"You two should stick together. It's safer," a deep, masculine voice spoke from right behind him.

Sephiroth agreed that they could stay at a small inn in a piddling little village they found as they meandered on their erratic, northwesterly route. It was one of those places that seemed caught forever in the past, getting by with a small population and no visible means of support aside from a smattering of shops, an inn or two, and a collection of taverns, pubs, and quaint eateries. Zack uncharitably speculated that the money supply in places like this one was static, that there was only a flat amount of gil and the townsfolk just traded it around by buying stuff from each other.

Was Gongaga much different? It was a bit bigger, but there still wasn't much variety. Shin-Ra and its reactor had brought an influx of new people and money for a while, at least. Gongaga hadn't been completely static like this place. The townsfolk here probably just used the barter system for many of their daily transactions. The occasional passersby like himself and Sephiroth injected some badly needed fresh gil into the local economy.

He and Sephiroth had arrived late at night and been lucky that anyone would take strangers in at all during the off hours. Zack knew Sephiroth had paid extra to get them a small room above a tavern. The entire third floor had been converted for use by paying guests, but there really were only a few rooms to choose from. Still, they could go downstairs to get a hot meal, they had a small bathroom with a shower, and the two narrow, single beds seemed an incredible luxury. A tiny window high up by the ceiling probably let in some sunlight during the day.

It was a wonderful change from constantly camping, as they had done on the Eastern Continent.

The two men inspected every nook and cranny of their room, just out of what Sephiroth called "an abundance of caution" but Zack privately admitted was their shared paranoia. It seemed unlikely that the inn owners were in bed with Shin-Ra, but one could never be certain.

Shin-Ra's reach was greatest in its home territory, and so Zack and Sephiroth had had to go to extreme lengths to stay off the company's radar. The Western Continent also had a large Shin-Ra presence, but many areas were not yet under such total control as the Eastern Continent. Places like the Corel Mountains were fairly independent. Shin-Ra wanted to put in more Mako reactors, but there were still many pockets of resistance to those schemes. It would drive the major coal industries for heat and electricity out of business. The mining operations for coking-quality coal would probably last a little longer, at least until Shin-Ra finished converting the old steel blast furnaces to the more efficient mako-powered arc furnaces.

Finished with the search of the room and unable to distract himself any longer, Zack thought of Gongaga to the south and sighed. The news of his "trial" and "impending execution" had probably reached the whole town by now. His parents must be out of their minds with terror.

He just had to trust that Sephiroth—and Angeal, he thought ruefully—were correct and Shin-Ra wouldn't harm his parents. He jerked his head up with a sudden thought: Aerith was involved, too! She also would be hearing the worst. He hoped she wouldn't do anything stupid. She wouldn't, would she?

Her mom kept her pretty safe, and she also had Turks watching over her. All those people knew about his relationship with her. Her guards would probably be doubled, at least. Aerith would be as safe as was possible for someone under Shin-Ra's eye. But she was probably as worried as Zack's parents.

There was nothing to be done. Zack rifled through a duffle bag and laid out a set of fresh clothes to wear in the morning. They'd be leaving early.

Sephiroth had moved a lamp off a bedside table and onto the floor. He carefully set Angeal's container there and uncovered it, arranging it so Angeal's face looked into the room, not at the wall.

"Remember, you agreed," Sephiroth said firmly.

Zack had no idea what his roommate was talking about. "What did I agree to?"

"Not you," Sephiroth said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Angeal. I was just reminding him."

Zack resisted the urge to cover his face with his hands. "Okay, so what did Angeal agree to? I missed that conversation." Hardly a shock. He missed almost all the important parts of those one-sided talks and had to ask for details unless Sephiroth continued the monologue unbidden.

Which actually happened often enough that Zack lived in perpetual concern about his companion's state of mind—sometimes he even worried about his own safety with Sephiroth. The man was hearing Angeal talking to him, and it was occurring more and more often. That couldn't be good.

Lately, Zack had begun to wonder if the time was fast approaching to take off on his own. He didn't want to abandon Sephiroth—or Angeal—but there was no denying the liabilities involved and Zack had his own life to consider.

Then again, was there really anywhere on the entire Planet he could hide from Shin-Ra? Even Wutai wouldn't be safe. Alone or together, they were wanted men. And Zack couldn't deny that, deteriorating mental health notwithstanding, Sephiroth was among the few people in the world who could evade the forces of the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company, its Turks, and its private armies.

"Angeal agreed to my request that he not regenerate a body for the time being." Sephiroth stared at the specimen container, and made a minute adjustment to the way it was facing. "We talked about it while we were crossing the ocean. I know that it's autonomous to some degree, but he promised to do what he could to slow it down."

"I...see..."

"We need expert guidance for him to regrow his body correctly. That means we need to find Hollander. Angeal understands this. He promised to do his best."

