Ooh, unlucky chapter number thirteen, for spooky season! How appropriate!

I don't own anything, anyone or anywhere you recognise. Sapphire, along with a few others who'll crop up every now and then, are mine.

Seriously, thirteen already? But my chapter cushion... *cries in laziness*

Is it bad that I'm getting the urge to replay the FFVII Remake again? Because honestly, the urge is strong. I just love Biggs so much. And Aerith. Everyone else is also cool xD

I've been having fun writing a lighthearted drabble (is that the right word?) Biggs/OC fic in my downtime. Replaying the game might be a better use of that time. Or maybe sleeping.

Ahh. Well guys, we're in Midgar! No reviews for the last chapter so yeah. Really hope this one goes down okay, it's kind of significant. Just a li'l bit. Teeny.

Also, did anyone say 'cameo'? :'D Enjoy!

Chapter 13 - Stranger

"Are you okay?"

I didn't look up. "Nuh-nu-not really."

A gasp, "What's wrong?"

"Ah-af-fraid of trains…"

"…Seriously?" I nodded vigorously. "That sounds rough. How do you get around usually?"

Huh? "I w-walk. F-First time in Midgar, in a while."

"That's nice! You here to visit someone?" I nodded again, slower this time. "Can I help? I'll sit with you until we get to your stop."

"That's… so kind of you," I murmured, heart warmed at the offer. I looked up and offered the strongest smile I could muster. The teenage boy recoiled, making me do the same. Man. Is my smile that repulsive?

He waved his hands in front of him animatedly, "Oh, sorry! I… thought you were an old woman."

Shoulders sagging, I tugged at the ends of the prematurely grey strands. "Understandable." I couldn't think of what else to say, the encounter suddenly feeling an awful lot more awkward. It took a lot of willpower to lower my hand from my hair, which I had painstakingly styled in my hotel room to ensure it covered the downright horrific bruising on the entire top-right corner of my face. I'd had to trim more hair to make a thick enough fringe to be absolutely certain it could not be seen. My poor hair…

The kind stranger sat down on the bench beside me, leaning over in front and below to catch my eye, grinning goofily when he did. The gesture was so familiar, the sort I named my steed Peeka for, that I howled with laughter; new Peeka looked pleased, and a little concerned.

When I regained composure, I felt that the ice had been broken. "Thanks, I really appreciate it. Um… sorry if I'm weird." I drove a hand into my right knee to stop it bouncing.

"Don't worry about it, I'm pretty weird too," he dismissed, and rocked back into the bench, inquisitive eyes scanning me all over. "You definitely aren't local," he mentioned, more to himself than to me.

"What gives it away?" I asked, only half sarcastic.

"What doesn't?" We both laughed at that. "Sunglasses are so stupid. We can't even see the sky!"

"You're just jealous," I retorted, sniffing. My eyes snapped around the boy, to where I could just see the train approaching the station, only just hearing the familiar sound from the great distance away. "You don't need to look after me, you know. I won't be good company," I ground out through gritted teeth.

The boy looked adorably confused, looking over his shoulder then back to me again. "If you get boring, then I'll leave," he compromised, his wide smile smug. Smirking, I appreciated his humour, then saw his eyes go wide before he looked in the direction of the train, looking back to me with furrowed eyebrows. "It's nearly here! You okay?"

Putting on a brave face, I nodded with a tight smile. Left hand on the armrest, right on my right leg, I clenched as the train's screeching drowned out all else—

Blasting heat, weightlessness, the world spinning, my left shoulder slamming—

Burning—

A hand pushing down on my right shoulder levelled me, and jolted me from the one memory I could faultlessly recall. I looked up at the teenager, who smiled down at me, not pityingly but earnestly. "We're okay," he assured me. The train had stopped and passengers were starting to board, a few looking our way with raised eyebrows.

The train was here, time to board. More importantly, I was attracting attention, and needed to get a grip before some SOLDIER I didn't know thought I looked suspicious.

Good grief. I was wearing sunglasses, had grey hair and was associating with a teenager. While endearing, the kid was going to make me look like a creep, so I kinda needed to lose him as soon as. Unfortunately, it seemed I was interesting enough for him to stick around for now. The train journey should be okay. Seemed like lots of people were getting on so hopefully we'd blend in a little.

