Happy New Year everyone!

This hopefully will prove to anyone that I'm not dropping this story, although as of late it's taking me forever to get these chapters out. This one was a problem because of "filler". That's a bit of a misnomer because filler is never really filler; I use it to try and develop the situation between characters before hitting a big event. The question is what situation do I put them in and how I keep myself from writing into a corner (like I did on the first draft of the Aleron Saga).

A word of warning for the squeamish. The last part of this story is a bit grisly even for me. I'm a little surprised I wrote it. Read at your own discretion.

One Month Later

Cloud heaved as he felt his arms throb from the recoil. His sword continued to shudder in his grasp as sweat poured down his brow and into his eyes. Despite the snow-covered ground, he had stripped down to a sleeveless shirt and was still exhausted. His blue eyes blazed with determination, but also distinct panic that came from stress and trying to think quickly. After pausing for a moment, he finally took off for his opponent again.

The two swords locked as Cloud unleashed another technique on his foe. Normally this would have left him stunned and defenseless…but this enemy was new. He intercepted it with his blade and advanced, halting it before Cloud could even put its full power into it. Soon, the ex-mercenary was backing off as he came forward, bringing his sword down fast and hard on him again and again. Each blow shook Cloud's body and made his legs quiver. It sapped more of his strength, and he couldn't deflect it.

At last, he tried to stop him by locking swords. But his enemy was too strong for him…and giving a mighty twist and snap his enemy flung his sword to the side and far away from him. Cloud's wrists were wrenched painfully, and he was powerless to keep it from happening. Event Horizon crashed into the snow a moment later and halted…and Cloud was left standing defenseless in front of his opponent.

Cloud swallowed as a bead of sweat ran down his brow. Luckily, his enemy hesitated for the briefest moment before advancing and attempting to bring on the kill. At this, the ex-mercenary cried out and dove to the side as fast as he could. He still felt the end of the sharp blade take off a small sliver of his boots as he went away. However, the propulsion did serve to send him flying to the side, and right for his weapon. A moment later, he crashed down next to it, and slid a few more feet until he was right at its side. Immediately, he reached out and seized the hilt…

But he didn't pull it up. His determination vanished as his eyes widened, and he didn't move a muscle. The end of a sword was already at his throat. His enemy had recovered from his own finishing chop with lightning speed, and now had him at his mercy. Cloud swallowed, and looked up to his enemy.

In response, his opponent smiled back at him before pulling the sword away.

"…I think that makes us even on victories, Cloud."

Cloud continued to look strained and nervous a moment. But then, he let out a small chuckle, and some of it melted away. His face became more casual and calm, and then he slowly resumed pulling up his sword and beginning to get to his feet. As he did, he watched as his opponent replaced his own blade of fire behind him, marveling the whole time.

Ragnar hadn't even broken a sweat. He wasn't shaking or looking strained in the least. He never did anymore…not since he had spontaneously recovered in some freakish phenomenon and unveiled that he was even stronger and faster than before. Before Cloud had been Ragnar's slight better in terms of power and speed. Now…the ease at which Ragnar defeated him in every single sparring match hands down was freaky…and a bit startling. That look of fear hadn't been simply from being caught off guard. It was at the shock at which Ragnar had recovered and been on him again. It was as if Ragnar was suddenly on a whole different level from his…and Cloud only knew one other opponent who had that distinction… Understandably, therefore, this made him very uneasy…especially since he had no idea how the hell it had happened…

Cloud remembered little of what had happened that night. The images of everything were still running through his mind when his memory suddenly seemed obliterated. He remembered getting up and walking home that night, but he didn't remember why he had gotten up and gone home or why. The first thing he distinctly remembered was the next morning, waking up in his bed. A phone call woke him up, in which a very disbelieving private relayed the message that General Ragnar had relieved him of command, and appeared to be perfectly healthy. Cloud had ran out of the house and down to the hospital, only to find it looking like it had been bombed. Eyewitnesses reported strange phenomenon that had occurred that night…but the last person to leave the building after it had been damaged was General Ragnar, without so much as a scar on him.

Cloud found the kid sitting in his chair in his office, greeting him rather calmly and with a smile. Almost immediately…Cloud had been ill at ease, and ever since that day had never quite been relaxed again. It many ways it looked like Ragnar…but the eyes were different. They looked older and calmer…having lost much of the energy and spirit that Cloud had once seen in them. It almost didn't look like him… It seemed almost like someone possessed.

Ragnar continued to reveal his surprises soon after that event. He suddenly seemed to be capable of remembering far more information and processing it far more quickly and efficiently. Tasks he had delegated to other officers for the stress they once gave him were taken up again, and he seemed to do them far faster than they as a group were capable of. He never tired anymore…even if he pulled two all nighters in a row. And yet despite that, he seemed to eat and drink even less than before. He ran everywhere and hadn't yawned once since he had come back. Most of all…in sparring matches, he never tired or weakened anymore. It was as if his energy and intelligence had both increased unbelievably.

None of Ragnar's friends, Cloud least of all, were fools. It was obvious that something had happened in the phenomenon that night. Something had changed Ragnar…if not replaced him, Cloud feared. Cloud might have thought he was an imposter now if there wasn't something innate within him that still reminded him of the kid he drug in one night out of the rain. Yet Ragnar seemed oblivious to anything happening to him, claiming he couldn't remember what had happened that night…that he had just awoken brimming with power, similar to how he had been when Aerith found him (she had given her own version of the story, of course). Cloud didn't really believe him…but couldn't explain it either.

He only had one theory. If this was him…then perhaps his "master" had popped by again…

As soon as Cloud was on his feet he let out a large exhale, and then began to move Event Horizon behind him to put it in his sheath.

"So, again?" Ragnar asked with a grin, interrupting him. "Should we put it over the top today?"

Cloud suppressed a groan…and a look of disbelief. Since he had come back…Cloud had failed to win a single match against him. And as unbelievable as it seemed, his own incredible stamina was nothing compared to Ragnar's newfound energy. Once Ragnar was healthy again, Cloud had thought of training him up so that he'd be a better match for Sephiroth next time. As it turned out…the only one who had really been getting stronger was himself, and that was from struggling to keep up with the kid. Cloud would be lying if he thought that didn't make him a bit jealous… After all, his inferiority complex had never quite been completely destroyed. And seeing this younger guy without a single Jenova cell or mako treatment do so much better…

"Haven't you got work to do?" Cloud asked as he huffed and put his sword away.

