Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There are flowers.

Desmond tilts his head and then crouches down to examine them. They're real enough, with six white petals and a yellow centre, green leaves and everything – they look kind of like lilies, he thinks, though he's never really been enough into flowers to know for sure. They're pretty, is what they are. There's just three of them, and they're pretty.

They're also growing from nothing, in nothing, for no apparent reason whatsoever.

"What's this then?" Desmond murmurs, stroking one finger under one of the lilies, turning its trumpet-like shape towards himself. More than just look real, it feels real too. He can feel it, smooth and delicate, against his fingertip, its slight weight. He thinks, if he wanted to, he could pick it up. Just snap the stem and pick up the flower – in this place he could pick up a flower.

It makes no damn sense.

Looking up, Desmond looks left, right, centre, searching for some explanation for the impossible flowers. There's a trail of them, just one here, another there, a spotty trail of barely visible white blossoms leading away, their vividness fading out until even the green is hard to see against the backdrop of bright grey nothingness. The flowers blend in pretty well – it's a miracle he spotted them at all.

But he did, and it's a trail, so…

Desmond stands up with a stretch, glancing around in case there's more to see – an ancestor or two, appearing from the nothingness. They blend into the Grey pretty well too, so it's always a bit of a surprise when they pop up. Nothing this time, though, just the flowers. "Alright then," Desmond says and turns to the flowers. "Take me to your leader."

He sets out to follow the trail – and damn if that isn't novel. He's walked endless distances here for endless amounts of time, but there was never any real sense of distance being crossed in it. Everything is relative to something, but in this place? There's no frame of reference for anything, especially not distance or time, so… it's something else, to move about, and see the actual progress being made by how many flowers he's passing by. Three, two, one, two again, four in a little cluster, three again… he's actually making way here.

Definitely new, though that too is relative to things that he can't actually grasp. Newness is a matter of time and experience – and neither happen here. Nothing changes here, and no time passes. Except for… now, apparently.

Four flowers become six, and then nine, and then too many to count, until Desmond is following a visible trail of them. The path meanders a little, but it's definitely going into the same direction – into… thataway, really. There's no left, right, up, down, or anything here. It's just going, so Desmond follows it. All the way until the trail turns into a field, into a meadow, and suddenly there are more flowers than he knows what to do with.

"Okay," he says, scratching his scarred lip and considering. Maybe – maybe it's something on the outside, reaching in? The Precursors used this place for their tech, Desmond is pretty sure, so maybe… maybe people back home had figured something out and it's leaking in? Because that's what this feels like – a leak from… some-space-else. It kind of looks like it's spreading too, which would be concerning, if Desmond actually cared about the sanctity of the Grey. The flowers are making it seem more white than grey, too, which makes everything brighter and maybe a little bit nicer.

Explanation would be nice too, though. Because the Grey hasn't changed in… it hasn't changed. Not before this. And anything that can actually change the Grey…

Yeah. "Hello?" Desmond calls, looking around. "Anybody in here? You're leaking niceness into my gloomy existential prison, I would like to personally say thank you. Helloo-oo?"

No answer, though there's a flicker of a ghost nearby, fracturing in and out of existence for a moment before condensing into a darker grey shape of an older man with dark grey and blue clothes, and – ah, Ezio, of course, old and grey. He's just standing there for a moment, considering the flowers, and then he's crouching down, hidden blade snapping out so that he can cut a handful into a bouquet. "Bene," he murmurs, his voice echoing. "This should do."

Desmond watches him, resting a hand on his hip and considering trying to tell him that – that… well, that it doesn't matter. Sofia isn't here, Ezio doesn't need to take flowers to her, nothing of this matters, really, because he's just a replayed memory, reacting to the weird new stimulus.

But Ezio looks so satisfied with the flowers that he actually smiles, and Desmond doesn't have the heart to say anything – he just watches the snippet of a memory play out, as the old mentor binds the bouquet up gently and then turns to take it away, walking through the flowers and into the embrace of the Grey, which sweeps the memory away.

Shaking his head, Desmond takes another look around and then crouches down among the flowers, waving his hand over them and watching the flowers wave and give way. They're pretty, and if this is the only change that's gonna happen, well. He'll take it. Anything is better than nothing. They smell nice too, which is more than welcome.

A way out would be better, sure, but… he'll take it.

Desmond is cutting himself a bouquet too, when he hears it – just a whisper at first, distant and faded. Then it grows a little louder, as though the source is getting closer, until finally… "Hello?" quiet voice calls, wavering as though speaking through water. "Helloo?"

Desmond stands up with his bunch of flowers, feeling weirdly guilty for picking so many – his bouquet is much bigger than the handful Ezio had picked. "Hi?" he calls, searching the area. The flowers stretch into infinity, giving the Grey something it's never had before – a horizon, and a clearly defined line between up and down. "I'm over here – hello, can you hear me?"

He hears the person long before he sees them, hears the swishing and waving of the flowers, how they rustle like in a wind. Desmond just about pinpoints the direction and sets out to meet them, holding the flowers guiltily against his chest, until he sees just barely something – like a heat mirage, far away, coming closer. It's a darker, more colourful shape, brown and pink and red, and – it's a person.

"Hello!" she calls, waving a hand excitedly, until he can see her – and the thin veil between them.

There is a wall in the Grey, like an infinite pane of glass – it separates her from him. Her side is more white than his, and there's hell of a lot more flowers there, but – they're obviously getting through somehow, since they're leaking out. "Huh," Desmond says and looks down at her. She's young, petite, pretty – and Desmond is pretty sure she's a human. Human-esque, anyway. "Hi," he says, amazed.

"Hi," she answers, her eyes shining green as she steps up to the pane of glass, pressing her hand against it. "Oh, you're very far away, aren't you?"

"Am I?" Desmond asks, surprised. Does distance matter. "Um. Okay, I guess – where are you?"

"Right here – see?" she says, tapping the glass and then pointing backwards and he can – see what she's pointing at. Sort of.  She's… very far away. Like, impossibly far away – the thing between them isn't so much space-time, as it is… reality. She's in a different reality.

"Oh, yeah, that's pretty far away," Desmond agrees faintly.

"I knew they could communicate," the girl says, turning back to him and smiling brightly. "That's where summon Materia comes from, the interaction between our plane and others. I was trying to reach for them, see if they could help us, but – I reached for you instead, by accident. You're on another Planet, aren't you?"

"I – think so?" he answers and shakes his head. "Yeah, I think I am. My name is Desmond, um. Hi?"

"Hi!" she says and does a little curtsy-bow thing, adorable and cheerful. "I'm Aerith. It's wonderful to meet another Ancient!"

Desmond can sort of see what she means – words aren't just words here, the significance behind them has this echo. It's the same-not-same as Precursor. First Civilisation, Those That Came Before, the Ones Who Were Before Us, and also Me and You and We're Not Exactly The Same but We're Same Enough and You're Here Just Like Me So You Must Be Like Me and – Desmond's head is spinning a bit. "You – you too, I think," he says, blinking rapidly.

Aerith smiles and then looks down at the flowers in Desmond's arms. "Do you like them?" she asks.

"I love them," Desmond says honestly, looking down. "They're new."

"I didn't mean to infect your side with them, but – I'm not sad I did," Aerith says and then shields her eyes from the glare, peering over to Desmond's side, to Earth's side. "Boy, it looks gloomy over there! What happened?"

"I – don't know, really. It's always been like this," Desmond admits. "For me, anyway."

"That's a little sad," Aerith says and then looks up at him. "But your Planet is alive and strong, right? Really strong."

Desmond shrugs. He isn't sure what that means – except the words carry with them the weight of Unlike my Planet. Curious, he peers over to her side, squinting against the shine of her space and… yeah. It's brighter, livelier somehow – natural, maybe? But it's small. Really, really… small. Not restrained but… drained. "What happened?" he asks.

Aerith sighs, glancing backwards. "On my planet, people learned to tap into it," she says sadly. "They drained her for the Lifestream, turning it into fuel, into electricity, and then… spending it, transforming it into colder and harder forms of energy, the sort that don't return to the Planet. They just… expended it. It's –" she trails away and then smiles. "It's nearly drained her dry now. She was already so weak when they started."

Desmond blinks. "You can – do that?" he asks. Just tap into the Grey and suck it out? "Damn."

"Yeah," Aerith sighs, hugging herself. "I've been trying to figure out how to – to replenish her. Or make her grow more," she admits. "All life begins from nothing, and then it grows and spreads and pools up – I hoped I could figure out how, but… it's a vicious circle. Life depends on Lifestream and Lifestream depends on Life, and one of those things was… wounded."

Desmond makes a sympathetic sound, though he doesn't really understand. "I'm so sorry."

"It didn't happen in your world. Something else did," Aerith says, looking back to the Grey. "It looks so secure, over there. But… cold and hard. Why?"

Desmond shrugs, and looks back. "I – I don't know how to explain it," he admits. "It's like a… a theory, or –" he stops and tries to figure out how to put it into words. How to explain the concept of a statistic that got so damn detailed and complicated that it bends the universe into its will. The Isu figured it out, they observed everything down to its most minute detail – and that very act of observation changed the thing they were observing. Which in this case was… everything. "It was Understood," he says, finally, and tries to pack the concept onto it.

"Oh," Aerith says, making a face like she sees it, but doesn't quite get it. "Wow."

"Yeah," Desmond agrees. "Makes my head spin too, and I've been here for…" he considers the pinprick infinity that's passed and shudders. "Let's not go there." It might've been like two seconds, or it might've been the entire lifespan of human species. Who knows. Earth is still there, though, so… it's probably not been billions of years yet.

"So," he says and turns to her. "You're trying to figure out how to fix it? Your world, its… energy problem?"

Aerith sighs and hugs herself, thunking her forehead against the film between realities that's separating them. "I thought I got it, for a bit," she murmurs. "Send someone back or save someone who died, and… and change the history, I thought… I thought that might do it. Change what happened when it all went from bad to worse, and the Planet doesn't die. I thought that might do it, but it went wrong."

Desmond looks into her words, and he can almost understand it – the efforts she'd gone through, and the countermeasures in place to stop just that sort of thing. Looks like her more naturalistic Cetra figured what the Isu failed to understand – time travel. And they had protections in place. "I'm sorry."

Aerith is quiet for a moment, her shoulders drawn up. Then she shakes her head. "Don't be," she says and looks up. "It's not your fault."

It's still a little hard to not feel guilty – here Desmond's standing with all the potential and power and life of Earth at his back, while her planet – Gaia? – is literally bleeding to death. "Anything I can do?" Desmond asks. "I mean. I got all this stuff, apparently." Not that he's ever been able to make use of it, but she can. "Maybe between ourselves we could figure out something."

Aerith blinks and then looks to the Grey – to the Earth and her… whatever it is, that's apparently flowing inside her. Except the Grey doesn't flow, not exactly, not like her Gaia, her Lifestream. It's like comparing an artificially dug out canal to a natural river – the Grey just is, while the Lifestream flows in rapids.

"It looks painful, almost," Aerith says. "What you've done to her, forcing her into order like that. But – but if you wanted to, if someone tried to pump out your Lifestream, you could just cut the flow, couldn't you? Just divert it elsewhere as their pumps run dry. No one could take it from you, if you didn't choose to give it away."

Desmond looks back, trying to make sense of it. The Grey was… harnessed, he sees that now – Aerith has given context to his reality, and he can almost make sense of it. The Isu tamed it, channelled it, put down a grid, made order out of the natural chaos – their Calculations… and so they controlled it. There's just no one left to control it, now. Except for Desmond, who, as per usual, has no idea what he's doing and thus is doing mostly nothing.

But… yeah, if someone tried to set up a Grey-drilling rig or something, he could probably just shut that shit down from here, couldn't he? The same way the Isu had harnessed the power of Grey for the Grand Temple, and turned it to save the planet from the Solar Flare, he could probably… divert the flow from here.

He almost would've preferred not to know that.

"It's too late," Aerith says. "Our planet is too old for anyone to do this to her, too set on her ways. But maybe…" she looks at him. "You're – an Ancient. A different kind of Ancient, a – mechanical one."

"Artificial," Desmond agrees. Genetically engineered over dozens and dozens of generations, gathering scattered genes here and there to funnel them down into one person, him – to recreate what was lost tens of thousands of years ago – "But… I think so, maybe? Something like that."

"Maybe you could help, after all," Aerirh says, pressing both her palms against the screen between them. "It's – different for you. This – all of this. You're…" she hesitates, looking at him. "You're not a healer, you're… something else. What are you?"

Desmond grimaces and then shrugs. "An Assassin," he says – but it doesn't come out as an Assassin, not as he knows it. Instead it's…

They Protect the Mankind's Free Will, They Restrain Power and Corruption, They Free People and Protect People and Empower People - Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted, Blend with the Crowd, Stay Your Blade From the Blood of the Innocent, Never Compromise Your Creed -

And what Aerith hears is Guardian of Humanity, and her eyes widen excitedly. "You're a protector!" she says.

"That's not quite –" Desmond winces. "It's complicated."

"It always is," Aerith says, leaning into the barrier. "Will you help me? Will you help my planet – if you could, would you?"

It's a loaded question, because it carries with it not only the implication of enormous fucking responsibility – but also what he sees him as. To her, he's a sort of a summon – a thing from her world, a creature, entity, sometimes a god, something you draw from another level of reality to help you in your battle. And damn, that's handy, Desmond could've used a little of that back when he was alive.

Which brings an unfortunate fact of, "I'm kind of dead," Desmond says apologetically. "Sorry."

"On your Planet, yes," Aerith agrees. "On mine, you never lived."

"Um. That's – " Desmond pauses. Why does that make sense? He isn't sure, but somehow it does. He was never alive in her world, so he never died, so… he isn't dead there. "That's nonsense logic," he says, baffled.

"Magic is like that," Aerith says brightly and leans back, pushing against the barrier with straight arms as she peers up at it. "How do we break this – do you know?"

"Hold on a minute," Desmond says. "Your world is dying – me coming over might not actually… change anything. Outside this place, I'm just one guy – what do you expect me to do alone?"

"Well, I'm going too, of course," Aerith says and sighs. "And there's another, a – an enemy, he already slipped back, and… I have to go, and if you went too, you could help me. I could – having another Ancient to help, that would…"

Aerith almost saved the planet. She'd almost done it… but it hadn't been enough, her power and her will hadn't cut it. With another Ancient to help her, and one like him – one of order and structure and design, maybe – maybe together they could put order into the withering chaos, and replant the world, not as a wild, dying meadow, but as a garden, managed maybe, ordered definitely, but flourishing. With him, she might be able to do it.

"Industrial farming of a life cycle of a planet?" Desmond mumbles, trying to make sense of it. It doesn't make sense to him at all. "What?"

"Maybe. And, if nothing else," Aerith hesitates and looks down. "You could always kill those responsible. They've killed thousands and thousands," she says and meets his eyes. "And that's what you are, right? You kill killers."

Okay, maybe she did get the idea. "Well," Desmond says, hesitating. "Maybe, but – it can't be that easy. I mean – we just met. I don't know anything about you, or your world, and you don't know anything about me – why would you… risk it?"

Aerith shrugs. "You can't lie here," she says and smiles. "I can see what you are. Can't you see me?"

Desmond blinks and – yeah. Yeah, he can. "Oh," he says. "Right."

She laughs, embarrassed, and shrugs again. "Well?" she asks. "I mean – I would get it, if you didn't. It's not your world, but… It's a world. And I think it could be nice, with a little hard work. You have this…" she hesitates and waves a hand. "Potential."

It's not potential Desmond hears. It's Masyaf and Tiber Island and Davenport Homestead and Brotherhood and rebuilding and recruiting, it's Altaïr teaching his Brotherhood, it's Ezio recruiting all over Rome, it's Connor welcoming people to their new home, it's – it's so many other things, but mostly it's the Mentorship and all the work implied in the concept.

Desmond swallows.

"Well?" Aerith asks. "I think your Brotherhood would do well, on my poor Planet. I think it would fit right in. I think you could do a lot of good."

"Okay," Desmond says faintly, his eyes a little wide and his heart pounding. "I'm sold. How do we break the barrier?"

Aerith smiles, clapping her hands excitedly. "I knew it!" she says. "This is going to be great!"

She believes it too, damn. Okay. Fuck.

Desmond is going to go through hell for this girl, and he's not even mad. 

Chapter Text

When Aerith said that "I'll pull you through at a certain moment, when a lot of the Planet's power is being released – that's when I will go through too!" she failed to mention that the power being released meant in reality… a big fucking explosion.

Desmond is thrown through it, into it and out of it, screaming and flailing  – there's a moment where he's not sure which way the gravity goes and whether that direction and down have anything to do with each other. He's flying, he thinks, flipping end over end while being thrown up, he's – riding, like on an updraft, with an outpour of green, vivid brilliance at his back, and he thinks, for a moment, that the world under him is going up in his flames. But that's just too much, right?

Yeah, no. It absolutely is going up in flames. There are explosions going down there, just destructive booms that come with the sound of massive things breaking and even more massive things crumbling and falling.

Desmond has a moment of sort of detached tranquillity, when the rush of pure power at his back lets up and the outpour cuts off and he feels like he's floating. There's sputtering of green in the air, a shimmer of what seems like actual magic, and he can see a little clearer – there's a city below him, a big metropolis, kinda circular in shape, with a massive misshapen skyscraper at the centre, buildings lit against the darkness, and then lights start going out and – oh shit.

He's actually in the air. He's hundreds and hundreds of feet in the air.

"Son of a – " Desmond cries – and then he's falling, right back down and towards the burning misshapen explosion of a structure underneath him. Gritting his teeth against the air current trying to tear the skin off his face, Desmond flips in the air and looks around wildly for something, anything, to break his fall. He's so high up that no amount of hay would be enough to cushion his fall, but maybe, maybe…

Eagle Sense doesn't dim the blinding explosion much – if anything, it makes the heart of it that much brighter. There's a vivid green pool at the centre of the exploded structure underneath him, and it's leaking light everywhere. And Desmond can tell, pretty much instantly, that if he falls into the green glow, that will be an instant and probably very painful death for him.

There's nothing but sea of un-safeness underneath him, just metal and concrete and stone, nothing soft he could aim for, nothing that might break underneath him without breaking him in the process. "Shit, shit, shit!" Desmond shouts, as he comes to a terminal velocity, the ground coming up fast, and even if there's something safe out there, there's no chance of him going for it, no -

He panics a little. Or maybe a lot. This is definitely not how he thought he'd come through, and Aerith had seemed like such a nice girl too, a nice decent person – and here she goes and throws him into an explosion, and now he's going to go splat down on the streets somewhere and that's that – that's just rude –

Fuck, there's gotta be something he can do, something, anything – he has all that power in the Grey, apparently, and Aerith was like – some sort of demigoddess reality bender – there's gotta be something–!

Then something comes around his waist, a band – no, an arm, winding around him. All breath is knocked out of Desmond as his rapid descent suddenly stalls. His head spinning and his everything hurting, Desmond strains to look up just in time to see something blessedly familiar and completely nonsensical.

It's Ezio, the older Ezio, with one hand gripping onto the ropes of a conical parachute, and the other wound up around Desmond, breaking his fall. They're still coming down pretty hard, the parachute is definitely not designed for two people, but it's slowing down Desmond's descent a lot, the ground isn't coming up murderously fast anymore, and also, what?

"What?" Desmond asks, bewildered. He can feel Ezio, somehow, under his skin, in his chest, like they're connected. It's – what? "What the – "

Then they hit the ground – or Desmond does, anyway, his feet colliding with hard stone with an impact that rattles him all throughout. He goes to roll with the blow automatically, taking the fall the way Assassins do, almost banging his head on the ground as he does, and in that moment Ezio disappears, breaking into flickers of green light and fading like – like a magical fucking mirage. Desmond is left staring at the spot where he'd been, where the parachute had been – both of them gone now.

"What the actual fuck?" Desmond demands, but there's no one around to answer. Or rather – there is, but the people on the streets have more pressing things to worry about.

Reality asserts itself in a rush of heat and smoke and the acrid smell of things, burning. There are buildings on fire all around him, some that have collapsed – judging by the sound of distant rumblings, there are buildings still collapsing. The explosion of the green glowing thing had obviously rained destruction all around it – there are chunks of hot metal and ruined concrete embedded in the buildings all around. There are people crying, shouting, the sound of wailing sirens in the distance, and nearby someone is screaming, "Please, my son – can't anyone help, my son is trapped in there – please!"

Desmond is still shaking from the fall, lightheaded and confused, but he pushes up to his feet anyway. The ground under him feels like it's shuddering, trembling, but that's probably just his knees talking. It's a lot of new and exciting sensations, which he will have to go over later, but first things first…

Eagle Sense marks out his targets, dimming out the fires, revealing the paths of safety, and making the people glow in hues of white if they're safe, red if they're dangerous – and gold, if they need help. Wiping his hand over his face, Desmond steels himself, shakes his head until it feels a little steadier, and then sets out in a stumble, aiming for the nearest one, the quickest to get to.

A couple of people, trapped behind a burning door, trying desperately to open it and failing – but there's a piece of rubble on the outside, pinning the door shut. It's a shop of some kind, though, with massive windows – so Desmond picks up a fallen brick from the ground and uses it to smash the biggest window, already partially shattered. "Over here!" he calls, hopping up to the window display. "Come over here, you can get out through here!"

The people inside scramble towards him, coughing and sobbing, and Desmond bodily hauls them out and onto the open street.

Then he turns to the next target. A boy in a second floor window, banging desperately on the glass – it's miraculously unbroken, and the kid is too young and too weak to break it, and probably too panicked to try doing anything else. The first floor underneath him looks almost completely collapsed, and there's fire.

Desmond glances over the building façade until he sees a safe path up, and then takes it at a run, launching himself as high as he can, kicking off the wall until he reaches a windowsill on the second floor, and can haul his weight over to the kid's window. There's heat rising from underneath, and inside he can see smoke, already filling up the room. The window doesn't budge – it's locked.

"Get back, and get down," Desmond says to the terrified boy through the glass, while quickly pulling up his own hood. "Cover your head with your arms and don't look up – I'm going to break the window."

The kid takes a moment to comply – Desmond has to repeat himself twice over, more urgent each time, until the kid finally gets back. Then, without further ado, Desmond winds his arm back, turns his face away as much as he can and finally cracks his elbow through the glass. It takes another two good blows to break it properly and make a big enough hole for the kid to get through – all the while inside the fires flare up with new oxygen rushing in.

No time to waste, "Get here, kid, take my hand," Desmond calls, and this time the boy complies immediately, scurrying over. Desmond hauls him up and out, and then, with the flames rising behind them, he kicks off the building, winding his arms around the kid as he falls – and just barely makes it down feet first.

The mother screams and sobs and babbles her thanks – Desmond gives her a shaky nod and then turns to the next one. Someone on the roof – they probably made their way up to get away from the flames, and now they're trapped. Great.

This is gonna take some doing, Desmond muses, and then goes about looking for a way up. There isn't one – the fire escape had collapsed, and the lower floor is either too collapsed, too much on fire, or too smooth for him to make his way up. Shit – he needs a ladder or a plank or…

Scanning the area he sees what looks like a fallen advertisement sign – it's three times his height and looks almost light enough to lift. It would have to do, Desmond decides and then hurries over to it – only to find it's not light enough to lift, at all.

"Shit," Desmond mutters and then looks around for someone to help him. Most of the people around him are on the ground, too wounded or too shocked to even notice him, but there's one guy. He's short, but with arms like that – and is that a sword on his back? Jesus, whatever. "You, there, come help me with this!"

The man pauses, glancing at him. "What?" he asks.

"Come help me lift this," Desmond says, motioning to the sign.

The blond guy looks at him, at the sign, and then around the street. "Why?" he asks incredulously.

"So that I can get it up against that wall over there," Desmond points haphazardly. "So that I can run up it to that window on the third floor, so that I can climb up to that roof and save the guy up there – just come over here and help me!"

It takes a moment, but with an awkward glance around and a shake of his head, the guy eventually jogs over to him – and then lifts the heavy metal sign without so much as a pause, just hefts it up like it doesn't weigh anything. "Where?" he asks while Desmond gapes at him.

Jesus, okay. This world has super strong short people. Desmond can roll with it. "There," he points. "Against the wall, at an angle –"

The guy sets the sign up as he directs, and Desmond decides to marvel later and do things now – as the blond guy watches with a mildly baffled expression, Desmond takes a running start and then makes his way up, the sign clattering under his feet, but holding firm as he launches himself up and just barely makes it to the third floor window frame, and begins climbing up and to the roof.

"Hey – oh there's more than one of you," Desmond says with a grimace, seeing the people on the roof – there's the one guy he saw and a whole damn family, all of them panicking and trapped, with the roof already crumbling under them. "Shoot. Okay, let's see about getting you guys down safely…"

Thankfully, unlike the kid, these guys are a whole lot more cooperative, and Desmond manages to navigate them through the rooftops. It takes some rooftop parkour, and he has to break a door to turn it into a plank to let the people cross over from one rooftop to another, but with minimal close calls, he manages to get them all to a building with a still functional escape ladder.

The blond shorty is still there when Desmond swings his way down to the ground level.

"You can't save them all," the blond guy says, frowning.

"I can save some, and that's more than none," Desmond says and scans the buildings. There, a girl hanging off a window, looks like she tried to climb down but failed, and now she's hanging off the window sills. "Shit," Desmond mutters and sets out in a run.

At least this one is easier to climb to – the building is mostly intact, just the rooftop is on fire, so he can just parkour his way up to her. "Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm here to help," he says as the girl – teenager, soot-covered and crying – screams at him in surprise. "Do you think you could get a hold of my shoulders, climb to my back? I'll get you down, don't worry…"

The girl sobs all the way down to the ground level, strangling him and probably leaving tear and soot marks over Desmond's hoodie, but he's not about to hold that against her. They almost fall, too, as the window ledge threatens to give way under their combined weight, and the way down is definitely not as easy as the way up had been. Desmond almost loses his grip and lands both their weights on the girl, but their fall is broken by firm hands grabbing them before they stumble, keeping them upright.

The blond shorty, who's scowling at him.

"Thanks," Desmond says and wrings the girl's arms off him. "Go there, out to the open part – stay away from the buildings, okay? You'll be alright," he says, ushering her to safety.

"So, you're going to help me?" Desmond asks the blond guy. "Desmond, by the way."

"Cloud," the blond says, scowling harder and glancing around. "There's – I –" he hesitates and grimaces. "It doesn't do anything. Look at this place -"

"Hey, we've saved half a dozen people already," Desmond says, motioning around them. "That's already something – come on, there are people trapped over there."

The blond doesn't follow him immediately, making a bitch face after him – but he does follow eventually, as Desmond starts working on how to get into a building with a collapsed façade.

Between the two of them they save a lot more than just half a dozen people, before the authorities finally arrive and fire engines begin finding their way out to the streets. There are also soldiers, with weird three-eyed helmets and impressive shoulder guards, who move to secure the area – and who, immediately, make the blond guy uneasy.

"I guess the cavalry's here," Desmond says, wiping sweat and soot off his face. "Looks like we're saved. Hooray."

Cloud grimaces – he's already backing away with a leery look on his face. "I gotta go," he says. "You're on your own now."

Desmond looks between him and the authorities and then waves a hand – he knows a fugitive when he sees one. "Thanks for the assist, Cloud," he says. "Appreciated."

Cloud hesitates and then gives him an awkward nod – before turning around and just legging it. Desmond tilts his head, eyeing the massive sword on the guy's back, before shaking his head and standing up. "What a world," he murmurs and stretches, before turning to the firemen. "Hey, you guys need help over there?"

They don't trust him with the big hoses or with breaking into buildings to save people, more's the pity, but there's a couple of guys who take his word for, "There are people over there," and "That building is empty – trust me, I checked," which is something. Desmond also aces the handing out water and shock blankets, which frees a few of the firefighters to do their actual work.

"I saw you," one of the shaky victims says, when Desmond goes about the routine of checking them for mortal injuries and handing out water. "You – climbed that building, to save those people."

"Just doing my part as a Good Samaritan," Desmond shrugs. "You feeling okay – does your throat hurt, are you feeling dizzy?"

The woman shakes your head. "My friend lived in that building," she whispers. "I hope she wasn't home."

Desmond was noticed by more than a few people, it turned out. It's probably not a good thing for future references, in case he's ever going to go about doing assassinations and whatnot – but hell. Aerith was the one that dropped him into a disaster zone. And what was he, an Assassin Guardian Summon person, supposed to do, not help people? Talk about trial of fire.

"You'll be alright, just breathe, in and out, nice and slow," Desmond talks one boy through a panic attack and gets a cold compress for another and generally makes himself useful, all the while keeping an eye out for more targets in the flames. The firemen are doing… not the best job against the fires, there are too many buildings burning, and the majority of the firefighters are concentrated around the, uh, the Reactor? Desmond thinks that's what they called it. It's the place on most fire currently, so it makes sense they are trying to put it out. But at least the destruction doesn't reach that far, just two, three blocks out from the reactor, and so it's somewhat manageable, probably, and the firemen are definitely trying to put an end to it.

It's still all kinds of horrifying, though.

It's several long hours before the fires finally start looking like they're under control and the sky above begins brightening up, dawn rising like some kind of sign of the worst of it being over. Desmond is starting to feel some very human things by that point, things he's not felt since he died – stuff like hunger, tiredness, utter exhaustion. It's almost novel.

"God, I need a drink," he mutters, finally daring to take a seat between some huddled victims of the fire, who are exhaustedly catching Zs in a safe spot on the street.

"I'll drink to that," a voice says beside him, above him, and Desmond looks up. It's a guy, definitely not one Desmond saved or who got anywhere near the fires – his casually worn suit is spotless, as is his vividly red hair. "Hey there," the guy says. "Hear you've been getting around here, helping people."

"Did what any upstanding citizen would do," Desmond says, giving him a closer look. Red. Shit. "Just glad I could help."

"Good to hear," the redhead says, looking around. "Also hear you had another guy helping you – about yee-tall, blond, carries a bigass sword on his back?" he holds a hand at about Cloud's height.

Desmond considers his options, blinking slowly and glancing around. The red head isn't alone – there's another guy, bald, also in a suit, who glows red, who's scanning the area warily. Unlike the redhead, who's showing enough bozom to seem a little indecent, this guy is impeccable in that spook sort of way. Double shit.

"Um, yeah – he had to run, though," Desmond says and shrugs.

"Aw, pity," the redhead says. "The good work you two did here, you might be in for a reward. It's not just anyone who can pick up the slack and go around being a hero like that."

...Right. "That's awesome," Desmond says and then shakes his head. "Should've tried to catch the guy's name, sorry, I didn't think – I just sort of grabbed him off the street when I needed a hand. There was this sign I couldn't lift by myself, but he seemed pretty strong and didn't look injured or anything, so I thought – "

"Right, right," the redhead says, impatient. "You see which way he went – maybe we can catch up with him, get his info for the reward thing?"

"Oh, right – he went that way," Desmond says, pointing not quite the way Cloud had gone. "I think he had to catch up with someone, or something, seemed to be in a hurry."

"Right – thanks, man," the redhead says, pats his shoulder and then heads off without so much as by-your-leave – or taking down Desmond's ID or information, either. Desmond looks after him as the redhead waves to the bald guy to catch up, and together they head the wrong way.

Right, okay. So, this world has big metropolises, weird-ass explody reactors sitting smack in the middle of said metropolises, super strong short guys, and… spooks in suits chasing after said super strong short guys. Cool, cool.

Standing up with a stretch, Desmond scans the area, and when his Eagle Vision doesn't find him anything more to do around here, he shrugs his shoulders and heads off. He has a lady in red to find and some questions to ask, and he might as well take a look around while he's at it.

And maybe somewhere along the way he could climb a tall building or two for a better view. That's how it always starts, after all – with the proper perspective.

Chapter Text

Cloud takes cover behind a corner and waits for a moment until he's sure the infantry men didn't see him. They're crawling all over Sectors 1 and 8 now, covering the area around the explosion, and from what he's seen so far, they're not particularly indiscriminate about who they're blaming. If what he remembers about how these things function is at all accurate… any and all scapegoats to shift blame to would be used up until they found a proper target. And if they so happened to arrest someone they could easily pin the tag of Avalanche on…

Cloud has no intention of becoming Barrett's fall guy though. Not that he thinks that the guy would intentionally do that – Barrett is too… genuine for that kind of shit. But it might've crossed the others' minds, and if Cloud just so happened to get captured and thus shift suspicion away from the others, he doubts they'd go through any true trouble to save him.

Better he relies on himself.

"Tch," he mutters and turns away. Shouldn't have wasted his time with that guy, but – there's something to be said about hanging around your scene of crime, helping. Not something guilty people do, he's pretty sure of that – they don't stick around to mitigate the damage they caused. Not that he really had helped all that much – sure, they saved some people, but compared to all those who must've already died, and all who would die because of this… it's nothing.

Not that it was really his crime, nor does he have anything to feel guilty about. He'd just been hired to do a job, and he'd done it. Wasn't his idea.

Heading further away from the fires, Cloud releases a hiss through his teeth and tries to convince himself he isn't seeing the faces of the people he'd helped behind his eyelids every time he closes his eyes. It doesn't matter – it doesn't. He doesn't care, and it doesn't change anything. Damnit.

Just get to the station, get on the last train, get under the plate, get paid, get gone. That's the plan, and that's what Cloud's sticking to. And he's definitely not going to say anything about sticking around playing emergency relief, either. That has nothing to do with anything, and the Avalanche doesn't need to know. No one needs to know.

No one needs to know how it reminded him – how it made it feel like… like he was….

No.

Pushing the thoughts from his mind, Cloud does what he can to navigate the messy streets – but they're mostly blocked, every which way he turns. If there aren't piles of rubble there, then there's an actual Public Security blockade, or there are cars that have gotten into a crash, and getting around them without being noticed… yeah, no. Desmond might've been able to do it. The guy was like a monkey, all swift and quiet when he climbed, Cloud had never seen anyone move like that. Cloud's – not that, though. He'd probably just make a damn fool out of himself, trying those tricks.

Better to go around, Cloud decides and peers up. There's a fire escape, and he knows now the rooftops are pretty traversable – so that's what he goes for, climbing up the metal stairs up to the roof and making his way over and back down, trying to ignore all the shocked people cluttering the top, murmuring in horror and fear at the sight of the fires still going. At his back, the Mako Reactor keeps on burning.

Damn, what a damn mess. And here he'd thought the whole thing was mostly for nothing – no way an itty bitty bomb could do that much to a Reactor that big, he'd thought. At most it would cause some surface damage, put the reactor out of business for a few weeks, maybe a few months. This, though… the Reactor is gone. There's no way they can repair it in anything less than years.

He really underestimated the Avalanche's aptitude for explosives.

Dropping back down on the street with a grunt, Cloud checks his sword and then looks up ahead. It's a clearer street, far enough away that there's no rubble – a lot of people hanging around, sure, craning their necks to see, but no fires, no destruction. The train station should be just up ahead… but there's also security here.

ShinRa Infantry. Shit.

Trying to keep his head down, Cloud sticks to the sidewalk and tries to make his way over as quietly and as nonchalantly as possible with the Buster Sword at his back – it's a bit noticeable, after all. Thankfully, most people are more interested in the disaster, and no one is paying him much mind. Now, if he'd just get through…

He almost makes it past the crowd and to the station, when someone else decides to draw attention to themselves – there's a woman up ahead, dressed in red and pink, who suddenly starts flailing her arms – at first Cloud thinks she's having a fit or something, but it's like she's fighting – flies, maybe? Like she's trying to fight something… maybe she's got smoke inhalation, breathed in fumes or something?

Cloud takes a cautious step closer. He has to get past her to get to the station - it doesn't look like anyone's noticed her yet, maybe he can get by, so as long as she doesn't do anything… and of course that's when she looks up and right at him.

It's like someone's suddenly driving a spike through Cloud's head, ice hot pain lancing through behind his eyelids, and he can see – he can – it's, he can hear his voice – almost like he's there –

"Did it help? Helping those people – did it make it seem as though you could've saved them, too? Did it give you catharsis? Do you think you deserve such deliverance for your guilt, Cloud?"

"Hey? Hey, are you okay?"

There's a hand on his arm, and the pain lets up, and Cloud can see again. It's the woman in pink, she's standing in front of him, hand on his arm, gripping. "Are you feeling dizzy?" she asks, worried.

"I'm fine," Cloud grunts and quickly straightens his back, stepping away. Her hand on his arm felt like a brand, too warm, too cold – shit. "Smoke inhalation," he says, awkward. That's what it has to be. Right? Right.

Shaking his head, he steps around the woman in pink, to get away – but she jogs after him. "Wait, wait," she says. "You can't just leave like that – if you're feeling dizzy, you should sit down maybe? If you got smoke inhalation, you should take a break to breathe. Especially if you came from there."

"I'm fine," Cloud says again, trying to get past her, but she's standing in front of him now, wielding a basket of – of flowers? – like it's a shield. "Listen, I appreciate it, but I'm fine – "

The woman is looking at him like she knows him, her eyes warm, green, somehow... familiar. Then she's holding out a flower at him. "Here," she says. "For you. To make you feel better."

"I don't –" Cloud says and leans back as she just about sticks the thing in his face. It's bright, and it smells real. It's – not fake, it's a real flower.  

"As a gift," the woman says, holding the flower like a weapon. "I'm not taking no for an answer, and I promise it will smell better than smoke. Take it."

Cloud releases a breath. "If I do, will you leave me alone?"

She grins, bright. "Absolutely not," she says, gives him a considering look and then, quick as a fiend, snaps her arm forward, sticking the flower neatly and precisely behind Cloud's ear. "There! Oh, it looks lovely. It will make you feel better in no time at all, trust me, you'll see."

Cloud makes a face, recoiling away. What is her deal? "Listen, lady – you shouldn't be just harassing people on the streets, taking liberties like this. I could be dangerous, I could – hurt you for something like this."

She laughs, fond. "No, you couldn't," she says warmly, and then looks over his shoulder and sighs. "Aw, shoot, they're back."

Cloud glances over his shoulder, expecting soldiers – but instead, he sees ghosts. A fiend of some sort, hooded and ragged and only half visible, hovers directly behind him, looming over him. It doesn't have a face, but he could swear it's glaring at him.

"Shit!" Cloud immediately reaches for his sword, swinging through the thing – it breaks apart like so much dust, but it's not alone. There's suddenly some half a dozen of the things, whirling around them madly, not quite attacking but there, and definitely not friendly.

"Oh, come on, leave me alone already!" the Flower Peddler says, stomping her foot. "I'm trying to fix it!"

Cloud glances at her incredulously – what, she knows these things, she's talking to them? Then another ghost makes a swooping lunge at them, and he quickly steps in front of the woman, swinging his sword through the thing, dispersing it in the air. "What are they?" he asks, carefully keeping an eye on the others, waiting for another attack.

"They are a bother!" the woman says with a huff and clutches onto her flower basket. "I don't think they want me hanging around here for longer than I'm supposed to, but I'm waiting for someone, and I am not leaving, you hear?" She points a finger at the ghosts. "I am not going anywhere until he gets here, so you can just suck it!"

Cloud glances at her uncertainly – and that's finally when the soldiers notice them and the fact that there are fiends on the upper plate.

Only they, apparently… don't. "Put down the sword!" the first infantry man calls, rushing right through the ghosts like he doesn't even see them, and the others follow. "Sir, put down your weapon, now!"

"Are you blind?" Cloud asks, confused. The things are going right through them, but… the soldiers don't seem to notice them. "What the…?"

"Oh, don't bother, they can't see them," the woman sighs frustratedly. "I'm sorry about this, looks like things are about to get dicey. I don't suppose – you could help me out here, a little?"

"With the ghosts or the soldiers?" Cloud demands, casting her a look.

"Both?" she asks with a wincing smile. "I mean, the soldiers didn't mind me until you pulled out your sword, but now that they're here, I don't think I can just get out scot free now, so really, it's all your fault –"

Cloud gapes at her. "Excuse me?"

"Put down the sword!" the infantry man in the lead demands, and Cloud sighs. Damn it.

Well, it isn't like he was about to get on the train without some trouble. Shaking his head, Cloud steps up. "Just stay out of my way," he says and then, not waiting for her reply, rushes into battle.

It's not a very long battle – the infantry gear doesn't do much to protect the men from the sheer mass of the Buster Sword, as it rips right through it. They get some hits in, but not enough to really slow Cloud down, and he brings all of the soldiers down within a minute or so, and all without getting the civilian woman hurt.

"Whooey, that was something!" the woman says, as the last attacker crumbles to the ground. "Are you alright? You took a hit there."

"Nothing a potion won't fix," Cloud says, grimacing. The sound of fighting must've alerted someone, there's definitely enough civilians around for them to report it. "You said you were waiting for someone?"

"Yes, um. My. Cousin?" the girl says and frowns. "That's not quite right, but, yes. I think he will be able to find me here, but – I need to be here, for him to find me."

"This specific street, or will somewhere not out in the open do?" Cloud asks, clipping the Buster Sword back to its magnetic sheath. "Because if I was a betting man, I'd say we're about to see a lot more fighting, if the word of this," he motions at the dead soldiers, "travels as fast as it should."

The woman tilts her head. "You are a betting man, though, aren't you?"

"That's not the point – can we clear off the street or do you want to fight with ShinRa's Public Security Service some more?" Cloud demands.

The woman blinks and then smiles. "Aww, you're going to protect me? That's mighty nice of you," she says and brushes a hand over her dress, wiping away imaginary dirt. "No, I guess we don't need to wait specifically here – just nearby. I think that might do."

"Great, nearby it is," Cloud says, motioning her to a nearby alleyway all the while cursing himself. The hell is he doing, helping random people – he has a train to catch! "You wouldn't happen to know the schedule for the train line that runs through here?" he asks.

"I don't, sorry," the woman says and smiles. "Were you going somewhere?"

Cloud sighs. "Guess I am already late, might as well go the whole way and not show up at the rendezvous point at all," he mutters. He wasted so much time helping Desmond, and – fuck it, he can find his way under the plate later, catch up with the other in Seventh Heaven. "Whatever."

"I'm sorry," the Flower Peddler says, smiling apologetically. "I'm Aerith, by the way. Thank you for helping me."

"Cloud," he answers curtly and moves to lean back against a wall, facing her. "So what were those things? The fiends. You knew them, and the soldiers didn't see them."

"Well, they're – difficult to explain," Aerith says and sighs, considering it. "It's like, they're like. Um. They're like Guardian Angels, who got the job way wrong. I think."

Cloud arches his brows. "Those things were guardian angels? Really?"

"Yes, but – wrong. Dumb. Bothersome," Aerith says and then winces, looking away. "Aaand I think they're coming back again, sorry – "

Cloud grabs for his sword just in time to see the grey spectres swooping back into the alleyway, rushing towards them. "Right – what do they want?"

"To stop me from doing what I want," Aerith sighs, and then takes her basket in both hands. "But I am – not going – to stop!" she says, and then swings the basket right into the face of the nearest ghost, scattering her flowers all over the alley. "Ugh, just go away!"

Fighting in the alleyway would've been hard, even if it hadn't been for the fact that they're fighting intangible things with no mass, which don't seem to be taking any damage at all – Cloud's sword just goes through them, and then they reform again, and come at them again. With them, the ghosts – guardian angels, whatever they are – bring a sort of wind that is trying to push between Cloud and Aerith, and it really feels like it's trying to push them away from each other. It's ushering Cloud back out to the open street – and Aerith further into the alley.

It's more than enough to make Cloud really annoyed with the damn things. They're trying to control them, he can feel it, they're trying to steer them, and that's just – that's the worst thing -

"Cloud, my puppet…"

"Will you just fuck off!" Cloud snarls and slams his sword into the nearest ghost, and into the alleyway wall, sending forth a ringing burst of noise as metal meets concrete. The ghost shudder a little at it, but not enough to disperse, pushing between them again, so Cloud grits his teeth again and fights against the push and pull of the ghosts' weird wind – he is not going to be fucking steered -

There's a shadow passing over them, then something slams down to the ground in front of Cloud and Aerith, dropping right through a couple of the ghosts and breaking them apart into wisps of dust. "The hell –" the man demands, whirling to his feet, a knife in each hand. "Did that thing just blow up like a balloon?"

It's Desmond – looking even more sooty and dirty, and like he's taken a few more cinder burns to his hoodie, but it's definitely him. And around him, the ghosts are – recoiling away, just fleeing, Cloud can almost hear them screaming as they rush away.

"What the – Desmond?" Cloud asks, in the exact same moment when Aerith shouts with relief, "Desmond!" and then they look at each other. "You know him?"

"He's my, uh, cousin?" Aerith offers and blinks at him curiously. "How do you know him?"

"I – met him just a little while back," Cloud says, scowling with confusion and then looking up. Where the hell did the guy even come from – did he jump down from the rooftop?

"Hey guys," the guy himself says, looking around nervously. "I didn't imagine the dementors, right? There were dementors here, I didn't imagine that?"

"What's a dementor?" Aerith asks.

"Hooded creepy soul sucking ghost-thing?" Desmond says and turns to face her. "There were ghost thingies here, right, I didn't just – imagine it? They were here, right?"

"No, they were here – I don't think they like you much," Aerith sighs with relief and then bounces up to him. "You made it!"

Desmond quickly lifts his hands up to avoid cutting her with his blades as she hugs him tightly, "Yeah, I'm here, hi again," he says before looking over her head at Cloud. "And – hi to you too, again," he says. "Fancy meeting you like this. Nice flower. You know Aerith?"

Cloud looks between them suspiciously and then puts his sword away. "Just met her," he says. "You her cousin? Small world."

"I – am?" Desmond asks and looks down at her, as Aerith leans back to look up at his face. "Am I?"

"Eh, it seemed about right," Aerith says and looks him over. "You're – I don't – it's a little blurry, for me. But you remember, don't you? You remember."

"I think so, unless I don't, in which case I wouldn't be able to tell, I guess? What's blurry?" Desmond asks, frowning. "Are you alright?"

"It's not perfect, what I did. Things get – lost on the way," Aerith admits awkwardly and pats his chest. "And the Whispers don't help – they take away things, memories. I remember some, but… not everything. I remember you, in the white. I know who you are. What you are."

"Mm," Desmond says and quickly puts his larger knife away, the short, slender blade in his other hand vanishing into his sleeve with a flick of his wrist. "We'll go over it in as much detail as we can, then, and see where we stand. Write it down maybe, so you don't forget."

"Yeah, maybe."

Cloud looks between them, scowling. What the hell are they talking about? "Um," he says. "Well, Desmond, since you're here now, I've got a train to catch," he says, sidling around them. "Take care, you two, I guess – "

"Hang on," Aerith says, and Cloud blows out a frustrated breath. Not again. "You can't just leave – I haven't even thanked you properly."

"It's fine – just go home, be safe, don't get eaten by any – dementors, or whatever, and we'll call it even," Cloud says, trying to make his escape even as she latches onto his arm. "Oh, come on – I have places to be."

"I know, I know," the woman says and reaches for his ear. "The flower is slipping – aww, it's a little lopsided too –"

Desmond watches them curiously, while Cloud tries to wince away from Aerith's ministrations. "Hey, personal space, Aerith," the taller man says then and picks up a few flowers from the ground, where they'd scattered when Aerith had been fighting the ghosts with her flower basket. "Getting a bit grabby there."

"He doesn't really mind, do you, Cloud?" Aerith asks quickly, looking at him with alarm.

"I'm not – I just, I gotta go," Cloud says, looking away uneasily all the while trying to inch away from her. Her hand on his arm is – it's not – it's confusing.

Aerith lets out a gasp at that, and then, looking utterly heartbroken, releases him like he's burning. "Oh, I'm so sorry – I didn't realise," she says, wringing her skirt in her hands and then looking up at Desmond. She looks almost like she wants to cry, all of a sudden. What the hell is wrong with these people?

Desmond shrugs and then offers Cloud the flowers. "Something for the road," he says. "Thanks for looking out for her. And the help, earlier, I appreciated it."

Cloud grimaces, but, if it gets him out of here quicker… "You're welcome," he says and grabs the flowers. "Just get out of here, okay?"

"Yea," Desmond says, and Cloud can feel both their gazes at his back as he finally makes his way out of the damned alley.

"I didn't realise," Aerith says behind him. "He looks so sad and alone and hurt, and I just want to hug him. He always looks like he needs hugs."

"Sometimes being hugged hurts more than being hit," Desmond answers, and then Cloud decides he's done with this confusing nonsense. He has a train to catch, and damn these confusing... cousins, whatever they are. He's wasted too much time already, and he's still short on his pay for the bombing.

So, awkwardly easing the flower stems into his pocket, where they will hopefully not get in his way when he's fighting, he heads off, trying to put both of them out of his mind.

Chapter Text

"So, uh. Cloud, huh?" Desmond asks, while following Aerith further into the dark alleys of the as of yet nameless metropolis. "You friends?" It didn't really seem like it, the poor guy didn't seem all that comfortable with her, mostly he just seemed confused – but Aerith definitely knew him. "Seemed like a mysterious sort of history, what you two got."

"Oh, yeah, that," Aerith says and sighs. "It's – a little difficult to tell these things apart, now. We haven't met yet – or I guess we have now? That was our first meeting. For the third time."

Desmond arches his brow. It was easier back in the mysterious planet-space they met in, when he could tell the implication she had behind her words, but here they're just words, with no echo of meaning or emotion behind them. "Third time," he repeats. "So. Time travel?"

"Yeah," Aerith admits and glances over her shoulder back at him. "Um. You're like me, right? I don't remember everything, but I remember that – you're… an Ancient too, right? That's why you're here, I asked for your help, because you're like me, and… and I didn't do so well, the last time."

"Hm," Desmond answers and ducks his head under a low hanging wire that crosses the alley above them. "You seemed to think so. I'm not exactly like you, though. You're all natural, home grown sort of… of whatever an Ancient is, right? I'm a bit more artificial – eugenics went into making me, and I got the impression it shows."

"Right – because your world is more… mechanical," Aerith nods. "The Lifestream was channelled, mechanically."

Desmond is pretty sure it was coded, but apples and oranges. "I guess, yeah. So, similar-ish, but not exactly the same," he says. "Gotta say, though, no time travel back in my world. You've done it twice now?"

"Mm-hmm. First time it wasn't my choice, I don't think? I got dragged along," Aerith says and blows out a breath. "It's a little – messy in my head. This time I did it intentionally, I'm sure of that, but… doing it has messed up my head some more. Sorry about that."

"No biggy, know something about messed up heads myself," Desmond says easily. "So as long as you know what you're doing, I'm sure we can figure the rest of it out."

Aerith gives him a bright smile and then does a little skip, turning around to face him. "You're really going to help me," she says and lifts the mostly empty flower basket higher on her arm. "Thank you so much, Desmond!"

Desmond considers her and then blows out a breath. "Don't thank me yet, I don't even know if there's anything I can do for you. Hell, I don't even know what you're doing, or what you want me to do about it," he says, shaking his head. "And also – I got a bone to pick with you. Because, how about that explosion, hm?"

Aerith blinks. "Explosion? Oh, yeah – the reactor. That explosion."

"Mmh," Desmond agrees, giving her a pointed look. "That explosion."

"Yes, that, uh," Aerith hesitates, tapping her lips thoughtfully and looking a little uncertain. "It was the point of transference the last time too – biggest release of Mako and Lifestream between this time and… and way too long ago to even matter to us. It's the earliest point you can go back to, and still make a difference," she says slowly and then looks at him. "Were you close to it?"

Desmond takes in her expression and then sighs. Wasn't intentional, then. "Yeah, I was a bit close to it," he says. "Never mind. It wasn't your doing, though, the explosion? Looked like it killed a lot of people."

"I guess so – but no, I had nothing to do with it. Cloud did, though," Aerith says and smiles awkwardly.

"The – the Cloud we just were talking with? That Cloud?"

"The only Cloud there is," Aerith agrees. "He's part of an eco-terrorist organisation trying to save the Planet. They blew up the reactor – or, maybe…" she trails away. "There was something else that happened too, I can't quite remember. But, um. I think they were there. And they planted a bomb, and… boom. That's how it all started. Starts."

Desmond opens his mouth, closes it, and then runs a hand over his face. "Right, okay," he says. And he roped the guy into helping people caught up in the fires. Nice. "Okay. He didn't look like a terrorist."

"Looks can be deceiving," Aerith shrugs and tilts her head. "You met him before me? Talk about fate."

"Yeah, I sort of… pressed him into working with me for a bit," Desmond says. "There were people in the burning buildings, and – it doesn't really matter, I guess," he sighs. They were innocents, though – he's pretty sure they were innocents. And yet… so was Cloud – Desmond's Eagle Sense was never twigged by Cloud, he'd always felt at ease with the guy. And yet, apparently… a lot of people died because of the guy's actions… what the hell.

"So, uh…" Desmond looks Aerith over. "What's the plan now, then?"

"Hmm," Aerith hums, considering him, pressing a finger against her cheek in thought. "I will meet Cloud again when he comes crashing through the church roof, but that's later. We've got a couple of days, and… I guess we go below the Plate and – and figure it out?"

That doesn't sound very… confidence-inspiring, Desmond muses. "Okay. What's the ultimate goal, then? Why are we here, Aerith?"

"Why is anyone here?" she asks, smiling.

"No – why are we here, you and I, like this, planet-hopping and reality-crossing shenanigans included – what's the goal here?"

Her eyes stray to the side as she thinks, searching her memory for the answer. "The planet is going to die," she says then and nods. "And we need to save it. Your planet is different – if Gaia were like it, this would've never happened here. So with your help, I'm… I'm hoping we can still save it. Change it."

"No pressure or anything," Desmond says faintly.

"Yeah," Aerith whispers in agreement and shrugs. "I've failed twice already, too. So I… obviously can't do this alone."

Jesus, poor girl. Head all screwed around and that kind of burden on her shoulders, no wonder she was desperate and a little out of it. "Okay," Desmond says. "We'll figure it out. So, uh. Below the Plate next? What does that mean?"

"Oh, Midgar is in two parts – we're on the top part, on the Plate," Aerith explains. "And below it are the slums – that's where I lived. Or live, I guess. Come on," she says and takes his hand. "I'm going to introduce you to my mom. She's probably not going to like you at first, she never likes the guys I bring in, but – I bet she will warm up to you real fast."

Slums? Desmond shakes his head. "Alright then. Lead the way."

How the hell does Midgar even work? And how could anyone build something like this? Desmond's been in the heads of enough builder types of people to know that this kind of metalwork – it would be expensive as hel. Even on Modern Earth, with all of its industrial capabilities, this amount of metal… god. There's gotta be millions of tons of it, in Midgar, if not billions. And it's sitting there suspended, hovering, 300 meters above the ground, according to all the infographics he spots on their way down. Some kilometre across, with all those buildings and streets and everything else on top…

The industry of this world gotta be scary as hell. What are their metal works and furnaces like? Desmond had once worked a part time job loading in an aluminium plant, and he thought some of the stuff they made in that place was big – but no, apparently not. Just at a glance at the supports of the underplate, Desmond can tell – the metal factories back on Earth have nothing on what these people got going on.

"And they power it all by… pumping out the Lifestream?" he asks Aerith, as they sit on the rooftop of a train, peering up at the megastructure hovering above them like some kind of alien mothership from a blockbuster movie. Just seeing it goes a little beyond Desmond's comprehension – it's like someone took Manhattan and made it fly. It's standing on huge pillars, maybe, but still – how the hell …

"Yep," Aerith says with a sigh, hugging her knees as the wind whips her braid over her shoulder. "It made them all horribly wealthy, Mako, when they discovered it, figured how to pump it, how to use it to power machines. I wasn't born yet, back then, but it changed everything. Suddenly all these things, these wonderful things… impossible things… were possible."

"It's gotta be… pretty freaking powerful," Desmond says faintly. "Just building this place and – are those lights? They're huge."