With an objective to focus on, I filled my lungs and held my breath (if only to stop me sobbing) and got to my feet, gesturing my moral support to walk ahead and board the train with me at his heels. I briefly considered fleeing, as an easy way to shake off the boy in case things got hairy, but his easy smile and caring attitude was etched into my brain already. I'd have felt guilty about it the rest of the day if I did run off, and as my first day on the hunt for my old friends, it didn't feel right to run away from the new one I'd made. Even if he was a few years younger. He seemed very empathetic for a young teenager, and wasn't much shorter than me, but his voice hadn't broken yet. Maybe kids just matured faster in the city, or maybe just in the slums. Or maybe just this one.

After we perched ourselves on a cushioned bench in a carriage that was slightly too full to be comfortable, I asked him his age. "Thirteen," he supplied, "you?"

"Seventeen." He looked aghast at my answer, almost more so than when I'd first seen him.

"What?! Seriously?" His over-the-top disbelief got a laugh from me, as I appreciated the distraction until I realised what it was, as the doors closed and the floor and seat and walls and windows started to vibrate, the rings hanging from the ceiling starting to quiver. The boy asked a question, which I missed so I asked him to repeat, glaring at his mouth to focus as he did, "You came by yourself?"

I nodded.

"What'd you do?" I didn't understand the question, so I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head. "Like, did you run away from home or something?"

Unopposed to answering this question honestly, I shook my head. "I'm a nomad. I don't really have a home yet."

"Wow," he murmured, as my stomach lurched with the train's sudden jerk into forward momentum. "You have friends though?"

I nodded, assembling a story in my head as I spoke it into existence, "One, specifically. He's a SOLDIER, actually. It's been a long time since he saw me, but he helped me out a lot, on a mission I guess. Wanted to thank him."

Though I spoke a little gruffly and hesitantly, my young friend's grin broadened at the story. "That's awesome," he declared, awed. "I can't believe you're friends with a SOLDIER!"

"I dunno how to track him down though," I lamented. "Don't have his number or anything, only know his name. And I'm way too scared to go into the Shinra building."

"I hear ya," he chimed in, cringing and shaking his head rapidly, dark hair flopping into his eyes. "How'll you find him then?"

"I dunno!" He laughed, and I pouted, my hopes of a suggestion from the boy waning.

He seemed thoughtful for a moment, stoking my hopes once more. "Do you know if he's, like, important?"

I nodded vigorously, before stopping abruptly when a throb of a headache reminded me I needed to avoid doing things like that. "He's First Class."

The boy whistled low. "You know, those guys all have these creepy fan clubs. Apparently they know everything about them. You should try finding one of those!" he suggested, leaving me grinning. A lead!

"Where would I find one?"

He scratched the back of his neck, and took a breath to answer. The world shook and rumbled as the brakes came on abruptly, the teenager bumping my shoulder. Out of the window, withered trees and huge boulders hurtled by. A wall of heat almost blew me backwards, as the terrain through the window changed to the grey skies of winter clouds laden with snow. The world spun, and I grabbed the hand of the boy sitting beside me to try to keep us steady—

The train must've teetered back onto the rails, we were still upright. The train wasn't slowing down as abruptly as I thought it would have. Momentum, I suppose, and when it slowed enough, we could jump before the heat got too unbearable or maybe before this carriage caught on fire too. And then we'd have to run, because the men in dark uniforms were coming, and they'd probably already seen us together—

I could fight this time, they couldn't take us again—

A whimper caught my attention, and I looked at the teenager beside me with understanding, because of course he'd be frightened, I needed to explain things quickly so he'd understand how important it was that we'd move as fast and quietly as possible—

"You're hurting me," he murmured, and I let go of his hand like it was on fire. The comparison kicked my brain to recalibrate, because the heat should've had me burning, but there was no exposed flame and no searing heat. I opened my mouth to apologise, but words wouldn't come, stuck in my chest somewhere.

As I stared at the boy who I had hurt, the urgency faded, and I came to realise that the danger had passed. I couldn't quite establish why or how, but we had come to a stop, people were edging past on their way out, and some boarded and took seats or positions on the carriage. Swallowing thickly, I again tried to apologise, but ultimately made my best goldfish impression instead.

