05. Don Corneo

"The gate to Sector 7 is there." Aerith pointed at a familiar metal gate behind them. The day was getting darker, what little sunlight they got under the plates getting disappearing fast. Cloud looked back at the way they'd come; maybe he shouldn't have let her come. Except that it wasn't much of his choice from the beginning.

"Thanks. I guess this is goodbye. You gonna be all right going home?" He asked. Aerith rolled her eyes, a soft grin spreading on her face like color on water.

"Oh, god no. Whatever will I do?"

Cloud hesitated, not sure of what to say. Aerith laughed; something about his face was apparently very funny. "No, I'll be fine. Thanks, Cloud," she finally said.

Cloud nodded. He was going to wait for her to leave; but she didn't, and he thought about asking her if she was going to, but didn't. They weren't exactly looking at each other but they weren't looking at anything else, either. The moment stretched over the battered wooden boards and fallen, broken bricks in front of the metal gate.

"Hey, listen – do you mind…" Aerith cleared her throat. "Do you want to sit with me for a while? You know, just to – talk."

"Sit?" Cloud asked, feeling a little dumb. "Talk?"

"Yeah. There's a playground at the back." She'd lost the hesitation. She'd read his answer already; Aerith smiled, and tugged his hand. Cloud walked with her.

The playground was old; green mold had grown out of the cracks between bricks. The paint had peeled, rusted red, and metal chains were barely holding up a swing set. The only thing still intact was the seesaw.

"Looks dead." He'd meant to say old. Aerith nodded, sitting at the bottom of the slide. Cloud sat across from her, on the seesaw; the rotting metal squeaking sound. Cloud worried it might break under his weight.

"It is now, but four years ago… I haven't been here in a while."

He watched her watching her memory. Memories were best left alone, he thought again.

"Can I ask you something?" She said, breaking out of her thoughts with a suddenness that made him startle a little.

"Go ahead."

"What rank were you?"

"Rank?"

"You know, in SOLDIER."

"Oh. I was –"

No.

It says this a lot, this mysterious voice, with the same kind of desperation, the same persistence. He doesn't bother asking who it is. It wouldn't answer, anyway.

" – First class."

Cloud finished, feeling a little strange. Why the hesitation? It wasn't like it was a terribly difficult thing to recall; not the kind of memories that he'd had to leave alone (and which were those?).

"Hm. Just the same as him."

"The same – as who?"

"Oh," Aerith looked at him, a little mischievousness in her eyes. "My first boyfriend."

"Huh."

He didn't know what to say. He watched her trace the same pattern with her finger over and over again, making a small triangle on the dust.

"I liked him for – oh, quite a while," she said. She didn't seem bothered by Cloud's lack of response. It occurred to him that this playground must hold (four years ago, she'd said) some kind of meaning for her – him – the two of them. Sacred ground.

"So – what's his name? I mean," Cloud hesitated. "Because I probably knew him. There aren't many first class SOLDIERS."

"It doesn't really matter," Aerith answered, somewhat distracted.

Cloud was about to say something (he'd never remember what, later) when he heard the Sector Seven gate open. He looked up in reflex, and froze when he saw who walked out. The playground was some distance away from the gate, enough to blur faces, but he'd have recognized her anyway. Anywhere.

"Tifa?" Cloud stood up. Aerith turned her head to look.

Tifa looked oddly out of place. Stranger still was the clothes she was wearing – not the black ones he'd gotten accustomed to seeing, but a light blue dress; he knew that color. The night, the party, the promises.

Tifa seemed to glance at him, maybe hearing his call, but then turned away; she hadn't seen him. Or maybe she had, and thought him a ghost or a mirage. She hurried her way to Sector Six gate, was gone before he could even start to follow.

"Tifa," Aerith mused. "Is that your friend who, uh, runs the bar?"

Cloud nodded, distracted. Something about Tifa was so – off. And why was she going to Sector Six – in that dress? Another mission for the AVALANCHE?

