Hi all! Hope you've been well. Here's an extra long chapter to make up for the previous radio silence- in my defense, I've been busy writing the last few chapters of this story, so I can post one a day starting today! I'm so ready, like you have no idea.

As always, big thank you to silver-doe287 for editing the chapter ?

Enjoy!

(Potential CWs: blood, dead body (all typical of the story so far))

Tifa woke with a start. She jackknifed upright, her heart pounding in her chest, and wildly glanced through the small, dingy inn room, half-expecting to see a figure lurking in the shadows… except there was nothing there. There was no silhouette standing by her bed. No half-formed shape darting for the window. The room was quiet and still, and she was alone.

With a shaky exhale, she dropped her head into her still-trembling hands. A dream, she told herself– more like a nightmare, really– and, once her heart rate calmed, she blearily lifted her gaze towards the window. Stars twinkled merrily in the midnight sky, their silver light spilling across the quiet dirt street and the flat desert stretched behind it.

It's early, she realized. Too early. It would be quite a few hours until dawn, and she gazed across the moonlit landscape, resting her cheek against her palm. Something heavy settled behind her breast.

Cloud was out there, somewhere.

For a moment, she wondered what he was doing– if he was sitting by a campfire or sleeping now, if he had eaten enough for dinner, if he thought about her as often as she did him– and then she promptly shoved those thoughts out of mind, buried them deep where they belonged, and forced herself to think about other things, things that didn't ache quite so deeply. Her shirt needed mending in the elbow. She should buy more provisions from the general store. When was the last time she sharpened her knife?

She swung her legs off the side of the bed, and the floor was like ice against her bare feet, and she took a step for her travel bag–

– only for something to crinkle beneath her foot. She glanced down, frowning, to see a loose paper lying on the ground. But not paper, she realized the moment she picked it up, but a note. The letter was worn and creased with dirt, smelled like campfire smoke and gunpowder, and though the writing was barely legible, she immediately recognized her name scrawled along its top. Or, more specifically, she recognized the handwriting that had written her name– the sharp T, the impatient I that blurred into the F.

Cloud.

The scribbled letters blurred before her, and she quickly blinked the tears out of her eyes as she scanned the brief note. It didn't say much, but what was there made her go cold:

SS and KS leaving at dawn for train. Will try to stop them. Bring backup.

Then, at the very bottom, left there almost like an afterthought:

I'm sorry.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clutching the letter against her chest. Cloud, she thought again, her heart aching as if from an open wound. He must have visited her while she was asleep. She slept shallowly these days— even a single pop from a fire was enough to wake her now— but her subconscious still knew Cloud, even after all this time apart. He could still make her feel safe, despite it all.

But… if he had visited, why hadn't he woken her? Why hadn't he stayed? Why didn't he say anything?

Tifa slowly exhaled and slowly opened her eyes, resolve hardening her expression. I'll just have to ask him the next time I see him, she decided, then quickly began to change. Dawn was rapidly approaching, and she needed to wake up the others.

Dawn rose bloody across the eastern sky, staining the lingering night shades of red and gold and setting the clouds on fire. The scarlet hue warmed the sprawling desert, which was only just beginning to wake: tumbleweeds bounced aimlessly across the sand, lizards baked themselves on exposed stone, and a hawk cried out somewhere in the wasteland, a lonely cry to the dying stars.

But its cry was immediately swallowed as Sephiroth forcefully kicked down the caboose's cabin door, ripping it off of its metal hinges and sending it crashing into the wall, where it ricocheted off of it like a misfired bullet before skidding loudly across the floor. It came to a hard stop against the far wall.

Cloud winced at the racket, the wind tearing at his clothes and hair. If they had been hoping to enter the train unnoticed, those hopes had just been crushed. Though, the train is loud, he thought ruefully, listening as it roared down the tracks. It's possible no one heard us.

If Sephiroth had those same concerns, it wasn't very apparent. "Let's go," he ordered, taking a step forward. His gaze was piercing, the alien green glow of his eyes made brighter by the near-nonexistent lighting. A ghost of a smile curved his sharp lips. "Let us see if they have what we are looking for."

