Angeal and his copies had been experimented on enough, Zack thought bitterly, but he knew Sephiroth merely meant conversation, not dissection or dismemberment. He'd just been careless with his words, that was all.


"They don't seem to want to leave, do they?" Zack said, sitting on a cloth to protect him from the cold earth. He fiddled with some camp dishes and ration packs for breakfast and glanced nervously at the A-Ahrimans perching around the edges of the campsite. The monsters made no threats. They just stared at Zack and at Sephiroth.

It was disconcerting.

Was Angeal really in them, like in some weird kind of group or hive mind? Zack inspected the monsters, all wearing Angeal's face framed in gold on their foreheads, and shifted his gaze to Angeal's container, sitting on the ground between him and Sephiroth. Maybe they were really staring at Angeal.

Zack contemplated the quiescent face within the specimen container and thought, I prayed for you, Angeal. I couldn't go back to sleep after your copies showed up, and it was almost morning anyway, so I prayed. I never really believed the old myths, but I prayed to whoever might listen, even to Genesis's Loveless Goddess, that you stayed unconscious in your jar. If you are somehow awake in your copies' minds, I hope it isn't too traumatizing...

Sephiroth's elegant voice interrupted Zack's terrible line of thought, answering the rhetorical question, "They remain because they want to be with Angeal."

"Yeah, I get that," Zack said, looking up, grateful for the distraction, "but they can't stay with us. They'll give us away. I mean, who travels with six Ahrimans tagging along? That's not exactly inconspicuous."

"I agree."

Wasn't that nice? Sephiroth agreed with him. Lovely.

"We'll think of something," Sephiroth said. "They might be amenable to requests. We'll need to experiment a little."

Angeal and his copies had been experimented on enough, Zack thought bitterly, but he knew Sephiroth merely meant conversation, not dissection or dismemberment. He'd just been careless with his words, that was all. Though he had once speculated about using copies as spare parts to build Angeal a temporary body. Was it a crazy idea, or coldly sane? Could it even work?

Zack couldn't bear it. Not these copies. Not these. Aside from Angeal's head, they were his last surviving parts. They'd saved Zack. They deserved to live. They were all connected with Angeal, maybe they carried his thoughts, and maybe even some of his soul?

In silence, Zack busied himself with breakfast. He poured packages of ready-to-eat scrambled eggs, veggies, and savory rice porridge into a bowl and stirred them into a cold, gloppy mess. A dash of hot sauce and the meal was ready. He dished out half the eggs into a smaller bowl and handed it to his companion. The companion that had hands, not the one that was a head in a jar, and not the ones that were altered monsters.

Right. Zack shook his head a little. His life was so screwed up.

The A-Ahrimans watched every move, though they also kept checking on Sephiroth's "Dull, Mousy Brown" hair, which even to Zack looked weird in the morning light. Brown instead of silver-gray. It didn't belong on him. Especially not "Dull, Mousy Brown." Sephiroth was too flashy for that color to ever look right on him. But that was the point, wasn't it? To avoid standing out and to stay unnoticeable? The boring color didn't clash with his skin coloring and it disguised his identity better than a mask. Too bad his eyebrows were still gray, but they weren't really conspicuous. Lots of people had light colored eyebrows. Add in grungy clothes and dark glasses to hide his brows and his strange eyes, and the disguise was almost complete.

"We still need to cut your hair, Sephiroth," Zack said.

Zack heard some coughing, raspy laughter from the A-Ahrimans.

"I would rather not," Sephiroth said politely. He scooped up some breakfast glop with a spoon and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed rather aggressively and swallowed.

"Honestly, we should have cut it before you dyed it. Would have been less work that way."

Sephiroth grumbled.

Zack added, "Hair that long isn't fashionable for men right now. Even dyed, it's still noticeable. People would stare."

"Like the Ahrimans stare?"

Zack smiled a little. "Exactly like the Ahrimans." He sobered. "If the wrong people decide to look too closely, they'll know it's you. You can't keep stuffing it in hats forever, and hair down to your knees will give you away for sure. You know that, right? It doesn't have to be, like, a buzz cut or anything. Shoulder length should be fine."

Sephiroth sighed and relented. "Very well, then. We shall cut it off, but only to shoulder length."

As one, six A-Ahrimans laughed.

"Shut up, Angeal," said Sephiroth, with resignation rather than heat. He ate more of his breakfast.

Still sniggering with breathy huffs, the A-Ahrimans gave one another knowing looks. Zack wondered what they were thinking. It was obvious that they could think, at least a little. Why else laugh at Sephiroth? He shot a quick glance at Angeal's face. Angeal's eyes were closed, his visage relaxed and still. Not even a twitch enlivened it. He was sleeping, comatose. Otherwise, he'd laugh at Sephiroth's fussing, just like the monsters.

Maybe he was laughing through the monsters. Again Zack uneasily wondered if he was really asleep and as unaware as Sephiroth claimed. Zack gritted his teeth. Either way, there was nothing to be done about it.

Worried (was he ever not worried anymore?), he inspected Angeal's head more closely. This time he noticed changes to the new tissue growth. The veiny bag of flesh at the base of Angeal's neck had gotten larger and rounder, like a ball. The head rode higher in the fluid to accommodate it. The entire new mass almost touched the container's sides and base. The two horizontal creases across the ball of tissue's front were sharper, more defined, and looked like...like slits. Additionally, two dangling protuberances had formed near the ball's bottom. Equidistant behind them was a third, shorter stub. It reminded Zack of a tailbone.

When had that happened? Overnight?

"Sephiroth, have you seen this?" Zack asked, very quietly. "Angeal's had a growth spurt of some kind."

Sephiroth glanced at Angeal then met Zack's eyes. His expression closed down. "I saw the limb sprouts earlier this morning, when I recast Sleepel on him. There should be four, not three, and in different locations."

"Maybe the arms..." Zack assumed the two short stalks of flesh would grow into legs. "Maybe the arms haven't formed yet. I think that one in back might be the end of a spine."

"Perhaps."

That single word sounded doubtful. Zack recalled that Sephiroth had once suggested Angeal's regrowth might become abnormal. At the time, he had hoped Sephiroth was wrong. He still did.

Without enthusiasm, he finished his breakfast. It wouldn't do to waste food. Stick to business, he told himself. There was no need to panic. Hollander would know what to do. Sephiroth thought so. Hojo had, too.

Zack rinsed his dishes and cutlery in the stream. He packed them back into the truck then rummaged around in their gear, searching out one of the advanced first aid kits.

"What are you doing?" asked Sephiroth.

"I'm looking for— Aha! Got 'em!" Triumphantly, Zack raised a pair of scissors above his head.

Sephiroth gave him a foul look.

The A-Ahrimans laughed and laughed.