The boy met my gaze then, cradling to his chest the hand that I had hurt, and observed quietly, "You really are scared, huh?"

Me? He was saying I was scared, after I did that, and without… without blame, or interrogation, or anger? He wasn't scared?

"Don't cry!" he insisted, sounding alarmed. "I'm okay, see?" He waved his hand in front of me, face split in two with a wide smile, round cheeks lifting to squint his eyes.

"Yeah," I whispered, tears streaming unregulated. "I guess I am scared."

…

When I had regained some morsel of dignity, I repeated my question to my new friend Wedge. He explained that the best place to go to find some SOLDIER fanatics would be Loveless Avenue. I found the name of the street to be a good omen for finding my tutor, given his obsession with the poem. If fans of his would be anywhere in Midgar, they'd be there.

Apparently, Loveless Avenue in Sector Eight was the street for tourists and nights out above the plate. The teenager said that he could count on one hand the number of times he had been above the plate, and those times had not been to anywhere so populous, so I insisted on him coming with me, paying for return tickets for us both when we arrived.

I had pointedly said that money was no object, but now that I knew how much it costed, I was almost tempted to sleep in the gutter to save my return ticket until I had found who I was looking for. Hopefully it wouldn't be that long.

And then I'd have a rich SOLDIER friend who could pay for mine and my friend's transport. Maybe he'd know where I could get an ID card forged too, because I really needed to stop stealing these things. At least the ID scan occurred after my unfortunate target had alighted at her stop.

Alternatively, my SOLDIER friend could give me a different mode of transport. I'd be okay with that.

Wedge gasped and gazed in awe at the towering buildings, the neon signs, the giant screens displaying advertisements for this product and that play amongst plenty of Shinra propaganda. The Shinra building itself towered above all else, plenty visible despite the smog over the town, but still so far away on the horizon.

Pursing my lips and stepping to the side as a businessman in a suit nearly bowled me over, glaring at me while he spoke bitingly into his phone, I murmured to the teenager with a nudge to his ribs, "I prefer the slums."

His wide grin assured that I had earned some brownie points there.

"So," I began, drawing out the word as I turned in a slow circle, "what do you think a fan of a SOLDIER would look like?"

"Uhh…"

My shoulders drooped. "Any chance they'd dress up like a SOLDIER or something?"

"Isn't that a crime?" Wedge questioned, his train of thought casting my mind back to days gone by, back at the rocket site and in Costa del Sol.

"Probably," I assented with a nod, having thought the same those many weeks ago. "Hopefully. I really don't want to talk to any SOLDIERs if I can help it."

"But you're looking for your SOLDIER friend." Oh yeah. No wonder Wedge was confused.

Scratching at the back of my head, I shrugged and laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, but they're pretty intimidating! Don't think I could go up to one and ask if he knew this First Class and how to get in touch with him, I feel like they wouldn't be very helpful…" Whereas, fans could be?

"I think we should just start asking people!" the teenager proposed enthusiastically, marching straight up to a sensibly-dressed woman sitting on a bench. I was glad of the distraction from my pessimistic (realistic) line of thought, and watched Wedge hassle the poor woman. She seemed confused but smiled amicably as he asked, "What SOLDIERs do you know?"

It took her a few moments, but she eventually answered, "Well, there's General Sephiroth, right? Um, another one is… sorry, I just can't remember. I don't really watch the news."

"Okay! Thanks for your time!" Wedge left the woman as quickly as he accosted her. She looked befuddled but her smile remained as she continued eating her lunch. The boy marched up to me, with a wide smile and a shrug. "Not very helpful, but she answered! That's good, right?"

Laughing, I said, "I have to admit, I never would have thought of that approach, but I can't argue with the results. Split up, but stay close. Hopefully one of us will come across a fan!"

All through the lunch hour rush, Wedge and I hassled everyone we came across who'd give us the time of day. While he relied on the same direct questioning, I took advantage of my silver hair and pretended to be a fan of the General's, claiming to be conducting a survey on who was the public's favourite. I was honestly surprised with how receptive people were to my approach, though I hadn't heard anyone really deviating from the General himself. Mr Popular. In fact, no one else had so much as mentioned my old tutor's name, or anyone else's, really.

