Chapter 5: Feathers in the Storm

"To let the wind decide, where you're going to fall... how tempting."

Lucrecia was lying on the wet cave floor, struggling to catch a breath, like a newborn child.

Sephiroth did not make a single move to help. He was only observing her, carefully and quite persistently, as if she was an interesting specimen released from a cage. No one could tell, what he was thinking, but a small frown did not bode well.

Vincent kneeled near the miserably looking woman, offering assistance. She was not eager to accept it, but did not oppose either. Not that she had much of a choice, with her body weak and useless from the prolonged slumber.

"Lucrecia." Sephiroth broke the silence; there was something strange in the way he pronounced her name, demanding full attention whenever he did. "I assume you know how to defend yourself from the calling?"

She stared at him blankly, still dizzy after the unexpected awakening. She did not look like a respected scientist right now, so confused and vulnerable, not at all. It also took her a moment to understand what he meant and formulate a coherent sentence. But words refused to leave her throat, which hadn't been used for many years. She only nodded in response, too disoriented to even try to contact him mentally.

Lucrecia's pathetic state complicated many things. Sephiroth tilted his head, thinking. He needed both the Ancient and a competent scientist to put his plans into motion. Time was also running out, to his huge disadvantage.

Why nothing could go smoothly, just for once?

Now, with the crystal barrier dissolved, Sephiroth could see that Lucrecia's body was falling apart. Literally. Crumbling down would be the best word to describe this strange process.

Was she even alive? Or rather undead already, like those poor creatures, following the former general through half of the world since the incident in the reactor?

To Sephiroth it looked like Lucrecia got stuck in a weird state between life and death. So, hypothetically, he could just push her towards one of these sides, before she would wither completely.

Vincent frowned at approaching Sephiroth, almost like a guard dog, but relaxed at the sight of a green light on the kid's open palm. The spell, or whatever it was, washed over Lucrecia, like a gentle mist, which had been absorbed by her body with no resistance. Layers of grey dust and tiny cracks on her face disappeared instantly; the pallor was replaced by a healthier redness of blood, circulating under the skin again.

Lucrecia stood up, panic flashing through her - now very conscious and alive - eyes.

"Why?! You shouldn't have done that!" Unable to stand still under Sephiroth's piercing glare, she looked away. "But I'm glad you did... T-thank you."

Vincent glanced at her from the side. Why would she say that? Wasn't it just a basic healing spell, something any Materia user could pull up? What could have disturbed Lucrecia so much?

"Don't make me regret it then." Cold threat in Sephiroth's voice, so inadequate to the situation, made Vincent consider slapping the kid across the face. "You need functioning body, especially legs. I will not have you slowing us down."

Although every part of his body wanted to do something - to move, speak up, fix the unnecessarily raising tension - Vincent did nothing. As always. All while claiming he came along to try redeem himself from his sin...

Sephiroth's challenging gaze pinned him in place. Cruel, mocking. As if the kid had guessed what was on Vincen't mind and provoked him to act.

To Sephiroth's disappointment, Vincent was first to withdraw from their petty staring contest and focused on assisting Lucrecia... Only to be pushed away as well.

They stood like that for a while, long enough to become uncomfortable. Three stubborn fools - Vincent thought - completely unable to communicate, each in their own bubble of silent bitterness and remorse.

A distortion in the humming of the waterfall, when Sephiroth left the cave, interrupted Vincent's brooding routine. He shot a shy gaze at Lucrecia, amazed, how alive, young and beautiful she looked.

Almost as if the time had stopped. Almost as if... Hojo had never happened.

"He's right," Lucrecia said quietly, in a voice as harsh as the reality they needed to face. She did not dare to look at Vincent, but kept staring at her own, shaking hands. "There's no time to waste. I will catch up in a moment. This body needs a warm-up... and a reminder, how to walk."

Feeling dismissed, like a stupid youngster rejected by his crush, Vincent nodded slightly and walked away. Crossing the curtain of water, he politely pretended not to hear her muffled sobbing.

Zack didn't like the dark clouds gathering on the horizon.

The sea was still calm, waves barely visible, like ripples on the surface of a huge lake. But something worried Zack anyway, a shadow of distant dangers, hanging over his head like an executioner's axe.

How does the saying go - calm before the storm, eh?

Bribes had been paid, Cloud placed safely in the temporary hideout under the lifeboats. These were the last moments of peace before the race against time would begin in Junon. Unless...

Zack shook his head. He couldn't count on anyone anymore. The others, including Sephiroth, had already risked enough to keep two of them safe.

