Right.Erm, I was kinda busy this past week catching up on work (or trying to), doing stuff. So a little delayed response here. Also, slightly shorter chapter, since I came up with a brilliantly stupid idea of trying out a new writing style and forcing it down your throat. Feedback welcome, including "OMFG IT SUCKED". Yeah.

G.P. Larue - Some sexual tension here. Time for Arien to get challenged. Hopefully you'll like it... I kinda didn't know what I was doing since I tried out this new writing style to give some sense of jerky scene changes, but alas, pictures are worth thousand words, and motion pictures are worth... 100000. Not a JOKE. An average novel is about 100 thousand words (according to my AP language and comp teacher from last year), and they squish that into... 2 hours? So kinda hard here.

Moonshine's Guide - the KNIFE is not a Masamune. I didn't even think of it. In hindsight, that would have made my life so much easier. Unfortunately, Sephiroth was far from my mind when I vaguely outlined the story. I was also wandering around Oxford Street while feeling poor and dejected and slightly drunk, so that may contribute to GODAWFUL storyline. Oh well. Not my fault. Blame it on 10 Freddy Krugers (and for those of you who don't know what that is, go to Wikipedia... hint hint)

Echo the Ethereal Swordmast... - Michele will be make a slight cameo appearance in the end and that should make her extremely happy, so happy that she won;t care she isn't playing a crucial role in this story. Nothing else would be said about the said topic at the moement, since I'm trying to figure out how to procrastinate and do work at once. Did I also tell you I hate biology and I'm going to be doing it for the next three years in med school? SHIIIT.

Chapter 21: Arien's Trial

Blood…

Reno's mouth, painted crimson, glistening in the eerie blue light…

Vince… on the floor…

Tseng yelling…

Elena's screams…

Sharp pain in the chest…

Reno's smile…

Arien woke up, saw Elena's face lined with concern. Reno was getting woken up by Rude; Tseng was keeping watch. It was cold; she looked at the watch. 3:41AM.

"What?"

"You were having nightmares," Elena said softly. "So was Reno."

"Reno?"

Did Reno even dream…? Oh wait, he did. Occasionally. But now?

"Yes. Are you alright?"

She frowned. If Reno was having the same kind of nightmare, she was not going to like it. Although usually she didn't believe in premonition crap, there was still a nagging voice in the back of her head.

Reno looked awful. He was haggard, and his eyes looked hollow. He also looked almost blue. He sat, his shoulders hunched, looking a little ill.

"Reno?"

His eyes showed… what was it? Fear? Trepidation? Just fatigue? She could not tell. What she could tell was that… he was different.

"We need to get moving," Tseng said. It was a logical thing to say too, but at that moment, Arien hated him for it.

She also feared. But what, she did not know.

"What did Vampy say?"

"He finally agreed. After much coaxing and arguing."

It was not till the end that Vincent Valentine had agreed to come to the North to help them out. It was his fucking godson in trouble, wasn't it? He might have been more cooperative. But Vincent Valentine lived by his own rules and listened to no one. He made sure that the entire squad knew that before he decided to tag along.

"Do we really need him, Arie?"

"Do you know anyone else who has or had claws as his hand? Because I don't."

That shut him up.

"How is he going to get here?"

"No clue. But I'm sure he's not going to ski. He told me 'not to worry'."

"That kinda worries me."

"Yes, well you can be the one to talk to him then."

The conversation ended there.

Vincent came three hours later; how he got there so fast was anyone's guess. Nobody said anything; nothing needed to be verbalized. They just acknowledged each other, then moved on forward.

Something was stirring, a slight current in the air, a slight difference in the echoes. Everybody noticed it.

They all kept their mouth shut.

Their footsteps echoed throughout the cave, soft as they were. They remained silent. They marched through the tunnels, weapons at the ready, alert more than ever. Fear, anticipation, anxiety were in the Turks' eyes.

Suddenly they stepped out into a large area. The glacial walls flashed and dazzled the Turks with their blue glow; a large chasm opened in front of them, and beyond that, darkness.

"Wow," said Reno.

They stared into the dark chasm, speechless. Their minds were not even concerned with the fact that they would need to find a way to get through the chasm. They were dazzled by the vastness, the beauty of the area, natural sculpture, a glacial palace carved with years of wind . They stood there, dumbfounded.