"Hey, good afternoon! Can I ask a question? Who's your favourite SOLDIER?" The high pitch and peppy attitude was starting to hurt, my cheeks aching from having to bare my teeth for so long, but the cute couple stopped in their tracks and returned smiles, exchanging a look between themselves.

"Gee, I dunno," the girl murmured, shrugging after a moment. "Probably General Sephiroth I guess. I don't really know the others. What about you, babe?"

The look on the young man's face appeared as intriguing to her as it was to me, because she squeaked when she saw the intensity with which he stared at her. "You can't be serious!" he declared, aghast. Unhooking his arm from hers, he stalked away with clenched fists.

The girl stared at me, gobsmacked. Flustered, I shrugged, about to make a comment about how she should probably be glad she dodged a bullet, when it hit me—

He'd have a different answer! A LEAD!

I nearly tripped myself running after the agitated young man, and as good as tackled him to stop him in his tracks. "What was that all about?" I asked first, admittedly letting my confusion get the better of me at first.

"Unbelievable…! I've talked so much about my idol, and what, she's never listened? She could care less?" I bit down on my lip to stop myself correcting his phrasing, as he barrelled on, "I was never brave enough to try out for SOLDIER, but I always wish I had, ever since I met—"

"Babe, c'mon!" the girlfriend hollered as she ran up, grabbing him in a hug from behind. "You know I was joking! I was just telling her what she wanted to hear, I mean, her hair is dyed silver."

Not dyed, but in fairness that was what I was going for. I tried not to react, knowing that her whispering probably would've been quiet enough for me not to hear. If I hadn't been a… uh, Sephiroth fan. Feeling two pairs of eyes scrutinising me, the boy whispered back an "Oh."

Holding my hands together in front of me and putting on my customer service smile, I prompted, "So did you have an answer for me?"

Smirking, he relented, "Put me down for the General as well." As they walked away with a secretive giggle to one another, one of my eyes twitched threateningly.

"Rikka!" Wedge called out loudly, making me glad of his distinctive voice because I had totally forgot what my latest fake name was. For the duration of my stay in Midgar, I felt I'd be safer with a name totally unrelated to my own, whereas I had adopted syllables of my birth name or made appropriate nicknames until now. This one was just supposed to sound like Peeka, a name I would react to even though it was the name I gave to my chocobo.

"Any luck?" I asked, letting my painful grin drop to show what my own response would be to that question. The woman who approached behind him caught my eye.

"Yeah, I found this SOLDIER cosplayer, she says she's a big fan of the First Classes! Think she'd know of your friend?"

My heart throbbed so significantly it lodged itself in my trachea and stopped beating altogether.

The young woman held out a hand, the arm it sprouted from bound in a sleeve of red leather, as she cheerily introduced herself, "Call me Jenny!"

"Hi," I think I said.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," murmured Wedge, sounding a little embarrassed. Jenny, on the other hand, seemed enthused as she took back her unshaken hand.

"Which is more impressive? The coat? Or the wig? Both took me over a month to perfect, though that's not the right word, because nothing but the original would be!" She spun on her heeled, pointed black boots, the ends of her coat flared at the action, chin-length auburn strands whipping before settling back into position.

Swallowing my heart back into position, I murmured, "Bo-both are, fantastic…"

"Wait," Wedge cut in, excitement building, "so this guy Genesis is your friend?"

Jenny gasped, stars in her eyes, which were brown. I wasn't sure how to feel about their colour. "No way! You know Genesis Rhapsodos? How?"

After a few moments of silence, the young teenager picked up on the fact that I wasn't capable of speech, and divulged the short and detail-bereft fable I'd made up for him. Once she was satisfied, Wedge asked, "Do you have any way of getting in touch with him? Or know where he hangs out so we can meet him?"

Apologetically, Jenny pointed out, "I'm his biggest fan, if I had his contact info I'd be his friend. Genesis is in the public eye a lot, seems to like his celebrity a lot more than his friends and fellow First Classes do, but he doesn't have just one particular place he likes to hang out.

"There's only one place I think he'd show up to, and it's practically a guarantee." As my eyes opened wide and I put my hands together as if to start pleading my case, Jenny smirked wickedly. "But, I can't tell you where unless you're an official member of Red Leather!"

