take him at face value, with all his faults, all his wrongdoing, even accept his madness? Those few who cared for him - his mother, his guardians - they were all in heaven now. They might be watching over him, but he was still effectively soldiering on alone. And the world was still as cruel as ever. Had Uncle Gast been merely trying to molly - coddle him?

The SOLDIER's thoughts returned to the scene before him, feeling a lump settle in his throat, getting amazed and appalled as he saw what the child was doing to Gainsborough now. Her watched as her hair was parted in the centre, then tied into two long ponytails, one hanging at each side. But that was not the end of it. The girl Marlene then began to twist and turn the two locks of hair, twisting them round and round the sides of her friend's head until it seemed as if Gainsborough had grown a pair of ram's horns. It that was supposed to be some exotic and fanciful hairstyle, to him it seemed as if she had taped two chocolate buns to her head.

The kid was not done yet, though. In a laughable pretence of being precocious, she had brought out the tools, implements and consumables used for vanity's sake. The air around the two girls was soon clouded with slight puffs of pink powdery smoke before the wind sent them away. It was fortunate that he was only here in spirit, otherwise he'd be choked to death by that infernal cloying fragrance caused by the blushpots. Not satisfied with using the powder puff to her heart's content, she had taken out a tube of lipstick, holding its bullet - pointed tip towards her target as casually as one would hold a pencil. And like someone who was holding a pencil for the first time in her life, she started colouring her friend's face with it, and she did not stop until the rouge had receded well into the little plastic container.

Even though Sephiroth was a hardened warrior, he still felt his stomach turn and the lumps becoming more pronounced and harder to swallow. Not only did the gardener now have a horrendous hairstyle, her face had become a cheery pinkish mess, lumpy and crusted with powder, the monotony of it all broken by many merry red polka dots painted haphazardly everywhere. The white mage had changed jobs, turning into a clown.

The schoolgirl slowly led her to the mirror, and when the Ancient at last stared at her marvelous countenance, to his surprise, she did not faint or scream as he had expected a wuss like her to do. Instead, he heard a soft sound of mirth, clear and warm, rich and pure - it was the music of a delighted heart. She placed her hand on her forehead, covering her face as she continued to laugh at her own embarrassment. Her eyes narrowed, shrinking to small green slits, but they were not forced shut by anger or sadness. Flooded with tears, they seemed to glow warmly now, flowing with liquid magic… like a spring from paradise…

Gainsborough was happy. Too happy for him. This was so strange… how could this make her so happy? Why was she able to laugh herself to tears over this? It wasn't as if her dire plans were coming to fruition, and neither had her enemy been cowed into submission! Why was it so easy for her to smile and laugh and forget about all her problems while he was the damned one doomed to watch with envy and agony? She was no better than him, and he was no worse than her!

She had surpassed even her normal petty, childish self this time. Her behaviour was so volatile, so incongruous, so devoid of constancy. He thought that he'd had the measure of her. He thought that he had fully understood the doctrine his enemy followed, her tactics, her standard operating procedures, but now she herself had thrown the strategy book out of the window. She was trying to control him, be a false light to everybody… manipulate the world around her, gently coerce everyone into fulfilling her airheaded aims (what was she trying to achieve anyway?)… but here she was, wasting her time over such a trivial matter as entertaining a kid! She had readily volunteered to become the thrall of that little whelp, but why? Did she even care in the first place? No one who sought to dominate and to rule would ever stoop so low! What was wrong with her? Why couldn't he understand her?!?

