Notes: Thanks again to everyone who's helped with plot and occupation suggestions! And thanks to all reviewers!

Chapter Two

The concert had gone relatively well, all things considering. First they had nearly been rained out, and they had been in the process of changing the venue when the weather had cleared. Then the opening band had cancelled, and they had desperately looked for a replacement. Not finding one, the event's main attraction had decided to instead do a longer show himself. His manager had protested, but the singer had prevailed, as usual. The audience had loved it, so he felt that it had been worthwhile, despite how tired he now felt.

The last thing he wanted right now was for his manager to bother him about his actions, and so as he went back to his dressing room, he made sure to lock the door behind him. Then, smirking, he lay down on the soft, deep green couch, letting his silver locks fall around his face as he draped an arm over his eyes.

He had everything that someone of his young age could want---fame, fortune, power, and a certain kind of freedom. Yet, he wondered just how free he was. The life of a celebrity was complicated. There were always various things he needed to take care of---photo shoots, meetings, planning public appearances, and of course, writing and recording his music. He could not deny that a certain part of him enjoyed being in the spotlight. Still, in these quiet moments, he wondered why.

He had been found as a teenager by his manager, declared to be a "prodigy", and had quickly been whisked into the beginnings of the life he now was experiencing. As an orphan, there had never been parents to agree or disagree with this arrangement, and those running the orphanage had been pleased to be rid of him. He had always been different, they said---quiet and distant. Not shy, or afraid, but simply not caring to speak. He had been passed over for adoption many times because of that aspect of his personality. Maybe they had thought that by letting him be taken by this Cid Highwind person, he would become more outgoing.

Well . . . he was not. He was polite enough to his fans, and they adored and admired him, but he was still the same distant, sarcastic person that he had always been. He never let anyone into his heart, and even though he had ended up on a date or two with an up and coming star from a rival band, he was simply not interested in continuing the relationship. He had told her so right before the concert had begun, in fact, and he imagined that Cid knew by now. She had probably gone right to him in a huff.

Not that Cid would be that upset by it. He felt that it would ruin the singer's mysterious image, to be dating someone. Not to mention that the girl would probably be hated by the many fans who wanted to date him themselves. But that was not his problem. He just wanted to live his life as he saw fit.

What he wished he could figure out was, How did he want to live his life? He had been taking things as they came, just accepting them blindly, and yet something had made him act on the realization that he did not want a significant other. It seemed a large step somehow, but he did not know what would follow.

Strange, that he was actually lonely, in spite of deliberately pushing people away from him all the time. After all, he thought to himself in amusement, why not just let them come, if he wanted company? Maybe they were not the kind of company he wanted. But maybe he would never find that kind of company, either. People did not get along well with him. Though he knew that he did not get along well with other people, either. They seemed to have a mutual misunderstanding. And so he had always been a loner.

"Hey! Is this thing locked again?"

He sighed, half-smirking to himself. It was the knock he had expected. "Yes," he said flatly in his soft voice. "It's locked because I wanted some peace and quiet." Especially after hearing, and taking part in, something as loud and noisy as the heavy metal concert. His ears were still ringing.

A curse from the other side of the object. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened tonight!" Cid's accented voice insisted. He was probably leaning on the door, wanting to see if he could just break it down. One time he actually had done that, but he had been a lot angrier then. And his protégé had let him know that such behavior would not be accepted.

The singer sighed again, suddenly feeling even more weary. "Then talk through the door," he answered.

"Everyone'll hear," Cid objected.

"When have you cared?"

A dry chuckle. "You got that right, I don't. Alright, fine, Yazoo, I'll talk through the door." A pause. "Look, you coulda worn your voice out by singing that long! You know what your doctor's said. . . ."

"It's just a guideline to follow. I'm perfectly healthy." Yazoo did not move from his spot on the couch, nor did he intend to. "I'd say it makes up for how little I use my voice otherwise. There shouldn't be a problem."

Silence. "Are you being sarcastic again?" Cid grumbled.

"Of course." Yazoo rolled onto his side, facing the largely empty room.

"You just don't care, do you."

