A/N: Thank you all so much for your kind words. My apologies for the delay in updates. Please enjoy this latest chapter, and I hope that I will be able to update more regularly.

CHAPTER FIVE - A PIECE OF THEIR PASTS

The Shinra laboratory was so quiet, one could make out the ticking hands of the clock on the wall.

Dozens of scientists stood frozen before the main monitor, watching with pale faces the final frames of the transmission from the scout drone. The Wasteland Terror, Hojo's prized experiment, now laid at the entrance of the Sector Seven slum, slain. Its grotesque, charred carapace had been brutally ripped apart. Blood pooled in the dirt, steam still rising from its severed limbs.

And standing over it, the warriors who had defeated it. Among them, a raven-haired man stood prominently with a giant buster sword strapped to his back.

A murmur of disdain broke the silence.

"Goddamn AVALANCHE."

A few nods followed. No one seemed to recognize the swordsman.

No one—except Hojo.

His fingers twitched. His lips paled.

That face… that sword. Impossible!

Ex-SOLDIER First Class, Zack Fair.

Seven years ago, in Nibelheim, Hojo had left him floating in mako, abandoned like all the other specimens whose bodies rejected the S Cells.

Unworthy of further study.

Uninteresting.

Useless.

He should have wasted away in that tank, his mind unraveling, his body succumbing to degradation like all the others.

And yet, here he stood, carving through one of Shinra's greatest bio-weapons as if it were nothing.

Why? Why hasn't he degraded?

And if he was here…

A sharp inhale. A realization slithered through Hojo's veins like icy venom.

The other specimen. Strife.

The boy had been declared dead—both of them had. The report had been signed off by some incompetent trooper commander outside Midgar, no doubt a lie to mask their own incompetence. But the screen did not lie.

And if Fair was alive, then perhaps he was, too.

So his experiment in Nibelheim had paid off in the end, after all.

Hojo's lips peeled back into a grin, his body trembling with quiet exhilaration. His laughter started as a low chuckle, then grew, rattling in his throat, spilling into the lab like a toxin.

The others shrank back, unsure whether to be relieved or terrified.

One of the scientists hesitated before speaking. "Sir, the experiment has failed—"

"Has it?" Hojo replied, rising to his feet. He spun on his heel, already striding for the exit.

He did not waste another word on them.

These feeble minds could never grasp the magnitude of what was unfolding. Their thoughts suffocated inside their dull, underdeveloped brains—pathetic. Explaining it to them would be like reciting equations to a cactuar.

Let them believe the experiment had failed.

Let them fumble in the dark while he walked in brilliant revelation.

Hojo's perfect vessel—the only one who had ever adapted flawlessly to the S Cells—was within his grasp again.

Hojo would not make the mistake of losing him a second time. This time, he would finish what he started.

…

The Wasteland Terror's attack on Sector 7 had lasted minutes. The aftermath, though? It would stretch on for days.

Shinra had locked down the slums—no trains, no traffic, no way in or out. The only ones coming through were medics and emergency teams from the neighboring sectors, bravely dodging Shinra patrols to help.

Now, deep into the night, the relief efforts rumbled on. Generators kicked up dust as they restored power to half-collapsed buildings. People stumbled through the wreckage, blood and dirt smeared on their faces.

Zack exhaled sharply, bracing himself as he hoisted a crate of medicine from the back of a Chocobo wagon. His bandaged shoulder screamed in protest, pain lancing from the gash on his shoulder down to his elbow.

"Whoa, easy there, Zack," Biggs said. Standing by the supply table, arms crossed, weight shifted to his good leg. His other leg was wrapped in so many bandages he looked half-mummified.

Zack forced a strained grin. "I'm alright."

Biggs scoffed.

"Uh-huh. That's what Wedge said before he blacked out."

From behind them, Jessie snorted. "Tsk. Hero complex, much?" She bumped Zack's good arm, flipping her hair over her fresh forehead bandage.

He chuckled. "And you don't?"

She winked. "Yeah, but I look good doing it."

Biggs sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I get it, Zack—you're some big-shot ex-SOLDIER, living legend, badass with a sword. But that shoulder's hanging on by a thread, so unless you wanna wake up missing an arm, maybe let someone else carry the heavy stuff?"

Zack exhaled, loosening his grip on the crate. "Alright, alright. You win."

Jessie smiled as she handed Zack a smaller crate.

"I mean, if you wanna sling me over your shoulder instead, I wouldn't complain—"

"Jess," Biggs groaned.

"Psych!" Jessie stuck her tongue out.

Barret strode past them, balancing three cases of water on his broad shoulders like they weighed nothing.

"Show off," Zack muttered under his breath.

"Heh. Ain't exactly hard to outwork a bleedin' man," Barret shot back with a rare grin before carrying on toward the tents. "Me, on the other hand, I ain't got time to bleed."

Jessie watched him go, a teasing smirk on her lips. "Aww, looks like Barret's warming up to you."

"Yeah, right." Zack scoffed, though he couldn't hide the amusement in his voice.

"I mean it. You did just save the slums and his daughter, too."

"He has a daughter?" Zack blinked. "Mister 'I ain't got time to bleed' has a daughter?"

"Oh yeah." Jessie's expression softened. "Marlene's his whole world. Smartest little girl I've ever met. Everything he does, he does for her." She tilted her head toward Barret, who had set the waters down on the supply table and was now crouched down, murmuring softly to a frightened boy clutching a torn moogle plush. "Don't let that badass demeanor and all the tattoos fool you. Tough as he acts, there's a heart of gold under all that muscle."

Zack followed her gaze, watching as Barret brought the child into a warm embrace with his good arm, his gruff voice gentler than Zack had ever heard.