"Mm, Sun Lamps," Aerith says, looking up. "You don't get natural sunlight down in the slums because the Plate is in the way. But most of the citizens of Midgar still live under the Plate, so… they made the Sun Lamps, to give us light, help us grow."

"What, they were added after they blocked out the sun with their… their super-UFO city?" Desmond asks incredulously. "Damn. This whole thing – I mean, assuming you people have an economy and things like these have to be paid for, who the hell has money for something like this?"

Aerith laughs at that, shaking her head. "ShinRa does," she says and holds her hand up, towards the central trunk of the mega structure, the biggest of all the pillars, which by itself gotta be hundreds of meters wide. "ShinRa controls all industry. All of it. They can do whatever they want with it. And they decided… to build the Plate."

"And ShinRa is…?"

"ShinRa Electric Power Company." Aerith says and hugs her knees again. "They developed Mako, built the reactors, and Junon and Midgar, and they… they control everything now. Everything."

"Uh-huh," Desmond says slowly. "So, uh. They're the bad guys?"

Aerith considers that and then sighs. "Yes, but – and," she says and then blows out a frustrated breath. "There's another thing – worse thing, I – I'm explaining all of this so badly," she says and wipes a stray strand of hair from her face, where it was whipping across her eyes in the wind. "There are so many bad things, I don't even know where to begin. ShinRa, they… made something bad. He's – it's a…" she trails away. "He's like us, but unlike us, and… if ShinRa doesn't kill the planet, then… he probably will, all the while thinking he'll be saving it."

"Okay, so, two big baddies," Desmond says, while mentally slotting ShinRa in the place of Abstergo. "Who's he then?"

"Sephiroth," Aerith whispers. "He's – powerful, and wrong, and confused, and poisonous, and – he's from the future too. Much, much further away into the future than I am – from the very end, I think."

"End of what? The world?" Desmond asks, and Aerith gives a very small nod. "Okay, evil poisonous guy from the world's end. Got it. Is he killable?"

Aerith blinks at that and looks up at him with surprise. Then, slowly, she shakes her head. "Cloud killed him," she says quietly, almost too quiet to be heard over the rush of air. "And killed him, and killed him again, but he… he kept coming back, until one day Cloud wasn't around to kill him anymore. After that, it was just a wait for the end, for the Planet to die."

Desmond runs a hand over his face. God, he needs a Shaun and the Database here, he needs someone to make little summaries of everything. He is barely keeping up, still hung up on the Plate, really. Geez. "So we gotta stop the world-controlling evil mega corporation that is pumping the planet dry of its lifeblood – and an immortal time-travelling bad guy. Gotcha," Desmond says and leans back. "And here I was thinking protecting a world from a solar flare was difficult, geez. Got me beat for problems, tell you what."

"Hm?" Aerith asks, tilting her head. "Solar flare?"

"Yea, my world – almost got roasted by a Super Solar Flare, it was a prophesied end of the world and everything," Desmond says and runs a hand over his chin. "I don't suppose there are other Ancients around with handy ancient technology that could Deus ex Machina all this away?"

"I – don't know what that means, but – there are some Ancients, their spirits, anyway, who linger, but… they can't do much," Aerith says and sighs. "The Planet has her own defences – the Whispers are one of them, and I think the Ancients, the Cetra, they helped those things to come into existence… but they didn't do much the last time."

"Ah, okay. So, no help coming from on-high?" Desmond guesses.

"I don't think so, no."

"Right," Desmond says and draws a breath. "Okay, how much time do we have until the end of the world?"

"Um…" Aerith considers. "If it goes really badly, then… a year."

Desmond breathes out a sigh of relief. "A year," he says. Could be better, could be worse, but it's some time. Time enough to do something, at least. "Okay."

Aerith nods and hugs her bent knees tighter. "Any more questions?" she asks.

"Yeah, actually," Desmond says, as the train finally begins descending towards the slums. "Why are we travelling on the rooftop of a train, again?"

"Oh – I don't have an ID, and I figured you definitely don't," Aerith says and shrugs. "We'd never make it through ID security checks. This is how I always travel between the upper Plate and the slums. I'm a bit of a fugitive."

"Oh. Okay," Desmond says and clears his throat. "Cool."

Desmond is still trying to wrap his head around the massive superstructure above their heads, when Aerith takes him into the slums, and – and that's a thing to try and wrap his head around too. Because the slums are massive too, and covered, all over, by scrap metal. He's starting to think that maybe it's not just that this world has scarily impressive industry – maybe they have like hundred times more metals than Earth does? Probably more, actually.

"Is – that a tank?" Desmond asks faintly, as they pass by what is undeniably a tank.

"Mm? Yes," Aerith says. "There's a few around – I think ShinRa just left them where they happened to run out of fuel. Not like there's much use for them, above the plate, and most everything they build these days either flies or has legs."

"What?" Desmond asks, his voice rising. "You mean – tanks that fly, and have legs?"

Aerith gives him a curious look. "You don't have robots in your world?"

"Well – we do, but – um…" Desmond trails away, trying not to feel like Earth is somehow inadequate here, or whatever – except up ahead, amidst all the metal trash and rusted up cars – and is that a train? – there's a … a hand. A big metal hand, a robot hand, except for giants. "What the hell is that?"

Aerith blinks at him, then looks at what he's looking at and then hums. "It's a big hand," she says.

"But – why?" Desmond asks. "Why is there a big hand sticking out of the pile of trash?"

"They're used in construction," Aerith explains.

Desmond draws a breath to say that that doesn't actually explain anything. But that wouldn't exactly help either, so he blows the breath out in a sigh. "Okay. Okay, big construction hands. Right-o," he says and sighs. "I'm in an alien world. With big construction hands, okay," he trails away with a little giggle. "This is great. I need a drink."

"Are you okay?" Aerith asks worriedly.

"The industrial revolution of your world must've been something else, damn," Desmond says and sighs again. "I'm good, sorry. I'm cool, I'm chill."

"Uh-huh," Aerith says a little dubiously. "Do you want to go take a look at the Big Hand?" she then offers, sympathetically.

"Yes, please."

It's a Big Hand, alright. Big metallic robot hand, with gears and wires and hydraulic motors or something – Desmond can't quite figure out how it works, but he can see that it does, and it can probably move like a hand too. The whole thing seems… just… epic beyond all reasonable expectations, but also very weird and a bit silly. That doesn't stop him from climbing all over and peering into the guts of the metallic fingers, trying to see what it's made of. Surprise, surprise – metal. Some kind of steel, considering that it's not all that rusted.

From atop the Big Hand he can see more of the slums – their ramshackle metal houses and all the discarded bits of tech and rubble all around. Crates, train cars, vehicles, all kinds of industrial scrap and waste. There's gotta be hundreds of thousands of tons of scrap metal, just lying around in the slums. The people there obviously have made use of a lot of it – but there's still a lot more left behind. Like actual whole tanks.

It's probably Ezio speaking, but damn… the things you could do with all of this. Leonardo would've been creaming his pants just from seeing this, huh?

"Desmond!" Aerith shouts from underneath, and Desmond quickly looks down, going instantly on alert. There are things crawling out of the scrap – Desmond doesn't stop to wonder what they are, all he needs is for the Eagle Sense to show them in vivid red, before he's got his blades out and is marking his targets. Aerith is waving her basket at the things, and – there.

With the hidden blade extended and knife in one hand, Desmond jumps, aiming for the neck of the nearest thing. It's some sort of spindly-legged insect thing, except huge – with a creepy round mouth and body like an enormous shrimp with a scorpion tail, it's got sort of natural armour plates on its back, and that's where Desmond aims, right in between them.

And under him, the scorpion-shrimp thing breaks apart and bursts into light.

"What the –" Desmond starts to ask, but there's no time – there are more of them coming, two more – one of them is already launching itself at Aerith, while the other is spitting something purple and vile in Desmond's direction. He quickly jumps and avoids the spit – it smells revolting – before going for the beast going after Aerith.

This one puts up a fight – and it's a lot harder to get at the neck with the thing aware of him. Neither the hidden blade nor the knife give Desmond much in the way of range – Aerith's got more with her basket, honestly – and with snarling, skittering little lunges, the beast keeps him at bay, snapping its round mouth in Desmond's direction menacingly.

"So your world got monsters too, huh?" Desmond asks, jumping in front of Aerith to keep her safe. "That's nice, that's really nice –"

"Your world doesn't?"

"Well, we got animals, but –" the shrimp-scorpion makes a lunge for him, and Desmond parries and makes to cut at it, swiping his knife over the thing's leg, but making only superficial damage against the armour. "Shit – maybe we should leg it, I don't have range on them."

"If we leave them, they might attack other people," Aerith says worriedly, holding her basket like a shield. "There are kids in the slums, and we're not that far from the town! Someone else might run into them."

Aww, shit. "Okay," Desmond says. "Killing them it is, then. But damn, I really want an explanation for all of this."

"Sure thing – later," Aerith says, and swings her basket at one of the beasts. It distracts the thing long enough that Desmond can make a go at it, jumping and sticking the thing with his hidden blade – but it doesn't go very deep, and it doesn't seem to slow the thing down.

His other attacks are much the same – he'd gotten lucky with the air assassination of the first one, but the other ones are tougher. He makes cuts and stabs here and there, but nothing really lethal. "Fuck it, I need a sword," Desmond mutters, shaking his hand and putting the hidden blade away. He's feeling all – antsy, all of a sudden. Like, like he wants to climb a fucking building or something. Run a marathon. He also really wants to beat these things, except his knife is bullshit at this. "Is this why Cloud carries with him a sword almost as big as he is?"

"Uhhuh," Aerith says, her back against his. Then she nudges him with her elbow. "You feel all full up – do you have any skills you could use to finish these things off?"

"I'm sorry? What do you think I'm doing? Okay, knifeplay isn't as impressive as swordplay, I get it, but I'm trying here - "

"No, no, I mean your ATB," Aerith says, swinging her basket again before looking at him over her shoulder. "You're all full up, I can feel it. Your, uh…  you don't have it in your world? Don't you get all, um… spirited up, when fighting?"

"What, like with adrenaline?" Desmond asks incredulously.

"No, I think it's more like magic – hm, maybe it's something only people in this world have, huh? Well, I can still feel it in you, you've gotten all heated up, so maybe you have it too now," Aerith says and nudges. "How about you try to release it? Could help us out of this bind."

"I have no idea what you're even talking about," Desmond says helplessly. "Release it how?"

"Just – aren't you feeling really excited? Don't you want to let go?" Aerith asks. "Just – do that. You're all powered up – let the power go, let it do its thing."

What does that even mean? Desmond shakes his head and then quickly puts up the knife, blocking a two-legged strike from the evil shrimp monsters. Fuck it. This day is already weird, Aerith keeps talking about magic, and apparently the planet under their feet is alive. What's the worst thing that could happen? "Right. Let the power do its thing, huh?" Desmond mutters and releases a slow breath. "Sure, I can do that."

It's – almost like when he touched the Eye, and maybe a bit like when he used the Apple. There's a buildup of nearly tangible power within him, and an actual flash of light around him – and then he can feel his image splintering. While Aerith spins around to watch, Desmond can feel things leaving him, splitting away from him, separating.

And then he's no longer facing the monsters alone – Ezio is standing beside him, with Altaïr on Desmond's other side, and ahead of them both stands Ratonhnhaké:ton. As Desmond stares, his knife almost slipping from his hand, Altaïr and Ratonhnhaké:ton rush forward to take out the nearest shrimp monster with extreme prejudice, Altaïr swinging a sword at it while Ratonhnhaké:ton just plunges his axe into it – on the other side, Ezio has taken a few running steps, and while Desmond just gapes, he launches at the last monster, both hidden blades out, striking each with unerring accuracy and with all the weight of his body's momentum right into the monster's head.

It's over almost as soon as it began, and while the shrimp-beasts begin breaking apart into flickers of light, Desmond's ancestors follow, fading into little floating motes and wisps of green light, turning transparent and then… vanishing.

"Oh, that's great," Aerith says and pats Desmond's shoulders. "Good job, Desmond! That looks like a handy skill to have. You did great."

"I," Desmond chokes, "have so many questions."

"Yeah, I bet," Aerith says. "We're not far from where I live now, though – just through the town, and there's home. We can talk there, okay?"

Desmond can't quite bring himself to answer, and in the end Aerith takes him by the hand and begins dragging him away, with Desmond still staring at where his ancestors had appeared and disappeared. "Okay," he murmurs. "Officially freaked out now."

Chapter Text

It feels a little like she's been dropped into a river, again. Everything is so – so… it's so much.

There's a difference between how it all feels, between the material world and the Lifestream. There's a grittiness to everything on this side, and it makes everything so messy – how it all flows through everything, but also around it. Everything is in motion, a river coursing rapidly, but also stagnant – stuff gathering up in wild little whirlpools and eddies or forming little stagnant puddles here and there, and – it's foul, kind of.

In her first life, Aerith had never understood it. She felt Lifestream then, but didn't understand it, didn't… recognize it the way she does now, as a part of herself as much as it is a part of the Planet. Or maybe she's a part of it – yes, that seems more accurate. She is part of it, and as such, she feels more of it and understands it better, and… and she knows why, now. Why it all feels so… so off.

Lifestream flows in all of ShinRa's Technology. Everything that uses electricity is ultimately fuelled by Mako, which is Lifestream condensed. And Lifestream reacts to that technology, to those circuits and power cells where Mako still lingers, the same way it reacts to Materia, and Magic, and her. And so, as ShinRa has developed and built and discarded hundreds of thousands of bits of little bundles of condensed Lifestream… they've left behind these little pockets of power, left them behind to fester.

And from those little points of spoilage, fiends crawl out. Infection of the Lifestream, given physical form.

Aerith had lived most of her life in Midgar. First time around she had known something was wrong, but she didn't know what or why, really. The second time she'd been so, so confused, that – that it didn't matter what she knew, her head was spinning so badly that she couldn't do much of anything with what she knew. Mostly she just… tried to go about everything the same way, the way the Whispers wanted to. Now…

Now she isn't sure what she's going to do, but it's gonna be more than that. Yes, she's sure of that – this time, she's gonna do more.

"Oh, wow," Desmond says, a little ahead of her, as they come to the Center District – what passes for the heart of Sector 5 slums. "This place is a lot bigger up close, huh."

"Hm?" Aerith asks, catching up with him and looking around. Desmond is staring up at one of the buildings – a ramshackle 6 storey construction of shipping crates and corrugated metal. "Impressed?"

"Kind of?" Desmond says, his eyes following the leads and pipes crisscrossing overhead before moving from one slum-scraper to another. "That can't be safe," he says, wincing. "Looks like half of these things could collapse any moment."

Aerith blinks and considers the building. "They do, occasionally," she muses, crossing her hands behind her back and sighing. "And people die. But – it's not like people here have much choice. While materials down here are pretty cheap, you can find good stuff just about everywhere, safe space to build on… is hard to come by. Because fiends spawn all over the slums."

Desmond folds his arms. "Um," he says, a look of concentration coming to his face. "And – I'm guessing building regulations aren't a thing?" he asks and when Aerith just blinks at him confusedly, he shakes his head. "Never mind. If materials are so cheap, why not…" he trails away and hums. "Wait, let me guess. Hiring proper builders and architects down here is… not a thing."

"Well… ShinRa employs most of them, and the rest… who would have the money to pay for stuff like that?" Aerith asks and concentrates. It's a serious question he's asking, and she asked for his help for a reason. "Um, I think some places here were built properly, by actual builders – and there are old buildings too, from before ShinRa, but… it's just so much cheaper to knock something together with a couple of friends than to bother with hiring someone. I mean – it's not like we have to worry about the weather down here, so it doesn't need to be good. Just private."

"Hmm," Desmond answers and looks up to the bottom of the plate above them. "It's gonna take me a while to wrap my head around," he mutters. "Okay. Where to next, then?"

"Right on through," Aerith says and points. "I live just across the town – come on, I'll show you around."

At least this part has never changed – the slums, this section of them, anyway, was the same in all her lives, so there's little for her to get confused about. While Desmond trails after her interestedly, Aerith shows him the shops, the Fifth Café, the Leaf House, trying not to feel too badly about all the people she knows, but who have started getting a little… blurry in her head. The kids she never got to see grow up, the adults who died during the Meteor strike…

There's a doctor, who calls her attention with, "Why hello, Aerith, popular as ever!" and says, "Thanks again for all those herbs. You helped a lot of people," and Aerith can't remember his name, or what she might've done for him, or… anything, really.

"Happy to help," she says anyway, because she was, had been, probably. Even if she can't remember what she did.

"How'd you find so many, anyway?"

She probably grew them on the secret patch behind the house, where she prayed in secret and made flowers bloom. "I have my ways. Can't let all my secrets out in the open, or else someone will pick up my methods and then I'll be out of customers," she winks instead of saying that, and the doctor laughs, good-natured.

"Herbs?" Desmond asks, as they move on.

"I'll explain later," Aerith says and gives him a smile. "Or show you, rather. Who knows – maybe you can do it too!"

She doesn't think so. Desmond doesn't… feel like that. As they move closer and closer to the house, and greenery begins peeking through the cracks of the slums and trash, the plants don't… lean towards him, the way they do towards her. There is none of that give and take of power she feels all the time, when she's close to greenery.

Desmond isn't that kind of Ancient – he's something else. Whereas she's floating on the surface of the lifestream like a lily pad, he's a plinth someone stuck in the middle of the stream – a manmade structure, well formed, artificial and unyielding somehow. And yet, the stream doesn't seem lesser for it – it just flows around it. Hmm…

"Huh," Desmond hums, ducking his head under a low hanging beam as they come closer to the house and have to walk under all the rubble, rather than over it. There's an old machine embedded in the wall there, a sort of tank, with plants growing between the wheels of its track. "Has anyone ever tried to make use of all this… stuff, lying around?"

"The plants? Well, sure – "

"I mean the vehicles," Desmond says, motioning at the tank. "These all seem to be in pretty good shape, really. With how many I've seen at a glance, you could probably throw together a working model, taking parts from the broken ones."

"Um, maybe? There are some that still work, but – it's not like we'd have much use for them. The big hands can come in handy, but they're impossible to move, and if they're not in a useful place, then, well," Aerith shrugs. "And what would we do with a tank? Even if we could get it to work, they can't fit to move down the streets, and ShinRa would probably put a stop to it right away."

"Hmm," Desmond hums and moves past the tank. "I see."

"You've really gotten hung up on the tech, huh?"

"It's just – really weird to me," Desmond mutters. "Back where I come from, you don't leave tanks just lying around like this. Even non-working ones. I mean – talk about waste of resources."

"Uh… huh," Aerith says and considers it. She's never really given it much thought – most of her life she's spent surrounded by ShinRa's cast-offs. The Planet is covered in ShinRa's junkyards and discarded projects. The slums under Midgar are just… one of many, to her. "Well, I hope you get over it soon, because there's way more where that came from."

Desmond looks a little pained by that. "Okay, I'll try. I guess."

Maybe he feels more kinship towards production because he's a kind of product himself? Aerith considers it and then shakes her head. No, that's just silly. "Well, anyway, we're almost home. Come on, I wanna show you my house."

Desmond follows her, as they come out from the tunnel dug into the rubble, and finally out to the house. Aerith breathes in deeply and sighs - the air is much nicer here, with more moisture and less metal and Mako in the air, and with all the plants, keeping it all clean. It hadn't been that long, really, since she was here last, but still – it's good to be home.

It's a little gratifying that Desmond seems suitably impressed with all the plants. "Nice," he says. "Here I thought it was just junkyards as far as the eye could see."

"It's a little oasis of green," Aerith agrees and pauses on top of the stairs leading down to the yard. "Um, I don't know how to ask this, so… I'm just going to ask it. You don't make the flowers grow, right?"

"Uh… no?" Desmond answers, giving her a curious look – and then he gets it. "But you do – right, of course, the flowers in the Grey. You made all these grow?" he asks, looking at the flower fields with a new eye. "Nice."

"Mm-hmm," Aerith says. "That's the power of the Ancients – or, my power as an Ancient. I can heal and I can make things grow, I can… purify things, too. I commune with the Lifestream, and together we can make nice things happen."

"Right," Desmond says, nodding. "I can see it, yeah."

"You're not like that, though, huh?"

Desmond leans onto the wooden railing beside the walkway and hums. "If you're asking me if I have magical power to make flowers bloom, then… probably not," he says. "But before coming here I didn't have that – what did you call it, ABT?"

"ATB. That's what ShinRa calls it, anyway, and I guess no one had a better name for it, since it's stuck," Aerith says, looking up at him curiously. "You really don't have it in your world?"

"We don't have magic in my world. Not like that, anyway," Desmond admits, running a hand over his short cropped hair. "What does it actually do – what does it mean? What is it, how does it work?"

"Hmm, well. It's your – spirit," Aerith says slowly, trying to figure out how to put it in terms he'd understand. "Kind of like adrenaline, but – spiritual. You build up a sort of, hmm…psychic momentum, when you're in a battle or something exciting or terrifying happens to you. It builds up into a sort of wave inside you, and when there's enough of it, you can – use it. Release it and do something special with it."

"Like, say, falling from a really high place without a parachute," Desmond murmurs. "And with it you can – make copies of people."

"Well, it's different for different people. Most people can use it to attack harder and faster, like Cloud," Aerith says, considering him. "I can do magic without needing Materia. I have some abilities, which I think are unique to me, as an Ancient. Healing, empowering spells, attacking with magic, things like that. I think making copies of people is your equivalent of that – it kind of looked like a Summon.

"Uhhuh," Desmond says, trying to keep up. "So next time I'm fighting, it might happen again. I get all worked up, and, poof, insta-backup?"

Aerith shrugs. "Maybe. Most people, when they figure it out, train to perfect their skills. I definitely did, as did Cloud, and everyone else too. They're useful. You should probably practice your skills too, when you get the chance."

"Right, right," he agrees, though he still seems a bit weirded out. "I'll… do that, sure. But – magic and this ATB stuff, they're different?"

"Magic is stuff you can do with Materia – I'll teach you, it's pretty easy, actually," Aerith says and tries to think what else she should tell him. "Oh, and I'll tell you about the history of the Planet, and what I know about ShinRa, and, uh… what's coming."

"That's a good place to start, sure," Desmond agrees, considering her. "First you should probably figure out what you're going to tell your mom about me. It's not like you can introduce me as your cousin to her."

"Oh – bother, you're right," Aerith mutters. "Well, actually I could, but – it would make her suspicious and worried, and, uh. Hmm." She considers him as he arches his brows at her, and then sighs. He's older than her, way taller, and – all covered in ash and soot, and his clothes are all burn-marked. "You need new clothes," she murmurs. But even with new clothes, he doesn't… fit. There's something about him that's just a little out of place. The short cropped hair, the face, the scarred lip, yeah, sure, those fit the slums alright – but something about his eyes…

He holds a gleam of his Lifestream in them, a glowing ember – or maybe a circuit? His Lifestream was all golden, and it was… weird and a little cold and so mechanical it put her off, a little. Looking into his eyes, she can almost see the circuitry behind them.

Clearing her throat, Aerith looks away. "I'll – mom isn't going to like it, however I put it," she says. Nor would she miss the strangeness of him. "So I guess I'll just tell her the truth."

"That I'm from another reality?" Desmond asks, calm, if a little amused.

"That you're like me," Aerith says firmly. "And you're going to help me. Aren't you?"

He sighs, and smiles. "Yeah, yeah, I am," he agrees and ruffles her hair. "No idea how the hell I'm gonna do it, but – sure as hell I'm gonna try."

Elmyra doesn't like it, peering up at Desmond suspiciously, and when Aerith introduces him with, "This is Desmond, Mom – he's like me!" her eyes only narrow further.

"Oh, is he now?" Elmyra asks, smiling with gritted teeth and steel-hard eyes. "Well, I'll be. How do you figure that, hm?"

"Oh, I just know. You know how it goes – sometimes you just know," Aerith says, and she can tell it's woefully lacking as an explanation. "He's come a long way to help me, because – because I need help with things." Oh, gosh, that's even worse!

"Uh-huh," Elmyra says, wiping her hands clean with a dishtowel. She looks between Aerith and Desmond, and Aerith can tell she wants to trust her, but she is also very suspicious about everyone who gets close to Aerith, always has been. "And how are you going to help her, hm, Desmond?"

"Any way I can, I guess," Desmond says, looking uncomfortable. "Um. I don't know yet, but that's what we're here to figure out, I think?" he glances at Aerith uncertainly.

"Since he's come such a long way, there's stuff he doesn't know, and I'm going to tell him," Aerith says quickly and begins usher Desmond up the stairs. "We're gonna talk a bit in my room, okay, Mom?"

"Right," Elmyra says, still giving Desmond a narrow look. "I suppose I'll be cooking for three tonight, then?"

"I'll come down and help you later!" Aerith says and steers Desmond away. Desmond lets her, letting her push him up the stairs and towards her room, ducking his head under the low doorframe as she ushers him in.

"Well," he says. "That was awkward. But your mom seems nice?"

"Yeah, she's a gift," Aerith sighs. "She's gonna interrogate you, probably. And maybe try to kick you out later. Never mind that – um, sit, sit down wherever."

He sits down on her bed, while Aerith wrings her hands and tries to think. With the hindsight of two lifetimes she can see all the stress she put Elmyra under with her shenanigans, but – she can't see how else to go about things. She would need to talk to her, probably. Maybe – maybe tell her the whole truth. "So, uh. Things I need to tell you. Where do I begin, um…"

"Hmm," Desmond says, looking her up and down. "Hey, you came back the same time I, uh,  arrived, right?" he asks then. "So it's been like a few hours for you too. And before that, you were – uh," he waves a hand mysteriously. "Right? You don't have to do everything all at once. You can sit down and – and take a breather first."

"I should, though – to prepare you, in case something happens," Aerith says, crossing her fingers and pacing a little. "There's so much that's coming up, and the Lifestream and – and the reactors, and ShinRa, I should – oh, I don't even know where to start!"

Desmond considers her. "Okay, I got the thing about the Lifestream, I got that ShinRa sucks and has all the resources and power and money, and Midgar is weird and full of Mako Reactors. There's like eight of them, right?"

Aerith looks up, surprised.

"Saw an advertisement thing somewhere along the way," Desmond explains, waving a hand. "Those reactors are the – the badness we need to fix, right?"

"That would be nice," Aerith admits. "Avalanche blew up one tonight, and the day after tomorrow they're going to try to blow up another, I can't – I'm not sure if it worked or not. It might've. After that, though, things get messy, and eventually we have to leave Midgar – oh, and, uh, there are more reactors elsewhere. In like, half a dozen places."

Desmond folds his arms. "And each one is pumping up Lifestream, killing your planet."

Aerith sighs in agreement and looks down. "In my first life, some of them were destroyed," she says quietly. "Avalanche got a few of them, and then there was the Meteor, and – that was after I died, but I think they stopped Mako production afterwards, but… it was too late by then. So many things had happened, and the Planet grew so weak."

"The… Meteor?" Desmond asks quietly. "What's that – an actual meteor, or…?"

"An actual meteor, summoned with magic," Aerith nods. "That happens in a year, or happened in my first life – a little over a year from now Sephiroth gets the Black Materia and uses it to summon a Meteor from space. It destroyed Midgar. Almost destroyed the world," she trails away and reaches for her hair, to ease out the White Materia from its hiding place. "I – I used this to combat it, to save the Planet," she explains. "It's called the White Materia, it – roused up the Lifestream to protect the Planet from the threat, but… that used up so much of the Planet's energy to do. So much power went into it, that…"

Her shoulders slump as she clutches her hands around the Materia.

Desmond looks at her without an expression, and then runs a hand over his face. "Okay, so that's the final deadline," he says. "A year from now, a world-ending meteor. Right."

Aerith laughs weakly. "I guess that's the deadline, yeah," she agrees. "Unless he does something else this time. I think he might – it didn't work, after all."

"The meteor?" Desmond asks.

Aerith sighs. "My second life – we managed to destroy a lot more of the reactors, and it was – it might've been enough… if Sephiroth hadn't succeeded in summoning the Meteor. It happened around the same time as in my first life, only the second…" she sighs. "The second time I didn't stop it."

"Oh," Desmond says, blinking slowly. "Well."

"Yeah," Aerith agrees and smiles at him painfully. "Here's hoping third time's the charm, eh?"

Chapter Text

Desmond is really starting to miss the Database. There's just so much to learn, things piling on top of each other, all these new and fantastical concepts leading into more fantastical concepts, all balancing on the precarious ladder of this is another world, and it's just… it's a lot of stuff. Makes him feel like he should start a conspiracy wall somewhere, sketching up some insane sounding nonsense and connecting it with red strings, just to try and make sense of it all.

The planet he's on is alive, and Earth was too, probably. Inside it flows a thing called the Lifestream, which is formed from all the living things that had died, and which gave life to everything – Desmond is just waiting for Aerith to say something about it surrounding them and binding them and holding the world together, and he'd have bingo on his Force Bingo card. Jokes aside, the Lifestream was condensed into Mako, which could be used like fuel and powers all sorts of whacky technology. And there's also Materia, which is probably the Lifestream, maybe Mako, and also makes magic happen?

"They look like this," Aerith says, holding a crystal orb about the size of a tangerine in her hands. "This is a Healing Materia, you can use it to cure cuts and burns and stuff. The more you use it, the stronger it gets, feeding off you and your experience and your MP."

"MP?" Desmond asks, desperately trying to keep up. "Is that – the ATP stuff, or different stuff?"

"Um. No, it's different, it's – like a well of power, but, uh, different from ATP?" Aerith hums, considering it. "MP you can use whenever, but you need to eat or rest to recharge it – or drink an ether, but those are really expensive. Anyway, the more you use a specific materia the stronger it gets, and the spells you can do with it get stronger too. Usually there's like, two or three spells per Materia – this one has 4, all mastered up. Cure, Cura, Regen and Curaga."

"Now you're just making up words," Desmond accuses her.

"No, I'm not," Aerith says, pouting at him and then holding out the Materia to him. "Go on, try it. Put it into a bangle."

"Into a what?"

So, yeah, magic is – confusing. Having to try and keep up with what Aerith explains about it is bad enough, but it comes with a side order of corporate dystopia, as Aerith wanders off to explain about how ShinRa produced Materia out of Mako, how much Lifestream it uses, how their elite soldiers, aptly named SOLDIERs, used it, and so on and so on, and, oh, by the way, "Cloud used to be a SOLDIER, kind of, but not really," which is not confusing at all.

Desmond is starting to feel a little like he did in those first days back with Abstergo, when he was trying to wrap his head around being not only kidnapped but part of a big lineage of assassins, and oh, yeah, genetic memories are a thing, what do you know. Geez, there should be a limit to how much mind-bending knowledge you're supposed to take in one night.

It's almost a comfort that the whole thing is exhausting Aerith too – except not really. The poor girl looks wrung out, anxious as she tries to cover everything as fast as possible, all the while confusing both of them even more.

"Okay, listen," Desmond says finally. "This is a – lot. And my head feels like it can't be blown up any more than it already has. And it's getting late. So, how about we shelve this for the night and pick it up tomorrow, okay?"

"No, I need to explain this, how are you going to know anything if I don't explain this?" Aerith asks, wringing her hands.

"I've already gotten one hell of a crash course, thank you, I appreciate it," Desmond says and runs a hand over his neck, standing up. "But you look exhausted, and I need a break. Will anything big happen tonight, anything earth-shattering?"

"Um," Aerith hesitates, thinking. "I think there was a thing up on the Plate – in my second life, I think it was an AVALANCHE attack, but – I don't – think it has anything to do with us?"

"Okay, so we can take the night off," Desmond says, and when Aerith lifts her chin and draws a breath to argue, he takes her by the shoulders. "It's enough to start with, Aerith, I'm about as well-informed as I've ever been. Alright? But I need a break, we both need a break. And you should sit down and talk with your mom, right? Or do you… not want to do that?"

"No, I – I do, I want to talk to her," Aerith says, biting her lip. "But you –"

"I need some fresh air," Desmond admits. "You talk with your mom, 'kay, have dinner with her, pretend to be normal, all the nice things – I'm gonna go take a walk in the meanwhile.  Clear my head a bit. This has been – a lot."

Aerith frowns and then sighs. "I guess it has," she says. "Um. Are you sure, though? I mean, you don't know Midgar, or the slums – "

"All the more reason to go out and have a look," Desmond shrugs. "You showed me around, remember? I can manage, and I'll be back before morning, alright?"

Aerith looks at him and then hangs her head, running her hands over her face. "Yeah, okay," she says and then lifts her face, almost forcibly perking up. "But I expect you back first thing in the morning, Mister! There's still a lot to cover!"

"I'll be here," Desmond promises.

It's a kind of an escape on his part, and Elmyra looks both annoyed and relieved to see him slip out without staying for dinner, but, seriously. Desmond's head is pounding, and he does need a break. He needs to move. Damned Assassin genes – he can't really think straight unless he's moving.

He takes a moment in Aerith's garden, enjoying the view of it. It's pretty, even with the lights overhead turned low – there's this faint green glow coming from above, with little pinpricks of light here and there, it almost looks like a night sky, but not really. It makes the garden look all mysterious. But having seen the slums around them, all those structures, the discarded, half finished bits of buildings, the rubble, the sheer abundance of climbable ruins… Desmond is itching to explore all the forgotten corners.

So, that's what he does, making his way out of Elmyra's and Aerith's land, climbing his way out of the street and on top of the bank of rubble enclosing the oasis in their protective walls and – yeah.

The slums are something else, damn.

There are lights here and there, where people are living – some of them are electric, a lot have that same greenish glow which probably comes from Mako, but some are just straight up fires. Between those clusters of light there are stretches of darkness and rubble, with metal beams and broken bits of concrete sticking out from amidst what might've been natural canyon walls, before everything was covered in several dozen feet of junkyard.

Climbing on top of what might've been a piece of a construction crane once, Desmond pulls himself up to sit crouched upon its highest point and peers at the mess of the slums. Recycling is really just not a thing here, huh? People just dump their industrial trash wherever. Wild.

Taking a deep breath and looking up to the massive shape of the megastructure above him, Desmond shudders and then closes his eyes. He can roll with this, he thinks. He's bitten off way more than he realised here, but he can roll with it. Just do what all his ancestors would do.

Releasing a slow breath, Desmond opens his eyes to Eagle Vision, watching the lights dim and shadows blur – and pinpoints of importance, rising themselves up in the darkness. There, there, there, there… Quietly he marks every point of interest in an already growing mental map, judging distances as he does. A handful of golden points of interest, and a whole lot more points of danger. Monsters in the slums, spawning from the pollution.

Weighing his options, Desmond picks the monsters and then looks down. There is a – it looks like a shipping container full of trash. Whatever it is, it glows white in Eagle Sense, so… that's what he aims at, as he stands up on the crooked crane and spreads out his arms.

"Here we go," Desmond breathes out, and jumps.

Desmond fights rats in a narrow stretch of metal scaffolding in an abandoned corner of the slums. Rats. Only they're the size of dogs, and probably bigger. And they're mean as hell. Insert all the jokes about here he thought the rats of New York were big, and so on.

It feels a bit mean, to just go after the things like he does, but – if fighting is the only way he can figure his ancestors appearing and disappearing right in front of him, then, hell, that's what he's gonna do. And it's not like the rats make him feel particularly sorry for them – all he has to do is wander near them, and they attack. Hell, a time or two the rats actually seem to go about their way to ambush him.  And they glow red too, so… Desmond's got Eagle Vision's seal of approval on his monster hunting. It's just about as good a criteria for judgement as he has in this weird new world.

The ATB thing happens in every fight – the buildup, anyway. The more he fights, the harder he hits, the more the power inside him wells up – but the release doesn't happen every time, not at first. It takes him several fights and hunting down some more creepy insect-shrimp monsters, before he figures it out – how to hold it, how to prolong the fight just so that he gets that rush, and then…

Then he lets it go, and his Ancestors split away from him. One fight it's just one of them, the next time it's two, then one again, and then it's all three – Haytham never shows up, though, which is just as well. The first two times Desmond is a bit too affected to really capitalise on their appearance at all, and all he can do is gape as his Ancestors take down the poor beastie he was almost toying with at that point… but as Desmond figures it out more, he manages to summon them a little earlier, and hold them a little longer.

"Hey, can you talk?" Desmond asks, as Altaïr guards in front of him, sword at the ready, with a handful of monster rats milling about. "Can you hear me – can you answer to me? Altaïr? Please answer me if you can."

He doesn't – instead Altaïr waits for an opportunity, and the moment the nearest rat makes for a lunge, he parries and slits the thing's throat, all in one smooth brutal move. Then he disappears, leaving Desmond to contend with the rest of the rats on his own until his ATB goes up again, and then there's that rush, that release, and the split – and Ezio, brutally stabbing his way through the rest of their enemies.

None of the Assassins he summons talk, none of them listen to him. They're not really… real, Desmond figures pretty soon, much to his own disappointment. They're something real-ish, that's for sure, but they don't act or react like people. All they do is fight for that little amount of time they're there, and then they disappear in green flickers, leaving Desmond with the feeling of hollow strength as something returns back to him, and he's left alone.

They're manifesting out of him, he thinks – from his memories, his genes, whatever. They're – genetic memory, given physical form by the weird, whacky natural laws of this place… but they're not fully there. Not like they were in the Animus.

"Okay," Desmond sighs, nursing a scrape across his arm where a rat got to him. It stings. "I can live with this. I can handle this. I can deal."

He doesn't really feel like he's dealing with it very well, but… he can summon instant backup in a fight. That's awesome. Especially since the slums are infested with monsters. Could be worse. Could be better too, but yeah. Could be worse.

"Right," Desmond says and stretches. Enough fighting – time to go and check out the key points of interest the Eagle Sense showed him.

The closest point of interest is a young woman, sitting alone on a metal beam, a remnant of what had once been an apartment building. Desmond makes sure she sees him coming before stopping on top of a shipping crate just below her, peering up at her. "Late to be out and about," he comments. She looks about sixteen, and there's a bruise on her cheek. "You stuck up there?"

"No, leave me alone," she mutters, picking up a piece of broken brickwork and throwing it haphazardly his way. "I do not have anything for you! Go away!"

Desmond watches the brick fall about ten feet short of him and then rests his hands on his hips. "You look like you're in trouble. Maybe I can help."

"Go away!" the girl snaps and pulls her feet up and scrambles out of sight.

"Hmm," Desmond hums, watching her go. Chasing after her would be – bad. She looked like she was in a fight, or at least someone hit her, and he's a big dude, so. Yeah. It doesn't look like she's got far to go, though – not much space up there. "I got healing Materia!" he shouts after her. "I'll let you borrow it! Come back and I'll throw it up to you!"

It's quiet for a moment, but she's still there, he can see her glow, still golden, still important. After a while, she peeks out past the broken bits of concrete and metal. "Toss it up, then."

"It was lent to me by a friend, please give it back after you're done, okay?" he calls back to her, and after she's agreed, he tosses the Materia up. It's not like he can do anything with it – he doesn't have equipment with the right slots. The girl up on the broken building does, apparently – she slots the thing into a gun and a moment later there's a flush of green on the floor above, as she heals herself.

She looks a lot better, when she inches back to the edge and tosses the Materia back. "… thanks," she says, awkward. "You weirdo."

"That's me," Desmond agrees, pushing the Materia back into his pocket. "You in trouble? I'm Desmond, by the way, nice to meet you."

"Ugh," the girl says. Whether she's warmed up to him or if she's just in that bad of a place, Desmond doesn't know, but she doesn't run away again and instead sits back down on the edge. "It was – my boyfriend. He, uh – I was supposed to do a job for him. Or for his boss, kind of – he promised to do something, but he's dumb and he couldn't, but I could, so he figured, we're like a team, right? So I could to-otally hack this ShinRa system for him, no biggy, no nothing. Fuck…" she tears up. "He hit me – can you believe it? The asshole hit me. Because I didn't –"

Her voice breaks and Desmond makes a sympathetic noise. "Because you didn't want to break the law?"

"Oh, like I give a crap. I wanted a cut of the pay, but he was like, nuh-uh, since it was his job, he'd get all the pay," the girl says and scoffs, rubbing at her face. "Stupid ugly bastard, never liked him anyway… "

Desmond makes some more sympathetic noises. "Do you want me to go and punch him for you?"

"Oh, would you?" the girl asks, brightening up instantly. "Not like – not like hard, don't kill him or anything, but, he could do with a punch. In the dick, maybe. You could punch him in the dick, but like, lightly."

"Sure, I can punch the guy in the dick, lightly," Desmond snorts. "Where can I find him?"

He finds the guy not very far at all – just outside a shack which is apparently their house, kicking pebbles and bits of concrete around and ranting about getting his ass handed to him by his boss and how dare that stupid chick talk back to him, and so on. Desmond punches him in more places than just in the dick, and carefully doesn't release any of his ancestors on the guy.

"What is your problem man?!" the petty thug demands, once Desmond has gotten his message across.

"Domestic violence," Desmond says, hauling the guy up by the collar of his leather vest. "I'm morally opposed. Let's talk a bit about how we treat our romantic partners, hm?"

It's kind of cathartic, in a way he hadn't realised he really needed. It feels like more than a lifetime ago now, but man, there had been some customers at Bad Weather that he seriously wanted to teach better manners to. This guy doesn't go all the way of scratching that particular itch, but it definitely makes Desmond feel a little better about things.

This world might be weird and magical and kind of terrifying, but at least he can trust to find some assholes to punch. Yay for humanity.

"Oh man, you seriously punched him in the dick," the girl cackles, when Desmond finds her after, not very far from the house – near enough that she must've seen everything. "That was worth everything, man. I owe you one."

The girl's name turns out to be Suzz, and she makes money by, among other things, jailbreaking and hacking ShinRa tech, reprogramming it and then selling it on for profit. Mostly people hire her to make fake IDs and such, and to do the occasional spot of hacking – key cards into various forgotten ShinRa depots were especially lucrative. "But to you, I'll give a discount – and a little extra, for sorting Jazz out," she offers with a wink.

Jazz and Suzz. Cute. "I could use an ID, actually," Desmond says thoughtfully. "Or actually – I need something to make notes with. A bit of tech, handheld – something I can record and write with. You got anything like that?"

"That's it? Boy, I got a bucketloads of PHSes just lying around," Suzz says and waves him into her shack. "Come on, I'll pick you something good."

Desmond is working his way through figuring out the, uh, PHS? Why does everything in this place have to be an abbreviation, seriously. The thing is a smartphone, clearly. Anyway, he's figuring out how to use it, when he comes across his second point of interest. It's a guy, digging around in the trash for something, picking bits he found up and then throwing them away.

"Hey man," Desmond asks, pushing the PHS away. "Looking for something specific?"

The man peers up at him suspiciously. "What, why – so you can steal it?"

Desmond holds up his hands. "I don't even know what you're looking for, why would I want to steal it? I'm just passing through and bored – maybe I can help?"

"I don't know you, how do I know you won't just run off with it?"

"You… don't?" Desmond offers and shrugs. "Just thought I'd offer. I got pretty sharp eyes and I'm good at finding things, so… but if you'd rather not, I can just move along."

The man grumbles something under his breath. "Fine – shit. Wife dropped her damn keys here somewhere, been looking for them all damn evening – if you can find them, I will be damn impressed – figure some beastie or a crow's gotten them by this point, or something."

"Great," Desmond says and activates Eagle Sense. "Let's see…"

It takes some digging, but he does find the keys pretty easily – in a ditch, hidden behind a rusted up wheel, half buried under a bit of fallen trash. The man squints at him suspiciously when Desmond jangles them in front of him and then sighs. "Well,  I'll be damned," the man says, and snatches them back. "Right. What do you want then?"

"Fame and fortune," Desmond shrugs. "Nah, I don't mean that – just to make some friends, I guess. Hi, I'm Desmond, I'm – new around here."

"Huh," the man answers and then shakes his head and offers his hand. "Well, the name's Dennis – I run the weapons store in the Center District. You look like you've been through some fights recently – you got a weapon on you? Armour? Why don't you swing by and see what I have in stock."

"That sounds great, I'll do that," Desmond says, shaking the guy's hand. "Once I have money."

"Hah!" Dennis says and then considers the keys. "Say, you seem to be good at finding things. Think you could find something else for me? Be a bit of gil in it for you, if you did. Might even throw in a little something from the store's stockpile."

Desmond grins. Now, now life is starting to make sense again. "What are you looking for, then?"

It ends up being a busy and productive night, all told.

Chapter Text

Aerith hesitates on the second floor stairs, crouching down to listen. It sounds like Desmond is back, and he's talking to Elmyra – and, like she'd expected… Elmyra is trying to get him to leave.

"… enough trouble in her life, she does not need this," Elmyra is saying. "Whatever your deal is, whatever she thinks you are to her – it won't make her any safer, will it? Even if I believed you were like her, which I don't think I do… she's safer without you drawing attention to her."

"Mm," Desmond answers, noncommittal.

"So, please, just leave before she wakes up," Elmyra says. "I'll make your excuses, say something came up – she'll get over it soon enough."

"Hm," Desmond answers. "Okay, I appreciate you being worried and all – but that's… not your choice to make. I'm sorry. She called me here, so she calls the shots. So as long as she expects to see me here, I'm not going anywhere."

There's a bang, a fist against a wooden counter. "You're older than her," Elmyra says. "And if – if you have any clue as to what kind of danger she is in – if you knew, and cared at all about her, you'd leave."

"What kind of danger is she in, then? Why don't you tell me about it?"

Aerith hugs her knees, considering going down there to interrupt them before it goes too far, but… She'd tried to explain everything to Elmyra last night, and it hadn't gone well. Not that Elmyra didn't believe her, or trust her on her word, but… there was that honey, you're just confused and this needs to be handled with care quality to their talk, which usually means Elmyra isn't fully hearing what Aerith is saying. Which was – awkward, to say the least, and didn't really get the point across.

Down in the kitchen, Elmyra draws a breath. "ShinRa is – after her. They tolerate her being down here, give her a level of freedom, but they know where she is, always – Turks come every now and then to check up on her, and she's under constant surveillance. If they find out what she thinks is another Ancient, if they decide that makes her, and you, much more interesting… One Ancient is big enough, but two – and one is a woman and the other a man? That's –"

A scary thought, yeah.

"They might come down here and try to get us?" Desmond asks, with no hint in his voice that he probably has no idea what a Turk even is.

"Yes," Elmyra says, firmly. "They will come and take you, and they will take you to a laboratory to experiment on you – or worse. Did she tell you about her birth mother? She was ShinRa's guest when Aerith was young, and she died to escape – and before that, they performed Goddess only knows what kind of experiments on her. They have let Aerith slip for now, because she was too young to have her mother's powers yet, but I fear, soon…"

Aerith rests her chin on her knee. It's a valid concern, all things considered – especially since that's exactly what happened. Happens. Will happen.

"If they find out about you, if they think you're like her, that you're an Ancient –" Elmyra stops with a frustrated noise. "Are you? Are you really?"

Desmond hums. "I think so, yes. Not like Aerith, though, I'm – a bit different from her. But yeah."

"Oh, damn it… you need to leave. You need to leave, and hide, and pray to the Goddess they haven't heard about you yet."

"Yeah – no. Not going behind Aerith's back – like I said, she calls the shots."

Aerith smiles a little at that and then stands up swiftly. Would be probably better if she knew what she was going to do, sure, but – it's nice to be trusted. Kind of scary too, but… she can handle scary.

Without further ado she heads downstairs, making sure to make enough noise that they hear her coming, before cheerfully calling, "Good morning!"

Elmyra looks up from the stove top with a sigh and then smiles, and the strain around her eyes is almost invisible. "Good morning, Aerith," she says, while Desmond, who is standing near the door, waves a hand in greeting. "Breakfast is almost ready – why don't you two take a seat?"

Aerith nods with a slight stretch and looks to Desmond. "How was your walk?" she asks, ignoring the way Elmyra turns to look at the frying pan, obviously trying to hide her expression.

"Productive," Desmond admits.

"What did you do?"

"Ran around a bit, climbed some things, talked to some people, made some friends," Desmond shrugs and steps forward to take a seat by the kitchen table. "There are a lot of people around here who need help, it turns out."

"Well… I guess?" Aerith says, sitting down and wondering. Obviously there would be, but… somehow she hadn't expected Desmond to care, really. But then again, he is, ah, what was it… a murder-guardian? No, that's not right… "Did you help them?" she asks curiously, wondering what helping people actually entails with Desmond.

"Some of them. Helped a girl settle a dispute with her boyfriend, helped the local blacksmith, Dennis? He was looking for some specific metals, so I found him some," Desmond says, sitting down across from her. "Then there was a guy who had some personal effects stolen, helped him find them… the usual little stuff."

"Huh," Aerith says. "That's great, that you helped them, but, uh… how? I mean," she adds when he gives her a curious look. "The people of the slums aren't the most… trusting of strangers, and it's kind of obvious you're not from around here. How did you even get people to tell you what was wrong, never mind trust you to help them?"

"Guess I just have one of those faces?" Desmond offers, smiling.

"Hmm," Aerith considers his face. "Maybe?"

Elmyra glances at them over her shoulder. "Did Aerith tell you to do that?" she asks tightly while turning the stove off. "Go out and help people?"

"No?" Desmond asks. "Kind of?" he glances at her. "I mean we're trying to save the world, so, in a way maybe? But not these people, specifically, no."

"So why do it?"

"Because I like helping people?" Desmond offers, giving her a smile, which, judging by Elmyra's expression, she doesn't buy for a second. "And also I want to make some friends. Is that a bad thing?"

Elmyra searches his expression for something false and then sighs, her shoulders slumping. "No, it isn't," she mutters and runs a hand over her hair. "You really are an Ancient then, huh? You're a lot like Aerith, after all. Is that what all Ancients do – help people?"

Desmond lets out a noise like he wants to laugh, and Aerith hums, clasping her hands together. "Wouldn't that be nice, though?" she asks a little wistfully. "I mean, if there were more of us than just us two. If there were more people around who wanted to help other people…" then maybe they could really do this, and it wouldn't be so hard.

Elmyra shakes her head and carries the frying pan over to the table. "It would be a better world, yeah," she says and apparently gives up. "Alright, so what are you two going to do, about… saving the planet?"

"Um…" Aerith hesitates, reaching for a plate. "I'm still – figuring that one out. But I'm hoping, with Desmond here – I'm hoping we can do it, together."

Desmond hums, looking at the food. "We'll do what we can," he says, perking up as Elmyra begins serving it for all of them. "Probably best we start small, though, and… not draw attention to ourselves, too much of it, anyway," he adds, like an offering.

"I'm glad to hear it," Elmyra says firmly.

After breakfast, Aerith heads out to check up on the flowers and water them, and Desmond trails after her, carrying buckets and watering cans for her. "I had a look around," he comments. "This is the only place in Sector 5 with greenery, huh? It just sort of radiates out of this place to the Center District. Your doing, right?"

"Mm-hmm," Aerith agrees, while starting to pour water in a patch of lilies. "It's not very subtle, but I can't really help it, and since the Turks know where I am anyway, it's not like there's a point to hold back. It makes life down in the town much nicer, I think – people are much more cheerful than they were, when I was just a little girl and the plants hadn't started growing yet."

"Right," Desmond agrees, looking around. "It's nice, it's really nice. But I have to ask – um…" he trails away. "The Mako Reactors are pumping up Lifestream, I got that bit, I think. And them pumping it out is a bad thing, I'm pretty sure I got that right. So, the way plants grow around here – or rather the way they don't seem to grow out anywhere else…?"

Aerith empties the watering can over the lilies. "Yeah," she says sadly, setting the can aside. "Flowers don't grow anywhere else on Midgar, except where I am. Mom says they did, in the beginning, but… after a few years, everything started drying up."

"Right. From what I saw climbing a few towers, the ground beyond the wall, outside Midgar – it looks pretty dry too," Desmond comments.

"Yeah. It's all dead for almost half a hundred kilometers out," Aerith agrees with a sigh. "Pretty sad, huh?"

"Yeah," Desmond agrees quietly and holds out another watering can for her. "So, the question I have is – do you, like… produce faux-Lifestream for the plants here, or… or does the Lifestream move towards you? Assuming you need Lifestream for plants to grow, it's gotta be getting here somehow, right?" he motions around them.

Aerith pauses at that and looks around them. "I think – I think the Lifestream moves towards me," she admits. "It – I can feel it, always, underneath us. It's a trickle here, like a clogged stream, but always moving – out there, outside the influence of the reactors, it's like… walking on a river of light, all the time. It's a little overwhelming, really, out there, but here…" she shrugs her shoulders. "I think it can feel me too, feel a sort of… kinship with me. The Ancients influenced the Lifestream so much, long ago – they still do, and they… know me."

Desmond tilts his head, watching her. "So," he says. "The Lifestream can move. It can be moved," he comments.

Aerith hesitates at that – she can see what he's thinking, but… "It's – too much, for me," she says quietly and draws a breath. "Out there, it's always almost too much for me, it's so powerful, it always knocks me off my feet. I'm more used to this," she motions around them. "This small trickling flow. I have no control over it, I can't really influence it, beyond the usual thing anyone can do. If I try, I think – I think it would sweep me away, like a tidal wave."

Desmond says nothing for a moment, considering her. "Well," he says. "Something to keep in mind, anyway."

They water the plants while Aerith chews on her lip, worrying over it. Could she control the Lifestream? Sure, with the White Materia, she managed to do it somehow. Would doing it kill her and the Planet? The first time, the White Materia had been the final nail in the Planet's coffin. The second time, knowing where it would end, she hadn't even tried. This time… maybe she would try again, this time, and maybe it would kill her. Maybe not.

It's just so much, too much, for her to even think it. "If I could, I would," she whispers, after they're done watering the pumpkins. "I would do it, if I could, if I knew how, if I could make it work."

"Yeah," Desmond agrees. "I know you would."

Aerith nods, drawing some strength from that confidence, and then looks up. "So," she says, brightening a little. "Helping people, huh? You're trying to take Cloud's job as the merc of the slums, huh?"

"I don't know what that means," Desmond admits.

"He did small jobs for gil, built up a good reputation, a lot of good will," Aerith shrugs. "As a mercenary."

"Good for him," Desmond says easily. "Very civic-minded."

Aerith narrows her eyes. "You're not telling me something," she says and her eyes widen. "Wait, is mom right – you do have an agenda! What is it?"

"What, who, me? Nah," Desmond says, pushing his hands into the pockets of his dirty hoodie. "I just like to be helpful."

"Uhhuh," Aerith answers suspiciously, peering at his face. His eyes are gleaming, it almost looks like mischief. "Hmm… okay then. Let's go help people – I want to see what you do."

What Desmond does is… kind of scarily efficient.

He climbs an old building, peering around, goes, "Aha," and then climbs down. "Found one, this way." And then he leads her to an old man whose name Aerith had once known, who's looking for something in the rubble - a new walking stick for his wife, it seems like.

"It's her knee, you see, it's acting up again and it would be better for her to walk with one. I swear I saw one around here on my walk the other day, but I can't seem to recall…" the old man muses and eyes Aerith. "I don't suppose you have anything for knee pain, missy?"

"I might, but how about we help you find the cane, first?" Aerith offers, trying to remember the old man's name - it started with a B, she thinks - and turns to see Desmond already holding the thing.

"It was just over there," the man says, cheerful, and hands it over to the old man. "Here you go."

"Why, thank you," the old man with a name that starts with a B says, surprised and accepts the somewhat battered but perfectly serviceable cane. "My, that was fast."

"Yes, it was," Aerith agrees, eyes narrowed.

Desmond rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet and grins. "Just lucky. You need help with anything else, old man?"

Old Man B doesn't need any more help and so they go out looking for someone else - and again, all Desmond has to do to find one I just… that. He climbs his way on top of some crates, looks, and goes, "Got another one, pretty close by. This way."