"Not really, no."

A loud, exasperated sigh, followed by another curse. "What am I gonna do with you?" Cid cried then. "You don't care about anything! You even broke it off with the girl! What was her name---Shana?"

"Sharon."

"Yeah, her. Not that I thought it'd be good for your image, datin' and all, but why'd you do it, Yazoo?"

"You know why."

"Yeah, you don't care about her or about romance! Add 'em to the list! Do you even care about being a singer? Or your fans? Why'd you do the long concert?" He could hear Cid placing his hand on the wood of the door as he leaned forward. "Was it really for them? It's not like anyone was expecting it of you!"

"I know." Yazoo actually wondered himself why he had done it. At the time, it had just seemed the proper thing to do. And so he had done it, almost mechanically. Yes, that was a good word for it. He supposed he felt like he was going through life on auto-pilot. He was not happy. And he supposed that was largely his own fault. Sometimes it just all seemed so pointless. He felt as though he did not belong at all, but there was nowhere else for him to go. He could only live the life that had been set in front of him.

"That's all the answer I'm gonna get out of you, isn't it." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes, I'd say so."

Cid muttered. "Well, get some sleep or somethin'," he said, starting to turn away from the door.

Yazoo did not answer. He reached up, bringing the fancy couch pillow closer to him. He should get up and get ready to go back to the hotel, but he did not have the strength to even move. It was not a physical exhaustion, he supposed, but more mental. It had all caught up with him tonight. They had to leave in the morning, to travel to the next city that was part of the concert tour. Right now, he just wished it was over and done.

Sighing softly, he let his eyelids sink closed. He was only going to rest them for a minute. But instead he ended up slipping into a blank and restless sleep.

She was kneeling, her back to him. Her hands were clasped, and she was obviously in the act of praying. She did not seem to know that he was there, above her, watching her every move. But that was all the better for him, and too bad for her. It was all over now. She would not have the chance to complete her supplication.

He jumped, his sword held high over his head as he dropped down directly in back of her. It easily cut through the ribbon around her hair, and the cloth fell free as he harshly jabbed his long weapon into her helpless body. He heard a choked gasp break free from her lips as he pulled the blade out again.

His eyes flew open with a start, bringing him back into reality. His head was down, and he could feel a strange, bumpy sensation against his cheek. Next to him, he could hear the familiar hum of his computer, which had automatically gone on Stand By. His left hand, to the side of the keyboard, was still on the mouse. He could see it through the silver strands of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

Slowly he pulled himself into a sitting position. There was no girl here, no atrocious and cruel murder being committed. He had fallen asleep at his desk, that was all. He remembered now. He had taken off his suit jacket---draping it over the back of the soft chair---then had loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt sleeves, pushing them halfway up his forearms, before settling down to take care of the rest of the day's work. And he must have become so exhausted from a workday that had already been too long, that he had simply dozed.

He ran a shaking hand through his long bangs. The computer was coming back to life, after sensing that the keys on the keyboard had been released. And he had probably touched the mouse again while taking his hand away from it. He watched, feeling blank, as the screen changed color and asked for his login prompt. Nevermind that for now.

He pushed himself up from the chair, crossing the room to the attached bathroom and turning the knob. He stepped inside, flicking on the light as he went to the sink and turned the cold water tap. Cupping his hands under the thin stream, he watched and waited until they were filled, then leaned down and splashed the icy liquid over his face. That should wake him up, if nothing else.

He turned the tap off again, straightening up as he reached for a towel. Pathetic, he thought to himself as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He actually looked pale. And over nothing more than a dream, too. No matter how realistic it seemed, it was just that---only a dream. He knew what he had been doing all his life, and it did not include jumping from tremendous heights to impale young women.

He ran the towel roughly over his face before tossing it back on the counter and walking out of the bathroom.

As he came back to his desk, he cast a cursory glance at the couch where his assistant had been working. Cloud was still there, but his mind was not. He had fallen asleep himself at some point, kicking off his shoes before stretching the length of the couch. One arm hung over the side of the furniture, his hand very nearly hitting the floor. But he did not care, and continued to sleep. He looked peaceful enough. Cloud never let much bother him. He was levelheaded and practical, which was why Sephiroth had found him to be capable for the job.