Cloud peered inside the car. Barrels filled with various exotic, coastal fruits— unripe bananas, coconuts, and green papaya— were stacked along the walls, while burlap bags stuffed with rye, wheat, and corn were piled in the empty spaces between. The sight of them made Cloud's heart hurt. Had the wheat gone to seed in his absence? Or had Tifa harvested all of it, all on her own, and had also bundled the grain, taken the bags to market, bartered for a good price…

"Well?" Kadaj's sharp voice snapped Cloud out of his spiraling thoughts, and he turned to see the other man glaring at him, his slitted eyes glinting in the dark. Noticing that he had Cloud's attention, his upper lip curled up in a sneer. "Are you going to get in or not?"

Cloud met his glower with a flat look, then without another word, he stepped inside the supply car.. Everything changes today, he reminded himself. Today, regardless of the consequences, he was going to kill Kadaj and Sephiroth. The only question was when… and how.

Kadaj made a disgusted sound, but dutifully entered behind him. Meanwhile, Sephiroth was standing in the middle of the car with his head cocked to the side, his eyes closed, as if he was listening to a particularly good song. Except there was no music– only the rhythmic thudding as the train moved along the tracks, the various cars groaning as they rocked, and the barrels creaking with the rolling momentum.

It gave Cloud the creeps.

When Sephiroth finally opened his eyes, Cloud couldn't help but be almost relieved. "We will split up," he began, his tone brooking no questions. "I will stay here and search. Cloud–" he turned to the man in question– "you and Kadaj will go to the engine room, the locomotive, and work your way backward. We will reconvene here when you are finished."

" What!" Kadaj stepped forward, his eyes blazing. "Why should I go with—"

"Kadaj."

At Sephiroth's chilly tone, Kadaj's jaw snapped shut. With another disgusted sound he shouldered past Cloud, causing the other man to stumble, and stalked through the doorway to the next room. Cloud could hear him muttering underneath his breath as he passed, but he couldn't make out the words. The moment he was gone, Sephiroth glanced at Cloud and, once he caught his eye, jerked his head in Kadaj's direction.

"Go after him."

Well, Cloud was nothing if not good at following orders. His pistol heavy on his hip, and his knife tucked into his sleeve, he turned to follow Kadaj to the front of the train. Everything changes today, he thought again as he stepped out of the rear car and into the next, his footsteps ringing hollow against the aluminum floor. Today.

As he followed after Kadaj, who was a car or two ahead of him, he formulated hisa plan in his mind. He wasn't overly worried about taking down Kadaj. He knew that the other man was weaker than he was and, to be blunt, far less clever. No, what worried Cloud was what came after he killed Kadaj. The sensible thing was to stop the train, of course. He was relatively certain that there was an emergency switch somewhere in the locomotive, which would forcibly kill the engine and therefore stop the train. Hopefully that would give the authorities some time to catch up— assuming, of course, that Tifa had found his note and would bring backup. Any kind of backup. It didn't matter who anymore.

Though— and his heart panged with the thought— he wouldn't blame her if she didn't. He hadn't given her many reasons for her to trust him, especially not recently.

Would she even want to see him again, afterwards?

But the moment the thought crossed his mind, he shoved it aside and buried it deep where it belonged. He had enough wounds on his heart– he didn't need to rip open another, not now.

Focus, he ordered himself. He needed to figure out what he would do after he stopped the train. Going after Sephiroth was the obvious choice, so the real question was: How? Surprise him? That would never go well— not only was Sephiroth stronger and faster than him, as much as it pained Cloud to admit it, but Sephiroth was also far more ruthless. Cloud trying to get in a cheap shot would just end in his own death, and then who would be left to stop Sephiroth?

Unfortunately, that didn't leave him with many other options. Could I win in a direct fight with him? he wondered. The thought made him feel vaguely sick. I'd have to. There's no other choice. If I'm lucky, maybe… Just maybe, Tifa would bring—

The sudden sound of a gunshot echoed through the cabin. Cloud jerked his head up, wide-eyed. Through the hazy twin door separating the individual cars, he could make out Kadaj's silhouette shifting behind the glass. His back was towards Cloud, and one of his arms was raised as if firing a warning shot. At that moment, Cloud also noticed that the car Kadaj was in was much brighter than the others they had passed— almost like it was a passenger cabin, rather than a supply car. A full passenger car. Now that he was looking, he could see the vague forms of the people jammed into their seats, their blurry faces upturned in horror as Kadaj strode towards them.