But then… something was sifting slowly back up to the surface of his mind, dredged up from the depths of oblivion by the catastrophes that had shattered the fragile plates that comprised his consciousness… those memories… those good memories… buried underneath years upon years of suffering, an ancient city forgotten by time… they were all returning now… telling him of what he'd once enjoyed… what he'd always missed, what he wanted to have again…

Even though the children would never play with him, Auntie Ifalna was there to take their place. Wasn't she always so cheerful, so ready to laugh whenever he did something funny? Her smile had calmed him. The sound of her merry voice had warmed him. And he had gone on, doing any number of silly things just to amuse her. It had been so delightful to have someone enjoying his company, appreciating whatever he did, being happy with him. He had felt… contented… He had wanted for nothing then…

Could he reasonably entertain the possibility that she was more like her mother than just the way they looked alike? Was she actually motivated to take care of the child because she cared for her? But to do so would be to reject everything he'd believed of her from the very start. Could he afford to do that? Could he tread safely down that dark path? What would happen to him? Would he succumb totally to her will? Would he turn into a hapless fool like his clones if he were to lower his guard now? Aeris Gainsborough… that villainess in pink… if only she wasn't so complex or so perplexing!

There was a slow creak of brass hinges, and the old crone who had wielded the chopper hobbled in, passing right through his spirit self. He snickered as he saw her blanch and take several large steps backward from the monstrosity that appeared to be her adopted daughter.

"Look at you, Aeris! What's happened to you?" She shook her head, glaring at Marlene, who was still in possession of the make - up kit, "And you! Doing this to your own friend! Shame on you!"

"But she wanted to play with mee, Auntee!" The kid did not cry now, but now she flashed her caretaker with a disarming grin. The small one was smart for her age. She knew which approach to use, which cards to play.

Elmyra clucked her tongue, giving the flower seller a disapproving look. "You're spoiling her, Aeris. Off to the bathroom! You were never like that even when you were a little girl!"

"Yes, mom," Gainsborough spoke meekly, shuffling lightly away. Even though she had been cowed by the hag, the light - heartedness refusing to fall from her face.

He heard a rough, brash voice coming from below. The puppet had returned. As much as he wanted to continue his observation of the enemy, it was time for him to leave. While the Jenova cells made his spirit body invisible to mortal eyes, yet it was not impossible for someone to detect him. The bizarre enchantments in the Temple of the Ancients had defeated his disguise, and Strife, who also possessed the cells, was able to see him easily. He had to retire now, or be discovered again in a humiliating fashion.

He still didn't know what made him personally visit the Cetra in the hospital. It would have been so easy just to will himself to where she was, and he would have been able to observe her with the utmost secrecy, without the fear of being seen by her. But then… that look on her face when he'd awakened her had been priceless… his initial embarrassment had been overshadowed by stranger emotions, and now they were starting to tug at him again…

Now he had plenty of things to think about, and plenty to get confused over. His hair was tossed into the air as he unfurled his huge black bat wing, and he glided towards the window, a large dark shape that cast no shadow, the sweep and beating of his wing unheard by anyone. In a moment the sun peeked once more into the room. The melodies of birdsong began anew with greater gusto, as if nature was waiting with joyful anticipation for the end of the season, for the jolly snows to come and the good cheer that came with it. The chilling touch of autumn was gone.

*****

Reno sat at the open window, listening to the lonesome lullaby of the night wind, taking a long drink from his bottle as he waited for the time to pass him by.

So Aeris was really alive. Those reports were actually true. He'd thought that the blue - masked guards had screwed things up like they usually did, but he'd seen her with his own eyes… and at that moment he knew what the old idiom "the living dead" really meant.

He'd notified Shinra HQ of his findings, and his pride was very slightly injured by the communications returning to him. Apparently, Rufus didn't trust him very much either, as they'd wanted confirmation of his sightings. He'd duly submitted some video footage, voice clips and photographs, believing that the experts would be able to compare them with the records they had on file about the Ancient. But his boss was still not convinced, (the robot President was probably still a bit nonplussed that the Turks had disbanded after he'd "died"), and thus the red - headed spy had been ordered to obtain a DNA sample to verify her identity. That had been a rather simple matter. A "chance meeting" in the hospital, and the nurse had given in to his every whim… he had taken what he'd needed and left her hugging the pillow (hopefully Elena wouldn't hear of it… business to her was no excuse for him to have pleasure, especially if she wasn't the woman involved).