"Hey, come on, Cloud." Ragnar needled, moving in closer and playfully jabbing at him. "You can't be tired already. Besides, we need the workout if we're going to be fighting Sephiroth in the future."

That was another thing. Ragnar was suddenly assuming "Cloud's" part in the conflict with Sephiroth. The ex-mercenary suppressed a frown on hearing this. Sephiroth was his enemy…and yet now Ragnar seemed to be treating him not only as his responsibility, but Cloud as the "unexperienced minor" who was just along for the ride. Cloud tried to keep himself from thinking too ill of this as he wiped his brow and gave a dark look to the youth.

It was bright outside today. It was still the dead of winter, and snow was all over the ground even in Midgar, reflecting the light back in their faces. It was rather cold outside, but Cloud hardly noticed. He was too hot and sweaty himself. The two men were back out at the abandoned basketball court they used as a training ground. They were still well into the Planet Protector Army sector of the city, and so seeing soldiers and officers pass was a common occurrence. Occasionally, despite how cold it was, some platoons would slow or stop to watch the two gladiators battle. Both of them were far above the level of any other soldier in the force. The snow was piled up around Cloud and Ragnar's feet at the moment. They could have cleared off the sparring field, but they had ended up electing to keep it for the rough terrain and cushioning for falling.

"…I got other people to whip into shape." Cloud finally lied. Well…a partial lie. It did cover up his own exhaustion somewhat, but it was true that his own swordsmen were not nearly as skilled as he would have liked. And despite how much Ragnar and Sephiroth filled his mind as of late…there were other great concerns too.

Ragnar crossed his own arms and snickered. "Whatever." He said as he looked down to his own watch. "I think you're just not wanting to see me-" However, on seeing the time, Ragnar's face blanched. His new cocky side vanished, and at last nervous sweat began to form on his brow as his old busybody self came out.

"Oh…crud." He remarked as he looked at his watch. "It's already half past… I was supposed to be heading out to my other lesson at eleven. Damnit…I'm going to have to cut that session short again!"

Cloud couldn't help but crack a grin at seeing Ragnar a bit unnerved. It faded quickly, which was a good thing as it was, because Ragnar looked back up to his face a moment later. He swallowed, and then quickly turned to run for it.

"Sorry Cloud…I'll have to cut this off now… See you this evening!"

With that, Ragnar turned and ran as fast as he could away from the ex-mercenary. Even now, Cloud felt amazed as he watched him go. Ragnar was fast before…but now the snow literally flew up behind him as he took off at a pace that would put a world-class sprinter to shame. Within a second he was already off the field and in the street, and then tearing around a building corner and vanishing from view. Cloud knew full well that Ragnar would keep this pace up all the way there. It was amazing that he could maintain it to him. Any faster and he might actually beat back the minutes, it seemed…

However, Cloud smiled again as he saw him go and snickered a bit. He knew there was another reason for Ragnar's sudden speed, and this reassured him that it was the same old Ragnar. One thing was unchanged…Ragnar's face got that pale look of nervousness on it whenever it dealt with her…

Truth be told…I think this was actually a good idea of his.

The truth was that Ragnar did know.

He hadn't forgotten about that.

That wasn't to say he hadn't forgotten some things, and might have been powerless to remember them if he didn't have a whole different set of memories running through his brain reminding him of what and who he was. Ragnar might not even have noticed had he not remembered Bahamut telling him right before the junction that he might lose his memory. Soon after, he found he was right. He couldn't remember anything of his life before he got punched in the nose by the local bully Travis that one day after school…and he was twelve when that happened. However, he still remembered everything that Bahamut had told him, because those had been far more recent.

He had pled ignorance with Cloud, Aerith, and everyone else simply because it was easier that way. What was he supposed to explain to them? It would all sound unbelievable. He wouldn't believe it himself if he hadn't seen it. Also…he found himself not necessarily wanting to blab out the secret about his heritage yet. Proclaiming oneself to be a Cetra wasn't exactly a good way to keep yourself in good standing in this sort of world… And despite his enjoyment of the fact…the truth was he was an experiment. He wished he could have forgotten about that aspect.

As a matter of fact, memory loss wasn't that much of a problem for Ragnar. Memory gain was. Like Bahamut had said, he received a sudden influx of experience and knowledge so powerful that Ragnar was nearly apoplectic. He had no idea where to shove this material in his brain. Though he traditionally put on a happy face now…and he did have much to hope for…the truth was a lot of times he was confused and disorientated. He had managed to sort most of it out now, but he still had some problems adjusting.

One, he realized somewhat ruefully as he dashed over the streets of Midgar like a graceful gazelle, was that he had become cocky. The part of his brain that was Bahamut looked at him with disdain because of that. He realized he had again seemed too condescending to Cloud in that fight… This wasn't the first time. But it was hard for a human to adjust to the power he had suddenly received. Ragnar felt like a superhero now. The strongest amount of exertion he put forth in his old exercises were now a breeze to him. He felt so strong and light that he thought he could leap an entire city block without trying. He bet he could lift a car over his head. Suddenly receiving such power was enough to knock anyone's reserved confidence for a loop.

Ragnar might have felt mighty enough to take Sephiroth on right now had Bahamut's half not kept his pride in check. He reminded him that, strong as he was, he was still far inferior to the man's full strength. And he couldn't count on the "last resorts" to be able to make up the difference in energy. He had to train himself to be even stronger.

But that was nearly impossible. Ragnar could do laps around the entire city of Ragnar without breaking a sweat. He could lift steel girders like barbells without feeling any strain. He could easily take Cloud, the only swordsman who might be nearly a match for him, without trouble. He had to struggle not to go easy on Cloud. About the only way that he could get a challenge out of him is if he could get Cloud to perform his Omnislash technique on him, and see if he could deflect it. But even Sephiroth had been unable to counter that… Cloud refused to accept the risk of seriously hurting…if not killing…Ragnar in the process of doing this move. And the youth himself hated to think of what would happen if he didn't block it…

Of course, there was more to worry about than this. Beating Sephiroth would mean little if he couldn't stop the New Shinra as well. Much as he devoted his time to making himself more powerful, he had to try and think of a way to beat them. That Gauntlet of Zeus was still being built, and if completed would make a victory over Sephiroth rather empty. With a shield generator in place and the area impervious to a ground assault…it meant that the only real way to destroy it was to destroy the faction that built it and would use it against them. That meant destroying the New Shinra first. But how could they do that? Had they more time, they could inevitably siege them out at this point. Resources and personnel were on their side. But they hadn't years to drag this fight out. They had only months…

Needless to say, in that regard, Ragnar was still looking for another miracle.