A small smile tugged at Zack's lips. "Never would've guessed…"

Turning toward the wagon, he spotted Miriam feeding greens to her Chocobo.

"That's the last of the crates," Zack called out.

Miriam gave a quick nod.

"Good. Wymer and Lance should be coming in from Sector Six with more supplies soon. George and I are heading out for another run."

"You're not gonna rest at all?"

Miriam smiled tiredly, shaking her head. "Rest can wait. These people need us."

Zack exhaled, but nodded. "Just… be careful, alright? Shinra troops aren't letting any more people leave."

"Good thing I have ex-SOLDIER boy here to keep me safe," Miriam assured, jabbing George roughly in the gut.

"R-Right…" George chuckled nervously, rubbing his stomach. "We'll be fine."

Miriam climbed the wagon and flicked the reins. The Chocobo let out a happy crow, flapping its golden wings as it began to pull the wagon forward. Zack watched them disappear into the dimly lit streets before rolling his shoulders and getting back to work.

Miriam had barely gone a few blocks when a small scene caught her attention.

A little girl stood at the edge of the road, clutching a bright yellow flower. Kneeling in front of her was a young woman in a soft pink dress, gently smoothing down the child's messy hair. The woman's smile was warm, her voice light with reassurance.

"...and sometimes, those we love return to the planet," she was saying. "But the planet always gives us signs of their love or us… their memories. There, that's much better. A beautiful little flower for a beautiful little girl. Keep it safe, okay?"

Slowing her wagon, Miriam observed them curiously. The young woman stood up, dusting off her dress, then turned as she noticed the approaching cart.

"Hey there," Miriam called, offering a wave. "Don't think I've seen you around here. You're not from Sector Seven, are you?"

The woman gave a sheepish laugh, shaking her head. "No, I was coming home from selling flowers in the city when the Terror attacked. Trains shut down, and they made us all get off, so… I'm kind of stranded until they reopen." She sighed. "Mom's gonna kill me."

Miriam glanced at her Chocobos, then back at the woman. "Lucky for you, I've got a wagon and a little time. Where's home?"

The woman's eyes lit up. "Sector Five slums."

Miriam huffed a small laugh. "What are the odds? That's where I'm headed." She gestured toward the cart. "Hop on."

The woman hesitated, glancing at George. "Oh, I don't want to impose. I do have a little cash; maybe I can find a place to stay here until they open the trains again."

"After everything that just happened? Nonesense! Besides, old George here's happy to ride in the back," Miriam interrupted, jabbing George again, harder this time.

Without hesitation, George nodded and slid off his seat and hopped into the wagon bed.

"See? He's a gentleman," Miriam said with a smirk.

The woman chuckled, charmed by the interaction. "Well, in that case… thanks." She grabbed her flower basket, giving the orphan girl's hand a gentle squeeze before climbing up. As Miriam guided the reins, she glanced over her shoulder.

"I'm Miriam, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Miriam," the woman said, her voice bright with gratitude. She tucked a stray strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, flashing a cheerful smile.

"I'm Aerith."

…

As Zack stepped away from the supply tent, his gaze caught on a small boy standing nearby, eyes fixed on something. Following his line of sight, Zack spotted a lunchbox sitting next to Wedge's unconscious form.

Zack glanced back at the kid. His clothes were tattered, his face smudged with dirt, but it was the way he licked his lips, staring at the lunchbox that got to him.

Zack sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. "Alright, alright. Hang tight, kid."

He crouched down beside Wedge, popping open the lunchbox and rummaging through its contents. "Let's see what we've got here… Ooh, jackpot." He pulled out a neatly wrapped sandwich with three thick slices of ham, and gave it an approving nod. "Man, Wedge eats good."

Turning back to the boy, he held it out.

"Here, little guy. You hungry? Lucky for you, my buddy Wedge won't mind sharing while he's, uh… taking a nap."

The boy hesitated, glancing between Zack and the sandwich.

"Go on," Zack encouraged, his voice warm. "Eat this, and you'll be as strong as a Vajradhara in no time."

The kid sniffled but took the sandwich, clutching it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"But," Zack added, holding up a finger, "you gotta promise me one thing first."

The boy blinked up at him.

"Be brave, yeah? And take care of your mom."

A slow, solemn nod. Then, without another word, the boy turned and hurried back to his unconscious mother, the sandwich still clutched tightly in his tiny hands. The boy tore open the wrap and halved the sandwich, setting the bigger slice next to his mother and wolfing down his half.

Zack watched them for a moment, something stirring in his chest. Familiar memories tried to creep in about his own father and mother, how sometimes his dad would skip a meal just so he and his mother could eat. The reason he left to become SOLDIER, aside for the promise of adventure of course, was to give them a better life… but he pushed those thoughts aside. No time for that now.

He exhaled and rolled his shoulder, wincing as a sharp sting flared across his side. Zack reached over and removed his torn shoulder pauldron, and glanced down at the deep gash along his shoulder—only, it wasn't as deep anymore. The wound had already begun to close, angry red flesh knitting itself together at an unnatural pace. SOLDIER genes. Mako healing. He'd be fine in a few hours.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. Or itched!
He resisted the urge to claw at the raw, itching skin with a grimace.

With a final sigh, he fastened the pouldron over his shoulder and began to stretch—then froze. Someone stood alone on a nearby hill, watching.

Chadley?

The boy stood still, his back to the camp, staring down at something glinting in his hands. He didn't react as Zack approached, his boots crunching softly on the dirt.

Zack stopped a few steps away, studying him. Usually so composed, Chadley looked depressed as he continued to stare down at the gem in his hands.

