Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VI.

A/N: I'm so happy I already have two reviews! And in one day! Thanks so much for liking my story :) Well, here it goes with the next one! Hope you like!

Come Home to Papa

Prompt #2

Data Base

Terra closed her eyes against the blinking lights in front of her, the shining metal and steel and burning bronze surrounding her. Her fingers twitched from wrists held down onto the arms of an iron chair, her ankles strapped down as well – she'd gotten out of the neck strap that time, though, and for that she was thankful.

Fire, she thought, forming the word in her mind until it was nearly as tangible as a boulder on her foot. Fire. Fire. Fire.

But nothing was happening. All she needed was one small flame, an ember to dance in front of her, just to prove to these people – researchers, they were called, when they were really information gluttons – that what she could do was real. So they could enter it into their data base, whatever that meant.

This was the third time they'd tried. With no results.

There was a large mirror running the length of the right wall, but she knew well enough that it was a one-sided window. There they stood, watching the sweat form on her brow, her teeth clench behind her lips.

A bell chimed to signal the intercom, and a voice came through. "Miss Branford, you'll have to try harder than that," one of the gluttons informed her.

Really? she thought sarcastically, glaring at the ground as if it was their face.

Behind the glass, Kefka leaned back in a chair, until it nearly fell back, his fingers strumming the arms. "That won't work, you know," he said matter-of-factly.

The male researcher spun around, surprised to see him there. "General," he greeted in a sigh, sending him a lazy salute. "What do you mean, sir?"

Kefka turned his head to look the man up and down, and laughed.

"Something funny, sir?" the man asked.

Kefka ignored him. "I mean nothing will happen if she tries for it," he said, slowly spinning the chair.

The female researcher in the room set down her clipboard and crossed her arm. "Then what would you rather we say to her?" she asked, her tone defiant.

Kefka stopped spinning and faced her, his bright eyes focused and hard. The woman swallowed.

Finally, Kefka stood, the male researcher stepping back to allow him room. "Let me handle this," he told them. "Open the door."

Terra blinked her eyes open when she heard the door's lock click open. Kefka looked different; his normal coffee-colored clothes had been traded for a costume of bright colors, checkers, and stripes. He looked like some sort of clown, but at least his face was the same as she remembered. Sun-tanned skin, icy blue eyes, and blonde hair that fell in soft waves around his face.

"It's you," she breathed out in relief as he approached her. Although his presence relaxed her, her fingers still twitched, her foot still tapped against the floor, her heart still raced. And from the unfamiliar, hard look in his eyes, it only raced faster.

"Terra." Her name was an exhausted sigh tripping off his lips. He kneeled down in front of her chair so he was at eye level with her. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything," she answered automatically.

He flashed her a smile, the soft one that she used to be such good friends with, and then it was gone. He covered her hand with his, gently holding her fingers down. "Breathe," he told her, and she did. "Close your eyes, and relax."

She closed her eyes, but relaxing was a much easier task in her stream, not in this man-made prison cell.

"Let your heart slow down," he said, his voice lulling and monotone, two fingers touching the vein at her wrist to monitor her pulse. "There's no pressure, darling. Just calm down, and think warm thoughts."

Her heart jumped before it slowed. How could she not think warm thoughts when he was calling her darling?

There it was, her pulse was finally slowing down. Kefka didn't let the smile come forward, not yet. "Warm thoughts," he reminded her gently.

"Warm," she repeated. His hand was warm on hers. Like a little fire…

She heard the rush and crackle of air and opened her eyes to a tiny, flickering flame in the middle of the room. Kefka stood and moved aside, focusing on it. He gave her hand a tiny squeeze. "Good work, my darling."

And then he left, and the lock clicked shut.

"She's not cooperating again," the female researcher groaned.

"She's trying too hard," the male researcher concurred. The esper girl was struggling again, this time with water. A cup full of water was placed before her, with an empty cup next to it, and she was to transfer the water from cup to cup. So far, all she'd created were ripples.

"How are we supposed to calm her down without the General?" he questioned, rubbing his chin. The General made things look so easy – he just said a few words to the girl and suddenly she was summoning all kinds of elements. Now, without him, she couldn't handle water? Interesting would be the word for it if he wasn't so irritated.

The woman pressed the intercom button. "Miss Branford, we need you to calm down."

"I'm trying!" she yelled back, balling her hands into fists.

"Ma'am, you're actually only making it harder –"

"Let her." Kefka's voice rang strong in the small room. His footsteps bounced off the walls, and the woman moved aside for him; he pressed his palms down on the control panel and leaned forward to stare at Terra.

"What, sir?" the man asked incredulously.

"Let her!" Kefka repeated. "I want to see this."

"See what, sir?"

Kefka shushed him loudly and pressed the intercom button. "Losing it, darling?" he asked the esper girl.

Her eyes flew open, and for just a moment it seemed that she relaxed. "Kefka? That's you?"

"You can't control it, can you?" he said, almost accusingly.

"General!" the female protested.

Kefka waved her away. "Remember the stream? The water took control of you, not the other way around."

"Stop…" Terra said weakly, staring at the ground.

"Let it! Let them take control! Give yourself a rest and let them live for you –"

"Stop it!" Terra yelled.

"Let go!" Kefka roared. "Lose yourself in the power!"

Terra screamed, gripping the arms of the chair and throwing her head back, as if in agony.

The male researcher pulled Kefka away from the intercom and grabbed his arms. "What are you doing, General?" he demanded. "This isn't what we're meant to do!"

Kefka grabbed the man's arms tightly, making him let go. "Your job is to put recordings into the data base, so record!" He pushed the man away and turned back to Terra. "Trust me, you'll want to see this."

Terra's screams had gone from shrill to sharp, piercing, like a banshee. Her pale skin was shifting, turning darker and darker until it reached an almost purple shade, her eyes growing larger, her pupils dilating, her fingers becoming claws…

"What's happening to her?" the woman asked, her lips drawn back in disgust.

Kefka only watched in fascination. "This," he said, "is an esper."

With a tiny bit of pressure, he pressed the record button.