It was about time to leave the past on this side of the sea. The motorbike, however... Zack gently patted it goodbye, like a trusted companion, who saved them from many dangers. The Turks were most likely going to retrieve it in a moment, but he still felt sad to just abandon it like that.

Would Sephiroth miss this beast of a machine? Had he ever been attached to items? Zack couldn't recall anything about it. Except that famous sword, of course. And Sephiroth lost it somehow, from what Zack had seen so far.

He sighed. After all missions together and their unwritten deal to try and help Angeal, not simply eliminate him, Zack knew almost nothing about Sephiroth. Just how many lives would be saved, how many stories could go differently, if they only had more time to...

The last signal before the departure helped Zack shake off such irrelevant thoughts - not his thoughts, as he had concluded before. He sneaked into the hideout, bracing himself for the hardships of a long journey.

Whatever those turbulent waters threw at him, he would endure. It was just another step that would take him closer to Aerith.

"Are you sure it's not a problem?"

Tifa shrugged.

"It's not like I'll be having any guests soon," she said, slipping behind the bar and reaching for a bottle.

"Right." Aerith clumsily climbed the stool and smoothed her skirt. Nervousness in her movements, although still visible, was slowly fading away. "And how long this 'cleaning' usually takes?"

"Few hours."

"My, that's a lot of time to get drunk!"

"Sure it is!" Tifa laughed and the sound, so honest and pure, echoed loudly throughout the empty room. Going with the flow, she showed off her bartender skills, nearly as impressive as the fighting ones. "Do you have a favorite drink or would you rather trust my intuition?"

"With such a lovely hostess? I think the answer is obvious."

Tifa's gaze went to the side, in a cute display of embarrassment. Then she smiled, with that characteristic mannerism of someone, who had not many occasions to show emotions for some time already.

"Hmm... Let's see then." But she clearly had fun in Aerith's company, a hint of joy in her gaze and voice was unmistakable. "You look like you need a little sweetness. So..." - she teased, working her magic with bottles and shakers - "...I proudly present to you: the Lifestream."

Aerith's wide open eyes followed the glass, sliding across the bar. The drink was green, glittering with particles of something crystallized... sugar, perhaps? The color, perfectly matching that of Mako, put Aerith in a strangely melancholic mood. It felt personal for some reason. Fitting, too.

"Amazing," she said, turning the glass in her hands and watching small ripples on the surface of this miniature sea of green. She took a sip and let the sensation spread in her mouth. Pleasurable warmth overwhelmed her for a moment, then slowly made its way to the throat and stomach. "It's just... wow!"

Tifa, who was observing everything with her elbows resting on the bar, nodded slightly, accepting the well-deserved praise. Aerith's reactions, so natural and honest, were amusing to watch.

"So... wanna talk, girl to girl? Maybe you tell me about yourself or your flowers? If you want, of course." She played for a moment with her drink, brown-red like her eyes. "We can always find another topic or just get drunk in silence."

"Mhm. I mean... It's okay, I don't mind." Aerith, still impressed by Tifa's skills, furtively licked her lips, tracing the remnants of sweet liquor with the tip of her tongue. She recognized bits of mint and some sour fruits, which added a lot to the overall flavor. But the rest of the ingredients remained the bartender's secret. "There's not much happening, when you just grow and sell flowers, really. Especially now, with all the commotion at the city gates. But I was also... waiting for someone. A SOLDIER, who hasn't returned from a mission."

Tifa did not manage to hide a painful, disgusted grimace at the mention of Shin-Ra's special troops.

"A SOLDIER, huh? No wonder he hasn't come back. They're dangerous and weird."

"Not all of them." Aerith sounded deeply hurt and for a second Tifa regretted her harsh words. The wound was still deep and bleeding, it seemed. "Some are good people, who just want to help."

"I don't doubt that," Tifa agreed, softer this time, but traces of bitterness must have remained in her lowered voice. "Until they're go mad one day and burn an entire village just because."

Aerith's saddened visibly, reaching out to the other girl in a comforting gesture.

"Is this what happened to you?"

"Mhm. Two SOLDIERs came to my hometown to check on the old reactor. I guided them through the mountains." Her voice trembled and Aerith's grasp on her wrist tightened. So warm, so soothing. Tifa had not many occasions to talk about that fateful day and didn't even realize, how much she needed it. Why she felt that opening up to this random girl she'd just met was okay, though? "There was... fire and a fight. I don't remember much more. My family and home is gone and my... Some others went missing." She exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself down. Years had passed and she still... "We were supposed to talk about you, not me. Sorry, I don't do this often."

Aerith shook her head, not intending to lessen her grip on Tifa's hand.