"Chadley?" Zack asked gently. "You alright? What's on your mind?"

"Zack!" Chadley replied the way he always did, only this time he hesitated before speaking again. "I… I'm fine. I was just analyzing the data on the Wasteland Terror."

Zack tilted his head. "Yeah? What'd you find?"

At that, Chadley straightened up and his youthful, charismatic demeanor returned.

"Its real name is the Crimson Kalimera. They come from an island near Costa del Sol. When a young Kalimera reaches maturity, it searches for a precious gem to give to its mother. This gem serves as a symbol of their bond, proof that they're ready to leave the nest and set out on their own; a sort of rite of passage into adulthood. The mother keeps it for the rest of her life."

Zack blinked. "So… you're saying there's more of them?"

"I'm saying it had a family." Chadley's grip tightened around the stone in his hands. He lifted it up to show Zack. "I found this embedded in its body. My scans show that the Wasteland Terror was a young Kalimera trying to return home to its mother and siblings with this gem." His voice grew quieter. "But then… Shinra captured him. They… we…"

He stared down at the gem again, then looked up at Zack, crossing his arms.

"Zack. I feel... conflicted."

Zack stayed quiet, letting him process his thoughts.

"As a researcher, I love learning about the world and wildlife. But as someone who values life…" Chadley exhaled shakily. "This feels wrong. This wasn't some mindless monster, like Hojo's experiments. It was a child. And now its mother is waiting for it to come home." He clenched the gem. "But it never will."

"Yeah," Zack sighed, leaning against the fence beside him, staring out at the ruins, at the remains of the Kalimera, which was beginning to dissolve into the Lifestream, at the rows of bodies covered in tarps, waiting to be picked up and buried. "That's Shinra for you. They don't care what they destroy, just what they can use."

And as he spoke, an uncomfortable truth settled in his gut.

Shinra had done the same thing to him.

They lured in young men like him with promises of greatness, of heroism. They shaped them into weapons. And when they were no longer useful? They were discarded. Just like this Kalimera.

"Now you're seein' the truth."

The gravelly voice made Zack turn.

Barret stood a few feet away from them. He reached up and took off his sunglasses, and for the first time, Zack saw his eyes—raw with anger, but beneath that, something deeper, perhaps a smoldering grief. The kind that someone who'd lived through the same pain carried.

"Ain't it exhaustin'?" Barret asked, stepping closer, lowering his voice. "Watchin' 'em get away with it? Shinra crushin' lives, ruinin' families, destroyin' the planet, while people like us are left behind to pick up the pieces?"

Zack exhaled sharply, thumbs hooking into his belt loops. "Of course it is. But what can anyone do against Shinra? They own Midgar. They damn near own the whole world."

"That's what they want you to believe." Barret's voice burned with conviction. "But let me tell you somethin', Zack. One man with fire in his heart is worth more than a whole damn army of suits and their guns." He leaned in slightly. "And you ain't just any man, are you?"

Zack stiffened.

Barret smirked. "Biggs said you used to be SOLDIER First Class. That means you fought their battles. Killed for 'em. Lied to yourself—same as all of 'em—thinkin' you were some kinda hero while they pulled the strings and made you dance, boy."

Zack's jaw tightened and his folded hands balled into fists… but he was right. He was right.

"But now you know the truth." Barret's voice dropped lower. "And the way I see it? You got two choices. You can look the other way, pretend it don't matter, go on livin' like Shinra ain't got its boot on this city—on you and your friends. Or," he gestured toward the Buster Sword at Zack's back, "you can fight like hell to make sure somethin' like this don't happen again."

Silence stretched between them.

Zack's fists clenched and unclenched as he studied Barret's expression. What was he really offering here? A cause? A purpose? Another war? The man's fire was undeniable, that same righteous fury Zack had seen in others before, but where had that ever led? Shinra, SOLDIER, Wutai, all the battles he'd fought thinking he was on the right side… all it had ever done was take from him.

His shoulders sagged slightly as he exhaled. Then, after a long pause, he shook his head.

"Sorry, Barret. I spent years being the good soldier, doing what I was told, believing in something bigger. But in the end, it was all just lies. I'll always fight for people who can't fight for themselves, but Shinra… SOLDIER… the endless war… I'm done with all of it. Right now, the only thing that matters is getting Cloud back on his feet and making it home to Aerith."

As soon as he said their names, he cursed himself. He'd just given this man leverage against him.

But Barret only studied him, his expression softening slightly. "Cloud… Aerith… These are your people?"

Zack didn't respond, but held Barret's gaze warily.

Barret sighed, glancing down at his metal arm. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "I got people that I care about, too. Some of 'em I've lost along the way, others depend on me with their lives." He met Zack's gaze. "You cherish 'em, don't you? Enough to wanna make this world a better place for 'em? 'Cause that's all I'm tryin' to do, man. I ain't no different from you."

"...Maybe," Zack said, waving his hand dismissively. "Even so, what's a small neighborhood watch from the slums supposed to do to take on Shinra?"

"Heh. Good question," Barret smiled and clapped Zack's good shoulder twice before turning away. "Just think on what I've said. Get some rest. And if you're ready to hear the answer… swing by Seventh Heaven at midnight. We'll talk."

With that, he walked off into the night.

Zack turned back to Chadley, who said nothing, only offering him a small, knowing smile. He raised the Kalimera's gem, offering it to him.

"My, my," Chadley mused. "What an intriguing proposition."

Zack exhaled, taking the gem with a tsk.

Damn it.

…

Zack worked himself to the bone, hauling crates, tending to the wounded, and reinforcing shelters until his legs threatened to buckle beneath him. It wasn't until Wymer all but shoved him back toward the clinic that he finally relented.