"Cloud," Aerith sounded cautious. She gestured to the gate to Sector Six. "You know what's behind that gate, don't you?"

"…Yeah. The Wall Market."

"Would she have a reason to be there?"

"Maybe, but – nothing good." Cloud gritted his teeth. If it did turn out to be an AVALANCHE mission, he would have to have a word with Barret when he got back.

"Well then, aren't you gonna follow her?"

When Cloud looked back at Aerith, he caught her back; she was already running towards the gate.

"Wait!" Cloud shouted after her, already knowing it'd be futile. "I'll go alone! You go on home!"

Aerith only laughed. Cloud sighed, and followed her into Sector Six.

The Wall Market might have been a cheery place if there'd been sunlight on the numerous stalls and shops and streets. But Sector Six was the darkest sector, nestled in between Five and Seven with no breathing room. Pairs of bloodshot eyes followed Cloud and Aerith as they made their ways through the streets crowded with everything; people, things, shops, air, stench, empty bottles. Aerith didn't falter, but Cloud stepped up closer to her just in case.

They arrived at a crossroad. There was a dress shop with a rack of clothes dangling outside, a huge bar – laughter and smell of alcohol spilling out onto the dimly lit street.

No sign of Tifa.

Aerith looked at him, once, before walking into the Inn. Cloud didn't know what she was looking for; even as he dragged himself into the building, he was hoping that it'd be a dead end. Tifa could have gone anywhere. Anywhere but here.

"Excuse me," he cleared his throat. The receptionist had a sickly sweet smile; some of his teeth were missing.

"May I help you, sir?"

"Is there – a girl named Tifa Lockhart?" Please, no. He could feel Aerith watching him, concerned.

"Hey," the man laughed. "You're here pretty fast. Tifa's our newest girl. But unfortunately, she's in the middle of a – interview, right now." He now grinned, with disturbing effects. "It's – ah, customary, for all the new girls to be taken to Don Corneo's mansion."

"Oh," Cloud managed. Tifa and Barret better have a damn good explanation. "Looks like I gotta go there, then," he muttered.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Only his servants and girls can enter the mansion. Maybe you could," his gaze wandered over to Aerith, who'd been standing a few steps behind. "Ask your lady friend here to check it out for you."

As if he'd make this harder on himself. Cloud pushed Aerith's shoulders out of the place as quickly as possible.

"Hey, I'll go take a look. I'll tell Tifa about you," Aerith said. Cloud hadn't expected any less, but he couldn't let her walk into the mansion. He grabbed her arm quickly before she could go running off again.

"No. You can't."

Aerith looked up at him with half-laughing eyes. "Why not?"

"You know why not," he muttered.

"But you can't just leave Tifa in there."

"I know."

"What're you gonna do? Bust in with guns – sword – blazing?"

Cloud frowned. "There're too many security guards… but I can't let you go in alone, either."

Aerith released herself from Cloud's arm, crossing her own over her chest. Her eyes still had that twinkle, incongruous in the darkest slums in the city. "Well, you know there is a really easy solution to all this."

"What's that?" Cloud asked, looked at her, and suddenly (watching her face distorted with badly suppressed laughter) he knew. "Oh, no."

"It's the only way," she kept her voice even. "You are worried about Tifa, right?"

"But…"

"It'll be all right, Cloud." She said, sweetly, and dragged his hand across the street to a dress shop.

Cloud knew – logically – why he'd gotten into the violet dress and a stuffy wig (he'd had to distance himself first, like he did with small spaces and smell of Mako), but he still couldn't quite get how he'd done it. This was probably the stupidest thing he's done in a line of really stupid things. Except Aerith was laughing a lot all through the makeover (Cloud tried not to dwell too much on how silly it sounded), and maybe that was how.

"I can't believe you'd really do this for a friend!" The woman overseeing this whole – affair – had said, when she heard the story; Aerith's embellished version of it, anyway. "Must be a really important friend, huh?"

