It was an hour after the Gauntlet of Zeus had disarmed that they finally broke into the main office. On reaching there, Barret had to use his microlaser. It still took a good fifteen minutes of focusing it against the metal sliding doors and cutting through the substance before he finally managed to slice out a man-shaped section from it. Yet once it was, he immediately swung out a large boot and smashed it in. The section of metal doorway split into two pieces, one from either door, and fell inside.
Giving a yell, Barret leapt in through the opening with his gun in front of him. Moments later, Cait Sith plopped in on his side, giving a similar cry although far less intimidating. Yuffie was last, leaping in on the other side. The three scanned the area for sweepers, black widows, reserve soldiers, or anyone else.
A moment later and their dangerous looks turned to puzzlement when they saw nothing in the main control center other than a dead General Leers lying in front of them. The three looked down and stared at him a bit more closely, especially the wound that had killed him.
Yuffie cupped her hand to her mouth and made a gagging noise as she began to turn green. "Gross! That's bad even for Vincent!"
Barret frowned at the sight. "But who the hell did it? Think it was Sephiroth?"
"Somehow, I think he'd be a little less…um…discrete." Cait Sith mentioned. "The custodians had to work for two weeks straight to clean up all the mess from when he assassinated President Shinra. Based on what we heard breaking in here, I think Ashiah might be pulling the strings now."
"Heh…heh-heh…"
On hearing this, all three wheeled around and aimed their weapons at the source. Barret nearly fired off a few rounds by default. Their eyes zeroed in on the main desk, or rather what was behind it. Seeing this, they silently looked to one another. Barret gave a nod to those around him. Yuffie answered by spreading out to the left, and Cait Sith to the right. Both kept their respective weapons at the ready. The large man waited until they both had spread out far to the sides. While they did so, he heard that same laugh again. It was weird…seeming to almost be giddy.
He didn't really care one way or another. It was female, and he had a feeling it was Ashiah. With that in mind, he suddenly lunged forward. Big as he was, he was still strong enough to leap on top of the meeting table. Once there, he began to run to the end, angling his weapon down for behind the desk. Cait Sith and Yuffie ran in at the same time from either side. In an instant, Barret was at the end of the desk, bending over to look behind it and aiming his gun at whatever was there. Yuffie and Cait Sith were in from either side and aimed their weapons as well.
All three were more than a little puzzled at what they saw.
There was Ashiah, lying on the ground with a large bruise on the side of her head. However, she had some sort of stupid, crazed grin on her face, and didn't appear aware of anything else going on around her. Her head was rolling listlessly from one side to the other as she murmured to herself. Most of it was incoherent blabber. But some of it they heard…
"I killed you…I killed you…" She sang. "I killed you all. I killed everyone…every little one of you… You're all haunting me…but I'm not afraid…not anymore… You can't kill me…'cause I killed you… I'm not scared… Lah, lah, lah…I'm not scared…"
This was enough to make the three lower their weapons and gazed curiously. But there was more than that. Ashiah was inside a straight jacket as well. Her legs had been handcuffed together. The key lay nearby. It didn't matter to the crazed woman. Even if she had enough sense to try and free herself, her arms were immobilized, and she didn't appear to be flexible enough to use her teeth. Last but not least was a piece of paper taped to her straight jacket with a message.
COMMIT ME, PLEASE:(
"What the hell…?" Barret asked.
Yuffie frowned at the sight. "Kind of makes you wonder how she gave us such a hard time, being nuttier than Mideel Surprise."
Ashiah looked around at them, but her eyes no longer saw them. She continued to blabber, now no longer audible.
"She's gone off the deep end." Cait Sith said with a shrug. "There ain't much sense in killing her like this. She's already been trussed up for us too. We might as well take her prisoner."
Barret kept his frown. "Yeah…but who the hell did this to her?"
"Ah, who cares?" Cait Sith answered, waving one of his paws.
Yuffie kept her frown and stamped one of her feet. "I do, damnit! I spent all this time running up here for nothing!"
It was about three hours before they all reunited.
The warm weather was a big help to the Planet Protector Army. The sunlight was also welcomed by both sides. Much of the New Shinra Army was now casualties, which was cold comfort for the rest of the PPA. That made less people to have to corral and imprison. It was not easy work. The PPA had only a fraction of the facilities needed to handle this many people, and currently they were only temporary, ramshackle structures. They were almost full by the time the enemy surrendered, filled with their own wounded.
Yet with the battle over, and many New Shinra officers tired and weary of fighting, things went better than they could have. On seeing that the PPA didn't simply shoot them in the heads as soon as they had them and their division lined up, they decided to help out a bit more. They showed them where to find more intact facilities inside the Dome, where they could shelter and care for far more troops. Many of these areas had already been taken by invading divisions with wounded. As a result, it wasn't long before enemy and ally alike were pouring back into the Dome, this time in peace rather than war.