The tiny building was packed. Every cot was filled, bodies pressed close in the cramped space. Zack wove his way through, careful not to step on outstretched limbs or knock over hastily placed IV stands. In the far corner, past rows of the wounded, Grant had set up the mako therapy machines for Cloud.

Every night, tubes and wires tethered Cloud to the old purification system, cycling endlessly in its attempt to rid his body of the poison that flowed through his veins.

Cloud lay motionless on the cot, his breathing shallow, uneven. The faint hum of the machine filled the space between them, punctuated by the soft, rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Wires snaked from Cloud's arms, pulsing with the slow, mechanical effort of filtering his blood. His face was pale, lips parted slightly, caught somewhere between dream and waking.

Zack sat down heavily on the bench he had claimed these past few nights. His muscles ached, his mind sluggish with exhaustion. He wanted to keep watch, to stay alert in case Cloud stirred. But the steady, hypnotic beeping and exhaustion of the long day finally wrapped around him, pulling him under.

His head dipped forward. Sleep took him before he could fight it.

…

In the dream, Cloud was on the ground, resting against a large boulder, watching up as the dark storm clouds rolled over Midgar, covering the barren wasteland outside Midgar with a tenebrous darkness. The air was thick with the scent of blood and gunpowder.

He recognized this place.

He knew this place.

The battle had already ended. Shinra's soldiers stood in rigid formation, their rifles trained on a lone warrior. Wounded, battered, dying, yet unbowed, he clung to his sword with trembling fingers, refusing to fall.

ZACK!

Cloud wanted to move. He tried to crawl forward, to call out. But he couldn't.

His body wasn't his own.

Instead, he watched it all unfold in front of him like a ghost in his own skin.

Ahead of him, Zack fell on his knees, panting, his body riddled with wounds.

A Shinra trooper stepped forward and leveled his rifle at Zack's torso. Zack tried to bring his sword up to block, but it slipped from his fingers, landing in the bloodied mud below. Defenseless now, all he could do was stare as the trooper prepared to kill him.

Cloud's mind screamed, but his lips never moved.

He knew what was coming.

The soldier pulled the trigger.

Bang!

Zack's body jerked from the impact. Fresh blood sprayed onto the ground.

Bang!

His breath hitched, his arms trembling as he struggled to stay upright.

Bang!

His body slumped backward, motionless.

Cloud felt something shatter inside him.
"Z-Zack!"

The sound was weak. Helpless.

With a sudden flash of static, Cloud found himself kneeling beside Zack's broken form. The heat of blood seeped into his gloves as he reached out, lifting Zack's back onto his lap, taking him into his arms.

Zack's breath was ragged, shallow. His once-vibrant blue eyes, stained by the blood that had seeped into them from his wounds, locked onto Cloud's.

Cloud wanted to scream, to fight, to wake up from this nightmare.

Zack just smiled. Even now, at the end, he smiled.

His bloodied fingers curled weakly around the Buster Sword, lifting it with the last of his strength.

"Cloud… My hopes… my dreams…" His voice was barely a whisper. "They're yours now."

Cloud's hands moved on their own, wrapping around the massive sword's hilt.

"I'm… your—" His lips moved before he could stop them.

No, shut up!

He didn't want to say it. But the words spilled from his mouth like a curse.

"…living legacy."

Zack's fingers slipped from the sword. His body twitched—once, twice—then fell silent.

Cloud stared down at Zack's lifeless body.

Something shifted in the air. A shadow loomed over him.

The soldier who killed Zack was standing over Cloud. He could almost see the green tint in his eyes… But he didn't raise his gun to kill Cloud. The soldier just stood there with a cruel grin, staring at him silently.

Cloud's body didn't react. He remained kneeling, cradling Zack's lifeless form, as the trooper finally crouched beside him.

"Oh, Cloud. You know the truth. You know that I killed him, don't you? You saw it with your own eyes," the soldier murmured. "So tell me… who is he?"

Cloud's slowly looked up from Zack's body. The mocking words burrowed into his skull like a parasite, twisting, curling around his thoughts like tendrils of poison.

Zack was dead. He had just watched him die.

Cloud clenched his teeth, shaking his head. No. No, this wasn't real. This wasn't how it happened.

Zack was alive.

They had made it to Midgar together. Cloud had saved him. Hadn't he?

He tightened his grip on Zack's still-warm body, willing the truth to hold, to anchor him against the storm rising in his mind.

But the soldier only chuckled.

"Look at him, Cloud."

Cloud refused.

"Look. At. HIM!"

The soldier reached down, grasping Zack's chin, tilting his head toward Cloud. Zack's beautiful blue eyes were dull now, unfocused, staring through him.

Cloud squeezed his eyes shut.

"No," he choked out. "I—I saved him. We made it to Midgar. He's alive."

The soldier's grin widened. "Is he?"

Cloud felt his stomach twist.

"He's waiting for you, isn't he? Back at the clinic. You've spoken with him. Touched him." The soldier leaned in, his breath cold against Cloud's ear. "But how can that be… when he's already dead?"

"No!" Cloud shouted, shaking his head violently. "That's not true! That's not—"

The laughter that followed was soft at first, a low tremor in the darkness. Then it grew, warping into something familiar. A sound that crawled beneath Cloud's skin, slithered into his mind, coiling around his memories like a serpent. Suddenly, the fires of Nibelheim surrounded Cloud in a nightmarish ring.

"Face it, Cloud" the trooper whispered, voice smooth as silk, heavy with cruel amusement, a voice he hadn't heard in so long. "You couldn't save any of them. You couldn't save him. You couldn't even save yourself."

