The Warrior

Chapter 13

I think this is the largest chapter to date...I hope you've got an ample chunk of time.


Looking through the wired glass window panel into the gray walls of what might be his final resting place, Corporal Midge had a sudden epiphany; no amount of vacation pay was worth the risk of excruciating pain and dismemberment, possibly crucifixion – and that was a good day. His steps leading up to this point had been the sounding of a gong as it announced his final minutes on earth.

Now, he hesitated before the threshold, dreading the last few feet with every fiber of his being. That this was the lesser of two impending dooms only confirmed that he was indeed the most pathetic human being on earth, soon to be in past tense.

And that was saying something.

Corporal Midge shifted back and forth on his feet. Perhaps he would take a wiz first. One last go before the end – a send off of his meager existence into the afterlife.

That thought alone was enough to make a grown man cry. Was that it? He knew he should've brought the last slice of cheesecake with him to work today.

The door burst open with enough force to send the Corporal screaming hysterically at the top of his lungs down the hallway. But not today; today he would be brave. Today he was too paralyzed with abject terror at the receding hairline of the spectacled man standing in the doorway, pure loathing oozing from his sneer, to move.

"What!" Spittle spattered Corporal Midge's visor and he winced. The man's eyes had a truly manic gleam, with fingers taught in preparation to pounce with unrestrained zeal.

"U-uh...uh..." The Corporal's voice was failing him, caught somewhere between his shrinking ball-sacks and the lump of horror forming in the pit of his stomach.

The scientist's gaze narrowed dangerously before he whirled around and slammed the door in the Corporal's face with a harsh utterance of "Imbecile".

Corporal Midge was impressed by his bladder control as the door came perilously close to clipping his nose. No leakage yet.

He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and pushed that door back open with a determination never before experienced by the likes of him. If he was going to die today, by the Gods he would do it with dignity.

Hojo was hunched over what appeared to be a human body with his back turned as Corporal Midge entered. A string of muttering drifted to Midges ears and he closed the door quietly behind him. The scientist did not so much as twitch and continued his tirade without falter.

"Yes, yes...of course I can..." He shifted around the table, making an incision in the body's arm from the inside of the elbow to the wrist. "Just wait...I will show you unimaginative, brain-dead fools...skewer you like the pigs that you are..." There was a burst of deranged laughter as he shoved an implement into the elbow joint of the body with great force, "Then we'll see who is begging...you fat, blithering slob."

Corporal Midge was analyzing the odds in his head that he would survive this encounter and wondering what had possessed him to barge into the lab when a voice interrupted him.

"Speak or get out!" Hojo had somehow come to be staring at him, the gleam possibly even more manic.

"S-sir!" The Soldier offered an absurd salute, gathering his bearings with a swift intake of air that threatened to burst from his lungs in a diarrhea of disorganized words. It was all he could do to remain coherent as he steeled himself for the next part, "I...that is...Sephiroth was spotted at the back entrance to the Deep Ground facility."

Hojo straightened, his eyes hard and appraising as he sized up the uniformed goon, sharp implements held perfectly still in his hands, "When."

"Not 30 minutes ago."

With agonizing slowness Hojo lowered his utensils to the table, oblivious to the Corporal's riveted attention on them. There was an inaudible sigh of relief from the Soldier and an almost imperceptible slackening of his shoulders. He might live through this yet.

Hojo was staring off into space when he spoke, in a slow, ominous drawl that curled under the Corporal's skin, which felt distinctly creepy, "Yes." He set his chin on the knuckles of his fist, his opposite hand bracing his elbow. "Very good, yes."

Corporal Midge straightened with rigidness reminiscent of a piece of lumber. " Sir?" He queried with a quavering voice. Sephiroth's presence had coincided with the incident that left a gaping hole in the backdoor of the facility. How was that good?

"You've done well..." Hojo trailed off with a distasteful look at the Soldier and waved dismissively, "—whoever you are. It doesn't matter. Shoo, and don't forget about our little discussion."

Midge shifted nervously.

The scientist's eyes narrowed, "You do remember, don't you?" He skittered across the room so fast the Corporal's head was still spinning when he found himself looking at his reflection in the man's rounded glasses.

"Y-yes sir!" The Corporal saluted again.

"Not so much as a breath of this information will reach the President's, or anyone else's, ears, yes?" Hojo managed to loom his mere 5'7 height over Midge's respectable 6'2 with a vengeance worthy of Sephiroth himself.

Creepy.

A lump bobbed in Corporal Midge's throat that he was fervently grateful didn't show beneath his collared uniform. "Of course, sir." Another salute – his arm seemed to be rather active today.

"Now get out of my sight."