The silver-haired man sank down into his chair again, quickly typing the password that unlocked his computer's settings and desktop. Nevermind foolish nightmares now. He had to finish the work he had started before his untimely nap. And then the both of them should go home, unless they were going to stay in the office to sleep.

Cloud did not look as though he would wake up anytime soon, at any rate. Well, that was fine for him, if he was having a normal slumber devoid of strange dreams. But right now, even if Sephiroth thought he could sleep, he did not want to.

It was not long before the rain was coming down in furious sheets, drumming against the roofs, windows, and doors of buildings, homes, and cars. Most sensible people were rushing to get to shelter, and that was exactly what Kadaj wanted to do now. The rain was still filling him with an immense and illogical panic, and he ran under the nearest awning to get away from it. Still it pelted around him, and he pressed himself against the wall of the crumbling building, his heart racing. Why would it not go away? Why did it insist on staying? Was it mocking him?

"Are you okay?"

He looked up with a start, seeing the concerned Alexander creature peering in at him. His eyes were wide again, and concerned, and Kadaj suddenly felt foolish.

"Of course," he answered coolly. "I just don't like to get wet." That was true, and hopefully would not make him sound ridiculous. He pushed himself away from the brick wall. "So, do you know a place where we could go now?"

Alexander tilted his head to the side. "Well, there's a diner a few blocks away," he said slowly, walking under the awning as well. "I could fly us there, or if you want, we could teleport. . . ."

"Teleport?" Kadaj repeated, the incredulity slipping into his voice.

Alexander nodded enthusiastically. "I can't do it much, and I can't go very far, but we could go somewhere!" he chirped. "I kinda don't want to get wet either. It takes my wings a long time to dry out." He glanced over at the feathered one, which already looked a bit damp. Quickly he brought it closer around himself. There was not that much protection to be had from this makeshift umbrella above them. It had already gone through more than its share of rain storms.

Kadaj did not want to take much time to think it through. After all, in his current situation, he did not have many choices. And anyway, this thing had proven capable and trustworthy. "Fine," he agreed. "Let's go. It looks like it's only going to get worse." He stepped closer to the other being. Hopefully his apprehension would not be that obvious. The rain should not bother him so much. But the doppelganger seemed oblivious.

"Okay!" Alexander exclaimed, and placed his hands on the silver-haired young man's shoulders.

It was strange, how suddenly it happened. Everything simply vanished---the building, the awning, the rain---and was instantly replaced by warmth, light, and dry walls around them. Kadaj looked up with a start, taking in the diner's features. It had an odd, almost cozy or nostalgic feeling to it, as an old song played on the jukebox in the back. The floor was covered with red and white tiles, and there were framed photos on the wall, advertising Coca Cola as well as movies and stars from the past. Ceiling fans turned calmly overhead, keeping the air circulating. It seemed quite tranquil.

Kadaj had never been in such a place. Curiously he walked forward, touching the tables and chairs as he made his way around them to a booth near the back. It was just dawning on him now that he was hungry, and he wondered if this creature would buy something for them both. He did not have any money, and if he did, he imagined it would be in Gaia's currency. Somehow, he was certain that this was not Gaia.

He slid into the booth. From here he had a perfect view of the entire place. He would be able to observe everything that happened without seeming conspicuous. Then again, how conspicuous was it to suddenly pop in with a winged being at his side? He stole a glance at the few other customers. None of them looked as though they had even noticed. Maybe they had not, or maybe this Alexander came here often and they were used to him.

Alexander hopped in on the other side. "A waitress will come soon," he said cheerfully, and picked up the menu laid down on the table. "What would you like to eat?"

Kadaj shrugged. "It's a cold night. Maybe some hot chocolate . . . and a donut," he mused. Would they have such food here? If not, they were certainly missing something. One of the few specific memories he had was of him and his brothers Yazoo and Loz sitting in a café with such food as they made their plans to find "Mother." Kadaj and Yazoo had been suspicious of the new edibles, but Loz had insisted that the donuts were delicious. Finally the other two had tried them as well, coming to the same conclusion.