Half of the Dome itself was demolished…nothing more than a great black smoldering series of craters. The other half was fairly intact, however. And the interior still had plenty of room. There was enough space for everyone, and now that the area was secure it was implemented. After that began the long, arduous process of getting organized again. Separated divisions had to be reunited. Casualties had to be assessed. Anyone who was bleeding to death on the field had to be found and bound up before it was too late. Much of the wreckage and rubble had to be cleared away to make room for trucks and equipment. There would be much more to do after that, but for now they tried to just become situated.
Colonel Red XIII set up a central camp right at the foot of the Dome, blocking one of the main entrances. Everything had to pass through him. It wasn't that hard now. The storm had broken, daylight was pouring down, and it was actually warm. The biggest problem had gone from snow to mud. Yet it was pleasant now, and the task was easier. It wasn't long before Tifa, bruised and a bit torn, came up to join him, looking back into the Dome as she did so. She wasn't really able to help, but she stayed there and watched the entrance anyway. He was busy for the first hour of work, moving people around mostly and putting others in charge of guarding prisoners or moving the wounded.
However, he was only at this an hour before they started to come out.
Vincent was first, the children at his side. Although he had a cold face, inside he had as much confusion as the children near him. They had witnessed something a few hours ago that was fearsome and mysterious. They saw Aerith turn into a thing and then shoot to the bottom of the shaft. None had seen her since. Yet they could hardly stay there. Vincent still needed to be bedridden, but he forced himself to carry someone. Red XIII was rather surprised to see that it was Krystea, although she looked like she had seen much better days. She had seemed pale and lifeless on first emerging…until she came into the light. Then she stirred and smiled, enjoying the sun.
Limping a bit more, and seeming to be supporting each other as well as being supported by each other, were the Turks. They came out behind them. Elena and Rude raised their heads as they emerged into the sun. Elena remarked at what a nice day it had turned out to be, to which Reno grumbled that he wanted to go to the nearest liquor bottle and start forgetting about today. As it turned out, he didn't have to go far. One of the soldiers dragged out a crate of liquors that had been torn open. Each bottle had a rag stuffed in it. In desperation, the soldiers that had come across it had tried to make Molotov cocktails as their ammunition ran low. The soldier was confiscating it as weapons…but as soon as Reno saw it he pulled two of the bottles out, yanked the rags out with his teeth, and then perched himself in the mud and snow and began drinking both. He told Rude to find his own.
After that, it was impossible to get him to move, so the others found some better crates to sit on and waited. Vincent and the children followed, but not for that reason. They were waiting for the others to return. One of the field doctors came by and saw Krystea and offered to carry her out, but Vincent and she alike refused. They wanted to wait. So they gave her a blanket to cover herself with, and then left her be for now.
It wasn't much longer before the next batch came out. Yuffie was first, seeming to easily take the lead. That was because Barret was the one carrying the prisoner. Cait Sith brought up the rear, talking to Reeve at long last. The end of the storm meant the end of the interference. As soon as he emerged, he began to tell Red XIII that Reeve had said the kids were here…until he spotted them with Vincent. He was even more surprised to see Krystea out there, pale and hairless as she was. They all were when they noticed her, and realized they all had a lot of explaining to do.
But first of all, Barret dumped his prisoner off in front of Red XIII. Other officers soon gathered around and looked, and realized who it was: Admiral Ashiah, the last high officer of the NSA. It also immediately became clear that she was totally insane. Yet now, she didn't seem like she'd be a threat to anyone soon. Seeing as they had none of their own, they actually elected to leave her in the straight jacket and foot shackles as they carried her away to the newly-established high security medical area.
Not long after that was done, one final group emerged from the darkness, one that gained everyone's attention, and removed their lingering fear.
Both Ragnar and Cloud were in tatters of clothing, although they had grabbed a couple of military jackets to wear over their bare chests on the way out. Aerith was with them, looking regular again and without a mark on her. Yet most surprising of all was who Cloud had in his arms…Azure. Though the two children had known he'd be coming back, they reacted with joy and ran out to meet him. Tifa went with them, practically leaping onto Cloud and embracing him despite the fact he was carrying someone else. Soon everyone else was gathering around, and even Red XIII left his field desk to get up and come over to the others.
For a few moments, there was nothing but joy and happiness as they all greeted each other with hugs and laughter. Barret reached out and messed up Cloud's hair. Aerith and Tifa hugged each other. Yuffie gave Vincent a punch on the shoulder…to which he glared at her somewhat darkly about. Cait Sith directed his huge moogle to pat Azure on the head.
Eventually, Ragnar, still smiling, turned over to Red XIII.
"Well Colonel…" He spoke, getting his attention. "I trust you took care of things while I was gone?"