His words slithered into Cloud's skull, warping, shifting, twisting what Cloud knew to be true.

Had they really made it to Midgar together?

Had he really saved Zack?

Or had it all been a lie?

Cloud's fingers trembled as they clutched Zack's lifeless body. His chest ached, his vision blurred. The world around him began to distort, melting into a void of darkness.

Cloud screamed.

It was a sound ripped straight from his soul, a raw, shattered wail that echoed into the blood-soaked sky. He threw his head back, tears cutting down his dirt-streaked face, his heart hammering against his chest as his world collapsed around him.

And like a terrified child, he cried out for his mother.
…

Cloud's scream tore through the small clinic.

Zack jolted awake at the sound of it. He barely had time to register what was happening before he saw Cloud convulsing violently on the cot.

The machines hooked up to him blared in protest, red lights flashing, beeps spiking into an erratic, frantic rhythm.

Cloud's body arched violently, his hands clawing at the restraints as if something unseen was consuming him from the inside out. His fingers flexed, trembling, then struck out. One of the monitors exploded in a shower of sparks, sending pieces of metal and glass clattering to the floor.

Zack barely had time to react before Cloud's hand shot out again, tearing through another wire, sending another piece of equipment into a short-circuiting frenzy. The scent of burnt plastic filled the air.

"Shit—Cloud! Stop!" Zack lunged forward, grabbing Cloud's shoulders, but it was like trying to restrain a wild animal.

Dr. Grant burst through the curtains, eyes wide. "What the hell is going on?!"

Zack gritted his teeth. "Help me, doc! He's—"

Cloud's arm jerked violently, knocking over another stand. IV fluid spilled across the floor. Another machine sputtered, short-circuiting as sparks licked up its broken wires.

A loud crack splintered through the air.

Zack whipped his head around just in time to see Cloud's foot slam into the side of the cot, bending the metal frame. His chest heaved, sweat glistening on his skin, lips twitching in incoherent murmurs. His fingers clenched and unclenched, grasping at something unseen.

"Damn it! Restrain him, Zack!" Grant cursed. He spun toward the supply cabinet, yanking it open. His hands moved frantically over the remaining bottles. "I'll give him a sedative."

Cloud's chest convulsed and then his eyes snapped open.

Zack's stomach dropped.

For a fleeting moment, Cloud's pupils were thin, vertical slits, his irises glowing an unnatural, luminous green. It was barely a second—so quick Zack almost doubted what he saw—but the wrongness of it sent ice flooding through his veins.

Cloud's lips parted, and in a hoarse whisper, a single word passed them.

"M-Mother…"

Zack's blood ran cold.

"I've got it!" Grant cried, running in a syringe. "Quick, show me his arm!"

He jabbed the syringe and pressed the plunger. The sedative emptied into Cloud's veins, and within seconds, the tension melted from his body. His breathing slowed, his fingers uncurled from the sheets. His face, twisted with fear moments ago, slackened into exhaustion.

Zack let out a shaky breath, only now realizing how hard his hands were gripping Cloud's shoulders.

Grant swore under his breath. "Damn mako poisoning…" He scrubbed a hand down his face before looking around at the wreckage Cloud had left behind.

One of the IV stands was bent beyond repair. Two machines were either fried or destroyed. The wires and tubes that had been filtering Cloud's system were now in shambles.

"Shit," Grant muttered. "We needed those."

Zack followed his gaze, his gut sinking.

"Please tell me we can fix them, Doc!" he said.

Grant let out a hollow laugh. "Sure. With the right parts. Which I don't have." He shook his head. "That was the last of the sedatives too."

"What? The last one?" Zack's jaw clenched.

Grant turned to him. "We need money, Zack. I can't keep Cloud stable if I don't have supplies. I've got people coming in every hour from the Terror attack, bleeding, screaming from injuries I can barely treat." His fingers dug into his arms. "I'm running out of supplies and options."

What do we do, what do we do, what do we do…?

Wymer's voice drifted through his mind, back when they'd first heard of the attack of the Wasteland Terror. A reward had been mentioned…
"The Mercenary Union's putting out 150,000 gil to all Guild members to come out and fight."

Wymer had made it clear that he couldn't collect any rewards on Guild contracts without being part of a guild. But hadn't Barret offered to make him part of their group? He'd shrugged off his ridiculous offer to get involved with them at all. But now…

His gaze flickered to the shelf of empty bottles. To the bloodstained rags piled in a corner. To Cloud's barely stable form lying on the cot.

Barret's offer didn't sound so ridiculous anymore.

Zack exhaled and reached into his pocket, feeling for the gem that Chadley had given him. A precious gem…

"I'm sorry, Zack," Grant said with a tired sigh. "I don't mean to put all this on you. You've already done so much for us…"

"That's alright… don't worry, Doc. I'll take care of it," Zack said. "I have some ideas."

…

Zack had tried to sell the gem at every shop still open, but the shopkeepers either turned him away or tried to rip him off. The last guy, a sketchy young man with a orange faux-hawk and a weaselly smirk had offered him a 'generous' 250 gil. 'I'll even throw in a Gold Saucer soudtrack – mint condition!'

Zack had given him a tight-lipped smile and walked out.

That left him with only one real option: claiming the bounty on the Wasteland Terror. Problem was, he still wasn't part of a guild. Maybe Barret could put in a good word, get him on the Watch's payroll—assuming they hadn't already scooped up the reward for themselves. Wouldn't be the first time they screwed him over, after the Doomrat job.

Zack pushed the thoughts from his mind as he arrived at the entrance of the bar at the center of the slums.

Seventh Heaven.