Wedge and I repeated her closing two words back to her as a question.

"It's my fan club," she clarified, tossing her artificial auburn hair with a jerk of her head. "It doesn't cost anything, don't worry! Donations are optional. You just need to sign up with your phone number."

From within the coat, likely a large pocket sewn into the linings, Jenny produced a pen and a hardback, bone white book with elegant black accents. My heart throbbed once more at the sight, and I swallowed thickly. Wedge looked at me expectantly, though I had to sigh and bow my head.

"You don't have a phone?"

To Jenny's shocked exclamation, Wedge clarified, "Rikka's a nomad."

"Well, do you have one?" she asked the boy, who looked at his feet, kicking at the ground.

"I'm from the slums…" he admitted. Well, weren't we a sorry pair. Jenny sure seemed to think so, by the look on her face.

"Well I'll tell you what. If you can help me get just one member signed up today in your stead, I'll give you that hint!" With a smile and nod, she slammed the book closed and returned it and the pen to her pocket, walking away.

"Rikka, we're so close! Just one person!" Wedge spoke excitably, even as I growled low in my throat and tugged on the choppy ends of my hair.

"Wedge, we've been here an hour, and that's the first person I've seen that can recall his name!" I collapsed on the sidewalk, pouting at the cars and people that cruised by without sparing me a glance.

"Leave it to me!" he assured, and with a ghost of a touch on my shoulder, he took off. Sighing deeply, I folded my arms over my knees and rested my chin on top.

Loveless Avenue, as the cultural centre of Midgar for arts and entertainment, received plenty of footfall even outside of the busiest times of day. Lunch was long over by now, and the longer it took Wedge to find his willing addition to the Red Leather fan club, the more my anxiety grew.

Shinra troops patrolled around the clock. At any given time I could see two pairs of operatives, either SOLDIER or regular infantry. I wondered how equipped regular patrol officers would be to deal with something as (hopefully) unusual as a Shinra fugitive. I speculated about what orders they were given, what they were instructed to be on the lookout for. After all, I broke out four months ago. I was old news by now, surely? They'd hardly expect to find me under their noses, would they? Regular patrol would hardly know about me. They wouldn't. If they had at one point, it'd be forgotten by now.

I just needed to be a regular person, and fly under the radar. That was all. If they decided I was worth their attention, it'd be over. Because maybe I could incapacitate a couple infantrymen, maybe even a SOLDIER if I was lucky, but not before they sent for reinforcements. And they would not take long to arrive, as I was right on their doorstep.

Staring at the Shinra building, looming far above and far closer than I had seen it in a very long time, a deep fear settled in me. Breathe. And run.

Run!

Pushing myself to stand in a deceptively languid move, I only turned half towards the way I had come when a hand on my wrist had me spinning. Wedge. The innocent, bright eyed young teen, who had the widest and kindest smile in all of Midgar. The boy who'd already seen me break down.

I took a shuddering breath, and attempted a smile. "Found someone?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, though a lot less excitably than he'd first appeared. "You doing okay, Rikka?"

Breathe. I took a breath, and my smile for the boy came a little easier. "Yeah," I echoed. "Did you talk to Jenny already?"

"Uh huh," he affirmed with a nod. "I thought maybe you'd, uh… prefer not to speak to her again. Was that bad?"

Wedge's apology, or perhaps his consideration for me to skip more interaction with the woman, eased my fraying nerves and had me shaking my head. "No, that was perceptive of you, I'm glad you went ahead," I confessed. The return of Wedge's beaming smile did wonders for my worry, and I almost felt like myself once more. "So what was her hint?"

"You ever heard of Loveless?" Wedge asked. I blinked at him owlishly. Laughing, he misinterpreted, continuing, "I mean besides Loveless Avenue. It's some old story that's been converted into a play, and the opening night is next week. Apparently Genesis is a big fan, and Jenny is sure he'll be there on the first night, next Thursday."

Of course. Of course. Why didn't I think of that?!

Duh, I had no idea about the play. And yet now as I looked around, there were posters for it everywhere, the opening date of the twenty-fifth of July only slightly smaller than the title of the play itself. Sigh.