He's going to kill them, Cloud suddenly realized. Horror spiked through him when he realized further, He's going to kill all of them.

He started to run.

Dawn had come and gone. In the time in between, Tifa had woken up the others and, on their recommendation, had also made an announcement to the other bounty hunters staying at the inn: the Simmels were targeting the train, which was already racing towards the Golden Saucer, and she would split the bounty with whoever rode to help. It would be dangerous, and many of them would likely die. The only caveat was this– the youngest Simmel brother couldn't be touched. They had agreed, but Tifa kept one hand on her pistol just in case.

It had taken more time than she would have liked to wrangle everyone, and longer still to organize, share the barest slips of information, receive information in turn, and then ride after the train. Rain was hot and sweating beneath her as they galloped full sprint, the sun warming the pale sky above them, the train little more than a cloud of dust in the distance, and– despite her best efforts– she soon had no choice but to realize:

There would be no way they'd catch up to the train.

"Slow!" Tifa called, even though saying it felt like spitting out a shard of glass, cutting all the while. She gently pulled on Rain's reins, easing her from her hard run, but Rain snorted and tugged against the command. It was as if she knew she was racing towards Cloud, her favorite person, and seemed to be telling Tifa with every toss of her head that she could keep going, that she could run straight to the horizon if needed, that she could run forever if she was asked.

But Tifa couldn't ask that of her. Cloud was already lost to her– or as close as lost as he could get, anyway. She couldn't bear to lose Rain too.

"Sorry girl," Tifa murmured, patting her flank. Rain snorted, steaming and furious. "We'll catch up, I promise."

The promise sounded empty, even to her. How can we possibly catch up now? she wondered, squinting into the distance, keenly aware of the other riders at her back. We could go back to town and board the next train, but by then… Cloud will already be gone.

Again.

"We should have left earlier," she gritted out as Vincent stopped his horse beside her, his expression bland and passive. "If we had rallied everyone sooner—"

"You know that wasn't possible," Vincent replied.

Tifa clenched her jaw. She already knew that, too. "I shouldn't have asked them," she said instead. "We don't need backup. We're enough as it is, and–"

"Cloud asked for backup, didn't he?"

"Yes, but–"

"I'm sure he had his reasons," Vincent cut in. He glanced over his shoulder, to where the other riders were beginning to shout protests. Cid and Yuffie shouted right back, but their combined voices couldn't overpower the dozen others. "Regardless," he cooly continued, "we should think of a new plan, or else we may have a problem on our hands."

At that moment, Yuffie trotted up to them. "One of the guys says that there's an oasis near here." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, out across the desert. Heat was not yet wavering up the sand, but it would, soon. "Says we can water the horses, then continue."

"And miss the reward?" someone screeched behind her. " Hell naw."

Another bounty hunter added, "We could have caught 'em!"

Grumbles and agreements rose up from the remaining bounty hunters, half a dozen or so, and it was only Cid shrieking "Shaddap!" that silenced them. Cid continued, his voice raised in a shout, "You want to kill your damned horses by chasing that damn train, then by all means, go! But I don't have a damn cob o' corn between my ears, so I'll be going to that oasis! Then when you all are limpin' to town half dead and no horse, I'll gallop right on by ya and catch the buggers myself!"

Strangely, that decided it. The harsh whispers and outright disapprovals quieted into a reluctant, uneasy, and borderline hostile acceptance.

Vincent turned to Tifa, once eyebrow delicately arched. "Well?"

Tifa slowly exhaled. "To the oasis, then," she said, unable to keep from sounding bitter about it.

Why was she always one step behind?

He's going to kill everyone.

Cloud threw open the passenger cabin's doors, momentarily forgetting his newfound strength in his haste. The sliding doors parted with a shattering slam, their glass cracking, his fingers denting the metal with five distinct grooves. The passengers nearest to him— a woman wearing an unbelievably frilly dress, sitting alongside a man wearing a fine suit— cowered away from him, the latter crying out as glass rained to the floor. But he hardly noticed. His gaze was focused on Kadaj, rage tinting the edge of his vision in seaglass green.