Even after everything that had happened earlier, the western style bar felt alive, as if nothing had happened at the edge of the slums. This far away from the edge, they probably didn't really feel the effects of the Terror's attack. Or maybe they had and this was just how people coped down here; drown out the chaos with laughter, with food and drinks and entertainment, with the illusion that things were normal.

Zack pushed open the saloon style doors and was instantly greeted by the warm glow of the ceiling lamps. The smell of old liquor and grilled food lingered in the air along with the overlapping conversations of the patrons that crowded the bar. The sounds of a pinball machine mixed with the jazzy tunes played by an old wooden jukebox in the corner. It was all so oddly comforting, Zack had to admit. Almost nostalgic, even.

His eyes swept the room, half-expecting to see the giant Barret standing out among all of the patrons, but instead, his gaze landed on Jessie, lounging at a table near the back. Two drinks sat in front of her, condensation pooling around the glasses.

The moment she spotted him, her face lit up. "Hey, SOLDIER boy!"

"Jessie?" Zack said. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting stood up, apparently!" Jessie laughed. "Luckily you're here—perfect timing!"

Zack smirked, making his way over. "Didn't know I was on a schedule."

"Well, you're on the clock now," Jessie lifted one of the glasses and placed it in front of him, nodding toward the empty seat across from her. "I was supposed to have a date tonight, but—big surprise—the guy bailed as soon as he heard the Terror was coming. So now, I've got an extra drink and no one to share it with." She shot him a lopsided grin. "Lucky you."

"Sorry, Jess. Maybe another time," Zack said, scanning the bar again. "I'm actually just here to see Barret. Is he around?"

"Nah, he's out running an errand, but he'll be back soon. So, in the meantime…" She lifted her glass and pointed at the empty chair in front of him. "Sit. Drink. Keep me company."

Zack hesitated. Dammit, another dead end. He needed gil, and Cloud needed medicine, fast. He didn't have time for this.

Jessie must've caught the tension in his face because her voice softened, just slightly.

"C'mon." She nudged the glass toward him again. "You look like you need this more than I do. Just one?"

"Okay, fine," Zack exhaled, then chuckled as he picked up the glass. "That obvious, huh?"

Jessie raised hers in a silent toast. "Oh, yeah. Painfully obvious."

He smirked, tapping his glass against hers.

"Guess I could use a minute to breathe."

"Attaboy." Jessie leaned back, taking a sip.

Zack took a slow sip. The burn was sharp, but it helped clear some of the haze from his mind. He glanced around the bar. "No Biggs and Wedge?"

Jessie sighed dramatically, swirling her drink. "Wedge woke up about an hour ago. If I had to guess, he's elbows-deep in a plate of something greasy and delicious right now. Biggs, though, is probably doing his post-battle ritual."

"Let me guess," Zack chuckled after taking another sip. "Cleaning his house."

"Wow, you really do know him, huh?" Jessie teased.

"Biggs and I go way back," Zack said with a smile. "He was one of the older kids at the Leaf House. Even back then, he was always cleaning, dusting, brushing down the walls, fixing up the floorboards…"

"Oh that's right, the Leaf House," Jessie leaned in, intrigued. "that orphanage in Sector Five, right?"

"Yeah. That's where he grew up." Zack nodded. "He joined when he was five. Before that, he was just a kid wandering Wall Market, crashing wherever he could. So the House meant everything to him. Keeping it clean and fixing things up was his way of proving to himself that he had a home. Funny enough, that's actually where we met."

Jessie took a slow sip. "Alright, now this I gotta hear."

"Right," Zack exhaled, and glanced away, slightly embarrassed. "So… there was this girl."

Jessie rolled her eyes.

"Oh, of course there was."

Zack laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Her name's Aerith. My first love. She lived near the orphanage, helped out with the kids a lot. Helped maintain the flowers in an old rundown church near the House. After we met, she and I started seeing each other after that, but her mom hated that her daughter was dating a SOLDIER. Every time I showed up at her house, she'd slam the door in my face. So… Biggs would let me crash at the Leaf House. Sometimes he'd look the other way so that Aerith could sneak in and we could spend some time together."

"You scoundrel!" Jessie burst out laughing. "No wonder Mama Bear didn't want you around."

"Hey, nothing happened!" Zack quickly defended, holding up his hands. "Nothing ever happened. We would just talk, or play with the kids. Sometimes I'd just sit there and listen to her sing. She's got this pretty – No! Beautiful singing voice…!"

Zack's expression softened. "Back then, coming to see her in between my missions… It was the only time I felt… normal. Just a guy, not a SOLDIER. No war, no Shinra—just us." He exhaled. "Best moments of my life."

Jessie watched him for a moment, then leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table. "So… what's stopping you?"

Zack blinked. "Huh?"

"Sector Five's not that far from here. You could go see her right now."

Zack hesitated. The thought had crossed his mind—more times than he could count. But he exhaled and shook his head. "I can't. Not right now."

Jessie frowned slightly. "Why not?"

"I've got someone depending on me. A friend," Zack said, his smile melting instantly. "He's… really sick. And the doctor taking care of him is running out of medicine. We need money desperately. That's why I came here—to ask Barret for help."

Jessie knocked back the last of her drink before setting the glass down with a sigh. "Barret? How's Barret gonna help?"

Zack leaned back. "Well… I took down the Wasteland Terror."

"Yeah," Jessie said carefully. "I was there, remember?"

Zack chuckled. "Right. But I mean—I was the one who killed it."

Jessie hesitated, then nodded. "You were."

Jessie exhaled through her nose. She knew where this was going.

"I figured," Zack went on, "if I could just get in with the Watch, I could claim the reward. I think Barret was offering me a job, so I thought, hey—two birds, one stone and all that."