The second one is a bit more dire than the first - a woman attacked by some monsters on her way from the shops, they'd stolen her groceries and she is crying, "It was my-my whole pay for this-this week! I-I don't know how I am going to feed Andie and Melly and - "

Aerith does her best to comfort the woman while Desmond looks around and bolts off - after the fiends. Aerith teeters between comforting the woman and going after him, and as it doesn't look like the woman is going anywhere anytime soon, she says, "Stay here, we'll see what we can do!" And then hurries after Desmond.

Desmond has definitely been practicing while he was out - there's a little less flailing than the first time, and a bit more fighting. Not that he'd been bad at it before, but he's definitely improved - by the time Aerith makes it to him, there's only one rat left, and he wastes little time dispatching it.

The groceries are mostly intact, if a little battered. The woman is almost too shocked by their return to thank them properly. Aerith is suspicious.

"Alright, mister, how are you doing this?" she asks, eyes narrowed, trying to figure it out. There is no way he could've seen the woman, and how did he even know which way the rats had gone? "Is it telepathy? Is it sixth sense? Are you scrying them, what?"

Desmond just grins in answer, hanging off a half collapsed construction crane, peering into the distance. "Got another one, bit more dire than the others, but it's gonna be a bit of a hassle getting there, though. Mind your skirt."

Hassle isn't even half of it – what Desmond wants to do is make a beeline through all the trash and over all the rocks and piles of rubble, climbing a few destroyed buildings while he's at it, using a sort of agility that borders on inhuman. He climbs like he's weightless, like there are handholds and footrests everywhere, and just scrambles into impossible places and, "Alright, how are you doing that?" Aerith demands, still on the ground level, staring.

"Parkour," Desmond says, crouching up on the third floor of what was once a several storey building. "This place is a heaven for parkour – what, no one climbs here?"

"Well, some do, but not like that!" Aerith says, shaking her head. Cloud could do it a little, and Tifa definitely, and Yuffie could be a monkey when she wanted to be, but compared to the way Desmond moves? Nuh-uh. "Teach me how to do that," Aerith pleads eagerly.

"Sure," Desmond says, laughing. "Though maybe we should start with something smaller." He takes a moment to look around, humming in satisfaction, "Still going the right way," and then he jumps, like a crazy person – he just jumps. Aerith lets out a horrified gasp – she's not sure how strong Desmond is, but she's pretty sure he isn't like Cloud or the SOLDIERs, he can't just take a fall like that and walk it off, and he just jumped -

Desmond makes a graceful arch, flips in mid air, and then lands into a nearby crate full of tarps. He's out of it and on his feet before Aerith can even rush over to check him for injuries. "There, now – "

"Now wait just a minute! What was that?!" Aerith asks and whacks him lightly across the shoulder. "How did you – why did you -?"

"What?" Desmond asks, feigning confusion while badly smothering a smug little grin. He's enjoying himself!

Aerith stomps her foot. "You just jumped off a building!"

"Well… there was a safe landing spot?" Desmond points at the crate. "Nothing to it."

"That's not – how even –" Aerith lets out a breath. "How did you know you wouldn't just break your neck? You don't have enhancements! Or do you?" she hesitates, looking him up and down. She'd thought he was like her, did she get confused, did she… get mixed up or... "This is very confusing."

Desmond looks at her confusedly and then hums, a little sheepish. "Right, um. I can see these things? Uh, why did you think I was climbing high places to look – I can see things. Safe places, dangerous places, safe people, dangerous people – people who need help. And so on. I could tell that this," he motions to the crate, "was a safe landing spot."

Aerith blinks and then leans back. "Oh," she says and tries to imagine it. "That's… not a power I have."

Desmond shrugs. "Yeah, I figured. It's something Isu descendants in my world had – Eagle Vision," he says and shrugs. "I guess it's like – our version of being able to make flowers grow, to see important things? I don't know."

"Hmm…" Aerith hums. "So you can just… see people who need help, across the whole sector?" That's… so handy. "Wait. Were you showing off?" she asks then, giving him a look. 

"Yep," Desmond shrugs unrepentantly. "I was, and yeah, I can see when people need help, and that one," he motions to the direction they'd been going, his expression going a little more serious, "is getting a bit urgent, and I think we need to pick up the pace now."

"Right," Aerith says, and shakes her head. She'd ask more about it later. "Let's get going then."

Desmond shows her how to move about the slums a bit more efficiently, not that she really gets it in that short a period of time – there's a lot of leaps and falls and swinging and twisting around things, which to Aerith look more like something up Tifa's alley, not hers. All the while they make it closer and closer to the person in need of help.

"Maybe I can set up like a parkour practice area," Desmond muses as they go. "There's definitely enough stuff here to build one. I'm probably going to need one anyway, to teach other people…"

"Teach other people?" Aerith asks, trying to catch her breath.

"Well, that's why I'm here, right? To build up a Brotherhood?" Desmond asks, looking at her and holding out a hand to help her over a gap. "From what I've seen so far, the Slums seem like a perfect place for it, too. All this stuff just lying around – and the people don't seem exactly thrilled with the way things are going."

"R-right," Aerith says, jumping over and trying to remember. Brotherhood, that's… a loaded word, but. It means something else for Desmond, and – and it was one of the reasons why she liked him, when they met. That – that fellowship he had about him, which he wore like a cloak. All those people who came before him… "So you think you could build something like that here?"

"You said it'd fit right in here," Desmond says and patting her shoulder and continuing forward. "I'm still kind of getting my bearings here, and it's a bit much for a newcomer like me to start throwing my weight around about how things ought to go, but… I get the sense that people here want to fight for what they want and believe in. Right? There's this…" he smiles and glances at her. "Potential to this place."

"Hmm. I think see," Aerith says and hugs herself. She isn't sure she understands the implications, but – she trusts that Desmond does. "It would be nice, if people could… fight for what they believe in, yeah. AVALANCHE tries, and so do others, but… I get the feeling you'd do it differently from them."

"Can't say much to that," Desmond shrugs as he walks. "But I got more than enough knowhow about how these things happen, though I never got to use it in life. Would be nice to get a chance to do that here – if you don't mind."

"No, no, I don't mind, not at all. I mean – it's why I asked you to come here," Aerith says, leaning to a wall for balance. "So that you could help, whatever way you can. This is… a way, I think. Your way."

"Yeah. Still got ways to go before I can start, a lot more scouting to do," Desmond says. "I've only seen a bit of this city. Gotta see a lot more before I can start." He peers up ahead. "I think that's them over here now – oh boy, they don't look too good, do they…?"

Aerith looks where he's looking, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the glow of the Sun Lamps, and – she sees it. A splash of red and a lot of black and dark grey, a jumpsuit – a SOLDIER's jumpsuit, all torn up and dirty. And the man, wearing it, leaning onto a rusty piece of pipe, his head hanging forward, black spiky hair obstructing her view of his face.

But she knows him anyway.

There are Whispers whirling around him like angry ghosts, and it looks like he's been fighting them, like he's still fighting them, only he's tired, catching his breath. Oh, how long has he been –

Aerith can feel – it's as though all colour is suddenly bled out of the world, only to blow up in her face a spit of a second later, as everything goes quiet and then too loud and too much, as reality re-asserts and she realises – something was changed, the last go around, Cloud did something, changed something, only the change didn't follow them through to that timeline, it couldn't. Cloud changed the past for one moment, for one small bit of time, 7 seconds long, and another timeline was split, and now Aerith is in that timeline, and – and –!  

And there is Zack Fair, right in front of her, covered in blood, still fighting for his life.

Chapter Text

It's the creepy dementor ghosts again – which Desmond really probably should've asked Aerith more about the previous day. What did she say about them – that they're some kind of… planetary defence? Yeah, he really should've asked more about them, because they definitely don't look all that defensive. They're whirling around a guy in a rather familiar looking get up of baggy dark trousers, a sleeveless turtleneck and big shoulder guards, only this one has black hair instead of blond, and there's no big-ass sword in sight.

"So, uh," Desmond starts to say, glancing at Aerith, who's frozen beside him, her eyes wide.

She blinks, coming to life. Then she lets out a terrible wounded noise and without a word rushes forward, towards the bloodied man and the ghosts whirling around him. Desmond startles and then hurries in after her, quickly getting his knife out – but it turns it's not really necessary.

The moment the Whispers notice Desmond, they veer away from their wounded victim, crying and wailing eerily as they flee, leaving behind a confused and clearly exhausted guy and Aerith, who barely seems to even notice.

"Zack!" she shouts, rushing forward, skidding down to her knees in front of him. "Zack, are you alright – here, I'll heal you –"

The guy looks at her, panting, blood in his face, and squints painfully. "Aerith?" he asks in a weak voice.

"Yes, yes! It's me, I'm here – you're here," she agrees, while rummaging around her wrist, checking her bulky bangle. "Oh no, where's my healing Materia, I could swear I had one, I didn't leave it at home, did I, oh –"

"I have it," Desmond says, quickly putting his knife away and taking the Materia out. "You forgot to take it back yesterday – here –"

The bloodied black-haired guy looks between them blearily, still breathing hard, his face looking a little pale under all the grime, his eyes watery. As Aerith fumbles to equip the Materia, he swallows, takes a breath, and says, "I made it? I made it. Aerith –"

"Hang on, Zack, I'll fix your right up –" Aerith says, squeezing her hand into a fist.

Zack eyes her with growing wonder as she's surrounded by a green glow, breathes out, "Hey, Aerith, I'm back," and then, just as she begins healing him, he passes out with a happy grin on his lips, faceplanting right into her lap.

"Oof," Aerith breathes out and then looks down at him with surprise. "Zack?"

The guy's out cold – and stays that way even as the spell washes over him, and the blood trickling on his face stops flowing.

"Um. I… guess you know the guy?" Desmond asks, crouching down beside her, looking between her and the guy. He's a big, beefy dude, completely covered in blood, sweat, dirt and grime. The cuts beneath the mess are quickly healing under Aerith's hands as she fires up another healing spell, but man, the dude looks like he's been through the wringer. It's… kinda nasty.

Aerith doesn't seem to care – she's carding shaking fingers through the guy's dirty hair. "Yeah – he's my boyfriend," she says in a distracted, shaky voice. "His name is Zack Fair."

Desmond's brows shoot up. "Boyfriend? You have a boyfriend?"

Aerith blinks, looking up at him. Her eyes are bright – she looks like she's on the verge of tears. "Why, are you jealous?" she asks, but it sounds like an automatic comeback.

"Just thought it would've come up by now," Desmond points out and glances around. "Seeing as he had the dementors all over him, I'm thinking there's a story here. Is he… um… alright?"

Aerith looks back down at unconscious Zack and rests her hand on the middle of his back, touching the guy like she's afraid he might disappear and she has to check he's real. "He will be," she says, letting out a little sniffle. "He must've been – oh no, he must've been fighting since the cliff. It's been – it's been days, maybe weeks, I don't know – has he been fighting the Whispers ever since then? Oh no!"

"Um," Desmond says, uncertain, eyes widening.

"He – he died, the first time around – and the second," Aerith says, her voice wavering. "He died trying to get to Midgar – he was just a little ways off when they ambushed and gunned him down. But – but last time, Cloud did something that changed the past, so while Zack died that time, he survived here – but the Whispers – he must've been fighting the Whispers ever since – and I didn't even realise –!"

"Hey, hey," Desmond says quickly as her voice breaks painfully. "It's not your fault, okay – we just got here, it's been really confusing couple of days, alright, you didn't know. He's here now, and he's going to be okay, right? He's going to be okay, and the Whispers are gone, and it's going to be alright."

Aerith draws a shaky breath. "Right," she agrees feebly. "The Whispers don't like you."

"That's right, they don't like me, which I'm trying hard not to take personally," Desmond babbles, placing a hand awkwardly on her back, rubbing it up and down in what he hopes is a soothing way. "I'll keep the spooky dementors away from your boyfriend, okay, you'll heal him, and it's going to be fine. Alright? Just take a deep breath…"

Aerith pulls herself together with a shuddering, wet-sounding inhale, and then nods. Then she turns her attention back to Zack, checking the guy over again, giving him another Cure. "I think that's the worst of it, he'll be alright now. But we should get him out of the open – he's a fugitive, if ShinRa finds out about him…"

Everybody's a fugitive here, huh. "Right," Desmond says, smothering a relieved sigh and patting her back. "Right – we'll take him to your house, then?"

Aerith shakes her head, easing out from under Zack while Desmond moves in to pick the guy up. "No, we'd have to go through the town, we'd never make it," she says. "The Church is closer – best we take him there."

"The Church?" Desmond asks and then lets out a grunt, trying to lift the dead weight of a man up and failing. "Jesus, what does this guy eat?"

"From what I remember, anything and everything you put in front of him," Aerith laughs a bit hysterically. "It's the thing with SOLDIERs, the enhancements they get – it makes them pretty heavy. That's how they're so strong, they pack a lot more muscle than you'd think, so they're pretty – pretty dense."

"This guy's a SOLDIER too?" Desmond asks, straining to lift Zack – and again failing. "Like Cloud?"

"Yep. SOLDIER First Class, best of the best," Aerith says, moving  to take Zack's other arm. "Here, let me –"

Between the two of them, they just barely manage to get the guy off the ground. It's awkward and slow going, dragging him along, and there's no talking as they go, neither of them have the breath for it. Zack is not a small guy, and he definitely doesn't get any lighter the further along they go – nor do they get any help from him. He's just a dead weight, the whole way.

Thankfully, they meet no monsters along the way, and the Whispers don't come back, and aside from a couple of stumbles and one fall, they make it through and to the promised Church – which is in about as good a shape as the rest of the buildings in Sector Five slums. Desmond gives its façade a curious look, wondering what they worship in this weird world, do they have a god here – or gods? Something else to ask about later.

It's a relief to get the guy inside the church and finally set him down on a relatively intact piece of floor beside a patch of flowers growing out where the floor isn't so intact.

"You've been here before, I see," Desmond comments, breathing hard, eyeing the flowers growing in a beam of light screening in through a very broken ceiling.

"Yeah – this is where I grew flowers intentionally – for the first time," Aerith agrees, gasping for a breath, leaning her hands on her knees. "Whoo-ey, Zack, what did they feed you in that lab – raw iron? I swear he didn't weigh this much before."

"Lab?" Desmond asks, stretching his shoulders while peering down on the guy. Zack is still out cold – and he's still got a goofy smile on his face too, which would probably look a bit more endearing if he wasn't covered in blood.

"Yeah – he was captured and experimented on by a mad scientist named Hojo – him and Cloud," Aerith agrees, breathing out a heavy sigh and straightening up. "It's a long, terrible story – they barely escaped. Last time, only Cloud made it, and it took him years to recover from what they did to him. Not sure he ever did, fully."

Desmond lets out a hiss through his teeth. "Human experimentation. Fuck, that sucks," he says and gives her a look. She still looks pretty shaken, and not just because of the exertion. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. It's just… some really bad memories, I guess," Aerith says quietly, kneeling down beside Zack to brush a strand of dirty hair from the guy's almost equally dirty face. "He looks terrible, doesn't he? Poor baby. Desmond, there's a sink in the back, it should have running water – could you get some? And see if there's some rags?"

Desmond looks between them and hums. There's a complicated look of wistful pain on her face. "Yeah, sure."

Giving Aerith some time alone with her long lost boyfriend, Desmond takes his time finding a bucket and some rags, cleaning the latter in the broken sink as much as he can before sitting back and folding his arms.

He'd had Zack's… ping, or whatever you could call it, the Eagle Sense of an important person. He'd had it in the back of his head all night – there are some half dozen of them, people who need help, people who are important. He'd been mostly going after the closest ones, because real life isn't like the Animus, it didn't have a pause button, so there was no telling if he could make it to the furthest ones before the closest ones… expired. So he'd been ignoring Zack's ping, because it had been… pretty far away from his location, and there were others in between.

Damn it. It would be nice if his sense had an order of urgency and personal significance, rather than giving everyone the same level of importance. Though then again, does he want Eagle Sense with personal bias…? Ugh.

Running a hand over his face, Desmond draws a breath and then releases it. And to think he'd wanted to take Aerith out to a fun session of stress-free side-questing to take her mind off things just for a bit, before he had to start asking some hard questions.

After he's more or less certain Aerith has had enough time to pull herself together, Desmond fills the bucket with water, takes the cleaner rags, and heads back.

She does look a little steadier now – she's using her shirt hem to clean Zack's face.

"Here – this will do you better," Desmond offers her one of the rags, and together they begin cleaning Zack up as much as they can. "You… wanna tell me about him?" Desmond asks carefully while wiping the guy's arm, checking the blood smears for wounds – nothing there, it's all healed up.

Aerith thinks about it, brushing Zack's hair back to clean what used to be a cut in his hairline. "You know what – I do. I really do."

It's a pretty cute story, up to the point where it stops being cute and starts being a tragedy. Aerith had met Zack when the guy fell through the church's roof right into her flowerbed, and then they'd wandered into a semi-typical young romance of dates and meetings and occasionally running away from Turks –

"Who are those, again?" Desmond asks, trying to remember – they'd been mentioned at some point, but…

"Spooks in suits who do ShinRa's dirty work," Aerith explains. "They check up on me sometimes, since I'm, you know… an important company asset on the loose."

"Ugh. Yeah, okay," Desmond says, thinking of the guys he'd met on top of the Plate after arriving. "Alright, please continue."

Zack, being a SOLDIER, was also in ShinRa's employ and part of their military. He'd joined their human enhancement program, he'd gone to war, he'd come back, he fought monsters, that sort of thing. The idea behind ShinRa military is supposedly about protecting their investments, maintaining security, guarding their workers and keeping peace… reality is apparently a bit more ruthless.

"ShinRa's all but conquered the whole Planet," Aerith explains quietly, wringing out the rag she's using. "It's really just Wutai left now, still holding onto their freedom, and that's only barely. Zack joined the SOLDIER program around the end of the war, thinking he'd be a hero, because that's how it was always displayed in the news, like they were the good guys. War heroes."

Desmond looks between her and the guy, and even without the guy's input, he can feel the pain there.

Aerith is quiet for a moment before continuing. "There are no heroes in ShinRa – their military is there just to make sure everyone stays in line, does what they're told – pays their bills," she says and shakes her head. "And SOLDIER… SOLDIER is the worst. And I think Zack got the worst of the worst – because while people he looked up to lost it, or ran, or... Zack stayed loyal."

Though Aerith doesn't know exactly what happened, point for point, she tells Desmond of the months leading up to Zack's disappearance, how she'd watched him grow harder and less happy, how she held him through nightmares, and how eventually he went into a mission in a distant village… and never made it back. And she'd been waiting ever since.

"There's more to it," Aerith says, wiping away a tear. "Sephiroth was involved, but – it's not my story to tell, and who knows, it might've changed. Zack didn't survive to make it here the first time around, so… I don't know. Things might be different. He's alive here."

"Hmm," Desmond answers, leaning back a little. That's worrisome on multiple levels – that her knowledge about the past and the future might be unreliable. But then again… so is everyone else's. "Well," he says. "All of that sucks, but… I'm happy for you? I'm glad your boyfriend is alive here, and I hope he stays that way. I can't wait to meet him."

Aerith beams at him and they settle down to wait for Zack to come to.

"It might take a while," Aerith admits, brushing a thumb under Zack's eye, where the skin is dark enough to look bruised. "I don't think he's gotten much sleep since coming back. Maybe not at all."

Desmond hums in agreement. Zack's all clean now – or as clean as they could get the guy without stripping him nude and throwing everything on him into a washer and him into a tub. It makes him look almost worse, in a way – the dirt hid really well how pale and clearly exhausted the guy is. Worse yet, he's clearly starved, and probably suffering from dehydration, too – the muscle definition of his arms is… kind of alarming.

"Better let him rest then," Desmond says, thinking back to how Cloud looked, trying to remember if the guy looked chronically underfed too. "Maybe we should get him some food and water while we wait?"

"That's – that's a really good idea, but," Aerith hesitates. "If we leave… the whispers might come back."

If Desmond left, she means – and she's not about to. "Right," Desmond says, pulling out his phone – PHS, whichever. "Let's see if I can get someone to deliver, then."

Aerith blinks at him. "Um?" she asks, looking between him and the PHS. "Where did you get that?"

"Girl named Suzz gave it to me after I punched her boyfriend in the dick," Desmond says, offering her a smile, and looks through the contacts he'd been making during the night. There's not that many of them, but there's a few – and he'd bet Dennis would know someone who could do a grocery run to the church for a bit of gil.

"You really didn't sit idle, huh?" Aerith asks, inching in closer to see what he's typing on the PHS. "You're really jockeying for Cloud's spot, aren't you?"

"Didn't know it was taken," Desmond admits and shrugs. "This is how all Brotherhoods begin – the good ones, anyway. Getting to know the locals, helping them around, getting a feel of what they need, making connections with local businesses. Assassin Brotherhood 101."

"… Assassin. So that's what the word was," Aerith murmurs. "You don't… mean it like… just killing people for pay, right? It means something else to you, Assassin – I remember it meaning a lot of things to you."

"It does, yeah," Desmond says and gives her a considering look. "Though we did kill people for pay, too, when it was for a good cause. Only bad people, though, people who abused, or took advantage, or controlled others. But mostly it means…" he hesitates, trying to think of how to put it. How did it echo in the Grey… "In my world, the Brotherhood was the safeguard of mankind's free will – fighting against people who would… control others. It was in our Creed – serving the light from the shadows. Doing nasty things for a good reason."

"Hmm," Aerith hums. "I guess sometimes you got to."

"There's more to it, but I guess there's more to a lot of things," Desmond muses and sends the message to Dennis. It doesn't take long to get an answer – Dennis promising to get in touch with the local café, to see if they had someone who felt confident about doing a delivery to the church. "Right. Food is maybe on the way."

"Sweet," Aerith says and looks back at Zack, still out cold. She's quiet for a moment before admitting, "I don't know what I'm going to do now."

"About Zack?" Desmond asks.

"About anything. He's alive. I don't know what that means," Aerith says and rocks back and forth, hugging her knees. "Last go around, we… killed the Arbiter of Fate, the WEAPON that's the source of the Whispers, and that let us do things we probably couldn't have done otherwise – but the Whispers are still around here, which means the Arbiter of Fate is too, except Zack is alive? And… and I don't know. I don't know what it means."

"If it means anything. Could be just things happening because other things happened. Cause and effect with no reason," Desmond offers. "But speaking of which – what exactly are the Whispers, again? The Arbiter of Fate? Weapon – what?"

"Oh, um… right, uh," Aerith clears her throat. "The Planet has her own defence mechanisms, like – like a global immunity system. They're called the WEAPONS, and whenever something endangers the Planet, they awaken from the depths in her defence. They did when Sephiroth used the Black Materia to summon the Meteor, they tried to stop it, but… ended up doing more harm than good, because they couldn't really tell friend from foe, and… anyway. The Arbiter of Fate is like them. It's the WEAPON that was designed to defend the timeline, to keep people from messing with it."

"Huh," Desmond says. "So the Whispers, they're… trying to stop time travel?"

"They're trying to keep the timeline the way it was originally," Aerith agrees and grimaces. "They don't do a very good job of it. They don't know the Planet is going to die, they don't know I'm trying to save it – all they know is that the timeline is being tampered with, and their job is to stop it, so…" she shrugs.

"And because Zack died originally, they were… trying to kill him?" Desmond asks. "Jeesh."

"Yeah. Like I said, they don't do a very good job at these things," Aerith says. "But I don't think they were designed for the level of tampering going on. And I think most of them, and the Arbiter itself, is busy trying to contain Sephiroth."

"O-kay, that's…  I'm not sure if that's good or bad," Desmond admits, making a face. "He's the world-ending bad guy, so… yay for the dementors containing him? But at the same time…"

Aerith lets out a feeble giggle. "Yeah," she agrees and gives him a smile. "Regretting coming here yet?"

Desmond snorts and shakes his head. "Nah. I think I'm getting the hang of this place," he says. There's still stuff to get used to, sure, and he still has so many questions, but… he thinks he's getting the hang of it. Few more days of side-questing wouldn't go amiss, maybe, and he definitely needs to make some more connections, but after that…  "I think I'll be just fine."

Aerith hums and then smiles. "You know what, I think so too," she agrees and reaches to poke at his cheek. "I'm glad you're here. Even if it's taking so much effort to catch you up on things."

"I've got a lot to catch up on, okay, I'm sorry, I'm not from around here," Desmond says, swatting at her hand lightly. "Your world is weird as hell, you know."

"Seems perfectly normal to me," she says and looks at Zack. "Some… inconsistencies aside."

"Lady, you have no idea," Desmond says with a laugh, shaking his head, and looks at Zack. "By the way," he says slowly. "You said Zack escaped his lab captivity with –"

There's a sudden crash coming from above, something meeting roof tiles and wood and going right through both. Desmond and Aerith have only enough time to look up as whatever it is comes crashing down through the ceiling beams above, slamming into the flowerbed hard enough to make the whole church shudder – landing right beside Zack with a solid thud.

Desmond and Aerith stare, surprised, as flower petals thrown into the air slowly float down and they find Cloud Strife suddenly lying there, in their midst, completely unconscious.

Chapter Text

"Oh, hey there. Been a while, huh? How have you been – you get through alright? Looks like you did. Holding strong, I hope? I see you got yourself a new sword. What, the Buster Sword wasn't good enough for you, huh? Exchanged for a newer model, tsk. I see where we rate.

"Nah, I'm kidding, it's alright. It looks good, this new sword. Not bad. What did you do with the old girl? Hope you didn't lose it, it's a pretty important sword to me. Has history, that sword. Lots of memories attached. It might be just a clunky piece of metal to you, and I get that, it's kinda unwieldy, but to me… to be it represents honour. And honour can be unwieldy, sometimes. I think it should be, really – if it was easy, then…

"Ah well. It's fine if you lost it. It's just a sword. The important thing is that you're alive and okay. You are okay, right? Hmm?

"I think you should probably get up now. How about it? We doing this or not?

"Cloud?"

Cloud's brow furrows, and he thinks, nonsensically, huh, so that's what my name is. He tries to move, but nothing does – is like his body is carved from stone, everything is completely still, his mind trapped behind closed eyelids, too heavy to lift.

Somewhere behind him, there's a village on fire.

"I get it. It's hard," the voice – it sounds like his own – hums. "Standing up for yourself is hard. Standing up for others, that's easy, you know? Selfless things are easy. Being strong just for yourself, though, oof, that's a toughie. Unless you're an asshole, I suppose, then it becomes easy. But you're not like that, are you?"

Cloud hums back. "I am. Sometimes."

The voice laughs. "I'll believe it when I see it," he says. "You, acting all cool, hah. That's great. Think you can get up now, Mr. Asshole?"

Cloud tries and then blows out a breath.

"It's okay," the voice says, gentler. "You're not alone. Just move something, anything."

"... Okay. Why not."

-

The first thing he sees is light, shining through the broken rafters of a busted up ceiling. The second thing he sees is something white sticking out in the upper corners of his vision, triangular shape hanging over his eyes. At first Cloud thinks, hair, and the thought fills him with sudden panic – but then he smells them, and feels them around his head.

Flowers. There are flowers in his hair. There are also voices, speaking close by. Quickly closing his eyes again, Cloud tries to lie as naturally still as he can, as he listens.

"... Think it's enough or should we get some more?" a male voice, somewhat familiar, asks. "We weren't expecting the gatecrasher, after all. Or ceiling-crasher, in this case. Roofcrasher?"

"Hmm, I think it's fine to start with," about equally as familiar female voice answers. "From what I remember, he's not much of an eater. Was always like pulling teeth, to get him to eat enough."

It takes effort not to frown. She's talking like she knows him, but Cloud's pretty sure… maybe she's talking about someone else?

"Huh," the male voice says, thoughtful. "How do you maintain musculature like that without eating?"

"That's the thing with SOLDIERs. They don't have to maintain, I don't think. Because of all of the Mako enhancements, you know."

Yeah, they're probably talking about Cloud. And he has a feeling he knows these two too – it's the confusing pair of cousins he met after the Reactor 1 explosion – Desmond and, uh, Aerith? They'd seemed weirdly perceptive the last time he'd seen them, eerily so, even, but this… Aerith is talking like she knows him – knows things about SOLDIER that shouldn't be common knowledge.

Though the bit about SOLDIER not having to maintain, that's… that's new for Cloud. Weird. Well, he'd joined SOLDIER at a pretty weird time, maybe… maybe his training had been flawed. Not that he remembers much about his training anyway. It was a while ago and doesn't really matter anymore.

Still, how does she know so much – and stuff he doesn't?

Desmond clears his throat. "... Right, enhancements. Cool. Not the not eating enough part, that's not cool. Actually, are the enhancements that cool either? Is anything about this cool? Poor choice of words. Sorry."

"Them being alive is very cool," Aerith points out with a firm sort of cheerfulness.

"Yeah, that's definitely a positive," Desmond says with a laugh, and then hums. "Wait, if they don't have to maintain at all, and the muscles are just, like, there forever… does that mean they're going to be super buff even in their old age?"

Now that's an… unsettling thought.

Aerith lets out a thoughtful noise."You know what, I don't know. None of them ever lived long enough for that, I guess."

Yeah...

There's a sympathetic noise from Desmond. "Okay, wow, that's sad. Also, Cloud's awake."

Shit. Trying to play it cool, Cloud eases his eyes open, and, sure enough, it's Aerith and Desmond. They're sitting on the floor beside him, digging into a pair of grocery bags, looking at him.

"Good, uh, evening, sleepy head!" Aerith says, waving at him and smiling brightly. "How are you feeling?"

"... Fine," Cloud says, even though he really doesn't. Lying down he could ignore it, for the most part, but as he moves to sit up, the full consequences of the fall he took make themselves known. His whole body feels like one big bruise. "What – how did I get here?"

"Came in  through the roof," Desmond says, pointing upwards. "Just, wham, right into the flowerbed. Apparently you fell off the Plate."

Yeah, sounds about right, Cloud thinks and then sits up with a bitten off groan. Judging by the feel of it, he probably fell on his back. "How long was I out?" he asks.

"Just about an hour," Aerith says with a sympathetic smile. "Are you hungry? Desmond got us something to eat. Come see if there's something you like."

Cloud stands up, though it's more stumbling to his feet than actually standing up. He almost falls over another body on the floor and for a moment panics, thinking Tifa might've jumped in after him – but thankfully it's someone else. A black-haired guy in – in –

We're friends, right?

Wincing hard enough to almost fall to his knees, Cloud clutches to his forehead, feeling that icy lance of pain again. Behind his eyelids there's fire, there's blurry green pain – there's Sephiroth, smirking –

A truck, and a man sitting beside him, smiling with the sort of hope and relief that makes it look a lot like pain –

"Hey," a hand on his cheek and face in front of his eyes, someone else's. "Take a deep breath."

Cloud flinches away and just barely avoids stumbling over the SOLDIER in the floor. "I'm fine," he says automatically, and just barely keeps himself from slapping Aerith's hand, backing away instead. "And I'm not hungry, thanks."

"Oh, you never are, even when you're starving," Aerith says with a weird, fond sort of sadness.

Cloud scowls, glancing down at the guy lying unconscious on the floor and then looking away, when it threatens to drive that spike of pain into his brain again. "What do you know about me?" he demands, confused. "You don't even know who I am."

"I have a pretty good idea," the woman says, amused. "Right now you're the man who fell through the roof, though. So you should probably sit down and take it easy for a moment."

"I don't –"

"Here, Cloud," Desmond, sitting on the floor says, something in his hold. "Catch."

Cloud catches the bottle automatically and then gives it a scowl. It's a protein smoothie in a brown bottle, boasting that it tastes like chocolate.

"Seems like up your alley," the guy says and looks away, turning back to the groceries. "Aerith, come tell me what these are? Is this alcohol – because I really could use a drink…"

Cloud frowns as the woman hesitates and then moves to join her cousin – leaving Cloud blessedly alone. She peers into the bags and lets out a laugh. "Oh, those are just potions."

"Potions," the guy says, pulling out a six-pack of bottles, stamped with ShinRa medical department logo. "And what is a potion?"

"It's medicine, silly. It's like a Cure, but in a bottle."

"... okay, why does medicine come in a six pack?"

Feeling left off-balance by the way he's suddenly being ignored – relieved but weird, since usually getting people to leave him alone is a pain – Cloud looks at the protein shake and then decides, what the hell, gives it a quick shake and then opens it.

It does not taste like chocolate. Mostly it tastes like lumpy, wet chalk. But once it makes it into his stomach, it's like a switch being flicked, and Cloud realises he is a bit hungry, after all. Maybe more than a bit.

Actually, he's not sure what he's last eaten. Or when.

"If you want more, there's some meal bars and stuff in here," Desmond says without looking up, rummaging through the groceries. "Some more shakes, a packet of cookies, chips – stuff like that. And apparently a six pack of drugs."

"Potions aren't drugs," Aerith laughs.

"You just said they're medicine."

"Yeah, but they're not drugs – it's made from diluted Mako."

Desmond gives her a look. "Do I even want to know how that's supposed to make it better?"

"It's basically condensed Lifestream, de-condensed," Aerith explains. "And since everything that's alive comes from Lifestream, consuming it revitalises and rejuvenates – and heals injuries."

For a moment Desmond just stares at Aerith while Cloud drains the protein shake, giving them both a weirded out look. Then Desmond shakes his head. "Yeah, alright, sure," he says with a sigh. "You want any of this, Cloud?"

"I could take a meal bar," Cloud answers, suspiciously. "Did you steal that stuff?"

"No, I paid for it. I just don't know what I paid for, exactly," Desmond mutters, taking out a packet of granola bars and tearing it open. "Didn't know magical healing potions are part of everyday groceries, but I guess that just shows what I know…"

Cloud catches the granola bar as Desmond tosses it over – followed in quick succession with two more. "... Thanks," Cloud says, still a bit weirded out, but feeling a little less on edge. Opening the first bar, he glances down to the unconscious guy and then away. "So, who's he – did he fall in after me?"

Aerith startles and gives him a wide-eyed, stricken look, while Desmond glances at him, frowning.

"He's, ah – no, we found him a bit ways from here," Aerith says, wringing her hands. "He's my boyfriend. He – was attacked by monsters."

"He's a SOLDIER," Cloud says with absolute certainty – he doesn't even need to see the guy's eyes to know that.

"Yeah," Aerith agrees. "Ex-SOLDIER, like you. His name is Zack Fair. Do you… know him?"

Cloud closes his eyes against pain, spiking again just at the sound of the name. Fuck, maybe he'd taken the fall harder than he'd realised, maybe he'd – "Can't say it rings any bells," he mutters, lifting a hand and rubbing his eyes. When had he told her he was ex-SOLDIER…?

"Hey, are you –"

"You know, it's pretty bright in here," Desmond says, interrupting Aerith. "Why don't you go sit in the shadow there, Cloud? Might help with the migraine."

While Aerith stops in the middle of getting up, giving Desmond a confused look, Cloud nods quickly. "Yeah, I'll just – do that," he says and heads behind one of the stone pillars, where the air is a little bit cooler, and the sun isn't in his eyes. Behind him, from the corner of his eyes, he can see Desmond giving Aerith a gentle shake of his head, motioning her to sit back down.

What the hell, Cloud thinks, leaning into the blessedly cool pillar, suddenly feeling almost feverish. What the hell is wrong with him, and why – and Cloud's supposed to know him? He can't even look at the guy. Zack?

Rubbing at his forehead and then pinching the bridge of his nose, hoping to stave the headache off, Cloud slides down the pillar, and tries not to think at all.

"Um," Aerith says, her voice uncertain.

"So, potions," Desmond says. "What do people need you to grow mystic herbs and stuff for, if you can just pack a healing spell into a bottle?"

"Oh, um. Well, I think it's, like… potions and magic help your body heal itself naturally, if it's something you could heal from naturally, given time. Cuts and scrapes and stuff like that, that's easy – but if you have a chronic condition, or your joints start aching because of aging, potion can't fix that, because your own body can't fix that…"

Cloud lets their chatter wash over him, relaxing a little when it becomes obvious they aren't about to ask for his input. It lets him gather himself and push through the headache – it gets a little better after a few minutes, and eventually he opens another granola bar to eat, chewing it slowly while listening to Aerith talk about potions and the Lifestream.

She'd fit right in with Avalanche, he thinks. She talks about the Lifestream being the lifeblood of the planet and people like it's a fact and not a radical belief. Just everyday boring old fact of life. Barrett would just love her.

"It's all a circle, you see. We come from the Lifestream and we return to the Lifestream," Aerith says. "So, in a way, what's in potions is already in every living thing, and that's why it works."

"Soylent green is people, huh," Desmond says with a snort. "Alright, I get the logic – but that just makes it weirder. Grocery stores just sell life juice in a bottle. No biggie. I guess."

"You get hung up on the weirdest things, you know that?"

"When I asked for a six-pack, I was expecting beer, alright?"

Wondering if he should invite Desmond and Aerith to Seventh Heaven, it seems right up their alley, Cloud finishes his second granola bar, feeling a bit more like a person again. Crumpling the wrapper, Cloud glances over his shoulder to the guy on the floor again. Considering him, Desmond and Aerith are probably not about to go anywhere, so… probably best not to bother.

He should go, though. Should get back, to make sure Tifa and Barrett got out alright, that they made it. He should…

Just a scraped knee. It'll be alright.

There it is again.

"Is he alright?" Cloud asks before he can think twice.

"Zack? Yeah, I think so – he's just tired," Aerith says. "I healed him the best I could, but there's no cure for exhaustion."

"I have smelling salts, if you want them," Cloud offers, with an odd niggling of guilt, for some reason.

Aerith lets out a painted chuckle. "Well, that would wake him, sure, but it wouldn't fix the fact that he hasn't been sleeping in days," she says. "Best let him just sleep it off – while he can."

What's that supposed to mean?

Cloud frowns, glancing towards her and Desmond. Aerith is eyeing Zack with a pained fondness, reaching out to smooth a hand over his forehead. Desmond is eyeing the door.

"We're about to have company," he comments, the easygoing tone of his voice hardening. "And they're not friendly."

"Hm? Oh, I guess it's about time," Aerith says and sighs. "It's the Turks – they're here to kidnap me."

"Um, what?" Desmond asks flatly while Cloud quickly jumps to his feet. "Why didn't you – should we skedaddle?"

"But Zack," Aerith says, uncertain, as she's being pulled to her feet by Desmond. "We kind of proved we can't carry him –"

You can pay me back later, alright? I pick you up when you need it, and then you return the favour when I need it. It's what friends do.

Cloud winces, shakes it off and then rounds the pillar. "I can carry him."

Ignoring the looks thrown at him, Cloud walks up to Zack, takes off his sword, crouches down, and picks his fellow SOLDIER up. Zack's neither small, nor light, and Cloud feels his weight in his core – but it's a weight he finds himself surprisingly glad to bear.  With Zack on his shoulders and the Iron Blade in hand, Cloud turns. "Right – where to?"

"Uh – right through there," Aerith points to a set of doors while Desmond picks up the grocery bags. "I think we gotta –"

Cloud turns, and several things happen very fast. Firstly, the church doors are thrown – or maybe kicked – open with a cheerful, "I'll just show myself in!" In that moment, Desmond spins, winding his arm – and the bag of groceries he's holding – all the way back, before hurtling the bag right at the newcomers.

The bag is met by a stun baton and explodes in the Turk's face, sending him tumbling out of the church with an alarmed yelp.

"Right," Desmond says, straightening his hoodie, before grabbing Aerith's hand with one hand and holding the remaining bag in the other. Then he grins widely. "Let's run."

They run out of the church hall, Desmond stopping to bar the door behind them while Cloud looks for an exit. There's no windows in the room, just staircases leading up, but if this chamber is like the main church hall, then the roof…

"Going up?" Cloud asks, carefully keeping his sword from hitting the floor while holding Zack's legs with his other hand.

"I guess we are," Aerith says and peers up. "Desmond –"

"I'll find you a way up," the guy promises, handing her the bag, saying, "Hold onto that," and then, without further ado, begins scaling the walls like gravity isn't even a thing.

Outside, the Turk and whoever's with him – infantry, it sounds like – have broken into the church and are already banging on to the door. "Princess, I know you're in there! Come on out, we just want to talk!"

"A bit busy, come back later!" Aerith answers cheerfully, while above them Desmond points the way.

"You know Turks?" Cloud asks suspiciously as they head up the stairs.

"Oh, they come around," Aerith says, wincing. "I really wish they didn't."

Cloud eyes her. "Let me guess, they get in the way and are bothersome?"

"Yes, exactly," she agrees and looks up to Desmond, who's watching them from the next level. "Which way now?"

"Left," the guy answers, peering down. "You know, I could probably kill the guy leading them – might send the others running."

"Please don't – he's kind of on our side, one day… maybe," Aerith says, wincing.

"Fine," Desmond says, shaking his head. "There's a ladder coming up ahead, Cloud – can you manage?" 

"Guess we'll find out," Cloud grunts and they keep going, listening to the noise of the banging coming from below.

They're some halfway through to the top when the door below is finally broken and infantry soldiers stream in, led by an irritated redhead in a suit. "Aerith!" he calls. "Stop being difficult and come down – we just want to have a little chat."

"A chat – you brought half an army for a chat?" Aerith calls back. "Some chat!"

"The more the merrier, am I right? From what we heard, you made a friend too. Someone you call your cousin?"

"Uh-oh," Aerith murmurs, clutching to the grocery bag and making a face, while above them Desmond quietly pulls his hood up and then down to hang over his face.

"All these things going on these days, bombings and terrorists, oh my," the Turk calls up while motioning the infantry members to move forward. "You know you can't really trust anyone these days, they'll say all kinds of things to get into pretty girl's pants –"

"If you think claiming to be someone's cousin is a come on, Reno, then you really need to fix your dating life, geez!" Aerith calls down, making more face.

"So why is this guy claiming that, then, hmm?" Reno asks. "And does your mom know about your fake cousin?"

"They're getting closer," Cloud says quietly, lifting Zack a bit more securely on his shoulders. The infantry soldiers are crowding the stairs below, and they're picking up the pace. "We gotta move."

"This way, not far now, just gotta cross over the gap there and you're home free," Desmond motions and then glances up. "I think I could slow them down a bit."

"Aerith?" Reno calls. "Answer me!"

"Or what?" Aerith answers, while they scurry along the outer edge of a half broken staircase, watching Desmond make a rather suicidal leap onto a heavy-looking chandelier hanging above them.

"Or I come up there and make you!"

"Oh yeah, you and what army?" Aerith answers and then pauses – there's a plank ahead of them, crossing over a broken bit of floor. "Um," she says, glancing at Cloud and Zack. "Do you think…?

"That might not hold both our weights," Cloud agrees, shaking his head. "You go ahead – I'll do a running leap –"

"Stop or we'll shoot!" one of the infantry members shouts.

"You will not," Reno snaps back. 

Just then the chandelier drops past Cloud and Aerith, crashing down and into a group of infantry soldiers below, sending them to the ground in a cacophony of painted grunts. Desmond, hanging from the ceiling now, grins and clambers away.

"Go, go," Cloud says to Aerith, who swallows, takes a deep breath, hugs the bag, and then runs over the plank. Under her feet, the wood rattles and bounces, and the moment she makes it to the other side, the thing comes loose and falls into the gap.

Just as well he decided to jump, then, Cloud muses and backs away to take as much of a running start as he can before sprinting forward as fast as he can. The gap isn't that long, he's made bigger jumps with ease... but not while carrying another SOLDIER.

His feet barely make it to the other side – there he teeters on the very edge, on the verge of falling backwards and into the gap. Aerith grabs for him with a desperate shout of "Cloud!", but she's not strong enough, her grip on his suspenders is awkward –

They begin falling backwards, all three of them.

Cloud tries to reach for something, anything. There is a baluster beside them, a wooden pillar – both out of reach. Behind him there's nothing, nothing to launch from – maybe he could use his sword to –

Then there's Desmond, running like a cat on a broken baluster – he leaps, spins around a pillar just beside them then doesn't so much push Cloud as he kicks him forward, and onto the solid floor.

"... is that a fucking ninja?!" comes from below.

Desmond lands on the edge of the gap. "You alright?" he asks, breathing hard, while Cloud just barely manages to find his balance. Aerith fails completely and lands on her ass with an oomph. Cloud hesitates, straightening up under his burden and casting a look down – the Turk is coming up the stairs now and he's coming up fast. There's no time.

Cloud looks at Desmond, and the guy seems to get it immediately – he steps forward, scoops both Aerith and the grocery bag off the floor and into his arms. Cloud grips his sword with one hand and Zack with the other, and nods.

Together, they run.

Chapter Text

Crouching on the edge of the scaffolding high above the others, Desmond peers into the surrounding area, specifically the way they'd come over the rooftops. Eagle Vision shows him safe spots and dangerous spots, marking out all the monsters and a couple of people in the area – he can even sort of see the path he'd taken through the junkyard. In the distance there's a lot of red spots of enemies, spreading out in the rubble, but for now…

"I think we've lost them," he reports, sliding down a pipe to where Aerith is checking Zack over and Cloud is scanning the surroundings suspiciously. "They're raking the area behind us though, and there's a lot of them, so we might want to keep on moving, just in case."

"Hmm," Aerith hums, brushing Zack's hair back. "Trying to think of where we should go… I mean, I could take Zack home, buut… that will be the first place they'll look."

"They know where you live?" Cloud asks, scowling.

"Like I said, they come around," Aerith sighs and looks up to them. "They've been keeping tabs on me since I was a little girl – usually they let me be, but… things are changing."

Desmond rocks back and forth on his feet. Because now she's an adult and can do actual ancient magic. Or because the end of the world's coming up? "Does me being here make it better – or worse?" he had not missed the fact that the redhead knew about him.

"Oh, worse, definitely worse," Aerith grins. "Wouldn't have it any other way, though."

Cloud looks between them, uneasy. "The Turk called you a princess," he says slowly and makes a face. "And they're keeping tabs – are you like…?"

Aerith looks at him, smiling brighter. "Like a what?" she asks, wide-eyed.

"… You know what, I don't want to know," the guy decides, shaking his head and looking away. "What's our next move, then? Hide out here?"

"A bit insecure," Desmond comments. "I'd like to not be this much in the open."

"Same," Cloud agrees and folds his arms. "And I got places to be."

Aerith thinks about it. "Well, the train won't be running, what with Mako Reactor 5 being offline and all," she says. "We can't go home, we probably shouldn't go to the town, either, it will be crawling with ShinRa people looking for us, and that'll be where Rude will head first…"

"Rude?" Desmond asks.

"Reno's partner," Aerith explains. "They always work together – Reno rustles up the quarry and Rude sets a trap to capture them. He'll be waiting for us in town, probably."

"… great, so, not going to town, then," Desmond says while Cloud runs a hand over his face. "Any other place we could go to, then?"

"I guess the construction site might be safe?" Aerith muses and stands up, brushing her dress clean. "It's abandoned, a bit out of the way, and crawling with monsters, so no one ever goes in there, but between us three, I bet we could handle it. I think we can lay low there, for a while."

"Right," Cloud says and crouches down to pick Zack up again. There's that expression on his face, like he's on a verge of some sort of breakthrough – or a breakdown – and is trying really hard to stifle it. "Lead the way."

Desmond shares a look with Aerith, and she shrugs, her expression somewhere between hopeful and painful. Desmond pats her shoulder and then gives her a gentle push, and she shows them the way.

Zack's still unconscious when they make it to the building site, Cloud is still scowling with concentration of a man trying to keep things under wraps, and Aerith is teetering on the edge of happiness and tears. Desmond, out of respect to the sheer level of suppressed emotional trauma here, tries not to get distracted by the building site. Because damn – and he thought the general junkyard was bad.

There's construction machinery and materials just lying around, sitting out in the open, completely unguarded, abandoned.

"They were building something here," Aerith explains as they walk past perfectly good looking bulldozers and cranes and trucks, and crates upon crates of materials. "I don't know what, exactly. I suppose it doesn't matter – it was left unfinished."

"And no one picked up the stuff here?" Desmond asks, setting the grocery bag down in order to investigate one of the crates.

Aerith shrugs. "Guess it wasn't worth the effort?" she muses. "There's a bunch of projects like these all over the slums, you know – spots where ShinRa once tried to make something and then just gave up. I guess the profits weren't as good as they'd hoped, or the monsters got too much."

"Geez," Desmond mutters, while peering under a pristine tarpaulin covering a crate. There are sacks of unused concrete there. Damn. There are some sacks of the stuff lying around on the ground, but it's been hardened and ruined – these ones are still usable. Yeah. "I'm calling dibs."

"On the… sand bags?" Aerith asks.

"Yep. I'm calling dibs on the sand bags," Desmond grins and tucks the tarp back over the concrete. "Also on all the machinery. And the materials. If no one else's using them, I'm calling dibs."

"I don't think it works like that," Cloud says wryly. "Even if ShinRa's no longer doing stuff here, it's still ShinRa's stuff. They won't sit idle while you pilfer machinery from them."

"What, are you going to report me, Mr. Eco-Terrorist?" Desmond snorts, picking up the bag again.

Cloud scowls at him suspiciously, his fingers tightening on his sword handle.

"Heads up," Aerith calls. "Monsters."

Desmond makes a face, puts the bag back down, pulls out his knife and turns to look ahead – there's a couple of the shrimp monsters clustering on the path up ahead, and something else, a red… creature with spikes all over, hopping around. That's new. And weird. But then again, most of everything here is.

Beside him, Cloud sets Zack down to lean against a crate and then grabs his sword in both hands. "This won't take long."

"Ooh, so cool," Aerith says, while grabbing a metal pole from the side and giving it a spin. "Let's see what you can do then, Mr. Eco-Terrorist."

"Don't call me that," Cloud grunts, and then rushes forward.

Desmond keeps an eye on him while distractedly dealing away with one of the shrimp things – he's gotten the pattern of how they attack and how to kill them quickly down now. Cloud is not very subtle with the sword – the thing is massive – but he doesn't really need to be. The sheer mass of the thing would probably be more than enough to deal with the monsters – but the thing is, Cloud has skill with it, too. You'd think a sword that massive would be dragging the guy along while it went wherever gravity led it, but no. Cloud's not just swinging it wildly and hoping for the best, he's got a form.

… Okay, it's mostly that he's just guiding the weight around, it's not exactly precision fencing, but he's definitely hitting where he means to. And the many swordsmen in Desmond can definitely appreciate the strength Cloud exhibits in managing a blade that size.

Cloud jumps, swings down hard, there's a flash of light as he uses some skill, probably… and that's that for the spiky bouncy red thing. And he doesn't even look mildly winded, as he swings the blade around and jumps forward to deal with the rest of the shrimp things – making pretty short work of them, too.

"Wow," Desmond says, quiet.

"I know, right?" Aerith agrees. "That's SOLDIER for you."

"Know a lot about SOLDIERs, do you?" Cloud asks, turning back to them, switching his sword to one-handed hold again.

"More than I'd like," Aerith says and leans onto the metal pole she'd grabbed. "There will be more where those came from," she nods to the greenish flickers, dispersing in Cloud's wake. "This place is crawling with them."

"Sure it's safe to hide here, then?" Desmond asks, collecting the groceries once more, while Cloud goes to pick Zack up again, his expression pinched.

"I think it will be alright – after we clear away the monsters," Aerith muses. "We can find a safe place for Zack and then clear the main area out – shouldn't take too long."

It does take a good while, though. The construction area isn't small, and there's a lot of critters around, crawling out of shadows whenever they get closer. Cloud deals away with most of them without breaking a sweat, and he probably would've been fine handling the rest by himself too, but Desmond and Aerith pitch in where they can manage it before Cloud's already through their enemies. The guy is… pretty damn efficient in monster-slaying, and more than once Desmond finds himself just hanging back to watch. Because damn.

What a show.

Desmond's also kind of intentionally holding back, not wanting to accidentally call up his ancestors. He's not really sure how common that kind of ability is and whether it marks him out as something different from most people, so… he'd rather err on the side of caution and just use his knives and leave the flashy stuff to Cloud. The guy seems to be more and able to handle things, anyway.

And then Aerith, from nowhere, casts a magic spell ward… thing and then blasts one of the enemies with a floating crystal cluster.

"Um," Desmond says, casting her a look, as she absolutely nails one of the crawling critters with the sharp, spinning crystals.

"What, did you think you were the only one who could use special tricks in battle?" she asks cheekily, while Cloud barely even bats an eye on them, his attention on another critter. "You should see me on a higher level."

"Oh?" Desmond asks, interested.

"Oh yeah," Aerith grins, spinning her make-do staff and sending some more magic bolts into their enemies, all but dancing in the battlefield with magic and power flaring up around her. "This is nothing – wait until I get some proper weapons and Materia, and then you can be impressed."

"Less chatter, more monster slaying," Cloud says, rushing back past them. "We're almost done here."

"Yes, sir," Desmond says, and gives Aerith a look. "I'm already impressed, by the way. Can you do more than that?"

"Watch and learn," Aerith says, and spins up a magic ward – and then begins casting offensive spells.

Yeah, the monsters don't stand much of a chance.

With the monsters dealt with, Desmond scouts out the area a bit more and finds an abandoned building site office, which is basically a shipping crate that's got windows, a door, and tables and chairs inside, and not much else. There's a raggedy couch there, though, where Cloud sets down still unconscious Zack, straightening out the guy's legs.

"Deep sleeper," he comments, while Desmond tests whether the office has any power – and shockingly, it does.

"Not usually," Aerith comments, sitting beside Zack on the couch. "Out of… curiosity, when did you come to Midgar, Cloud?"

The blond man casts her a suspicious look. "Few weeks back, I guess?" he says warily. "Why?"

Aerith winces and Desmond casts her – and Zack – a sympathetic look. "No reason," she says, resting her hand over Zack's chest and making a pained face.

Cloud steps back, glancing at Desmond and then folding his arms. "I'm starting to get a bit sick of that," he says, annoyed. "All the deflection. You two know things, clearly. And he's –" he stops, looking at Zack, his jaw flexing as he grits his teeth. "Just, who are you people? It's like you know …" he trails away, like it's too uncomfortable to say.

"It's… a long story," Aerith says, sighing.

"Well, since the trains apparently aren't running and we've got to hide from Turks for a while, looks like we got the time," Cloud says, scoffing. "So spill it."

Aerith hesitates, biting her lip, and Cloud turns to Desmond – who lifts his hands. "Don't look at me – I just got here," he says. "Though – give her a break too, please. It's been… hell of a couple of days."

"And then some," Aerith murmurs and looks up at Cloud, resting her hands in her lap. "I suppose I should, though. Um…" she fiddles with her fingers. "I'm not sure how to say it, though. Or where to begin."

"How about the start? That usually works," Cloud scoffs.

Aerith lets out a little hapless giggle at that. "Alright. In the beginning, ShinRa hired some scientists to figure out the mysteries of the Ancients – "

Cloud groans and makes a face. "Okay, not that kind of start –"

"I'm an Ancient," Aerith explains quickly. "And the SOLDIER program was based on what ShinRa thought was an Ancient, but wasn't. And you and Zack were part of the experiments."

Cloud stops at that.

"Later experiments," Aerith winces and looks down at Zack. "So, you know. It's a long story, and you – you don't remember… do you, Cloud?"

Feeling a bit like a third wheel, Desmond leans his shoulder against the metal walls of the office, watching confusion race over Cloud's pretty face, watching his eyes flicker as he searches Aerith's expression for falsehoods – as he hesitates. The guy has bright eyes, glowing eyes, and they hide nothing about his emotions – it all just shines through.

"What?" Cloud demands. "What am I supposed to remember?"

"Last four years?" Aerith suggests. "Where have you been, Cloud – do you remember what happened years ago, two years, three – four? Do you remember what happened in Nibelheim?"

Cloud's eyes widen – and then the headache visibly hits him again. He winces, his eyes squeeze shut and he grabs at his head, wavering where he stands, whole body tense – it makes Aerith quickly reach for him and Desmond wince in sympathetic pain. It had been happening on and off to the guy ever since he woke up – only this time it doesn't pass quite so quickly.

"S-Sephiroth –" Cloud grunts and almost falls to his knees.