Everything changes today.

"Enough," Cloud snapped, his voice ricocheting through the car like a stray bullet. "Put the gun down."

Kadaj glanced over his shoulder, his slitted eyes gleaming, his grin flit sharp. "Cloud," he greeted. His tone would have been conversational, if it hadn't been for the malice dripping from every syllable. "So you finally decided to join me. Or did your scary big brother make you?"

"Drop the gun," Cloud repeated instead of replying.

Kadaj laughed. "Or what?" His eyes glinted beneath the iridescent lights, his slitted iris gleaming with a strange red glow. "Are you going to stop me?"

"If I have to."

" If I have to," Kadaj echoed, his tone mocking. "Big bleeding heart, aren't you? Man of justice and all of that. But while you may have Sephiroth fooled—" and there was a gasp from someone nearby, followed shortly by a whimper— "you don't fool me. I know exactly who you are," he continued, his voice darkening.

Cloud's fingers inched for his gun, strapped to his hip. "And what might that be?"

"You're one of us. A back-stabbing, no-good, bastard son of no one."

"Oh yeah?" All things considered, that was probably one of the kinder things Cloud had been called. It was almost a let down. "You come up with that yourself?"

"You think I'm stupid, don't you?" Kadaj snapped. "That I didn't see what you were doing, staying up late at night writing all of your fancy letters in that fancy writin' of yours. Sephiroth may think you can do no wrong, but I know that you're the reason all of our damn heists have gone sideways, and why your woman always seems to be one step behind. You've been tellin' her where you were all this time, is that it?"

Not even the desert sun could thaw the ice that suddenly gripped Cloud's heart.

Kadaj spit to the side. "Mighty loyal of a husband you are. I pity you, really. Pity you for thinkin' that, after how bloody your hands are, you think you're going to go back to your wife after all of this. You really think she'll take you back? You?" He laughed. "The way I figure it, the moment you left, she probably spread her legs for the first person who—"

Cloud shot him.

Time seemed to slow as the bullet tore out of his pistol with a bright flash, bleaching the world in white. It was followed by a sharp crack as it tore through Kadaj's chest. Kadaj's eyes widened. Blood arched through the air and splattered the nearby seats, streaked the windows, speckled the faces of anyone unfortunate enough to be close by, and then the screaming began. People tore out of their seats in a desperate attempt to flee. One woman fainted with a soft, solemn sigh. Two men dropped, one draping himself over the other.

Kadaj only staggered backwards, staring down at his own chest in surprise. "You shot me." He lifted his head, wide-eyed, red bubbling on his lips. He sounded as if he were drowning. "I would never—"

Cloud fired again, this time aiming for Kadaj's head. The bullet cut in between Kadaj's eyes and ripped out the other side, sending red gore splattering against the carpeted floor.

Kadaj's legs gave out like a crumpled paper lantern, and he didn't get up again.

Cloud stared down at him, breathing hard, his chest heaving like he had been running full sprint. Every breath grated against his throat.

Dead, he told himself. He swallowed hard and lifted his gaze. A quick glance told him that most of the passengers had already fled, presumably to the other cars, but a few had stayed— either because they had fainted from shock or were cowering behind the seats, vomiting or otherwise. A sudden thought occurred to him amid his ringing ears:

Need to stop the train.

He began walking forward, stumbling slightly when the train car suddenly lurched to the side. "Mercy," one man whispered. Cloud glanced down on reflex and saw a man– a father– with a small child pressed behind him. The child's big, brown eyes were staring at Cloud with something like disbelieving awe and raw fear. "Mercy," the father repeated, his voice trembling.

Cloud's stomach twisted, and he tore his gaze away. A broken sob rose up behind him, but he was no longer listening as he began heading for the first car, the locomotive, with the goal to stop the train. And then… Then he'd turn around, face Sephiroth, and end things like he should have years ago.

He stepped into the next passenger car. Compared to the previous, it was quiet, almost peaceful— no one was shooting at the ceiling, no one was aiming a gun at him, no one was screaming or vomiting on the floor. Instead everyone was cowering, obviously aware of what had just happened. Their breaths were tense and silent as they watched Cloud pass. No one tried to stop him. No one commented on the blood speckling his skin and hair. In a strange way, their tense silence made Cloud feel like a ghost— like he was just a specter passing through the train cars, one after the next, too tattered to stay for long but too aware to simply pass on.