The back of Hojo's lab coat was still imprinted on Corporal Midge's brain as he fled the lab. He ran and kept running, no distance being safe enough to quench his fear. Not until he was well and secure at his post, monitoring the General on the big flat screen and playing Spider Solitaire on the side, did he pause to revel in the novelty that was breathing.

Tifa's feet moved of their own volition, a hollow cadence to the deafening beat of her heart. The turmoil of emotions that whirled through her had left in their wake an empty detachment. More than once she looked back, long gone though he was, while the wings of fate set her adrift farther yet from the one person she wanted desperately to be near to.

Ahead of her Sephiroth stalked wordlessly. He had been putting more distance between them while she slowed exponentially with each step. The urge to turn and run was strong still.

But Avalanche wanted her here so this is where she stayed.

She released a shuddering breath and lifted her head to the back of the man in front of her. His coat billowed behind him as his gaze parted the sea of frantic people littering the street. The tight set of his shoulders advised her to remain quiet because whatever it was that had set him off was not out of his system just yet.

He had snapped at her. The transformation was sudden and startling, and surprisingly...upsetting. Why? At one time Tifa would've happily devised any number of satisfying ways in which to incite his wrath, but now that she had, it brought her no joy and it certainly was not satisfying.

She didn't even know why he was angry with her!

At least they were making good time. Tifa could smell something faint in the air like burning rubber and rotting eggs, and the throngs of people were growing in size. They were getting closer – too late to be of any use probably, but then they had all been too late to this disaster.

The people in the streets seemed not to notice them at first, with their attention directed towards the core of the damage up ahead, but Sephiroth was an impossible figure to miss or ignore. She saw it an instant too late and the bottle missed by inches as it sailed past his head to shatter on the curb. Everything came to a standstill in the concurring silence.

Tifa whirled around in a vain attempt to locate the perpetrator. "Hey!" She shouted indignantly though no one was about to volunteer themselves. "What was that for?!"

"Some General you are." A voice bit out. "Where were you when they set the bomb this time? Getting your hair done?"

Those words dropped upon the tense silence like a pin, lingering for a few choice seconds, and then pandemonium broke out.

"You coward!"

Someone shoved Tifa between the shoulder blades and knocked her sprawling into a crowd of people. Hands grabbed and pulled, pinched and punched at whatever they could find. She felt her helm shift and reached up frantically to slam it back down, which hurt, but her identity was momentarily saved.

"Go back to the salon, coward!"

"Did you forget to get your nails done?"

It was a battle just keeping her feet underneath her. She elbowed, ducked, and shoved her way through, sometimes throwing bodies out of her way, until she reached where she'd last seen Sephiroth. There was no sign of him and with her diminutive height amidst this writhing mob she was not likely to ever get one.

They pressed in around her on all sides, clouding her senses with the pungent odor of sweat and fear. She staggered, nearly falling to her knees, but grappled frantically to keep her balance. To fall here would undoubtedly be a death sentence – she had never seen the like.

In her increasing panic, Tifa called out to him, but her voice was lost in the deafening cacophony of shouting. She felt as light as air, tossed about on the tide of furious hands. They were not paying attention to her, but to move her out of the way.

He was the one they wanted.

A hand clamped around her bicep suddenly and she jerked around, ready to bolt, when she met cat pupils and iridescent green. She was instantly overcome with relief and relaxed. He gripped her hard, almost painfully, and regarded her with a pointed look.

Tifa nodded mutely and kept close to his back as he turned and lead the way through the masses. No one tried to stop him, though the jeers and taunts continued at full force. But while they might question his courage, no one was eager to make themselves a test subject to his capabilities as a fighter.

There was a man up ahead of them to the right with graying hair and a curled lip. She didn't know why she took notice of him, except that something in his hateful stare alarmed her. If she hadn't been struck by that sudden feeling, she never would have known it was him who spoke as they passed.

"All yer good for is killin' unarmed folks, eh?" The man sneered.

Sephiroth stopped so sharply she might have careened into him had she not been slightly prepared for something to go terribly awry. She glanced apprehensively between the two, hands tensing at her sides.

"What did you say?" Sephiroth regarded the man sharply.

"Easy guttin' them's unarmed." The man continued harshly. "Just like ye did them poor folks in Nibelheim, eh? Easy when them don't fight back."

There was a split second wherein a look of absolute horror flitted across Sephiroth's face. It was gone in the blink of an eye, a cold, pitiless mask in its place as he gazed down at the man. Tifa saw the way he was strangling the life out of the hilt of his sword though, saw the way his eyes were brittle enough to shatter.

"I do not know what—"

The man spit in his face. He didn't even let Sephiroth finish – he just spit in his face!