Aerith reaches to touch Cloud, then hesitates and looks to Desmond – she'd finally picked up on the guy's touch aversion, then. Desmond glances around and then drags a chair forward, pushing it behind Cloud. "Come on, sit down, Cloud," he says, and Aerith gives Cloud a gentle little push, and the guy collapses on the chair. Then they watch helplessly and wait for Cloud to get it together again.

It takes a while, and once the attack passes, Cloud's eyes are even brighter – glistening with pained tears. "W-what?" he chokes out. "How do you – how do you know –?"

"That's an… even longer story," Aerith says heavily, sitting back beside Zack. "And I'm… not sure how much I can or should tell you, because – because I'm not sure you can take it – "

"I can take it," Cloud snarls through the pain.

She shakes her head, swallowing. "You couldn't, last time. You went catatonic for weeks, your mind broke, and it took Tifa a long time to piece it back together," Aerith says, wringing her hands. "And we can't afford for you to lose it right now."

That makes the guy recoil. "What – when? When did that happen – Tifa didn't tell me anything – "

"It hasn't happened yet – but it might," Aerith says and makes a face. "I shouldn't have said that, damn it. It's complicated," she says, earnest and desperate. "I don't know how to do this safely," she admits and looks up at Desmond helplessly. "There's so much. "

It's not like Desmond knows any better – he's got the feeling he hasn't figured out even a quarter of the stuff going on. The thing with Cloud, Zack and Sephiroth, that was still mostly a mystery to him, aside from the snippets Aerith had managed to convey. But… he does know something about scrambled brains, if nothing else.

"Right," he says and goes to take Aerith's hand – to give her that much support, at least. "How about we take this in small chunks, the smallest manageable bits," he suggests. "Starting with something – something safe? And go from there."

Aerith takes a slow breath and nods. "Um, okay, uh," she thinks about it. "Okay – my name is Aerith Gainsborough, I'm an Ancient," she says to Cloud. "ShinRa captured me and my mother when I was really young – she died getting me out of there. I've been living in Sector Five ever since – that's why the Turks are after me."

If that's small and safe, then they're in for one hell of a rollercoaster, Desmond thinks to himself, but squeezes her hand in support.

"Right," Cloud says, slow and kind of sarcastic. "Sure."

"Mm-hmm," Aertith agrees and grips Desmond's hand back. "And you are Cloud Strife, you were born in Nibelheim, came to Midgar when you were fourteen and joined ShinRa infantry." That makes the guy frown, but he doesn't say anything, and Aerith continues, "And he," she says, turning to Zack. "Is Zack Fair, he's from Gongaga, he joined the SOLDIER program when he was sixteen – he's the last SOLDIER First Class."

Cloud shakes his head at that slowly. "No, that's not – that –" he stops, wincing. "That can't be."

"It's true," Aerith says, reaching out with her free hand to touch Zack's face. "There's only ever been four of them, you know. Zack was the last to get promoted. According to ShinRa, he went missing four years ago, on a mission in a little mountain village in the western continent called Nibelheim. There was him, another SOLDIER First Class named Sephiroth… and…" she trails away, pointedly.

Cloud shakes his head again, but this time it's like he's trying to clear it. "No," he says. "No –"

Desmond squeezes Aerith's hand gently. "Something a bit easier," he murmurs.

Aerith draws a breath. "Okay, okay. Um," she thinks again, searching her memories. "Tifa told me once that – no, that's not it," she stops and blows out a breath. "Zack, he used to tell me stories about SOLDIER training," she says then. "He learned under a SOLDIER First Class, when he was a SOLDIER Second Class himself. Angeal Hewley, that was the teacher – they fought in Wutai together. When another SOLDIER First Class, Genesis -"

Cloud suddenly stands up, hard and fast enough that the chair he's sitting on clatters back and against the wall. Then, without a word, he stumbles out of the office, banging the door shut behind him hard enough to make the whole shipping crate office shudder.

"Oh," Aerith says, wincing, her shoulders coming up. "Oh, I guess that was… too much, then. Shit."

On the couch behind her, Zack Fair makes a noise, sleepy and confused, and Aerith's attention is split between the door, the window still vibrating in Cloud's wake, and Zack, who is frowning, his eyelids flickering – finally looking like he might be waking up.

"I'll… I'll go after Cloud," Desmond offers, standing up. "You –" he motions at Zack, not sure what to say. "Just take your time."

Aerith squeezes his hand quickly, gratefully. "Don't go far," she says. "We don't want the Whispers to come back now."

"Right," Desmond agrees, considering it and then picking up a couple of drinks from the rather battered grocery bag to take with him. He pauses at the door, giving Aerith a look. "Are you alright?"

"No, but I've been worse," Aerith promises – which isn't all that comforting, but probably the best you could ask for in this situation. "Can you make sure Cloud's not getting into trouble?"

"Will do," Desmond promises, saluting with the protein shake, and heads out.

Cloud thankfully hasn't gone far – he's still within eyesight, gripping his sword like he wants to fight something, but standing completely still. He's also shaking, a little bit, his whole body stiff, the muscles of his arms practically screaming tension.

Desmond makes sure to make some noise, approaching him – he does not want to startle the guy right now. It still takes a moment before Cloud notices him, tensing up further and croaking out, "What?" sharply over his shoulder. "You know things about me too, things I don't?"

"Nope, I don't even know what's going on, really," Desmond muses. "But I know what it feels like, when your brain plays tricks on you."

"Tch. Really?"

"Mm-hmm. There is a thing that the human mind does, to fill in the gaps," Desmond muses, keeping his distance, but inching into Cloud's peripheral view, just so that the man knows that Desmond's not about to sneak up on him. "When it loses memories or gets confused. You find a sword in your hand, and you don't know where it came from, but the human mind isn't too good at dealing with uncertainty, so it comes up with a reasonable explanation. I've got a sword in my hand, it thinks. It must be my sword. I must be a guy that uses swords. "

Cloud grips the sword he has in his hand right now harder but doesn't answer, just looks away, gritting his teeth.

"I get it. It sucks," Desmond says, and offers him one of the protein shakes. "Wanna go kill something?"

That makes the guy pause. "… what?" Cloud asks, looking at him over his shoulder with surprise, eyes flicking between him and the bottle.

Desmond shrugs. The guy seemed the most confident and sure of himself so far when they were fighting the fiends before, so… "There are some monsters over there," he says, pointing with the shake. "A few of the red critters from before, with the spikes?"

Cloud stares at him like he's not sure about Desmond's sanity either, which is probably fair. Then he looks where Desmond is pointing, an area some ways lower than where they are currently, a hole dug into the earth, like a mining site. Cloud hesitates for a moment, almost physically teetering on the edge, shifting his footing. Then he accepts the protein shake, twists the cap open, and says, "Be right back."

"Alrighty. Have fun," Desmond offers, and Cloud marches off, steps heavy as he goes. Desmond follows him enough to be able to keep an eye on him, leaning onto a makeshift baluster of rusted up barrels and hardened sacks of concrete, watching as Cloud tears into some more monsters, but it doesn't look like the guy needs a babysitter. Humming idly, Desmond opens his bottle, and settles in to watch.

It doesn't quite relieve the tension, but Cloud seems a tiny bit less on edge when he marches back. "Are there any more?" he asks, somewhere between determined, sullen and eager.

It'll probably take more than a few monsters for the guy to feel like he's in control again. You gotta start somewhere, Desmond muses, and points him the right way.

Chapter Text

Zack had been sure he'd make it. That was the ember he'd kept alive all the way from Nibelheim, past Gongaga, into Costa del Sol, over the ocean, into Banora and back, past Junon – he was sure they'd make it. He had to be, because if he let himself doubt even for a second, then… then that'd be it, that be them done. They had to make it, so he was sure they'd make it.

He hadn't thought it would end up being just him, in the end.

"Zack?" a sweet, sweet voice asks as he slowly comes to, his head aching but otherwise feeling better than he had since spotting Midgar in the distance. Though he kind of expects to wake up with his face in the mud, he's on his back instead, lying on something soft – cushions, a couch. There's a weight beside him, someone sitting on the couch, making the cushions dip under her.

"Aerith," he whispers and looks up – and it's a shock that she's actually there. It's not a dream – she's really there, looking down at him. Her hair is longer, and she's wearing a new jacket – but it's her, it's really her. "I made it."

She smiles, her eyes bright with tears. "You made it," she agrees and then gives him a little pat. "I've been waiting. Welcome home."

The words are the exact ones he'd been hoping to hear, the ones he'd been psyching himself up with every day. Make it to Midgar, see Aerith, hear her say, I've been waiting, welcome home, and then it would finally be alright. It's so close to all his dreams that it – doesn't – feel real.

So, is it another dream after all?

Zack sits up and then winces, clutching at his stomach. "What –" he says, grunting. He feels bruised there – but all the other cuts and bruises are gone. It's almost novel, to feel pain in just one spot. Well, two. The headache is still there. "This is…" real?

"Oh, you've been hanging on Cloud's shoulder for a while, and we had to do some jumping and climbing, I guess you're feeling that," Aerith says, lifting a wrist – she's got a bangle on, and Materia in it. "Do you want me to heal it?"

"Cloud's here?" Zack asks, his head coming up. "Where?"

"He had to step outside for a bit – he's not… well," Aerith says, and casts a Cure over Zack, taking care of the bruised stomach, if not the head ache, that stays. "He'll be back – I have a friend watching over him."

Zack blinks and then looks around, confused. He'd been aiming for the church, he's pretty sure about that – this is not it. Nor is it Aerith's home. "Where are we?" he asks. "And where – how – Cloud's conscious again? And here? I thought I left him – " he stops, trying to remember. "I left him at – wait… why can't I remember?"

"It's the Whispers – the ghostly things that were attacking you? They take away memories," Aerith says, clasping her hands together. "You might remember, but you might not. Probably best not to worry about it – whatever happened to you two when you got separated, he's alright now… sort of."

"Sort of?" Zack asks.

"Yeah, he's got some memory problems too, as it happens. Worse than you, too," Aerith says and winces. "You'll see."

Zack opens his mouth to ask and then stops and just… stares at her. It's really her. It's Aerith, sitting next to him, so close that he can smell the flowers on her, so close that he can feel her body heat. She's right there – and real. He made it.

"Hey there," she says, giving him a feeble smile, and the tears glistening in her eyes spill over, down her cheeks. "I missed you."

Zack can't speak, he barely dares to breathe in her direction, and it feels impossible to just touch her, to reach out to wipe the tears away. Aerith, thank the Goddess, has no such qualms. She throws herself into his arms and hugs tight, and it feels so right and natural to put his arms around her, to bring her close. She feels so right, so good in his arms.

Zack stares at her braid. She's still wearing it – she's wearing the ribbon he bought for her. After all this time, she's still got it on, just like she promised. "I'm sorry – it took me so long," he struggles to say. "I didn't mean to –"

"It's okay, it's okay, it's not your fault," Aerith sobs in answer, arms winding tighter around his shoulders, her face pressed against his neck, pressing kisses to his skin. "You're here now, you're here, that's enough – "

Together, they clutch to each other and cry it out, Zack letting out four years and several months worth of pain and uncertainty and confusion out, knowing she's more than strong enough to handle it – and taking whatever she is letting out in return.

They're both a mess of tears and snot by the time Aerith eases back, laughing and bringing out a handkerchief to clean up with. "You're a mess," she laughs and then kisses him. "I love you."

And just for a moment everything is right in the world.

Then he has to ask, "Where are we – what is this place?"

"Abandoned construction office in the Sector Five slums – we're hiding from the Turks right now," Aerith explains. "This place is abandoned and no one comes here, so it's safe – and Desmond's on the lookout. I think he's having Cloud go after monsters too, should make this place even safer."

"What? But Cloud is – "

"He's alright. Or fit to fight, anyway," Aerith says and takes his hands in hers, giving them a squeeze. "He's been awake for weeks, now. He's, uh… a little confused, but strong."

Again trying to remember where he'd left Cloud, Zack frowns. He's pretty sure the last time he'd seen Cloud, the poor Spiky hadn't been able to lift his head all the way. "That's – that's great! I thought he would never wake up all the way. He's been with you all this time? Talk about luck – here I was trying to make my way to you, and he beat me to it?"

"Aah, not quite – he's been in Sector Seven, I think," Aerith says and looks away, thinking. "He's been getting up to no good, but… anyway. He fell into the church just a little after we found you. Right through the roof, just like you."

"Really?" Zack asks. "Damn. Walking in my footsteps, huh, Cloudy…"

Aerith winces. "Boy, you have no idea," she says and squeezes his hands. "You need to be – well, I don't need to tell you that you need to be careful with him. But… he doesn't remember you, Zack."

That… does not make any sense. "What do you mean – he doesn't remember where we split up either?"

"No, he doesn't remember you… at all," Aerith says, looking at him steadily. "What happened to you two, it really scrambled up his brains – not only does he not remember you but… he doesn't really remember himself, either. He's confused. He thinks he's a SOLDIER First Class and everything."

Zack opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakes his head. "You know what, after all the First Class SOLDIERs I've known, he might as well be," he decides and squeezes her hands in return before winding their fingers together and moving to get up. "I want to see him – and this Desmond. Who's Desmond? You didn't exchange me for a newer model, did you?" he asks, even though after the kiss he's not too worried about her having given up on him.

Aerith lets out a surprised laugh. "Oh no, he's not like that. He's my cousin. Kind of," she says and sits up, pulling him up to his feet as well. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

Zack moves to get up, and in that moment his stomach lets out a helpless, aching groan, and he's reminded that it's been… a while since he had anything to eat. He'd found some clean water the other day, at least he hoped it was clean, but food had been a little harder to come by. 

"Uh," he says, embarrassed, as Aerith pauses to stare at him. "Sorry – do you think there's running water here?"

"I can check – wait –" Aerith says and then gets something from the floor – a rather torn up grocery bag. "We got some food – it's not much, just some shakes and dry stuff, granola bars and cookies, but –" she holds it out to him. "Go ahead."

"You got me food – Aerith, I could kiss you," Zack says, sighing with eager relief. "Gimme, gimme."

Aerith lets out a little laugh. "It was Desmond, he's the one who got it – but I'll take the kiss in his stead," she says, smacking one lightly on his scarred cheek, before helping him tear into the packages.

Zack gets through two granola bars, a shake, and half a packet of digestives before feeling a little more fit to function. Chugging another shake, he follows Aerith out of the dingy little shipping crate office, out and into what looks like half a junkyard and half a building site, with construction machinery and materials strewn about, and metal walls barely holding back all the rubble all around. There's a guy hanging around across the clearing in front of the office, leaning into some crates and watching something going on at a lower level.

"Desmond!" Aerith calls and leads Zack over, while the guy turns to look at them. "Zack's awake! Let me introduce you properly. This is Zack Fair, he's a SOLDIER First Class and my boyfriend. Zack, this is Desmond Miles – my cousin from another Planet."

What? "Um, hi?" Zack says, looking the man up and down. Desmond's tall but kinda skinny, wearing a pretty raggedy set of blue trousers and burn-marked white hoodie. No bangle or armour on him, but he's got a decent-sized knife, and there's something strapped around his left arm, maybe some kind of accessory. He doesn't look much like Aerith, but there's something about how he feels. There's a magical sort of aura to him - and yet it doesn't feel like he has any Materia on him. Hmm.

What catches Zack is the eyes though – there's something about the eyes…

"Hear you've been looking after things," Zack says, offering his hand. "Nice to meet you – and thanks for the food, man, I really appreciate it."

"No worries, you looked like you needed some. Welcome back to the world of the living," Desmond says, shaking his hand briefly.

"I didn't know Aerith had other family left," Zack comments, casting her a look and arching his brows.

She shrugs. "Well, I didn't know either. It is what it is."

Desmond smiles faintly and then looks over his shoulder. "Looks like Cloud's about done."

Zack blinks and then leans past the guy to see – and there's his buddy, swinging a sword around at a couple of minor monsters, flickers of green whirling around him where he's already dispatched a couple. Cloud looks good, he looks really good – all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, still wearing SOLDIER get up and pulling it off like he was born wearing it. Damn.

Something tense and nervous inside Zack uncoils as he watches Cloud use some sword skill, his massive blade swinging sharply this way and that, and the fight ends with the gorgers breaking up into motes of Lifestream.

"Might want to take it easy on him," Desmond says conversationally, folding his arms, as Cloud clips his sword into a magnetic sheath on his back. "He's not quite all there yet."

"Aerith told me," Zack agrees quietly and looks between them. "How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad," Aerith says, smiling painfully.

"He's on the verge of a mental breakdown and just looking at you gives him flashbacks," Desmond says to Zack. "His sense of self is held up by a prayer."

Zack winces at that and then runs a hand through his hair, trying to think. His fingers snag on tangles and he grimaces. "It's been… pretty tough few years for us," he admits. "And he's been out of it for months, now. It's – it's already a huge improvement that he's up and about, walking and doing stuff. I didn't really expect him to get to a hundred percent again."

Cloud has spotted them now and is visibly hesitating before starting to make his way over to them. Zack looks at him and then at Aerith and Desmond. "So, what should I do?"

"Um," Aerith thinks. "Don't ask him to remember things – I tried that, and it went badly. I think it actually hurts him."

"Yeah. Don't reference stuff you went through just yet," Desmond says. "And don't get handsy – he's not comfortable being touched. Maybe just act all casual and don't push things."

"Alright, I can do that," Zack nods, relieved that at least someone knows what they're doing, and then lifts his chin as Cloud joins them. Cloud's eyes are all clear and sharp – and shiny in the evening dim. Zack's heart feels like it's about to burst, but somehow he manages to just say, "Hey there."

"… Hi," Cloud says warily and waits for him to continue. Zack wants to – he wants to leap up to hug the guy – but he doesn't, and eventually Cloud shifts his feet uncomfortably and looks at Desmond and Aerith. "Now what?"

"Hm, that's the question," Aerith hums, steepling her hands in thought. "I can't go home, because that's where the Turks will be, I don't think we can go to the Central District either, there's bound to be infantry there, and the trains aren't running because of the bombing… Guess we'll just hide here until things blow over?"

… bombing?

"I'm for it," Desmond comments, looking around. "Seems like a good place to hide. No movement, no patrols, no surveillance, from what I can tell. No cameras."

"There usually isn't, under the Plate," Zack muses, wondering how new he is to Midgar – and how can he tell there's no cameras? Admittedly, ShinRa isn't usually trying to hide them, but...

"Yeah, people down here always break them, so ShinRa no longer bothers trying to monitor people," Aerith says, shrugging. "So, we're staying here, then?"

Cloud scowls, shaking his head. "I gotta get to Sector Seven," he says. "And since your… friend is awake, I might as well go now, right? You don't need me here anymore."

"Um," Aerith says, uncertain, and then tilts her head. "Right, sure – but do you know how to get there?"

"Of course I do," Cloud says so quickly that it's plainly obvious he does not.

"What's in Sector Seven?" Zack asks, trying to sound casual, even though there are so many things he wants to ask.

"Clients," Cloud says and then adds, somewhat irritably, shifting his weight like he's restless. "I'm a mercenary, I was hired by some people in Sector Seven Slums. I should get back to them."

It takes almost physical effort not to say anything to that, because, that's… that's the dream Zack had. For them to be mercenaries together, when they reached Midgar – to be free and do as they willed. Had Cloud heard him, through the Mako poisoning? That's awesome, but also ouch. Cloud really had forgotten him, huh? Well, it's kind of obvious by the way he's looking at Zack like he not only does not know him, but is kind of scared of him, and that's a special kind of pain after all they'd gone through. Still… Cloudy had gone and achieved Zack's dream for them without him. 

Aerith looks between them and then clasps her hands together. "Well, we can't go back home just yet since we gotta lay low, and Cloud doesn't know where to go, so…" she says brightly and looks at Desmond. "We'll all head to Sector Seven together!"

"What about your mom?" Desmond asks, arching his brows. "She won't be too happy about it."

"I think she'll understand," Aerith says, smiling. "We're helping out a friend – and staying safe. And will be back before she knows it. It's the perfect plan."

"Um, that's not –" Cloud starts to say, scowling.

Zack nods quickly. "Right. You know, I wanted to become a mercenary too," he says with forced cheer, grinning at Cloud. "You can show me the ropes, buddy!"

"Uh," Cloud says, stepping back a little, blinking rapidly.

"Desmond can help you too – he's really good at finding jobs," Aerith agrees, smiling, to which the man gives an amused little shrug and Aerith grins wider. "I bet he can find you all kinds of customers – and I can help you out too! We'll be a troop of mercenaries, together!"

Cloud looks absolutely mortified. "You think it's that easy?" he demands.

"I don't see why not," Aerith says and looks at Desmond. "What do you think?"

"I think you're biting off more than you can chew," the man says, shaking his head, and reaching over to ruffle her bangs fondly. "But that seems to be the trend around here. How about we just show Cloud the way and figure out the rest later?"

Aerith pouts at him, stomping her foot, and looks at Zack. "You're on my side, right, Zack?"

"Absolutely. We'll make a troop of mercenaries, even if it's just the two of us," Zack promises and then winks to Cloud – who, at least, reacts to that the way he used to. "But a little guidance from the experts wouldn't go amiss," he suggests.

Cloud looks between them uncertainly and then glances at Desmond, who lets out a little chuckle and shrugs. Finally, Cloud gives up with a sigh. "Fine, whatever," he says grumpily. "Lead the way, I guess."

And with that, it's apparently settled. Aerith claps her hands delightedly and then winds her arms around Zack's bicep. "Right this way, gentlemen!" she says brightly, and begins dragging Zack along, Cloud following shortly after, sighing, while Desmond brings up the rear.

"So, uh," Zack says, uncertain. There are so many things he wants to know about, and he kind of wants to keep an eye on Cloud, except he can tell that's making the guy uncomfortable, so… he turns his attention to Aerith instead and asks, "Why can't you go home? Is it because of the Turks?"

"Yeah – it's about time, I guess," Aerith says, smiling sadly. "Hojo wants me back in the lab."

Feeling his blood running suddenly colder, Zack frowns. "We're not going to let that happen," he says firmly. "That asshole can't lay a finger on you."

"Here's hoping," Aerith sighs and then smiles. "Are you gonna protect me?"

"Damn straight I will."

"My hero," she smiles brighter, and leans more towards him as they walk. "I'm so glad you're back."

"Me too," Zack sighs. Just as soon as he figured out what was going on… yeah. "Me too."

It takes Zack a little longer than he'd like to admit to realise that Desmond is kind of running interference. Admittedly, he's a little distracted by Aerith – she really looks amazing – but still. He's a SOLDIER, he should notice these things.

They have a couple of fights, which distract him – looks like this area of the slums if infested with gorgers and hedgehogs, they're just spewing out of the junkyard all around them – and those are more or less fine. Cloud is decent with his sword, Aerith got some new tricks up her sleeve, which look amazing, and Desmond's not too shabby with his knife. Zack has no weapon, but his fists do a good enough job at putting the little critters down – he might've gotten a little worn down by his trip, but he's still packing a SOLDIER's punch, so that's fine.

During fights they invariably migrate closer to each other, in order to get at the fiends more effectively. But in between fights…

"Man, this place has changed," Zack muses, peering around them. "A lot more junk in here than the last I saw. And they're still not done with the Plate extension, huh?"

"I don't think they're ever going to finish it, really," Aerith admits. "The construction's really halted – and with the bombings too, well… I don't think construction is a major issue."

"You mentioned that before – bombings, what bombings?"

"Um… the, uh… reactor bombings. Reactor 1 was bombed just the other day – took the whole thing out," Aerith says, looking a little uncomfortable. "It was Avalanche. And this morning they attacked Reactor 5."

"Oh, wow, really," Zack says, and sensing the sudden tension in the air glances back. It's coming from Cloud – the guy's gone all tense. "You know something about that, Cloud?"

Cloud actually looks a little guilty. "I, uh…"

"Looks like there are some more monsters coming up," Desmond calls from where he's standing, on top of some crates. "Everyone ready for another fight?"

The fight isn't that close, not close enough to need a warning, anyway, nor is it tough enough to be worried about. It's over quickly enough too, with none of them worse for wear afterwards. But man…

"Really missing my sword right about now," Zack admits, shaking his fists. Thanks to Angeal's training, he's pretty decent at hand to hand combat, but it's definitely not his preference, especially not after getting used to fighting with a big old sword. "And my Materia, too, I had some pretty good ones. Hey, Cloud, do you still have the Buster Sword?"

"What? Um," the guy hesitates, clipping his sword on his back again. "Yeah, it's back at Stargazer Heights – an inn in Sector Seven."

Nice to hear the guy had been staying at an actual inn and not on the streets. "Sweet," Zack says, grinning. "Since you're using another sword now, you don't mind if I take it back, right? Feeling kinda naked here without a proper weapon."

Cloud just stalls at that, and behind him Desmond stops just short of colliding with the guy.

"Speaking of which, Cloud," Desmond says casually. "Where do you get a sword that big, anyway? Who makes swords that big?"

Zack snorts – ah, the double entendres...

"There's a vendor – he made it for me to promote his shop," Cloud says, awkward, looking between him and Zack.

Desmond lets out a thoughtful noise. "Oh, really? You do that often, helping shops promote? How'd that come about?" he asks, curious.

"Just sorta happened," Cloud says, shrugging.

"Cool," Desmond grins. "So, do you think he can make weapons other than swords? I got a blacksmith in Sector Five making me some throwing knives, but he doesn't know much about crossbows – do you think your guy does?"

Cloud frowns a little at that, still looking a little uncomfortable, but... less so. "Crossbows? You fight with a crossbow."

"I would if I had one," Desmond shrugs. "So what kind of stuff does the place you got your sword from sell?"

And thus Cloud is distracted and Zack is kind of shouldered out of the conversation entirely. Left feeling a little like an outsider, Zack looks between them, trying to put a finger on what he's actually seeing. Hoping she might have some input, Zack turns his eyes to Aerith, who gives him an apologetic shrug and then winds her arm around his, again, and urges him forward. Okay then. Weird, Zack thinks, and decides to keep a closer eye on them.

Next time it happens, Aerith is talking about the flowers she's been growing around her home, how even the water has cleared – how there are now fishes growing in the pond. Cloud is walking behind them, and Zack can feel the guy's Mako –bright eyes on his back, can feel Cloud trying to figure him out – and then the blondie just stops again, clutching at his forehead with a flinch. Zack stops to help, almost, it looks like some sort of attack, it looks like Cloud's in real pain – but Desmond's there first.

"What do you think that is?" the guy says to Cloud, pointing into the piles of junk left to them.

"What?" Cloud grunts, squinting.

"That thing – the big ball thingy," Desmond says, pointing. "I've been seeing a bunch of them around – what do you think they're for?"

Cloud squints harder, concentrating – and almost visibly pulls himself out of the attack in order to see what the guy is talking about. "That's a mako tank?"

"What, really?"

Cloud shakes his head, his eyes clearing. "Yeah. An old one."

"Huh. It's massive."

"They usually are."

Zack tilts his head, humming to himself, and then looks away, making a mental note of it. He's not exactly sure what to make of it, but he's not exactly sure what's going on with Cloud's head, either. But he can recognise distraction and diversion when he sees it – though he's never seen someone diverting someone else's attention from their own head like that… well. He's seen weirder things.

"What did you say your cousin does for a living?" Zack asks Aerith under his breath.

Aerith smiles beatifically. "He's an Assassin."

"Uh… okay?" Zack says, blinking. "That sounds…" bad, but then again, who the hell is he to judge, considering the company he's kept over the years. The guy definitely doesn't look like an assassin either – although Zack isn't sure what an assassin is actually supposed to look like. Something like a ninja, maybe. "So, he's here to kill someone?"

"He's here to help me," Aerith says, shrugging. "I've got some stuff I need to do, and I need a lot of help."

"I can help you too," Zack says quickly. "Just tell me what to do, and I am your man."

Aerith smiles wider at that, and leans her cheek against his bicep. "I'd hoped you say that," she says with a sigh. "Because we've got a world to save."

"Oh, just that, huh?" Zack asks with a laugh. Behind them, Cloud and Desmond are talking, Cloud somewhat stiltedly maybe, but still talking, about different kinds of weapons."When's the end of the world, then?"

"In a year," she says and closes her eyes. "That's when Sephiroth will try to destroy the world."

Zack blinks, staring straight ahead. Then he manages, "What?"

"Yeah," Aerith says and looks up. "I'm really glad you're here, Zack. With you, and Cloud, and Desmond… maybe we can stop it this time."

Right, okay. Zack's missed some things, clearly, but, uh… "Sephiroth died in Nibelheim."

"He comes back," Aerith says, shaking her head. "He's in the Lifestream, his will intact. And Hojo's been trying to make clones of him – soon, Sephiroth will take control of one of them."

Zack opens his mouth, then closes it, and looks back towards Cloud – the last person with intact S Cells inside him. "Uh –"

"No, not Cloud – not yet, anyway. Cloud's will is too strong, for now," Aerith says quietly. "But Sephiroth will try. He's probably already trying, but there's a barrier there still, the Whispers holding him back. So as long as they're containing Sephiroth, he can't do much – but eventually, they will let him possess one of the clones, to set things in motion."

What does that even…? "I don't understand," Zack admits, looking down at her. "How do you know about this?"

Aerith looks back to where Desmond is cheerfully distracting Cloud. "I'm from the future," she says. "I'm here to stop the end of the world."

Zack stares at her for a long moment, not entirely sure what to say or even think. It sounds like… complete bullshit really, even coming from her, but... considering some of the things he'd seen, Angeal, Genesis, Sephiroth himself, yeah. What the hell?

"Alright," Zack says and shakes his head. Time travel it is. "So, what's the plan?"

Chapter Text

There are voices fighting in the back of Cloud's head.

One says he's being played for a sucker, that this is all some sort of elaborate joke they're doing at his expense, that he's going to end up the laughing stock of whatever this even is. Any moment now, the joke would be up and this whole thing would reveal itself as a big, stupid… something. Hoax isn't the right word, doesn't hold enough maliciousness. Because to pull something like this off, you gotta be really fucking malicious. Right? Either it's a joke, or… or he's being manipulated for the benefit of these people, somehow, they're using him for something, they're…

Using you like the puppet you are…

The other voice tells him that it makes no sense, and how could someone make someone else have sudden bouts of splitting headache? Could be a skill, sure, but not much of one. A spell, maybe, but not one he's ever heard of. No, it makes no sense – and he's been having bouts of headache ever since the first reactor. Some sort of side effect to Mako, maybe – like the president said. SOLDIERs degrade, right? It's just the first sign of his eventual descent into – into –

Into what?

Cloud tries to chase the flyaway thoughts, half-formed – little snippets of memories that don't make sense. It's like he's missing half of concepts that should make sense but don't. He should know this. All of this.

He should know who Zack Fair is, that much is clear by now. They all act like he should. Well, Zack does, as does Aerith. Where have you been, Cloud – mind if I take it back now – hey buddy – do you think I could make a good SOLDIER –

"Look alive – looks like we're here," Desmond says. "Or somewhere – is that a playground?"

Cloud looks up, his vision clearing. Aerith and Zack are heading forward, hand in hand, like a pair of kids. "Oh man, this place is still here – and just as I remember it!" Zack shouts, as Aerith giggles.

Cloud hesitates, looking at Desmond, who's hanging back, leaning onto a fence surrounding the playground. "You're not going ahead?"

"Looks like they could use a moment," Desmond shrugs with a smile, and Cloud answers with a noncommittal hum, looking after the pair.

Looking at Zack still hurts, but there's also this itch in his head, like the tingle of electricity on the tip of his tongue, like if he just pushes through the pain, if he just looks long enough, he will get it, he will remember. It's almost there, that – that familiarity, so tantalizingly close –

Desmond clears his throat sharply and nods past the playground. "So, that's the wall between Sectors Six and Seven, huh? Are all the sectors walled off like this?"

"I think so, yeah," Cloud agrees, shaking his head as his vision clears and he realises he'd been squinting, again. "And the whole place is surrounded by a wall," Desmond muses, peering up at the sliver of sky they can see, where the plate is still unfinished. "I don't get it. Who builds a city like this?"

Cloud looks around, shaking off the voices. "ShinRa," he says flatly.

"Well, yeah – but why?"

"Supposedly it's to keep the monsters away. If you think there's a lot of them here, you should see the plains outside," Cloud says, and then leans onto the fence too. "At least, that's the justification, I think."

"Huh," Desmond answers. "So there are monsters out there too. I thought they were spawning from the pollution?"

"They spawn everywhere," Cloud answers. "The monsters here are weak – out there, they have time to properly fester and get stronger."

Desmond makes a thoughtful noise, still peering up at the Plate above. Cloud glances at him, and then looks back at Zack and Aerith, deep in conversation now. Zack occasionally glances his way, as does Aerith. They're talking about him – talking about the things he can't remember. Things he should remember.

Blowing out a breath, Cloud stares at Zack and again tries to figure it out – and of course that's when Desmond makes a noise beside him.

"Right, monsters," he says. "Guess that explains the walls – but why are the sectors walled off from each other, though? Unless it's to keep various monster populations in the slums from mingling, or whatever."

Cloud lets out a frustrated breath. "No, I think it's to keep the people from mingling," he says with a scoff. "Keep 'em spread out, so they don't grow too big." That makes the guy look at him with surprise, brows arching. Cloud looks back, scowling. "What?

"Nothing. Guess what makes a fucked up sort of sense," Desmond says, shaking his head a little. "How's your head feeling?"

Damn it. "It's still attached to my shoulders," Cloud mutters, and rubs at his neck, looking away. He hasn't missed the fact that every time it got bad, Desmond drew him out of it. He isn't sure what to think of it, he's not sure he wants to think about it, but… "You know what's wrong with me?" Cloud asks, trying to swallow his frustration.

Desmond shrugs. "Well, I'm not an expert. But I had a – a similar condition, way back when. Identity disorder of sorts," he says. "It's probably nothing like what you got going on, but… you know."

"Identity disorder," Cloud repeats, suspiciously. Really – the guy can just admit something like that?

"I'd go snap and think I was other people," Desmond agrees, actually snapping his fingers for emphasis, and smiles. "I'm better now, I think, but – it's not something you forget. Sometimes I needed a hand to get back to myself, so… figure I might as well pay it forward."

Cloud looks away, folding his arms and trying to not feel so vulnerable under the guy's eyes. Thankfully, Desmond doesn't look at him for long – turning his overly perceptive gaze back to Aerith and Zack, who are now climbing up a sort of giant… bear head thing. They look like they're having fun. They look like… like...

And there's that spike through his head again, okay. Fine. Cloud looks away, grimacing. "I didn't even know I was –" he mutters and then grits his teeth. "I don't even know how much I've – I can't remember. I didn't even know something was wrong."

"That's how it goes sometimes," Desmond agrees. "You shouldn't push yourself too much just yet. Just knowing is half of the battle – "

"I'm not delicate," Cloud snaps. "I can handle it."

Desmond blows out a breath at that and glances at him. "Can you?" he asks. "Is it something you want to risk? Fractured sense of self isn't an easy thing to fix. Can you afford going catatonic right now?"

Cloud glares at him, pressing his lips together and glancing towards Zack again, scowling. "So what do I do then?"

"Right now? Give yourself a break," Desmond says and shrugs. "I get wanting to fix it, but this shit takes time. There's no instant fix for mental disorders. You can't just grit your teeth and force it."

"But what do I do?" Cloud demands and looks away, annoyed. "Short term, long term – whatever. What do I do to fix it?"

Desmond thinks about it. "I don't suppose psychiatric help is something you're willing to turn to?"

Cloud scoffs. "How did you do it?" he asks.

"I don't think my way's applicable here," Desmond snorts. "I guess you have to do it the old-fashioned way. First figure out what's… wrong, and then untangle it, bit by bit, to make sense of it. And then hope for the fucking best."

"Tch," Cloud answers, glaring at the ground. "Sounds like that will take a while. And if I don't have the time to go catatonic, I definitely don't have the time for that."

"Yeah, probably not," the guy shrugs. "Right now I suggest you figure out how much you can take – and try not to take more than that. Figure what triggers you and then avoid it."

Blowing out a breath, Cloud looks up and to where Zack and Aerith are sitting. "Don't think I will have much luck there, either," he mutters.

Desmond chuckles ruefully. "Yeah, it's a mess, isn't it?" he agrees. "My condolences. For what it's worth, I can give you a hand where I can while I'm still around, if you want… but I don't know how much I will be around."

"Oh?"

"I go where Aerith goes. And I have no idea where she's going," Desmond shrugs.

Cloud glances at him and then towards the pair up on the play set. "Hmm," he answers. He'd say no, if it was offered head on, no strings attached. Deals with supposedly no strings tend to come with most strings. But Desmond's got his priorities, and Cloud's not it, and that's… that's good.

"So, what's her deal, anyway?" Cloud asks, watching Aerith animatedly explain something to utterly smitten Zack, until the pain begins to rise again.

"Not my story to tell," Desmond says, smiling. "You'll probably find out soon enough, though. I got a feeling that once she latches onto people, she doesn't let go easy."

Yeah, Cloud got that impression too, but… "Aren't you her cousin, shouldn't you know?" he asks dubiously, rubbing at his forehead.

"I haven't been around that much before, it's all new to me," Desmond admits and glances at him. "I'm new in town."

"Tch. Same," Cloud answers, dropping his hand. "Where are you from?"

"No place you've heard of."

"Try me."

Desmond chuckles. "Alright. Little town called New York."

Cloud thinks about it for a moment and then admits. "Never heard of it."

"Hah, told you so," Desmond says, grinning. "I'd ask where you're from, but I wouldn't know it either."

"Nibelheim," Cloud answers.

"Yep – never heard of it."

Cloud looks away, feeling his lips twitch. "Liar. Aerith mentioned it."

"Okay, I never heard of it before she mentioned it," Desmond says, shrugging. "Still says nothing to me. Might as well be a town on an alien planet. Sorry."

Cloud snorts at that and then tenses, expectant – but Desmond doesn't react to it at all, just smiles, not even looking at him. Relaxing a little, Cloud settles back to lean against the fence. For a while they're just quiet, listening to the distant murmur of Zack and Aerith talking, and though Cloud expects Desmond to break the silence… he doesn't.

Cloud isn't entirely sure what to do with that. Should he say something? Maybe. He should ask about Zack probably, about the things he's missing, but...

The world around them breaks the silence for him – there's a great clatter coming from past the playground, machinery whirring and clacking. Zack and Aerith look up too, and beside Cloud Desmond tenses up.

The gates between Sectors Six and Seven are opening, and something's coming through – a chocobo drawn carriage.

"Huh," Desmond says beside him, while Cloud makes an aborted gesture towards the gates – but as soon as the carriage is through, the gates begin closing again. There's no way he can make it through in time.

"Cloud!" Aerith calls, running towards him from the playground. "The carriage –!"

Cloud looks and then sees it – there's a passenger in the back, a black-haired woman in a dress – "Is that –?"

Quickly pushing away from the fence, Cloud runs after the carriage and then hops onto the step, grabbing hold of the wooden bars in the back. "Tifa?" Cloud calls inside. "Tifa, are you alright?"

"Cloud? Oh, Cloud, you made it! We were worried," she says, quickly sliding to her knees and towards him. "Are you alright? Did you fall all the way to the slums?"

"Yeah, but I'm fine – what about you, and Barret – Biggs?" Cloud asks quickly. "And what's this, where are you going?"

"It's – a long story. Everyone's alright, though, we all got through alright," Tifa promises, shaking her head as the carriage rattles on, Cloud hanging from the back. "They're back at Seventh Heaven, they'll be glad to see you. Even Barret's been worried sick. You should head back there."

"But where are you going?" Cloud asks, looking at the carriage. "And what are you wearing?"

"What, you don't like it?" Tifa asks and grins, distracted. "Like I said, it's a long story. I'm headed to Don Corneo's place for an audition – don't worry about me, it's all planned out, alright? I'll see you back at Seventh Heaven tomorrow, okay?"

Cloud hesitates, but her expression is confident and the carriage is still moving – he's going to leave the others behind like this. "Are you sure?" he asks, frowning.

"Positive," Tifa nods and smiles. "You've seen how much ass I can kick. I'll see you soon, okay?"

Cloud blows out a breath and then nods. "Holding you to that," he says and then drops off the carriage, watching as it rattles on, towards distant, walled off town in the slums.

"What was that?" Zack asks, jogging over.

"That was Tifa," Aerith says before Cloud can answer. "She's being taken to Don Corneo, right?"

Zack makes a face. "What – that sleazeball is still around?"

"Oh yeah – and he's definitely not gotten any better," Aerith says and comes to Cloud's side. "We're going after her."

"Tifa can handle herself," Cloud says, shaking his head and giving her a look – and avoiding looking at Zack. "How do you even know about her?"

"There's something you will learn very soon about me, Cloud Strife, and that's that I know everything," Aerith says with exaggerated confidence and then lets out a little huff. "I also know that Don Corneo plays dirty. Whatever is going on, Tifa isn't prepared for it, no way."

Cloud shakes his head, a little irritated. "She said she's going to be fine," he says, looking after the carriage.

"Are you sure you want to risk it? Are you really sure, Cloud?"

Cloud shakes his head again, he isn't sure about anything, and with the way Zack and Aerith are looking at him… "I –"

"Who's Don Corneo?" Desmond asks, walking over to them.

"A crime boss," Aerith says and points. "He owns the Wall Market and runs the dirty underbelly of Midgar. And every month or so he runs auditions for Mrs. Corneo, and Tifa's in the next one."

"Every month, huh?" Desmond asks, peering towards the Wall Market, his expression deeply thoughtful. "What happens to the previous month's Mrs. Corneo?"

"Umm. Nothing good? Though you can say that for the current month's Mrs. Corneo too… and all the future ones…"

Cloud's blood runs a little colder at that. "Why would anyone volunteer then?" he asks.

"They usually don't," Aerith shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "Usually it's pretty involuntary."

Looking to where the carriage had gone, Cloud teeters on the edge for a moment. Beside him, Zack folds his arms, frowning thoughtfully. He looks like he's about to say something, but bites his tongue on it, and somehow that's almost worse than if he had made a comment. Desmond, on the other hand, has a look of concentration on his face, eyes narrowed, looking almost like –

"Well, Cloud?" Aerith demands, making a move to grip his arm before stopping herself and squeezing her hands into fists instead. "We're going after her, right?"

Cloud hesitates, glancing at Zack, who looks more than ready, and then Desmond, that dangerous gleam of intent still in his eyes. Cloud swallows and looks away. Fuck it. "Yeah. Let's go."

Wall Market is something else. It's an even worse sprawling mess than the Sector Seven slum town, with establishments stacked on top of each other, with streets that are a confusing winding labyrinth in the darkness. With neon lights flashing everywhere and people milling in the streets in drunken crowds, it's easy to get turned around.

Thankfully Don Corneo's mansion is anything but subtle, towering over the rest of the town, fully lit and gleaming.

"Man, that guy's tastes have not improved, huh?" Zack comments, peering at the building's facade. "There's even more fake gold than before, sheesh."

"Like a giant gilded turd," Aerith agrees, shaking her head.

What they find inside the ugly building is even uglier, really. The front hall is crammed with fast food vendors, as though whoever lived there had the whole establishments delivered to him – and then prohibited them from ever being cleaned properly. There are goons milling about the hall, wearing familiar looking jackets, and firmly prohibiting all entry with a drawled, "No men allowed."

"What about me, then, I'm not a man," Aerith says. "Can I go in?"

The goon on the right scoffs. "In that getup? Psh. Don't be ridiculous."

"Hey," Zack snaps. "There's nothing wrong with her getup."

"Not if you don't mind farmgirls, I guess," the goon snorts. "If you're looking for employment, Missy, you might want to try the Milker's, you look right up their alley. Bet you'd look right at home in a skimpy little –"

"Now wait just a second –"

"Zack," Aerith says, holding him back with a hand and then directing a pleading look at the goons. "Please, I really want to see Don Corneo, it's important. Is there no way you can help me?" She even bats her eyelashes at them.

The head goon in the middle sighs. "Only ones allowed in at this moment are people in the Don's employment – and candidates for Mrs. Corneo. There are no exceptions." 

"Well then," Aerith says and sticks up her hand. "I'll become a candidate! Where do I sign up?"

Zack sputters in horror, and they get summarily laughed out of the place.

"Shoot. I guess we gotta get the dress after all," Aerith mutters. "Oh well, I do love a good dress-up!"

"What?" Cloud asks, blinking.

"You can't be serious," Zack says, shaking his head. "No way, nuh-uh, there is no way we're going to let you go into there alone with a sleazy asshole like Don Corneo. Come on, guys, there's four of us, I bet we can just break in through those guys, get Tifa out, and run."

Aerith shakes her head. "There's a lot more people in there than just the guys up front. Corneo's hired pretty much every criminal in the slums – and the rest work for him freelance. There's no way we could get through them all before something happened to Tifa. It's the only way, Zack."

"And it sounded like Tifa has a mission here," Cloud says, frowning. "Whatever it is, we are not fucking it up for her."

Zack looks stricken at that and then slumps over. "Oh man. I still don't like it, Aerith going there alone, that's not right."

Aerith looks at Cloud and then smiles, mischievous. "Well, maybe I won't be going alone. There are always three girls in the audition for Mrs. Corneo – there is still one slot open."

"Okay, uh," Zack scratches at his scalp. "You know someone around here who'd fit the spot?"

"Maybe," Aerith says and leans in, making Cloud stumble hastily back, almost colliding with Desmond. "Well, how about it, Cloud?"

"Wh-what?" Cloud asks, uneasy.

Aerith grins, borderline devilish now. "I bet you'd look real cute in a dress."

Zack lets out a snort of surprise, while Cloud just gapes at Aerith in horror, feeling his face flush. Is she – she is, she is absolutely serious. Cloud sputters to say something in answer, not sure whether she's even getting this from – and then there's a chuckle behind Cloud, close enough to make the hair in the back of his neck stand up.

"Or how about," Desmond says, his voice dry, "I just sneak in there through that window over there and see if I can find your friend?"

He points, and they all look to – to a third floor window, just barely ajar.

"You could do that?" Cloud asks, quickly backing away from Aerith, past Desmond and not quite to hide behind him. "You could make that climb?"

"Yep," Desmond says. "With no dressup shenanigans required, even."

"Aww, but that's no fun," Aerith says, stomping her feet and folding her arms in an exaggerated huff.

"Well, if you really want dress-up shenanigans, I could use some new clothing," Desmond says, comfortingly. "You can help me find a new jacket."

"That's not the same at all!" Aerith bemoans. "You absolute party pooper."

Desmond chuckles and ruffles her hair. "Yeah, but let's be sensible with lives on the line, all right? You can have a dress-up once we're sure Cloud's friend is alright."

"Oh, fine," she sighs. "It's not a bad plan, you know. It worked the last time. Twice, even."

"I'm sure it did," the guy chuckles and looks at the rest of them. "Everyone else okay with the plan?"

"Do you mean the sneaking in or the dress-up?" Zack snorts. "I'm good with anything that keeps Aerith from harm's way –"

"I can take care of myself, you know –"

"I – am sure you can," Zack says quickly. "But, uh, I'd rather you didn't have to?" he offers, wincing at the look she gives him, and then peering up at the third floor window. "You really think you can make that, Desmond?"

"Shouldn't be an issue," Desmond promises. "Going through what's inside is a different thing, though, but I'll burn that bridge when I get it. Cloud?"

"Yeah?" Cloud asks, looking back down.

"Is there anything I should say to your friend so that she knows I'm friendly?"

Cloud things about it, frowning. "I guess just say you know me?"

Desmond shakes his head. "Sure, I'll do that – but anyone can say that. How do I prove it to get that it really was you who sent me?"

"Uh…"

"Do you have a memento or something from her?" Aerith suggests.

"No?" Cloud answers, making a face. "Why would I?"

"Something just the two of you know, then?" Desmond says.

Blowing out a better breath, Cloud shakes his head. "Just tell her I'm trying to keep my promise, she'll get it."

"Alright, awesome, let's hope that does it," Desmond agrees. "Now let's go mill in the crowd so that I can slip away without people paying me too much attention, shall we? Because right now we're being watched." He nods to the goons hanging about the mansion entrance.

So they do that, Aerith hanging comfortably from Zack's arm and eagerly pointing at some of the shops as they go, while Cloud hangs a bit back and hesitates, looking at Desmond. The guy was a good climber, sure, and he knows how to fight, but… 

"Are you sure about this?" Cloud asks, frowning. "The place is probably crawling with Corneo's people, and I don't think they will be happy if they spot you."

"It's probably fine. I'm pretty good at sneaking around," Desmond assures him and shrugs, looking backwards towards the gaudy, gilded mansion, rising past the other buildings like an ugly mountain. "I think I might've had a go at it, even if your friend wasn't in trouble. That place looks like fun."

Cloud gives him a wary look. "... Fun?"

"Yeah. A big fancy lair full of bad guys and probable treasure. Sounds like a fun evening out to me," Desmond says and grins. "Maybe I'll even find some loot."

Cloud arches his brow and then considers the mansion. Well, when he puts it that way, it does sound kind of fun actually. "And if you get caught and dragged in front of Don Corneo himself?"

Desmond shrugs – and there's that lethal gleam in his eyes again. "Well, that sounds like his problem, honestly," he says and then stops at the edge of the crowd. "Right – time to go. Don't want to waste any time, just in case. Can you keep an eye on Aerith for me?"

"I'll try, but no promises," Cloud says, shaking his head and looking to where Aerith and Zack are talking to a – it's a carnival barker, maybe? "She seems like trouble to me."

"She is – but worth it," Desmond says, throwing him a smile and then pulling up his hood, casting his face in shadow. Somehow, it makes his eyes look brighter – almost like amber. Probably the neon lights reflecting off them. "Alright. Catch you in a bit, Cloud."

With that said, Desmond disappears into the crowd. Cloud blinks, and he's just gone – which for a man of Desmond's height is no small feat. Shaking his head, Cloud turns to where Aerith and Zack had just been, and then sighs. There's no sign of either of them – nor the carnival barker. Great.

Straightening his shoulders and wondering once more what the hell he'd gotten involved with, Cloud sets out to look for them in the throng of happy drunk people. The street isn't that big, they couldn't have done too far, right?

Right.

In the end, Cloud doesn't find them – not before Whispers do, anyway.

Chapter Text

Desmond slides in through the open window and into a crowded attic. He'd kind of expected it, the widow was on the highest level of the gaudy mansion, and it didn't look like it was a full floor. What he didn't expect was what is actually in there – the whole place is absolutely full of all kinds of creepy crap.

There are mannequins, about a dozen of them, dressed in varyingly horrible ways, mostly in fetish or bondage gear. There are boxes that not only look suspicious but also smell bad enough that he doesn't even want to know what's in them. There's a bunch of weird nicknacks – like a clockwork guy in a vitrine and a couple of whole arcade machines. There are piles and piles of ladies' clothes, and then there's actual torture gear. Both look a little bloody.

Even if the whole mansion didn't radiate malice and blood, just looking at this place would make Desmond want to have a chat with the owners. Namely, one where his blade did most of the talking.

There is stuff that looks pretty valuable, though, which Desmond has absolutely no qualms about liberating. There's a sword – shaped like a katana, nice – along with a sort of samurai-esque armour, which Desmond nabs immediately. There's some weird looking jewellery he also pockets, along with a couple of flashing orbs of Materia, which he figures Aerith could use. There is also, jackpot, a crate of explosives – they're fireworks, mostly, but explosive is an explosive.

And that's just the attic.

"I'm gonna love this place," Desmond murmurs, checking the katana's edge. A bit dull, but it would do, he muses and sheathes the thing before zipping his hoodie over the samurai armour thing. Then, with his loot thusly secured, he goes searching for a ladder.

The second level of the mansion is a little busier – there are some goons hanging around the rooms and a couple loitering around the halls. The mansion is built in a weirdly mixed, kind of fake eastern style, all sharp angles with red and gold everywhere. It  feels like he's raiding one of those fake exotic restaurants, where they aimed for an authentic cultural vibe but got things subtly off. The rooms are tall, especially in the central mezzanine area, which covers two levels and has more headspace than actual floor space. That leaves a lot of rafters for Desmond to hide in, if nothing else.

Seriously, though, the owner of this place has some kind of fetish. Or a hundred.

Watching the thugs for a while from the shadows, Desmond waits until he's got their movements down and can tell what they're watching for and what not. Going out in the open doesn't seem that smart an idea, though, so… Desmond sticks to the rafters. It makes spying on people easy.

There's about forty guys in the place, and all of them are armed either with firearms, with decorated bats, or with both – all with a very professional thug look to them. Most of them – though not all, curiously – glow red under Eagle Vision.

"... Man, oh man, I can't wait. The last batch was like, mmh!" one of the guys says, kissing his fingers. "And with the chick they picked up in Sector Seven? I bet the other two are going to bombshells too. I can't wait to have a taste! Maybe we'll even get her."

"Psh, you wish. Tifa's got this in the bag, no way there will be anyone that can beat her."

"You don't know anything – you thought Don would pick the blondie last month, but he went for the bald chick instead."

"Yeah, and for a good reason – ended up being a bit of a dead fish, that one..."

Privately wondering if anyone would mind if he did a spot of murder here later, Desmond grits his teeth and waits until he hears where they've put Tifa – in the basement, apparently, after taking all her weapons – and then he moves on. He listens to a couple more conversations, learns where the treasure vault is – of course there's a treasure vault – before going for the main man himself, the most intense red gleam he's seen so far, bright enough that it's teetering on tipping to gold. The man who turns this place into a lair, the Target.

Even before he actually sees the guy, Desmond can tell Don Corneo is vile.

Leaning to look through a ventilation grate, Desmond peers into what turns out to be a hideously decorated bedroom, with a sweaty, heavyset man rolling on an equally nauseating bed, a phone held to his ear.

"Of course, of course, I would be most happy to help you – but you know searches like these are costly!" The man on the bed croons into the PHS. "I already have my boys on the lookout for the members of the Avalanche – it's taking up all their time!"

There's a pause, the man – Don Corneo himself, presumably – grins into the ceiling. "Well, I wouldn't dare to presume, but you know operations like these can be costly… no no, of course not, but it will stretch my men thin, you see. I will have no one here protecting my investments! I have to look after my own –"

Another pause, and Don Corneo freezes. "No, no, that's not necessary – I'm sure the Turks have better things to do then hang around little old me, heh heh – what did you say you were looking for?" The Don asks, scowling. "I see, yes, of course. I can certainly do that. It's always a pleasure doing –" he stops and lets out an annoyed growl. "Fucking Turks."

As Desmond watches, the man rolls to his feet, belly jiggling as he marches over to the door, throwing it open. "Put a word out," he shouts to his men. "A tall Wutaian in a white hoodie, last seen hanging around that church in Sector Five, two thousand gil to anyone who can bring him alive!"

With that said, Corneo slams the door back shut and goes to belly flop on the bed. "Thank god it's audition day," he groans. "I really need to blow off some steam."

Then the guy beings humping the fucking mattress, and Desmond has a choice to make. On one hand, there's some forty guys in this place, and causing a ruckus would probably be a bad idea. On the other… Don Corneo positively reeks of blood and corruption, and he's alone. There's no telling what kind of consequences his death would have, of course, but considering what kind of effect he has in life...

Decisions, decisions.

In the end, Desmond leaves it be. Cloud's friend is somewhere in here, he can't put her at a risk like that. He'd find her and then, maybe, deal with the trash.

Right, Desmond thinks, before quietly taking off his hoodie and tying it around his waist by the sleeves, just in case. Time to find the basement

And if he happens to find a vault or something along the way to rob, well...

He finds the room where they're holding Tifa eventually, but getting in turns out harder than he'd like. There's only one door into the basement room and it's guarded by two thugs, who are passing a joint between themselves and talking casually about past Mrs. Corneos and what happened to them.

"That – what was her name, Lil-something, Lilian? Man, that one was a waste, she was really something, wasn't she?"