By the time he made it to the locomotive, he felt almost out-of-body. It was like watching someone else slide the door open, take a step into the hot cabin, glance at the coals burning in the engine box, move towards the emergency brake lever. It was only when he gripped it with one hand, and its over-warm metal seared his leather gloves, did he suddenly realize:

The moment I let go, the only thing left is to kill Sephiroth.

My brother.

He leaned over to the side and was immediately sick, losing his meager breakfast of hash and crackers across the deck. Bile singed his throat. His eyes burned with it. Eventually he couldn't do anything but spit on the floor, his eyes watery, the room blurred around him.

Get a grip, he ordered himself. He stood fully upright and, wiping off his mouth, reached for the lever and yanked it as hard as he could, uncaring at how his fingers trembled against it. The lever slammed against its base and the moment it did, the entire train suddenly lurched, a hard jerk that sent its stomach slamming against the bars of his ribs. Through the locomotive's steel walls he could hear the brakes screaming, a high-pitched roar that had him grimacing and shaking his head. It was all too easy to imagine how they sparked against the tracks, squealed against the rails, and how all of the train cars behind buckled against their own momentum.

Using the walls to steady himself, Cloud turned and began heading out the door—

— only to be suddenly hit from behind.

He felt the blow before he heard it; a sudden, pointed push against his shoulder, like someone had taken their finger and dug into the hard muscle there. It was only when he felt a sticky, wet warmth spill down his back did he realize he had been hit with a fist but with a bullet, and all he could think was that it didn't hurt as much as he had been expecting it to.

He turned, frowning. Two men were standing across from him. They were wearing black suits and had clearly come from the adjacent engine room, which— in Cloud's mind— must make them conductors. The man nearest to him was holding a gun, its barrel still smoking from the blast. Despite his tan skin, he was stunningly pale and clearly shaken.

"You shot me," Cloud accused.

The man began to shake, wide-eyed. "I— I thought—"

Ignoring him, Cloud flexed his fingers and, relieved he still seemed to have a full range of motion, glanced back at the two men. With his next breath he had crossed the room, little more than a dark blur against the flickering coal-tinged shadows; an exhale and the two men dropped, knocked out cold from a well-placed blow to the neck. Cloud frowned down at them. Once he was assured that they were properly out cold, he rolled out his shoulder with a pained wince.

Not good . Winning against Sephiroth had already been a long shot, but… How was he supposed to face Sephiroth now? The shot had been angled in such a way that he couldn't dig the bullet out with his fingers, not without doing more damage to the already fragile wound. That meant that he'd have to leave it in, but that would mean fighting Sephiroth with basically one hand tied behind his back.

"…Damn," he hissed, and began stalking the way he came. He could still feel hot blood dripping from the bullet wound, soaking into his shirt, dripping down to his trousers. But it doesn't matter, he told himself, I'm stronger now. Before the change, a hit like that would have likely killed him from the bloodloss, if not the shock of it, but things were different now. He was different now.

One little bullet couldn't stop him anymore… but there was no mistaking how the cabins seemed to sway around him as he passed them by, tilting as if to show off their best angles, despite the fact the train wasn't moving anymore. Cloud shook his head, continued walking, and occasionally scowled at whoever stared at him for too long. How far away was Sephiroth? He stepped over Kadaj's cooling body, thinking that he hadn't walked that far— maybe a dozen cabins at most. So why was he…?

All too soon, he half-walked, half-stumbled into another car and felt a hand grab his shoulder.

"You were shot," came a low voice. Cloud glanced up to see Sephiroth staring down at him, the other man's slitted eyes nearly luminous in the dark, his lips pursed in a severe scowl. His fingers were like a vice around his upper arm, the nails digging into his rough spun shirt and indenting his skin. "Who did it?" Then, when Cloud only stared blankly: "Was it the same person who killed Kadaj?"

Cloud nearly laughed out loud. Instead he flatly said, "Kadaj was weak."