And then, Arien saw: a man in rich brocade, the clothes too old to be from this age. Dressed in deep blue with swirling patterns painted in silver threads on the sleeves that belled out as it reached the wrists. The golden leaves twined around the silver.

The eyes. Look away from the eyes. But Arien could not. She had never seen a face like that before. Or eyes like those. It wasn't the color, or the shape, but… intensity of the gaze.

Arien had known many men's faces, most of them shaped fairly well. She had seen Sephiroth's face, knew that hers resembled his; knew Cloud Strife's face, Rufus Shinra's face, Yazoo's face, Tseng's face, Reno's face, Vincent Valentine's face, even Rude's face without sunglasses. All had their beauties, their charms, giving a certain air to the bearer. Sephiroth, his face the epitome of nobilis personae; Cloud, with his clear eyes that were honest and open; Rufus' knowing, arrogant smile; Yazoo's expressionless mask that almost looked like a chiseled sculpture, perfect in its contour; Tseng's stern face, intelligent and determined; Reno's cat-like eyes, with his mischievous grin; Vincent's calm gaze, distant and focused; Rude's silent confidence behind his expression. Yes, she knew the faces well, faces which hid and spoke of their distinct pasts. Faces that were perfection in each distinctive way.

But each perfection so far had flaws that fit seamlessly into the perfection. Sephiroth's eyes were proofs of just how much he was insane. Cloud was insecure, and it showed. Rufus was too calculating. Yazoo knew too much joy in simply destroying; Tseng was rigid in rules and unable to yield when necessary, or, as Reno had termed it, "had not just a stick but an entire forest up his ass". Reno's mischievousness was certainly a charm, but it often turned unpredictable and erratic, labeling him as a trigger-happy maniac who had no problem going postal and killing innocent pedestrians. Vincent was too emotionless, and Rude was often too silent. Each characterization had lent itself to the man's charm, but also became the flaw that made each face inevitably human.

This face had no flaws. This face could not have any flaws because it could not have belonged to a human. Arien had no idea what it was, but she was sure it wasn't a human. It couldn't be. Hair, soft and like finely spun platinum, poured down from the scalp to the back; eyes roughly the color of molten silver, slightly slanted bore into hers. A beautiful face, an aristocratic face. Slender and delicate nose, full and sensuous lips that were just begging to kiss.

Arien vaguely heard Reno shouting, but like a frog stared down by a snake, she could not move. He had to be an illusion, but what woman would not be ensnared by such perfection?

Arien took a step forward, felt nothing beneath her left foot, but did not care. He was there, and like metal to a magnet, she felt drawn to him, she must go to him, that was her destiny…

She heard Reno scream, his desperate call for her sanity, his voice full of agony as he called her name repeatedly. A small part of her consciousness stirred, grew into another entity, pulled at her mind. The illusion pulled her mind the other way, and she felt the two minds battle, pulling at opposite directions until she wondered if she was insane, or if she would break in two. She did not care. Nothing mattered. Her body was afire, the blood ice-cold, her hair was standing, her breathing ragged, her hands clammy and cold.

"Arien!" Arien saw a flash of red, clear aquamarine eyes, felt its intensity burn into hers. The slightly high-pitched voice, a man's voice, calling her name again and again, as if her name was an anchor to something… an anchor to what?

Come to me, the perfection before her eyes beckoned. She leaned forward, felt a strong hand grasp hers, and pull her back.

Her mind no longer knew him, but her body did; her body was honest, and responded to the touch of one man it knew. This man had trespassed the body, owned it, knew every inch of it. The body knew the temperature, the touch, and responded obediently.

Images flashed before her eyes, Reno smiling, Reno in anger, Reno concentrating, Reno sleeping. His mouth as he called her name, his hands in her hair. Every single cell responded to him, and she finally understood what it meant to be a man's slave. A willing slave was she, willing to respond to his beck and call, each part of her body dominated. And she was happily dominates as well. She was his, completely, without question; even in such throe his touch would awaken her, just because he was the only man in the world who had trespassed her body in such way.

The vision wavered, then shattered.