"I want your last order to be to promote me to General, General." Red XIII dryly replied. "After all the work I've had to do for you. The New Shinra Army's acting commander announced surrender. The crew at the Gauntlet of Zeus is disarming and coming down the mountain. The rest of the troops have surrendered and are being directed to medical or holding facilities."
Cloud heard the bit about the Gauntlet of Zeus, and turned back to the beast. "They didn't get a shot off, did they?"
Red XIII paused a moment here, seeming a bit uncertain of how he was supposed to answer. He opened his mouth and tried to think of the right words for a few moments. Aerith noticed him doing this, and smiled a bit as she turned over to Cloud.
"Let's just say for now that they didn't, and leave it at that." She simply answered.
The beast agreed heartily. He turned back to Ragnar soon after. "Well now…I take it since you all are still here and in one piece, for the most part, and that you have Krystea and Azure with you to boot, that you were successful as well?"
Tifa cracked her own smile here, and walked back over to Cloud. She nudged him playfully with her elbow. "It must have been too easy this time, Cloud. You don't even have a scratch on you."
Cloud couldn't help it. The irony made him bust out into a chuckle. Ragnar himself uneasily scratched the back of his neck with a large smile. Aerith innocently looked to the sky, folded her arms behind her, and let out a small whistle.
Denzel turned up from Azure's side, and looked to the adults now that they were quiet.
"Can we go home now?"
Everyone looked down to him on saying this, and everyone let out a bit of a snicker after hearing it.
"I really wish we could." Ragnar answered. "But that won't be for a few days yet. There's a big mess around here to start cleaning up. And I need to do a few things myself."
"Yeah…" Yuffie spoke up. As she did, her voice started to turn a bit less joyful and more downcast. "And don't forget…our group is down to eight again…"
On hearing all of this, the joy and happiness that everyone felt at being together again turned a bit sour. They remembered…and realized that their normal gathering was missing a more aggressively hearty persona. Until now, they had pushed it out of their heads to function. The fight was over now. Everyone was free to think and feel again. And when they realized this, they also began to realize who wasn't there. They had saved more people than any of them thought they would on this trip…but it had cost them something in return. Their lives wouldn't be exactly the same as they had been before on coming back.
The children, knowing nothing of what happened, looked curiously up to the others. Ragnar himself swallowed once, and bowed his head a bit more.
"…I need to start getting ready." He said at last. "Before we do anything else up here, we're having a memorial service."
Krystea could have been lying on the ground bleeding to death in some alley somewhere and she still would have felt more wonderful than she had in a long time, but she was still far more comfortable here than she had been earlier.
The supreme irony is that she found herself resting in a place very much like where this all began. The PPA had made use of the medical facilities within the Dome itself to care for the multitude of wounded. While she wasn't exactly "hurt", she was still unable to move. She'd have to be taken back to the Eastern Continent on a stretcher along with the rest of the injured, and she'd likely need physical therapy before her muscles were built up enough for her to move around again. Right now, she'd be very happy if a bit of her hair could start growing back…or her fingernails, for that matter.
This was a mass infirmary, so she didn't have quite the privacy of a private room like last time. That was fine by her. She had been alone and isolated for so long that she didn't care if no one left her in peace ever again. The bed was really only a cot and she only had a sheet and a blanket, but it felt so soft and comfortable that she had a hard time staying awake. Tired as she was, she didn't want to sleep anymore. She thought she'd dream of Aleron if that happened. She was wearing something now, though it was only a basic gown that patients wore. Due to how cold it was in the area, even with the sudden warm up, she also wore a cap of sorts over her bald head. It made her feel even more like she was a newborn…
The others were sitting around on nearby cots. The place hadn't truly filled yet, so they still had room. The only real injuries they had were from Aleron's single blows, and so other than a few bandages and ice packs they were normal. They even had their suits back on as they sat around their missing friend. Now that the hubbub had finally died down, they had the time to appreciate her being back at last.
Elena was sitting on the end of her own cot, next to her.
"So…what was it like?" She asked after a while.
Krystea swallowed a bit, and her face grew a bit grimmer.
"…I really don't want to talk about it." She answered. "I'm trying very hard to forget it. I don't know if I ever will…but I won't be any good to the Turks if I don't learn to live with it at least."
Reno, who still hadn't polished off the other liquor bottle, took a swig of it and leaned back a bit on the cot on Krystea's right. It was closest he could get to a recliner.
"Well, take all the time you want for now." He answered with a sigh. "'Cause as of now, we are so unemployed. No New Shinra Army. No Planet Protector Army. And with Wutai not touching anything with the scent of Shinra Inc. with a ten foot pole, we're out of work. We better hope Rufus gets some corporate enemies pretty quick."