Shit! Jessie felt a knot tighten in her stomach and Zack noticed.

He frowned. "What?"

Jessie shifted uncomfortably in her chair and offered an apologetic smile. "Yeah, so… about that reward…"

Zack's expression didn't change. He just stared at her.

"It's, uh…" she winced and wrinkled her nose. "…gone."

Silence.

Zack blinked once.

"Gone," he repeated flatly.

Jessie hesitated for half a second, then sighed and pushed forward. "The reward for taking out the Wasteland Terror went to the Neighborhood Watch."

"But… we took it down together."

Jessie melted in her chair, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "Yeah. But the Watch is an official guild under the Mercenary Union. Barret filed the claim before you even got back."

Zack's hands curled into loose fists on the table. His jaw worked as if he wanted to say something, but he just took a slow breath instead.

"So, what, you're telling me is that the 150k is… gone."

"Yeahhh…" Jessie cringed. "Pretty much. I'm really, really sorry… I know it's a shitty deal, but…"

Zack let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Wow."

Jessie bit her lip. "Zack—"

"It really happened again," he muttered under his breath.

That hurt. Jessie could see it, the way his shoulders sank just a little, the way he stared at his empty glass. It was the same thing that happened with the Doomrats. Clear the nest, take all the risk, only for them to take the reward because he legally couldn't.

It had happened again.

Jessie wanted to say something. Anything. But what could she possibly say?

She looked down, unable to meet Zack's eyes for the first time that night.

Zack exhaled, then forced a grin—one of those half-hearted, lopsided smiles that looked more sad than joyful. "Guess that means I need another plan, huh?"

He pushed his chair back and stood.

Jessie hesitated. Then, with a quiet sigh, she stood up too.

"Zack… wait," she said.

Zack frowned. "Jessie, I don't have time for more drinks…"

"Just trust me, okay? Don't go anywhere," she said. "I'll be right back."

Before he could press further, she turned on her heel and walked out of the bar.

Zack sat back down, tapping his fingers idly against the table as voices and laughter swirled around him. He wasn't listening.

He understood how things worked. The Watch was an official guild. They filed the paperwork. It wasn't personal.

But damn, it still stung.

Minutes passed before Jessie returned. She didn't say anything at first—just pulled up a chair, sat down, and slid a small pouch across the table.

Zack looked at it, then at her.

"Here," she said. "My cut of the reward. It's only thirty thousand gil, but it's yours."

Zack blinked. "Jessie, I can't—"

"You can and you will." She leaned back, arms crossed, a guilty look flashing across her face. "I… I screwed you over, Zack. We all did. You were the one who went after that monster when all of us had given up, and then I just… took the payout with the others. I know how much you need this money. So this is me making it right."

"Will you be fine, though?" Zack hesitated, eyeing the pouch. "I don't want to leave with you nothing, either."

"I'll manage," Jessie grinned, tilting her head. "But hey, if you don't want gil, I could pay you back some other way." She winked. "My place isn't far, you know…"

Zack coughed, quickly grabbing the pouch. "Nope! Nope, this is fine. Gil is good. Thank you."

Jessie laughed, the sound warm and teasing. "Psych!" She winked. "You're cute when you panic."

Before Zack could respond, Jessie pulled out a small box from her pocket. She sat down across from him and slid it onto the table.

"Here," she said.

Zack eyed the box, then her. "What's this?"

"It's for you," Jessie nudged it toward him. "Just open it."

So he did.

Inside was a pair of mythril earrings, shaped like Fenrir's head, a ring clamped between the wolf's fangs. They were old but well cared for.

Zack furrowed his brow. "...earrings…?"

"Guild emblems," Jessie corrected. Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. "From my old guild. If you wear them, Wymer'll recognize you as a guild member. That means you can start taking contracts."

Zack stared at her, then back at the earrings.

"You sure? Just like that?"

"Yeah! Hey, I'll have you know I dated the Fenrir leader's son. If I say you're in, your in," Jessie smirked, but there was something softer in her expression now. "I figure it's the least I can do. We kinda screwed you over back there."

"Yeah," Zack exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head. "You really did. But… thanks."

"Yeah, well," she said, leaning on one elbow. "Don't mention it."

Zack held the earrings between his fingers, then, after a moment, slipped them on.

"Looks good on you," Jessie watched him, her smirk shifting into a satisfied smile. Then, almost to herself, she murmured, "You look just like him..."

Zack glanced up. "Who?"

"Yeah… just like him. Well, minus the blonde hair and the pretty sky blue eyes…" Jessie smiled fondly. "My old boyfriend. Luke. These were his. Back when I was riding with his guild— Fenrir."

"Oh, right. The Guild Leader's son?" Zack asked, amused.

Jessie smirked. "Luke wasn't just the leader's son. He was the guy. You ever meet someone who made you believe in something just by the way they carried themselves? Like their ideas are something worth living for?"

Zack thought of Angeal. Of Sephiroth, before everything went to hell.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"That was Luke," Jessie said, eyes distant. "He wasn't the strongest fighter or the fastest. But he had this way of making people want to be better, just by being around him. I met him after my acting career took a nosedive, and I was forced to work cleaning tables at the Saucer. I lied to my parents, told them I was going on a world tour, and ran away with him. We were free! We took on jobs from here to Correl and back, made a name for ourselves, and for a while… I thought that was it. That was gonna be our life."

Her fingers traced the rim on her glass, lost in the memory.

"Then Luke met them. AVALANCHE. After that, he said he couldn't just take jobs and live for himself anymore. Not when he saw the way the planet was suffering under Shinra. I didn't get it at first, but I loved him…" She exhaled. "So I followed."