Alexander looked happy at the thought, rather than confused. "That sounds good!" he declared.

Kadaj looked him over again, thoughtfully. Would such a being have money to buy anything? Maybe Alexander was expecting that Kadaj would have the funds. The redhead did not look as though he would have a job, though of course appearances could be deceiving.

"Do you come here often?" the green-eyed young man queried casually.

Alexander nodded. "Usually it's when I'm waiting for Dartz to get done working," he replied. He quickly looked at the booth behind him, apparently checking to make sure no one was in it, and then spread his wings over the top of the plush material with a flourish. Kadaj had to admit he was somewhat amused by this, as well as mystified.

"Don't those fold up?" he asked, pointing at the extra appendages.

"Well, they can," Alexander said with reluctance, "but I like to keep them out. I just feel so cramped if I don't." He set the menu down, curiously looking out at the other booths and tables. Maybe he was looking for the elusive waitress.

Kadaj found he did not care that much. But he did want to learn more about this city. "Who's Dartz?" he said idly.

Alexander smiled again. "He's like my father!" he exclaimed. "He helped me when my wing was really hurt." He indicated the angel wing to his right, and under the bright lights it was clear that it was irreparably deformed and scarred. Kadaj could imagine how much that must have hurt. "He let me stay with him while I got better," the doppelganger continued, "and then I just kept staying! He said I can be here as long as I want. So I have a family now." He blinked, studying his new acquaintance. "Do you have a family?" he asked innocently.

Kadaj gave a quick and curt nod. "I have two older brothers, and Mother," he proclaimed with a soft smile.

"Oh, so you can go home to them," Alexander deduced. He blinked in confusion when Kadaj shook his head.

"No, I can't," he replied. "I don't know where my brothers are right now. And Mother . . . I don't ever have her to go home to. She's all around me, all around everyone." Amid his fragmented memories, he was confusing Jenova and Aerith as "Mother"---which was understandable, since for so long he had thought of Jenova as his mother and had only been with Aerith after his death. Now, he was deciding, it seemed clear to him why he had ended up in this strange place. It was so obvious, that he could not believe he had not thought of it earlier. But then again, it was not easy to think of things logically when running from rain and nearly being hit by cars.

The creature tilted his head to the side. "She's dead?" he wondered worriedly, biting his lip.

"Oh no, she's very much alive. She's always helping me to strive towards my mission in life." He crossed his arms on the table. How long was it going to take a waitress to come? Business seemed slow, so it should not be taking this much time. If this was the way it always was, then Alexander must be more patient than Kadaj.

The other was fascinated. "What's your mission?" he asked, the confusion over "Mother" all being forgotten. "I know I used to think my mission was to kill Alister. . . ." He traced a pattern on the table with a finger. "But then I realized he didn't want to die, so now my mission is to protect him and keep him with his friends!" He smiled triumphantly.

Kadaj was not a great deal interested in his acquaintance's words. After all, Alexander's mission did not have any connection with Kadaj's. Though, he decided, it was good to know more about whose company he was in, and the kind of people with whom his company associated. So, for that reason, he should probably pay attention. At the same time, however, he saw nothing wrong with revealing his own goals.

"I have to help Mother create a new world," he answered, smirking in a pleased way. "She's unhappy with the worlds that exist, where people suffer so much of the time. She wants to create the Promised Land, a paradise, where everyone is happy."

The redhead looked at him, awe spread across his features. "That's a nice idea!" he exclaimed. "I don't like how people are so mean here. . . ." But then he frowned worriedly, biting his lip. "Dartz tried to make a new world once," he said slowly, not sure how this would be received by his companion. "He wanted there to be a paradise too. But he was using this thing called the Orichalcos, and it started controlling him, and then he started taking people's souls away, and he just ended up hurting people instead of being able to make a paradise. . . ."