Krystea looked over to him after hearing this…and despite how grateful she was to be free, she began to grow a bit concerned with the problems of her old life. "…Does that mean we're broke?"
Reno gave a bit of a shrug. "We had a bit of money saved up. Sadly…between the busted weapons, ammunition, recharging, medical expenses, equipment we could convert to spy on radio transmissions, the six guys we bribed to not watch cameras during our escape, rental fee for the warehouse we have storing our chopper in Junon, booze, new suits, and, last but not least, the fact that the New Shinra didn't pay us one red cent of the money we were supposed to get since we bailed on them…and the fact that the Planet Protector Army was extorting our double agent services for free...we've got about seventeen gil left in our account."
Both Elena and Krystea alike looked rather downcast at that. After all that had happened over the past two years, they had nothing to show for it. It was a bit depressing. Krystea probably would have been depressed a bit more…if she hadn't had so many things to be thankful for. They were all alive, after all. She was back in her old body. Her sister and brother still lived, and they weren't on opposite sides of the no-man's land anymore…
Yet as she was about to start counting her blessings aloud for the others to hear, Reno cracked a grin.
"Which is exactly why, on the way into the Dome, my good friend Rude stopped momentarily to hack the system and transfer the last 30 million gil the New Shinra had left into a new savings account. The way I see it…it's simply getting back pay with interest."
Both Elena and Krystea lost their depressed looks. They turned to Rude, who merely cracked a smile as he leaned back on the cot on Krystea's left. He calmly locked his fingers together and put them behind his head. Slowly, the two women began to smile as well as they turned back to Reno. The man was grinning now, and crossed his own arms behind his head as he leaned back against the cot pillow.
"Not a bad day's work." He said with a snicker. "Enough to earn quite a vacation. There's this place in Wutai that makes great Da-Chao Tsunamis…"
Elena frowned. "Forget that. Let's buy the President's old vacation home in Costa De Sol."
"I don't think they ever cleaned out the fridge in that place…" Rude murmured aloud.
Reno rolled his eyes and sighed. "Typical woman. Wasting months on end roasting your skin to a cancerous brown…"
Elena's eyes narrowed as she glared at Reno. "Give me a break! You want to go to that stupid city that's getting to be as polluted and crowded as Junon just so you can get yourself drunk! Like you don't do that three times a week already? I'm sick and tired of freezing my butt off year round! I want to go where it's warm for a change and I don't want to leave for a year!"
Reno sighed and turned his head back to Krystea, reacting typically to Elena's rage with total indifference. "Well, Krystea…" He spoke tiredly. "Since you've clearly had a very rough past few months, how about we leave it to you to decide where we'll be spending our vacation?"
Krystea was a bit surprised that the decision was suddenly thrown on her. Taking a vacation was the last thing on her mind. She didn't really care for any drinks right now. She had to try keeping down some light food. As for sunbathing…her pale flesh would roast until it got a bit more melanin. She really wanted to be back on her feet before she thought of vacationing anywhere. One thing was certain…she truly didn't want to go back to work for a long time. Even if she was up to it, all of this had begun while on the job. There were things in this world that were far more horrible than she had first expected. She had no interest to interact with them for a long time. She just wanted to rest and be with the people she loved…
On thinking of that, she got a bit of an anxious look.
"Actually…" She began to hesitantly say. "I…I…I'd kind of like…to stay with Aerith for a few months."
The other Turks looked bewildered at her. They stared back silently for a few moments. Then, Elena and Rude began to look a bit uncomfortable. They turned to each other and looked back, and then over to Reno. He was far more vocal with it. He didn't attempt to disguise his dis-ease.
"Aw no…" He said, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Back in that cruddy neighborhood with the watery liquor and the plain broads…" He hesitated here, and suddenly a thought came to him. "Though…if Tifa is going to reopen the Seventh Heaven…"
"Um…Krystea?" Elena uneasily said, taking over for Reno. "We've been living there for a few months already. Ever since things changed, we've been staying with the PPA. We were kind of thinking of moving out a bit…"
Rude said nothing, seeming to actually hold his tongue this time rather than just being quiet, but he still looked uncomfortable. As Krystea looked over them all, she saw their mutual reaction. Normally, she might have given in to this. They were a team, and they worked as a group concensus. She usually went along with what the others wanted…majority rule, and all that. However, that wasn't what she wanted this time. She really honestly didn't care for vacationing anywhere else.
"Guys…if you'd really like to go somewhere else…then I don't want to stop you." Krystea answered. "But…I've barely seen Aerith more than a week my entire life. I want to be around them more. You guys mean a lot to me…but so do they. They came to save me along with you. I really want to be around them for a few months so I can get to know them better. This is really the only place I want to go."