Tifa reacted without thinking and the next thing she knew the man was out cold on the pavement. In the ensuing silence she grabbed Sephiroth by the arm and tugged him away without looking back. She couldn't recall a time when she'd hit a person harder.

And he hadn't even been armed.

It was merciful blessing that Sephiroth allowed her to lead him away. The mob, it seemed, had lost its enthusiasm and was falling back. She wanted nothing more than to be gone from this place, despite what lay ahead.

She perhaps should've been more disturbed by the realization that she was looking forward to the death and destruction that awaited them as opposed to what they'd just come out of. But none of them knew what their carelessness might have caused. She didn't know for that matter, but she wasn't taking any chances. He'd gone mad once – he could do it again at the slightest provocation.

If Sephiroth had an intention of asking her about it though, he ran out of time when Angeal spotted them from down the way. Two of the Turks were standing where he'd just left to come meet her and her charge. The shadow over his face darkened considerably as he looked at his friend.

"Where were you?" He demanded in a hushed tone laced with carefully contained fury. His gaze shifted momentarily to Tifa and the crevices of his brow deepened.

"Investigating," was Sephiroth's scathing reply, accentuated by a meaningful stare.

The two men held each other's gaze for several tension filled seconds before Angeal finally broke it off. He spared a second glance her way, confusion still muddling his troubled eyes, but he said nothing. "Right," His shoulders seemed to give beneath an invisible weight as he turned away, "Come on then."

Only one of the Turks remained when they followed Angeal back. Tifa recognized him as their current head, but it was her first time seeing him in the flesh. His face was a mask, smooth as porcelain and just as unmoving. If it were possible, he looked even less emotionless in person than he did in his photos.

A shiver traveled down Tifa's spine; he reminded her of an empty husk. She averted her gaze slowly and hoped that this conversation was quick. As a flunky she wasn't required to do talking, nor was she likely to draw much attention...except for the fact that she was currently Sephiroth's flunky.

"Who is this?" Tseng asked immediately.

The panic widening Tifas eyes was thankfully hidden behind her helmet. Her boots made a scraping sound as she shifted her feet, her head bowed towards the ground out of nervous habit. She fought the urge to put her hands behind her back and worry them.

"He's my trainee." Sephiroth cut in smoothly and with a supercilious tilt of his chin in her direction, added, "And he was just heading back to Head Quarters."

Her jaw fell open indignantly at him and she was preparing to protest when he leveled her with a emphatic glare. She cleared her throat nervously and tried to quell the tremble working its way up her throat, "Yes sir." It came out more like a mumble, but no one was grading her on her execution.

He had better not.

Then she turned around and made her escape.

On the train back Tifa pulled out her phone. It was brimming with messages that eagerly beamed up at her from the screen. Her lips thinned as she skimmed the list of names.

Ah, Murphy.

Date Received .......

Dead? Oh...

It was the most poignant message the mystery person had sent her, as well as the briefest. Tifa felt something settle in her bones, like a cold foreboding draft. Just as the dark cloud that seemed to hang perpetually over Angeal's head, so did it clench in her chest.

What kind of evil could be so dark?

The train ground to a halt in front of Shin-Ra's Head Quarters and Tifa stepped down onto the empty platform. No one was coming or going right then, perhaps because they were all out combing the city for signs of the resistance. It didn't matter.

She peered up at the towering building for a long time with growing unease. It occurred to her that the odds of her surviving this entire ordeal were probably well under fifty percent. A shuddering breath clouded the evening air; there was really only one person who had the power to keep her alive.

And it seemed as though he might try, to the detriment of his health – possibly his life.

None of it made any sense. How did she even warrant his consideration? She was nobody. What could be his ulterior motive in helping her?

Tifa pushed her way through the glass doors into the building and headed towards the stairs. Raised voices drew her attention towards the reception desk and she cocked her head curiously at the discussion taking place. She wasn't supposed to take notice, but then, if the argument escalated much further she might be called forth to escort someone out.

That someone being the man with short, sandy blonde hair and a pair of flight goggles pushed up around his hair line. He wore a blue jacket with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a scarf around his neck, like one of those old time pilots she'd seen in pictures as a child. His leather gloved hands gestured wildly as his voice rose in volume.

"What do ya mean he's busy?!" He leaned over the desk menacingly, a cigarette dangling precariously from the corner of his mouth. It bounced with every word, dropping ash onto the table, which the stewardess eyed with intense displeasure. "The meeting was arranged 2 months ago!"

"I'm sorry sir," The woman said with strained politeness, "but you must have seen the damages – everyone is working very hard. You will just have to wait I'm afraid."