"Yes, but…" Sephiroth's voice uncharacteristically trailed off, his eyes widened a fraction. When he spoke again, his voice descended like a hammer onto a nail. " You. "

Cloud smiled, sharp and humorless. "Me," he agreed, and gathering up his strength, he ripped his arm out of Sephiroth's grasp and stumbled a few steps backwards. Sephiroth's hand lingered between them a moment before slowly falling. "I did it," Cloud continued, his voice deadpan. "And now—" he lifted his pistol— "you're next."

Funnily enough, it was only when Yuffie shouted, "The train's stopping!" did Tifa realize that she had still been holding on to hope. She turned around so quickly she nearly pulled something in her neck, her heart pounding as she squinted into the distance. She could see the dust cloud blurring the hard line of the horizon, but the cloud was smaller and thinner than before, to the point that she could see the train within it. Its black exoskeleton glinted beneath the bright sunlight like a beetle shell.

"It's slowing down," Cid confirmed, turning his horse around so that he too could face the train. His eyes, shadowed beneath the wide brim of his hat, were bright and eager. "We could make it." He turned to Tifa, grinning. "We have a shot, now."

"We do," Vincent agreed, and then he also glanced at Tifa. "So?"

Tifa blinked back at him. "So?"

"So what would you like to do?" Vincent clarified.

Tifa opened her mouth to answer, but then froze. Her hands were clammy around Rain's leather reins, her stomach was fluttering like a living thing, and something feral was raging against the bars of her ribs. Of course she wanted to hurry towards Cloud. Of course she did. But would that be selfish of her? People could die because of her call, and if they did… Would their blood be on her hands? Would she be dripping with it, by the end?

Tifa swallowed, her mouth bone-dry. "I…"

"We can do it," Cid interrupted.

Rain chose that exact time to loudly nicker and toss her head as if saying of course she could keep running, that she was born for it, that there was nothing more she'd rather do.

Tifa reached down and idly patted her flank. "I know, but, what if…"

"We can do it," Vincent said, echoing Cid's statement. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

Tifa bit her lip. "I know—"

"Isn't your husband waiting for you?" Yuffie added, and when she caught Tifa's glance, waggled her eyebrows up and down in a comically dramatic way. "Right? Right? "

Tifa exhaled, long and slow. "He is," she affirmed. Then again, steadier: "He is." She lifted her eyes towards the distant horizon. Now it was obvious that the train was slowing down. In fact, as she watched it, it was obvious the train was frozen in place on the tracks, completely unmoving.

Cloud was on that train. He was waiting for her– waiting for her to join him, to bring backup, to end things once and for all. She gripped the reins tighter and thought again: Cloud is waiting for me.

She deeply exhaled. She gathered her remaining strength– her trust in Cloud, her faith in both of them– and shrouded herself in it, wearing it like armor around her heart.

"Let's go," she ordered, turning to sweep her gaze across the crew she had gathered. "To the train."

Cid and Yuffie flashed her bright grins while Vincent nodded, as firm and steady as he always was, and she returned the gesture with a tentative smile before kicking Rain back into a gallop. Rain jolted forward, joyful with it.

I can do this, Tifa told herself as the wind tore at her hair.

I have to.

"And now you're next," Cloud stated.

For a long moment, Sephiroth only stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and, strangely, pride. Then he smiled, little more than a curve slash stretched across his lower face. "Oh?" The syllable rang through the still train cabin like the chime of a bell, or a dropping guillotine. "You're going to kill me, is that it?"

Cloud's hands trembled on the pistol's grip, and he held it tighter to hide it. "That's right."

"Why?" Sephiroth asked.

The wind roared outside, whipping sand and dirt against the train car. "Because you've changed," Cloud told him, but the moment the words passed his lips he knew that wasn't quite right. Sephiroth hadn'tchanged, not really. But maybe that was the problem. While Sephiroth remained the same as he always had been, Cloud… hadn't. He'd been buried alive. Met new people. Got married, bought some land, built a home. Cocking the gun, he continued, "All you do is hurt people, kill people, leave places worse than they were before. But worse, you threatened Tifa and then you changed me," he spat out, "made me into this... this snake-eyed monster—!"

"That was a gift," Sephiroth interrupted.