The three Turks looked back a bit ruefully. Even Reno was starting to look uncomfortable, they looked up and to one another again. It was true…they had taken their fill of being in Midgar and Edge and especially of being around their old enemies. They were really eager to get away to some place brighter and more lively. None of them had anything tying them down. Wherever they were with each other, they were home.
But…they had also missed Krystea. They had spared Maritza simply because she claimed to be able to restore her. Now that she was back, they felt more complete than they had in a good long time. And though they hated staying in Edge, the rest of the world would not mean anything if they left their ally behind. They all knew full well that she was still living in a fantasy. Aerith wasn't really her sister and Vincent wasn't really her brother. Yet those two knew it as well, and they seemed to not care. They figured that Krystea had already been tortured so much that she didn't need them to tell her the truth either. And so that left Edge as being the only place where Krystea would truly be happy now. And none of them wanted to ruin that.
The others lost their rueful looks one by one, and turned to resignation.
Reno sighed.
"…Tomorrow morning, I'm looking online for the most expensive condo I can find in that damn city…"
Ragnar had never met Shera. He had never even seen her save for a few pictures that Cid kept in his office, and he had so rarely gone there himself that he had no permenant concept of what she looked like. Hence, this glimpse of her was the first he had ever truly seen.
It was a pity it was seeing her going down to the water and setting in a small white boat with a candle.
Ragnar had announced the service as soon as he had reassumed command of the army. He wanted it held in only one place. That might have been hard on some of the soldiers. The only way they could get there were vehicles, and they were in short supply. Even with using the NSA's own trucks, it was hard for all who wanted to go to be there. Yet that was unfortunately the way it went. Some would have to stay behind for duty regardless. And Ragnar felt that this place was the only one that was truly appropriate.
Now, he stood before where this had all began for him…the pool in the City of the Ancients. All of his friends were gathered around him, and so were the children. Behind them, gathered in a mass multitude that filled the area and went into the streets beyond, were hundreds of soldiers. Many of them were high officers, but some of them were divisions or platoons that had lost important members of their unit. Ragnar himself, bandaged as best as possible, had returned to his official uniform. Cloud stood nearby, wearing his own official uniform for a change over the battle one. The sun, which had graced them with its warmth for most of the day, was now setting, as it inevitably had to. Darkness was once again closing in. Yet the general had a remedy for that…
It was not possible to assess so early how many casualties there were, let alone how many had died. Yet most divisions that had lost a man knew it, and if they couldn't be there they sent their commanding officers. For each man or woman that had fallen, a paper boat was made and a candle placed inside it. The Dome had plenty of both, paper for work and candles for emergencies. One by one, the officer came forward and set his boats in the water. He or she lit the candle, and then sent it in. By now, though the darkness was closing, the lake was glowing with thousands.
Shera had made one of her own boats. Higher quality paper, a bit larger, and with a candle she herself provided. No sooner had she set it in then someone else came forward. Commander Mack, dressed in his own full uniform, reached the lake's edge and crouched. Shera turned and looked to him, seeming confused for a moment as to why he was there. Yet she said nothing, and after a moment…she began to think he was the "young son of a bitch" who Cid had talked about quite a bit in his phone calls.
Slowly, Mack extended his hands to put something around the candle.
It was Cid's goggles.
Ragnar bowed his head. Cloud did the same. One by one, his friends did as well. Tifa rubbed her own eyes as she bowed her head. Aerith closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. Red XIII began to hum an ancestral chant from his homeland. Barret gave the boat a salute. Cait Sith pulled off his own crown and held it to his breast…before his giant moogle pulled him off and held him to its own breast. Yuffie sniffled and struggled not to cry. Vincent simply closed his eyes, crossed his arms, and gave a nod to the boat…as if he had done well.
None of this would have happened if not for him. Ragnar thought. It would have taken two days to exhaust the Juggernaut's ammunition. An invasion would have failed if we couldn't have swept them down the middle. No one would have been crazy enough to think of his attack except him. He knew he was getting himself in the hole by donating his ship to us at the start. He knew that he didn't have much time left and that by giving it to us he kept himself away from his wife.
And he didn't care. He died trying to make sure that we'd win. He never even let us know because he didn't want us to stop him…
Shera gave the boat a push, and out it began to drift into the water to join the others. She rose and backed away, and Mack did so with her. Ragnar looked beyond them and to all of the lights on the water.
So many people died… Fathers…mothers…brothers…sisters…friends…relatives… I was so upset that I'd lose one person close to me. I forgot that while I was fighting for her so many others were fighting for their own loved ones. A lot of good people died today. I'll wonder forever whether or not I could have done something to save more of them. There are going to be a lot of people crying and mourning starting tomorrow all around the world. They'll blame me for it. I'm the one who told them to join. In truth…I am to blame for it. I took them away from their sons and daughters and families to die for my cause. If not for me, they might not have died.