"Wait!" He repeated with a bark of harsh laughter and thrust an accusing finger in her face, "I've been waiting for five fucking years!"

The woman huffed, her bobbed blonde hair bouncing indignantly, "I understand your concern, Mr. Highwind, but there is nothing I can do at this time. If you would please leave the name and number of your hotel, I will have someone contact you as soon as Mr. Tuesti is free to see you."

"How long might that be?" Mr. Highwind inquired menacingly.

"Not more than a day I should think." She replied primly. Her sharp blue eyes pierced him thoroughly, "Is that acceptable?"

Mr. Highwind acknowledged her with a grunt as he grabbed a notepad from the counter and hastily scribbled the requested information. When he finished he handed it back to her without a word and turned to go.

"Thank you sir."

Tifa was in the process of moving again when the man caught her staring. He snatched the cigarette from his mouth with scowl, "What are you lookin' at?" he snapped. The words had barely left his mouth before he was on his way with not so much as a glance back.

Her gaze followed him out curiously. She hadn't seen many civilians about, let alone anyone from out of town. What business did he have with Shin-Ra that brought him so far from home?

"They cut his space program five years ago." The receptionists offered.

Tifa glanced at the front desk in surprise, but the lady had already gone back to whatever she was doing. No more information seemed forthcoming, so she mounted the stairs and made for the elevator. She didn't know if Sephiroth still intended to hold his class tonight, but with him she couldn't assume anything.

There was enough time to grab a bite to eat at the food court and then head to the simulator to wait. She was nearly half an hour early, so when the operating room turned out to be occupied she was suitably startled. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"How did you get here so fast?" She exasperated.

His back was to her, but he lifted his head a fraction at her words, "I only just arrived." He murmured distractedly as he perused the simulator's settings.

Tifa wandered up beside him hesitantly, "What did they say?"

"What did who say?"

"Angeal and Tseng." She clarified.

"Nothing of value." Sephiroth answered languidly.

Tifa fought to contain a huff of impatience, "That's all? You didn't get in trouble?"

He leveled her with a scowl, "I do not answer to either of them, nor do I get in trouble, as you so eloquently put it. Do I look like a juvenile delinquent to you?"

She had to hide behind the collar of her uniform, not trusting herself to speak. Her silence was deafening.

Sephiroth positively glowered at her, "Am I to assume that's a yes?" He inquired with an arched brow, his body looming over hers in an imposing manner.

It was meant to be imposing at any rate, but all Tifa could think about was how close in proximity he was to her and the sudden heat flooding the room. She inhaled shakily, glad that her eyes were partially hidden. If they hadn't been she was certain his would have peeled back her defenses like the skin of a ripe mango.

As it were he caught himself and straightened stiffly. "I see." He muttered and turned back to the computer panel.

"No." She said quickly. He didn't look up so she continued. "I don't think that. It's just...you seem the type that might have engaged in a few minor transgressions as a teenager – I thought it funny."

He made a noncommittal sound that might have been an acknowledgement or a dismissal, she wasn't sure. A minute or so passed before he finished what he was doing and averted his attention back to her. His expression was alarmingly...contemplative.

"Who was he?"

The question totally blindsided her. "What?"

"The young man in the street – he was wearing a SOLDIER 1st class uniform." Sephiroth indicated more sharply than was necessary. "You knew him."

Tifa worked her jaw mutely. What could she say? But her hesitation had already spoken too much and she could see it in the way he watched her. If she didn't say anything he might come to his own conclusions.

"Y-yes." She managed awkwardly, her brow knitting together as she puzzled that quandary. "I know him...kind of."

"Kind of?" He echoed dubiously.

She gripped her wrist in the opposite hand behind her back and took great interest in the wall behind him. "I don't know him very well but...we grew up together."

"And should I expect hostility?" Sephiroth continued with a sigh of resignation.

Tifa looked away despondently, "Probably – I don't really know though, how much he remembers of..."

"Nibelheim."

Her eyes met his sharply, "Yes."

"That man–"

"—was obviously senile." Tifa supplied evenly. "Don't worry about it."

He watched her with a perceptiveness that was unnerving, but he said nothing, for which she was grateful. There was no helping the fact that he now suspected something of what happened, but he didn't remember, and that was key. She wouldn't tell him if her life depended on it either.

"It's almost time." Tifa announced unnecessarily.

She desperately wanted to guide the topic of discussion to more tame waters. This bizarre sort of intimacy was starting to draw attention to more than she was willing to contemplate right then. His eyes, for instance, should not be appealing whatsoever, nor should the way he in which was looking at her leave her feeling breathless.