"Is she the one who tried to bite the Don's...?"

"That's the one. And doing what she did after the Don forgave her for that, can you believe it? Some women just don't have any sense…"

"If you think that's a shame, you should've seen what happened to this girl named Sasha – she was a really sweet one, meek as anything. How she ended up here, I don't even know – but man –"

Desmond counts quietly back from five as he listens and then glances at the basement corridor. It's narrow, and unlike the main above, it's not tall enough for rafters, but… fuck it. He'll just have to be quick.

Desmond slowly pulls out his new katana, breathes in and out, and rushes the thugs.

It's messy and awkward. The first thug to spot him gets the katana to his belly – and with the guy wearing nothing to cover his upper body, the katana sinks in like a knife into soft butter, even as dull as it is. The second thug lets out an aborted yelp of alarm – and then he has Desmond's hidden blade through his throat. One twist and he's silent, and as the first thug croaks in shock, Desmond wrenches his katana up, tearing through enough flesh and muscle and internal organs to make quick work of the man.

Catching the bodies before they can make noise, Desmond waits tensely. The action was quick, but not silent, and this is a terrible spot to get into a skirmish…

Nothing, no sound of alarm, no shouts, not even footsteps – the goons on the floor above are blissfully unaware. Good, now…

Desmond quickly takes the keys off one of the bodies, opening the door they'd been guarding before dragging the bodies inside. The room is a mess – like something between a destroyed sitting room and a warehouse. Tifa is lying on the floor there, out cold judging by the looks of it.

Muttering curses Desmond drags the bodies in, closes the door and then quickly goes to check her over. It doesn't look like she's been hurt, but she's definitely been knocked unconscious, probably with drugs, going by how unresponsive she is. Even her pupils are sluggish.

"Shit, I can't get you out like this," Desmond mutters. He'd barely made it down there without being spotted – there is no way he could carry her out. "Damn it…"

Searching the room reveals no solutions – there are no windows and the only door is the one he came through. Searching the bodies offers few solutions either, they don't carry much, really, some money, which Desmond pockets, and bats and guns of course, the latter of which he also nabs, but aside from that there's not much. Smokes, drugs, things he doesn't much care about.

He could maybe disguise himself as one of them, carry Tifa out, claiming she had a bad reaction to the drugs and might go into shock or something, but… 

Desmond's eyes catch on something one of the thugs was carrying – a triangular-shaped little package. It looks like drugs, but Eagle Vision marks it as important. "Hmm," Desmond hums as he investigates and then he smells it. "Yikes, that's –"

Of course. Smelling salts. Had to wake up the girls somehow after knocking them out.

Liking this operation less and less, Desmond breaks the package open and wafts it under Tifa's nose.. She comes to sputtering and coughing, turning away from him to gasp for a breath. "What the –"

She's got good reflexes, Desmond finds – because the moment she gets her bearings she kicks out sharply and knocks the feet from under him, sending him toppling over and into the floor. He barely manages to squeak out, "Wait, wait, Cloud sent me!" before she can slam her fist into his nose and probably pulverise it.

"What?" Tifa demands.

"Cloud, he was worried, told me to tell you he's trying to keep his promise," Desmond says, holding up his hands. "I'm friendly? Please?"

"I –" Tifa says and then looks around her, confused, swaying a little. "Oh, those sly sons of bitches drugged me!"

"Yep," Desmond says, quickly scrambling back and putting a safe distance between him and her. "Seems like standard MO for these guys, I'm afraid. I was going to just check up on you on Cloud's behalf, see if you got everything in hand, but, uh."

"... Did you kill those men?" Tifa asks, spotting the thugs on the floor.

"Yeah," Desmond admits and stands up. "Sorry, didn't mean to potentially mess up your operation here, but seriously, the shit these guys were talking about…"

Tifa shakes her head, standing up. "Right, right – who are you again?" she asks. "How do you know Cloud?"

"Met him when he fell into my cousin's church," Desmond says and offers his hand. "Desmond Miles – nice to meet you, wish it was under better circumstances."

"Tifa Lockhart," Tifa agrees and looks down. "I uh – where is he, is he here?"

"Back in the Wall Market. Not much for covert operations, with the amount of noise he makes just walking around," Desmond says. "Anyway, want to get out of here?"

"No, I – I have a job. Don Corneo's men were asking about Avalanche in Sector Seven," Tifa says, shaking her head. "I'm here to figure out why – maybe Don Corneo is interested in backing us up, or –"

"Ah, no. I got bad news for you – it's because the Turks asked him to find you. Or hired him to, or threatened, I'm not really sure," Desmond admits. "Pretty sure they're not hunting you down in order to join."

Tifa stares at him and then sighs. "I was worried about that," she mutters, her shoulders slumping. "Well, if that's the case, I need to find out what he knows – and what he's told ShinRa so far. And deal with him, if it comes down to it," she adds in a mutter.

… Well, then. Desmond considers Tifa thoughtfully. She's got a martial artist's build, and that leg sweep… "How good a climber are you?" he asks thoughtfully. "Because I might just have a way to get a bit of one on one time with him."

Tifa, it turns out, is an excellent climber – once she's kicked off her high heels and ripped off the hem of her skirt, anyway. She's also a quick study, following Desmond's movements closely and picking them up on the fly, soon moving up in the rafters like it was something she did all the time.

"Are you a martial artist?" she asks quietly, giving his stolen armour and sword a curious look. "Were you trained by a Wutaian?"

"Nah, a Florentine," Desmond answers, wondering if Wutai is the place with a vaguely eastern asian aesthetic Don Corneo is fetishizing with his... everything, really. He thinks Aerith had mentioned Wutai once – and now people are under the impression Desmond is from Wutai… "Were you?"

"Mmhmm," Tifa answers, considering him and then apparently deciding to concentrate on the matter at hand. "Now what?"

"See that grate over there? It leads right to Corneo's bedroom," Desmond points. "The last I saw him, he was right there. Wanna go say hello?"

"You know what, I think I do," Tifa says, her expression darkening.

Before they can make it, though, there's a commotion outside – people shouting. Desmond and Tifa freeze where they sit in the rafters as some thugs run past below them, heading outside, demanding to know what is going on.

"We have the other two candidates – approved by Madame M and Andrea!"

"Shit," Tifa murmurs and then nudges at Desmond. "Come on, before word reaches Corneo."

"We have to be quick about this," Desmond answers. "How do you feel about straight up assassination?"

"This isn't the time for jokes, now come on!"

Desmond refrains from arguing and instead follows her to the grate. After checking that Corneo is still there – he is playing with his phone – they quietly get the grate open. Desmond looks in with Eagle Vision to check there's no one else and then whispers to Tifa, "All clear – but that carpet over there? Don't stand on it. It's a trap."

"Oh? Good eye," Tifa says and then vaults down.

Don Corneo squeals once, before Tifa's bare foot silences him – one quick kick to the gut and other to the air right in front of his nose, and the guy melts.

"Oh? Ohh, you must be her then, they did say you're a feisty one!" the Don says and then lets out a sound that can only be called a neigh. "You couldn't wait, could you – couldn't wait for your date with the Don, oh, I know your type – I like it, I like assertive women – they're so much fun… to break!"

"Are you for real," Desmond mutters incredulously and Tifa let's out a horrified squeak as the sleazeball licks her foot.

"Ugh, that's disgusting!" Tifa snaps, dancing quickly back and wiping her foot hurriedly on the floor. "What is wrong with you?"

"Oh, I am a naughty boy, the naughtiest – why don't you come here and punish me – wait – what's he doing here?" Corneo demands, finally spotting Desmond, pointing a budget finger at him.

"What, you're not into voyeurism?" Desmond asks flatly and pulls out his sword, pointing at the guy. "How about knife play, hmm?"

Corneo lets out a peep, and Tifa holds up her fist. "We are here to ask some questions. Why have you been asking about Avalanche and what did you tell ShinRa?"

"Wh-wha-what?" the Don asks, scurrying back. "I don't know what you're talking –"

Desmond steps forward, and presses the katana's tip to the man's soft gut, just hard enough.

"I – I mean –" the Don swallows and then rallies, eyes flickering around the room for solution. "I'm not going to tell you anything – not one word – there's nothing in it for me –"

"You know how long a man can survive with his stomach sliced open?" Desmond asks conversationally, turning the blade carefully. "If I do it just right, I can spill your guts nice and clean, and you will live long enough to try to put them back in."

Tifa gives him an alarmed look, and the blubbering mess of a crime boss goes pale.

"So," Desmond asks pleasantly. "Do you want to spill your guts – or shall I?"

The Don draws a breath, obviously to shout, and Desmond gives the sword a little push, hard enough to draw blood. There's a squeal – and the Don spills his guts.

"They want to know where Avalanche hideout is – they're going to deal away with them – the moment they know where it is, they will stamp them out, all public like –!"

"Public like?" Tifa asks, frowning. "What, like with a bomb?"

"Well, no, that's your thing, isn't it? Two reactors down already, that's worse than the old Avalanche ever managed – worse even than they ever let Wutai get and, why, that's quite bad, isn't it, for ShinRa?" Corneo asks, grimacing, eyes flicking between Desmond and Tifa. "Now, to learn more, you have to promise to not kill me! Otherwise I might as well keep me mouth shut and die like a man –"

"Die then," Desmond says, gripping his sword tighter. "I'm sure your boys will talk –"

"Wait, wait, wait, my boys don't know anything –!"

"Tell us, and we'll leave," Tifa says, glancing at Desmond and nodding him to pull the sword back.

Desmond, a little reluctantly, does.

Clapping his hand over the wound in his belly, Corneo squirms. "You could offer me a heal – you have to have Materia on you –"

"What did you mean?" Tifa says. "What is ShinRa planning?"

"Che," the Don scoffs. "They're going to do something big – and blame it on you, of course. That's what ShinRa does, everyone knows what, but we buy in anyway, because ShinRa is the only game in town – and the only game ShinRa has left, well. It's hard to market yourself as the saviour, if you've got no enemies to fight, isn't it?"

"I – I don't get it," Tifa says, confused.

"The original Avalanche was funded by ShinRa – everyone knows that," Corneo laughs. "And they never got much done, did they – nothing that ShinRa didn't first approve, anyway. You lot, though, you're running around, doing things without ShinRa's approval and succeeding, and they can't allow that, can they? So they're going to squash ya. Like a bug."

Tifa blinks, shaking her head slowly. "No, that's not – old Avalanche was funded by –"

"Wutai, hmm?"

Desmond is probably missing a thing or two here, but he knows manipulation tactics when he sees them. "What's ShinRa planning to do to this current Avalanche then?" he asks.

Corneo grins. "They'll make an example out of 'em. And since explosions are Avalanche's thing, they're going for something bigger."

"What, like carpet bombing?"

"Bigger."

Desmond frowns. They wouldn't nuke their own city, right…?

"Oh you slow sons of bitches – they're going to drop the Plate on you!" Corneo snaps. "Squish you all, two birds, one stone. Devilishly clever, if I say so myself – now –"

Whatever he means to say is drowned out by the sound of the bedroom door slamming open. Corneo neighs in victory while Desmond and Tifa turn to look, both prepared for a fight – but it's not the man's lackeys.

It's Aerith in a long red dress, her makeup immaculate, wielding a foldable chair like a weapon.

"Desmond – Tifa! There you are!" she says, sighing with relief. "We were worried – come on, we have to go find Zack!"

"What?" Desmond asks, confused. "How did you – wait, you already lost him?"

"No, yes – what do you mean, already? The Whispers whisked him away, the moment you left," Aerith says, dropping the chair, and motioning to herself, to her dress. "They made us go through the motions, just like last time, and we couldn't go after him – but as soon as we got within your range again they fled – but now Zack's missing, and –"

Behind Desmond, Corneo makes a lunge for the bedside table, reaching for a gun. Desmond and Tifa move almost at the same time, Tifa kicking the guy's hand and Desmond putting his sword under the guy's chin. "Don't move."

"I was just reaching for my breath mints?" Corneo tries, wincing.

"Come on, we have to go!" Aerith says, motioning to them to follow her.

Tifa nods to Desmond. "You go – I have some more questions for this one," she says, turning to Corneo. "Like when, exactly, are they going to drop the Plate?"

"I-I don't know – soon?" 

"Not good enough," Tifa says, holding her fist to him. "When –"

"Oh, it's going to be later today," Aerith says. "If it will happen, who knows – we might be able to stop it this time, but we got to go now! Cloud's out there, fighting alone, and he doesn't have his gear – we have to go help him –!"

"Wait – what do you mean this time –?"

"Come on you two! Now!"

Tifa hesitates, looking at Corneo. "What about him?" she asks.

"Oh, for the love of –!" Aerith throws up her hand, "Desmond, would you be a dear?"

"With pleasure," Desmond says and steps forward. Tifa lets out a little sound of shock as Desmond puts his hand to the squirming Don's neck – and then his hidden blade through it. "Rest in peace, you piece of shit," he says as Corneo gapes, gurgles – and goes quiet.

"There," Aerith says with satisfaction and takes Tifa's hand in hers. "Hello, Tifa, I'm Aerith, I'm Desmond's cousin, Cloud's friend – let's go save him, okay?"

"Okay?" Tifa answers and they run out, Desmond hanging back just long enough to steal Corneo's phone – and his wallet, for a good measure – before following. If he'd known what was waiting for them, though, he might have picked up the pace, though.

In the front hall of the mansion there's an extremely pissed off Cloud Strife, welding a baseball bat wrapped in barb wire, positively kicking ass in a dress.

Chapter Text

The whole thing is an unmitigated disaster. There's really no other way to put it, and even if there was, Cloud, personally, would not put it in any other way. It is an absolute and total disaster, and the only thing that makes it even mildly better is the fact that there's no shortage of people to take it out on.

The thugs in Corneo's employ seem never ending, and the fact that no one of them takes him seriously makes curb stomping them into the mansion floor that much more satisfying. It's aggravating too, sure, because they keep leering at him until the moment he puts them down, either with a baseball bat to the face, or with a boot to various soft squishy bits.

"Aw, baby, come on, don't be like that," someone says, and Cloud slams the stolen baseball bat into his guts and really, really misses his sword. A hit like that with a sword would've been mortal – the bat just breaks a few ribs and sends the guy hacking his guts out. Even a follow up hit to the side of the face doesn't deliver quite the impact as a nice bit of steel would've.

The worst thing is, Cloud doesn't even know where his damned sword is – nor his clothes.

"Cloud! I got Desmond and Tifa!" Aerith shouts, holding the long hem of her red dress in one hand while coming down the stairs. With her other hand she's holding Tifa's hand, bringing her along with the insistence Aerith seems to do just about everything with. Desmond – is nowhere to be seen.

Cloud wastes precious seconds looking at Tifa to make sure she's alright – and in that moment someone sidles up behind him, and Cloud can fucking hear their leer. "Alright, now, missy, time for night-night –" the guy says, and Cloud whirls around –

Just in time to see Desmond landing heavily on the thug's back, putting the guy quickly and efficiently to the floor. "Hey," Desmond says, pulling his hand from the guy's neck, revealing a bloodied blade that quickly vanishes in his sleeve. "What happened to you?"

"The fucking Whispers," Cloud growls, gripping his bat tighter, just daring the guy to say something.

Desmond blinks, standing up. "The dementors put you two in dresses?" he asks, glancing at Aerith. "What?"

Cloud snarls at that and then whirls around – there're more of Don Corneo's men streaming in, seemingly coming out of the damned walls. "Shut up and just fight."

"Yes, sir," Desmond says and then pulls out a sword. "You want this?"

Cloud glances at him, at the slender, Wutaian blade he's holding out to him to handle first. It's a flimsy bit of folded steel, compared to the heft of Cloud's usual weapons, and though Cloud knows pretty intimately how strong Wutaian blades can be… that's only when you know how to fight with them. Cloud would probably just end up snapping the thing in half with his first swing. "If you can use it, keep it," he says and hefts the baseball bat in hand. "I can manage with this, until I find something better."

"If you say so," Desmond says, and then switches the sword back around with a fluent, expert swing. "Right, then."

Then the thugs attack, and it becomes a complete cacophony of shouts and screams and curses. Stepping forward and winding back, Cloud sends the nearest thug to the floor, while Desmond moves up on his side, dodging a wild swing by another attacker and slicing the guy's neck with a fluent, skilled move. Together they advance to Tifa and Aerith, who are being crowded by a few more thugs.

Tifa is standing in Aerith's defence, her fists up, the hem of her dress tucked up into a knot. She puts a guy down with a kick and sends another reeling back with a punch, but there are more guys around them than she can handle – they're trying to pen the women in, forcing them to back away and into a corner…

Cloud slams the bat into one of them and Desmond stabs another, and to the side someone shouts, "Oh, fuck this shit –" and brings magic into the mix. There's a swell of heat, that tell-tale tinge of power in the air – and then a burst of fire. The spell hits Cloud to the side, heat and pain washing over him as he swings his bat wildly through the fire, but the caster is too far away to hit.

Thank fuck magical fire can't actually set shit on fire, though – because if it did, the damned dress would be so much tinder right now. Still, that one attack is enough.

"They got no gear!" the caster shouts gleefully. "Use magic on them! Shoot them!"

"Oh, no you don't – " Tifa growls and lunges forward – but it's too late. The other thugs are quickly charging up their bangles, their Materia equipped weaponry – and with more than a dozen people casting spells all at once…

Cloud rushes forward, interrupting one of them, knocking another off their feet – Tifa is doing the same, as is Desmond, but it's not enough. A moment later the hall is lit with fire and lightning, hitting them from seemingly every which way, sending Tifa flying off her feet and Cloud to the floor as a full fucking thunder lances through him.

"Ha, we got them! Keep at it – they got no way to answer!"

What a pathetic way to die, Cloud thinks furiously, struggling to his feet. No weapons, no gear, no Materia, in a fucking dress, spell-bombed by petty criminals… There's a guy in front of him, grinning, holding a machine gun to Cloud's head – and then there's suddenly power, healing power coursing through him.

In the corner Aerith is praying, surrounded by intense green light, sending sparkles and wisps of power everywhere as she, somehow without any Materia whatsoever, heals them all.

Cloud doesn't waste it – swinging the bat into his attacker's knees, knocking him off his feet and following it with another downward swing, putting him down permanently. Tifa is quickly back in the fighting too, she's doing some decent damage – but there are still more thugs coming in, more attackers, and they're already charging up spells –

"Okay, you know what, fuck it," Desmond grunts from the floor, wiping blood from his lip, and then he too is surrounded by a vivid glow of power. Unlike Aerith, Desmond's glow is solidly yellow, almost golden, which makes Cloud expect some sort of quick attack – it's the colour of command Materia…  but no.

Desmond's expression tightens – and then he's no longer alone. Three figures appear from the glow, three hooded humanoid shapes in mostly white, armed with various weapons, with knives, swords, axes. As Cloud struggles to his feet, the summons launch out from Desmond, attacking the thugs surrounding him – and putting them down.

"Fuck, you said they had no gear!" one of the thugs squeals, backing away.

"I meant the chicks – I don't know who the fuck that guy is –"

Cloud sets aside the knowledge that Desmond has no Materia and instead uses the surprise to his advantage, going after the thugs Desmond's summons leave vulnerable. Tifa is doing the same, using the chaos to her advantage to deliver some devastating hits and kicks – and in the corner, Aerith is casting more spells, again, somehow with no Materia.

It's a long fight, close despite their frankly supernatural aid. Desmond summons his white-clad defenders more than once, just spamming the battle with his summons, over and over. He's using them like a weapon based skill, Cloud thinks, and then sets that aside too in order to concentrate. He can't channel his abilities through the bat – it's just wood, no Materia core – but he'll be damned if he doesn't do his part to put these assholes down.

At the end, the front hall of Don Corneo's mansion is littered with bodies, and they're all breathing hard. Aerith looks exhausted, Tifa's knuckles are red, Desmond is barely even standing anymore, and Cloud's hands are shaking – but they've won.

"We won," Tifa says slowly, and then punches the air. "Fuck, yeah, we won!"

"Yay," Desmond says, leaning onto a pillar, panting for breath.

"And now we gotta go after Zack," Aerith says, stumbling over the bodies to join them. "The Whispers – we need to go after them."

"Right," Cloud says, swinging the bat and glancing over himself. Despite his hopes of seeing the damned thing ruined, the dress looks barely singed. "Guess there's no time to find out where our clothes went?" he asks, annoyed.

"I – " Aerith hesitates, making a face – and in that moment her cousin collapses to his knees. "Desmond!"

"Fuck, I feel dizzy," the guy says, as Aerith catches him before he can fall flat on his face. "I think – there might be a limit – to how many times I can – "

"MP exhaustion – you used up all your reserves. Hang in there, I have – " Aerith says, reaching for something not there. "Damn it – I had an ether, but it was in my – "

"Don't worry about it," Desmond pants, dangerously listing to the side. "Just give me a – a moment –"

Aerith lets out an alarmed noise. "No, don't you dare pass out now, we need you to keep the Whispers away!"

Desmond gives her a faint grin and then closes his eyes. He doesn't quite pass out, but it's a close thing, it looks like – he's hanging off a thread.

Cloud exchanges glances with Tifa, who is looking a little wide-eyed. "Cloud?" she asks, an amazed smile teasing at her lips as she looks him up and down, and Cloud decides abruptly that whatever her reaction to seeing him in a dress is going to be, he doesn't want to hear it.

He turns to Aerith and Desmond instead. "Did you see which way they took Zack?" he asks, stomping over one of the thugs on his way to them.

"Back towards the playground, I think," Aerith says, trying awkwardly to keep her cousin upright.

"And Desmond keeps the damned things away?"

"Yeah – they don't like him – "

Cloud nods and crouches down to pick the listing man up. Desmond lets out a faint oof as Cloud throws him over his shoulder. At least he doesn't weigh as much as Zack, Cloud thinks, and picks up Desmond's slender Wutai blade in his free hand. "Come on, then. Let's go."

"Right," Aerith says, standing up quickly.

"Wait," Tifa says, hurrying after them. "What about Sector Seven?"

"What about it?" Cloud asks.

"Corneo said that the Turks are going to drop the Plate on it! To squash Avalanche!"

Cloud throws her a look. "What?"

"Before Aerith came, he told us – Desmond and me, I mean – " Tifa starts to explain, but Aerith interrupts, throwing the mansion doors open.

"We might be able to stop it – and we're going right that way," she says, taking Tifa's hand. "Zack was taken towards the playground, the one near the gates between Sectors Six and Seven – so we should be able to get him, and then head straight for Sector Seven and stop the Turks – "

"Wait, are you serious?" Cloud asks. "They're going to drop the Plate?"

"They did in the future," Aerith agrees, running out. "Now come on!"

"What?" Tifa asks. "What do you mean – Aerith?"

It's a very confusing run through the Wall Market. At least the damned ghosts are gone now and no longer getting in their way, but the people hanging around are barely any worse. They're all staring at them as they pass them by, some of them actually stopping to gape, one man tripping over his feet and into a lamp post. Mostly they're staring at Cloud, he's pretty sure of that – staring at what they assume is a dainty little woman, carrying a man twice her size on her shoulder.

Cloud has never hated anything as much as he hates all of this.

"So," Desmond grunts, awkward, while ahead of them Tifa tries to drill Aerith for answers. With how tall Desmond is, how short Cloud is in comparison – if it wasn't for the dress, he'd be face to face with Cloud's ass. "Fancy meeting you like this."

Cloud grimaces. "Say something and I will drop you."

"I think I could walk?" Desmond offers weakly. "Also I might throw up on you."

Cloud promptly sets him down – Desmond doesn't throw up, though going by how green he is, it's a close thing. He can walk, which is something – but judging by the looks of it, running is a bit beyond him right now. And Aerith and Tifa are already getting ways ahead of them.

"Sorry," Desmond offers, swaying. "I really didn't think –"

Fuck it, Cloud thinks, shoves the Wutai blade back in Desmond's sheath and then scoops him up – this time in a bridal carry, which is little less likely to make the guy sick. "Never used that much magic before?" Cloud asks, while setting off in a run after the women.

"I barely even know what it is I did," Desmond admits. "I've only been able to do it for like… two days."

"Right," Cloud says, shaking his head – and almost trips over the damned hems. "Fuck, can you grab the dress? It's getting in my way."

"Yeah, sure – " Desmond agrees, reaching down and getting the hems out of Cloud's way. "How did this happen, anyway?"

"Hell if I know," Cloud mutters, picking up the pace now that there's no more danger of tripping over himself. "One moment I was trying to find Aerith and Zack, and the next the whole place was full of Whispers. They kept herding us around, and Zack was whisked away."

"And then they put you in a dress?"

"Aerith said it would be easiest to get it just over with," Cloud says through gritted teeth. "Because apparently this happened before, and they wanted to make it happen again and the quicker it did, the quicker we could get away from them."

"… right," Desmond says. "Okay."

"I'm not lying," Cloud says, casting him a glare.

"No, I believe you," Desmond assures him. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that the manifestations of fate demanded a dress-up. Of all things, that's important to the timeline. Wild."

Cloud gives him a suspicious, narrow-eyed look. Going by some of the things Aerith had said… "You believe her, then, when she says she's from the future?"

"Oh, she told you?"

"Yeah," Cloud says and grimaces. She'd told him while they were getting their makeup done, which was – what it was. "You believe her?"

"I mean. It's not really a matter of belief?" Desmond asks and shrugs – almost knocking Cloud off balance. "Sorry," he says, and winds an arm around Cloud's shoulder for balance. "Anyway. I know she's from the future. I was there when she time-travelled. Don't really have a leg to stand on, criticising her time-travelling shenanigans."

"… right. You're from the future too," Cloud says flatly. "Sure."

"Another planet, actually. Aerith sort of summoned me," Desmond agrees and looks at him. "Sorry about this, by the way – but man, you're really strong, huh. Do I weigh, like, anything to you?"

Cloud considers the weight and then shakes his head. "Not really."

"That is really cool," Desmond says, grinning dopily at him.

Trying not to react – this close, he can see the individual lines of gold in Desmond's eyes, and the weight of his arm around his shoulders – Cloud clears his throat and quickly looks away. "It's the SOLDIER enhancements," he says, dismissive. "We're all pretty strong."

Desmond grins a little wider. "Uh-huh."

"Guys, I see them!" Aerith calls from up ahead. "Come on!"

Cloud looks up, There's the whirlpool of ghosts before them, concentrating around the playground up ahead. They're spinning around a downed figure trying to fight them off – Zack, holding Cloud's Iron Blade in hand, trying to fend the Whispers back.

"Zack!"

The other SOLDIER looks up in relief, as Tifa stumbles and then gathers herself, punching one of the spectres, Aerith ducking past it to get at Zack. "Cloud, over here!" Aerith shouts, waving a hand at the ghosts while quickly going to pick Zack up, or try to, anyway. "Bring Desmond over here – he'll scare them off – "

"Sure," Cloud answers, more confused than anything, and jogs after them.

For a moment it really does look like the spectres are being spooked off by them – or by Desmond. They recoil away from them, wailing, as Cloud gets closer – but then they rally again, and a couple actually make sort of aborted lunges at them, trying to bar their way.

"Fuck," Desmond says, wincing. "I think – I think me using up my juice actually affects –"

What it affects, Cloud isn't sure – a wave of spectres rushes at them, and he almost loses his footing, stepping back half a step to regain his balance. They're whirling all around them now, sensing a weakness – trying to isolate Desmond and Cloud away from Aerith, Zack and Tifa –

"What do we do?" Cloud shouts over the rush – it's like a hurricane, concentrated around them.

"I don't – I don't know –" Desmond admits, straining to do something. "Lemme try something – can you set me –?"

Cloud quickly sets him on his feet, gripping him by the waist to keep him from collapsing, and the guy frowns, concentrating, low-lidded eyes simmering with power. "It's the Lifestream, " Desmond murmurs. "It's all Lifestream – and mine's different, coded – "

Pulling Desmond's sword from its sheath, Cloud tries to swing at the spectres – but like before, it has no effect. On the other side of the wall, Tifa and Aerith are trying to fight them too, while Zack catches his breath and stands up, Cloud's sword held in both hands. It's like they're fighting a whirling, invisible wall, though – even the spells Zack tries, using Cloud's Materia, have little to no effect on it.

Desmond hums, his hand gripping Cloud's shoulder, and there's a rush of magic. There is that strange, Materia-less summons again – just the one this time, though. A hooded man in white robes, with leather bracers and red sash under a heavy belt – he's holding something in his hand, a bronze ball, lifting it up, setting it aglow…

There's a buildup of power, and under Cloud's and Desmond's feet a magic ward reaching out of Desmond – though unlike with Aerith, whose wards are like enormous blooming flowers, this one is like circuitry, golden and glowing. The power builds and builds, like some sort of machine powering up, the circuitry glowing brighter and brighter, and then –

It crashes down in golden lances of power, cutting through Whispers, splitting them apart.

Desmond slumps against Cloud, and as he passes out the summon disappears, as does the magic ward. The wind picked up by the Whispers disappears too, leaving Tifa, Aerith and Zack standing in the flickers of grey mist and floating golden shards. None of them know quite how to react, judging by their expressions. Under their feet, the ground has been singed – burned in the shape of circuitry.

For a moment no one says anything – they just stare.

"What was that?" Zack asks finally, looking between Aerith and Cloud. "And what are you wearing?!"

Cloud shakes his head and looks down at Desmond, head hanging forward, knees bent – the only thing keeping him upright is Cloud's arm around his waist. Quickly, Cloud checks his pulse and breathing, just as Aerith hurries over to check up on him.

"He's alright. I think. Just passed out," Cloud says quietly.

"Yeah. It's MP exhaustion," Aerith says faintly, checking Desmond's eyes. "It uses MP when he does that."

"How is he summoning without Materia?" Cloud asks, confused, and gives her a look. "And how can you use spells without Materia?"

Aerith shrugs, helpless. "We're Ancients," she explains. "It's what we do."

"Uh, you're what?"

Tifa looks between them and then shakes her head. "That's really – really fascinating, really, it is, and I'm sorry he passed out, I hope he's okay," she says, sounding both incredibly confused and resolutely determined, and looks towards the gates. "But Don Corneo said that the Turks are going to drop the Plate on Sector Seven. We need to do something – I don't know if we have the time for this."

Aerith shakes her head and looks away. "Something's changed," she says, looking up at the Plate. "Something's different. I think those Whispers – Desmond didn't just send them away. I think he just… destroyed them. Or changed them – or –"

Tifa looks at her, then at Cloud and then shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I have to go. I'm going," she says. "Are you coming?"

Cloud hesitates, looking at Desmond, at Aerith, at Zack, who looks just as confused as he feels. Then Cloud bends down to get his arm under Desmond's knees, to pick his listless weight up again. "Yeah, I am."

Aerith shares a look with Zack, who does a gesture that's between a shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulder. "Sure," he says. "What the hell."

"Then let's move."

Chapter Text

"So, uh, I'm thinking things went down while we were separated?" Zack asks while they run, casting glances at Cloud. He knows he probably shouldn't, what with Cloud's condition and all, but between the sheer irritation on the blondie's face, the fact that he's carrying Desmond and struggling with a dress, he looks suitably distracted not to be overwhelmed by flashbacks.

"You think?" Cloud asks, giving him a look. "I want that back, by the way."

Zack grins, swinging the sword before resting it over his shoulder as they run. "Trade it for the Buster Sword? That's where we're headed, right – to the place where you left it?"

"Tch. Yeah," Cloud says, his expression pinched – it would look a whole lot more intimidating if he didn't have pigtails, corset, and a pretty bow in his hair. "You can have it – if we make it."

"Sweet. So, what happened, exactly? Aerith?"

"Well, the Whispers harried us along, trying their silly best to preserve the timeline," Aerith says, panting as they run, holding the hem of her dress in one hand. Zack has no idea how she's running so well in heels, but damn, it looks good. "How about you, did they hurt you?"

"No, just harassed me along, too, I guess. I don't know what they were trying to do, to be honest," Zack admits. "I guess they wanted me out of there because I wasn't here, in the original timeline?"

"Got it in one!"

"What are you talking about?" the weirdly familiar black-haired chick in a blue cocktail dress asks – she's running ahead of all of them, neither hampered by her dress, nor carrying much anything. "What do you mean, original timeline?"

"Oh, you know, time travel," Aerith says cheerfully, waving a hand. "Hello, I am from the future. I'm here to stop the end of the world!"

"Uh… what? Um, Cloud?" the chick asks, worriedly.

"Don't ask me," Cloud answers, lifting Desmond slightly higher, causing the guy's head to loll to his shoulder. "I just met these guys."

"Liar – we met on the Plate the day of the first reactor bombing," Aerith says cheerfully. "You and Desmond did good deeds – he told me."

"Yeah, and it was just as confusing as this is," Cloud mutters, and shakes his head to the black-haired chick. "Never mind, Tifa – just… never mind."

"Um. I think I do mind, a little?" the chick says, and Zack remembers finally where he knows her from. Nibelheim. Which is… wow. She survived? And moved to Midgar? Small world.

 Tifa continues, "Aerith, you said the Plate dropped in the future – what did you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. They dropped the Plate in the future," Aerith answers. "I still don't know why, aside from them wanting to destroy Avalanche. Every time, it destroys a whole lot more than Avalance – and it doesn't even do much to Avalanche, really, so the whole thing is just, so stupid – but –"

"What do you mean every time?"

"I mean the two other times – this is my third time," Aerith says and offers her an exhausted smile. "I'm sorry, it's really confusing and complicated – but maybe this time we can stop it! I'm pretty sure we're early, this time around."

Tifa doesn't seem to know how to take that, and boy, Zack can't blame her. But he can compartmentalise. "Right – how do they drop the Plate? The support pillar?" he asks.

"Yes, that's right," Aerith says. "Reno and Rude will initiate some sort of self-destruct –"

"The same Reno from the church?" Cloud asks, looking at her. "Why'd you tell Desmond not to kill him if this is what he does?"

Aerith makes a face. "He has the chance to be a decent guy, alright, with a push – it's complicated, and besides, if it's not Reno and Rude then it's someone else, it's not like there's a shortage of Turks out there –"

"I don't understand – you know the guy?" Tifa asks, incredulous. "The guy who is trying to kill the entire Sector Seven?!"

"It's –"

"Complicated," Zack says. "Back to the matter at hand – the support pillar. We should head for it, first thing, right? They can't blow it up if they can't get at it, right? So that's where we're going. What's the fastest route there?"

Tifa blows out a breath, but lets it be. "Right – through there, and straight on, it's along the way," she says. "But it's usually guarded by ShinRa infantry – "

"I think we can handle a few guards, right, Cloud, Aerith?" Zack asks.

"Right," Cloud answers. "But what's to stop them from dropping the Plate some other way? Or just shooting the pillar with missiles – or – "

"Maybe we should sound an evacuation, somehow?" Tifa asks. "Just in case?"

"Great idea," Aerith says and then makes a face. "How do we do that?"

Tifa pulls out a PHS. "With some help."

Why drop the Plate? ShinRa had put more money than Zack thinks anyone has ever put into anything into making Midgar. Decades of work, mountains of gil, enough Mako to power the planet three times over, never mind countless lives had gone into Midgar's construction. The crowning jewel of ShinRa, its greatest achievement, its pride and joy.

The Turks wouldn't be able to do something like dropping the Plate without President Shinra's orders, so, it would have to be the big-man himself behind the whole thing. Dropping the Plate to kill some eco-terrorists is… a pretty damn expensive way of getting rid of enemies, especially when sending a handful of SOLDIERs should do the trick, and say what you want of the Shinra family – they're not idiots.

Zack might've not been the best student, but he'd done enough patrolling above the Plate to know the sheer toll dropping a whole sector would have. Tens of thousands of people live in each sector, and more below. Dropping the Plate… would kill over hundred of thousand people. That kind of toll – just to kill what looks like a pretty small terrorist cell? Yeah. No.

There has to be another reason. But why… why would Shinra want to drop the Plate in the first place? Or rather… why would ShinRa want to kill all those people…?

"Almost there, you guys," Tifa says, pointing up ahead. "There, that's the pillar."

"Doesn't look like there's anything going on up there," Cloud comments, as they slow their pace to a jog to see.

"There wasn't the last time, either. The Turks just flew in on a helicopter, I think," Aerith says, peering up.

"You think?" Tifa demands.

"I was busy being kidnapped, so I don't really know," Aerith admits, shaking her head. "You sent me to get Marlene from Seventh Heaven. Which, speaking of – "

"A friend of mine, Marle, is getting her," Tifa says, shaking her head. "I hope she gets there in time – I hope it won't even be necessary. God, this is so messed up – Barret! Biggs – Jessie! Guys, over here!"

She's waving at a group of people running towards the pillar, led by an enormous black man with a gun for an arm. "Tifa – there you are. And – what?" he stops, staring at the rest of them. "Friends of yours?"

"Oh, well," Tifa says, hesitating. "Some of them, uh –"

"Oh, my, I know that face! That pretty, pretty face!" the armoured woman with them says in utter gleeful delight, jumping ahead – towards Cloud. "Cloud, you look incre –"

"Don't even start," Cloud snarls, stepping back away from her and, funnily, bringing unconscious Desmond closer, all but using him as a shield. "We have more important things to worry about, don't we?"

"Cloud? Is that really you? Well," one of the men says, snorting. "I wouldn't have thought –"

"Shut it, Wedge."

"Is it right that ShinRa is planning on dropping the Plate on us?" a third man asks, shaking his head on the others. "We've had some Turk activity, and Don Corneo's men have been asking around, but – "

"We heard it from Don Corneo himself," Tifa says. "And I don't think he was making it up. And Aerith here has, uh, insider knowledge, sort of. She says they're going to take out the support pillar with a self-destruct."

The guy looks at her, at the rest of them, then up at the pillar. "Well," he says. "If I wanted to destroy the sector, that's how I'd do it. But why? That's going to kill way more people above the Plate than below – "

Zack folds his arms, peering up. "I, uh… I might have a theory," he says, and grimaces, glancing at Aerith. "What are the chances of ShinRa knowing about the Lifestream – about what's coming?"

"They know," she says with a serene sort of gravitas.

"So they know that the Lifestream's about to run dry. Midgar uses… a lot of it, every day," Zack muses and points up. "Drop a sector, and that's a whole sector's worth of Mako you no longer need to pump. Drop a sector, and you're killing about… a hundred, hundred and fifty thousand people, in one fell swoop? If you believe in the Lifestream theory, which I guess ShinRa does, even if they don't admit it… well, doesn't that kind of sound like… a boost?"

"What?" the black guy asks. "A – boost?"

"Where do people go when they die? The Lifestream. What does Shinra need to get Mako from? The Lifestream. What's running out? …also the Lifestream," Zack says and grimaces, really wishing this stuff didn't make some kind of sense to him, but… it does.

Guess he learned something from Genesis and Hollander, after all.

"… well, shit," one of the guys – Avalanche members, Zack's guessing – says, and the rest exchange grim looks.

"That… makes a horrible sort of sense," Aerith whispers. "But it doesn't work like that. You can't just… kill people and add them to the Lifestream, it – it takes time, it's…" she shakes her head, hands squeezing helplessly into fists. "It doesn't work like that."

"Shouldn't they be thanking us for blowing up the reactors, if that's the case?" the black guy demands. "We were doing them a damn favour!"

"I don't think it works like that, either," Tifa sighs, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter why they're doing it, or what they hope to get out of it – what matters is that we stop it."

Zack hums in agreement, even though he has his doubts now. Glancing around, he can tell he's not the only one.

They might be able to stop it, right now. But like Cloud said – what's to stop ShinRa from using missiles? Worse yet, what's to stop them from dropping another Sector Plate? If ShinRa's ultimate goal is to drop a Plate, and stamping out terrorists is just a convenient excuse to do it... well, they can come up with other excuses, for other Plates. And if they think that killing a whole lot of people is a cure to their diminishing Mako resource, or worse yet, if they know the planet is dying and think that's the solution?

There'd be nothing to stop them from killing every living thing on the planet, just to save their own hides.

Zack frowns. "Aerith, how much time do you think we have, until they try it?" he asks, peering up at the Plate.

"I – I don't know. It was evening when the Plate fell – we're early, now," Aerith says, wringing her hands. "I think so, anyway – it's… I'm not sure?"

"What are you thinking?" Cloud asks, not quite looking at him head on, but definitely watching him – there's that pained furrow on his brow.

"I'm thinking that maybe instead of trying to stop things here we should go to the source," Zack says and nods, looking at him, at Aerith. It's the one thing he swore not to do – once they made it to Midgar, he thought, they'd keep their heads down. But this… "The only real way to stop this is to stop the people making the orders."

"You mean… President Shinra?" the black guy asks. "You wanna go up there and, what, ask nicely that please, Mr. President, can you not?"

Zack hums. "It's either that, or we evacuate the whole city," he says, shrugging. "And I can't see that happening."

"But if we stop the sector dropping…" the guy Cloud called Wedge says slowly.

The guy beside him shakes his head. "No, he might be right. If they're after dropping a sector, and we're just a convenient excuse, then… it's only going to be a matter of time before they succeed, no matter what we do here. This sector or another - if it doesn't matter which one it is…"

The black guy scratches at his beard. "Shit," he says then and looks at Zack. "I don't even know who the hell you are – you got SOLDIER eyes. Why should we trust you?"

Zack considers and then nods to Cloud and grins. "I'm with him?" he offers.

The black guy doesn't look particularly impressed, giving Cloud a once over. Cloud, who is still very much in a dress. "Right," the guy says, shaking his head. "Why should we trust you?"

Cloud rolls his eyes. "I'd think you'd be all for it," he says, lifting Desmond a little more securely in his arms, leaning his head back when the guy's head lolls towards his. "Killing President Shinra seems right up your alley. And who has a better chance at it than a pair of SOLDIERs?"

"Hey, whoa, killing President Shinra?" Wedge asks. "Isn't that a little extreme?"

"So is dropping the Plate," Aerith comments thoughtfully, resting her hands at her hips. There's a considering look on her face – which Zack has quickly come to realise portents doom, "You know – it's not… the worst idea. I mean, President Shinra is going to die today – or tomorrow? Anyway, he's going to die anyway. And I have a way into ShinRa Building, pretty much. I bet we could just walk right in – two SOLDIERs, bringing in the, you know… assets ShinRa has been looking for. It's actually pretty perfect."

Zack's face falls. "You know what, never mind – this is a terrible idea, forget I ever said anything."

Cloud looks a little uncertain too. "Yeah, I'm not sure about –"

"Think about it," Aerith says. "How else do you think we could get in, huh?"

"Well, honestly, I was just thinking of walking through the front door and going from there," Zack admits. It worked for Genesis. "And I meant just me – and maybe Cloud. You would've stayed here."

"Yeah, no way, Mister, you're not going anywhere without me," Aerith snorts. "And you won't get far just walking in – while I will get us straight to the labs. We assets get special access, you know."

"What'chu mean, assets?" the black guy demands and waves an angry hand. "Just who the hell are you people and what are you on about?"

Zack looks at him, tries to come up with a way to explain it, and then sighs. "Long story, dude, sorry."

"Don't call me dude, man, I don't even know you," the black guy says and points a finger at him. "Who the hell are you?"

"Zack Fair, ex-SOLDIER."

"That tells me jack shit."

"Barret, not the time," Tifa says, arms folded, shaking her head and then sighs, looking at Aerith uncertainly. "Well, I can't say... if no one gave the order to drop the Plate in the first place, then there'd be nothing to worry about, of course, but… are you sure…?"

"We were captured the last time, too," Aerith explains. "I was taken during the Plate drop – you lot a little later," she nods to Cloud. "We escaped together – I bet we can do it again. And if we do it intentionally, we have a chance to prepare better. They'll never see it coming!"

Zack exchanges a helpless look with Cloud, who makes a face and glances down at Desmond, still unconscious. "Does anyone have smelling salts?" Cloud then asks hopefully. "He'll talk sense into her."

Desmond takes a bit to recover from his bout of unconsciousness, and even after smelling salts, water to drink, and an offered ether he still looks a little out of it.

"You want to do what?" he asks again, eyeing the purple bottle of ether suspiciously, while Avalanche – excluding Cloud – congregate below the support pillar, holding a hushed meeting.

"We want to climb the ShinRa Building and assassinate President ShinRa to keep him from dropping Plates and killing people," Aerith explains.

"Oh. Cool," Desmond says, shaking his head, and lifts the bottle. "Is this people juice too?"

Aerith makes a pained expression. "Well. Yes, it's made from Mako too, so, technically… But you should drink it anyway, it will replenish your MP."

"Juicing up on people juice to regain my mental hit points. Sweet," Desmond says, making a face, whirling the liquid in the bottle. "You sure it's safe to drink?"

"I've been drinking them since I was a young girl – it's fine," Aerith says.

"Yeah, but – I'm not from around here. Different Lifestream, remember?" Desmond points out. "Didn't you say MP recovers with rest?"

Aerith shakes her head. "Food and full night's rest, neither of which we have time for – just drink the bottle, Desmond. You'll feel better afterwards."

The guy makes another face. "Bottoms up, I guess," he mutters and uncorks the bottle. The expression Desmond makes when drinking it is kind of hilarious, as is the shudder he gives afterwards. Then he tenses up like he's waiting for something bad to happen, holding his breath, preemptively wincing…

But nothing happens.

"Huh," Desmond says, sounding vaguely disappointed, eyeing the bottle. "Honestly thought there'd be some sort of adverse affect, after… everything else. Wonder if this stuff will now get converted into the Grey instead. Hmm."

"Can you concentrate, please?" Aerith asks, sitting on her knees beside him. "Assassinating President Shinra?"

"Right – sure," Desmond agrees and shakes his head. "Okay – what's your plan, then?"

"Zack and Cloud are going to pretend to be SOLDIERs who captured you and me for Hojo, they're going to take us to the ShinRa Building and to the labs," Aerith explains, and Zack waits for Desmond to tell her it's a terrible idea.

The guy thinks it over and then shrugs. "Sounds like a plan, alright," he says and stands up with a grunt.

"You can't be serious," Cloud sighs, running a hand over his face. "You're going to get killed."

"Aren't you supposed to be an assassin, man?" Zack demands. "It's a terrible idea."

"Honestly, simplest plans tend to work the best, when it comes to getting places you're not supposed to go to," Desmond contradicts, stretching out his arms with a groan. "Nothing opens you doors like walking through them like you're supposed to be there and know what you're doing. Assuming you could get us through said doors, anyway."

"Well, uh…" Zack thinks about it. "There's security checkpoints and key cards you need…"

"From my experience, ShinRa staff just leave them lying around," Cloud snorts and quickly adds, "Not that I am agreeing with this plan. I'm just saying."

"I'm sure we can figure it out along the way," Aerith says brightly, giving Desmond a quick hug. "We don't have time to argue about this anyway – every moment we waste is another moment closer to them dropping the Plate – this Plate, or any Plate. We can't waste a second!"

Desmond pats her shoulder and then looks at Zack and Cloud. "I think we're going to have to waste a little time before we can try anything," he says then, looking from one to another. "Do SOLDIERs have uniforms?"

"Yeah – this is it," Zack motions at himself, and then hesitates. "Uh."

His uniform is ripped, torn, and stiff with blood – and Cloud's still wearing a dress. They both need a change of clothing.

"Oh no, where are we going to get SOLDIER uniforms for you?" Aerith asks worriedly.

Cloud sighs. "We're not… but those should do the trick," he says flatly and then turns to march over to where the rest of the Avalanche are huddled.

"Hmm?" Zack asks and then gets it – Barret and Jessie had just knocked out the poor infantry guards that were guarding the Plate support pillar. "Yeah, those should do," he agrees, sighing. "But I am grabbing a SOLDIER uniform from the HQ the moment I can."

"Same," Cloud says, ripping off his wig as he gets to work, stripping the infantrymen – and then himself.

Zack, going to his aid to do the same, can't help but notice that Aerith isn't the only one watching appreciatively. The Avalanche lady, Jessie, does too – as does Desmond, just for a moment, before taking Aerith by the shoulders and turning her away, turning his back on them too.

Zack glances between Cloud, Desmond and then back to Cloud. "So, uh –"

"Don't," Cloud says, reaching backwards to get at the ribbon in the back of the blue corset. "Just help me out of this fucking thing."

"You know you could just rip it?" Zack offers.

Cloud gives him a flat look. "You know how much this damn thing cost me?"

"Okay then, let's not rip the corset," Zack says with a laugh, and begins easing the corset off. It is not quite the weirdest thing he's done for Cloud – months on the run included months worth of bodily functions too – but it's definitely not something he ever expected to do for the guy. "You know, I, uh… I'm sorry, about your… head. Issue."

Cloud shudders slightly and bows his head. "Not your fault," he says, wincing and letting out a relieved sigh as the ribbon loosens and the corset slips down. "Sorry about not remembering."

"Definitely not your fault, buddy," Zack says and tentatively dares to pat his shoulder. "We'll get through this. We're pretty tough, you know – and we've gotten through worse."

Cloud glances at him and then away. "Sure," he says, not sounding particularly confident. "Raiding ShinRa Building is no big deal. Sure."

"Now you're getting it," Zack says, grinning, and helps him out of the rest of the dress. Having seen more of naked Cloud in the past months than he ever thought necessary, he can tell with some small bit of pride that he definitely looks better. Almost healthy, even.  

This whole thing is confusing as hell, but damn. He got Cloud back to Midgar alive. He did that. Fuck yes.

"Aww," Jessie bemoans as they pull on the infantry uniforms, Cloud with easy, practiced movements, Zack making faces at the helmet. The lady is pouting at them. "Blue is definitely not the colour for either of you cuties."

"How are you going to get up on the Plate?" Tifa asks worriedly. "The trains aren't running anywhere under the Plate."

"That… is a good question," Zack admits and rests his hands on his hip. "Shoot. What do you think, Cloud?"

"Uhh…" Cloud answers, uncertain, tugging at his uniform collar a little. "I… don't know either."

"We could climb the pillar, maybe?" Aerith suggests, peering up at it. "It goes all the way up the Plate, right?"

"Or," Desmond says, picking up a PHS from the ground, waving it a little at them. "We could call it in, and see what happens. Who knows. Maybe they will send us a pickup."

Cloud and Zack exchange looks. "Yeah, let's do that," Zack agrees.

"Well, don't call 'em here!" Barret says, swinging his gun arm at them. "We're going to secure the pillar, just in case, and we don't want Turks knowing about us until we do. Why don't you head to the town, make the call there? The square in front of Seventh Heaven is the closest place you can land a helicopter anyway."

"Sounds good to me," Aerith agrees, bouncing on the balls of her feet, clearly rearing to go.

"Sweet, we can pick up the Buster Sword before we go," Zack cheers, handing the Iron Edge back to Cloud. "Here 'ya go, Cloudy, as good as new."

"… thanks," Cloud says with a sigh, and clips it to his back. "Infantry members aren't exactly known for carrying SOLDIER blades, though."

"And that's why we'll get SOLDIER uniforms as soon as we can."

"Right."

"So, we're all agreed? We're all good to go?" Aerith asks, clasping her hands together – still in her flowing red evening dress, looking absolutely devastating, if Zack says so himself. She smiles brightly at all of them. "Then let's go raid ShinRa Building and assassinate President Shinra! And hopefully Professor Hojo while we're at it! Hell yeah!"

Yeah. Zack loves this woman more than life itself.

Chapter Text

Aerith might have bitten off more than she could chew. No, she knows she has. Their ability – the Avalanche's ability – to get in and out of ShinRa HQ had always been a mix of a fluke, luck, guts, and the fact that the Turks sort of let them – and the fact that Sephiroth emerged around the same time, to cause additional havoc. That they all got out of it with their lives was a miracle, the first and the second time. To go at it intentionally now… It's stupid. She knows it's stupid. But it's also something she hasn't done before.

And having Zack at her side makes her feel brave. Like she can really change the world, like it won't even be that difficult. And Desmond and Cloud are there too, and they're going to help her, and – it feels possible. Everything feels possible.

"So, what are our chances, really?" Desmond asks, leaning back against the stairs while Cloud and Zack fetch the Buster Sword from Cloud's room –- and hide away some of the loot Desmond had, somehow, stolen from Don Corneo. Like the sleazebag's wallet and PHS.

"Not – great. But not impossible," Aerith says, clasping her hands. "Last time it was – it was chaotic. I was captured by Turks right there, at Seventh Heaven," she points. "They took me straight to Hojo and dropped the Plate. Around the same time, Sephiroth broke through the surface and possessed one of his clones – he's the one who killed President Shinra."

"Hmm," Desmond answers, unwinding the hoodie from around his waist and giving it a shake. "Chances of that happening while we're up there? Sephiroth breaking through, I mean."

"Uhm…" Aerith considers it, frowning. With the way Desmond had – changed or killed or… whatever it was he'd done to the Whispers in Evergreen Gardens… "Pretty… pretty high, actually. We're making changes, and I think the Whispers might be weakening." They'd definitely be getting desperate now – the more derivation happened… the more they had to change back. Aerith casts Desmond a glance. "Do you know what it was that you did? In the playground?"

Desmond pulls the hoodie back on, tucking the hood up. "Sort of," he admits. "Why do you think the Whispers don't like me?"

"You're different," Aerith says. "I think there might be something about you that… actually hurts them, somehow."

"Yeah, I thought so too. My world's Lifestream is channeled, it's coded," Desmond says. "We don't got Fate, back on Earth. We got predestination and probability."

Aerith frowns a little, tilting her head. "How is that different?"

Desmond smiles, shrugging. "It's a small difference, I think, but from what you've been saying… there isn't actually Fate here, right? The Whispers are trying to make things happen the way they did the first time around, the original timeline. But at the same time this isn't that timeline – you got branching alternate realities happening. A multiverse, right? It's maybe a looping timeline with variations."

"Um… I guess… so?"

"Yeah, we have that too, but… it's not alternate universes happening on their own. It's probabilities, where I come from," Desmond says and shrugs. "The Lifestream was channelled, turned into Gray – everything was coded. When you get down to it – really, really deep down to it… Everything that ever happens and everything that ever will happen is known back on Earth. Even the things that don't happen, but might. It's all written down somewhere, in the background source code of the planet. I think that's what coding up a Lifestream does – it makes everything kind of… planned. Because if you know where everything is and where it's going and how fast it is getting there… then you can predict everything."

"Uh… I don't…" Aerith says and frowns. "I'm not sure I get that."

"My existence was predetermined seventy five thousand years before my birth," Desmond explains. "A small group of people looked into the future, decided, this guy, we need this guy to exist in this precise way in this time and this place. Then they made it happen. That's what the Grey allows. Everything is, uh… ordered. Nothing really happens by chance, because everything can be calculated."

"Okay… and that's why the Whispers of Fate don't like you?" Aerith makes a face, trying to understand. "Hmm… it sounds like they should like you more, if that's the case."

Desmond grins a little. "You'd think," he says and shakes his head. "But I'm unnatural here. I'm a foreign object in your natural Lifestream world. A microchip someone, namely you, inserted in your world's fleshy bits."

Aerith hums, tapping her fingers against each other. "You can use the Lifestream here. You can summon," she muses. "So you can affect things, even though you're a foreigner… Is that why you were so worried about the ether?"

Desmond shrugs.

"And the summoning you did, in the park?"

"That was… It was me exerting a bit more of my influence on my surroundings, I guess," Desmond says and folds his arms. "Sort of, it's hard to explain. It was a sort of a copy of the Apple's effect, and the Apple changes things."

Aerith nods slowly. "You changed those Whispers."

Desmond hums in agreement and then looks up as heavy boots sound above them, coming down the stairs. First Zack, now with the Buster Sword at his back, and then Cloud with his slightly more elaborate Iron Blade.

"Feeling better now?" Aerith asks, smiling. Zack definitely looks better, with the old sword.

"Heaps better!" Zack agrees, grinning. "Not a dent on it. I'm impressed."

Cloud sighs. "I didn't even use it for that long," he mutters uncomfortably. "Got the Iron Blade pretty much immediately after coming here – and it's better."