Yet again, his thoughts were diverted as he ran into this new part of town. It was outside of the military district, and here there were more civilians and shops. As he looked down in front of him, he saw some kids laughing and playing, Some were building snowmen while others threw snowballs at each other. The feeling of the new year was still in the air, and for now people were still happy and greeting with smiles. It felt better around here…nice to get away from the military once in a while. However, what truly made him happy was the knowledge that he was closing in on his destination at long last.

Just a bit down the road, the Baptismal Garden waited.

Ragnar smiled as he ran for it, dashing by so quickly that even after seeing it dozens of times, the locals still stared at him in awe as he went. The tall looming ruins of the Church still formed an entrance open to all as he ran onward, and came clearer into view as he came. Soon he reached them, and immediately turned and rushed inside. Only then did he begin to slow down as he passed into the interior ruins and looked about him.

It wasn't as green and livid as it was in summer, but it was still a bit of nature in a concrete world. The waterfall was partially frozen, leaving a cascading ice sculpture leading down to the ice-covered lake below. The trees were all filled with snow, some of them sagging a bit under its weight. The ground itself was crisp and even, despite how much time that Ragnar spent here. It always seemed that the fresh snowfall left it as flawless as it had been after the first fall. The flower bushes were huddled in small mounds, waiting for spring to come before bursting forth again. The birds that had come to live there and not migrated were fluffed up on a few bare branches, venturing out a few minor cries as they looked for something to eat to keep their heat up. Ragnar looked up a bit to one corner of the ruin that overlooked this small garden. There, just as she always was, was an old barn owl. There were enough mice that ran around in the garden for her to eat well, and so she lived there. She was nestled into her own feathers now, although she gave a look to Ragnar as he entered before closing her eyes again and patiently waiting the sun to go down.

But what stopped Ragnar more than anything else was what he heard. He now knew that he was hearing it and not imagining it. And since junctioning with Bahamut…the voice was now even more pleasant and distinct.

Welcome back, Ragnar.

This made Ragnar smile a bit more as he dropped into a walk, and then finally stopped all together. He looked out to the forest…feeling its presence even now sweeping around him, like a flock of curious animals sniffing him all over to see what new scents he had brought here.

It's good to be back. He answered this small part of the Planet.

"You're late."

Ragnar turned his head in surprise to this. Despite his new senses and awareness…she always managed to catch him off guard.

There she leaned against one of the trees. She had swapped out her longer, more restrictive clothing for closer fitting warm clothes, so that she could move easily and yet still be protected from the chill. Princess Guard was balanced over one shoulder. And, as always, her fair soft smile greeted him as she came off the tree. It made Ragnar feel even warmer inside to see it. However, his nervousness also came forth a bit as he sheepishly grinned, and then gave an innocent shrug.

"Sorry about that. I got a bit caught up sparring. I tied him at last today."

Aerith kept her smile and began to pull herself off of the tree. "I'm still expecting a full session today." She warned him a bit playfully.

Ragnar winced a bit at this. "Aw, come on. I need to get back to work…"

"You started this." She teased back as she started to walk over to him. "You're going to have to make time for it. I've grown used to seeing you at this time on a daily basis. You've gone and spoiled me."

Ragnar looked a bit rueful, but still grinned a bit. The truth was that although he knew he needed to get back to work and thinking of a new strategy…he liked spending as much time here as possible. He looked forward to this time for more reasons than one.

The youth began to turn to face Aerith as the woman came to a halt opposite him. As she did, Ragnar reached behind himself and grasped the handle of Ragnarok. With one easy snap, he pulled it out and in front of him. Its ever-present light began to burn immediately, and Ragnar winced a bit when he did so. It was amazing. Ragnarok itself seemed stronger than ever since being reforged. The sword seemed to have an even greater mind and will of its own now. It wouldn't be hard at all to pull off some of his tricks at this point…

As he steadied himself, Aerith lost a bit of her smile. She raised up the Princess Guard and crossed it in front of her. After that, she looked down to her feet and thought for a moment. With some hesitation, she began to move them out into a certain position, twisting them in a certain way. Once she did so, she looked up to her upper body, and then paused a moment to turn and twist her arms and torso into a certain way. At last, she looked up to Ragnar and then tightened the grip on her staff.

Ragnar himself raised his sword and shifted his own position on the ground. When he did, he too began to grow serious, and looked Aerith over.

"…You're crossing your staff wrong again."

Aerith reacted a bit to this, and then looked down to how she was.

"Oh…right."

Immediately, Aerith twisted her staff out to a guarding position over an offensive one. That was good for Ragnar. He didn't want her to ever risk going on the offensive…

"Alright…I'm going to try near full speed today."

Aerith swallowed a bit at this, her nervousness beginning to come out.

"…Alright."

"Ready?"

The Cetra paused a moment, but then looked up to Ragnar. Her eyes were wide and tense. Ragnar could tell she was running two dozen different directions and factors through them that she had been taught, trying to keep them in order. He didn't like this. All it did was distract her and confuse her in battle. But she was getting better. In the end, she swallowed again and nodded.

"Ok…begin."

With that, Ragnar moved forward, swung his blade up and around his head, and then brought it down on top of Aerith. Quickly, the woman raised the end of her staff up, intercepted Ragnarok, and then snapped her arms down and wrenched it to the side. Ragnar was impressed. She didn't panic when he did this. As he advanced, she retreated and kept up the block. However…that was a simple move, and one she had countered many times before. What more…he wasn't daring to go anywhere remotely close to the power he used with Cloud, neverminding full power…

Ragnar continued to advance, pulling his sword out of the deflecting and bringing it across Aerith's side. She stalled a moment, but then managed to swing the end of her staff up to deflect it. Now, the speed was beginning to show on her. He continued to advance, performing a few more moves to test her ability to guard herself at this speed. She managed to block them…but she became steadily more erratic as she did so. The new speed showed, and her teeth began to grit as more sweat formed on her brow. As they continued, Ragnar found that his moves were getting closer and closer to hitting. She was having more trouble with them. However…he didn't dare let up. He had to get her to a level of real combat as soon as possible. He only hoped he wasn't subconsciously going easier on her…

At one point, Ragnar did two slashes at her upper body. Aerith blocked both, first with one end of her staff, and then the other. At last, after this, she showed some real intuition. Early on, Aerith had been too timid to ever risk a hit on him. After all, Aerith used her staff for defense as a last result, not to seriously injure anyone. But now, she swept her staff down and around using the same motion she did for blocking and aimed a blow at his side. Unfortunately…she was still not focused enough for moves like this. Her blow was aimed for his calf. She should have aimed for his side or at least his sciatic area. This attack would do little more than give an opponent a bruise. At any rate, Ragnar didn't show his disapproval, but swung his blade down and deflected it.