He frowned over the long string of text messages clogging up his PHS inbox. The report from the labs was now in. Shinra had several separate and identical DNA profiles of the girl on record, each taken at a different time, and the blood sample he'd taken from the nurse had been compared against all three of them. Hojo had collected genetic material from her twice, first when he had captured her as a baby; later on, when Tseng brought her in, the mad scientist had managed to extract a fresh set of cells before Cloud and the others had rescued her. Finally, a recovery team had provided conclusive evidence of her death by obtaining a tissue sample from the Forgotten Capital after Sephiroth and Avalanche had concluded their little battle. The medical team had verified that his sample had registered a hundred percent match with all three genetic profiles.

There could be no doubt now that this fine young lady was really the flower merchant who had died over a year ago, but still he could not understand how she had come back to life. For a moment he pondered over whether the girl was a clone, but dismissed it quickly. Only Shinra possessed cloning technology, and the know - how behind it was almost as jealously guarded as that of the Jenova Project, and despite the fall of Shinra, the secret remained firmly in the power company's hands. To his best knowledge, he knew of only one true clone ever been produced, and that was the duplicate of Sephiroth that had caused them so many problems. There was no way the Cetra girl was one of their clones.

At any rate, he would be able to ask her about it very soon. Their orders had been changed the moment her identity had been confirmed. They were now told to attack immediately, and he'd received very specific instructions from the President himself on what to do with the flower seller. But he had to concede that he was not terribly satisfied with the way things were proceeding. He'd complained about the lack of men, that two squads of SOLDIERs was far from sufficient to deal with all nine members of Avalanche, but the robotic CEO apparently had his hearing a wee bit affected ever since Diamond Weapon blew him to bits. To think of it, Rufus had gotten more than just a little dotty… and a tad more grumpy and impatient to boot.

But then, he could overlook the boss's tall order, as they had reasons of their own to perform this mission. Rude had simply nodded when he was told of their orders, while Elena… she had been sulking in a corner for the past few days for some reason or other, but now she seemed willing enough, very willing indeed. She had even given him a rather grim smile, and proceeded to load her gun with a sense of purpose he hadn't seen in her before. After all, they were the Turks… weren't they taught from day one that they were capable of handling anything? Maybe they were, but there was a limit to what they could do… and he could only hope that this job wasn't beyond their abilities. But then, death was merely an occupational hazard.

The corporate raider waited as his watch took silent note of the passing time, watching the automatic mechanism make its endless cycles around the illuminated face without a single jerk or jitter. His little vigil was coming to an end soon, yet his jittery mind sought a diversion to pass the time.

It was in the burnt - out subways of Midgar, amongst the melting and buckling ruins of the once - great organisation that the Turks had surrendered what they had prized most dearly. They had been charged with the task of destroying the rebel group, and once the Turks were entrusted with a mission, they would never fail to complete it. They were the covert enforcers of Shinra's will, the gloved fist of the organisation, a super - snazzy secret service loyal only to the company. They would always succeed - one way or another, by hook or by crook. The end always justified the means. And not only would they complete their mission, they would complete it on their terms too. No fighting while on holiday, and not until they had finished their drinks. They would make the enemy wait for them… and the bad guys would be pissing in their pants long before the men in blue showed up.

The Turks had found Avalanche in those dark tunnels, and the eight who had survived were at their strongest, motivated by the destruction of their enemies, fired up by the desire to avenge their fallen comrades, to seek redress for their sufferings. His group had only just begun to realise what sort of plight they had fallen into. Those who had assigned them the mission were already dead. The President, the best and only authority figure in the company, was gone, and those remaining were only madmen trying to grab a share of what little was left of the company's assets. The organisation they had devoted their very lives to had been destroyed. There was nothing for them to strive for now, nothing to be gained from continuing the fight, nothing to celebrate about even if they were to win.

Reno had only Hobson's choice left open to him, and it was a hard one, as it went against everything he'd ever learnt as a proud member of Shinra Inc. And so… the once - proud Turks had retreated without avenging their injured pride. Pious aspirations had taken a back seat to practicality. But now… both parties had survived. Shinra was back in business. No longer were the three of them unemployed salarymen, but now the Mako firm had welcomed them back. They had a job to complete, and they had old scores to settle.