Sephiroth turned away and the moment was gone. "Yes." He concurred and made for the door to the Simulator, where he hesitated in order to say, "As a forewarning – I intend to make you a team captain."

"You…you can't be serious." He had already disappeared, forcing her to chase him down with the might of her fury.

He smiled wickedly as he faced her abruptly, "Oh, but I am."

"Why?!" Her voice gained an octave.

"This was your idea. I expect you to own up to your claims." Sephiroth replied.

"My idea?!" Tifa demanded and took an involuntary step towards him. "I said that you should try being a leader for a change!"

"And you," He lowered his nose to the shield of her visor, "Will be my second in command."

Tifa back stepped. "I'm…I'm not a leader." She complained weakly. "I can't be your second in command."

He arched a single brow, "One good deed deserves another, yes?"

She squirmed in puzzlement, "I don't understand."

Sephiroth swept past her, "You want me to lead, so I will lead, and I will teach you to do the same in return."

"But—"

He stopped and looked at her sternly, "You are more than capable of this task." His voice shook her with its resonance, "Do you mean to say that you are too afraid to try?"

Tifa swallowed hard at the implication therein and shook her head an infinitesimal amount, "No."

"Good." Sephiroth nodded curtly, before adding in afterthought, "And Fry?"

She blinked up at him, uncertain at his use of her fake name, "Yes?"

"Just between you and I," His eyes flashed and he leaned over her shoulder, his mouth hovering by her ear, though it was concealed by her helm, "I do not bat for the other team."

Tifa couldn't help the smile she wore as he pulled back to look at her face on again. "Of course not sir."

It was ten till when the first arrivals came through the door looking distinctly uncomfortable. There were five in the first group, none of which she recognized. Some of them were 3rd class Soldiers, all of them were quiet as they regarded the Legend.

There were 21 people standing within the Simulator when the clock ticked 7:00 p.m., she and Sephiroth included. Tifa's presence had not gone unnoticed, but aside from a few lingering glances nothing was said. She tried to stand apart from the procession as much as possible, waiting.

Sephiroth did a quick roll call before addressing the group as they waited with varying degrees of anticipation. "These sessions," He began, "will consist of group battle tactics training. The idea is to improve your skills as leaders and followers, to work as a team, and to build trust between you and your comrades."

A restless silence broke out as he paused, looking each of them over critically. The gentle creak of leather and scuff of a boot were the only sounds heard, their eyes following him with ardent interest. He did not disappoint.

"There will be two teams." He wiggled his middle and index fingers for them to see, "I will assign to each a captain."

The group was collectively holding their breath. Meanwhile Tifa cowered behind her visor and now pursed her lips disapprovingly, soon to be in terror. This was a terrible idea. No one was going to listen to her – they all thought she was loopy.

But Sephiroth wouldn't have that and from the look he shot her, he was not going to have any complaints from her either. "There will be no arguing in this matter. You will show proper respect and cooperation for whomever I choose, understood?"

There was a resonating chorus of, "Yes Sir."

He paced in front of them, hands clasped behind his back. When he stopped and turned to address them again, he called her name, "Fry. Step forward please."

Tifa took a deep breath and walked slowly to stand next to him before risking a glance at her fellow Soldiers. Their helms, though hiding their expressions, were all tuned to her. A tightening of a jaw or the wrinkling of a nose was the only indication of unrest.

"You will lead Team A." Sephiroth announced and looked over the procession, daring them to speak out against his decision. When nothing came, he continued, "And I will lead Team B."

Tifa cast him a look of pure vitriol, but he was carefully not looking at her. Of course he waited to drop that bomb on her when she wasn't in a position to protest. Not without severe repercussions at any rate.

"Sir," Someone had finally worked up the nerve to speak.

Sephiroth regarded the Soldier calmly, "Yes?"

The man shifted uncomfortably under that penetrating stare, "Is that really fair?"

"That is what we are here to find out." He returned. "If I am given reason to believe that either of us is unworthy of the task, I will make changes accordingly. Until then, you will do as your respective captain commands."

"Yes Sir." The Soldier replied quietly.

"Now then, if there are no more questions, you, Fry," He emphasized her nickname with a scowl, "Will choose first."

She stared hopelessly into the unreadable masks of SOLDIERs she'd never seen before and was at a loss. How was she supposed to know who to pick? Her lips parted in a muddled groan as she skimmed over each one, taking into account every arbitrary attribute that might help this go a little faster.

Her first choice was one of the taller ones, but it was his posture that ultimately decided it. His shoulders were broad and his posture impeccably straight. Completely arbitrary, but he looked good. The SOLDIER in question joined her side without a word and turned to face the others.