"Brilliant!" I cried, pulling the boy into a hug, which he happily returned. I pulled back almost immediately though, gazing at the boy with fear. "How much do tickets cost?"

I saw the same fear reflected back at me, and we found our way to a ticket vendor outside the venue, who confirmed our fears. Five thousand gil.

If I hadn't paid for Peeka's board in Kalm, I could have paid that much. I couldn't escape from the thought, as much as I loathed thinking it. My travel companion was worth that price five times over, as long as she was happy and comfortable while I left her in the care of strangers. She was the only reason I even got here in time to find this out, after all.

Could I do odd jobs and earn that much, in a week? The thought crossed my mind and fled just as quick. The towns above the plate would have no need of some scruffy nobody looking for work, and those below the plate wouldn't have that kind of money to spend for odd jobs.

"It's cool," I said decisively. Wedge looked up at me with puppy-dog eyes, his pout breaking my heart. I grinned, taking on his usual role. "We'll just wait out here next Thursday. If he's gonna watch, he's gonna have to walk in, right?"

With the beginnings of a smile, Wedge nodded.

Eyes on the sky, a sight I had missed below the plate, I asked with a furrowed brow, "You think it's time you got back home?" I wasn't even sure where he had been heading in the first place before I stole him away for an adventure.

"It's okay," Wedge denied, shaking his head, "they won't even know I'm gone. I'm not meeting up with Biggs until six."

"I'm sure they'll know," unsurely, I disagreed.

"Well yeah," he corrected himself, "but it won't matter. I was on chore duty yesterday so some other kids will be stuck inside today instead."

It took me far too long to connect the dots and recognise that the boy probably lived in an orphanage. "Well that's lucky, for me anyway. Dunno how I'd have got by without your help today."

With a laugh, Wedge agreed, "Yeah, you'd never have found all this out by yourself."

"Oi! Cheeky!" I complained, slapping at him as he leaned away from me, giggling. "Can I get you anything, to thank you before we head back?"

Wedge's eyes lit up, and unashamedly he suggested, "I could really go for some ice cream!"

I hadn't paid much mind to it, but now that he mentioned it, there was a lingering heat and humidity in the midsummer day. Only exaggerated by the closeness of the city and the throngs of people, which I was unused to. "Sure," I agreed, "let's go get some."

Honeycomb for me and double chocolate for Wedge. We took our time with them, enjoying the coolness of the ice cream parlour, and eventually decided it was late enough that Wedge should be getting back home. The walk to the station took three times as long as it should have. The wait for the train was longer. All I remembered from the train journey was darkness and noise, as I squeezed my eyes shut and braced my head between my knees for the duration, while my young friend dismissed the few concerned passengers who approached to offer their assistance.

I staggered off the train without losing my senses though, which I supposed was some sort of victory, if a hollow one. We parted ways with Wedge's cheerful suggestion that I come to the orphanage the next day to meet his friends and younger brother.

The following eleven days flew by. I paid for my board at the inn with the gil that I obtained from helping out around the town, completing odd jobs and helping out the neighbourhood watch. I lamented that the most money I made was from fending off wild creatures in the wreckage outside the walls around the town. While happy to help, it alarmed me that people were living like this without a constant presence to deal with these problems. It was alarming that these were problems at all, frankly.

It was just a shame that I was in great demand for monster hunting, as much as I had liked the thought of it in the past, because I found it incomparably more rewarding to construct, rather than destruct. Reinforcing the walls around the town and helping to repair pipes and homes gave me a focus and a satisfaction that I just… hadn't felt before.

Not to mention it meant Wedge and his friends were constantly annoying me, and I them. That was its own reward.

Before I knew it, Thursday was upon us. Wedge had completed his tasks and schooling for the day, and came to me armed with the ID card of one of the members of staff at the orphanage. "You asked to borrow this, right?" I quizzed, eyes narrowed. The wounded look he shot me was answer enough. I didn't actually think he had taken it without permission; Wedge had a heart of gold. Smiling fondly down at the teen, I ruffled his hair with a grin before a heavy silence fell between us.

The longer we waited for the train to arrive, the greater my anxiety grew. Almost two weeks was not long enough to forget what had happened several months ago. I closed my eyes and focused all my attention on my breathing, deliberately taking protracted, deep breaths and holding it for far longer than ordinarily felt comfortable.