Zack feigns an affronted gasp. "You take that back!"

Cloud rolls his eyes, shaking his head, and looks at the rest of them. "So, we calling for… a pick up, now?"

"I guess we're ready?" Aerith asks and takes a hold of Zack's hand. "Come on, let's head to the square, we'll make the call from there."

Zack lets himself be dragged along, and Aerith winds her arms around his bicep, leaning into him while she has the chance. Cloud and Desmond follow them a little more sedately. Desmond looking around interestedly,

"I guess they've already evacuated here?" Desmond asks. "That was fast."

"That's life on the ground floor," Cloud says, awkward. "When shit hits the fan, you run. People don't stick around to get killed."

"Hm. Smart."

Aerith hums, resting her cheek against the cold metal of Zack's borrowed armour's shoulder guard. "Are you alright?" she asks quietly.

"I'd feel better if we weren't heading up to ShinRa HQ, but what can you do. Gotta do what you gotta do," Zack sighs and then smiles down on her. "Are you ready for this?"

Aerith looks down and hums in the affirmative, hiding her fears. It's bound to happen sooner or later, might as well make it happen now, on her terms. "I just hope…" she starts to say and then sighs. "I'm sure it will be fine. Right? Right."

"Right," Zack agrees and winds an arm around her.

They reach the Seventh Heaven to find the area empty, the bar sign lit but somehow cold, vacant.  Sitting on the stairs, Aerith takes out the infantryman's PHS and then hums, turning it in hand. It has a handful of numbers, most under simple names that tell her nothing. "Which number do we call?"

Zack takes the PHS from her. "The Turks," he says. "They're the ones looking for you – and they've got the easiest access to helicopters. They'll get here the fastest."

"They might not want to bring us along for the ride, though. Since we're just infantrymen," Cloud points out, folding his arms. "We should call Public Security and get an infantry helicopter. It'd be safer – and if it comes down to it, we can take the pilot down easier"

"If they'll even send anyone," Zack points out. "Infantry can't skip protocol like Turks can – they'll have to kick it up the ladder. And it might just end up with Turks anyway."

Cloud makes a face, thinking about it. "Not with the right name drop. We say the Director asked us to do something special before the big operation – people won't have time to question it."

"Can't they just ask the Director?" Desmond comments wryly.

Zack and Cloud exchange looks. "Nope," they say in unison. "Not with Heidegger."

"I guess that's settled then," Aerith says – personally more than relieved. She isn't sure she wants to face Tseng – the guy has a way of seeing through her. 

"Guess it is," Zack snorts and looks between them all. "Are we all ready? Then let's make the call."

"You should hand over your weapons to me," Cloud says to Desmond. "To make it believable."

"Yeah," Desmond says, making a face, and detaches the sword sheath from his side, following with a pair of handguns he'd been hiding under his hoodie. "Take care of those, I just looted them."

"Right."

Desmond sits down beside Aerith with a sigh, while Zack and Cloud figure out the call, and takes her hand. "So, out of curiosity," Desmond says. "What's the worst thing that could happen here?"

"Well," Aerith says. "We get captured by ShinRa."

"That's what we're planning, yeah," Desmond says. "What will they do to us, though? What does ShinRa want with Ancients, anyway?"

"Oh, right. They'll probably take us to the labs first thing. They want us to lead them to the Promised Land," Aerith says.

"O-kay, what's that then?"

"It's the Lifestream, basically – but they think it's an actual place, one with infinite Mako," Aerith says and shrugs her shoulders with a roll of her eyes. "Their last ditch effort to keep ShinRa Electric Power Company floating, and to stave off the end of the world – move the whole operation to this new promised place, and just start pumping."

"Uh," Desmond says, making a face. "Their solution to the end of the world is… to do more of the thing that's killing the world, but elsewhere. Great."

"It's just self-delusion, in the end," Aerith muses. "Them doing something, anything, because they don't want to admit that they killed the world. Kind of… corrupted hope that things could stay the way they always had, if only they found the right place to slap a Mako reactor on."

Desmond shakes his head. "Geez."

"That's what the end of the world does to people. It makes them desperate for solutions," Aerith sighs. "Solutions other than stop doing what you've always been doing, anyway."

"Right," Desmond agrees and sighs. "Why can't they just… switch to renewable energy sources?"

"Harder to quantify and thus harder to control the world with. And anyone can make a wind farm – only ShinRa can build a Mako Reactor," Aerith says, shaking her head. "And so, it's better."

Desmond hums and tilts his head up. "And there's no chance to talk any sense to these people?"

"Well, the President's son, Rufus, isn't terrible – after everything is lost, you can sort of talk sense to him, he kind of sees the light," Aerith admits. "But it takes the death of half the world and destruction of Midgar and the total devastation of ShinRa to get to that point, so… "

Cloud, who's watching them while Zack finishes the call, shakes his head. "So we kill just them all?" he asks dubiously. "Assuming that's even possible… then what?"

"Then, hopefully… the Planet doesn't die?" Aerith offers with a brilliant smile.

Beside her Desmond sighs and ruffles her hair fondly. "Yep," he says. "This is a terrible plan."

Sadly, the helicopter that comes for them is, indeed, a Turk one. And worse yet, it's carrying a Turk, too.The Turk, even.

Tseng… doesn't look particularly amused.

"Well," he says, looking between her and Desmond. "This must be the famous… cousin I have heard so much about. I hear you gave Reno the runaround."

"Desmond threw groceries at him, and then we skedaddled. Not my fault Reno is a failure of a Turk," Aerith says, trying to hide how nervous she is. Even with Desmond at her side and disguised Cloud and Zack nearby, Tseng always makes her a bit nervous.

"Hmh," Tseng answers, shaking his head, and looks at Desmond, considering hoodie, his armour, his face. "Not much in a way of family resemblance. But luckily for you, you don't look much like a Wutaian, either. What is your name, then?"

Desmond smiles. "Bob."

Aerith can't quite withhold her snort while Tseng's eyes narrow a little.

"Really," Tseng says flatly. "And what is your real relation with Aerith, then?"

"What's yours?" Desmond asks back, arching his brows and looking at Aerith. "He's being very possessive and jealous of the company you keep – is this, like, a thing?"

"It is very much like a thing," Aerith says apologetically. "He's the one who keeps track of me, and who found me, after my escape when I was a child. He's weird sometimes, and kinda scary, but he could be better, he almost has a conscience. Sadly, he's also a bit of a religious zealot when it comes to ShinRa, and will literally kill the entire world if they ask him to."

Behind Tseng, Zack's fingers curl into fists tight enough that the leather of his gloves creaks. Desmond just hums interestedly. "Ri-ight," he says, turning back to Tseng, eyes narrowing. "Delightful."

Tseng's lips, curled into a slight smile, flatten. His eyes move back to Aerith. "And where are your other two friends, then?"

"What friends?" she asks, carefully not looking at neither Zack nor Cloud.

"At the church you were seen with three other people. Your cousin and another man, carrying a third."

"Oh, um…" Aerith clears her throat, not sure what to say, glancing at Desmond, who shrugs. "They're right behind us and they're going to break us out," Aerith then says, smiling nervously. "So you should really just leave us here, it'd be better for everyone."

Tseng looks less than impressed and then looks at the two infantrymen, "Did you see anyone else with them?"

Zack jerks with surprise and Cloud answers, "No, sir, just these two."

"Hmm," Tseng answers. "What are you plotting, Aerith?" he asks.

Aerith folds her arms, pressing her lips together, and then says cheekily. "The assassination of entire ShinRa family, and all of the directors while I am at it, and the total and complete destruction of Mako as an energy source, the utter scouring of the ShinRa Science Department, and uh… I guess I'll figure out the rest as I go along."

"Amusing," the Turk answers flatly. "You've had your fun, but it's time to go back to where you belong, now. You and your cousin, who will be handing over his armour and items, now."

"I just got this," Desmond bemoans, but does as asked, zipping open his hoodie and then unstrapping his Wutaian armour, handing it over to Cloud with obvious reluctance. "There," he says and pouts.

Tseng narrows his eyes. "The rest too."

With a sigh, Desmond takes off the knife as well and adds it to Cloud's load. "Satisfied?"

Tseng narrows his eyes, and with an even heavier sigh Desmond digs through his pockets for a couple of balls of Materia and fireworks, of all things. Once done, Desmond lifts the hem of his shirt and does a little spin to show he has nothing else hidden away. Looking him up and down, Tseng harrumphs and reaches over – taking a PHS from Desmond's back pocket.

"Whoa, hey, bad touch," Desmond says, half-hearted.

Tseng gives him a look and adds the PHS to the pile. "There," he says. "Now I am satisfied. Take them in."

Desmond makes a face, as Zack and Cloud – now loaded up with an armful of Desmond's stuff and visibly gritting his teeth in irritation – begin herding them to the helicopter.

An hour later, both Aerith and Desmond are in ShinRa's labs, trapped in airtight experiment cages, with a thin mist of drugs wafting over them from above. Aerith is pretty sure that was never the plan – the idea was just to get a lift to ShinRa HQ, not to get actually captured, but – but she's having a harder time remembering what the plan was. Even with Desmond there, keeping the Whispers away…

Memories are their own kind of strain, and she has way too many from these particular cages.

"Right, so," Desmond says, pacing his glass cage. "Not exactly what I was expecting, but never let it be said you don't take me places, cousin mine. What's going to happen now?"

"Now Hojo will come here to leer at us and to be disgusting. You will probably be tested, to check if you really are an Ancient," Aerith says, hugging herself. "And then Hojo will decide to do something horrible to us."

"Horrible like torture, human experimentation, what?"

Aerith's shoulders slump. "This was really a terrible idea, wasn't it?"

Outside her glass cage is the place of all her nightmares. Well. Some of her nightmares. Childhood nightmares, certainly. The dark, grimy metal grating, the plates, the machinery… the equipment. She'd never been subjected to them as a kid, that was her mother's fate, but she still remembered them, and she could imagine what they were for. She'd gotten to see some of them in action, during her different bouts of captivity, in the previous timelines.

Hojo wasn't a man of restraint – nor a man of caution. Most of his experiments ended up with dead experimental subjects.

Aerith crouches down and hugs her knees. "I'm sorry I got you into this," she whispers, the knowledge of what she probably had done weighing in on her.

"Eh, I came willingly. It really was the clearest path forward," Desmond muses, running his hand along the glass. "What kind of restraints do they have for us? I'm assuming they will try to keep you from using magic."

"Yeah – there are drugs in the air, it's Silencing me," Aerith says and looks up. "This is how they kept me and my mother, when I was young – just constantly Silencing us."

"Silencing? I assume that's what it's called when they keep you from using magic," Desmond hums, looking up, to where the mist of aerosolized drugs comes into his cage.

"Mm-hmm," Aerith agrees with a sigh, squeezing the fabric of her red dress tighter in her hand, wishing she had her own clothes at least. She isn't even sure where her clothes had been left – at Madame M's? There'd been so many Whispers…

"Hey, don't be like that. It's not all lost," Desmond says soothingly, leaning to the glass of his cage. "You're not alone, okay? I'm here."

And there are Cloud and Zack too, they're still free and undercover in the Building. They'd come to get them. Right? "Right," Aerith says, and then looks up at the hiss of an automatic door opening. And there he is, just like she remembers him, just oozing vile malice and sadistic amusement.

Aerith stands up, squeezing her hands into fists – she will not meet him while on the damn floor, no way.

"Aerith," Professor Hojo breathes, utterly delighted, coming right up to her cage. "Oh, my dear sweet girl, what a gift you've brought us. Not only yourself… but a suitable mate as well?"

It's so clear he's looking for a reaction, and he will not get it from her. Desmond glances at her uncertainly and then follows suit, setting his face and not so much blinking at Hojo, as the man rounds up on him, examining him through the glass.

"Of course, he will need to be tested and examined," Hojo says, considering Desmond. "Not a pureblood either, I don't think – another halfbreed. Well, no matter, we will be able to aid the process along, to create as pure an offspring as we can manage. Of course, male specimens have their advantages over female ones – the ease of passing along those precious, precious traits. Granted, naturally, that you are of the Ancient stock. Are you?"

Desmond says nothing, his brows arching ever so slightly.

"Well, we will find out soon enough. Don't you worry – the procedure hurts almost not at all," Hojo says, smiling smarmily, and then turns back to Aerith. "Unfortunately, before we can get to it," he says. "I have to satisfy the material greed of my, ah… superiors. They want to find your Promised Land – do be a dear and point them in the right direction so that we may proceed. All I need… is directions."

It's almost funny. Hojo is the one who put the whole Promised Land notion into the President's head. Gast Faremis had started it, but Hojo was the one who hyped it up into a mythical utopia and got the whole ShinRa leadership all wrapped up in it. Now it's he who doesn't believe in it, probably knows what the Cetra really meant by it… but he keeps stoking the fires, anyway.

In that sense, most of the blame for the planet's death could really be placed at Hojo's feet. And the rest too, really, as Sephiroth's creator and Jenova's enabler. ShinRa might've figured out Mako and used it to drain the Planet to the point of destruction – but Hojo stoked their hopes about it being fixable to the very end. Without him… they might've actually seen the light, before it became too late.

Not that Aerith didn't realise that before, but now… She's never wanted a man dead more than she wants to see Professor Hojo dead. If looks could kill…

"Ah," Hojo sighs, shaking his head. "You're a spitting image of her, you know."

Aerith grits her teeth – and only barely keeps herself from reacting to Desmond, moving around in his cell. Somehow, he's caught a hold of something on the ceiling and is now hanging from it, doing something just outside her field of view – silent, but very visible. If Hojo turns now…

Fuck it, Aerith thinks, and lifts her chin. "You regret to this day," she says, mimicking Hojo's voice, and even his gestures. "If she had only trusted you instead of trying to run, it could have played out quite differently."

Hojo blinks, freezing in mid-move.

"What a terrible tragedy," Aerith continues. "To lose the last of the pureblooded Ancients. Although, not completely. Is that right, Professor? You preserved her. But again, not completely."

"How do you –?" Hojo asks, while behind him Desmond's legs are disappearing into the guts of his sealed prison's technological ceiling.

"That's the thing about science. You can't look at anything, can't study anything, without ruining it too," Aerith says, channelling years worth of bitterness, not only from her, but from all those she'd felt, all those who had felt the cut of Hojo's knife – her own father, in the Lifestream, furious at Hojo's methods. "The very act of observation destroys the purity of the thing, right? Everything you study becomes lesser for your attention. Lucrecia. Jenova. Sephiroth… Us Ancients. You've ruined everything you've touched, Professor."

Hojo tilts his head a little, marvelling at her, and then lets out a little snort. "Well, well, well… you have come into your own, haven't you, my dear," he murmurs. "Your mother was an insightful woman too, but so refrained, so restrained. But you… perhaps the lack of formal training, the lack of proper Ancient education… yes, maybe – and with the male subject, I can –"

He turns to look at Desmond's cell – and finds it empty. "What – where did it – ?!" Quickly, furiously, Hojo rounds up on her again. "You clever little – you were distracting me!"

"Oops," Aerith says and smiles beatifically at him, even as Hojo slams a hand on a control pad, and her cell gets flooded with stunning gas.

Chapter Text

"Just hang in there, Cloudy, a little bit more," Zack murmurs. "Just gotta blend in for a little bit more…"

Cloud casts him a glance through the helmet, wondering who Zack thinks he's fooling. As much as his head aches and as much as the whole thing grates, he's not the one vibrating with barely restrained anxious energy, or throwing desperate glances at the clock. Zack is all but raring to go, and he's doing a terrible job hiding it. Cloud thinks he is doing pretty damn well, in comparison.

Everything is a little woozy though, and his vision is a little blurry – the troopers in front of them, it's like they're overlaid by afterimages. It's just as well that no one is really paying attention to Zack and Cloud at all, standing in the back of the troopers – Zack with knees bent to make himself shorter.

They'd gotten roped into some sort of impromptu motivational speech thing, which Cloud thinks probably means that someone got some troopers killed again. That's usually what leads to these sorts of things. Something happened, someone upstairs – Heidegger – threw their weight around, threw some troops at the problem, and all those troops ended up dead. And Cloud thinks he knows which troops.

It feels like it was forever ago now, but Sector 5 reactor, it… wasn't that long ago. A day? Two days?

"… just remember, ShinRa takes care of its own!" the sergeant shouts to the gathered troopers, and it's a testament to how fubar shit had gone that no one says anything about the broken lines and wavering columns of soldiers. "Things might go bad, we might lose some of our fellows – but at the end of the day, ShinRa takes care of us, and ShinRa takes care of our families. The boys up in that reactor, their families will be getting a nice compensation…"

Yeah, Cloud thinks, straining against the ache driving itself into his head. Yeah, that's what I thought too. One day, mom would get a nice fat check with my name on it, and all the remorse ShinRa's automated systems could offer. That's all ShinRa ever did for anyone, ran their names through the system, hit send, and off the check went, and that was it…

But I was a SOLDIER, not an –

"… a nasty job sometimes, we all know that. It's a thankless job, but it's a good one, too. It's steady pay with health benefits, with reasonable hours, with good vacation times," the Sergeant continues, a little desperately, a little resignedly. "But you can't say it's not fair – it's a job we all agreed on, it's a job we signed up for…"

Cloud closes his eyes, remembering the heft of an infantry rifle in his hands, and what Aerith and Zack had said and insinuated, and thinks he's going to pass out – can't pass out, but he might, his head hurts so damn much –

Hey, Cloud – what the hell is that?

Desmond isn't there, but the memory makes Cloud open his eyes and look for something, anything to concentrate on. There, in the corner of the hall, there's a robot, powered down. Looks like it's in the middle of maintenance.

It's a Heligunner, Cloud imagines himself explaining. A ShinRa weapons drone – deployed mainly in Midgar, against minor monsters… and people.

Desmond would ask some dumb question about it, or point at something that didn't make sense to him, just dumb enough to make Cloud concentrate either on figuring out what he said, or on explaining, or just to give him a look. Never could tell with the guy how serious he was about his questions, or if he was asking them for the sake of making noise. Either way… it helped.

It helps now too, imagining Desmond making those comments, trying to think of answers.

"Take a fifteen minutes break, and then it's back to business as usual, people," the Sergeant says. "And look after yourselves and each other there."

Because goddess knows no one else will, Cloud finishes mentally, and almost startles when a trooper to the left actually murmurs the words out loud. Then they're dismissed, and the infantry troopers break rank, murmuring to each other as they head for the exits.

"Finally," Zack says and wraps an arm around Cloud's shoulders, jostling him slightly as he turns them around. "Come on, let's move."

Cloud swallows and lets himself be steered away from the meeting hall, trying to concentrate. Having Zack so close doesn't help his head much. "Now what?" he asks and shakes the guy off.

"Now we find ourselves a key card and head up. Floor 66, that's where they will be," Zack says and drops his arm. "Come on."

Look alive, Desmond in Cloud's head says, and he tries.

Zack gets them into requisitions, telling the clerk they're there to pick up some spare uniforms and then just breezing past the woman. Cloud follows, nervous – but after a token effort to tell them to stop the clerk at the counter just rolls her eyes and lets them.

"Some things never change," Zack grins and throws him a smile. "Used to have to come in here every other week to replace uniforms. The people here do not get paid enough to care. Come on – SOLDIER gear is through here."

"I… thought this would be harder," Cloud admits, following him between the shelves, where there are boxes and boxes of pre-packaged uniforms, everything from boots to helmets. "Didn't think the requisitions would be so easy to get to."

"It's easy when you know what you're doing," Zack says, checking the sizes and then starting to pull uniforms out. "Probably best we err on the side of caution and go with Third Class uniforms, there's always a whole bunch of those around. Find us an empty box, will you? We'll need to change somewhere not here."

"Right," Cloud says, and finds an empty cardboard box for Zack to pile the uniforms in. "Should we get something for Aerith too? She can't exactly move around in that dress. And maybe Desmond too?" The guy had meant to get something from the Wall Market but never got the chance, so...

Zack pauses in between checking boots for sizes, and for a moment he stares at nothing. Then he goes red about the face and says, "Wow, yeah, let's," and quickly looks through the uniforms again. "Size S should do for Aerith, right? She's a tiny, like you – "

"Hey," Cloud complains and gives him a look. "Also I meant… some other uniforms, looks like there's a bunch of different ones here – you're really going to get her a SOLDIER uniform?"

"I think it would look cute as hell," Zack says, grinning. "I bet she can rock it. Do you know Desmond's shoe size?"

"No, why would I?" Cloud asks, making a face. Zack's getting Desmond a SOLDIER uniform too? "We're going to stand out."

"Nah, it's gonna be fine. In fact, it's gonna be great. Hmm, the guy's about my height, right, so maybe…" Zack picks up a pair of boots, and then another, same size. "And tiny'uns for Aerith. What's your shoe size, Cloud?"

Cloud shakes his head and picks up his own boots. "We're all going to need helmets, probably," he says.

"Yeah," Zack loads up some belts and suspenders into the box and then makes a face at it – it's already full. "Need another box for helmets – gimme a mo," Zack says and jogs to find them another box. "There, now…"

Loaded up with uniforms and their accessories, they head out of the requisions, Zack throwing the clerk a jaunty wave and then ignoring her demands of, "You need to log in what you took! Hey, did you hear me, I need serial numbers–!" But it's barely half-hearted at best, and she never so much as gets up from her seat.

"Is that okay?" Cloud asks, wondering why he even cares.

"Eh, it's fine, they'll do inventory at the end of the month, log in what they're short on, and no one will care about a few things slipping in the gaps," Zack says and nods. "There, toilets. Time to get changed. Come on."

It's a weirdly mixed relief to change back into a SOLDIER uniform. It feels more and less right than it ever has before, and after changing Cloud gives the infantry uniform a confused, annoyed look before shoving it into a garbage can. It had felt familiar. Too familiar, really.

Going by the headaches and little flashbacks… He'd probably been an infantry trooper, huh.

"Better, much, much better," Zack says and ruffles Cloud's hair fondly. "Now, to get to level 66 we need to get through some hoops – or find a scientist from that level, and get their keycard. You ready for this?"

Cloud sighs and pulls on the brand new SOLDIER helmet, tugging the visor down to cover his eyes. "Let's just go."

Zack grins, pulls on a helmet too and then hands Cloud the remaining box. "Ready or not, here we go."

It takes them almost an hour to make it to the mid-levels of the building. First a while of wandering around the front hall and the café waiting for someone to leave their personal effects for long enough for Zack to snatch a key card from their purse. The badge gets them only up to levels 24-26, where the woman apparently worked at.

"This won't get us far," Cloud murmurs, lifting the cardboard box holding the uniforms while Zack flashes the card at the elevator controls. Together they peer at the readout. "Visitor options, huh?"

"Damn, they're finally finished Skyview Hall – we'll head up there. That will get us to 59th level," Zack says, reaching over to pick a level. "Should get a bit closer from there."

"Right."

Skyview Hall is – it's certainly something. It's also full of people – mostly normal people, ShinRa employees, a couple of infantry members, some actual tourists with cameras and everything… and a whole bunch of kids. Cloud barely avoids being bowled over by a group of them as they step out of the elevator – in the distance there's a tour guide, telling the kids to follow them to the next exhibit.

"That seems somehow wrong," Cloud mutters while the virtual assistant offers them a very pleasant ShinRa experience. School trip to ShinRa Building. Barret would be furious seeing this.

"Yeah," Zack agrees and pats him on the back. "Come on, let's see if we can get somewhere from here."

They get an badge upgrade at the front desk, which gets them up to level 63 – still short of the science floors.

"I don't really feel like going through the ShinRa Experience here," Cloud mutters, shifting his grip on the box. He's starting to attract attention with the damn thing, too. The troopers are looking at them. "What do we do now?"

"Hmm…" Zack folds his arms and looks around and spots a service door. "Well. How do you feel about stairs?"

"Well hello there," a voice says behind Cloud, and he can feel a shiver run up his spine. He knows that voice. "Are you boys enjoying some free time as well?"

Cloud opens his mouth and then snaps it shut.

"Yep," Zack answers, grinning disarmingly behind his helmet. "Just taking a moment to relax, you know?"

"Oh, I know," the guy says, a grin in his voice too. "I don't think I've seen you two around here – and I would certainly remember those swords. Actually…"

Cloud grimaces and looks to the side as SOLDIER sidles around him, a grin on his face. "I do believe I know the arms that wield it, too," the SOLDIER Third Class says, clasping a hand over his heart. "They led me in such a thoroughly enjoyable dance, after all – the finest I've had in… quite some time."

Yeah, the guy can tell who he is. "Don't know what you're talking about," Cloud says through gritted teeth.

"Oh, don't be like that. You were so much more honest when we danced – but I suppose body language is so hard to lie with," Roche says, sounding delighted. "So, what are we getting into here? Doing a little sneaking around, are we – naughty, naughty."

"Um," Zack says, looking between them. "I take it you know each other?"

"Oh, intimately," Roche purrs. "Your short friend here gave me quite the lovely time the other night."

"For fuck's sake – I beat you in a battle, stop making it sound like – like that," Cloud says, grimacing.

"I knew you were a SOLDIER," Roche says, satisfied. "There was really no other explanation – only a fellow SOLDIER could lead like that. It was magnificent. I really do hope we can have another dance, soon."

Cloud leans back quickly, as the guy reaches to touch his chin. "A bit busy right now, take a rain check," he says.

"And if I take this issue to, say, higher-ups and report in your naughty sneaking around?" Roche asks, grinning widely.

"Ah," Zack says, clearing his throat. "Well, as a fellow SOLDIER you should know that sometimes there are undercover operations, so – you shouldn't –?"

Roche just smiles at that, eyes shining, and says nothing.

"What do you want?" Cloud asks, sighing.

"Duel in one of ShinRa's fine training rooms," Roche says immediately. "You and me, swords and no Materia."

Damn it. Cloud glances at Zack, who shakes his head – they don't have time for this, they need to get Aerith and Desmond, but… Roche really might just let them slip through, if Cloud beats the guy in a duel. He doesn't seem to care much for rules, or… anything other than fighting, really.

"I don't suppose later would do it for you?" Cloud asks, uneasy.

"Mmm, no. Now sounds about right for me," Roche says. "I might throw in a little favour, if you do beat me. What do you say?"

Well… it could get them to the right level… "Fine," Cloud says and glances at Zack. "I'll make it quick."

"Oh, well now," Roche purrs. "Will you indeed?"

"Uh," Zack says, looking between him and Roche. "Are you sure about this? Maybe I should do it instead…"

"It's fine," Cloud says and hands Zack the box of stolen uniforms before turning to Roche. "Where are we doing this?"

Roche looks contemplative and then grins a little wider. "Right this way," he says with a slight bow, and then walks past him and back to the elevators.

Cloud exchanges a look with Zack. "Could get us a better key card," Cloud mutters, wincing. "But maybe you should go ahead, try to get to the others?"

"Uh-huh," Zack says, holding the box up and over one shoulder. "Yeah, no, I'm coming with. How do you know this guy, anyway?"

"Broke into some ShinRa warehouses with – uh. Friends. The ones you met. Anyway, they sent in Roche to stop us," Cloud mutters. "Or he just showed up, I'm not sure. I beat him, anyway."

"And now he wants a rematch. Yeah, that sounds like a SOLDIER alright," Zack snorts. "Right, okay. You should maybe let the guy know you're taken, though? Because that? That was a way of looking at someone."

"I'm not – " Cloud stops and then makes a face. Yeah, Roche wasn't particularly subtle, huh? Not quite as bad as Jessie, but, uh. "Why are people like this?" he mutters, turning to follow Roche.

Zack snorts and pats him on the shoulder. "You still have no idea what you look like, huh?" he asks, amused. "Well, that's something else that never changes. Still, might want to let the guy down, and sooner rather than later. Before it becomes trouble. Just tell him you're spoken for, maybe he'll let it go. Though with SOLDIER you never really know. Speaking from experience – we can get a bit… uh… intense about these things."

Cloud sighs and rubs at his face. "I'm not spoken for, though," he mutters.

"Interested in someone else, then," Zack says easily, which is somehow worse.

They enter the elevator, and the moment they do, Roche cheerfully punches in floor number 49 – the SOLDIER floor.

Fuck.

When it rains, it fucking pours, huh.

Roche doesn't just instigate a duel – he goes out of his way to advertise it, too. The moment they enter the SOLDIER floor, the guy announces, loud and proud, "Duel in two minutes, training room five, you don't want to miss it!" to the SOLDIERs hanging around the entrance. And then he saunters on ahead, leaving Zack and Cloud in the wake of that announcement – and the interest it gets them.

"They new?"

"Yeah, don't think I've seen them before – "

"Damn, those swords though –"

"Haven't I seen that one before –"

"Shit," Zack murmurs and nudges Cloud forward. "Go, go, go, move it, move it."

"What?" Cloud asks under his breath, trying to see what Zack noticed.

"Spotted an old friend – just move."

When Cloud enters the training room after Roche, Zack quickly slips in as well before the doors can close behind them. Roche immediately pulls a sword, aiming at him. "I meant this to be a one-on-one dance," the SOLDIER Third says. "You will not interfere."

"Just want a first row seat," Zack says, dropping the box and holding up his hands. "No worries, I won't get in your way."

"You better not – I will not hold back on your account. If you get in the way, that is your problem," Roche says and swings the sword. "This is a training room – and if you get killed getting in the middle of our glorious waltz, I will not be held accountable."

"Not that you'd hold yourself to account even if it wasn't in the training room," Cloud mutters, unclipping the Iron Blade from his back and giving it a little swing.

There are SOLDIERs crowding the observation room just outside, filling up the window. Being watched by so many people – enemies, really – doesn't really lend itself to an enjoyable duel, though.  Not that he would enjoy it anyway. For all that fighting could be exciting, Roche was a bit… much the last time. Cloud had beat him, but not without being left feeling like the guy got way more out of it than Cloud was really willing to give.

"I have been waiting for this, breathless with anticipation," Roche says, shifting his footing giddily. "Please, come at me with all you've got! Let us soar to the highest heights, together!"

Yeah, Zack might have a point, Cloud thinks and aims his sword at him. "Cut that shit out," Cloud says. "I ain't interested."

"Oh, no? Then I must try and persuade you, show you what I have to offer," Roche says, readying his blade. "Come, let's dance – you won't find a better partner than me, I guarantee it!"

"Tch," Cloud answers – but gives him what he asks for, and then some.

Well, if nothing else, it makes him feel a little better – sets his head back on straight, so to speak, gets the blood pumping. Roche is fast and strong and unlike any other opponent Cloud has taken out – but that's SOLDIERs for you, they can take a beating. Cloud could really do without the fucking commentary though – the guy is all but offering to take him on his metaphorical fucking dance floor.

"Yes, yes, just like that –" the guy laughs, as Cloud burns a few skills on him, their swords sending sparks in the air as they meet, the echoes ringing in the room, loud and sharp. "Show me how you burn for me!"

Cloud has been propositioned… a lot in these past few days, and he never knows how to take it. This, though, this makes his skin crawl a little. Especially compared to how Desmond – no. Not going there. Still, Cloud can just imagine how Roche would've reacted to seeing him in a dress, and – ugh.

The imagined response makes Cloud maybe a little frustrated – or a lot – because when he takes Roche finally down, he does it with more force than strictly speaking necessary – enough to ruin the guy's much lighter blade, probably for good. It flies from Roche's hands, chipped near the base – another good hit, and it'll be broken.

"Yield," Cloud snarls, while outside the window the SOLDIERs cheer.

"Oh, it's not quite my style, but I suppose this dance is yours," Roche pants. "Oh, such ferocity, and those moves –! We really must do this again – I will not stop until you're mine –"

"Not interested," Cloud snaps.

"You really must give me a chance – I'm sure I can prove myself to you –"

"Take a fucking hint, man. I'm not interested," Cloud says again and clips his sword to his back. "Now, you lost – time to pay up."

"Well, if I must," Roche says and sways to his feet, sighing. "Is it our mystery man over there, then? The one that has captured your interest? As well as your image – oh my, I suppose we did give him quite the show."

Zack sitting cross-legged near the door – he is also filming them on his PHS. "Whoo, way to go!" he says with a little fist pump, grinning behind the device. "You sure showed him."

Cloud is going to murder them both. "We have places to be," he says, marching over to Zack, to pull him up to his feet. "Places to be, people to see, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, but it's not like we were going anywhere while you were fighting, and I thought I might as well," Zack says, unrepentant, and puts his PHS away, picking up the box of stolen uniforms instead. "Hell of a fight, buddy. I'm so proud. You kick some major ass."

"Oh, shut up," Cloud mutters, shaking his head as the training room's door opens in front of it. "Roche, come on. I'm calling your favour, right now. "

They barely get out of there without being swarmed by SOLDIERs, and even then, they're followed to the elevators by them, chatting cheerfully and congratulating Cloud for a good fight, even asking for a fight. "Some other time," he growls, shoving Roche into the elevator, and Zack right after him. "Now – floor 66."

"Oh?" Roche asks, sounding interested, and takes out his key card. "Now what would you want from the science department?"

"None of your business – just get us there."

"Hmm…? Well, I suppose if anyone can handle their own funeral march…" Roche hums and turns to the elevator controls.

Outside, one of the SOLDIERs clamouring in front of it tries to push through and towards the elevator. "Wait, that sword – where did you get that –?!" they call as the doors close, and Zack lowers his chin, his jaw set and lips thin. He says nothing, but tension comes off him in waves, and the helmet doesn't do that much to hide his expression.

Roche looks at Cloud, makes to speak, and Cloud points a finger at him. "Don't."

Painfully slow, the elevator jerks into movement.

Getting rid of Roche is, thankfully, easier now that the man has gotten his fight. He bids them goodbye at the elevator, saying, "Do give it your all – and please don't die. There are many dances left, for you and I."

"There are not," Cloud growls, but the elevator doors are already closing, leaving him and Zack standing alone in front of the elevators. Cloud glances at Zack, clearing his throat. "So."

"Kunsel," Zack says and sighs. "We were promoted to Seconds together. He's my friend. You knew him too, actually – we ate a lot of junk food together… once upon a time."

"Ah," Cloud says, wincing. "Can't remember that. Sorry."

"It's fine," Zack says and rallies up, a forcefully cheerful smile coming to his lips. "Now, come on. Time to find Desmond and Aerith."

"Right," Cloud says, nodding, and looks around in the hallway. "Where do we start?"

Zack tilts his head and lifts the cardboard box to his shoulder. "Hear that?" he asks. There's an insistent beeping in the air. "I think we should start with that."

They follow the beeping into an observation deck to find it's a timer on a computer, informing someone that they are now ten minutes late to a board meeting. Zack checks the computer while Cloud looks around. There's a wall of monitors, showing a view of different rooms, cages and enormous glass tubes – containment cells, maybe. Looks like it's all live footage from around the labs – with the biggest monitor reserved for the ugliest thing Cloud has ever seen, a white and blue monstrosity driven through with wires and tubes and –

"There, I found Aerith!" Cloud says, pointing to one of the monitors. The camera is aimed at a round specimen cage, and Aerith is lying on the floor of it, red dress and brown hair spilling every which way – she looks unconscious. There are two guards on each side of the cage – and no sign of Desmond.

"Desmond was there too, the next cage over," Zack informs him, coming to his side. "Can you get it up on the screen?"

"I think he should be in that one, but it's empty," Cloud says, pointing at another one, his heart speeding up. "Do you think he's been taken somewhere, or…?"

"I dunno," Zack says, frowning. "But we'll find him. Now come on, Aerith is close by – let's go get her."

Chapter Text

Desmond is… a bit lost.

After making sure Aerith seemed alright – although unconscious – in her cell, he'd been following Hojo, listening to the man snarl to some terrified looking infantry troopers that a, "Humanoid research specimen is loose in level 66 – find it and capture it. I want it alive and unharmed!"

Aside from that, Hojo hadn't seemed that bothered by him escaping, hadn't even done the thing Desmond was hoping he'd do and investigate the cell – nah, the creepy asshole just left, muttering to himself about delays and foolish specimens not knowing what is good for them and setting up some monitoring equipment. The muttering stopped, momentarily, when the guy got a phone call and answered it with a snarl of, "Yes, yes, another insipid meeting, I am on my way – at a crucial time like this, bah!"

Following Hojo wasn't the most comfortable, but whoever designed ShinRa Building had not read the Evil Overlord's handbook – because sheesh, you could fit a man twice Desmond's size in the vents, and still have room to manoeuvre with ease. Hojo is not a fast mover either, so Desmond keeps pace with him well enough to hear every mumbled plan of, "collecting her eggs and his semen for insurance, maybe even preparing some zygotes, just in case," and "with two research specimens I can finally attempt those Mako exposure experiments in full," and "male Ancient! Oh, I can't wait to see if there's any difference in their characteristics based on sex…"

And then the guy had gone into an elevator, and Desmond had lost him. Which was a bit of a pity, because by that point he was creeped out enough to want to kill the guy on the bad feeling alone, even if Hojo hadn't glowed red like a fucking light bulb.

But he couldn't exactly trail a high speed elevator in the vents, so, Desmond had turned back, intending to return to Aerith… and then he'd gotten turned around somewhere. Funnily enough, his ancestor-based training didn't really include navigation in semi-modern vents. Not too many of those in the pre-colonial era.

After a few twists and turns and some pretty interesting rooms – and prison cells – he'd gotten more and more lost in the vents, and now… well, he's still in the labs, at least. The labs don't really look like labs anymore, though, not normal ones at least. Not that he knows what normal standard for labs around these parts actually is. These ones look more like the setting of a bad Resident Evil movie, with various vaguely body-shaped forms floating around in glowing green tubes of liquids. The place is just waiting for a blood zombie to pop out of a – uh… vent, probably.

After a moment, wondering if he should try and backtrack again through the vents, Desmond gives into the inevitable – trying to go back the way he came would just get him more lost. He'd have better luck on the actual floor, and it doesn't seem like there are that many people in this level – the few people he had seen seemed to have no interest in sticking around. Not that Desmond can blame them.

With the amount of psychic residue, pain, suffering and sheer sadistic malice hanging around… yeah. It's probably Mako, or some sort of magic miasma, or something, but the whole place is overlapped with memory echoes, and none of them nice – it makes the air seem thick with misery. Even people who aren't as sensitive to shit like that as he is can probably feel it. It's like a fog, but bloody.

He'd really rather not go down to the evil lab with the evil science experiments and the evil miasma, but… yeah, better he heads back, gets Aerith and then gets them both the fuck away from here, and then they can figure out what to do about Hojo.

Easing the vent grating open, Desmond flips down, hanging on by his fingertips on the edge of the vent for a moment before dropping down silently. The lab is no less spooky looking from this angle – it's actually worse. Dark and dimly lit and sort of damp like a damned grave, the room is lined with enormous tubes of liquid, and each tube has something in them, a human, an animal, a monster – an indescribable misshapen lump of flesh…

"Eurgh," Desmond murmurs, shuddering – the lump of flesh is pulsing with a heartbeat. With morbid curiosity he checks the readouts on the tubes to see if they actually tell what the hell they're about – running Mako exposure trials, apparently. Every specimen in every pod is getting different levels of Mako forced into them, in the water, through IV's, in a few cases fed to them through a feeding tube… and judging by the expressions on the most human looking guys, it's not exactly a fun ride for any of them.

Eagle Vision really doesn't like this place – every time Desmond's tried to look, he's gotten almost blinded by the memories hanging about – but… yeah, this seems like a place that needs a closer look, Desmond thinks grimly, and then with a deep breath lets his vision shift.

All the tubes shimmer and flicker with some levels of importance – but there's one that glows incandescent gold. Wincing at the shine of it, Desmond quickly shakes the Eagle Vision off and squints into the tube. It houses the shape of a… a kid, maybe three, four years old, slumped slightly forward with a gas mask on his face and about a dozen IV's running into his arms and legs. It… kind of looks like the kid's been given a surgery recently. Or maybe a dozen. And the readout says that his Mako saturation level is at 76%.

On his hand, there's a tattoo of a number – 18.

They've given the kid a number.

Desmond grits his teeth. "Yeah, fuck this noise."

He spends a moment looking for the pod controls and trying to figure out how to work them, before giving up and letting Eagle Vision lead the way, showing him what to press. It takes a moment to figure out the right sequence to open the pods, but once he gets it down on one of the pods, it's the same for all the rest – just four buttons, a switch, and the liquid goes down and pressure seal releases, dropping the subject inside down.

Not all of the experiments in the pods survive being detached – the lump of flesh drops to the floor of the pod, gives out a quivering pulse and dies. Probably for the best. The monsters and animals, whatever they are, either slump down unconscious or stumble into the walls, confused and probably in pain. The humans…

The humans are…

"Fuck, I have no idea what to do for you guys," Desmond murmurs, reaching for one, slumped on the bottom, bleeding sluggishly from where the IV lines came off. "Hey, man, can you hear me?"

The guy has a tattoo too – 48. And the one next to him, 35. Both of them look sick and neither regains consciousness, no matter how Desmond shakes them. And the stuff they're covered with, this slimy, faintly green goo… it's probably not helping.

"Sorry, I don't think I can do anything for you," Desmond murmurs, pulling out the IV's and easing the feeding tubes off. "Don't have the means to take you with me, you're too damn big. If you consented to this or something, I'm sorry for fucking that up, but I kinda doubt it. I hope you make it."

He tries to do the same for the animals, and manages without too many issues with the unconscious ones. The conscious ones just try to bite his fingers off, so he leaves them. As for the kid…

"Yeah. You are coming with me," Desmond says, wiping away as much of the Mako muck off the kid before taking off his hoodie and wrapping it around the little guy. "Up we go."

The last thing he does before leaving is breaking the pod controls, and following that, the door controls. If some feral former experimental subjects go running wild in ShinRa's labs, well… not his problem.

Eagle Vision is absolutely no use in navigating the labs. Too much shit in the air – too many important things to steal or kill or do something else with – it feels like Desmond's senses are pulling him in four different directions all at once, and none of them feel less urgent than everything else. He ends up walking in circles, trying to figure it out, and then has to hide in a bathroom as a jittery scientist comes ambling down the corridor – one of the few ShinRa scientists who for some damn reason doesn't deserve to be killed.

"Come on, Beck, you can do it," the scientist murmurs at the mirror. "Today's the day, you're just going to go up to him, and say, you quit. You can do it, just, quit. You'll find a nice position at some clinic, you'll be a nurse if you can't be anything else, just. Quit. Quit. I quit. Professor Hojo, it has been frankly fucking terrifying working with you, I hope you rot in hell, I quit. Come on…"

Hugging the still unconscious kid against his chest and making sympathetic faces at the air vents above, Desmond listens to the poor guy try to psych himself up for about ten minutes before the man finally washes up and leaves. He's followed immediately after by an infantry soldier, who goes straight for the stall next to the one Desmond is hiding in – and who spends the next five minutes throwing up.

So, yeah. Seems like no one is enjoying their employment here. Except Hojo. It's kind of… well, not funny, but Desmond can't help but draw some comparisons to Abstergo here – and ShinRa, so far, seems to be winning the race for the worst planet-controlling company ever. With flying fucking colours.

After the infantry soldier has gone, Desmond eases his way out, trying to keep an Eagle's eye on the surroundings – but there are those memories again, echoes, all the magical residue. Blink and suddenly an empty corridor is full of people, of slumped over specimens, of soldiers dragging other soldiers, of monsters being transported in cages, of someone being escorted in cuffs – and strangely, of a tall, long-haired man in a black coat, standing alone, radiating some indescribable emotion that goes so far beyond intense that it's tipping over to serenity. He, whoever he was, had some fucking power behind his feelings.

Desmond might be freaking out, just a little bit, and it barely helps that he can blink the echoes away.

"Find Aerith, just find Aerith, come on," he murmurs to himself. "You can do it. One foot in front of another. Come on."

At least the kid is still out cold and not experiencing this with him. Though the kid probably wouldn't even feel something was wrong. It's just Desmond, stuck with the several years worth of horror residue here. And if that wasn't bad enough…

In the corner of his eyes – in the corner of the ceiling – he can see the Whispers. Just a couple of them, moving in and out of the walls, whirling away somewhere. It's just for a moment, but it definitely doesn't help his state of mind – and a moment later he can feel them, a lot of them. Somewhere above him, the Whispers are congregating in mass.

Zack, Cloud and Aerith? Has to be. Fuck. Aerith had said they were too early here – maybe the guys had found her while Desmond was off rescuing fellow experimental subjects. They'd gotten to the higher levels – hell, maybe they are going after Hojo. Someone had to, while Desmond was messing stuff up.

There's a sound of steps somewhere behind him, and Desmond makes an executive decision – if it is a scientist, and if they glow even a little bit red, he'd take them out and steal their stuff. Then he hides in an alcove just behind the corner, and waits.

It is a scientist, and they are whistling idly while pushing a cart full of test tubes and various suspicious looking phials. They also glow very red.

Right then. Gently, Desmond sets the kid down, tucking the hoodie tighter over him. After making sure the kid wouldn't fall over, Desmond turns, glances around the hall, sidles up behind the scientist and puts them in a chokehold. Thankfully, it doesn't take long for them to pass out.

Desmond leaves their body in the bathrooms behind an Out of Order sign, and with a brand new lab coat, pocket protector, and a keycard, goes to collect the kid. "Right," he says, wiping a little bit of drying green muck from the kid's pale hair and then taking out his keycard – good for levels 66-68. "Let's go see what's going on upstairs, shall we?"

Somewhere behind him, a camera quietly turns away, while elsewhere some confused specimens begin breaking out of a lab.

Level 68 is some fucked up shit. Some really, really, terribly fucked up shit. And that's after the Whispers have cleared up.

It's not a level, exactly. Or if it is, then it's several levels thrown together with the floors in between removed, if they ever existed – and it's not just one or two, but over half a dozen floors' worth. There are platforms here and there, with some catwalks and scaffolding, but it's mostly open space. Not unused open space, though, oh no.

There are metal-clad reinforced specimen pods as far as the eye can see – just, rows and rows of them, easily dozens if not hundreds of them. ShinRa, it turns out, isn't just experimenting on various people, creatures, monsters or whatever. They're fucking breeding them. And at the very bottom of the – the – whatever the hell the level is, there's a veritable field full of pods – and in them, apparently, there are people.

SOLDIERs, judging by the readouts, in the middle of their Mako treatments.

"So, this is how you make a SOLDIER," Desmond murmurs, wiping away the condensation on the glass window in front. "Just fucking dunk them in people juice and wait until they're fully saturated. Jesus Christ."

The pods are all wired, like some sort of hellish grapes, into this central mass of pipes and wires, leading up, up, up to the thing the Whispers were whirling around near the very top. Whatever it is, it's blazing, red and gold, just radiating a terrible oozing aura of death, he doesn't even need to activate Eagle Vision to see it. The pods with the SOLDIERs are somehow connected to it… like whatever it is, it's feeding into them.

Swallowing, Desmond wonders how far beyond his field of experience he really is here. Pretty damn far. "What do you think, are Aerith and the others up there?" Desmond asks, wincing, rubbing the kids back nervously. "Do you think whatever it is… we could kill it?"

The kid drools against his shoulder, and yeah, Desmond doesn't think so either. But the fact that the Whispers were all around it, that's… yeah, that's pretty bad, isn't it?

There are now… four points of difference, between this timeline and the previous ones. There's him, the guy from a different planet altogether. There's Aerith, in her third go at these events, mixing things up left and right. There's Zack, previously dead but somehow not anymore…

And there's Sephiroth, which the Whispers were containing somehow.

Whispers, which Desmond's proximity sends away.

"I really shouldn't have come here, huh?" Desmond mutters, wincing, and backs away, back and towards the elevators. "Sorry, dementors, you go back to what you were doing, okay, I'm just – I'm gonna go find Aerith. I'm just gonna – yeah –"

He runs.

There's a battle going on by the time Desmond makes it back to the right set of labs, and judging by the level of noise and its implied destruction, Desmond can guess who's involved. He rounds a corner carefully, and sure enough, there are Zack and Cloud, in brand spanking new uniforms and helmets, comfortingly blue on the Eagle Vision's blurry radar. They're fighting a mixed crowd of infantry troopers, robots and some sort of monsters, and it looks frankly chaotic.

Desmond has never seen anything more beautiful or comforting in his life than Cloud Strife, swinging a massive sword at some poor schmucks.

And damn, do they fight. It's one thing to be in a fight with the guys and another to watch it from the distance – and it's obvious that with no squishy non-enhanced teammates in danger of getting in the way, the guys are really letting loose. Zack is just throwing the weight of his sword around, letting it tear through people like they're so much paper, while Cloud cuts light into the air, cutting through the rest. It's flashy, violent and a little bit scary, just how much power they're throwing around – and how it's so clear that it's not even making them sweat.

Yeah, after the hour he's had, Desmond is good sitting this one out.

Leaning his shoulder against the metal wall, Desmond sighs, shifts his hold on the still unconscious kid and then lets himself be distracted by the stuff Zack and Cloud actually do in the fight. Sword sizes, forms and the sheer strength they display is one thing – the magic thrown into the mix, though…

Desmond is still a bit out of the loop when it comes to how magic actually works – what you need Materia for and what not, and how that relates to magic people can do without Materia, and also MP is still… a bit of a question. But it's clear enough that both Zack and Cloud channel energy through their swords, pushing it into their attacks. There are the regular swings and swipes in there, sure, but whenever they get that ATB thing going, that's when their swords start to glow.

So can people do magic without Materia or not? And what's the difference between this sword magic and the stuff Aerith can do with Materia – and Ancient brand of Materialess magic? From where Desmond is standing. It all looks kind of the same, really. Or maybe it's different with SOLDIERs, since they're enhanced?

"Or maybe I'm missing something," Desmond murmurs and gives his burden a little bounce, lifting the kid more securely against his chest. "Probably that. It's usually that."

But damn. SOLDIER guys, they're really something else, huh. Suddenly this place doesn't seem nearly as scary as it did just a minute ago.

"There – now come on, how do we get this open?" Zack asks, running to the pod where Aerith lays slumped over, throwing his helmet aside. "Aerith, Aerith, can you hear me?"

She doesn't respond, and behind Zack Cloud moves to the pod controls, checking them over. "I think this here – " he says, poking at the controls, and a panel of the glass pod wooshes to the side, letting Zack into the tube. He wastes no time picking Aerith up and carrying her out, checking her over quickly once out.

"She looks fine – I think she was just knocked out," Zack says, sighing with relief. "Her breathing is fine and heartbeat steady. Aerith, baby, can you hear me?"

"Should've saved some of the smelling salts," Cloud says, sighing and running a hand over his face – and then he spots Desmond, who's by now sliding down the wall. For a moment the guy just stares at him, before pulling off his helmet and demanding, "Where the hell have you been?"

"Vents and places," Desmond says weakly. "Hey guys."

Zack looks up and then stops to stare, too. "What's that?" he asks.

Desmond looks at the kid. "Fellow specimen I stole from a lab," he says and struggles to his feet. It feels like his knees are jelly all of a sudden – adrenaline running out maybe. "I don't know about you guys, but I am frankly just not having a good time here."

"Yeah, no kidding," Zack says, lifting Aerith up in his arms and coming forward to see. "Fellow specimen, huh? Damn, they are experimenting on kids now?"

"Apparently so. There were some others, but this one's the only one small enough to carry - the others were adults, or monsters," Desmond says, looking down at the kid. "They put a fucking number on him, so… couldn't leave him."

Cloud and Zack exchange looks. "Yeah, for sure," Zack agrees quietly. "But this is going to make things a bit harder, you realise, carrying a kid around. And Aerith's out cold too…" he murmurs, looking down at her, and frowning.

"And we don't have a way out of this level," Cloud adds and explains to Desmond, "We only got here because a SOLDIER Third Class helped us."

"If you can call that helping," Zack says, shaking his head. "We need to regroup somewhere, think this through – don't suppose you saw a storage room, or bathroom or something? Someplace where people might not come looking for us right away."

"Um – there was a funky looking prison cell with flowers painted all over the walls, it looked pretty cosy and kinda abandoned," Desmond offers.

"Great – let's hop to it," Zack says. "Before people come after us."

Cloud glances at the infantry guys and trashed robots on the floor, and though he says nothing, his expression speaks volumes.

Desmond is more than glad to get out of the lab coat he'd stolen – it was just fabric, but after all the shit he'd seen so far, it feels kind of dirty to be wearing it, like it's been tainted by the place. The SOLDIER uniforms Zack and Cloud brought him and Aerith aren't quite his style, but at least it's new and never before worn – no psychic residue in it.

This whole place has fried up his senses, huh.

"I don't think she's coming to," Zack frets over Aerith. "Did you see what happened to her?"

"Hojo flooded her pod with some kind of knockout gas," Desmond says, throwing the lab coat aside with a slight shudder. "I doubt it was too dangerous, though – Aerith could see it coming, and she didn't seem too worried."

"Hmm, guess we'll just have to wait, then," Zack hums unhappily and then looks at the kid, lying beside Aerith. "Right. I'm not much of a doctor, but this kid doesn't look too good. He was really in a Mako pod?"

"Yep, with a bunch of others," Desmond says, stripping off his t-shirt and giving it a morose look. It's dusty from the vents and ripped at the neckline and the hem, but it's his shirt, and he has the feeling that he wouldn't be seeing it again. How real it really is, he has no idea – it's not like he'd brought his mortal body into the Grey, whatever he wore there was just a manifestation of his memories of himself, but still… it's his shirt, and it's a wreck.

Oh well, Desmond thinks, and opens the package holding the SOLDIER's blue sleeveless turtleneck. "Guess it's too late to ask for something with sleeves?" he asks, rubbing a hand over the bracer strapped around his left arm, and glancing at Zack and Cloud.

Zack looks up from the kid – Cloud quickly looks away from Desmond.

"Ooh, you've got a tattoo, how cool," Zack says, grinning, and folds his arms. "Man, you know how much I regret not getting tattoos when I could? SOLDIER enhancements would just heal them away now. What's that?" he then nods to the straps around Desmond's arm.

Desmond snaps out the hidden blade, eyeing Cloud. "Tool of the trade," he says with a smile and snaps the blade back in. "And I'd prefer to hide it – not much of a hidden weapon when it's on display."

"Hmm… guess we could wrap it with something? How do you feel about bandages?" Zack suggests. "Some bangles could cover that, but we don't have any, sorry.

Bandage, huh. Well, it's an idea, Desmond muses and then shimmies out of his jeans – keeping a careful side-eye on Cloud as he does. The SOLDIER uniform trousers are much looser and lighter than the jeans, which probably just makes sense, considering the stunts SOLDIER seem to pull all the time. And the belt, damn… it's almost nostalgic. The suspenders are new, but he can work with it.

Desmond bids his old t-shirt a heartfelt goodbye and then rips it into a single long strip of cloth, wrapping the dark blue cloth around his left arm, to hide the hidden blade. It almost works with the lighter blue of the SOLDIER uniform, he muses, and ties the strip up.

"What do you think?" Desmond asks, spreading out his arms. "Do I make a believable SOLDIER?"

"You're way too skinny, man," Zack says, grinning. "But I've seen worse."

"Rude. We can't all be enhanced beefcakes," Desmond pouts – he's not that skinny. He's fit enough for a normal person – beside these two, anyone would look skinny. "What do you think, Cloud? Can I pull it off?" Desmond strikes a pose, just to see the reaction.

Cloud just exhales and doesn't look anywhere near him. "So, what will we do now?" he asks, folding his arms. "Just wait for Aerith to wake up? What if they drop the Plate before she does?"

"That… is a good point," Zack grimaces and sighs, rocking up to his feet. "Hmm… What do you think, Desmond? You're the assassin here."

"Well, I'd like to get out of the lab levels, first thing. Not going to get anywhere from here," Desmond says, sighing with disappointment – guess this isn't really time, huh. "We can probably use the vents, though, when we find where our targets are. You could fit a small army in those vents."

"Good to know," Zack muses.