They continued back and forth, until all present were spoken for. Sephiroth was left a man short, but this seemed not to bother him and he made no mention of it as he set up the Simulator. He pulled her aside one last time then.

"The object of the game," He told her, "is to defeat all of the opposing team's members, or capture their captain." His lips frame a devious smirk, "Good luck with that."

"How are we supposed to 'defeat' someone?" She asked coolly.

"You will see." And that was that.

The Simulator shifted to an outdoor setting of an uneven landscape littered with trees and tall shrubbery. There would be lots of cover, Tifa noted. She and her team were standing in a small clearing, each of them bearing a green ribbon around their arms. Her eyes drifted to the ground at her feet where they screeched to a halt.

"Oh my god..." She couldn't help herself as she stooped to retrieve the object in question; it was a paintball gun. There was also a back pack, which turned out to be filled with paintballs, naturally.

When she straightened and turned, she found herself faced with ten expectant visors.

Tifa had to wonder how Sephiroth was going to teach her to be a leader when he was currently across the map from her, but she digressed. He was clearly a fan of trial and error. Specifically the 'throw them into an impossible situation and force them to figure it out' kind.

"Alright," Tifa sighed inwardly and cast a wary glance at the surrounding teams. "Who here feels comfortable climbing trees?"

And so the game began.

They had all listened to her, some more reluctantly than others. She had no idea what she was doing, but that didn't seem to matter. It took nearly three hours to determine the victor, and that came down to an unscrupulous shot to the back.

Sephiroth still wasn't speaking to her.

In Tifa's defense, it had been a long shot, but that's what you got for making a long ranged weapon the instrument of attack where your opponent was trained in sniping. It just went to show that what she said was right; he was an inexperienced leader.

Not that she really thought any less of him for it – he was still incredibly skilled with a sword, but this wasn't about combat skills. This was about tactics, and she had won with a lucky shot to the back to capture the opposing team's leader. Up to that point they had been easily matched, four against four.

It felt strange. Sephiroth wasn't supposed to lose, not at anything.

On the bright side, Tifa had secured the majority of her team's trust with their narrow victory. There was no slandering or jeering and they left the Simulator in high spirits. She watched them go, lingering behind as the last of the class filed out the door.

...which left her with him.

"And you say you cannot lead." It was neither encouraging nor unkind. He left then, without another word, and never looked back.

Tifa felt inexplicably small inside that empty room; small, and disappointed. The sudden realization that she had actually looked forward to talking to him again was sobering. That wasn't supposed to happen!.

Evidently it had...

And now he was angry with her for the second time in one day. She didn't even want to lead! It had been pure luck that she beat him at all! But Sephiroth was not accustomed to losing under an circumstances. How much had it cost him?

Tifa sighed and removed her helm, running her fingers through her hair.

After a time she returned to the control room, replacing her helm. She fiddled around with the settings until she'd found what she wanted and then re-entered the Simulator. It was a wide expanse of grassy plains with a shooting range and a mock sniper rifle.

She didn't feel like going back for hers right then and she hadn't practiced in a while.

Nearly an hour had gone by when the hydraulic door slid open. She turned in surprise with a surge of hope and was summarily deflated. The figure standing rigidly in the door way was almost her reflection, but for the 3rd class uniform, a few more inches of height, and the assault rifle currently pointed at her chest.

His visor was down, but hers she realized – too late – was not. She couldn't see through the scope with her visor down and had not thought to put it back when she turned around. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"What in the fuck?" He shoved up his visor, greatly resembling a goosed chicken as he gawked at her. The assault rifle was all but forgotten in his hands as it sagged towards the floor.

By now Tifa recognized him as the SOLDIER that had accosted her in the food court a while back – Dev was his name. She had never seen him, but his voice was familiar, not to mention his charming disposition.

She was afraid to move. On the one hand, he might fill her full of holes regardless of her gender – on the other, he might turn her in, which would be just as bad, if not worse. There was no good way to go about this.

Dev shook his head in disbelief. "You've got to be shittin' me. Take that off," He gestured to her helmet lazily.

Tifa complied reluctantly. Her hair was still held back by a hairnet, but there was no mistaking what she was. She removed that too after a moment, allowing her hair to fall loosely about her shoulders.

He snorted, threw back his head, and burst out laughing. "Of all the—are you insane?!"

Her lips thinned. "What did you come here for?"

Dev made a face, "Nothin'." He shrugged. "Just thought I'd give ya a little warning is all."

"A beating you mean." Tifa clarified crisply.

"Hey I don't hit girls." He shot back defensively.

Now it was her turn to laugh. "That's rich." She said. "You don't hit girls, but it's perfectly okay to beat the daylights out of some poor kid who you think isn't man enough."