Warm fingers wrapped around my hand, and I gazed at the boy next to me. His eyes were closed and his dark eyebrows furrowed in the most adorable look of concentration I think I'd ever seen.

Solidarity. That's what this was. Wedge was my teammate, and what I went through, he'd go through too. Was this how I felt in SOLDIER? Working together with my teammates, covering each other's weaknesses, without a second thought?

I couldn't remember. But it must have felt like this, because this felt amazing, and why would I have joined if not for moments like this?

It didn't matter though, because I would remember this instead. Smiling, I gently squeezed his hand, and returned to my breathing exercise, suddenly finding it a lot easier. By no means was it a miracle cure, I still seized up and lost all my chill when I heard the train approach. But it took me a fraction of the time it had previously to regain my cool enough to step onto the train.

Our carriage was reasonably busy, but we still found a place to sit. We dropped hands but kept contact through our shoulders, pressed together to make room for other passengers. I glared at the floor and huffed breaths through my nose, only once gasping and tensing up at a surprise jerk over a rough part of the track.

"You're doing a lot better on the trains now, Rikka," Wedge assured me as we disembarked, lining up to buy our return tickets.

"That's good to hear," I said gratefully, still slightly queasy and skittish but smiling at him all the same. "Should we go straight to the theatre?"

I asked more as a formality; Wedge was almost vibrating with excitement. "Yeah!" he ordered, jogging ahead. The teen appeared more excited for my reunion with my old tutor than I let show. I buried my hands in my pockets to hide their light quivering, clenched my stomach to try to quell the butterflies, and marched after my friend while chewing on my lower lip.

"There really isn't any rush!" I called after Wedge, forcing a laugh.

He raised an eyebrow at me as he walked backwards, a few paces ahead. "You don't need to play it cool, y'know? We both know you're freaking out on the inside."

Just because he was completely right didn't mean he had to know it. "If you're looking at me for the reaction, you'll be looking at the wrong person. It's him who'll be freaking out."

Probably. Though as I knew him, he was the king of poker faces. But come on. Seeing his old student who supposedly died seven months ago? That was bound to rattle his cage. If anything could. I would.

Squinting at Wedge, I asked, "What's with the look?"

"Are you aware that you've got like, the biggest grin right now?" he asked, grinning himself. I was in fact aware of it. Now.

"Just thinking about how crazy his reaction will be," I retorted, dropping my absentminded grin and pressing my lips together.

"Sure." Wedge was not convinced, understandably so, but I glared at him anyway.

We arrived at the theatre as the sun was just starting to dip below the roofs of the high buildings, well over an hour before the play was due to begin. Around fifty people were already lined up outside the doors, closed and protected by two intimidating figures in black suits. Deciding to keep our distance, we walked by on the other side of the road, myself examining every eager customer's face with sharp mako eyes.

"You see him?" Wedge asked quietly. I grunted in the negative. "Hey, look, there's a café we can sit in. Looks close enough that we can see the entrance."

Wedge jogged ahead, perhaps unnerved by the guards. I followed at a more sedate pace, taking a breath to calm the accelerated thumping in my chest. Tea would be good. Tea might stop my heart exploding.

Elsewhere in the great city of Midgar, in the towering building at the heart of the metropolis, a SOLDIER: First Class offered his arm to a professor, armed with a needle of reinforced steel, the only type that could reliably penetrate the flesh of a SOLDIER. He did not react outwardly, as the needle was pushed through his skin and into a vein. The professor connected the needle to a tube with an empty blood bag on the end.

The SOLDIER didn't so much as blink, let alone look away, as the professor sighed heavily. "Are you alright?" he asked gruffly, his tone suggesting that he asked out of obligation more than genuine concern or interest.

"Yes," the SOLDIER replied, before looking down at his friend's hand, a similar needle and drip sprouting from it. "I just didn't expect him to look so pale."

"Genesis has always looked pale," the professor spoke dismissively, though the SOLDIER could appreciate that he was just trying to lighten the heavy mood. "He's not in any danger, I assure you. Not now, anyway."

The SOLDIER sighed, settling back in his chair, as the professor left the two friends to sit together in silence.