Cloud grit his teeth. "I didn't ask for it. I didn't want it. "

"You didn't have to ask for it." Sephiroth took a step forward, his boot echoed hollow against the metal floor. "That's what makes it a gift, Cloud. You didn't have to ask. I saw you in that run-down house, working yourself down to the bone for some dry grass, and knew I could fix it."

As Sephiroth spoke, Cloud went cold. He's been watching me? "For how long?" he asked, ashamed when his voice shook slightly. "How long have you been…"

"Watching?" When Cloud didn't respond, Sephiroth only glanced towards the dim, dusty window, apparently unconcerned with the gun in Cloud's hand, and said, "Years. Long enough to know that you were wasted on that dingy piece of property."

"No," Cloud breathed.

" Yes. You were nothing there," Sephiroth said, whirling, "nothing but the dirt wedged in your own fingernails. And you had been glorious, before. Even despite being ungifted, you had been strong, fearless, ruthless, eager to please—"

"No," Cloud cut in again. "You're wrong, I was never—"

"But you were. Wasn't that a good life we had, back then? Living as we pleased, answering to no one, taking whatever we wanted whenever we wanted to?"

Cloud cast his memory back, back to those bygone days. He could taste ash on his tongue and could feel the heat of fire against his skin, the humid smoke curling through his hair, and his pistol, hot in his hand. The heat of the sunrise. Fresh bullets jingling in his pocket like spare change. Grabbing a bottle of liquor off a nearby cabinet, still too short to reach the more expensive stuff on the higher shelves, and fighting with its cork before he lost his patience and threw the bottle against the wall. He could still hear the way the glass had shattered, how the acrid scent of alcohol had burned his nose. Could hear the sharp crack of gunshots behind him as Sephiroth made sure the general store owner wouldn't be calling for help.

Sephiroth asked again, smiling, "Wasn't that the good life? Doing what we pleased, when we pleased?"

"No," Cloud said even as another memory welled up; suddenly he was a child, curled up against this big brother, a ratty blanket thrown over them and the starlight shining down through the cracked ceiling like honey dripping from a jar. "No," he said again as he remembered, and remembered, and remembered: Sephiroth pointing his pistol at a girl about to scream, and Cloud shooting the gun out of his hand; telling Sephiroth he wanted to leave the crew and feeling more scared than he ever had before; waking up the next morning with a splitting headache and a pine ceiling inches above his head, and realizing he could be more scared after all.

"No?" Sephiroth's cool voice jolted Cloud out of his spiraling memories. "Don't lie to yourself. Being free, answering to no one but ourselves– it was the life we had always wanted."

"That was the life you wanted," Cloud said, "not me. I wanted out."

"You were a child. You didn't know what you wanted."

"I knew exactly what I wanted." His pistol didn't waver in the air. Now, he knew, would be the perfect time to pull the trigger– and yet he remained frozen, cracking like frost on a window. "You had no right to decide for me."

Sephiroth's expression darkened. "I had every right."

"No, you didn't." The trigger was cold against his finger. "You don't. Enough is enough, Sephiroth."

He fired.

"We'll spread out," Tifa announced as she dismounted Rain. Her boots hit the ground with a cloud of dust. "Don't forget that Sephiroth is inside, so don't do anything stupid. We're aiming to capture, not kill, but if Sephiroth aims first then fire." She glanced over his shoulder, his gaze hard. "Remember: No one touches the younger Simmel but me. I don't give two damns about the bounty, but he's mine."

"That's quite the grudge," same one of the bounty hunters, a man with a graying mustache and an oily glint to his eyes.

Tifa leveled him with an unimpressed stare. "Something like that," she eventually replied before swiveling her gaze to her crew, standing beside her. Managing a thin smile, she added, "Well. Let's do this, then."

They all voiced their various agreements, and with that, they entered the train starting from the middle car. The idea had been that it would be easier to fan out if they didn't start from the end, and Tifa was pleased to see that she was correct.

"I'm going to the back of the train," she announced the moment they stepped inside. When they had passed the last cabin on their way to the middle, she had noticed that the last cabin's door had looked a bit dented— possibly from being kicked in.

At her side, Yuffie made a face. "Alone?"