From a deep pocket of his coat he removed a long, thin rod the length of his forearm. He turned a little dial, and noted with satisfaction as the power bars quickly climbed up the small display screen. The nightstick was fully charged. Setting down his weapon of choice, Reno withdrew a pistol from a concealed shoulder holster. Depressing the release mechanism, he caught the magazine with his free hand. Reassured by the glint of the brass bullet casing peeking out of the lip of the magazine, he slid it slowly back into the gun. He pulled the slide rearwards and released it, hearing a tangible click as the weapon was cocked and the chamber was loaded.

Now there was one final duty he was required to discharge as the leader of the Shinra Manufacturing Department in Administrative Research. With one hand he began to button up his shirt, and with the other he casually dusted off the remnants of a hastily eaten TV dinner from his coat. His dark blue designer suit also doubled up as a set of pyjamas, and it took him a little while to smoothen out the kinks and creases he had forced his clothes to suffer. A brief splash here and there with his eau de toilette, and he was done. As a Turk, he had to appear decently presentable, especially since he was going into battle.

Reno stared again at his timepiece, waiting for the longest and thinnest hand to complete its final revolution. It seemed to take forever for it to pass the number twelve, but eventually the appointed time came strolling happily up towards him. It was now three in the morning. The night was darkest in the hours just before dawn, and his opponents, startled from deepest sleep, would be too weary to fight - or so the spy novel said. He thumbed a switch on his PHS, and was replied with a short burst of static as he was instantly connected to the rest of his strike team (or what would be left of it, after dealing with Avalanche).

"Good morning everybody, have you all slept tight tonight? Just to let you know, the forests of Timber have changed, but the owls are still there."

"Yes! We attack now! But what sort of code word is this, Reno?"

The redhead gritted his teeth, resisting the horribly sweet temptation to send back a stinging rebuke over the airwaves. Elena had done it yet again. The blonde was a competent operative, but she always had a remarkable propensity to give the game away at the most critical times. If the enemy had been snooping on them, she would have single - handedly compromised the entire operation by now. Well… the mistake had already been made, and at any rate, it was highly unlikely that Cloud or anyone would be listening to them (but then again, Elena was loud enough to awaken even him from a hard - earned drunken stupor). He had to play along with it now.

"Go! Go! Go!" Hopefully his shout would direct her attentions to the job at hand (and cut off any smart comments from her as well). His lips were fused to the bottle as he finished off the rest of the cold beer, and when that was done, he tilted his head backwards, upending the bottle, making sure that not a single drop went to waste. In his particular profession, he had to make every drink count; it would really suck if he were to die without wetting his whistle. Satisfied at last, Reno tossed the bottle to the side, holstering the pistol, grabbing his nightstick. With his free hand latched onto the window - sill, he vaulted out into the night, and his dark blue figure was instantly blotted out by the all - concealing shadows.

The redhead began to smile, his morale boosted significantly as the alcohol took effect. He was actually starting to look forward to fighting Avalanche again, and it would probably be, like the last few times they had met, a most animated and passionate little soiree involving some mild bloodshed and a wee little bit of carnage. It was always nice to complete some unfinished business. He would prove that the spirit of the Turks was burning within them again. They would complete the mission this time.

A/N: Well… thank you for waiting! It's been such a long time… school is really death on fanfiction. And if that's not enough, well, my exams are starting in 2 weeks' time. Hell. I wish I could save my progress on a memory card in case I start failing or something… I feel as if I'm gonna face Emerald Weapon with nothing but a Mop and one or two unmastered materia (nope, the Final Attack - Phoenix combi isn't available to me).