"It's all right. I understand. It's good to let go sometimes, you know? If you keep bottling such things inside, one day you will explode." Her expression turned into something cunningly playful. "It would be a waste, if you ask me. And who would wash all the awful stains from the walls?"

Tifa blinked. It took her a second, but she appreciated the change of mood.

"Maybe there's a chance I would explode into confetti?"

"Or candies." Aerith chuckled at the mental image and Tifa followed soon after. "Flowers would be good, too."

"I choose candies. At least the kids will have fun with me!"

It felt good - to forget about troubles for a while and just enjoy the moment in good company. Maybe it was alcohol kicking in, but Tifa was tempted to ask her new companion about that SOLDIER, who hadn't returned home. Who was he, if such a kind girl spoke so fondly of him? Name and class wouldn't tell her much, most likely. When had he gone missing? Maybe, just maybe...

She almost snorted, feeling silly for even thinking about it.

What were the odds, anyway?

The journey down the mountains was a disaster, in Vincent's opinion.

How had it come to this? - he wondered. The three of them, who could have formed a loving family in different circumstances, had nothing to talk about. More, they were one step from tearing each other apart at the first sign of danger.

Sephiroth did not wait for them to follow anymore, rather kept wandering off, pressing forward on the pretext of clearing the way. They found him several times among dead monsters, massacred without even one shot of his guns. It wasn't the nicest sight imaginable and Vincent didn't want to know, how the creatures had been dealt with.

Sephiroth had closed himself off again. The delicate balance they had worked out while traveling with Vincent was gone, destroyed by the presence of 'an intruder' in form of Lucrecia...

No, not exactly, the former Turk concluded, observing minor changes in the kid's behavior. He felt it more than understood, but this coldness and voluntary alienation looked like a defense mechanism of sorts. Of someone who had used to being abandoned so often, he preferred to willingly leave the group before it could happen again.

Although it seemed impossible, they talked even less than before. Sephiroth answered questions directly related to the current situation, but stubbornly avoided any other form of conversation. With each dodged question, a new brick was added to the wall, raising between them slowly but steadily.

Lucrecia did not try to break through it either - she focused all her energy on surviving their crazy mountain trip. Although she did not say anything, Vincent guessed she was determined to keep up and not be a burden, perhaps as some twisted idea of self-punishment.

Traveling like that was a torture. Vincent expected them all to descend deeper into madness before reaching their destination. That's why he welcomed with relief a distraction in form of an unexpected phone call.

Sephiroth said nothing, just listened to the message and closed his PHS with a dramatic click. He looked at Vincent, then at the distant horizon and the reddening sun, sinking towards the west. He had another spontaneous decision to make, right now, before everything he had carefully plotted would fall apart.

Or maybe this time it wasn't about the greater plan, but his refusal to accept losing anyone else?

Why was he even asking himself such questions? He'd been trained to work under pressure. They said he was good at it. That he had things like real-time tactics and exceptional battle instinct in his blood.

They said many other lies, too.

The former star of SOLDIER looked at Vincent again, quite persistently, as if trying to confirm something.

Yes, he has the same look about him. To protect someone dear... Just like Angeal and Zack.

Even if he didn't really trust the man himself, this particular trait was worth betting on.

Ignoring the questioning gazes crawling on his back, Sephiroth took off one of his gloves and reached for a knife, to carve a series of digits on it - geographical coordinates and a phone number, from the look of it.

"The path to the hideout should be relatively safe," he said, handing this improvised note to Vincent. "Call me, when you get there. Then we will decide what to do next."

"What about you?"

Sephiroth did not answer. Silently cursing the destruction of another good shirt, he spread his wing instead, in a switf, sweeping movement. Black feathers shone ominously in the evening sun, while their owner focused on examining reactions of his traveling companions.

Vincent did not look impressed. The former general noticed only a small shift in his seemingly relaxed stance, less then a step back and a curiously raised eyebrow. Lucrecia, however...

Mouth agape, hastily covered with both hands, breath held in shock, skin suddenly white, despite the reddish glow of the fading sun... if Sephiroth was to mention only a few, most amusing details.

Part of him, the vengeful and petty one, wanted to torture her with this unpleasant sight, to wordlessly say: 'Look what you've done!' and enjoy the terror spreading across her face.

But there was more - a tiny, but surprisingly painful sting of something he thought had been burrowed too deep to emerge to the surface ever again.

What did he expect? Shared genes or not, this is how humans reacted to monsters, after all.

To not dwell on unnecessary details and emotions, Sephiroth moved the wing, deliberately slow, raising a wave of dirt from the ground, and took flight, determined to never look back.