"...Jessie," Zack breathed. "You're with AVALANCHE?" His voice rose slightly in surprise.

"What? You gonna rat me out?" Jessie teased.

"N-No! No way!" Zack lowered his voice to a whisper. "But AVALANCHE, Jess? That's a terrorist group!"

Jessie crossed her arms, giving him a smirk. "Oh? And what does that make me then? A terrorist?"

Zack hesitated. "Depends. Were you involved with the bombing of the Shinra office buildings in Sector Five? Or the mass shooting that killed all those working on the reactor outside of Kalm?"

Jessie scoffed. "Hell no! That was HQ bullshit. That's why the schism happened in the first place. We wanted to save the planet, but HQ was obsessed with destroying Shinra, no matter the cost. So when AVALANCHE started fighting itself over how to win, Luke stuck with HQ. Our cell… we didn't."

Zack nodded.

"Right… the schism. I remember reading about it from the reports of the other First Class."

Jessie studied him. "What did you hear?"

Zack sighed. "That AVALANCHE turned on itself. HQ wanted to go full-scale war against Shinra, while some of the cells wanted to fight smarter—hit Shinra where it hurt, but not at the cost of innocent lives." His jaw clenched slightly. "Shinra didn't care either way. They just let you all tear each other apart and cleaned up whoever was left standing."

Jessie was quiet for a long moment. Then, she nodded. "Luke died in one of those fights. It was a raid against the main Shinra Building. HQ made it in as far as LOVELESS street, but they got ambushed. Shinra sent a whole damn army after them. They told me that Luke held out as long as he could. Long enough for some of his people to escape. But in the end…" She paused and looked down at her empty glass. Her eyes moistened. "They gave me his stuff afterwards. Said he'd want me to have them."

Zack felt something heavy settle in his chest.
He did remember reading about the incursion of the terrorists. He had been in the area dealing with Wutai remnants when the attack happened.

Only it hadn't been Shinra troops that had taken out AVALANCHE.

It had been the Turks. Zack had even celebrated with them after their successful operation. Shared drinks with Cissnei, Tseng, Rude and Reno. Had called them heroes…

Suddenly he felt sick. We toasted to their defeat… to their deaths.

Zack exhaled. "Jessie, I…" He hesitated. "I don't know what to say."

She smirked, but shook her head. "There's nothing to say, really. It was a long time ago. We were just young people following orders. We must've been 16 or so around the time."

"Yeah. So was I…" Zack said in a low tone. "Just turned 17…"

"Kids killing kids because old men hate each other…" Jessie said in a somber tone.

Zack's thoughts briefly returned to the Kalimera, the so-called Wasteland Terror. And he thought of Cloud, too…

For a long moment, they just sat there, the noise of the bar fading into the background. They had each given each other a piece of their pasts. A part of themselves. And Zack, for all his own losses, felt a little less alone because of it.

"Jessie…" Zack said, giving her a genuine smile. "Thank you."

Jessie let out a small, shaky breath and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Ugh, listen to me, getting all weepy on you," she muttered, sniffling. "You know what? We need more drinks."

"Fine, one more drink," Zack chuckled.

Jessie leaned back in her seat and waved a hand toward the bar. "Hey, can we get some more drinks over here?"

As they waited, Zack took the Fenrir emblem in his hand and analyzed it. There was something… familiar about it. He had seen it before… but where? Where…? Suddenly, it hit him!

The Fenrir with the ring in its mouth… it was the same design as the mythril pendant that Cloud had tried to give him in Junon, all those years ago!

"This was my father's," Cloud had said at the time. "Guess it means something from where he came from. He gave it to mother back when they got married. Said it represented strength and loyalty and courage… She said he was some kind of wandering warrior. Someone who never backed down from a mission. In the end, it's what got him killed."

Zack's eyes widened in disbelief as the dots began to connect.

"You look just like him, well, minus the blonde hair and the pretty sky blue eyes… He was the leader's son."

"Hey, Jess… about Luke's dad, the leader of Fenrir… what was his last name?"

But Jessie wasn't paying attention.

"Ah for the love of," Jessie was grumbling. "Hey, yo, Midgar to Tifa Lockhart! Another round for the Hero who saved the Slums, please?"

The name hit Zack like a physical blow, pulling him from his thoughts instantly. He stiffened.

Tifa… Lockhart?

Something about it felt familiar, like a deeply buried memory trying to claw its way back.

Tifa… Tifa…

Then he saw her.

"Coming right up!" Tifa turned at Jessie's call, balancing a tray of glasses in one hand and a bottle in the other. Long dark hair, red eyes, an air of quiet confidence wrapped in warmth—until her gaze landed on him.

"Another round for our… hero…"
The world tilted for both of them.

Nibelheim.

It all came rushing back to him. The reactor looming in the cold heights of Mount Nibel. The scent of smoke and blood burned Zack's nose. And there, sprawled across the steel walkway, was a girl in a leather vest, boots and skirt—her body limp, a deep, crimson gash seeping across her white shirt.

He had been sure the girl was dead.
Yet here she was, standing in front of him, alive.

Tifa's face went pale. Her breath froze in her lungs, and her fingers tightened around the bottle in her grip. Zack saw it; the moment it all came rushing back for her, too.

The night Sephiroth burned Nibelheim.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her stricken, wide eyes locked onto his, and for a second, it was like no time had passed at all.

Then the bottle slipped from her hands, hitting the floor and shattering.
The sound rang through the bar like a gunshot.

And just like that, the past came roaring back to her as well.

"No way," Zack whispered. "Tifa?"

"You!" Tifa cried, the word escaping her like a curse, echoing through the stunned silence of the bar.