At any rate, they're producing Advent Children! Cloud looks like Tidus on a crash diet, and Sephy… he looks kinda sad… a bit like Prince Arthas in Warcraft III. Sephiroth fangirls rejoice! But where, oh where, is our dearest flower girl? Come on, Nomura - san, give the Aeris fanboys something to cheer about! It seems that Cloud's still thinking about her… the sources say that he's been living alone, and you see him in the church looking around… makes you wonder what he did after the events in the Northern Crater, when he promised to go and look for her. But then again, even if Aerith appears… Square may leave it as a surprise… the official websites for KH never mentioned her at all… all the FF cameo characters were introduced save her… it took the people previewing the game to tell us about her… so I won't give up hoping yet. What do you think? It would have been nice if FFVII AC was a proper sequel, but something is better than nothing, I guess?

Do you remember the opening cutscene, where Aeris is seen walking away from a movie poster titled "Bloody Valentine" and "Loveless"? To me, that foreshadowed her eventual fate. But that's so sad, especially for a sweet girl like her. Why is Aerith such a lively and bubbly character on one hand, but becomes as glum as Vincent whenever she's left to herself? Yeah, it's my fault, I just like to portray her that way=). But Sephy has seen that side of her too… and he doesn't just view it as a potential weakness to exploit. "The big bad enemy doesn't seem so bad after all…" Forgive his ungentlemanliness.

You remember those creepy scenes of Sephy in the Temple? He split himself up into multiple images, and each of them started waving the Masamune… I thought that the idea of Sephiroth gaining the ability to spirit - walk and project his essence around was a bit cool… it also allows him to view what our dear Ancient is doing without him being physically there. But what happened to his pet prejudices? I thought that he didn't really like spying or sneaking around? But he did enough of that in the game. More like, he basically silenced everyone who detected him.

Sephiroth wasn't big, bad or strong when he was a kid… rather more like Squall was when he was growing up in the orphanage… dressed in a Charlie Brown shirt, waiting every day for Ellone to return. Leon grew up into an angsty and bitter young man with misanthropic tendencies because of his childhood (though the kids in the orphanage, with the exception of Seifer, weren't too bad a bunch). You would wonder what sort of person Sephy would have become had Ifalna and the Professor been there to bring him up. Edea did try to help Squall, but too bad she went mad…(As a side note, why is it that Rinoa is not a member of the orphanage gang? Why is that so significant? Is she the special person apart from the rest of them who is alone worthy enough for Squall?)

Finally… the Turks remind me of the Japanese salaryman executives… devoted in their own little way to the job, their friends and to the company. They're like the yazuka dressed in Armani suits, yet with the savvy of Bond and the goofiness of Laguna. They're cool, but they just have the misfortune of fighting for the wrong side. We'll of course be seeing more of them soon.

Well… there'll be some action in the next chapter… just wait for it to come up, okay? I know you'll be waiting eagerly… consider seriously setting an author alert setting for this story (if you actually think the wait is worth itg) but now, please excuse me… I must go and prepare for my boss fight… grr.

You know the drill, this is, well, a reply segment where I try to answer your questions and comments (and especially your praises!

To Homunculus:

Hey, hope you don't get offended by the way Sephy treated the flower! I had that idea long before I saw the pix of Aerith with the flower! He hasn't quite learned to appreciate the significance of such a gift yet (he's a klutz when it comes to romantic stuff). Oh, and your drawing of Agrarias looked quite cool too. Man, I barely missed being visitor no. 1234 by a few numbers! Good luck with your classes.

To Starling94:

Hey, let's see more of Aeris soon! What will Squall think when he finds out that his dad is a Turk! Can't wait to see the next chapter of A Plot Between Worlds… be nice to your dad and mom… and be nice to your com… But I'm sure you'll get it done, no matter what happens.

To Phantom Kensai:

Ah yes, the Japanese way of expressing love. I'm trying to keep to it, but it's hard, especially since I'm more familiar with the western style. Squaresoft was trying to drop hints all over the place about who Cloud really liked, but they never said it overtly, so the matter was still left open in a sense… I donno, maybe AC will resolve it once and for all… let's see if they borrow any more ideas from Tales of Phantasia.