This wasn't good enough. She had to do better. She had to be more aggressive…let out some of the anger building up inside her. He had hoped that she would be doing that by now…but she was still too timid. He had to give her more incentive. With that in mind…he increased his power and slashed again.

The blow was closer to Aerith's wrist now, and made her gasp at its suddenness and speed as she went to block it. But when she did, she yelped. The power was strong enough and the position right enough to give her wrist a mild wrench, causing some pain. Ragnar advanced quicker now, and soon Aerith was not only aching, but shocked as she had to back up. He aimed another blow down, which she blocked…but then cried out again as he did the same thing to her other wrist. Again he advanced, putting more pressure on her. Aerith's face began to strain. More sweat poured out from her brow. But still he advanced, putting more pain and pressure into the fight. He even forced his face to look angrier, struggling to get her to put out more effort.

"Ragnar…you're hurting-"

"Remember…I'm your enemy here. Fight back. Make me stop it!"

Aerith continued to wince and struggled against him. He increased his speed and power again, causing visible strain and pain on Aerith's face. He hated seeing it…but he had no choice. He had to get her to suffer. He had to give her a measure of the pain and fear that Sephiroth would inspire. He had to get her to respond to that positively by defeating her foe. He actually found himself lashing out next, giving her a mild strike to the ankle. She cried out louder at this and stumbled, but still he wouldn't let up. He was growing nervous himself. He was afraid he would hurt her for real soon. Her face grew more anxious and nervous. Would she think he was being cruel in a moment? Would she be angry at him? Or would she understand the warrior mentality and react?

Finally…something happened. After wrenching her wrist particularly painfully…throwing Aerith's face into a bit of agony, Ragnar brought his sword up and prepared to bring it down on her. But when he did…her wincing suddenly vanished…and Ragnar saw a flash of anger over her expression. With new speed and power, she raised the middle of her staff up, caught his blade, and with surprising force smacked it up and over his head. Ragnar's arms were overextended, preventing him from being able to get the long blade under control…just as he had told her that this move would do in this situation. And she surprised him with new strength and power. Now…his entire front was open, and he was poised to be hit.

Despite the situation…a thrill went through Ragnar's mind as Aerith did it. This was it. Now, the anger still on her face, Aerith twisted her staff around and aimed it. In another moment…she would jab out into his throat or face with sufficient force to injure or disable him. He thought nothing of the pain. Not only could he block it if he wished, he could take it even if it hit him. He realized she was going to do it…strike a major blow…

However…at that point, she froze. She hesitated, and when she did her anger vanished. Her eyes went from hard to soft again, and worry and nervousness filled her expression. Ragnar saw this…and screamed at her mentally. She had to strike now…now when her opponent couldn't defend himself. This was her chance, a chance he wouldn't give her again. But now…her softer side came through and retarded her anger again. Fear went into her eyes. After hesitating more than too long…Ragnar watched in dismay as she twisted her weapon to hit him in the side instead.

Ragnar sighed. She was already too late. In a real fight, he would have seized on the opportunity and killed her already. Almost tiredly, he brought his blade back under control, deflected Aerith's staff away, spun inward, and then brought his blade up and aimed it at her neck as he came out of it. He halted a moment later…facing the Cetra and with his sword resting lightly against her throat.

Aerith froze and gasped at how sudden the man had done this. She had been in this position many times before…but it still shocked her to have a blade pointed at her. However, after a moment, she calmed down, and realized what this meant. The fight was over. Swallowing a bit, she lowered her staff. She licked her lips and let a few more beads of sweat drop from her brow.

Ragnar stared at her a moment longer…his own look growing dark. The part of him that was Bahamut began to ooze through: the old mentor. He pulled his sword away and lowered it to his side.

"You should have struck then." He flatly told her.

Aerith hesitated a moment. But then, she slowly sighed herself. She realized what she had done wrong. She was calmer now, and she wiped the sweat from her brow as she bowed her head. Her face grew a bit more displeased with herself, seeing how she had screwed up. She knew exactly what Ragnar had wanted her to do, and knew she hadn't come through with it in the end.

"…I didn't want to hurt you."

Ragnar frowned, rolled his eyes, and slowly sighed. He had this discussion before.

"Aerith…I started attacking you more strongly just now so that you would think of me as your enemy. They won't give you any mercy, and if you try to give them any mercy they'll spit in your face and use it as an advantage."

The Cetra slowly sighed.

"I know…but…" She paused here, and then shook her head. "…I just can't see myself beating a person like that…hitting them where I know it will seriously injure them…or kill them…"

Ragnar kept his frown. The truth was…he didn't like that idea much either. It seemed wrong that this pure creature had to be reduced to the savagery of mortal men. And he definitely didn't like what he did just now…come at her with an intention of hurting her. It drove a nail into his flesh every time he heard her cry out, chilling his spine and heart. He hated the idea of causing Aerith any trouble or pain of any kind. And yet…these were all grim necessities. That part of his mind that was Bahamut knew this, and kept telling him that. It was good…because otherwise he never would have been able to do what he had done just now.

True to his intentions, Ragnar had taken up training Aerith to fight to try and defend herself. He was unaccustomed to long weapons, but Bahamut had more than enough knowledge of tactics and skills to give him what he needed. And the esper agreed with him…Aerith needed to be trained. She needed to be able to defend herself better. She probably would never be a match for Sephiroth, but it would give her a bigger feeling of empowerment and control. What more…it might give her an outlet to relieve some of the anger that she was bottling up inside her. Because of all this…Ragnar had desired to train her often and daily.