"Mm," Cloud managed. It must have been Barret's idea. No one else could have thought of something so spectacularly stupid. "Maybe – I think – it was a really bad idea." He said for the hundredth time. The Madame (she insisted Cloud call her that) and her assistants had another fit of giggles.

"No, no. You look ab-so-lute-ly gorgeous. Isn't that right, girls? Most fun I've had in years!"

"Yeah, but –" This was not about Madame's enjoyment. "Ouch," he winced as one of the girls stuck another pin into his scalp. "Hey, that's my head."

"Sorry, but don't move," she said.

"We won't need too much makeup," Madame announced. "Maybe a little mascara and… something for the lips?"

"You're not getting that – thing – near my eyes," Cloud said. "Or my lips."

"I don't think you need makeup at all," Aerith said, suddenly popping her head in front of Cloud and examining him. He saw that she'd changed too (it'd taken all of five minutes), into a simple red dress; she'd unbraided her hair, wearing it in a long, rippling ponytail.

"Maybe you're right," Madame relented, chuckling. Cloud silently thanked Aerith, who only smiled. "Alright, you're done! See for yourself."

Cloud stood up carefully. The dress was uncomfortable, seeming to wrap around his legs and suffocating them somehow. He was still wearing his normal clothes underneath; he was going to throw the damn dress off the first chance he got. He was a little afraid to look in the mirror, but forced himself to raise his eyes. The Madame and the girls had decided on a shawl (he hadn't needed to know what they were called); a thick grey one big enough to cover all of his upper body and arms. A pair of white gloves to cover his calloused hands. He guessed they were alright; he could imagine it was a blanket or something like that. It was early December, anyway.

He finally looked at his face. Stared, muted in horror.

"This…" Cloud faltered, blinking.

"Yes, Cloud? What do you think?" Aerith was doing a good job keeping a straight face; all the other girls had fallen into an uncontrollable laughing fit. Something choked him. This must be a nightmare, he thought. Please.

"I'm never going out like this," he said.

"What? You look so – nice," Aerith said, finally cracking.

"But you – but I – you're laughing so much!" He protested, obstinately keeping his eyes off the damn mirror. The wig was too heavy on his shoulders.

"It's just – your expression –" Aerith said, in between laughter. "No, but really, you look like a pretty girl, Cloud – Cloudia. Besides, don't you have to go save Tifa?"

He couldn't argue with that. But. "Cloudia?" Aerith only laughed harder. "Alright, fine, but soon as we find her, I'm outta this dress."

"Oh, forget about the money, dear," Madame said when they tried to pay her, wiping a tear of mirth from her eyes. "I had too much fun for that."

He supposed it was one consolation out of all this mess.

"You again? Who are…"He feels tired, of even asking the question.

What are you doing?

"I don't know," Cloud clutches his head, confused. He is standing in a complete blackness that seems to be gnawing on every cell in his body, dying them coal black and finally dissolving them. He wants to get out, but he also wants to know who the voice belongs to. He almost remembers… almost. The voice twists in the darkness, surrounding him, coming at him from all directions.

You can't change anything by just sitting back and looking at it.

"What are you saying?" Cloud looks around, or at least thinks he's looking around. He can't feel his body; all that remains of himself is a mere strand of what might be called a consciousness; drifting… and fragile. So fragile.

It's started moving.

"What has?"

Wake up!

"Cloud? Cloud! Are you okay?"

Cloud opened his eyes to Aerith's voice Someone was shaking him by the shoulder. He felt so dizzy; took a wobbly step forward, almost fell down. Aerith stopped him from falling. The hands turned out to be hers, firm, steadying.

"You looked so pale. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just got dizzy," he muttered. "Must be the wig."

Aerith looked dubious, but let him go. The dim light from the hanging lamp was suddenly too bright for his eyes. Sharp, poking his head like needles. Cloud had a vague memory of some darkness. He didn't like these blackouts (if that was what they were); it was dangerous that he couldn't remember parts of his life. Minutes, maybe hours. He felt, somehow, that there had been a conversation going on somewhere, in a parallel – darkness.