Or perhaps they would have. Many people could have one day been slaves for the NSA if they had stood back and let themselves be taken. Smaller city rebellions would have been crushed if they didn't have a chance to organize. Hindsight is 20/20. I don't have master's ability to look forward or back in time. I'll never know if more people would have been spared if I hadn't started this at all.
My only consolation is that I lost a lot with them. Not just Cid… My home…my sister…my mother… At least I can say that I suffered along with them. I didn't just lead them out to die and never took any of the risk myself.
But then again…I gained a lot too.
The memorial service didn't go on much longer. Cid was the highest ranking officer who had perished in the invasion, and so he had been last. There'd be more for him later. After all, his body was present. He'd have a proper funeral. Many of the soldiers were MIA or would only have a service if it was closed casket. They would only have this candle on the water. Despite how tragic it was, it was beautiful. The small flames seemed to complement the city that made its own light. And here in this setting, it looked almost as if they were, in some way, putting these souls to rest. The whole multitude stood in silence until the last ray of light faded, and the stars, for the first time in months, began to shine.
It was then that Ragnar dismissed everyone…and then parted from his own friends and wife.
He had one last service to conduct.
Yesterday, or any other day for the past 3,000 years, Ragnar would have needed a snowmobile to get here. Tonight he needed a four wheeler. It was a rather muddy trip, what with the permafrost melting and turning the ground to mush. A lot of it flipped up on his clothing. That hardly mattered. No one could see him here. He left his own army far behind where he was going.
It was quiet out tonight, and pitch black. When he was younger, he probably would have feared being out here. There were lots of creatures that roamed the area, and with no illumination except his tiny little spotlight in the darkness, it was enough for any person traveling along to start dreaming up fears. It didn't help that Ragnar was essentially driving to a ghost town. Yet he swallowed that back, and kept on driving without fear. After two hours, he was still calmly driving up.
Then he finally saw it. He didn't stop on first seeing it. He let himself drive on further. He went into the deep rifts that led up to town. He kept his wheels out of them, or he'd be caught in mud for the rest of the night. He slowed the engine down as he rolled into the main drag that they all lead to. Once he was in, he drove on a bit further, already seeing bits of metal and bullet casings littering the ground. Once he had passed those, he finally slowed down and came to a halt. He turned the engine off and looked around.
This was it.
Icicle Inn had never been resettled since Ragnar led the some hundred or so individuals in the revolt that would start the war. The enemy found out that it had far too many areas where an ambush could be set up, as was proven by Ragnar himself. They thought of burning it down, but they never did. It might have provided an opening ground for a base or outpost later on. And so, after cleaning up the bodies and getting what hadn't already been taken by the raiders, they pulled out. None had been back since.
The buildings were in deteriorated shape. Each one had been battered by elements and storms, and no repairs had been kept up with it. The windows that had been broken during the assault were still broken, and the doors still open. Snow had come in and frozen everything within the homes. Then today, when the sun returned, they were all melted and soaked into what hadn't already been destroyed. Rot would ruin anything of value that was still left. Garbage that had thawed out littered the streets. Wild animals had broken into the open homes and raided all the food and leather items. Some had no doubt used them as shelter some nights. Ragnar could see excrement on a few porches and steps. It didn't look like much of anything anymore. It had only been a little over five years, and yet the place looked like it hadn't been lived in for decades.
Ragnar's head slowly looked around, seeing the sad remains of the place he had called home. He honestly didn't know what its fate would be now…but it would likely continue to break and wither until it was gone. There were no valuables here anymore that weren't wrecked. Whoever was left of the original citizenry would not bother coming back to a place where half of the population was dead, and was filled with memories of slavery and oppression. And what would they return to? It would be years before commerce of any sort would come through here. When it did, they would find nothing. Aerith's gesture had been directed to revitalize damage that Jenova had done thousands of years ago…but it also effectively destroyed the only boon this town had going for it. Now it would only be any good in late fall and winter. Perhaps years from now someone would demolish the ruins and build some sort of ski resort…but seeing as the path to it would be lined with bare rock and mud for the next twenty or so years before even becoming a grassland, that was unlikely.
No…this town's fate had been sealed the day the New Shinra had come in here. And Ragnar himself had nothing left here. There was only one final thing he wished to do.
The youth turned and directed his body toward the old clothing store. Every summer he had to repaint the sign on it to recover from the blizzards of the previous winter. Since he hadn't been there to do so for five years, he could barely make out the lettering of the shop. The glass was intact, but the door had been opened when a civilian bearing a gun had broken out of it over two years ago and opened fire. Nothing had shut it again.
Ragnar inhaled and then began to walk toward it.