He had been doing so for weeks now. It hadn't been easy. Although she wanted to be trained, she was also timid and reluctant to be violent. He had to spend the first week mostly just "toughening" her up. After that, she had to learn a lot of basics about poise, advancing, retreating, and the ability to deliver multiple blows without getting tired. Once she had that down, true training had begun. She was making gains…but none of them were as fast as Ragnar liked. And, unfortunately, she wasn't being as "mean" as he would like either. That was a big part of it too…venting your emotions so that you could control them and use them. Yet she refused to let out her anger, save for in brief slips like the one he had experienced a moment ago. Only now did Ragnar realize how much she had to be holding back.

He had to keep pushing her. He had to try and break into that store and let off some more steam…now while she wouldn't unleash her full power if she did. He knew he had to be more mean and aggressive and cruel in his training…get her to resent him and want to best him if only to avoid pain…

And yet…Ragnar himself found his body tied back at this. Even with Bahamut urging him…he didn't want to hurt her. He couldn't bear making himself an object of hate and loathing to her. He was terrified that she'd continue to view him that way outside of practice…and in so doing push her away. Ragnar was becoming more and more aware of how much he cared for Aerith, and it was growing every day. Even saying something unkind to her in a joke made his tongue cling to the roof of his palate. He couldn't bear the idea of being that mean… How could he possibly be that way to her? How could he be as stern and demanding a taskmaster as Bahamut to the woman he loved?

He didn't know…but he knew he had to think of something. He enjoyed spending this time with Aerith…but this was not a time to be enjoying anything. This was work…and the consequences of how he did here would have a large impact on the future. If he wasn't going to be cruel…then he had to find some way to bring Aerith's anger out. It would mean the difference between life and death for this world.

At last, Ragnar shook his head and exhaled. He snapped out of his daze, and began to move himself into ready position again. Aerith looked up at him and saw this, and saw that his look of disappointment was fading. For a moment, his older casual self came out.

"Well, nevermind that now. Just try harder next time." He told her. His voice was brighter and more cheery now, trying to encourage the woman. "Let's get ready to go again. If I'm going to spend a full hour with you and cut back on my duties, then I'm going to get as much out of it as I can."

Aerith paused a moment herself, but then smiled as well. Seeming more encouraged, she began to get ready to spar once again.

"Ensign?"

"…Yes sir?"

"Have I ever told you how grateful I am to God that I was created with scissor like jaws, barely any lips, and a cleft for a philtrum?"

"Um…no sir."

"I am. Because if I wasn't, I would have been driven to take up smoking long ago."

The ensign said nothing, but after looking a little peculiar turned back to his own work. Red XIII snorted in reply. No one ever understood his humor…even though what he said was perfectly true. He always saw stressed out humans puffing on those cancer sticks. Luckily, canines were ill suited for that. No…he had to bear with his own stress more boldly and swallow it down as best he could.

The beast looked down to the work on his own "desk". This desk was actually one that was of an older style in Wutai, before the people of that nation had taken up sitting in chairs and instead sat on cushions on the ground. As such, it was perfectly suited for him…although it dipped him about two feet lower than the other officers in the room. He was the highest ranking person here, and yet he looked like some little kid crouched on the floor trying to play "war" with the grownups.

This was one of several rooms in the main command center of the PPA building. It was a reclaimed structure, just like everything else for their army. It was one of the higher floors in the building, and put behind several locks and guard checkpoints. It was also a rather busy one. The first half of the room was devoted to communications equipment, maps, and other bits of information collecting devoted to keeping track of what was happening in the world and with their forces. It had traditionally been only PPA personnel working there, although some Wutai units were there as well now. Farther back in the room, flanking Red XIII's desk were other minor officers who kept things in order depending on what branch of the military they were responsible for. There were a few aids as well interspersed who were either acting as military interns or were assisting in some way. Red XIII, seated at one end of the busy room, had two of his own. He had addressed one just now…mostly as a distraction to himself. Being the head tactician for the Planet Protector Army left him with few amusements and recreation. And it was another busy day.

As Red XIII looked over a few items on his desk, reading over some of the papers and notes, his ear twitched as he heard someone rising nearby. He turned his head up, and his one good eye saw a minor page handing something off to one of the minor officers in the room. On doing so, the lieutenant arose from his chair, turned, and then began to approach the beast. Red XIII leaned back a bit in reply as he came, and waited until he arrived. Once there, the officer, with some grimacing, proceeded to drop into a kneel so that he would be at the same level as the wolfish creature. After that, he placed the paper on his desk. The beast looked over it on doing so. It was a map showing an overhead view of their own shore, as well as a few pages of text.

"The WGN has completed their tenth dry dock. Only three of their destroyers are still being repaired; the others now at sea again. The empty docks are already busy building new destroyers, and their twenty docks back in Wutai are in full swing as well."

"Pieces of ships don't count in battle." Red XIII grimly replied. "What is the current fleet standing?"

"Thirty-seven destroyers."

"Some of these shipyards have to be put to work building transports. Even if we can break their fleet, it will do no good if we can't land a substantial force. And thirty-seven isn't enough. How soon until the next batch is ready?"

"The most complete destroyer won't be ready to launch for another four months minimum."

Red XIII sighed. "…And is Admiral Godo aware of the fact that his own intelligence group has been screaming at us for weeks that the Gauntlet of Zeus could be ready to fire in two months?"

"…He says he's working as fast as he can."

"Make a memo for General Ragnar to tell them to work faster than they can. Thirty-seven isn't enough. If we can't destroy the Juggernaut, then we'll have to outstrip it in terms of numbers."

The lieutenant paused.

"Permission to speak frankly, sir?"

"Granted."

"What good will telling them to work faster than they are able do?"

"More good then telling them to keep working at their current pace, lieutenant. You are dismissed."

The officer paused, but then rose up from where he was standing. He gave a salute to Red XIII, and then turned to go back to his position. As for the beast himself, he kept his eyes on the papers on his desk. He let out a slow sigh.

A little panic might be good at this point…and they had reason to. Working themselves to death was hardly bad council at this point, seeing as defeat was nearly imminent. They might have had the New Shinra besieged and running low on resources, but the fact of the matter was that they were the ones who were about to be annihilated if they didn't stop them before the weapon was complete. They all needed to be working like they did back in the days when it was just a few hundred men and women crammed into the valley of the City of the Ancients…when each day's work determined whether you lived or died. Time for patience and fortification had gone.