"It's bad enough Sephiroth being a fucking homo," He shot back, "we don't need more of their kind around here."

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, "I'd like to see you say that to his face."

"Of course," He continued snidely, "maybe you did suck him off after all to get in his good graces."

The door opened again, providing Tifa her window of opportunity. She closed the distance in three swift strides, disarmed him, and with an apologetic glance at the person that had just arrived (who happened to be Angeal), punched Dev square in the mouth – knocked loose a tooth too. He hit the floor with a strangled cry and spitting blood, while Tifa pivoted to face her superior officer.

A black tuxedo cat trotted up behind him to sit at Angeals feet, eyes half-lidded and smug.

Angeal looked from her to Dev, and back to her in stunned silence. He blinked once, twice, raked back his hair with a harsh expulsion of air, and shook his head. Then he rubbed his eyes, just to make sure that what he thought he saw was what he saw, which didn't help in the least bit either.

The fat was in the fire and sizzling madly.

"Sir, I—"

Angeal held up his hand, silencing her and turned to the man still writhing on the floor. "Dev," He barked, "Meet me in my office tomorrow morning at 0900 hours. Get yourself to the infirmary."

Dev got to his feet, eying Tifa warily as he staggered through the door and left.

Her heart rate must have broken records. Was it possible to self-combust? That might be preferable under the present circumstances.

Angeal didn't say anything for a long time. His arms were crossed over his chest as he took great interest in the floor, fingers tapping a rhythm on his arm. When he lifted his head the harsh lines of his face relaxed, eyes bright and clear.

"I don't know what alarms me more, Miss Lockhart." He said, "You being a woman, or the fact that I didn't see it sooner."

She smiled wanly, "People really do tend to see what they expect."

"You did the part well."

"But not well enough." What now she wondered?

Angeal contemplated her curiously, "Why would you say that?"

Tifa blinked up at him, confused, "You know who I am, don't you?"

"Yes, I know." He admitted and looked away shamefaced. "I saw you that night in the Reactor. You were unconscious."

"You saved him." It was not an accusation.

Agneal nodded solemnly.

"Why?"

He looked away and a shadow passed over his face, "He is the closest thing to a family I have left. A sad reality perhaps, under the circumstances."

A pertinent meow interrupted them as Sodlier draped his body against Angeal's leg. He looked up with a clearly affronted expression.

Tifa caught herself smiling a little. "Are you sure about that?" She inquired lightly.

He chuckled dryly and stooped to pick up his charge, rubbing affectionately behind the cat's ears as he straightened. "Well, perhaps not all."

She was surprised at the calm that came over her as she spoke again, "I understand you know...and I don't blame you for it."

Angeal made a grim smile, "You may yet eat those words I'm afraid."

She nodded.

He turned to her abruptly, "I have a favor to ask of you. You needn't feel pressured to accept – I will keep your secret regardless, but..."

Her head cocked to one side, "What do you need?"

Angeal he cleared his throat, his eyes having trouble focusing on her, "I cannot save him." He said quietly, "But you... I have never seen him so... intense about anyone before – he is drawn to you, for some reason."

Tifa felt her heart constrict in her chest and suddenly she couldn't breathe. Some part of her had felt it, yes, but having it told to her face by an outside observer gave it reality. And how did she feel about it?

"If he can be saved," He continued, "I would see it done. Whatever you might think, he's worth it, you know."

"I know." She murmured.

Angeal met her eyes with a glimmer of hope, "Will you help him?"

"I'll do my best, Angeal."

On one of Shin-Ra HQ's many floors there was a dark, not quite empty, corridor. The dormitories were quiet, but not silent, for there was a murmur of cautious footfall and nervous breathing. It moved towards the last door at the far end of the hall.

There was also the muttering commentary of a colorful nature floating from the slight figure standing at that very same door to which, unbeknownst to said figure, another approached.

Anxiety shook the fingers that pried into the control panel on the wall to the left of the door. Spools of wire spilled out in bright colors as the aluminum cover was pulled away. Well that wasn't helpful. Why couldn't they just stick with three colors like normal people did?

How was she supposed to effectively hotwire anything with a mess like this?

A huff of indignation cut the still air and tousled her black bangs where they scraped her forehead. She fought the temptation to stomp her foot and grabbed a random wire, fully prepared to snip it.

"You could try knocking."

"AHHH!" She spun around, executed a juke that would have made her dad proud, and pounced with a vengeance on the tall figure that had snuck up behind her.

"Hey! What the—" The male person in question swerved into the wall under the sudden weight of the scrawny creature attached to his back like a leach. "Get off me!" He hissed.