Within a few moments, he was crossing the threshold. The echos of outside vanished as his feet clicked against wooden ground. Storms had blasted the carpeting off this close to the doorway, and the melt of snow had exposed the bare boards beneath. He looked inside, but couldn't see too far. The only illumination in town was from the spotlight on his four-wheeler. That gave little light into the darkness. He saw enough to see that the clothing racks were bare and shoved aside. The cash register had long since been broken into, and having found nothing the thieves had never bothered putting it back together or back on the counter. The room was clear all the way to the back door…where, twenty three years earlier, Private Serge had broken in for his date with destiny…
The youth exhaled and inhaled again. Slowly, he turned and closed the door behind him. After that, he turned back forward to the shop. He walked in a ways, now shrouded in darkness. He didn't care. He knew this store like the back of his own hand. Technically, it was his store now. But even if it wasn't a ruin, he wouldn't have come back here. There was nothing left in this town for him.
Once he was in the middle, he drew Ragnarok. He twisted it around and put it into the wooden floor, blade first. The tip struck and held firm. Once that was done, he sat down on the ground in front of it. He removed one candle from his pocket and set it out. He removed a second and put it next to it. He drew out a third…but then stopped. He didn't put it back in his pocket, but he didn't put it out either. He kept it in his hand instead. After hesitating a bit longer, he went back into his pocket, this time for matches. A few seconds later, and he had lit both of them.
Ragnar moved back and sat behind his sword as the two candles flickered. Even the smallest light against Ragnarok turned it into a living fire. It reflected the dim light and cast its own glow around the room. The youth could see it more clearly now. The carpeting was gone all the way to where he sat. Luckily, the water had soaked through the floorboards and disappeared, or else he would have been sitting on soggy wood. Broken or stored clothing racks were all around the walls, gathering dust from lack of use. Far in the back, he could see the door to the bathroom and the door to the upstairs standing to either side of the door outside. He thought of going upstairs for a moment…but then decided against it. There was nothing more up there that he couldn't experience down here.
Ragnar continued to roll the one remaining candle in his hand as he stared at the two in front of him. Their wax slowly dribbled on the floor, providing a way to anchor them. He thought of who they represented. He could actually visit his sister's grave…but he had no idea what had happened to his mother. This was the only way to think of her now. The idea entered his head more than once to simply tip both candles over, and then walk out as the flames took the building. But no. This place had never been one of pain. It was all that was left of his family. Even the fact that what brought him into being had happened here…in one of the worst ways imaginable…didn't make him want to destroy it. And so, he let the candles continue to burn.
He must have sat there for an hour, before the wicks had burned down to less than an inch and the candles were mere wax puddles. They would die out soon. Seeing this, the youth swallowed again, and then stood up from the ground. He reached out and grasped the end of Ragnarok and pulled it up, meaning to yank it out of the board it was now inside.
Therefore, he was a bit surprised when the entire board came out instead.
The young man's brow furrowed ever so slightly. He pulled up his sword the rest of the way, and then looked at the board on the end of it. It was one of the small cut pieces, meant to fill in a gap between two large, full-sized ones. What more, there were no nails in it. It wasn't weakness that had made it come out. It was the fact that it was never fastened down. It had just been set there underneath the carpet, possibly for utilities. Ragnar never remembered seeing this. Of course, he had never seen under the carpet his entire life. It had been there since he was young. He looked down to what was beneath.
The fire of Ragnarok shed some small light inside. There were no outlets or utilities there. It was just a small hole dug into the ground. It was a bit muddy from the snow having soaked through the floorboards and into it, yet Ragnar knew that historically wasn't the case. It had normally been bare and dry due to the eternal snows outside.
One thing sat in there.
A small, folded up piece of paper.
Ragnar stared down at it silently. He showed no emotion one way or another. However…one thought did run through his brain. He had just found something that neither he nor anyone else had ever been meant to find. It was something that someone who had lived there never wanted known, and yet at the same time was unable to destroy it or remove it.
After a moment's pause…he crouched down and lowered his hand into the hole. He drew it back a moment later, lightly clutching the paper.
Ragnar placed Ragnarok back in the wood, and then turned to the candles. They were nearly faded now, but they still gave light for the time being. There was enough for him to examine what he held. It was wet, but ages before this had happened it had already grown yellow and wrinkled with time. There were waterspots leaving their stains all over it, and it seemed as if it might fall apart if jostled too much. Therefore, he was gentle as he flipped it over and saw a printing on the folded side.
He recognized it. It was, or had once been, a white order form. His mother used them to place orders for more stock. This was far older than any one he had ever seen. It was also blank, not showing any date or invoice. He slowly turned it back over and began to unfold it.
Then he saw what the true significance was. There was handwriting on the other side. A long message had been written down. Ragnar had never seen the handwriting style before. It didn't belong to his sister or mother, and definitely not to him. He finished unfolding it and smoothed it out. Once he did, he leaned over and got on his belly, so that he could put the message on the floor in front of the candles. Once it was there, he slowly began to read.