Yet they still were in a real tight spot. The Juggernaut was still living up to its namesake. They had received word from spies that all shipyards had been closed on the Northern Continent. Only repair work was being done now. That gave them some hope…but not if they couldn't sink the Juggernaut. All of their offenses had to be built around that monster, and until they could do some damage to it they were going to have to plan all of their attacks around taking losses from it. They were never going to be able to mount a landing invasion if they didn't find a way to get around it. And destroying it would make the enemy navy a far less effective tool. The question was…how? The thing had proven to be impervious to every weapon they threw at it so far. They didn't even have a basis with which to test the development of new weapons on to see if they would be effective. So what could they do?

Again, Red XIII's ears twitched as he heard something. The beast looked up, and saw that the door to the secure Ops Center had opened. Now, someone was walking inside…someone rather odd looking and astride a great big moogle. On seeing this, Red XIII let out a slow exhale and leaned back again, forgetting about the papers on his desk for a moment.

Soon, Cait Sith had managed to push his way through most of the others and was approaching Red XIII's desk. Despite how large and awkward he was, the robot was still making himself useful to their cause. He was good at intelligence, surprisingly enough. Perhaps it was because no one would ever suspect a giant stuffed moogle with a cat riding it to be much of a threat. But being a robot gave him several other good faculties as well, and his artificial intelligence was sophisticated enough to trust him with multiple tasks. A moment later, and the giant robot was standing in front of him.

"Hey Red! How's it going?" The strangely-accented cat piped on top.

"Rather busily as always." The beast calmly answered. "I never have time for visits, Cait. Did you have something for me?"

Here, a bit to Red XIII's surprise, the cat grinned wider than normal and seemed more enthusiastic than usual. "Heh…do I ever! I'm a bit amazed at it myself!" The robot snickered in answer. "You're going to love this! I was out making my rounds, keeping myself wired in to the secure communications channels. You know…it's good for someone like me who can break and make codes so easily to be monitoring that kind of thing. Anyhoo…I'm just minding my own business when I get a call from an undetermined source. Now…that's pretty gnarly right off the bat, seeing as we've got the gear to pinpoint any call. But not only that…it's on one of the secret channels. One that only our agents are supposed to be using, you know? At any rate…it's just a one way message in telegraph format. I transcribed it though, and I thought since the general is still out playing kissie-kissie with Aerith, I better send it to you."

With that, Cait Sith scooted down the side of his moogle somewhat to go to the mouth of the stuffed animal. A sound like some sort of typewriter or printer soon began to come out from within the moogle, and slowly a slip of paper came out from its lips. Once it came out far enough, the cat went down a bit more, ripped it from the moogle's mouth, and then held it in front of Red XIII as close as he could, knowing that the beast couldn't grab it and read it himself. The Colonel on his part looked a bit closer and slowly read the paper aloud.

"'Youth is wasted on the young…and look out for…Aquarius…?'"

Hearing this, the cat robot blanched. "Huh? That's not it!" Immediately, he crumpled the paper into a ball and pulled back on his robot. Frowning, the cat smacked it once on top of the head. "You big dummy! The message! Not fortunes! The message!"

The moogle paused a moment, but then began to spit out a new printed paper. This time, it was much longer than the previous message had been, and soon began to resemble a receipt coming out of the moogle's mouth. But it ended soon enough, and Cait Sith again tore it out and held it in front of Red XIII. The beast leaned back again and began to read.

Soon…he realized the robot was telling the truth about what this meant.

TO GENERAL RAGNAR STOP THREE HUNDRED SOLDIERS AND OFFICERS OF THE NSA WISHING TO DEFECT TO PPA STOP HAVE VALUABLE INFORMATION STOP ARRIVING AT MIDNIGHT TONIGHT IN MIDGAR BAY ON DESTROYER BLARING SURRENDER MESSAGE STOP SEE YOU THEN STOP

If she isn't better today…heads are going to roll.

Reno thought this with grim seriousness, for a change. But he didn't care as he walked down the halls into the secure areas of the New Shinra HQ Dome. He absent-mindedly swiped his own clearance cards and entirely bypassed some areas of security. A few guards would look up and move to stop him each time…but would then freeze. A week ago, guards that did try to stop this man from going in were put up in the hospital and hadn't gotten out yet. He was allowed mostly free reign as a result.

Reno, of course, cared nothing for any of that. As he continued to make his way through the halls, running into progressively less people, his thoughts were entirely on Krystea. It had been over a month now since they had "checked her in" to the highest level medical personnel in the New Shinra. She was wretched then…vomiting up blood…saying she was freezing cold although she was burning up…barely able to move…and covered with horrible lesions that continued to grow. It looked like some sort of horrible disease had seized her, and neither Reno nor his companions had any idea how it could have happened.

The doctors and researchers had no answers. The only thing they would tell them is that it had something to do with the teleporter she had gone through. Reno remembered that, and wondered what indeed could have been caused by that. Did something go wrong? If so, what was it? And was there any way to fix it?

The staff said they were working on it right away…and as they did, Krystea's condition had gotten worse. Every medical symptom in the book seemed to hit her…while things on her body grew steadily worse. Diarhhea, migranes, chills, fever, stomach pains, jaundice, edema, gangrene... Each hit her and was getting more horrible with every passing day. A few weeks ago, there was word that her brain tissue was rotting in her skull, which in turn left her unconscious and comatose. Yet that wasn't the only thing that was rotting away. The lesions turned out be necrosis…and it was spreading. Her hair and nails were falling out. Her skin was getting an ugly, lumpy, scaly look to it…one that disgusted the Turks…and filled them with fear.

Rude had suggested a terrifying possibility a little while ago. What if the process of putting her back together had failed? What if the cells were degenerating?

That was the first time in twenty years Reno remembered hauling off and slugging Rude.

After that, Reno had stormed back into this area, wanting a real answer. Until now, they just kept telling him that it had something to do with the teleporter and that her cells were dying. That wasn't good enough for him. A month had gone by. They wouldn't still be doing all these tests without having something. He had knocked teeth out of three of the researchers before Colonel Maritza herself came forward. He would have knocked her down too…had she not somewhat cryptically hinted that Krystea was going to be fine. She would say no more than that, just told him to wait a week.

It had been a week.

Actually, it had been a bit longer. It was night right now. Most of the researchers and doctors were asleep. That was fine for him. That meant he'd only have to deal with a few if he wanted to investigate their notes by himself. But he wasn't going to wait any longer. Something horrible was happening to Krystea…something that nauseated himself to even see… And no one deserved to suffer through that. If nothing else…he wouldn't let her lie there and get any sicker.