"I…" Tifa worried her lower lip. Going alone would be stupid, wouldn't it. "No, I guess not," she eventually said. "I just… When we see Cloud, I need to talk to him first. Alone."

Cid tapped his toe on the ground. "We'll just have to cross that bridge when we get there."

"I guess so," Tifa agreed, and with that, they entered the next train car.

The moment the door opened, the first thing she noticed was the thick, humid scent of copper in the air. Blood, her mind immediately supplied as she dropped her gaze, then blanched. Her stomach twisted like a damp cloth being wrung out.

Lying on the floor, shot and clearly dead, was a man that reminded her of Loz and Yazoo: his hair was similarly bleached white, his skin was unnaturally pale, and his eyes– wide open and glazed over– were unnaturally green and slitted. So that's Kadaj, she belatedly recalled. She took a step forward, swallowing down her nausea. Cloud killed him.

Then:

Good.

Distantly she heard Vincent speaking to someone behind her. When she turned, she noticed him crouched beside one of the seats, speaking to one of the cowering passengers.

"There," the other man managed, hsi voice little more than a croak. He pointed down the narrow walkway with a shaky finger. "He– He killed one of his own, then went that way."

Tifa shared a quick look with Vincent, who solemnly nodded. Cloud, she knew, turning back to the man. He's not talking about Sephiroth, but Cloud. Then: Cloud killed someone.

Vincent watched her with dark eyes. Then he said, "We need to get the passengers out of the train."

"Could get ugly later," Cid agreed, and Yuffie immediately offered to help.

Tifa watched them for a moment. A part of her wanted to stay and assist too, but a much larger part was frustrated that this was taking so long. Cloud was waiting for her. "You'll take care of this, then?" she asked, speaking to Vincent. At Vincent's nod, she turned to Cid and continued, "With me, then?"

"I'm with you," Cid replied with uncharacteristic seriousness, and with that, they continued onward.

Despite their fast pace, it seemed to take ages before they finally reached the final train car. Tifa, with her heart lodged firmly in her throat, grabbed the sliding doors– one strangely dented, as if by a slightly larger hand than her own– and slammed them open, the sound echoing through the cramped space like a trumpet announcing the rapture.

And then she froze, because there, standing in the center of the train car, was Cloud.

Except Sephiroth had his hand around Cloud's neck, and Cloud's face was flushed red. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, spilled from a deep cut on his temple, and oozed from a bullet hole in his shoulder. Yet, despite all that, the moment Cloud's eyes flicked towards her own, the only expression written on his face was fear, not pain. It took her a moment longer to realize that he was afraid for her.

"Run," he rasped, the word little more than a dry, gasping gurgle.

Meanwhile, Sephiroth's smile was flint-sharp. "So the prodigal wife arrives," he announced. There was a streak of red across his cheek, still beading with fresh blood. "Welcome. I was just informed that you may be making it."

Tifa's hands were trembling at her side, but from anger or terror, she couldn't say. "Let him go," she demanded.

Sephiroth's grin widened. "Or what?"

"Or I'll kill you."

Sephiroth hummed, his chin tilting as if he was considering this. Then he said, like a guillotine dropping, "No."

Several things happened at once:

Cid fired, only to be slammed against the far wall. He slumped, unconscious, leaving Tifa staring wide-eyed at the empty space Sephiroth had been a second ago. When she turned, stunned, it was just in time to see Sephiroth's hand spasm around Cloud's neck. She heard herself scream as if from a great distance, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the dull snap of breaking bone, the wet crunch of his throat being crushed. Cloud's eyes widened and then, just as quickly, went dull.

"No," Tifa breathed, uncomprehending. " No. "

Sephiroth released his grip. Cloud dropped boneless to the ground, knees first, then to the side, his head bouncing dully against the floor. Tifa could only stare in disbelief. She could barely comprehend the way visceral horror was sweeping over her, and yet no matter how long she stared, Cloud didn't move.

He was dead.

Sorry about that cliffhanger! The good news is that the next chapter will be posted tomorrow, so you don't have long to wait for the next one.

As always, if you'd like chapter updates & previews, you can find them on my twitterand, more recently, my tumblr

Until next time, wishing you all nothing but the best 🌻