"Come on, we gotta find Tifa," Cloud said, and walked out of the shop. He thought he remembered someone's voice say, You can't change anything.

"We heard that – Don Corneo was looking for girls to work for him?"

Aerith said it like he was looking for someone to organize his calendar or a sock drawer. Cloud composed his face to remain expressionless. Don Corneo's servant, a fat man in a horrible red suit, took one look at them, broke into a snarling grin.

"Oh, yes, ladies. Come in, come in! Two ladies coming through!"

The wig must have worked, Cloud thought dully. He tried to slow his pace, mimicking Aerith's walk.

Another red-suited man, looking like a butler with his bowtie, greeted them at the far end of the hall. "Welcome, ladies," he said, with the similar filthy smile. "I'll go and let the Don know you're here. Wait and don't go wandering around."

They were shown into a pink room (there was really no other word to describe it). Cloud waited for the two sets of footsteps echoing away, then turned to Aerith.

"Now's our chance. Let's find Tifa."

Aerith nodded. The door opened without much noise; they proceeded carefully into the corridor, checking each room. Most of them were empty and similarly pink (all the marble, chandelier, cushions and perfume were beginning to suffocate him); and then they finally found a waiting room of some sort, not too far into the carpeted corridor. Cloud slipped in quickly, recognizing Tifa's back. He was about to walk right up to her, but at the last minute remembered – with a sickening clarity – the face looking back at him in the mirror. He stopped. Aerith swallowed something like laughter and walked past him. She tapped Tifa gently on the shoulder.

"Is it time… huh?" Tifa looked at Aerith, a little confused. Her eyes flickered to Cloud for a second, but didn't linger. Cloud realized with astonishment (and horror) that she didn't recognize him. Not that he blamed her; who'd have thought.

"Hi, Tifa," Aerith held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, finally. I'm Aerith. Cloud's told me a lot about you."

That was a lie, Cloud thought, but kept his mouth shut. Tifa took her hand a little uncertainly.

"Oh, were you the one with Cloud in the park?" So she had seen him. Tifa's face lit up with relief. "Thank God. I thought I was seeing things. So he's okay? Alive and everything?"

"Yes, he's okay," Aerith said. "And – don't worry. We just met by accident. I was helping him find his way to Sector Seven. There's nothing, really, to worry about…"

"What do you mean 'don't worry?'" Tifa said, sounding a little strange. "Cloud and I are childhood friends. Nothing more."

Cloud shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling awkward for some reason.

Aerith laughed. "Poor Cloud. Having to stand here and listen to both of us call him nothing."

"Huh?" Tifa frowned, looking around the room; and then she spotted Cloud. "Cloud?" Her mouth dropped open. A moment of awkward silence passed; Tifa was too shocked, and Cloud too embarrassed, to say anything. Aerith was laughing silently.

"I had no choice," Cloud said weakly. "Believe me."

"But – why – how – no, forget that," she drew a calming breath, composing herself. "What happened? After the fall, I mean. Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm alright," Cloud said. "So – uh – why are you here?"

"It's – I have an explanation."

"You better," Cloud said, gesturing at himself. "I've never felt so stupid in my life."

Tifa finally laughed, then. "Were you worried about me?"

"Why else would I be – like this? So go on, explain."

"Okay, but…" Tifa's eyes flickered to where Aerith stood. Aerith had been looking at them both with a fascination. Catching the drift, she held up her hand and walked away to the other side of the room.

"It's okay, I won't listen," she said.

"Sorry, Aerith," Tifa called after her. Turning to Cloud, her smile quickly disappeared, voice dropping lower. "I'm glad you're okay. I thought… I thought you were dead."

"I know," Cloud tried a smile. "I thought I was dead, too."

A faint smile appeared and disappeared on Tifa's face. Then she went on.