Reno reached the last door in the last hallway. It was a thin metal one, forcing people to walk in a predictable pattern all the way up to the exit…where a single armed guard waited. He looked to Reno as he came forward. Like the others, he began to rise to stop him. However, the Turk merely turned and gave him a single sharp glare.

Like a scared puppy, the man backed down. He held a moment as Reno approached, but then turned to the door and quickly fumbled with his own security keys to open it. It took him a moment, during which Reno came up behind him and had to wait. But in the end, he undid it and backed off. The door, electronically controlled once it was unlocked, immediately slid open. Reno walked through and it slid shut behind him again.

Inside it was mostly dark. The lights had been dimmed this late, due to time when the patients and staff had gone to bed. Only a few white ones were on, making the place shadowy and dark. It looked like a hospital in many ways, although as far as Reno knew there was only one resident. The front reception area, which was more of a place to check in people than to greet them, was abandoned at this time. There were no scientists coming in this late. Reno ignored this. What was beyond it was what held his attention.

The hallway into this area terminated at a T-junction in the back, which went either way and branched into more halls. Reno thought about going down those halls in a few minutes…although for right now he was focused on what was against this T-junction. The hallway split right before touching a room, which made up most of this portion of the back wall. The room was covered by windows on three sides, allowing many people to look in at once. There were a few smooth metal doors leading inside, although all were shut right now.

The interior of the room itself was dark. Only a faint dim light provided a vague outline of some equipment and the hospital bed that was inside. A few lights from the life support equipment were showing. Other than that…nothing was distinguishable from this distance. The glare of the exterior lights, few as they were, made the area opaque if nothing else did. Reno began to walk toward this place.

Yet as he did…he found himself subconsciously slowing.

It was quiet here tonight, just as it was every night. And yet…something seemed wrong. It seemed…quieter than normal. As he passed inside, a chill seemed to come up and over him. Even the lights, which had been dimmed before when he was inside, seemed darker than usual… It was strange…it was as if this place suddenly seemed a bit more lifeless than normal…like whatever small creatures were living on the air were dead or had fled from this place. Reno wasn't a man to scare easily…but he felt himself subconsciously begin to sweat as the hair rose on his spine.

…Something's not right here.

Reno actually looked around a moment, trying to see if something was out of sorts. However…he saw nothing. Everything was as it should be. And yet…entering deeper into the room only made him more nervous. The feelings only increased as he made his way down the hall and toward Krystea's room. In fact…it seemed to grow exponentially as he grew nearer…almost seeming to come from it. His footsteps seemed quieter, and the blood within him felt like it was drawing back in itself.

This made the man more uncomfortable…and despite how brave and cocky he was, a feeling inside him told him not to be there. However, he ignored it and pushed on. Whatever was happening…it might be an omen for something bad happening to Krystea. And if it was…he had to see it. He had to know what the doctors were doing, or not doing, that had effected her.

By the time he finally reached the corner, turned, and came before the metal door…Reno felt his heart seeming to recoil and beat less. The place was so silent that when he did not walk it was like some sort of quiet film…where some poor sap was walking right into the middle of danger and didn't even know it. He was actually hesitant when he reached the door, and swallowed once as he looked at it. He looked back up to the windows…but by now the glare was so strong he could see nothing. He had to open the door. Unlike the sliding ones throughout the facility, this one only opened when turned with a regular old knob. Knowing this, he looked down and stared at it for a moment…still as if it would suddenly lash out and bite him.

Reno swallowed one more time…and then finally reached out, touched it, and turned.

The door slowly swung open.

Even before it had gotten very far…Reno felt something horrible strike his nostrils. It was a foul smell the likes of which he had never had the displeasure of sniffing before. He had uncovered bodies that had been dead and rotting for days before in his work…but this was much, much worse. It was like some sort of funk growing on top of some nasty creature that had never been seen by human eyes before. It felt like it was dipping into his body and trying to drag the contents of his stomach out. Reno took a step into the room not out of willingness…but out of staggering forward, nearly swooning from the stench. And as he came in and cupped a hand to his mouth…he saw something worse.

Reno's eyes froze the moment they rested on the bed, and suddenly the stench was a thousand miles away from his thoughts. Something that nearly made him vomit or pass out from horror and terror was there on the bed…

Rotten flesh. Twisted…ripped…broken…dried in some places…juicy in others…matted all over the top of the mattress. Blood soaked into the sheets and was dripping on the floor. He couldn't tell for sure in the darkness…but he thought he saw bits of bone inside it as well. Never before had Reno seen something so revolting and nightmarish…

For a moment…ghastly horror grasped him as he thought that horrible wet, stripped mass was her… But then he saw that it was dead. This was nothing. It was the source of the smell, rotting away on top of it. And it wasn't in a humanoid shape. Rather…it appeared to be split from some central fissure…as if it had been ripped off…almost like a cicada shell.

This filled Reno with even more horror. The man did not scare easily…but he felt his hand slowly go to his side, dip his fingers under his shirt against his bare skin, and pinch himself until blood came out. The images and stench did not fade. This was real.

Plop-plop…

Reno didn't remember drawing it…just seeing his body snapped around with his nightstick pointed at the source of the noise. Had their been anyone there, he would have fired instinctively and sent as much electricity into whatever fool was unfortunate enough to be there as he could. Yet he didn't see anything…nothing living, at any rate. But he noticed something. Like most hospital rooms, this one had a bathroom in it. It was against the back wall and had a door covering it. The door was nearly pushed closed at this point…but there was yellow light in the cracks. He hadn't seen it before…or perhaps the lights had not turned on until just now. The noise had come from in there. It sounded like something very heavy being dropped into water.

There were bloody handprints on the door.

Reno swallowed again, not minding that he took in a bit of the stench as he did so. He kept his nightstick out and at the door, and eased back a bit. In truth…he felt glad that whatever had sounded had taken his attention away from the mesmerizingly awful sight on the bed. But now…fresh fear began to fill him. He had no idea what had happened…but it looked as if something had…ripped its way out of Krystea. The thought filled him with nausea, horror, and shock…but also with wariness. Whatever it was…it was in here still. And it could be dangerous. Reno had no idea why it had gone into the bathroom…and he had plenty on his mind concerning whatever revolting thing had happened. But something in his mind told him his primary duty was survival. Whatever it was…he had to confront it.