"I wouldn't be using something like that," was the undaunted reply. "The last time I tried, I used children who had been affected by the geostigma. They had become my brethren, because of it." As he spoke, the words seemed to come to him, unbidden, and once he said them, he knew they were true. These things had happened to him! Mother was helping him remember, because she was why he had been sent here! It all made sense now.

The childlike being pondered over this. "Geostigma," he repeated slowly. "It sounds like it would hurt. . . ."

"Because of the planet not liking Mother's plan," the green-eyed young man interrupted.

"Oh. . . ." Alexander did not understand that, but instead of asking, he moved on to the next question he had. "What about the kids' families?" he asked. "Wouldn't they be upset, and be missing them? Maybe they wouldn't want their kids to be used like that by your mother. . . ."

"They were upset," confirmed the other. "But they didn't understand what an honor it was for their children to be chosen. If they'd really understood, they would have been happy to think that their flesh and blood was going to have a part in creating the new world."

The blue-eyed creature thought about this. It made a certain sense, he supposed, but something still bothered him about the plan. "What happened?" he asked.

"The planet struck back again." The silver-haired young man glared at the table, as if pouting. He did not like the memories he was getting back now. They were unpleasant. "And I . . . well, Sephiroth, fought Cloud, and lost. I was mortally wounded in the attempt." Subconsciously a hand drifted to his side as the remembrance of that pain swirled over him. The multiple sword wounds had hurt so much, but more than that, he had ached over failing Mother.

"You mean both you and Sephiroth fought Cloud?" the other asked, trying to understand. "And if you were mortally wounded, doesn't that mean you died?" He stared at his acquaintance, his eyes wide and round. This teenager did not seem dead; he seemed very much alive---and anyway, how could a dead person drink hot chocolate and eat donuts?

"I'm Sephiroth's vessel," was the response, and a look of indignation and disgust---mixed with sadness---passed over his youthful features. Yes, Sephiroth. That was the name of the one whom he despised. Sephiroth had always had what Kadaj had longed for and had never achieved. "Mother loves him best. She doesn't think I can help her all on my own." He paused, digesting the second question. "And yes, I did die," he confirmed. "But I was restored to life again, on this new planet, so Mother must want this planet too."

Alexander's wings drooped, and he sadly studied his friend---for he wanted to call the other his friend. "It seems like a mother should love all her kids the same," he said. He did not like to speak against someone so highly idolized by the green-eyed young man, but he could see how upset the other felt, even if it would be emphatically denied.

"It doesn't matter," he answered now, and the redhead had really half-expected it. "The only thing that's important is what Mother wants. If I only exist to be her and Sephiroth's puppet, then so be it."

"I think it does matter!" cried the blue-eyed creature earnestly, leaning over the table. "I don't think that's really what you want at all! I think you're only doing it because you want your mother's love so badly! You're hoping that she'll be happy if you do what she wants, and then she'll love you best. . . ." He looked into the startled emerald eyes, pleading for his words to sink in.

It took a moment for the other to fully grasp what he was being told. But then his eyes flashed in outrage. "That's not true!" he yelled. "Don't talk about Mother like that! You don't know her!" He glowered, turning away from his companion to look into the aisle of the diner. "I don't like you anymore." What right did this doppelganger have, to pass judgement on matters he knew nothing about? It was not his business. Certainly Mother was not his business!

The redhead's wings drooped further. He could not stand it when people were angry at him, and it was even more difficult to bear if he knew he had hurt them. Kadaj was obviously hurt. But since he had not left the booth, Alexander took courage. Slowly he moved to the other side of the seat, behind the other, and hugged him. "I still like you!" he exclaimed, feeling his friend start from shock. He laid his head against the leather-clad shoulder blades. "I still like you, and I want you to be happy. That's all. . . . I'm sorry I hurt you. . . ."

The silver-haired teenager was still silent, having frozen from the creature's innocent touch. He was still angry about the other's words, but he was also puzzled. Why did this winged being seem to like him? He had not done anything to deserve it.

"I'd like us to be friends. . . ."

Now Kadaj gave a short laugh and a shrug. He had not expected that, either. "I don't have friends."

The blue-eyed young man was undaunted. "Well, then, you can start now!" he said in his childlike way.