Was she growling? He shook himself and reached up to toss her off – he was reasonably sure it was a she at any rate. He hadn't heard many men with that ability to shriek.

Small, but vice like hands, caught his wrist. Then there were teeth and a sudden explosion of pain where they dug into the outside edge of his hand.

"Ouch!" He staggered into the opposite wall with a resonating thud, incidentally crushing his rider's leg between his body and the wall, which allowed him to extract his hand from her mouth. "Stop that!"

"What are ya doin' here ya sneaky Shin-Ra scum!" She cried out defiantly and yanked at his hair.

"Sneaky—" His eyes watered and he grappled for her arms again in bewildered indignation, "I'm not hotwiring someone's door at 2:45 in the morning – Hold it down dammit!"

She squirmed out of his grasp, her legs still firmly wrapped around his waist. "Oh yeah?!" She retorted suspiciously, "Then what are ya doin' here!"

"I was going to knock on the door like respectable people do." He grumbled. "Let go of my hair you crazy banshee! You'll have the whole bloody building on top of us!"

"Quit yelling then!"

"Get off me!"

"I'm goin' in there first!"

"By all means! Off. Now!"

"Fine."

The sheets were gone. Where had the sheets gone? They must have gotten pulled off in her sleep, or maybe Sephiroth had just removed them.

What was he doing here anyway? And why were they in the same bed?

Tifa shifted uncomfortably. Something was pulling on her hair. She reached back, grasping the thick braid it was in and shaking it. It behaved like it was caught on something, pulling against her head, and it was longer than she remembered.

Since when did she braid her hair?

She twisted around irritably. Then it really pulled and she suddenly understood why.

Perfect silver strands wove seamlessly with her brown ones. His back was to her in slumber, oblivious to this awkward state of affairs. Someone had braided their hair together in the night.

In a distant part of her mind she wondered why the fact that sharing a bed with Sephiroth didn't alarm her. This was perfectly normal, apparently. In fact, she was far more disturbed that someone had evidently snuck into their room while they were asleep.

"So what are ya doin' here?"

It had to have been Chaka. Only Chaka would do something so ridiculously silly and hope to survive Sephiroth's wrath.

"What are you doing here?"

But Chaka was out on a mission. He wasn't supposed to get back until tomorrow...or was it the next day? He couldn't have done it. Had their hair braided itself?

"I asked first!"

Tifa toyed with waking Sephiroth to ask him if he had done it when a loud banging sound interrupted her. The body beside her went slightly rigid in wakefulness. There was an incoherent groan, followed by a sleepy slur.

"Wha-iz-it now?"

The banging intensified in volume and urgency.

"Why don't ya just break it?"

Tifa fought with her sleepiness, only half aware that the sound reverberating through her ears was not a figment of her dreamscape.

"I can't."

Sephiroth sat up wide awake then, looking grouchy and perplexed, mumbling. She hadn't understood a word of it.

"Hahahahaha! Some SOLDIER you are."

"I'll get it," Tifa and Sephiroth had spoken at the same time as they both jumped up from the bed.

Their hair went taught with a jerk.

And Tifa crashed to the floor with a muffled exclamation of surprise, her eyes wide and sleep ridden. Relief flooded her senses as her room came into focus. The same small bunk, her uniform discarded at the foot of it, and most importantly, no silver haired men.

Just another dream, she repeated, knocking her head lightly against her knuckles as she tried fervently to erase the image currently burned into her brain.

"Not to mention," There was someone outside her door whispering. "Someone's bound to notice if we just tore the door down."

She jumped out of her skin when her door erupted with an insistent pounding again. Tifa was on her feet instantly and glancing frantically around for an escape that wasn't there. Maybe if she pretended she wasn't here?

There was a curse from outside the door then, "Damn it, Fry!" The familiar voice rippled across her skin with a shiver, "Get your lazy ass up!"

"Chaka?" She blurted out. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be back until tomorr—."

"Yeah! What are you doing here?!" Came another voice.

"Would you shut up?!" He shot back at his squeaky companion, "Fry, I swear I'll explain everything – I'll shave my head and bear your babies—" There was a distinct edge of panic in his voice that disturbed her, "—if you'll just open the goddamn door."

"Wait a second—" The squeaky voice interjected before Tifa could even begin to formulate a reply, "You're gonna have someone's babies?!"

Oh dear...

Author's Notes: Have I mentioned that this story is going to be really long? Because it's definitely going to be long. Which brings to question why it's taking such a god-awful long time for me to update it. Must...work...faster...

I hope this was worth the wait. I may take forever, but no one can say I shirk in the word-count department! Happy Holidays everybody - you're the best!

Review? Pretty please? With a ginormous cherry on top?

Faerlyte