"Uh, huh. Okay, that makes sense." Zack nodded, playing along like always. It was a good thought, just not a rational one. He moved to stand beside Sephiroth. He also stared at Angeal's head, bobbing gently in the aerated fluid within its transparent container, and thought over the latest weird conversation.

Was Sephiroth's request actually working? Zack crouched down, staring hard at the stump of Angeal's neck. During their freighter ride to the Western Continent, it had begun growing again, forming a rounded lump of tissue.

But at some point, Zack realized, that growth had stopped. Unlike the first time Angeal's head had started growing a body, this time the new tissue was no longer increasing. The lump at the base of Angeal's neck was only slightly larger than it had been on the ship.

It could just be some weird Jenova alien bullshit, Zack told himself. Last time, the A-Ahriman copies had been hanging around, probably influencing the regrowth process. There were no A-copies nearby now. That was probably why the growth had slowed down so much. Angeal's head had no bio-pattern to follow, nothing to trigger any instincts to grow a new form. Without some external stimuli, his altered genes and biology stayed dormant. Nothing more.

It couldn't possibly be because Angeal and Sephiroth had come to an agreement. Could it?

"Right, Angeal," Zack said, straightening up and addressing the comatose head. "Listen to Sephiroth. Don't grow anymore. Not until we find Hollander."

He waited, and of course there was no answer. What else had he expected?

Sephiroth picked through the items on the small dresser. "Here's a menu for the tavern downstairs," he said, handing the flat sheet of hand-printed paper to Zack. "It's pretty late, but they should have something left to eat."

There wasn't much choice. Dinner options were limited to beef stew, soup, sandwiches, and the nightly specials of roast meat with green vegetables or fried fish with rice and cabbage "until gone." Both were probably depleted by now, Zack thought. His stomach growled. "The chicken sandwich looks fine. But if that's all gone, I'll eat anything."

"I'll go down and get us dinner," Sephiroth said. "Keep Angeal company for me."

"Sure."

After Sephiroth departed and closed the door behind him, Zack sat down on the bed. He turned toward Angeal's container. "So, what else have you and Sephiroth been discussing?"

Again, there was no answer, not even an echo of the ghostly chuckle Zack had imagined he'd heard earlier in the truck.

"You know," he said. "I could do with a bit of your advice. I'm kind of wondering if I should strike out on my own. It might be safer. Sephiroth—he's not well, is he? He's getting worse, I think, but I don't want to leave him alone like this. He's right, too, about my parents, even if he did blame you about not contacting them."

Zack sighed. "Honestly, I think I'm just as bad as Sephiroth, sitting here talking to you like I expect an answer. I can't leave him, can I? Even if he is crazy. Someone has to keep things together. I can't leave you alone with him, either, not the way you are now."

"You two should stick together. It's safer," a deep, masculine voice spoke from right behind him.

Zack jumped off the bed and stared around in alarm, but he saw no one.

Had someone found them? Was a Turk or some other Shin-Ra spy lurking in the hallway or in a cupboard? "Who's there? Where are you?" He prepared himself for a fight and raced about the small space, checking under the two beds, in the bathroom, the shower, and the tiny closet. He even pulled all the drawers in the dresser and the bathroom cabinet completely off their slides, dumping them on the ground, searching the space inside the wooden cabinets for hidden accesses.

Nothing.

The room was empty, as empty as when Zack and Sephiroth had searched it earlier. There were no openings aside from the door and window. Zack was alone. Alone with Angeal's head.

Zack climbed up on the desk and stared out the high window.

More nothing. The window was closed, locked from the inside. No one lurked outside.

He inspected the ceiling. There were no attic accesses, nothing that might indicate a hidden entryway. The floor and ceiling vents were tiny and slightly dusty. No one could be in the ductwork, either.

Nothing and nothing.

"Now I'm hearing voices, just like Sephiroth," Zack muttered. Being alone with his old mentor's macabre, impossibly living head was getting to him.

Zack resolved to stop talking to Angeal, before he went mad, too. He set about straightening up the mess he had made during his panicked search, replacing drawers and their contents, pushing the beds back into place. Then he sat on a bed and put his head in his hands.

He heard no more voices. That should have reassured him.

It didn't.

He found it a relief beyond measure when Sephiroth returned a little later with lovely-smelling sandwiches and coffee. Of course, Zack didn't mention hearing a disembodied voice—a voice that, now that he thought on it, had sounded terribly like Angeal's. He didn't want to encourage Sephiroth, nor did he want to admit he was going crazy, too.

He just needed some rest, he decided. He was stressed and exhausted, and obsessed with the situation with Angeal. That's why he had imagined hearing Angeal's voice giving him advice. It was good advice, the sort Angeal would have given, but Zack knew it had come from his own subconscious. It must have.

A good night's sleep in a real bed, that was what he needed.