"When we got back from the Number Five Reactor, there was this suspicious-looking little man lurking around the bar. So Barret jumped – I mean, investigated him, for information."

"And that's when the Don's name popped up," Cloud guessed, and Tifa nodded.

"Right. Don Corneo. The man didn't say much, though. He was all rambling – Barret has that effect on people. Barret told me to leave the leech alone, but something's been bothering me."

"I see," Cloud nodded slowly. "So – you wanted to get the story straight from Corneo's mouth."

"Exactly. Corneo's going to choose soon, you know, between the girls. There were supposed to be three –" She stopped herself, realizing.

"I guess now there are," Cloud said.

"She's a civilian," Tifa dropped her voice further down.

"I know. But you try talking her out of things," Cloud said, a little desperate. "I guess we have no choice now."

Tifa looked a little worried, but nodded.

Don Corneo's eyes were gleaming. Cloud wondered (not for the first time) what he was doing here in a dress and wig, being examined by a fat little man with a stuffy breath. His beady eyes rolled between Tifa and Aerith, then finally came to Cloud. Cloud looked away, almost out of reflex.

"Playin' hard-to-get?" Corneo chuckled. It raised goosebumps on Cloud's arms. "Well, okay, I can roll with that. Leave us be."

Corneo waved the guards away. Cloud gave a small nod to Tifa. They waited a minute, just to be sure (all the while the Don was rambling about hard choices and how delighted they make him); when the coast was clear, he ran at the unsuspecting Don.

"Wha–"

He covered the Don's mouth with his palm, while Tifa ran to the door to lock it. Dragging the struggling man to his chair, Cloud felt his wig and shawl falling off; the air felt cool on his skin.

"What the hell…"

"Be quiet, or else…" Tifa held up a finger in front of Corneo's face.

"Y-yeah? What're you gonna do? Kill me? I'm Don Corneo!" He tried laughing, but Cloud saw the uneasiness in his eyes. He took off the dress as quickly as possible (ripping it apart in the process); he turned first to see if she was okay. If she was surprised, she didn't let it show. Then he walked into Corneo's view; Corneo's eyes grew frighteningly large when he saw Cloud.

"You… A man? You tricked me!" Corneo sputtered.

Cloud ignored him, standing with his arms crossed.

"Shut up, we're askin' the questions now." Tifa said, in her best imitation of Barret. Corneo flinched a little, but stuck up his chin.

"Oh? And what makes you think I'd answer, lady?"

"Because," Tifa said, pulling out a dagger from somewhere. "I can hurt you."

Those years with Barret must be paying off now, Cloud thought. He was a little awed, actually, at how Corneo shrank back into his seat. He cleared his throat.

"Look at my eyes, Corneo."

Corneo did, reluctantly. His eyes widened yet again when he recognized the glow of Mako for what it was.

"That's not – you're not –"

"I am. Now, talk."

"So why'd you send that little man snooping around?" Tifa asked. Corneo hesitated, glanced at the sharp blade in Tifa's hand, and answered.

"I – made 'em find out where the man with the gun-arm was living… But, but that wasn't my idea! I was ordered to do it!"

"By who?"

"It was –" Don Corneo shot a hateful look at Cloud before his opened his mouth again. His fingers were twitching all over the place. "It was Heidegger of Shinra, alright? You know, the head of Public Safety Maintenane… And I had no choice! Everybody knows you don't mess with Shinra."

"Shinra?" Cloud felt his stomach tighten at the name. Whenever Shinra was involved, things never turned out right.

"What are they up to?" Tifa asked, a sense of urgency in her voice.

"I know Shinra's trying to crush a small rebel group called AVALANCHE – and they're going to crush them – literally, by breaking the support holding up the plate above them."

"They would do something like that?" It was Aerith, from behind, sounding sickened. "Wipe out the whole Sector for… a group of rebels?"

Tifa had lost her words. Cloud looked at Aerith, at the horror in her eyes.

"Yes," he finally answered. "They would."