To Silvawolf:

Yes, your foresight and prudence in putting this story in "faves" has paid off! Does the story actually make heavy reading? Well, just go slowly and enjoy it!

To Starfall4790():

You know why Sephy didn't show up in the previous chapter? The chibi - aeriths in my house wanted me to give their big sister a lot more airtime! I would love to speak more about the Avalanche crew, but this is primarily a romance story between our two fave characters, and Avalanche is a darned big group to be writing about. You'll see some of them come and go and return as the story unfolds (still simmering within my overburdened head).

To LewsTherinInsanity:

Your command is my wish. Enjoy. Be patient for the next chapter, for the reasons given above=).

To Manga - Lunatic:

Hey… thanks. I find myself better able to communicate to others in writing, and only then, when I have fleeting flashes of inspiration. You should hear me speak… I have the conversational skills of Donald Duck! I restrict my words to "Hi", "Bye" and monosyllables. I'm sure you'll do better than me, just keep on going.

To Setsuna():

This romance is very slow - going… but necessarily so, since they're, erm, enemies. But this is chapter 14, and the main part of the story hasn't started yet, so I'm wondering whether I'm doing it too slowly! Wish me luck… I am still trying to strike a balance between the cheerful and angsty Aerith.

To the Constructicons:

Hey, why don't you guys take a break and unmerge… surely this chapter has more energon fuel for thought this time!

To Quincy007:

There is one simple answer why Sephy's like that… he's mad. And as for Aerith… it's a bit hard for someone who's had a terrible childhood to be always lively and vivacious, but she tries hard, too hard I think. The line is blurred between "faked" happiness and real happiness, and so we would have to ask the question as to when she is actually enjoying herself. She has her reasons for acting like that… but none of her friends have actually realised what is happening… But don't consider your character analysis amateur, you hit the nail very well I think! Keep on reviewing!

To Code-Wyze:

My style is merely descriptive. While I prefer to set everything down to the last detail, the true masters set out the broad parameters, dropping hints here and there, and leaving the reader to imagine the world for himself, letting him come to his own conclusions and draw his own inferences. But heck, that's my way of doing things, so I'm glad everyone approves of it.

Tifa and Cloud do have a role to play as good supporting characters, but your suggestion is quite interesting. What would they think?

To Falling Rain:

Whoa… almost missed out your name! I'm getting too many reviews! Cait Sith wasn't too bad, he was just a good guy trying to survive in a bad company, but some of his teammates find it hard to forget his treachery. I think Squaresoft erred when they gave him only 2 limits. It's a bit hard trying to balance things out with 8 or 9 characters. For me, I chose Cloud, Aerith and Tifa exclusively, and from disc 2 onwards, Barret.

To Dark Ha Des:

Given that Yuffie is a materia thief, I believed that she'd definitely get a crack at the White Materia. It's another matter whether you can use the Black Materia… as Aerith said, you need great spiritual strength to utilise its powers. I'm trying to keep everyone in character, but it's hard… especially what you want the character to do is potentially OOC, must find a way to keep their actions within the general framework of their personalities.

Why did Vincent blink? He knows about Aerith's purpose in returning to this world, and he's probably sussed out what's going on. He is the typical guy who knows and understands more than what he lets on - you have to ask him before he'll share it with you.

To Crow T R0bot:

Lucky you! I knew I was taking too long when your second review came! Maybe I'll read Transcending Reality, if I get the time to do so. Hey, good luck with your crossover. You should be able to do it, especially since you have a good knowledge of the subject matter.

Darned formatting problems - ff.net isn't perfect. Even MS word gives me probs. I also have spacing problems. Skip one line, I get half an inch of space. Skip the next, and you get two. Try saving the file as HTML. Don't worry though. It's what's in the story that matters, not what it looks like. I'll see what I can do. I hate computers.

I live in Singapore - the former Indonesian president Habibie likened my country (it's about 65 km in length) to a "little red dot". But it's quite a significant red dot, since it appears in almost every world map and globe.