I have failed as a man.
I have committed a crime so terrible that I cannot live with myself another day. I have performed an atrocity far worse than what you think I have done. I will never be able to look at myself in the mirror again. I will never be able to face my wife and son again.
I had the chance to choose between what was right and what was easy. I chose what was easy. I thought I was helping my family. I thought I was saving my son. I realize now that there are things in this world more important even than saving yourself or those you love. It would have been better to have died as someone that he could have looked up to then to have lived as a monster. I should have taught him that to do what is right requires us to make hard decisions sometimes. But I was weak when I needed to be strong. I now know truly how right the proverb is…that it is no profit to a man to gain the world but lose his soul.
I will never be able to ask you to forgive me for what I have done. I have no right to ask you for anything. That is why I will beg you instead for one thing.
Please do not punish the child for the crime of the father. An innocent life is going to come from this. He or she will be far more innocent and pure than I was, and he or she will have had nothing to do with my acts. It's a very selfish plea. After having done this to you, I'm now asking you to become an object of gossip and derision by people who are too cruel and judgmental to understand. I have no right to ask this. Your final act of revenge against me could be to kill the child, simply because I want him or her to live.
I beg you with all my heart to spare the child. Teach him or her to be good and blameless at all costs. Teach him or her to make the right choice when the time comes. Please let something good come from this.
My name is Private Serge Strife. I'll let you decide whether or not to find my wife and son and tell them what I have done. I performed this act in secret. I'll let you decide if the truth should be clear to all.
Ragnar stared on at the paper in silence. He read the last paragraph a few additional times. When he did, the truth began to come to him. Bahamut had never revealed Serge writing a letter to his mother after he had committed his sin. The esper, however, said he was merely piecing the story back together as best as he could. He had likely missed several details. And now…new thoughts flooded the youth's mind.
Despite what Serge had done to her…despite her anger and fear and shame…she had spared him. She had given birth to him. She raised him with love and care. She endured everything that Serge had said she would. In spite of everything, she had done what he had said in the end. She had not allowed him to die for his father's crime.
She had hid this when he was young. She must have found it and read it, and then put it away. On it was the proof of whose child he really was. She could have destroyed it, but she never did. She didn't because it had the only record of who the man was who was his father. It had the only way of tracing his remaining family. Yet she never showed him. Perhaps he was still too young at the time when she could have. Ragnar was put into impressed labor when he was seventeen. She might have waited until he was eighteen before showing it. Or maybe she never wanted to. If he had known the truth, he would have known what he was. He would have known that every day she had bore Ragnar and every day after his birth until the day they parted had been a blessing and a curse for her. He would have known that he was a mistake…
Yet his eyes went back again to the last paragraph time after time, and read the full name…the name that his master had never told him.
Private Serge Strife.
And on reading this, he now knew another truth. She had never done it. She could have searched for the name. Strife wasn't that common. She would have found it wherever the woman had settled. Then she could have sent a copy of the letter, and it would have been done. His wife would have known how he died…as a violator of women. It would have forever turned his image in his family's eyes into one of being a foul demon. She didn't. She let them feel that he had only died directing them away from danger…saving them. He remained a hero in their hearts.
Serge Strife.
Why had his master never told him? He could think of only one answer. He was respecting his mother's wishes. If he knew the truth…then he would have to inevitably know their relationship. And once he did that, he would impulsively want to share it. Doing so would have been bad. Cloud was clearly older than Ragnar. There was no way to claim anything like "old girlfriends". This had happened after he was born. The truth would have only been hard. He could have lied…said that his father had been in a one night stand…but that would have not only ruined his opinion of his father, it would have ruined his mother too. She had bore enough hate and shame unjustly without disgracing her memory.
Somehow…he felt he had always known. There had always been a bond between the two of them. It had been said how much alike they looked. He had never had many friends himself, and none of them were that good. That he would bond so quickly and easily to a cold stranger was unusual. And Cloud had done the same to him. They'd die for each other. Ragnar began to realize they had both been wrong. He'd never be able to tell Cloud this, but it seemed that both of them still had some family left.
It wasn't long after that the two lights shrank as they fell into the wax pools they created. A bit longer, and both of them went out. Ragnar was soon in a darkened room. He looked at the letter in his hand none the less. He could still see the words burned in his mind. He continued to hold the letter for a few moments longer, before he finally reached a decision.
Slowly, he folded the paper back together and placed it back in the hole. He picked up the block of wood and set it back on top of it.
After hesitating a moment longer, he finally took up the third candle and placed it on top of the block, and then lit it as well.
Once that was done, he took up his sword, rose from the ground, turned, and went out to start his new life.
To be concluded...