"We need to get off of this level first," Cloud says, shaking his head. "What level will the President be on?"

"Executive suite is on level 69 – Presidential office on 70," Zack says, thinking about it. "We're close. Just gotta go through levels 67 and 68."

… Ah, Desmond thinks and grimaces. "I, uh… made a quick little trip up there, to the level 68," he admits, taking the keycard he'd stolen from the scientist. "Just for a bit – you know what that level is like?"

Zack makes a face. "Yeah, I spent a lot of time there, early on. For Mako treatments."

"Right," Desmond says and clears his throat. "Well, anyway I… might have some bad news."

"Hm?" Zack asks, and Cloud glances his way.

"The Whispers, they, uh… they've been containing someone, right?" Desmond asks carefully, not sure if Aerith had told them, how much she'd told them. "I think I found where – and I think I might've gotten a bit too close."

Zack blinks and then his face hardens. Cloud frowns, confused. "What do you mean?"

Okay, so, Zack knows – Cloud doesn't. Great. "There's a thing on level 68," Desmond says. "Way, way up it, I didn't get that close, I was at the very bottom, with all the – the pods. Anyway, there's something all the way up there, and the Whispers were all over it," he trails away and grimaces. "And I think I got too close. Close enough to send them away, for a moment."

Zack's face falls. "You mean – "

"Ye-eah," Desmond says, wincing. "I don't know for sure, but if he's as bad as Aerith says he is… he might've broken loose."

Chapter Text

Aerith is still unconscious as they make their way to level 68, which is not helping Zack's nerves much. For a science laboratory, it has an alarming lack of first aid lockers, and they'd not found anything to wake her or the kid up, and so they're carrying both – Cloud carrying Aerith and Desmond the kid. Zack, on the other hand, is in charge of the keycards – and security. And generally knowing what he's supposed to be doing. Which he… doesn't.

At least so far, there hasn't been much to deal with – and the one patrol of infantry troopers had been eager to be lied to and sent away at the first sight of them. 

"Sirs – you found the escaped research specimens!" they'd cried in pure, unashamed relief.

"Uh, yeah, sure, we did. We're securing them now."

"Understood, sirs! We'll handle the clean up."

And that was enough. Apparently, a couple of SOLDIER looking guys carrying escaped research specimens around in the labs is in their books a situation suitably handled, and that was all the infantry needed to know to decide that the rest of it was none of their business.

"I'm guessing those guys don't get paid enough to deal with this stuff, huh," Zack muses, looking after the eagerly retreating troopers. "Phew, look at them go."

"From what I've seen, not many enjoy working on these levels," Desmond says, also looking after them, arms secure around the unconscious kid. "I'm guessing it's a hostile work environment."

"No kidding," Cloud mutters, shaking his head, and saying nothing more.

It has to be weird for him. It's weird for Zack, too, being back here, in the thick of it. It's like the good old times, if they'd been put into a blender – here he is, in SOLDIER uniform again and everything, in the midst of various ShinRa employees, like the last 4 years hadn't even happened. Except they had happened – ShinRa might look pretty much unchanged, but… yeah. It's a new set of eyes Zack's viewing the place with. This time he can see the rot, oozing from the walls, saturating the air with coppery taste of rust and blood. And it's not pretty.

It's not like he swore never to return – he knew better than to make predictions about the future, even when trapped in a Mako tank – nor has he felt any fear or horror about returning. ShinRa was horrific, sure, they'd burned him and just about everything he'd loved within the company, yeah, he has a whole boatload of grievances now… but the building is just a building. Still, Zack definitely hadn't thought it would be this soon, and definitely not under these circumstances. 

It's just weird. The strangest homecoming ever.

At least with the SOLDIER uniforms, no one looks at them too closely. Not that there are that many people around to really see them, anyway. The key card Desmond's had stolen gets them straight to level 68 without further delays, and the place is pretty much empty. No surprise there, though, no one ever enjoyed working or spending time in the Drum. Thankfully they don't have to climb the damn thing – the keycard Desmond got had to be pretty high level, as it gets them to the very top of the place, with no extra effort required. And on that level they find...

"Well, this is… I don't even know what this is," Zack admits, eyeing the mess of pipes and wires and goop and blood in front of them. It looks like it exploded, whatever it was, and spilled its contents everywhere. "I'm guessing this is a problem, though."

Cloud says nothing beside him, his eyes wide, shining in the dim light, while Desmond peers at a fallen plate on the grating, carefully holding the kid to his chest to avoid so much as jostling him. "Jenova," he reads out, nudging at the plate. "Not Sephiroth?"

"Jenova. Wait – Jenova?" Zack says, inching closer to see – and sure enough, that's the name on the plate, embossed in large letters, just like back in Nibelheim. "That's – what the hell.  They brought it here, after Nibelheim? But how the –"

Cloud flinches sharply beside him, his face scrunching up in pain, and Zack quickly puts a cork in it.  Shit, probably shouldn't have said – too late. Spiky's eyes are screwed up shut tightly in pain, and he's wavering where he stands – his arms around Aerith are sagging.  "Whoa there, Cloudy."

"My – head –"

Zack quickly eases Aerith from the guy's arms while Desmond comes to Cloud's other side, close enough to offer support, but not quite touching. Cloud doesn't seem to even notice.

"Slow breaths, Cloud," Desmond says worriedly, making an aborted move to touch him, and then wrapping both arms around the kid instead. "How do your boots fit?"

Zack looks away from the pit where Jenova apparently used to be, because… What?

"What?" Cloud asks, squinting at Desmond confusedly.

"How do your boots fit?" Desmond repeats, lifting one foot off the metal grating and rotating his ankle. "Because mine are a little cramped. My toes are all squished up, I bet I'm going to get some blisters. How about you? How do your boots fit?"

Ahh, another point of redirection. Shaking his head, Zack looks back in the pit and then after the trail. It really looks like the thing just up and left. What the hell is going on here…?

Cloud strains and looks down. "It's – fine, I'm fine," he grunts and rubs at his forehead. "Fuck – I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, man," Zack says, grimacing, lifting Aerith more securely in his arms and checking her over. No change there, still sleeping like a baby… a drugged up one. "It's this place – never liked it here. Even when I was Third Class this place gave me the heebie jeebies." It never really stopped, either.

"Slow breaths, Cloud – wiggle your toes, maybe," Desmond says and looks at Zack, mouthing, "What's Jenova?"

Zack grimaces and shakes his head – there's probably no easy way to explain without triggering Cloud again, and they can't afford that right now. As it is, it kind of looks like Jenova has just fucked off to somewhere. There's a trail of bloody, steaming slime on the floor, leading away from the hollowed out remains of her pod – leading towards…

Damn, Zack thinks, shifting Aerith in his arms to a more comfortable position and turning away from the pit of indescribable muck. "I think it's headed for the upper levels," he says, nodding at the trail. "That's where the President lives." And where the ShinRa elite worked...

Desmond glances after the trail and then looks at Cloud, who's gathering himself, lifting his head and wiping a hand over his eyes. Desmond hums and then looks back at Zack. "You think we should follow it?" he says quietly.

Zack bites his lip and then nods. "Yeah, I figure we should," he agrees and nudges Cloud gently with an elbow. "Alright there, Cloud? You can stay here, have a breather, if you want."

Cloud winces and quickly shakes his head. "I don't. I'm good," he says, sounding everything but, and looks at the mess Jenova left behind. "It was – it was in Nibelheim, Jenova. Wasn't it? When Sephiroth –" he winces again and glares at the floor.

"... Yeah. Don't push it, man, we need you lucid, okay?" Zack says, quiet, giving him a slight shoulder bump for solidarity. "Come on. Let's go see where it went and what's it up to."

They follow the trail through the top of level 68, its path meandering in oozing trails down the catwalk, up the stairs… and right into pure, unadulterated cacophony in the level 69.

There's screaming in the distance, a woman crying, people running towards the elevators, and people rushing away from them, infantry troopers and Turks rushing in to contain the situation – and there's blood and gunk, staining the rich red carpets and smeared on the polished walls, leading right through the place and towards what Zack thinks he can safely assume… is the main ShinRa elite's meeting room. The doors definitely look fancy enough. 

They're also hanging broken from their hinges, split in the middle by a sword.

"He's dead – I saw it with my own eyes, he's dead, President ShinRa is dead!" A pale man in a business suit screams, running past the stairs. "Sephiroth killed president ShinRa!"

"Clear the area – sergeant, get those people out of here," one of the Turks snaps. "Elena, handle them – Director!"

Zack gapes, watching Heidegger pretty much carry Scarlet out of the meeting room while Palmer crawls out after them on all fours, gasping like a drowning man. They're all pale and splattered with blood, and Heidegger has a gun in his hand, still smoking. Somewhere inside, professor Hojo is cackling, while Turks and troopers begin herding the office workers away from the area and out of the way.

"Um," Desmond says, backing up a step, back towards the stairwell behind them. "I think we should –"

It's like – Zack doesn't have a reference for this. The whole scene seems like a scene from a play or something – one of those super dramatic ones with murder and mystery and drama. It doesn't seem real. This is the executive floor of the ShinRa Building, and it looks like – like a crime scene. The most powerful people on the planet, Heidegger, Scarlet, Palmer, they all look shaken up, stunned. And inside, accompanied by Professor Hojo of all people, the President…

Sure, they'd come here with the intention of stopping the President, stopping ShinRa elite from destroying Sector Seven, but Zack hadn't ever really thought that they actually could kill any of them, never mind the President. Distract maybe, definitely cause trouble, but kill…?

"Zack!" Cloud hisses, tugging at his shoulder. "Zack, come on –"

"Yeah," Zack agrees, choked and numb. "Yeah, let's –"

Cloud drags him back, and before anyone has the chance to notice the three people in SOLDIER uniforms and their various burdens, they back away and down the stairs, to find a quiet place to regroup.

Sector Seven Plate is still there – as are the rest. As far as they can tell, the President never got the chance to issue the order to drop it, and if anyone else among the ShinRa elite knew about the plan, well… they probably have more pressing issues currently. Like the fact that apparently their prized town-burning General was back from the dead and on a murderous rampage. Not that the news would spin it that way, oh no, but inside the building… you can feel something's very wrong.

Even in their hiding place on level 66, in the prison cell painted with flowers, Zack can tell the difference in the air. The whole building seems to balance on a knife's edge, holding its breath, waiting.

"So, what you're saying..." Aerith, barely awake and very confused, says slowly, "...is that Sephiroth… saved Sector Seven?"

"Not exactly how I'd put it, but, uh," Zack scratches at the back of his head, trying to stop himself from pacing. "I guess so, yeah?"

Aerith looks at him, then at Cloud, who is sitting on a chair beside the bed, his head in his hands, and at Desmond, sitting cross-legged on the floor, still holding Subject 18. "He's early," Aerith says finally, considering the dress she's still wearing, plucking at the hem slightly. She… doesn't seem too bothered by the news.

"You knew this would happen?" Cloud demands.

She shrugs. "Well. Sephiroth killed President Shinra the last two times too. It seems to be a trend. Last times it was just after the Plate fell, not before. I wasn't exactly expecting it, but..." she trails away and stretches out her arms in a yawn. Then she looks around them. "Huh."

"What?"

"This is – this is my old room. This is where they kept me and my mother," she says, shaking her head. "Still the same, I see. Always is, I guess," she says with a fatalistic sigh and shrugs.  "So, what else did I miss?" she then asks, giving Desmond – and the kid – a curious look.

"Well," Zack says, looking around with more interest – guess that explains the flowers on the walls. Brightening the place up, bringing a bit of life inside, whatever way they could. Damn, that's sad, he thinks, taking a few steps to the right and then stopping, trying not to feel as freaked out about all of this as he really wants to. "We stole some uniforms, Cloud got into a fight –"

Aerith glances at the guy and grins. "Nothing new there –"

"Hey," Cloud objects, looking up. His eyes are a little bloodshot. "I didn't get into a fight, I had a duel –"

"Same difference, when it comes to SOLDIERs," Zack waves a hand and takes out his PHS. "I filmed it, actually, it was pretty cool – hang on a moment..." His fingers are shaking a little, weird...

Aerith looks at him and then at Cloud and hums. "And you, Desmond?" she asks, bouncing to her feet and moving towards Desmond. "What did you get up to – and who's the little guy?" She leans in, smiling, to see.

Desmond leans back a little, letting her have a better look at the kid. "I broke into a lab, broke some specimens out, found this one among them, accidently unleashed Sephiroth upon the world early, and then rounded back," he says, looking at the kid. "He was in a Mako tank. I couldn't leave him."

"Of course not," Aerith agrees crouching down beside him, and Zack pauses to watch, as the pair attend to the kid, Aerith checking him over gently while Desmond holds him in his lap. It's – there's something about it. Ancients and innocent kids, maybe. Something about it just strikes a weird, profound chord.

It kind of feels like she's missing the point, though – what with Sephiroth loose in the building, killing ShinRa Presidents. Not that Zack feels any terrible loss about it, there wasn't a person on the planet who didn't think President Shinra wasn't a corrupt asshole, but come on... 

Shuddering, Zack begins to pace, turning his attention to the PHS. Cloud, Roche, fight, video, right... And to think he thought that was weird.

"He's a Sephiroth clone," Aerith announces then, and Zack almost drops his PHS, while Cloud's head whips up in alarm. She sighs, looking at her cousin. "Oh, Desmond."

"What?" the guy asks, wary. "What does that mean?"

"It means that he... probably won't make it. They rarely do," Aerith admits quietly, stroking the kid's pale hair.  "I can feel almost nothing within him – that's not a good sign."

"But – he's breathing fine, though. Heartbeat steady and everything," Desmond says sharply, shaking his head and looking at the kid, turning him over a little. Against the dark blue SOLDIER uniform, the kid looks even paler than before, and the white hoodie he's wrapped in doesn't make him look any healthier. Desmond makes a face. "Sure, the kid's been out of it, but – he's alive."

Aerith just looks at him sadly and then looks at the kid, shaking her head "He is, but… I'm sorry."

"No – no. This kid's important. I can see that he's important," Desmond says, shaking his head and tugging at the hoodie, securing it more firmly around the kid before bringing him close. "Eagle Vision doesn't make mistakes about these things. He's going to make it."

Aerith sighs but doesn't object, just shakes her head.

"What does that mean – Sephiroth clone?" Cloud asks, his expression pinched, watching Desmond.

"Hojo's been trying to recreate Sephiroth ever since Nibelheim – inserting his and Jenova's cells into other people, trying to turn them into clones," Aerith says, hugging herself. "Some attempts were more successful than others, but none of them really worked. I think with this kid, he might have started from the ground up – with an embryo. The kid is about the right age."

Cloud shudders, and Zack quietly puts his PHS away. That's what Hojo tried to do with Cloud, and him. It didn't take with Zack, SOLDIER treatments had already mutated his cells and it didn't take, but Cloud… Cloud didn't have previous mutations.

"What happens to them, the clones?" Zack asks quietly. "They degrade?"

"Some of them. Not all of them," Aerith says, glancing at Cloud. "Some Sephiroth can… control to some extent, he can influence them."

"And now he's back," Zack mutters.

Desmond looks up. "Degrade – what does that mean?" he asks, arms protective around the kid again.

"I don't know the full science, never was much for brainy stuff, but… I knew a few SOLDIERs who had their insides messed up with this kind of stuff," Zack says. "I guess they started to age faster or something. They went grey, became sickly, weak… if they didn't die in a fight, then they just… died."

"The President – when we were trying to bomb the Mako Reactor Five," Cloud speaks up quietly. "The President said that accelerated cellular degradation was the common cause of death for SOLDIERs. That every SOLDIER knew."

"Definitely wasn't common knowledge when I joined up," Zack mutters. But, after what happened with Genesis, Angeal… Sephiroth… guess it's not surprising that it became common knowledge, afterwards. "Fuck – every SOLDIER?"

"Not Cloud," Aerith says quietly. "Cloud doesn't degrade. I – I don't know about you, Zack, but… Cloud won't degrade. He won't even age."

Cloud blinks and lifts his head. "What?" he asks, flat.

Aerith shrugs, wincing a little. "I don't know why, sorry – something that happened to you, something Hojo did, it… worked better than he knows. The first time, you lived a pretty long time."

Cloud stares at her for a long moment and then blankly shakes his head, standing up and walking to the furthest corner of the room, facing away from them. For a moment they watch as he tries to breathe evenly, but even Desmond doesn't say anything to him, so they leave him be, as awkward as it is.

"... And the kid?" Desmond asks quietly, his face pale. "He's gonna just die of old age, before even growing up?"

"Desmond, I'm sorry – I'm not convinced he will even wake up," Aerith says, shaking her head. "He feels so faint, like… there's nothing there."

Desmond looks down at the kid and says nothing, running his fingers through the kid's pale hair and looking away. For a long moment, none of them say anything, and the only sounds are the constant hum of the air vents – and Cloud's shaky breaths in the corner.

Sighing heavily, Zack goes to sit beside Aerith. Immediately she reaches to take his hand into hers, and Zack gives her dainty hand a gentle squeeze. It helps, a little.

 "... What do we do now?" he asks quietly, looking at Aerith. "President ShinRa is dead and Sector Seven is saved, yay. Sephiroth is back and wrecking havoc, not so yay. So, uh… what's next?"

"We go after him?" Desmond asks, something tight about his voice as he brings 18 up to his chest again, hugging the kid close.

"I don't...  I don't know," Aerith admits and runs her free hand over her face. "The previous times, Sephiroth went after the Black Materia, and used the Meteor to try and kill everything. I don't know if he will do that this time – it didn't work, the last time."

"But didn't it happen last time? You told me, the Meteor – he succeeded, didn't he?" Desmond asks, frowning. 

"Yes, and it didn't change anything. The Planet just died faster," Aerith says with a weak shrug. "I don't – I think – aww man, I don't even want to know what Sephiroth is thinking, but last time, it almost seemed like he wanted to save the Planet. But he wanted to do it by killing everything on it – because if there's no one left alive, then there's no one left to hurt the Planet anymore, right?"

Zack exchanges a look with Desmond. "Uhh… I'm guessing it doesn't work like that."

"No. No – without living things, there's no flow of souls to the Planet. The pump that keeps the Lifestream flowing, without living things being born and dying, it stops," Aerith says, her shoulders slumping. "Without plants and animals and everything else… The Lifestream will just wither away and die too."

"And that's what happened the last time. Everything on the Planet died, and the Planet followed suit," Desmond asks, turning his attention back to the kid.

"It was a quicker death," Aerith murmurs. "But no less painful."

"Right," Zack says, blowing out a heavy breath, hoping that he gets it and suspecting that he probably doesn't. "Any chance Sephiroth might've… learned his lesson about that?"

Aerith shakes her head. "I don't know," she admits. "We're not exactly on speaking terms."

Desmond tilts his head, looking up again. "Why not?" he asks. "He's in the building, isn't he? We could just ask him."

They turn to look at him. He blinks at them. "What?"

"He's an insane mass murderer," Zack says slowly. "He burned Cloud's hometown to the ground. Almost killed both of us."

"He did kill me," Aerith adds. "Twice!"

Desmond makes a face, glancing at Cloud, who's still leaning his forehead against a wall and shuddering. "I'm sorry, you all have my utmost condolences," Desmond says, shaking his head. "But we could still just ask him. Assuming the guy can speak, of course. Who knows, he might even tell us."

Aerith frowns at that, and Zack folds his arms. "You want to… talk with Sephiroth?"

"No, personally I want to go find Hojo and put a knife through his neck," Desmond says, shaking his head. "But there's a bigger picture to be considered. We have a world to save, my personal hang ups will have to wait. Sephiroth is the thing that tips the scales, right? His actions will ultimately lead to the planet's death. So, if by talking we can get him to stop, then... hell." 

"I wouldn't put our chances of success there very high," Aerith admits.

"They will be zero if we don't even try," Desmond says, shrugging, and looks down at the kid again.

Zack hesitates and looks at Aerith. "Um… Could we talk to him?"

"I don't know, I – maybe," Aerith admits. "I mean, he can hear, and speak. Last time every time we ran into him, he…it kind of seemed like he was just messing with Cloud, spouting these grandiose phrases, trying to manipulate him and us." her eyes stray towards Cloud, who seems a little calmer – but is still facing the corner.  "Cloud – do you think, has he been… trying to get into your head?"

"Why me?" Cloud groans.

"Because, uh. You killed him. You killed him loads of times, and I think it... left an impression?" Aerith asks, apologetic.

Cloud bangs his forehead against the wall once and then sighs. "Sure, whatever," he says. "I think he – he can sense me."

"... What?" Zack asks, turning to face him. "How can you tell? Can he get into your head?"

"Yeah – no. I don't know," Cloud says, rubbing his forehead. "I can feel him. And he can feel me. He's moving – I don't –"

Zack and Aerith exchange looks. "He can feel where you are?" Zack asks slowly.

"I think so."

Aerith blinks slowly. "Sephiroth cells tend to attract each other," she murmurs thoughtfully and runs a hand over her chin in thought. "Maybe we can use this. Maybe… maybe we can call him to us?"

… fuck. They're actually considering it. They're seriously considering it.

"Okay," Zack sighs. Well, he's never been one to run away from a problem. "Right – first things first though – Aerith, babe, I got something for you. Can't go around the ShinRa Building –" or run for your life, "in an evening gown, now can you?"

"Hmm?" Aerith says, interested, and Zack brings out the box. Her eyes narrow as she peers inside and then brighten as she sees what's waiting for her. "Oh, Zack!"

There's one upside to this whole mess. She looks absolutely adorable in a SOLDIER uniform.

Outside, ShinRa is in chaos. There's an announcement eventually, popping up on the various screens interspersed around the labs – the company is broadcasting a building-wide alarm and evacuating non-military members from the top levels. Of course there's no actual clarification of what happened, there wouldn't be until ShinRa elite decided how they wanted to spin it, but the evacuation is a message enough. 

"Level 2 emergency is in effect – please evacuate level 66 to level 71. Level 2 emergency is in effect – please evacuate –"

"Level 2 usually means there's something dangerous running rampant," Zack explains. "Usually a rogue experiment, monster or a robot. Used to be we had a level 2 every other week in the labs around here."

"Charming," Desmond says, flat.

Zack glances at him, at the kid, and then grimaces. The guy is really taking the whole thing hard, huh.  "Yeah, I don't like this at all either," he says, blowing out a breath. "Why here? Why do we have to call him here?"

They're standing in front of the remains of Jenova's pod in the upper levels of floor 68, just by the pit of gunk and pipes and over the void that is the Drum. The whole place is echoing with the emergency announcement, and it stinks – and it's still steaming like a fresh pile of – of something probably better than this.

"Less chances of collateral damage," Desmond says from where he's sitting on a broken control console, the kid in his lap. "And it's open enough for a quick, easy getaway."

"Places like these are designed to keep things in, not let them out," Cloud says grimly, standing beside him, leaning onto the console he's sitting on. Not so surreptitiously, he's throwing glances at the guy – and the kid he's holding. "All it takes is a flick of a switch, and we're stuck."

"It's probably fine, I can see about fourteen different vent entrances," Desmond shrugs. "And I bet, between you two, you can figure out a way to cut through the walls."

"I don't know, this place has pretty damn thick walls," Zack mutters and then glances at Aerith, who's eying the pit of gunk. "What do you think, Aerith – should we relocate?"

"Hmm… no, this is the best place for it," Aerith says, regretful. "With Cloud, the boy and these remains… this will be the highest concentration of Jenova's cells here, aside from Jenova herself. Together, they will call to him."

Well that's not creepy at all. "Right, but – what if we do get trapped in here? Hojo probably has all kinds of mechanisms here to keep the monsters here in check – what if we –" 

There's a feeling that makes Zack's breath stall and a sound that makes all the hair in the back of his neck stand on end. A wet, oozing feeling, cold and, well… icky. Like something slimy on his skin, except in his brain. And then… a chuckle.

"Cloud," a soft, deep, terribly familiar voice rumbles, and Cloud answers it with a noise of pain, swaying and crumbling against Desmond, who's quickly hopping down to support him.

It's him – suddenly, he's just there, right in the middle of their group. There's something wrong with him, and it's not just that he's supposed to be dead or the fact that he can apparently teleport – all SOLDIERs can move fast, sometimes faster than the human eye can keep up, but this… this is something else. His visage pulses and flickers like a hologram in a fritz, and the smell…

Sephiroth looks exactly like Zack remembers him, down to the sword, but there's something wrong with the whole image.

"You've been calling me," Sephiroth purrs, turning slowly to face Cloud, who's now clutching his forehead in both hands and moaning. Sephiroth smiles, and it looks almost joyous. "You never call me…"

Zack's fingers are convulsed around his sword grip, he's this close to pulling it out and stepping up in Cloud's defence – but Aerith steps up first.

"Sephiroth," she says, so brave for all that her hands are shaking. "We need to talk."

The way he looks at her is frankly disturbing – his eyes, they're all wrong. He's also holding a sword, and… Fuck it, fuck taking it easy and being nice with this – they're already playing with fire here. Taking his sword, Zack steps up beside Aerith, to stand with her and to defend her if it comes to it. "Don't try it."

Sepiroth doesn't even react to him – it's like Zack isn't even there.  "What do we have to talk about?" Sephiroth asks Aerith, slow, almost teasing, and lifts the sword. 

This thing, it's not Sephiroth. It looks like Sephiroth, but it's like that time in Nibelheim – everything that made Sephiroth a hero has fled, and there's this thing, this mad alien euphoria in his eyes, in place of all the things Sephiroth once was.

Aerith looks down at the sword and trembles. "You want to save the Planet, right?" she asks, lifting her chin. "So do I. We should... talk."

Sephiroth's pupils narrow, slitted like a cat's, and he smiles, and there's nothing behind his eyes. "Once more you stand in my way. You always stand in my way. No more –"

Zack steps up even as Sephiroth pulls the sword back for a thrust – the Buster Sword clashes with the Masamune with the power and noise of a car crash. That gives the mad bastard pause – he even looks surprised.

"Hi," Zack snarls. "Remember me?"

Judging by the look Sephiroth gives him, the guy has no idea who he is. Somehow, even after everything, that still manages to hurt. 

Quickly Zack puts the Buster Sword in a guard. "Remember this?" he asks, not sure if he's daunting the guy – or begging. "Do you remember Angeal's sword?"

Oh, he remembers – and not fondly, judging by the reaction. The swing is almost powerful enough to knock Zack off his feet, powerful enough to send sparks flying. "Shit –" Zack hisses, bracing his weight against the blade, and still skidding back a little. Whatever happened to Sephiroth, it definitely didn't make him weaker.

"Zack!" Aerith calls, worried.

"Yeah, I don't think he can be reasoned with, you guys," Zack grunts, swinging his sword back to a ready position. "Go, run – I'll buy you some time –"

Aerith answers by stepping up beside him instead and lifting her arms, one bracing the other, like she's holding a gun. There's a whirl of glowing green power around her bare arms, as she aims a finger gun at Sephiroth – and then fires a laser beam of pure magic from it. It hits Sephiroth right in the chest and tears right through the illusion, and for a moment they see the thing underneath, the pale blue skin, interspersed with vivid purple veins, oozing –

What the –? Zack thinks and then looks at Aerith, shaking her hands with a wince. "Whoa – since when can you do that?"

"Ray of Judgement, it takes a lot of power, ouch," Aerith explains and quickly grabs Zack's arm, trying to pull him back. Come on. "We'll all escape together, no one is getting left behind – Desmond!" 

"Right," Desmond answers, one arm around the kid and trying to get completely frozen Cloud moving with the other, backing away on the catwalk. There's a gleam of golden light around him – and then there are three guys in white hoods, appearing from nowhere and rushing past Zack and Aerith, launching themselves at Sephiroth.

"Run," Aerith says, pulling at Zack, who's starting at Sephiroth, now being attacked from three fronts. It doesn't seem to be doing much against him – and the glimpse of the thing underneath, it's already gone. Sephiroth, however he's doing, whatever he's doing, has already recovered.

"No, we need to fight him – we need to kill him –" Cloud snaps.

"It won't do anything, he's not actually even here, it's just a projection – just run!" Aerith shouts. "At least while he's possessing Jenova we know where he is and what he's up to – now go!"

Sephiroth is smiling, eyes shining with eerie green light, swinging his sword in powerful, wide arcs, and the summons are only barely dodging the blows. Desmond somehow gets Cloud moving, and finally getting the idea, Zack turns as well, gripping Aerith's hand with one hand, his sword with the other – his mind overcome with confusion.

Sephiroth didn't know him, Sephiroth didn't know the Buster Sword. If he can't even remember that much, then… then is he even Sephiroth? Or is the Sephiroth Zack knew and worked with and looked up to as a hero, is he… gone? And if he's gone, then...

Then who the hell is this guy?

Behind them, Sephiroth destroys the three summons without mercy, and then sets out – in pursuit.

Chapter Text

It takes a trip down to the front lobby before Cloud feels clear-headed again. It's probably a testament of the chaos Sephiroth is wrecking across the building that no one stops them or even seems to particularly care about them. With the entrance barred by a line of infantry troopers, preventing anyone from leaving for security reasons, the lobby is full of people, infantry troopers and office workers, and they're all too busy filling the air with the cacophony of their talking to take notice of them.

"... Always said – didn't I? I always said that having the science labs directly below the executive suite is a mistake…"

"... sort of monster, I think, one of the Professor's creations…"

"... Hear it broke through all the doors in its way and just busted into the executive levels – I think some troopers died –"

"... Letting anyone leave, then? If it's a monster then why are they worried about an information leak?"

"... Wutai, there's been a lot of sabotage recently, and the reactors too – oh, it's horrible, what if there's been some damage, electrical issues, we did have some power surges here…"

Giving the barred exit a glare through his helmet, Cloud follows Zack and Aerith into a corner of the lobby, just past the cafe, Desmond keeping the tail. Somewhere above he can also feel Sephiroth, a little more distant but still there, like some sort of unnatural artificial sun behind the clouds, radiating heat that seems to cut him through to the bone.

"Shit," Zack sighs, sitting down on a bench, Aerith beside him, her hair spilling out from under her helmet. "What the hell was that?"

"That was him," she sighs.

"Is he always like that?"

"Usually worse, actually."

Cloud frowns and then moves to the side of them, to lean against the wall where he can keep an eye on the lobby. It's packed with people – hundreds of them. The air is full of their noise, and it's grating on every frayed nerve in his body.

Desmond doesn't look much better, sitting on another bench, the catatonic kid in his lap, wrapped in a hoodie. There's a pinched look of agitation in his face that Cloud's not seen before – the guy is usually so chill. Guess there are things even he can't just shake off.

"What do we do now?" Cloud asks, looking away from the guy and at Aerith. "Do we leave?" If they even can leave, with the exits all apparently blocked…

"I don't know," Aerith admits quietly. "He's here, we're here, and there's something – maybe we can do something here. I just need to think… it feels like I'm forgetting something important."

Cloud gives her an uneasy look. To him it seems like there's a lot more things she doesn't know than things she does, which doesn't particularly inspire confidence. Of course there are then the things she does know – Cloud won't age – which honestly aren't that comforting either. The whole thing is like a big mess, made messier by the fact that half of the time Cloud feels like his brain is made of mush.

At least the migraine has abated. A little.

"It's weird," Zack sighs, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "It didn't feel like him at all."

"What do you mean?" Aerith asks.

"Sephiroth, it was like there was no one there. Like he was just – I don't know. Not empty exactly, but lacking. Like everything I knew about him was just gone," Zack shakes his head. "His eyes, man. Like a pair of glass marbles. Nothing behind them."

Aerith frowns, clasping her hands together. "I guess he might've forgotten some things too."

"Hah – everything, more like. He didn't know me – didn't know this," Zack pats his sword. "This was once the sword of one of Sephiroth's best friends, and I don't think he remembers him at all."

"... Sephiroth had friends?" Aerith asks while Cloud makes a face, trying to remember.

"Yeah, fellow First Classes. They were pretty tight, Sephiroth, Angeal and Genesis," Zack agrees and sighs. "Genesis was the first one to degrade, then Angeal... after that, I think it was just me that was close to him. After I got promoted, we went on a bunch of missions together. I thought… I thought we were at least friendly, if not friends. Didn't think anyone could ever replace Angeal and Genesis, they were that close. Didn't think anything could make him forget them, either…"

Cloud scowls at the floor. He can't remember any of that – but why would he, he was never a SOLDIER. He can remember Sephiroth though, a lot about him – or it felt like a lot, but now... now he's not sure there's anything from before Nibelheim…

Shaking his head, Cloud pushes the thoughts aside – they're useless – and looks at the crowds again. No one is paying them any attention, and they're still so loud.

"... Long will this take, I have work to do…"

"... Any word on casualties…"

"... If the specimens break into our offices – I left my purse in there!"

"What happened to him, really? I know we killed him, Cloud dealt the killing blow. I'm pretty sure he fell into the Mako, but – he's not dead? How does that work?"

Cloud looks to the bench and at Zack, who's looking at Aerith.

"I think he did die," Aerith says slowly. "No, he did. Normally when people die and join the Lifestream, they eventually get… dispersed in it, becoming one with everything else, their memories joining the Planet – and eventually their energy is, I guess, reincarnated in some new form of life. Sephiroth didn't though, he didn't disperse. His will stayed intact. Cloud – the future Cloud – he had a theory that it was Sephiroth's hatred of him that kept him coming back."

Looking away, Cloud shudders. Future him – from how far into the future? Years, decades, fucking centuries?

"I don't think it was that in the beginning, though. I'm not sure Sephiroth really cared about Cloud in the very beginning, not before Cloud really started getting in his way, and Sephiroth was killed for the second time," Aerith muses. "I think… I think in the beginning, it was Jenova."

"The – thing he's possessing?" Desmond asks quietly.

"Sephiroth once said Jenova was his mother's name," Zack comments.

Aerith shakes her head. "Hojo injected Sephiroth with enough Jenova's cells that it mutated him, but he has an actual human mother. Lucrecia Crescent – she was a scientist in the Project. But I guess Hojo would consider Jenova more Sephiroth's kin than her. He's that kind of insane."

Folding his arms, Cloud scans the crowd through his helmet visor. It feels like there's someone looking at them. "Right – and what is Jenova, exactly?" he asks tensely.

"The Calamity That Came From The Skies. She's the thing that killed the Ancients," Aerith says, shuddering. "ShinRa found her in the Northern Crater and begun experimenting on her, thinking she was an Ancient. She isn't. She's just... evil."

"I think they inject every SOLDIER with a bit of her," Zack says grimly. "It's what lets us take in so much Mako – it should give us poisoning, but the mutations from our first treatments, if they take, let us… digest Mako, I guess."

"Yeah," Aerith agrees with a sigh. "I think so, yeah. That kid," she adds, looking at Desmond. "Has Jenova cells injected in him too – along with Sephiroth's."

Desmond's brow furrows – he's holding one of the kid's hands in his, looking at the fingers. "Can someone explain to me this whole cloning business," he says. "Because I think I'm missing something."

"They take cells from the original and inject them into the people they want to turn into clones," Zack says, sighing and folding his arms. "Back when we were SOLDIERs, there was this scientist, Hollander, he tried to heal Genesis' degradation by turning a bunch of SOLDIER Thirds and Seconds into Genesis' copies. Monsters too – it was… weird. I guess Hojo's been doing the same with Sephiroth, after Sephiroth died."

Desmond hums. "And that's… how it always works? You take two people, inject the cells of one into the other and boom, a clone?"

"I think it only works with Jenova cells," Aerith says. "Or cells derived from Jenova cells. I think they, sort of, mixed and matched early on? It works the best when injected in utero, that's how they got Sephiroth. He was injected with Jenova cells when he was still in his mother's womb."

"Yeah, that's the impression I got. That's how they got Genesis and Angeal too," Zack says thoughtfully. "Their cells were all special afterwards."

Cloud doesn't understand half of this, but going by the way Desmond is looking at them… he does. "So," he says slowly. "Jenova is like… a retrovirus?"

Aerith blinks. "A what?"

"At least that's what it sounds like – they're using Jenova's cells to carry and change genetic information," Desmond hums. "Huh. I guess that's a – faster method of making a clone. Back where I come from they have to start from the ground up, with an embryo, and stuff."

Aerith and Zack exchange a look through their helmets, so even they have no idea what he's talking about. "Um," Aerith says. "I guess so? They have clones where you come from?"

"Just experiments with animals. Sheep and stuff," Desmond shrugs and looks at the kid, thoughtful. "So here's a question, do the clones and people that got the retroviral treatment, do they degrade because of damage done to their cells by Mako or whatever – or the damage done to their DNA? Because it kinda sounds like it would be a bit hard on the cell division."

There's a moment of silence, all of them eyeing the guy with various levels of confusion before Aerith finally asks, carefully, "... What's DNA?"

Desmond looks up slowly, and then huffs out a breath. "Right, you probably call it something different – it's the abbreviation for… actually I don't remember what. The, you know, genetic information. The code that builds living things, that tells your cells what they should be, what they should do. What do you call it?"

Aerith shakes her head slowly. "Um –"

Something pings Cloud's senses, and he quickly drags his eyes away from Desmond – there's someone walking towards them, a SOLDIER Second Class with a helmet on. Immediately going tense, Cloud bites back the urge to grab for his sword, but loosens his folded arms, just in case. "Heads up – we've got company."

On the bench, Aerith makes an aborted move to hide herself – at a distance, her disguise as a SOLDIER is pretty convincing thanks to the belt, but close up her arms give it away. On the other bench, Desmond makes a thoughtful noise and leans back, seemingly perfectly at ease. Zack, though – Zack stands up to meet the SOLDIER.

"You," the Second says, an authoritative tone in his voice. "Where did you get that sword?"

Zack's lips press together, his hands squeezing into fists. "From the original owner," he says then and relaxes his hands. "Hey, Kunsel. Long time no see."

Oh. 

"... Zack?" the SOLDIER asks slowly. "You… it really was you, then? The two research subjects that escaped from Nibelheim. One of them was you."

Cloud blinks with surprise, glancing at Zack. That's… a pretty quick conclusion to draw – but Zack doesn't seem particularly surprised.

"Yeah," he agrees with a wry grin. "Yeah, that was me – you gonna turn me in, buddy?"

Kunsel glances around and then shakes his head. "Hell no," he says. "But man – why are you here? If they catch you here – I don't even want to know what they'll do to you. Nothing good, probably."

"They've got bigger things to worry about right now," Zack snorts and then reaches to pull the guy into a quick hug. "It's good to see you, man. How long has it been, five years?"

"Almost, yeah. The place hasn't been the same since then, let me tell you," Kunsel says, clapping Zack on the back and then leaning away. "They don't even make Firsts anymore, you know, not after you. The upgrades were deemed too volatile."

Zack snorts. "Yeah, tell me about it," he says with a shake of his head.

Cloud looks at them uncertainly and then glances at Desmond and Aerith. Aerith looks relieved, if a little confused. Desmond is looking at Kunsel with thoughtful consideration, bringing the kid up to his arms again. Neither does anything, so Cloud folds his arms again and leans back. Probably better to let Zack handle it.

"What are you doing here?" Kunsel asks seriously. "Did you have anything to do with what's going on in the upper floors?"

"Eh, maybe a little bit?" Zack admits, scratching at his neck and then becoming serious. "Did you know that ShinRa was planning to drop the Sector Seven Plate?"

"... What? No kidding?"

"Yeah. They were going to drop it and blame it on the Avalanche," Zack says grimly. "We came here to stop it."

Succeeded too, Cloud muses, if not the way they thought they would. But who the hell would even believe something like that? He's been here the whole time, and he barely believes it.

Kunsel blows out a sigh. "Shit. I heard some rumours about ShinRa thinking of cutting their losses here – I mean, the Sector Six construction had been on hold for years, now, it's pretty obvious they're never going to finish it, but…" he trails away. "It has to be because of the bombing. With two reactors out of commission, they can't power the city anymore. Not the full city. But you stopped it?"

… Okay then. Guess it's not that hard to believe.

"Yeah," Zack agrees, shaking his head. "Fuck, man, gotta say – I've missed you. Could've really used your brains on the run."

"Yeah, that can't have been easy. I heard they sent a lot of guys after you," Kunsel hums, and shakes his head. "Man, I can't believe it – it's true what they say on the top levels, then? Sephiroth is here too? He's the other specimen that ran, right – and he killed the President?"

"... Uhh," Zack answers, while Cloud lets out a snort.

"Man," Kunsel says, shaking his head. "Always thought the word of him being killed in action in Nibelheim had to be bullshit. I mean, it's Sephiroth. And now he saved a whole Sector. Once a hero, always a hero, huh?"

Zack just gapes at him, and Cloud shakes his head. "Yeah, real heroic, the way he burned Nibelheim to the ground and killed everyone. And so much for ShinRa loyalty," Cloud says to Kunsel. "You don't seem to care much about the fact that the President is dead."

Kunsel looks at him and then tilts his head. "... Cloud? Is that you?"

Shit, right, this guy knew him too, once. Cloud presses his lips together and says nothing, looking away.

"Sephiroth… he was the one who burned Nibelheim to the ground? But then…" Kunsel looks at Zack.

"Yeah, we're not with him – it was kind of a terrible convenient… coincidence, I guess." Zack clears his throat. "What's, uh, what's the word on that anyway? Upstairs, I mean – what's ShinRa's reaction?"

Kunsel shrugs. "Not sure – Turks are evacuating the VIPs and containing the situation, no word yet on how they're going to spin it," he says, slow – he's not looking at Zack, though. Finally noticed Desmond with the kid and Aerith the very-much-not-a-man. "... My money is on them blaming it on Wutai, that seems to be the general mood. Right now, though, it's all about controlling the situation. I'm actually here looking for people to rope into monster duty – there are some specimens that escaped from the labs that no one wants to deal with."

"Including you, since you're going to pin it on someone else," Zack snorts.

Kunsel shrugs. "I got a word about 4 SOLDIERs down here, just sitting around doing nothing," he says wryly. "I'm guessing that's you."

Zack clears his throat. "Well…" he says sheepishly.

"This is probably our cue to leave," Cloud comments flatly, giving the others a look.

"I don't know, this could be interesting," Desmond murmurs, wrapping his arms around the kid and standing up. He looks at Aerith. "There's stuff we can do here. You know – like in Sector Five?"

"Hmm?" she asks, distracted. "Well, we can't leave with Sephiroth still here," she says and then snaps her fingers in frustration. "I'm forgetting something, it's right on the tip of my tongue."

"Maybe it will come to you," Desmond says and turns to Kunsel. "Who knows, maybe doing some SOLDIER stuff will let us blend in, do a little digging."

"You can't be serious," Cloud says flatly. "What about Sephiroth?"

Desmond shrugs. "I'm assuming he'll follow us, right? All the better if we don't leave the building."

Cloud opens his mouth to argue, but – he's not wrong. Even now, Sephiroth is looking for him, Cloud can feel it – a slow creeping of the feeling, getting ever closer.

It probably would be better if they… confined the thing inside the ShinRa Building and didn't risk innocent people getting caught in the crossfire.

"So, uh," Zack says. "We stay here, pretend to be SOLDIERs?"

"Aerith?" Desmond asks.

She grins, bouncing to her feet. "I always knew I would be the best SOLDIER ever!"

They turn to Kunsel – who's looking at Aerith in amazement. "... Is that the flower girl?" he asks, and Aerith waves at him in greeting. "Damn."

Zack claps him on the back and sighs. "My friend, it's been a really weird day. Come on, let me bring you up to speed. Also," he says, gripping the back of the guy's neck, "Stop ogling my girl."

The mission Kunsel gives them is a little dubious. "It's pretty straightforward. There are some escaped research specimens in level 66 that need to be contained – or, if need be, killed. The science department would prefer if they were captured, of course, but that's not always viable. Just do what you can."

Kunsel even gives them a key card that gets them around the building, and so they end up back in level 66, tracking down the monsters Desmond unleashed.

The only good thing is that Sephiroth isn't there, or any level above them – he's somewhere between levels 66 and the lobby by now, slowly turning to follow them again, this time with a lot less ground to cover.

"This is stupid – why are we doing this?" Cloud demands through gritted teeth. "We were just here! Why are we doing missions for SOLDIERs?"

"Well," Zack says, scratching the back of his neck.

"It's important?" Desmond offers, wincing.

"Important how?"

"I don't know yet – I just know that by helping Kunsel out, we'll get closer to figuring it out," Desmond says. "Also I want to sneak a peak at Hojo's research and see what the hell the guy was actually doing."

"Wouldn't mind a glance myself," Zack says grimly. "If they know all the SOLDIERs degrade, they must've made some study about it, maybe there's something about how to fix it."

Cloud grimaces. "Yeah… and we don't even know if you degrade or not," he mutters. "Maybe there's a way to tell?"

Zack hums. "There's that too, but... Kunsel joined about the same time as I did," he says, his shoulders slumping. "Been seven, maybe eight years now. If he isn't degrading yet, then…"

"All the more reason to snoop around and dig into things," Desmond says, looking down at the kid. "Maybe we'll figure something out for the little fella, too."

Cloud looks at him, at the way he's looking at the kid, and sighs. Okay, maybe it's not so pointless, coming back, but… "Sephiroth is still following me," he says uncomfortably. "He's going to catch up eventually if we stay here."

"Guess we better be quick, then," Zack says, grinning sharply. "So, which way do we try first? Aerith?"

"There's something here I forgot," Aerith says, distracted, looking away. "Damnit. Desmond, it's important to me – can you see it?"

"Hmm? There's a lot of important things in this building," Desmond admits. "Also I can't see well in here, there are too many memories – you're going to have to be a bit more specific."

"Something on this level. I think it's a person. Or – a creature?"

Zack and Cloud exchange confused looks while Desmond stops to look around. He's staring at – or maybe through – a wall. It's hard to tell with the helmet. "I think – yeah, there's something here. Might be one of the specimens, but – yeah. This way."

Cloud sighs. The guy can see through walls now. Okay then, why not. The day's weird enough already.

Chapter Text

Aerith is making friends with a talking… Desmond has no idea what he is, it feels disrespectful to call him a dog, or a cat, since he's clearly neither. But at the same time he's a little bit both. He also has a tail on fire. It's very cool, but also kinda confusing.

Aerith seems to have no issues, though. "I'm Aerith, this is my cousin Desmond, my boyfriend Zack and our very good friend, Cloud," she introduces them brightly. "It is very good to meet you!"

"You too, Miss. Hojo called me Red XIII," their fellow research specimen says, flaming trail flickering. "You can call me whatever you like, I care not. Thank you for releasing me."

"I'd say it's no trouble, Red, but there's actually a lot of trouble happening around here," Zack says, peering into the darkened corridors, now lit only with emergency lighting. "Sorry to say, this is not the best of circumstances."

"Yes, I have seen the research specimens roaming the halls," Red says, looking at them, one-eyed but perceptive. "This is your doing?"

"Guilty as charged!" Aerith says brightly. "And we're probably going to release the rest of them too, at this rate."

"You know we are supposed to contain and exterminate, not release more specimens," Cloud says dryly. "Isn't that what we promised Kunsel?"

"Well…"

"Many of these creatures are in terrible pain, they crave for release from it. It would be mercy to put them out of their misery," Red says grimly, catching Desmond's interest. He can feel that – when others are in pain? "Hojo has not been kind to them."

"Hojo never is – but let's figure out if we can help anyone here, before we start putting them out of their misery," Aerith says thoughtfully. "I'm a pretty good healer, maybe I can release them from their pain."

"That… seems like an overly optimistic approach, Miss, but I'll commend you for your positivity."

Putting away the knowledge that Red has some mysterious abilities too, apparently, Desmond turns away, arms wrapped loosely around 18. "Can we find a console to access now – I really want to take a look at Hojo's research."

"Yeah, me too," Zack says, patting his back in passing. "Come on, this way – pretty sure the observation deck will have access to all of Hojo's files."

"Here's hoping they're not encrypted," Desmond mutters.

Red trails them interestedly as they climb to the observation deck, where Zack and Cloud work together to access the files. "Haven't updated the system much, huh," Zack mutters, tapping some keys. "Doesn't look like Hojo's bothering to hide his research either."

"Why would he – only his people have access to this place," Cloud says, shaking his head. "No one else is supposed to even be able to even get in here."

"Sloppy, if you ask me, but I'm not complaining," Zack grins. "And we're in – what are we looking into first? The kid?"

Cloud glances at Desmond, who leans in to see with Aerith, as they open a folder of hundreds of files. "Yeah – the kid."

The file on 18 isn't any less horrifying than what they'd seen so far – more so, even. One of Hojo's research assistants had gotten pregnant a few months after Sephiroth's death, and Hojo had in parts bought and in parts extorted the baby from her, still in utero. The moment she signed over the rights, he began injecting the kid with S-cells and J-cells, in an attempt to recreate Sephiroth. The woman had died at eight months of pregnancy. The kid had lived, but he'd never been conscious.

The whole thing is… beyond mad. Hojo's notes on the project have more conjecture on what he thought would happen and very little about what was actually happening. A few notes on the kid's mutated cells, the fact that he came out prematurely grey and green-eyed – like Sephiroth – despite the fact that the kid's mother was a brown-eyed brunette… mostly it was about his Mako response and retention, how he was reacting to the treatment. Nothing on what the retroviral therapy was doing to the kid's DNA, very little about what was going on inside his cells – Hojo didn't even seem to care about what was happening to the kid's brain, if anything.

Hell, even Vidic kept better notes on his experiments, and his work only drove people insane, he didn't go tinkering around their cells. Not that that's a comforting comparison to make, exactly. None of this is particularly comforting, really.

Desmond cups one hand around the back of 18's head and steps back, feeling a little sick. Well… at least the notes explain why Aerith doesn't seem to believe in the kid's chances. Even if he'd wake up now, he's missed out on over three years of development. Shit.

"I'm sorry," Aerith murmurs, touching his shoulder. 

"Mm," Desmond answers, resting his cheek lightly on the kid's hair and trying to figure out what to do. "Pretty sure it's not your fault."

"I should've – do you want to…?" She trails away, uncomfortable, unable to say it.

"No," Desmond says, shaking his head. "No, if the kid is done for, then I'm going to make sure he gets some – some kindness before he goes. Even if the only thing I can do is to hold him."

Aerith swallows and nods, and then hugs him, quick but tight, before going to Zack, to see what else he'd found.

"This child is a creation of Hojo," Red says, thoughtful. 

"Yeah," Desmond sighs and crouches down so that Red can see the kid better. "Found him in a Mako tank in one of the labs. Probably shouldn't have gotten attached, huh?" he asks with a weak grin.

Red sniffs at the kid's foot and exhales. "Such things are hard to control. You have my sympathies."

"Thanks," Desmond sighs and runs a hand over his eyes before looking at the kid, really looking at him. The silver hair, the soft, childish features. For all that he'd spent his whole life in a tank, the kid looks normal enough, physically. Has all his fingers and toes and regular enough arrangement of limbs, he looks neither malnourished nor over nourished. Honestly, 18 looks like just a normal, admittedly grey-haired, three year old kid, who's just... sleeping. 

Desmond breathes in and out, and then in again, slower. Being back in the labs is getting to him again, though not as much as before. Still… fuck.

He doesn't even have clothes to give to the kid.

What a fucking mess.

The – canine, feline? – specimen looks up at him and then hums. "You are not from around here, are you? The Lifestream does not hold you."

That's a new way of putting it. "Uhh… yeah. It's a long story," Desmond says with a weak laugh.

"Hmm."

"Found it," Zack says in triumph. "SOLDIER project, still ongoing – let's see what's the latest..."

Desmond glaces back at them. Going by his reaction, and Aerith's, it's not good. Cloud reads for a moment before stepping back with a guilty expression, sidling to Desmond and Red.

"Don't go getting all survivors guilty on us," Desmond says, only half joking. "Your immortality isn't your fault."

"Please don't call it that," Cloud sighs, running a hand over his eyes. 

"Either way, it's not like you asked for it, right? So no point in feeling guilty, it's not your doing," Desmond says.

Cloud lowers his hand and gives him an incredulous look. "Why are you comforting me? I clearly got the best deal in this whole fucking mess, you're stuck with a dying kid – I've got nothing to complain about, apparently. Why are you –" he stops there, frustrated.

"Even if you get the longest stick in the bunch, it's still a stick," Desmond shrugs. "And I'm taking a small break from my issues by concentrating on the issues of others and trying to help – it's how I deal. It makes me feel better."

Cloud frowns. "Oh," he says, shuffling his feet. "And here I was just about to ask if you wanted to go kill something."

Desmond blinks and then straightens up, looking at him with surprise, while Cloud looks away, cheeks reddening. Ah, right. "Well, never let it be said I'm not all for hands on methods for dealing," Desmond says, smiling. "But I'm good, thanks."

"Right," Cloud mutters, still embarrassed but also a little dubious. "Sure. You're dealing."

"Yep, feeling better now, thank you!" Desmond grins – and honestly, he is. 

"You know what, forget I said anything," Cloud grumbles, waving a hand at him and facing away. "Forget it."

It's really hard not to tease the guy, he's adorable. Geez. "If you say so, Cloud. Thanks for asking, though."

Red, watching them from the floor, flicks one ear and then asks, wary, "Do you enjoy killing, then?"

"What – no, that's not –" Cloud says, surprised, and then makes a face. 

"I guess it sounds kinda bad when you put it like that," Desmond snorts, shaking his head. "Nah, it's not that, Red – just an inside joke." 

Cloud leans back a little, looking like he's not sure how to take that.

"I see," Red says and shakes his head, looking away. "The other research specimens – some of them are looking to escape, but others have been badly hurt and only know pain and anger. They should be released from their torment, before they hurt anyone. I doubt I can do this alone."

"... oh," Desmond says and looks at Cloud. "I guess we're good for it – Aerith? Zack – are you guys done here?"

"I guess so," Zack sighs, while Aerith gives him a sideways hug of solidarity. "What's up?"

"The other research specimens – we should deal with them. Here, and upper levels, probably."

Zack and Aerith exchange a look, and she presses a kiss on his cheek before turning to look at them and smiling sadly. "Yeah, let's go."

What follows is probably the cleanup duty to end all cleanup duties. There are hundreds of specimens spread across the labs, some of them more human than others, others more insane than the rest – none of them in a particularly good shape. Some Aerith can heal with success, others not so much. Very few are in good enough shape to be just… left alone

"We should do something about them," Aerith murmurs, peering into one cage with small beasts, all curled against each other. 

"What can we do for them, though? We're on the 66th floor – in the middle of a city," Zack says, grimacing. "It's not like we can just open a window and go, fly little birdie. Most of these things can't fly."

And then there are the humans. There are a lot of humans. And it doesn't take long to figure out that very few – vanishingly small minority, really – consented to the experiments they are taking part in. Most of them are former ShinRa personnel – which has some terrible implications. Apparently company employment is taken as consent by the science department.

"I didn't sign up for this," one former infantryman sobs, rubbing at his legs – through the ragged clothes he's wearing, they can see the skin's all purple. "I didn't sign up for any of this."

"We need to do something about this," Cloud mutters, while Aerith tries to heal the guy – one of many. 

"Right," Zack says, scratching at his head. "But how are we going to get them out of there?"

Desmond looks around, humming. "Maybe there's a place where they can hide until we figure it out?" he asks. "There's a lot of rooms here that aren't in use – and in a pinch, the vents are big enough to hide all these people in them. We hide them and figure out an escape route."

Judging by the looks Zack and Cloud give him, neither is sure of their chances there.

And then there are the ones that have to be put down. As much as Aerith wants to heal everyone and bring them out of pain, most of the specimens are far beyond the point of helping. Some Desmond or Red put down, quietly and painlessly, Desmond watching cautiously as Red puts down another specimen with a sharp, powerful bite to the neck. He doesn't seem to be enjoying it.

"I can do it, if you want," Desmond offers quietly, showing him the hidden blade. "It's quick and painless."

"So is breaking the neck," Red says calmly, giving the animal he'd executed a gentle nudge. It's starting to break apart into green flickers. "I don't mind – death is a natural part of life. And it is a release to these ones – I am glad to provide them peace."