Arien shrieked in horror as she saw herself teetering at the edge, the chasm opening below her to swallow her into its darkness. She felt Reno yank her back, catch her in his arms. She felt tears running down her face, arms around her shoulders, and could do nothing but tremble, desperately trying to take comfort in the warm confines of his body, his smell, his warmth. She knew how close she was to destruction, not only hers but also his, for he would not be able to save the child, a gift and a reminder from her to him. With her gone, he would not be able to reclaim the child; he would save Vince, yes, because that was the order, but she did not doubt that Reno would cast him out, disown him. He followed his instincts, and his instinct would be that the child would be the constant reminder of her.

Vince did not deserve that fate.

She faced him, crumbled onto the icy floor. He followed, his arms still around her. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his smell. She was still trembling, tears were finally halting its flow; her hands were cold.

"You okay?" he asked into her hair. He tightened his arms around her, and she finally stopped trembling.

"I… I think so." She knew that time was running out. They had to get going.

"Wanna tell me what you saw?"

Arien shook her head. "Not now."

Reno did not protest, but instead grasped her hand. His hand was warm, living. She looked at his face, more human than ever and even more pleasing to the eye because of its imperfections. "Come on," he said. "We should go." He pulled her into a run, her hand in his, pulling her and guiding her.

They marched on after Tseng had found a little lock that was hidden in one of the walls. Again, they fell into silence that was just about as oppressive as the walls around them.

They reached a fork, showing no indication in which way to go. The five Turks and one former Turk looked at each other.

"There's three forks."

Tseng thought for a moment. "Arien and Reno, take left. Elena and I'll go down the middle. Vincent, if you'd please go with Rude down the right. Report back here if you don't find anything within two hours."

They separated, again in silence.

The entry hall was a glacial palace completely made of every hue between blue, green, and white, and nothing else. The intricate beauty carved into every inch of the walls sparkled in the stark white light that had no source; the floors were crystal clear, every hue of blue and green. The ceiling was somewhere, but it was so tall that it disappeared into the darkness, never to be discerned by a mortal. Here Arien and Reno entered.

"Hello, Jack," Arien said quietly to the man on the floor. His feet and his hands were bound, rendering him immobile. His face was streaked with tears and snot, and his suit was dirty and disheveled, torn in couple of places. He was the very picture of misery and hopelessness; that disgusted Arien.

"E…" He drew his breath. "Esile?"

"She's home," the woman replied; her tone was close to being gentle, but her eyes were cold. "She is an Invalid class A. I hope you know what that means."

He did, and he let out a wail. Class A indicated that the patient had no mental functions and was pretty much a newborn with an adult body.

"M… my children? Erna and Jen…?"

"Jen McKinnon, age three, and Erna McKinnon, age five, are still in your custody."

"They're at your house," Reno clarified with a mock-sincere smile on his face. "Well, they were, twenty days ago, when we last checked. Dunno, since your baby wife is the only one in the house, they might have ran away for candy or something."

"And now," Arien said as she leveled her pistol at his eyes, "I think it's time for you to go. Bye bye, Jack."

'Wait!" He howled, tears streaming down his face. "Arien! You can't do this! You can't!"

"Oh, and says who?"

"Arien! I have children! Just like you! Don't you understand? Their mother's not there anymore!" Jack was frantic. "Arien! Imagine if my children were yours! They could have been, Arien!"

"Well, they aren't, and Vince isn't your pathetic little brats," Arien retorted. "Too bad they had such a dumb father. And stop calling my name. I'm starting to feel defiled."

Jack decided to use the last resort. "Arien…" he pleaded, choked with tears. "Please… once before you were devoted to me… I don't deserve this by your hands… Arien…"

Arien now looked disgusted; Jack knew then what it meant to be faced by a Turk on an order to kill. They stopped at nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing except the objective. The old Arien, the tempestuous, loyal, clever Arien was gone, replaced by a cold killer, hell-bent on murdering him, on shooting his face; her eyes told him that she wanted to kill him, wanted to see his face get squashed like a ripe tomato, blood splattering everywhere. She wanted it.

"Arien…" Gasp. "Please… I don't deserve this…"

Arien leveled her gun between his eyes. "All you deserve," she said in a sick tone, "is this bullet."

Then she pulled the trigger.