The wingless boy turned slightly, looking over his shoulder. This doppelganger certainly was persistant. "Why?" he asked with a frown.

Alexander looked back earnestly. "Because I think you're a nice person," he declared. "And . . . I think you're like me!" He paused, his gaze darting around the room as he contemplated how best to explain himself. But then he met Kadaj's questioning eyes again, and the creature seemed to have arrived at a conclusion. "You want to make the people you love happy, and you want to be loved."

Kadaj thought this over. It was true, he supposed. And it was odd---being around this doppelganger was starting to remind him of being with Loz. Alexander did not seem to be a crier, but he had the same childlike naivete and trust. Kadaj missed his brothers, very deeply. They had never been apart from each other for long periods of time, and they had almost always known where they all were located. When they had not, they had been able to use their cellphones to contact each other. But right now Kadaj was all alone. He had no idea where Yazoo and Loz were, and though he would not admit it, it worried him.

"Alright," he said at last. "We can be friends." He wondered if he would regret this. But the deed was done now, and he would not take back his words.

Alexander looked ecstatic. "You can meet Dartz, and you can stay at our house tonight!" he exclaimed, pulling away to sit normally again. "And in the morning, I'll help you look for your brothers!"

Kadaj was about to reply when a new voice broke into the conversation.

"Hi, and welcome to The Jitterbug Café . . . whoa!"

He started, looking up at the perky, yet suddenly panicked, female tones. The gangly waitress was coming toward them, and on roller skates, no less. She was wearing a blue, stiff skirt with a poodle design on it, as well as a white blouse, and her cropped black hair flew into her eyes as she tried desperately to stay upright. Throwing her arms out as leverage, she tipped first one way, then the other. Kadaj might have laughed, had she not been heading straight for their table.

The collision was unavoidable. As the clumsy girl crashed into the table, the entire thing rocked and slid. The centerpiece flew into the air, very narrowly missing Kadaj as he ducked out of the way. Alexander gave a startled yelp, and in a moment, several large, white feathers floated into view. Kadaj dared to look up, still shielding his head in case of another identified flying object. The girl was now sitting on Alexander's lap, and both looked dazed.

Now the silver-haired teen did laugh. The whole thing was so ridiculous, so preposterous, and frankly, so amusing. "I hope all of the girls here aren't as klutzy as you," he snickered, "but I guess they couldn't be, or this place wouldn't still be standing."

"Hey! Ohhh!" The girl leaped up, instantly over her dizziness. She clenched her fists at her sides, her dark eyes flashing in outrage. "You'd better watch what you say to me! I'm stronger than I look! I could take you down just like that!" She snapped her fingers, and then suddenly gasped, her eyes widening. Kadaj stared at her, bewildered. He saw recognition in her eyes. But he did not know her.

"It's you!" she squealed in horror, pointing a furious finger at him. "You're that insect who turned into Sephiroth and fought Cloud! But how can you be here? You're dead!" Her eyes became even more round, which Kadaj had not thought would be possible. "Are you a ghost?"

Kadaj continued to look at her. She was an annoying, excitable girl, but he wanted to know how she knew what she did. Obviously she was someone from home. And because of that, he would not brush her off, as he would do otherwise. "First, answer a question for me. Are you one of Cloud's friends?" he asked.

She glowered. "I don't have to tell anything to you!" she snapped. "But I wanna know why we're here at all!"

He leaned back in the booth. "Then right now, we have the same goal," he said smoothly.

"Can't we all just get along?" Alexander spoke up now. He reached for the centerpiece, quickly setting it back on the table before brushing away the large, loose feathers. They scattered to the floor like oblong snowflakes.

The girl whirled to look at him, as if noticing him for the first time. "Where did you get those wings?" she gasped. "And hey, I'm the one who'll havta clean up those big feathers, you know!" She discovered a moment too late that she had turned too fast.

Kadaj sighed as he watched her legs fly out from under her, bringing her lanky form down hard on the floor in a sitting position. "That's really getting old," he remarked, propping himself up on an elbow. This was the strangest evening he had experienced in quite some time. It was not especially pleasing, either.