With that in mind, the Turk steeled himself and forced his body to walk into the room. The stench was even more horrible as he made his way in. Once inside, he slowly and carefully began to make his way around the bed with the grisly mass mounted on it, trying not to look at it. A side thought in the back of his brain wondered what the hell New Shinra or Hoeng had done to her…but he kept that out of sight and out of mind for now. What mattered was getting whatever this was. With that, he bit back the smell and finished making his way around to the other side.

A deeper puddle of blood and bits of flesh was on this side…gathered next to the bed. From there, a trail of bloody footprints led all the way to the door. This close, he heard something else. The water was running in that room. Moments later, another plopping went out. He thought he heard some sort of groan from within…and that sent another chill down his spine. However, he merely tightened his grip on his weapon and continued to approach.

The Turk slowly tiptoed around the bloody footprints on the floor, not even daring to look at the pile of meat on the bed with his peripheral vision. The air seemed colder and deader yet as he came, and appeared to drown out the small amount of sound he was making. The groan slowly turned into a wretching sound…and more plops followed. Sniffling came after that, and the water kept running although it was interrupted once or twice. All this time, Reno came until he was right next to the door.

Here, Reno halted a moment. He swallowed one more time, and turned his nightstick up to full power. He took a second longer to summon his courage and power…and then acted. Like any bust, he suddenly reared up with one foot, smashed the door in, let the yellow light inside pour out, and then dipped inside.

Again…Reno froze.

Like a hospital bathroom, multiple towels and washcloths were available here. All of them had been gotten out, and were covered with blood, as if someone had been using them to wipe up. A lot of blood residue was on the ground and on the sink, which was running right now. However…the most was on the toilet…along with a few other bits of what looked like flesh… A wretching sound came out…and suddenly a large bloody mass plopped into the toilet again…coming from the mouth of the person over it.

She was stained with blood from head to toe. Much of it was wiped away, but left streaks where it still had been. The few towels and washcloths that were still clean were being used one by one to clean off as much as possible. The woman herself, underneath the blood, was perfect. Her skin was flawless and smooth, and toned with fine, strong muscle. The power was evident when she tightened her grasp around her washcloth to throw up again. Once she did…she panted a few times, but then seemed to stabilize. Her hair, which was messy with dried blood, was hung over her face. But even with the crimson coloring…Reno could see the true color beneath it.

Silver.

Reno couldn't move. He didn't know what to say or do. He had expected a monster…and saw what looked like a young woman. However…there was little doubt what had happened. She…had somehow broken out from what was on the bed… But what was she?

He didn't hesitate long. The woman suddenly stopped…seeming to be aware of a new presence nearby. However, she didn't react with fear. She was surprisingly calm and controlled in her movements. As Reno watched, she very slowly turned around behind her and back to the Turk. Reno nearly took a step back…for the cold chill grew stronger as she turned to face him. Yet even then…he saw little. Her hair still concealed her face, and she was drawn up over herself.

Then…very calmly and without shame despite how she looked, the woman drew herself up. Everything about her seemed quiet and focused. As Reno saw it…despite his unease about her…he couldn't help but see that she was very well formed. She was like one of those old sculptures depicting female perfection. And having more than a few perverted thoughts in his brain, his eyes wandered. But that was all until she stood straight and tall.

Once here, she raised her perfect hands and placed them against her hair, and with one smooth movement pushed it back and over her ears. Her eyes were closed a moment as she pulled it back, but once she did and let her arms fall again, she opened them again.

They were steely and cool…as unblinking and unflinching as a cat's. And like a cat's…they seemed to almost have a feline oval shape to them. When they rested on Reno…they were calm and penetrating…almost as if they were looking straight into his soul.

They were pale green.

The woman's face was expressionless and flawless. Something about it seemed familiar to Reno…but at the same time very alien. No woman's face was this perfect and well formed. It was like looking at something unnatural…or even supernatural… Yet at the same time, her look was so mesmerizing that he couldn't turn away.

Finally, she smiled.

"Hello, Reno."

Reno hesitated, but then reacted a bit to this. The voice was smooth, strong, and flowing…almost like hearing the voice of a ghost on the wind. And yet…he could still detect something familiar on it, distinctly familiar. And when he saw that, everything suddenly seemed to click into place for him, unbelievable as it was. He stared a bit longer…but then found himself leaning forward curiously to her.

"…Krystea?"

The woman finally blinked here. She turned her head to the side…and seemed almost confused, as if she didn't know what the answer was to this question.

"Yes…" She slowly remarked, again in that spectral voice, and now seeming faraway. Calmly, she raised her hands and looked down to them. She examined them a moment, turning them over and looking up and down her body.

"What…happened to me?" She asked in confusion after a moment.

Reno hesitated a bit longer…but then it began to click. It was her. He knew it now. He could hear it on her voice and see it on her face, changed as it was. Only now…she wasn't sick. In fact, she looked perfect. There wasn't a single malady wrong with her. The only thing was…she seemed a bit…quieter almost…possibly darker…

The Turk ignored this feeling, and reached behind himself to strip off his suit coat. Once off, he quickly went up to her and put it over her shoulders, leaving his arms on her shoulders when he did. Krystea didn't seem to notice. She only curiously stared at herself longer.

"I feel…different." She finally said. "I feel…new."

Reno didn't know what to say to this. But as he looked her over…remembering the bed and what she was doing…he began to piece it together. Somehow…she had come out of her rotting body. He didn't know how or why…but she had shed her old skin…literally. She had sloughed off her old form, and now she was in this one. He didn't know how it had happened or why…or what this meant. However…for right now, he wasn't sure if he cared. She looked bewildered…but other than that she seemed fine and healthy. She wasn't stuck to that bed and she wasn't looking as wretched as a stabbed animal. She seemed alive again…

"Are you alright?" He finally asked her. "Do you feel sick?"

Krystea blinked once again. She turned and looked back to the toilet…which was still a bloody mess. She seemed almost confused to see it. She paused there for a moment, but then looked up to Reno. For a moment, her look was expressionless and blank.

But then…she smiled wider.

Something dark went into her eyes when she smiled…and tightened her newly flawless face. On seeing it…Reno's own face nearly blanched as a nameless fear shook his heart.

"…I've never felt better in my life."

To be continued...