Zack Fair wasn't a person physically able to sit still for long periods of time. His feet gave up first and began to trace circles on the floor. Hands surrendered soon after, joining this frantic 'dance' to imaginary music.

He sighed. Maybe a few push-ups would help? There was enough space to try without making any noise, right?

Zack had no idea, how much time had passed, before the winds grew heavier and the rain began to drum against the bottom of the boat they were hiding under. Then something thumped terribly nearby, almost crushing through the 'roof' of their hideout.

"What the...?!" Zack's head emerged from behind the wet tarpaulin. "Genesis?! What are you doing here?"

"The storm is coming," the former First threw nonchalantly, shrugging and pretending that his fall hadn't been painfully graceless. Lightning struck the sea surface in the background, as if Genesis' entrance couldn't be any more dramatic. "And I'm not in condition to fly through it right now."

Zack shook his head. This was not exactly an answer to his question, but what had he expected? Genesis being his usual, kind of assholish, self was the last position on the list of his current problems.

"The fates are cruel, huh?" - he mocked, unable to stop himself on time.

Genesis raised an eyebrow; his lips pursed and a playful spark appeared in those tired, blurry eyes.

"Exactly so."

Zack sighed and reatreated to the hideout to check on Cloud. Genesis did not follow, which seemed weird. The storm was raging in full force now and the thought of his former SOLDIER comrade being left outside was bothering Zack for some reason.

"Why won't you come here?" - he asked eventually, peaking out and squinting in the heavy rain. "Won't your feathers get wet or something?"

"Oh? I thought my company was unwelcome?"

"Whatever. Just try not to burn anything."

"Fire? On a ship? You wound me, Angeal's Puppy." The way he said it... Genesis might look like a drowned rat, yet carried himself like a star of the show. "I may be half-dead already, but that doesn't mean I'm suicidal."

"Well, good for you then."

The three of them somehow squeezed together in the narrow space. The conversation wasn't going well at all. Genesis stared. Zack stared back. Nothing else happened for longer than an hour. To say, that it was awkward, would be a huge understatement.

"He's getting better," Genesis noticed dryly, gesturing towards Cloud. He said it either just to hear the sound of his own voice again or out of sheer boredom.

"Right?" Zack ruffled his friend's hair, smiling proudly like an older brother. "See, Cloud? You'll be back with us in no time!"

"Only if he learns to control the infection within him." Genesis mercilessly cooled their enthusiasm. "If he fails, someone else will take that chance."

"Someone? Like... you, or what?"

"Ha!" Genesis chuckled, but it sounded forced and bitter. "As tempting as the idea is, I'm neither in the mood nor condition for this kind of fun."

"What about Sephiroth?" - Zack insisted. The former First at least gave the impression of someone, who understood, what was going on. It would be unwise not to take advantage of the situation.

"I'm not sure he knows he can do it." An odd smile, full of superiority, danced on Genesis' lips, when he looked at Cloud again. "But, if I were your pet blond trooper, I'd dread the day Sephiroth finds out."

Forcing his way against heavy winds, Sephiroth frowned in surprise.

His feathers were falling down. How was it possible? He had never lost a single feather before, unless he allowed it to go, either to make his presence known or for any other reason. And now they were falling out in handfuls...

Was the wind up here really so strong?

Most likely. It felt like the Planet itself wanted to strike him down.

It probably did.

To let the wind decide, where you're going to fall... how tempting. To be swept away and dissolve silently into the Lifestream, as no more than a single feather, caught in the ever-twirling current.

How was it possible, that even such a basic human experience - death - had been denied to him? If he fell here, he would join the undead, to finally serve the purpose behind his creation.

It was not acceptable.

Or maybe he had weakened himself too much for that woman? It didn't matter anymore. Another bet he had made in past few days... Of course at least some of those hastily made decisions would come back to bite him in the ass, sooner or later.

Still... How pathetic would that be - the almighty Sephiroth defeated by a storm?

And why he heard that particular line in his head in Angeal's voice?

Bursting out with laughter wasn't the best idea now, he needed to save every breath, every bit of strength. Cherub's barrier wrapped around him like a shell, but even its protection would not last long in this terrible weather.

Why wasn't it an issue in the past? Because he had never opposed the Calamity before?

Maybe he should just embrace Her, welcome Her control back?

Without it he was just a shadow of his former self. An empty, useless vessel. Or...

A puppet.

The thought alone, so pathetic, invasive and wrong, made him growl.

Good, anger was most welcomed. It would keep him going.

I remember rewriting previous chapters, but I'm not sure what came of it... And it seems that I listen too much of Lacuna Coil than it's considered healthy (it shows, doesn't it?).

Thanks for reading, hope You had fun!