Desmond shakes his head in amazement and wonders, if he ever manages to actually build a Brotherhood here, maybe… maybe his first recruit wouldn't be human. Isn't that a thought.

The specimens that refuse to go down without a fight, Zack, Cloud and Aerith deal with. The division of labour happens almost naturally – Zack and Cloud in turns tank and in turns deal the hits, while Aerith uses her magic to keep their poor opponents from feeling pain. As horrible as it is, it's kind of fascinating to watch, too. Though almost everything they've put down return to the Lifestream and thus leave no body behind, these specimens are the ones that turn into energy the soonest.

"So, being not from around here, there's something I haven't figured out yet," Desmond admits, sitting on the sidelines with 18 and Red. "The whole turning into energy thing – it's not just the monsters that are born from Mako? Because I'm pretty sure that thing used to be a guy."

"The more Mako in your system, the more likely you are to be drawn into the Planet upon death. Normally, all creatures decompose," Red explains. "As is natural. But Mako treatments make these ones more magic than flesh, and so the Planet calls them home."

"Huh," Desmond says. Guess that makes sense. "You know a lot about this stuff."

Red flicks an ear at him and says nothing, laying down on his belly. Zack, Cloud and Aerith finish up, Aerith sending a last prayer to the beaten monster, sending it off into the Lifestream. "I think that's the last of them on this level," Aerith says. "What do you think, Desmond?"

"I think you're right," Desmond agrees, idly playing with 18's hand, rubbing the little fingers between his own. They're a little cold. "Are we heading up to level 67 next?"

"I guess so," Zack says, snapping his blade onto his back. "Whoo, it's a workout. Poor guy, though – whoever they were. Could you tell who it was, Aerith, did they, like… feel like a person?"

"No, they just felt like pain," Aerith sighs.

"The creatures on the upper levels will be in a worse state," Red warns them. "The further along the experiments, the higher the level."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that," Aerith says.

"Maybe we should take a break," Zack suggests. "Before we head up. Aerith, Cloud, what do you say?"

"I'm for it," Cloud says, sitting down beside Desmond with a sigh. "Man, I could use an ether –"

"What is going on there?!"

They all freeze up and turn to look down the corridor. The fighting must've covered the sound of footsteps, because suddenly they're not alone anymore. There, just at the bend of the corridor, stands Hojo, with blood on his coat and a displeased scowl on his face, flanked by a couple of infantrymen, gripping guns – and more behind them.

Desmond doesn't wait to see what everyone's reaction is, he doesn't even think. He just deposits 18 in Cloud's lap, who accepts it confusedly – and then Desmond launches himself into a run. The infantry troopers grip their guns, bring them to bear – too late.

Desmond jumps and lands on Hojo – hidden blade first.

"What – what is this?"

Desmond looks up from the body, from the bloody mess he's making of Hojo's neck. Hojo is standing over them, looking around in the white-green space of nothingness around them.

The laboratory is gone, the building is gone – everyone else is gone. It's just Desmond, the man he killed – and his spirit.

"Fascinating," Hojo says, stroking his chin. "A vision of the Lifestream before my energies join and intermingle with it. I always wondered if people were aware for this part. I should have made a dedicated study on the subject – inducing cardiac arrest in research subjects surely would have sufficed – but ah, there was always too much work for such frivolities. Still, this kind of connection, intimate connection, with the Lifestream…"

His spirit flickers and then appears a little further away, pacing idly. "I wonder – I have correctly theorised that children are closest to the Lifestream, the younger the better – their energies still so fresh from leaving it that there exists a certain kind of tether, binding them to the Planet, like a spiritual umbilical cord. The reverse in death is true – from the Planet we come, into the Planet we return –"

Another flicker, and he's on the other side of Desmond and the corpse.

"And yet children are also distanced – they exist as though in a protective bubble. Connected, but unable to interact – before they begin to mature, they cannot control themselves, they cannot use Materia, they can't draw from the Planet. A spiritual womb to go with spiritual umbilical. This protection is missing in the dying."

Another flicker, and Hojo is looking down at himself.

"We could have used people on the brink of death to connect to the Lifestream," he concludes. "The moment that connection opens, the spirit within the dying taps into the Lifestream – drawing power and knowledge through them. Inducing such a state shouldn't have been difficult – a suspended state just before death…"

Desmond looks up at him, while Hojo clinically examines his own body. Body or spirit, the guy is incredibly unsettling.

"Pity," Hojo says almost disinterestedly and clasps his hands behind his back. "With my death, this wisdom, as well as many others, will be lost. But then again, I suppose it hardly matters – Lifestream can and will be pumped either way – and the Planet will surely expire."

Desmond grimaces at that. "I don't suppose you know how to fix it, Professor?"

"Fix it – why would I want to fix it?" Hojo asks incredulously. "Death of the Planet is the most fascinating process I have ever even considered, and it began in my lifetime! What an opportunity to observe, in person! The Planet decays under our feet, and I had the chance to study its decomposition…"

The whole statement goes so far beyond Desmond's ability to comprehend that for a moment the man barely looks even human. The realisation that for all the years Hojo must've been aware of the Planet's decline he not only had done nothing to fix it, but he'd probably encouraged it… just so that he got the pleasure of watching…? Inhuman doesn't even cut it.

"And Sephiroth?" Desmond asks.

"Ah, Jenova," Hojo sighs and looks away. "Truly a superior being. Seeing her awakening was the highlight of my life – all these decades, and finally I succeeded in reviving her. What I wouldn't give to see her, finally fulfilling her destiny…"

Desmond frowns. He'd said Sephiroth, hadn't he…? "Which is?" he asks suspiciously.

Hojo grins. "Consuming this Planet from inside out and rising from its decaying corpse like the goddess she is."

Desmond shudders. "How do we stop it?"

Hojo looks at him like he's the insane one. "Why would you ever want to stop it?"

Fuck, but Desmond wishes he could kill this guy again.

When Desmond comes to, Cloud is standing over him and Zack, Red and Aerith are fighting – and winning – against some ShinRa infantry.

"You back with us?" Cloud asks, his sword held up in a one handed guard – 18 held in the other arm, propped up against his hip. "Snap out of it, Desmond!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," Desmond says, shaking his head and looking at Hojo – he still has a hand on the guy's neck, and a blade in it. His other hand is on Hojo's forehead. "Weird, time usually stops when that happens," he mutters confusedly. Not that it's ever happened to him, before…

There's a rattle of gunfire, which Cloud blocks with his sword before charging up some sort of skill and sending it rushing through the blade, through the air, and at the infantry. It knocks them back, one of the guys falling over with a cry.

"Stand down, guys, we're not the enemy!" Zack shouts, also blocking gunfire. 

One of the infantry troopers shakes his rifle at them. "You just killed the Head of the Science Department!"

"Yeah, and you should be thanking us, we should be celebrating – not fighting!" Zack answers. "You know the shit he did! How many infantry troopers have gone mysteriously missing or died in these levels, huh?"

"That's – that's beside the point! You are Wutai insurgents, here to undermine the company –"

Zack mutters a curse and then takes his helmet off and throws it aside. "I'm not from Wutai – see? I'm from this damn building! My name is Zack Fair, I'm a SOLDIER First Class!"

The infantry troopers hesitate, while Aerith too takes off her helmet, letting out a "phew!" of relief. Cloud follows suit, muttering curses and Desmond, not wanting to feel left out, does the same, running his hand through his hair as he does. Even with his short hair, it'd gotten sweaty.

After a moment of confused hesitation, one of the troopers rallies. "Rogue SOLDIERs have attacked this building before –!"

"... Wait, is that – Cloud?"

Cloud jerks slightly, looking at the infantryman and then away, wincing.

"It is you – I'd recognize that chocobo hair anywhere!" The infantryman says, grinning, and then hesitates. "Why are you attacking ShinRa, Cloud? And what's with the kid? You got a kid?"

Desmond stands up while Cloud grimaces, shoving 18 at him. "ShinRa burned my village down and Hojo put me in a Mako tank for four years," Cloud says as Desmond accepts the kid back. "And they were planning to drop the Sector Seven Plate on the slums."

The infantry guy who knows him shakes his head. "No way, they wouldn't –"

"How do you know about that?" the infantry trooper in front demands.

"Wait – sarge, you know about it?"

"It's top secret information, you shouldn't have access to it –!"

"I have family in Sector Seven!"

Desmond keeps a side eye on the arguing infantrymen, while checking 18 over. There are four of them, and aside from the scarves, they look identical. The sergeant has a red scarf, while the guy who knows Cloud has a blue one – the rest have pale grey ones. Maybe some sort of rank insignia?  

Shaking his head, Desmond looks at Cloud. "You okay?"

"Fuck no," Cloud answers. "Sephiroth's coming and my head is killing me. You?"

"About the same, sans the Sephiroth bit," Desmond says and looks at the others. Zack is lowering his sword, and Red's tail is flicking with irritation. Aerith, seeing him up, bounces back to them.

"What did you see?" she asks. "You had a vision, right? Was it important?"

"Lunatic ravings of a dying madman," Desmond says with a shake of his head. "Could've done without, if I'm honest. Hojo said Jenova's going to eat the Planet – and I think he was helping her along?"

"Oh, yeah, that."

Desmond gives her a look. "Well, that reaction soothes my soul, I am very comforted by the fact that you apparently knew. What the hell, Aerith?"

"I mean, she didn't succeed? First time we managed to weaken her to the point where she couldn't – the second time they killed the Planet before she could," Aerith shrugs.

Desmond eyes her uncertainly, wrapping his arms around 18. "She's pretty strong here, in this time, though?" he points out nervously.

"There is that," Aerith agrees with a hum and then shrugs  "Not to worry, I'm sure Sephiroth will throw bits and pieces of her at us eventually."

"Um, what –?"

"Speaking of Sephiroth," Cloud says tightly. "I think he just reached this level. He's coming."

They exchange looks, and Zack says to the infantry troopers, "Listen, guys, I get that this is very confusing, there's lots we got to hash out – but one of Hojo's monsters is on the way, and we really don't want to be here when it gets here, so how about we move this elsewhere, or you know, just split up and your can plausibly deny ever seeing us?"

"No, it's the duty of ShinRa Public Security –" the red-scarf begions.

"Shut up, sarge," the blue-scarf snaps back and motions them to follow. "Come on, men – to the elevators!"

So, apparently the Plate Plan had been in the works for a while now – they just needed to expedite things with the reactor bombings. It wouldn't do for Avalanche to do a better job at stalling the Planet's end than ShinRa, after all.

"We're been evacuating VIPs from the Sector all day," the infantry sergeant admits while they stand around in the elevator awkwardly, waiting as it makes its way down the building. "Getting them to other sectors, out of the harm's way –"

One of the grey-scarves lifts his head and lets out a noíse of outrage. "And what about everyone else in there, huh? Sarge, I've got a girlfriend – her whole family – Jenn's house is there, she's got a kid –"

"It was a high priority assignment, Turks called the shots," the red-scarf says, clearly uncomfortable. "It was for Midgar's greater good."

"Killing over hundred thousand people is for the city's good?!" Zack demands. "Cut the crap!"

Aerith nods. "That's just mass murder. And if you know about it and not only do nothing to stop it but actually take part in making it happen, then…" she gives the sergeant her fiercest, most disapproving look. "Then you're complicit!"

Desmond, feeling a little bit like an outsider in this argument, looks from one participant to the other. It's kind of funny, except for the way it's not, really. In the elevator there's no place for the sergeant to run, and as the only one who knew about the plan, he's become a kind of a scapegoat for it, in the place of the people actually responsible.

"What do you have to say for yourself?!" the other grey-scarf demands.

Cloud, standing beside Desmond, leaning into the elevator wall, scoffs. "If not him, then it would've been someone else," he says. "ShinRa isn't short on spineless lackeys. You wanna blame someone, blame the Directors. The ones still alive, anyway…"

"That's not an excuse for doing nothing," Aerith says. "So much of the stuff ShinRa does only works because so many people go along with it."

"Probably," Cloud shrugs. "But when it's your paycheck and the food on your family's table – and probably your life too – on the line, it's not that easy a decision to make. You can't exactly safely quit in ShinRa."

The infantrymen shuffle their feet, and Zack sighs. "Yeah, even SOLDIERs get hunted down if we try to leave," he mutters.

Thinking back to the poor scientist in the bathroom, Desmond wonders if the guy managed to entirely quit. Well, with Hojo dead… it's probably not an issue anymore. Who knows how many employees like that ShinRa has – people just stuck in their jobs, not quite able to leave. It kind of sounds like a lot.

Wonder if Abstergo had that – a lot of their employees were just normal office workers and medical researchers and whatnot, but then there were also the private military and the not so willing assistants of the likes of Vidic, and yea-ah… Who knows how many of the normal workers knew about the not so willing workers, and how many there were of one group in comparison to the other...

"Evil flourished where it is allowed," Red murmurs, bringing Desmond out of his thoughts. "It thrives on the power it has over others."

Aerith sighs. "Yeah, I guess. Still," she points at the sergeant. "You should at least feel ashamed!"

The red-scarf tries to hold his ground for a moment, but under everyone's eyes he flounders and withers, and finally his shoulders slump. "Yes, Miss."

"Right," Aerith says with satisfaction and rests her hands on her wide SOLDIER belt. "Right, so. What do we do now?"

"Well, we did Kunsel's mission, sort of" Zack comments. "Actually, we might've made things worse… we need to figure out the, uh, the aftermath there, what we're going to do about the, uh… you know."

"Sephiroth is still following us," Cloud says and shakes his head at the looks the infantrymen throw at him.

"Jenova is going to eat the world," Desmond adds with a shake of his head, because, honestly, it feels pretty important no matter what Aerith says. Though what the order of priority here is, he has no idea. What's more important, stopping Jenova from killing the Planet, stopping Sephiroth from destroying the Planet, or stopping ShinRa from draining the Planet.

"...And we most likely have more ShinRa personnel after us?" Red suggests uncertainly, flicking his tail at the infantrymen.

"That we probably do, yeah," Desmond snorts, and Cloud shakes his head, folding his arms.

Zack claps his hands together with a forced smile. "But on a, uh, brighter side, Sector Seven is still there, the President and now Hojo are dead, so…" he trails away with a wince. "Hooray?

"We really should be arresting you guys," the sergeant mutters and is immediately elbowed by his fellows.

"Hmm," Aerith says, thinking about it. "We have some problems, huh? Well, I'm sure we can figure it out – we've already made some friends here! I'm sure we can do it!" She punches air with her fist. "Right?!"

"Right," Zack grins, and infantrymen mumble incoherently. It's not the most confident show of support, Desmond muses, but it's something.

"Right," Aerith says brightly and looks at the infantry guys. "You can spread the word about what was really going on – and maybe evacuate the building, or at least tell people to run if they see Sephiroth, alright? He's dangerous, and if he runs into people – well, it won't be good."

"But isn't Sephiroth the hero –" one of the grey-scarves asks.

"Not anymore," Cloud says grimly. "You can trust me on that – whatever he was, he isn't anymore."

"Honestly, I'm not even sure that is Sephiroth," Zack mutters.

The infantry guys exchange looks and the blue-scarf nods. "We'll let people know."

Considering infantrymen, Desmond hums thoughtfully, his head feeling finally a little clearer after the miasma of the labs. With Eagle Vision more or less back to normal, he can see the… the potential in them. Like with Zack and Kunsel, there's something about these guys that feels kind of familiar.

Rubbing a hand idly up and down 18's back Desmond glances between the infantry guys and Cloud. "Maybe these guys could give us a hand," he murmurs as close to Cloud's ear as he thinks the guy can stand. "Like with the experiments upstairs?" They were with Hojo, after all… and saw the guy killed and still haven't reported it in.

Cloud makes a sort of non-move where he almost reacts before stamping it down. Shifting his footing, he looks ahead and then says, thoughtful. "Maybe. Hey, guys? What are your current standing orders concerning the specimens and the lab levels?"

It's like a door being unlocked, as the sergeant hesitates and then asks, "Why – you got something on your mind?"

Chapter Text

"The VIPs have all been evacuated," Kunsel tells them a little later, after the infantrymen had headed off on their Cloud-appointed mission, a crowd of curious SOLDIERs had been dispersed and their group managed to get into Kunsel's office, unhindered. And boy, wasn't that a surprise – not just that Kunsel has an office now, but that he's kind of the highest ranked SOLDIER in ShinRa's employ, and technically in charge of all the rest. Zack can still remember being flailing initiates together, and now… Yeah, Kunsel had not been sitting idle, last four years. Kunsel, the Director of Soldier. Damn.

But as big of a news as that is, it's not as surprising as the fact that apparently the ShinRa elite had just… well. Skedaddled, to use Desmond's terminology.

Kunsel continues. "While you were… having fun in the lab levels, the new President made the call – Scarlet, Heidegger, Palmer and himself were escorted by Turks not only from ShinRa Building but Midgar in general. They headed to Junon fifteen minutes ago," he says, and he sounds tired about it. "Director Tuesti was left in charge, technically, but…"

That's not exactly the news Zack was expecting. Honestly, he'd thought that the moment they got to SOLDIER levels, Kunsel would have to try to arrest them, not only for running around the lab levels, basically wrecking havoc, but for Hojo, too. Desmond just flat out murdered the guy. Considering how many cameras there are around ShinRa Building, someone must've seen that. Right?

Apparently they had. And their solution to the double issue of Sephiroth and the 4-5 man band of murderers running around was to… just call it quits.

"They abandoned the building," Zack says flatly, while beside him Aerith hugs herself with a frown of concentration on her face. Desmond, Cloud and Red, if they even care about how damn monumental this is, don't say anything – they're busy examining the vending machine Kunsel has in his office. "No, they abandoned Midgar."

"They abandoned Midgar," Kunsel agrees, shaking his head and sinking to sit down by the monitors with a sigh. "Honestly, in hindsight… it's been a long time coming. I looked into Plate Drop rumours, and turns out it's been planned for a while. It's a bit of an open secret among ShinRa officers that Midgar's a failed project – they haven't been funding any kind of new development, haven't done any kind of innovation, new building… all the tech is aging, and there's been no upgrades. Turns out the President has been for almost a year looking for a better alternative. Now that he's gone, and the Building's been compromised…"

Folding his arms, Zack hums. It barely even makes sense. Midgar, abandoned by ShinRa. ShinRa built Midgar, and now they were just calling quits? Well, the head honchos were, anyway – all the personnel is still there, probably, more or less attending to their duties as though nothing had changed… at least for now. How long until the military got orders to move to Junon, or to whatever place the new President decided to make his new headquarters?

And boy, did Rufus Shinra not waste any time naming himself the President, huh…

"How many people know that President Shinra is dead?" Zack asks.

"There hasn't been an announcement, but news broke out while ago," Kunsel says. "By now it's gone around the city, probably around the Planet. It's expected that the former VP, the new President, will make the announcement from Junon."

"Hmph. Tough to imagine that brat as a President of anything," Zack mutters, shaking his head. Either way, the guy left, so… not an issue. "What's the situation here?"

"It's a… it's a mess. Lab levels are off limits now, mostly thanks to you. We've started evacuating all non-essential, non-military personnel. Turks tried to contain the situation for a while, but most of them left with the President, which is how the news got out. Tuesti is conferring with the Mayor about what to do, which means he will probably not do anything anytime soon…" Kunsel trails away, turning the monitors on, checking some cameras. "And Sephiroth is on level 57 – slowly going down the stairs. He's chasing after you guys, right?"

"… ye-eah," Zack agrees, glancing at Aerith, who's rubbing at her forehead, and then looking back at Cloud. The guy's ignoring them – he's getting something from the vending machine and handing it to Desmond. A protein shake, it looks like. "We've been kind of going up and down, trying to stay ahead of him."

"Well. From what we've seen so far, he either can't or just won't use the elevators, nor is he in any hurry to go around, so I guess that situation is… contained, currently," Kunsel says wryly, running a hand over his face and momentarily knocking his helmet askew. "Any chance you could deal with him?"

"I guess we have to, eventually, but… we're still working on a plan on how to deal with him," Zack admits with a grimace. They hadn't really even talked about it yet, though, there hadn't really been time. "Might be best if you tell people to stay away and not engage."

"Way ahead of you there," Kunsel says, shaking his head and turning to face them. "Did you actually have a plan when you came here?"

"Well… we planned to save Sector Seven," Zack says slowly. "And we kinda succeeded?"

"So you planned to kill President Shinra? Great – and then what?"

"Uh… then Sector Seven… would be saved?" It sounds kind of flimsy even to his ears, and Zack winces a little at the way Kunsel's looking at him and glances at the others. "A little help here, guys?"

"With what?" Cloud asks flatly, opening a package of suspicious-looking sandwiches. "You're doing so well."

"I don't know what you need help with," Red admits, sitting on the floor, dubiously examining a water bottle Cloud had gotten for him.

"It was always a terrible plan," Desmond muses, considering 18 and the shake he's holding, clearly trying to figure out if the kid could drink it. "I honestly didn't think we'd get this far."

"Hey," Aerith complains, giving him a distracted glare. "You said walking in through the front door was the best plan."

"It's the best way to get places, sure," Desmond agrees with a grin and looks up. "So, what happens to Midgar without ShinRa?"

Zack glances at Kunsel, and Kunsel leans back in his chair. Apparently, he has no idea either. "I think that might be why Director Tuesti went to see the Mayor," Kunsel says. "Of course, if things settle down here, then the President might just as well come back and resume control, but if he doesn't… I don't know…?"

Desmond hums, propping the kid up in his lap. "What if he couldn't, though?"

"You mean, if he too died? I suppose one of the Directors would take over."

Shaking his head, Desmond glances up. "Lemme rephrase that – what if people here decided not to follow them?"

Kunsel presses his lips together, swivelling his chair slowly left and right. "ShinRa pays the salaries of a quarter of the people in Midgar," he says slowly.

"Not for long, going by the sound of things," Zack says slowly, frowning, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Once Mako runs out – and it will run out, one way or the other – ShinRa will be out of power, literally. With Mako goes all their machinery, with all their machinery goes most of their military equipment, infrastructure… They're holding onto power and authority for now, but how long will that last, once the city – and every other city – goes dark?"

Kunsel hums. "Three days," he says. "Maximum."

"Hm?"

"Three days – that's how long a human can handle being without water," Kunsel shrugs. "The moment Mako power runs out in Midgar, running water goes with it. "It probably won't take even that long, before the rioting will start."

… huh. Zack… hadn't even thought of that. "Oh," he says, frowning. "Shit."

"We have water in the slums," Aerith comments, shaking her head. "Ground water. It has to be filtered in most places, but it's drinkable – and we don't need power to get it."

"Slums have water, sure – it has to be pumped up to the top of the Plate," Kunsel says, shaking his head. "Once power runs out, trains will stop too – how will people up on the Plate get water from below? Not easily, or at all."

Scratching at the back of his neck, Zack strains to come up with a plan for it, and fails. He'd never been good at these infrastructure problems – even after he'd gotten promoted to First, he'd been happy to leave them to Sephiroth, who was the kind of weirdo who liked resource management…

Key word being was.

"I'm assuming ShinRa never planned to do anything about it," Zack mudes.

"Why would they, when it was never going to happen, not officially," Kunsel asks and glances at the monitors.

Yeah, why plan for something that wasn't ever going to be an issue for them – they were just going to abandon everything for their Promised Land and leave the people they lorded over with the leftovers of their tyranny. Shaking his head, Zack looks back at the others – Desmond is slowly feeding the kid little sips of the water and the protein shake, while Nanaki has figured out the bottle and is throwing his head back with the thing held in his mouth, draining it in one go. Cloud is eating a sandwich, peering at the corner of the room with a pinched look on his face – looking at the direction of the building's emergency stairs through all the walls and rooms in between.

Aerith is thinking so hard that Zack can almost hear her thoughts churning. "What's on your mind?" Zack asks.

"I'm forgetting something again," she sighs, shaking her head. "Which is weird, because I've never been here before…"

"Okay, uh…" Glancing at Kunsel, knowing how weird this is going to sound but knowing he has to ask, Zack takes her hand. "Aerith – what's going to happen to Midgar?"

"Well…" she says, concentrating. "First time, it was almost totally demolished by the Meteor, the Plates all fell, the reactors were destroyed, obviously, as well as the ShinRa Building. ShinRa itself collapsed. People built a city around it, sort of… extension of the slums. They called it the Edge. Cloud lived there – with Tifa and Barret. Second time…" she shrugs.

Cloud glances their way, eyes narrowed, but says nothing, just takes a sort of mutinous bite of his sandwich.

"… right," Zack says. That doesn't help us. "Here's hoping that doesn't happen this time. Is there any way…?" what, to save Midgar? Midgar lives on Mako energy, and Mako energy has to go, otherwise they're all dead. But without it…

Zack grimaces, uncertain – damn, but he misses Angeal, and Genesis too, a little bit. And Sephiroth, the way he was. This problem is more their size.

"Maybe we should concentrate on what we can do, here and now," Desmond says, not looking up from little 18. "There's still stuff in this building we can do, right now, which might go a long way later."

Zack frowns, glancing at him. "There… is?"

"We need to do something about Sephiroth, too," Cloud mutters. "Sooner the better."

"Hmm," Kunsel hums, looking at the consoles. "Well, there are some issues that need to be handled. I can put some SOLDIERs on those, but if you want to help out…"

"You might be misunderstanding the way this group helps out," Cloud snorts. "And I still don't get why we're helping ShinRa, by the way. Shouldn't we concentrate on Sephiroth?"

"Do you know what to do about him?" Zack asks.

"We could kill him?"

Aerith shakes her head. "We'd just lose track of him," she says. "Now that he's in Jenova, I don't think he can get out of her – if we kill him, hell be free to try and possess something else. Someone else."

Zack hums at that and then frowns, glancing at Desmond – and at 18. He's not the only one, either – Cloud looks at them too with a begrudgingly thoughtful expression, and Aerith stands frozen, thinking about it.

Desmond glaces at them, unamused. He doesn't say anything – the look is enough.

"Sephiroth… can possess people?" Kunsel asks slowly. "It's it just anyone or –?"

"People with his cells – or Jenova cells," Zack clarifies. "All SOLDIERs have a little bit…."

Kunsel follows his gaze to the kid and hums. "One of Hojo's experiments?"

"How'd you guess?" Desmond asks rather flatly.

"People have a tendency of coming out of his labs silver-haired – and the kid's got Mako in his hair," Kunsel points out. "It's not that big a leap in logic. It's he alright?"

Desmond just sighs and shakes his head, bringing the kid closer.

"Right. Guess that explains why you killed Hojo. You wanna leave him here, or something? It's not much, but I've got a couch, can get someone to fetch a pillow, some blankets?"

Desmond's shoulders slump at that. "That's nice of you, but I'd rather…  hold on to him."

Kunsel hums, looking at the rest of them. "I was going to ask you to deal with some of Hojo's leftovers on the basement levels while we have the chance – there's a breakout every other week, and we end up with an infantryman or two dead every time, but…"

"We'll handle it," Zack sighs. It would give them some time to think – and offer some distraction. "We're going to get keycards."

"Right," Kunsel says and stands up. "Let me sort that out real quick – I can get you something to carry the kid in. I think you can make a sling out of a bedsheet…?"

"Oh," Desmond says. "Yeah, that – that'd be nice."

"I'll be right back – don't break anything," Kunsel says, pointing at Zack.

"What, who, me?" Zack says, but it's pretty weak even to his ears. Kunsel gives him an authoritative finger waggle and then heads out – leaving them alone in the office, in a suddenly tense atmosphere.

"I… didn't mean," Aerith says awkwardly and Desmond sighs.

"Let's just – not right now, okay?" he says, looking away.

Aerith throws a helpless look at Zack, who doesn't know what to say either. Red just sighs and sits down, tail idly flicking from side to side. Cloud gets the closest to comforting by awkwardly sitting beside Desmond and throwing him sideways glances, but that's about it.

In the end, they just wait in awkward silence until Kunsel comes back with the keycards, the sheet and the details of their next side mission.

The thought, once it's come up, though… it lingers. And the chores they do for Kunsel, cleaning up some more of Hojo's work in the basement levels, putting down some more specimens, isn't distraction enough to make it go away.

"Killing Sephiroth doesn't work, right?" Zack asks Aerith under his breath. "You tried that."

"Cloud did, and no, it doesn't work," Aerith sighs. "He will just go into the Lifestream and then find another way to come back. Eventually, he didn't even need bodies – he just manifested as pure Lifestream, like an illusion, but solid."

Humming thoughtfully while Desmond and Red put down the last few experiments in the room, Zack tries his hardest to figure it out. "And he won't ever get dispersed into the Lifestream. I assume you tried that too?"

Aerith steeples her hands, considering it. "I don't – the memories are a little vague, but..  I don't think he can? There's too much Jenova in him – he's human enough that his spirit made it back, but like Jenova, he's anchored in a material world."

"Jenova can't return to the Lifestream either?"

"She's not from the Lifestream in the first place – she's from out there, from some other Planet," Aerith says, making a vague hand gesture above them before blowing out a breath. "Thousands of years, and her body hasn't even rotted. It's still alive. It's… kind of scary."

Cloud – who's holding 18 for Desmond and looking vaguely constipated – glances at them. "Wait – you said Sephiroth can return as an illusion made of Lifestream – but he can't return to it? How does that work?"

"I don't – really know," Aerith admits. "I think maybe – maybe the Lifestream in part rejects him, because there's so much Jenova in him? And the Lifestream really doesn't want to let Jenova in – if she gets in, that will be really, really bad."

" Eating the Planet bad?" Desmond asks, wiping his hidden blade clean.

"Eating the Planet bad," Aerith agrees.

Red, shaking his ruff, gives them a one-eyed look. "We should destroy as much of Jenova as we can as soon as we can."

"Yeah, but..." Aerith trails away. "We did that before, and it worked, but – it didn't stop Sephiroth. I think he threw bits and pieces of Jenova at us just to slow us down, it didn't really… make that big a difference to the end result."

Zack frowns. Sephiroth sacrificed the thing he called his mother just to slow down Aerith and the group she was with at the time? That's, there's something about that… "Kind of seems like he's trying to do that now, isn't it – he'd just following us around the building, probably trying to fight us. Right?"

The others think about it while Desmond takes 18 back from Cloud, giving the kid a troubled look before easing him back to the loose bedsheet sling hanging across his torso. Cloud looks at the guy and then away, clearing his throat. "Pretty sure Sephiroth just wants to kill us."

"He knows how strong you get – he would be trying harder if he really wanted to kill us," Aerith says, arms folded, thinking about it.

Zack thinks about the thing wearing Sephiroth's appearance like a set of clothes, the thought in his head beginning to take shape. "Aerith, you said Sephiroth wants to save the Planet," he says slowly. "Do you think he really does?"

She hesitates. "I think he thinks he does," she says carefully. "The first time, when the Planet finally died... he was the only thing left alive in the end. That's how this all started – he took what was left of the Lifestream to go back in time to change it. I – I think I got dragged along because I was the last bit of Lifestream left…"

She shakes her head at the looks they send her way, Zack trying to swallow his heart at the thought of Aerith being the only thing left in a dead by world with Sephiroth. Or a thing that once was Sephiroth, anyway.

"Anyway," Aerith says. "Last time his solution to the Planet dying was to kill everything on her surface, so… whatever he thinks he's doing, he's doing it wrong."

Zack shudders. "What's the point in saving the world if you're the only one left alive?" he asks and then shakes his head. "I would have thought, being the last one left alive, he would… be lonely."

"Oh, he was," Aerith sighs, shaking her head. "But I don't think he was in any shape to recognize it for what it was."

Well, fuck if that's not a sad thought.

"Out of morbid curiosity," Desmond says, tightening the sling and stroking his fingers through 18's hair. "Do you know what he was planning the last time, when he killed everything with the Meteor? Like, what was his plan for the aftermath, if the Planet hadn't died?"

"I don't know. To live forever?" Aerith suggests.

"Not to eat the Planet, thought?"

"Umm…" Aerith says hesitantly.

The thought in Zack's head finally clicks. "Did he throw bits of Jenova at you the last time?"

"Yeah," Aerith answers. "We fought them a lot sooner than the first time, too. First was right after the President died."

Even with Sephiroth knowing what had happened the first time, he'd still done it? And quicker. "Crazy idea, just hang with me, but… doesn't it sound a bit like Sephiroth trying to deliberately get Jenova killed?"

Aerith frowns, which is as much reaction as Zack gets – Cloud just glares vaguely to the direction of the stairs where Sephiroth is probably still following them, and Desmond doesn't even look up from the kid. Red flicks his tail and, apparently out of pity, says, "It seems plausible."

Zack sighs – maybe he didn't get through right… "Then he really is trying to save the Planet from the Planet-eating monster, right? Or am I missing something?" he asks desperately.

"He uses her, though…" Aerith says slowly, while none of them react in any noticeable way. "Or she uses him – it's hard to say, they're so wrapped up in each other."

"So – there's a chance that she could use him to get to the Lifestream? Right? Because that's what it sounds like – like he could be her way in," Zack says, really warming up to the idea now. "And she wants to eat the Planet, so, killing everything on the surface, that almost makes sense. It would probably weaken the Planet, right? Enough for her to eat it?"

"Uh…"

"So Sephiroth is trying to save the Planet – from Jenova as well as ShinRa!" Zack says. "And that's why he's so weird now – because they are so mixed up, he has to try and undermine her while she's manipulating him to do her evil bidding!"

"Zack," Aerith sighs. "Jenova is – she's alive, sort of, but she's not really around. Her mind is gone, it's just that cells that are alive – Jenova, the person, the entity, is dead. Her brain is long gone."

"... Oh," Zack mutters. Well, that puts a damper on his theory. "Shit."

Desmond, with a tight look of unhappiness on his face, rests his hand on the sling and sighs. "Does she actually need a brain, thought?" he says almost begrudgingly. "If she works like a retrovirus, she doesn't need to will anything. The virus, her cells, just invade the host and insert her instructions in them."

Red hums, tail flicking. "There is a theory of the Calamity of the Skies – of it traveling from Planet to Planet, infecting and consuming them and moving on to the next Planet," he comments. "A cosmic plague."

"Right,"  Desmond says, running his hand up and down along the sling, eyeing the kid's face like he's trying to memorize it. "So… how much of Sephiroth is Sephiroth and how much of him is Jenova? And how do we separate the two?"

Aerith wrings her hands. "I don't know if we can?"

Cloud shudders and looks away from where he's been staring. "He's getting closer again," he says. "So if you want to try to figure out, now might be a good time."

Chapter Text

Everything about Sephiroth feels wrong. He's like a stream running up a hill – or, no, something worse. Like rotting rain, rising from the ground and staining the sky. Or – or something weird and artificial, growing in a flower patch, like a flower that suddenly blooms into organs and drips blood. Something like that. He oozes energy that seems to both sap everything around him from power as well as electrify it. Like he sweats Mako.

Aerith squeezes her hands into fists, lifting her chin. Cloud is all tense and hunched up beside her, sword in hand – Zack is on her other side, just as tense, if not quite so crazy-eyed. Desmond is beside her, a steady rock in the suddenly churning stream of energies – but that too feels off right now. Like he's not so much a plinth for her to steady herself on, as much as he's a sharp array of rocks for her body to be dashed against.

"He's coming," Red says, the solitary piece of naturalness in this whirlpool of Mako and alien influences. "I hope everyone is ready."

"Nope," Zack says, shifting his grip on the Buster Sword.

"Not even a bit," Cloud agrees, staring hard at the emergency exit. "But we can do this."

"If not, we can always run for the elevator again," Desmond says, just as tense. "Stay strong, Aerith, you can do this."

She can do this. Sure. Yeah. Aerith can do this. In her dreams she can do this.

The lights overhead flicker, like Sephiroth's very presence causes fluctuations in Mako, and then they see him. Shrouded in illusion again, he – or rather, Jenova – steps down the last step and into view, sword in hand, coat impeccable. Behind Sephiroth's seemingly pristine visage, the stairs drip with steaming, unspeakable ooze, and Aerith wonders, wild and worried, if that ooze could infect people with it, if they touched it. Heavens, she hopes no one touches it.

"There you are," Sephiroth murmurs, turning his head, his eyes immediately finding Cloud. "You've led me through quite the chase, haven't you."

Cloud's swallow is audible, and immediately followed by a gag, as they smell it again. Aerith refrains from clasping her nose, and holds her ground, but it's a near thing. She'd already, happily, forgotten what Jenova smelled like. Like Mako, and ozone – and the cloying smell of rotting blood.

Sephiroth smiles, turning his head – his eyes don't move, though, staying perfectly stationary in their sockets. Hysterically Aerith wonders if he can actually see anything through them – probably not, they're just illusions, just like the rest of his face. That's why they don't turn – it's all an illusion. And underneath there's a thing with no eyes, a thing that shouldn't by any rights even be moving. Thing made of a virus. A disease given physical form.

Aerith could've done without that particular insight, really. Jenova has always made her sick, but to understand how she works to some extent, that somehow makes it so much worse.

Sephiroth takes a slow, menacing step forward. Beside Aerith, Zack puts his sword on guard – Cloud wavers, his face pinched in discomfort again, his eyes straying.

"Cloud," Desmond says quickly but quietly, leaning towards him a little. "Concentrate onto your hands, the weight of the sword – and stick to the plan."

"Right," Cloud breathes out, the leather of his gloves creaking as he shifts his grip. "Sephiroth," he says, not quite looking at him "Do you remember Nibelheim?"

"Of course," Sephiroth says, purrs, lifting his sword slightly. "The best days, the last days, of our lives. I remember it well."

Cloud winces, closing one eye. "Do you remember who we were with? There were – others. Do you remember?"

"I was right there with you," Zack agrees firmly. "Do you remember, buddy?"

Sephiroth's smile widens, but he stops moving. "What do others matter?" he asks Cloud. "At the end of the world, there is only you and I."

It's eerie how eloquent he is, how lucid he sounds. Trying to concentrate, Aerith can sort of… see into the swelling madness behind him – it's there, in the nauseating whirl of power around him. Whatever's behind him, it doesn't feel lucid, it barely feels intelligent. It feels like pure, mindless madness.

"B-but I wasn't, was I? I died before the end –" Cloud stops, grunting, as something lashes out from Sephiroth, something invisible, intangible, reaching for him. With a shudder, Cloud almost drops his sword, his shoulders coming up defensibly. "I died –" Cloud gasps. "D-do you remember – when –"

"They are lashing out, reaching for your mind," Red murmurs, stepping beside Cloud, while Zack shifts slightly in front of them, sword at the ready, just in case. The firecat continues, nudging at Cloud's thigh. "Concentrate on your body and resist it."

"There was a whole village there, you forgetful sad bastard," Zack snaps. "I was there – fucking Genesis made an appearance! Can you remember that – can you remember Genesis? Do you remember anything?!"

It's not that Sephiroth hesitates – his face doesn't change. But he stands there, sort of… transfixed, eyes on Cloud but not really seeing anything. He's listening – something in there is actually listening.

"Aerith," Desmond says under his breath. "It's now, if ever."

"Right," she answers, clasping her hands together and trusting Zack and the others to defend her, defend them all. Then she closes her eyes.

There are prayers she's been able to do since she was a child – prayers her birth mother had taught her in secret, hidden from ShinRa's cameras, whispered to her in bedtime stories. The prayer of healing is the one she knows the best, it's the most useful in the slums. Prayer of cleansing, that's how she purified the grounds around Elmyra's house from contaminants. Prayer of peace. Prayer of strength…

There is no prayer for figuring out what to fuck is going on with this guy, but damn if she doesn't try, calling on the Planet, reaching for the wisdom of the Ancients, for anything and everything that might be listening.

Please, Mother, my ancestors, the Ancients of past, please, Aerith thinks, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, as a shiver runs through her and all her hair stands up on end. Give me the clarity and vision to see and the wisdom to understand…

Physical reality fades away, and she goes deaf, numb, blind. The enormous well of the Planet's power seems to open up under her, and for a moment it's like she's floating in the ethereal abyss upon the Lifestream, as it flows, sluggish, under her feet.

And there, in front of her, like some sort of spider with a hundred tentacles, is the… thing. It's not Jenova – it's not Sephiroth. A black pit of oozing hunger, multi-limbed, attached to distant points of life by thousands strands of pitch black web.

The Calamity that Fell from the Skies – connected to every single life form that carried its essence. All the people, the specimens, thousands of lab animals… it's even connected, in some ways, to the dead. It's connected to Cloud, who is almost visible even here, so strong is the tether. It's connected to little 18 with almost as thick a tie. It's connected to Zack by a feebler thread. Kunsel, and all the SOLDIERs…

It's… terrifying.

But Aerith feels braver with the Planet's strength at her back, and she can see – most of the threads of web are like gossamer, feeble at best. There are a few thicker, pulsing connections, like the one to Cloud – that's why it calls to it, that's why Cloud is being targeted, because of that connection. The Calamity is drawing on it, drawing toward Cloud – craving his strength.

But where in this mass of festering infection, where… where is Sephiroth?

Aerith looks and looks – she finds a distant body encased in Mako, dead and inert and abandoned. Sephiroth that fell in the Mako Reactor in Nibelheim. The Planet had grown crystals around him, solid Materia – like a cyst around an infection. Sephiroth isn't there, though. It's just a dead body, one among many.

There are clones, scattered across the Planet like sickly breadcrumbs. Hojo hadn't been sparing with the samples for Sephiroth's cells he had – he'd found as many people from as varied backgrounds as possible and left them with a ticking time bomb in their veins, all without their knowledge.

She can even find stored samples in some fridge in the ShinRa Building, which Hojo had cultivated and prepared for further experiments.

But where is Sephiroth – where is the Sephiroth that came from the future. Where –?

The Calamity pulses like it has a heartbeat in front of her. Aerith looks up at it, nervous – looks into the whirling, writhing void, and there, there – is it …?

There are hands on her shoulders, pulling her back. They feel like stone, like metal, like marble. "Desmond," she breathes.

"Time to go," he says as he pulls her back into reality – just as the corridor in front of them is showered in sparks from where Sephiroth's sword is swinging powerfully through the ceiling and all the wires therein. Zack is facing him, fighting him, with Cloud and Red at his sides.

"There wasn't enough time," Aerith says, looking back at Desmond. "I didn't have enough time – all I saw was the Calamity, I didn't have the time to look properly."

"We'll figure it out later – come on, back up a bit. Let's give the guys some room," Desmond says, one hand on her arm, other on 18. "Get ready to run."

"Right," Aerith says shakily, trying to sort out her senses. Everything feels really heavy, all of a sudden, and her body feels too hot and too cold, all at once. "I thought I saw something, in it, I thought I – I need to have a another look –"

"Later, Aerith – come on –"

Zack is charging up some attack, Cloud doing the same on the other side – Sephiroth is pinned in between for a moment, somehow catching both attacks with his sword, and he's still smiling, a vacant, empty smile. His eyes look somehow worse. Not like a person's eyes at all.

"I think Calamity has consumed him," Aerith murmurs, frowning, shaking her head. "Or – or –"

There's a flash, Red roaring magic at Sephiroth. "Run!" he barks, and Aerith almost stumbles as Desmond urges her away, hand on her back, pushing her into motion. Zack and Cloud disengage, and with Red turning around to follow them – together, they head, once more, to the elevators.

"So, he's… he's what, been eaten?" Zack asks, as they sit on President Shinra's fancy desk in the very top level of the tower – with more than seventy levels between them and Sephiroth. "There's nothing left?"

Aerith shakes her head, rubbing her hands together. "It's not that – it's… I don't know what it is. I'm not sure – I thought I saw something, maybe if I had more time, I could…"

"Let's just go over what you got this time around, alright?" Desmond says, gripping her hand gently. "You saw the thing – Jenova?"

"The Calamity. It was this black, oozing… mess of connections," Aerith says, shuddering slightly at the memory. "All the SOLDIERs, the experiments – you," she glances at Zack and at very uncomfortable looking Cloud. "Little 18… it was like they were sort of… the same thing. Cloud has the closest connection to it – that's why it fixated on you. It's pulling itself towards you."

Cloud grimaces, folding his arms. "Great. But we knew that."

"Sephiroth wasn't one of the connections?" Desmond asks. "He wasn't there at all?"

Aerith shakes her head. "Not like that, no. I found his old body, it's – it's encased in Mako crystal, but – not him, not his will."

Zack's shoulders slump at that and he sighs. "Bummer," he mutters. "It sounded so much like him, though? Like, you heard him talk. He remembers Cloud, at least – that's… that's something… right? Jenova wouldn't remember Cloud. Jenova doesn't even have a head. Why would she know Cloud, or… or anything?"

Aerith bites her lip. He has a point, and then there's… "I'm not… entirely sure, but…" she hesitates, not sure if it's a good idea to give Zack hope if it turns out false, but… keeping it from him would be worse. "I thought I saw a hand. Within the Calamity – I thought I saw a hand in there."

Zack perks up. "Sephiroth's hand? He'd inside the thing?"

Yeah, like a morsel the Calamity is digesting, Aerith thinks. "I don't know for sure – I didn't have the time to look properly. But… maybe?"

"Then we can save him!" Zack says, jumping to his feet. "We'll just have to beat Jenova, and –"

"Let's not jump into conclusions just yet," Desmond says warningly, rubbing a hand along 18's back. "We've just started figuring this out. What else did you see, Aerith? Did you… feel anything else?""

"I felt uncomfortable?" she offers, wincing. "The whole thing just felt awful. Like a festering wound. I don't know how else to put it. I saw the Calamity, I saw the people, the creatures it's connected to… the person inside it… and that's about it."

"Okay – and did it see you?" Desmond asks. "Did it know you were looking?"

"I… I don't think so?" Aerith offers and then frowns. She hadn't even considered it. "I don't know for sure."

It's not much to go on, really – but it's enough to make Zack rally. "Come on, guys – it makes sense. Sephiroth is in there, and he's trying his damnedest to get Jenova killed so that he can be freed! We should go back down there and finish the job!"

"And then what? Cloud asks, uncomfortable. "Apparently the last time we did that, he ended up destroying all life on the Planet with a fucking Meteor. We have no idea what he will do once freed. Aside from probably possessing people."

Zack hesitates, ducking his head and scratching the back of it. "Y-yeah, right, um…" he says and then visibly gets an idea. "But! Without Jenova holding him back, maybe he will be more sensible – maybe then we can talk to him, talk some sense into him!"

Aerith gives him a fond look, wishing she had his optimism about this. 

Red looks between them from the floor, the end of his flaming tail idly swaying from right to left. "Perhaps we should fight the Calamity," he offers. "Not kill it, but weaken it. With it weakened, we might be able to reach Sephiroth, without risking the release of either."

Zack snaps his fingers pointing at him. "That," he says and looks at the rest of them. "Best idea so far."

"The only idea so far," Cloud says and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can we, maybe, take a break before that? My head is killing me, and I need a fucking nap. What time is it, anyway?"

Aerith blinks and then looks out the windows. "Uh… it's… pretty late, huh," she says, wincing. Closer to pretty early actually. "Does anyone have a PHS to check?"

They exchange looks, Zack digging through his pockets. "Oh, right," he mutters, taking out an old PHS. "This damn thing broke – I wonder if Kunsel could get us your stuff, the stuff the Turks took…"

"I wouldn't mind getting my sword back, and the armour," Desmond says, leaning back and considering 18. "But I'm with Cloud – getting a bit wiped here. We didn't all get a nice prolonged nap, like Zack did.

"Heh," Zack says, guiltily. "To my defence, I was up for weeks before that and I really needed it?"

"Not criticizing here," Desmond says with a grin. "Just a bit jealous. It's been a hectic couple of days."

Aerith winces – she's pretty sure Desmond hasn't had any rest since coming to this world, and she isn't sure how long ago that move was. It's been at least a couple of days. "I guess we could all use a break. How long do you think it will take for Sephiroth to get up here?" she asks, looking at the others

"From the basement, at the rate he's going… several hours," Red says, flicking an ear. "I wonder what the rest of the building thinks of him going up and down the stairs…"

Aerith lets out a hysterical giggle, imagining Sephiroth slowly going up the stairs, grinning maniacally the whole way. Just several hours of climbing the stairs, menacingly.

"Why is he using stairs anyway," Desmond wonders, standing up with a stretch. "Does he even realise how long it's taking him? Does the Calamity of the Skies have a concept of time?"

"Don't know, don't care," Cloud says, taking off his sword and then sitting down on the floor before stretching himself out on the President's pristine red carpet with a heavy sigh. Desmond, following his example, sits down nearby, leaning his back against the enormous desk and settling little 18 in his lap more comfortably.

"You know," Zack muses, watching them. "I don't think Sephiroth has a keycard?"

Stifling a snort, Aerith hops down. "Come on, Zack, let's see if we can get in touch with Kunsel. Maybe he can get us some blankets up here. There should be a PHS terminal here somewhere. Red, you coming?"

"I can stay here and keep an eye out," the firecat says, laying his head on his folded paws.

Well. It's not what Aerith intended, getting some alone time with her boyfriend, but she's not complaining. They make the call from the side office, Kunsel promising to send someone over with their stuff if he could find it and some refreshments, telling them he'd blocked all the emergency exits and no one should be able to get into the stairwell aside from them.

"Things are still a mess here, so, just keep Sephiroth busy, it'll give us time to handle things here," Kunsel says. "Also, if you missed it, the new President made an announcement from Junon, if you want to check it out – it's still playing on the news."

"Well check it out," Zack answers. "Thanks, Kunsel."

Aerith leans against him as he ends the call, sighing. "What are the odds that he'll blame it on Avalanche?" she mutters.

"No idea," Zack mutters, wrapping one arm securely around her waist. "Let's have a look?"

It's much like any other ShinRa speech made by Rufus. Arrogant, anything but concise and all kinds of overconfident. The most surprising thing about it is that he doesn't blame Avalanche for the President's death. He straight up blames Wutai.

"As you can see from these images, a Wutaian sword was used," Rufus says, actually showing the President's dead body on air, with Sephiroth's Masamune run through it. "This can only be taken as an act of war…"

"Shit," Zack mutters. "They really want to go back to war, after all the time we spent making peace with Wutai?"

"It's a distraction," Aerith says. "To keep people from noticing what's really going on. To keep their eyes diverted from the real risk – and to place blame for their own failings elsewhere."

"Yeah," Zack mutters and flips the screen off, turning to embrace her. "The ShinRa I joined, it wasn't like this, I swear it wasn't."

Aerith sighs and hugs him back, leaning her cheek against his chest. It was the same, really – they just used to hide it better. They used to have a reason to hide it. Zack joined a company of heroes only to find out full of villains. Her poor, poor love.

"It's all going to come crumbling down," she says, apologetically. "Sooner or later. It has to."

"... Yeah," Zack agrees heavily, leaving against the PHS console. "Yeah, I guess it has to. But… what will come after? What do people do, after ShinRa?"

"They rebuild. They start small businesses, to cover up the vacuum ShinRa leaves behind. They band together into communities, and leaders rise to the top," Aerith says, leaving out the obvious, granted that they survive the collapse, of course… instead she smiles. "Tifa opened another bar. Cloud started a delivery business. Maybe they'll do something like that again."

"And you? You'll open a flower shop, right?" Zack asks, grinning.

Aerith smiles sadly. "That's be nice, wouldn't it? You wanna run it with me?"

"I dunno. I think I'd rather be the mercenary next door," Zack says, thinking about it. "Dating the cute flower shop owner. Maybe Desmond will join you instead, and Cloud will get in business with me, and we'll be the talk of the town with our cute romance."

Aerith giggles. It's a nice image. "I think Desmond will be happier running a shady guild, but I guess a flower shop could work as a front for his shady guild," she muses.

Zack hums. "You'd think he'd be busy with his kid," he says, and the cheerful time of his voice sours a little. "Do you think it would work? If we can free Sephiroth from Jenova…"

Aerith listens to his steady, strong heartbeat for a moment, trying to match hers with his. "I don't know," she murmurs, thinking about the glimpse of a person inside the Calamity, and wondering. There was a time when she'd been sure Sephiroth was the one in charge, that Sephiroth was in control, using Jenova to his advantage. Maybe he had been, in the beginning…

Maybe, like her, he'd grown tired of fighting, too.

Closing her eyes, Aerith nuzzles closer to her boyfriend, miraculously back from the dead. If that's possible, then… anything is. "We're definitely going to try."

"Yeah," Zack says quietly, rubbing her back. "I'm really not looking forward to Desmond's reaction, though."

Aerith sighs. "Me neither."

Chapter Text

Though Cloud tries his best to actually fall asleep, the feeling of Sephiroth – Jenova, Calamity, whichever – slowly approaching somewhere below keeps him awake. There's no shutting it out, no ignoring it – it digs under his skin and lingers. But for a while, he dozes, half awake, half daydreaming of mostly nothing. It helps with the headache a little – but in the end only leaves him restless and vaguely irritated.

Slowly, step by step, floor by floor, Sephiroth gets closer again, and it makes his skin crawl, even with all the distance.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" Desmond asks, and Cloud tilts his head back to see him, sitting cross-legged against the President's desk with a blanket wrapped around him, the kid leaning back against his chest, Desmond's arms loose around him. Even with his gear returned and sword at his side, the guy looks about as good as Cloud feels, with shadows under his eyes, an unhappy frown on his face.

Humming in agreement, Cloud turns his eyes to the ceiling – black with golden accents, really rich looking, of course – before glancing around for the others. Aerith and Zack are sitting together a little further away, also wrapped in a blanket, leaning onto each other, dozing off, and Red's lying with his head down, asleep by the looks of it, flaming tail just a few centimetres off from setting the carpet on fire. It's still dark outside – there are clouds over Midgar, it looks like, which means it would be dark until the sun climbed over the mountains.

With a smothered groan, Cloud sits up, rubbing at his neck and giving his makeshift pillow a look – much good it did, in the end. "Hell of a day," he mutters, pulling his knees up and resting his elbows on them.

Desmond makes a noise of agreement, heavy. Cloud eyes Aerith and Zack for a moment, at the way they're leaning into each other, Aerith's head on Zack's shoulder, his cheek against her hair. They look cosy – and like they will both end up with a crick in their necks. Red is breathing steadily, and if he's awake, he's not so much as twitching an ear their way. Everything is quiet – which is… weirdly contrasted against the chaos that seems to be swirling just beneath the surface.

Behind Cloud, Desmond sits up with a quiet noise, the blanket slipping from his shoulders and 18 secure in his arms as he turns away, leaving the desk and moving instead to the furthest end of the room, where a set of glass doors lead to the balcony outside. Cloud glances after him, letting himself teeter in indecision for a moment – then he gets up and follows.

Outside, Midgar is lit in green, coming from houses, from street lights – from the Mako Reactors, still churning away. All but reactors 1 and 5, which are apparently still shut down. The rest, their presence standing over the city, these great wells of that signature green light… 

Even with all the speeches and sermons Barret had made, Cloud had never really given much of a thought to the cost of Mako – not before Aerith and Desmond. Now the reactors seem more imposing than ever. Testament to ShinRa's power – and the Planet's doom. Cloud hadn't cared much about that either, the Planet's fate – to him it was one and the same if the Planet would be destroyed tomorrow, thousand generations from now, or never. Life was life, you went on living it until you couldn't, same as anyone else – and in the end, everyone dies…

Cloud wonders morbidly how he died in the end. Aerith said he wasn't around eventually, he didn't make it to the end, so he had to die somehow. Just… not of old age, apparently. Maybe he killed himself out of sheer boredom. Or madness. Or… whatever.

Fuck, but that's still such a weird thought. Unnatural from start to end.

Rubbing a hand over his neck, Cloud glances at Desmond, who's looking over the city, past it, into the sky. Noticing Cloud staring, Desmond glances back and then nods up. "Can you usually see stars in Midgar – or is the light pollution too high for that?"

"Huh? Um…" Cloud hesitates, looking up as well. The sky is covered in clouds. "I don't know. I think you can see some, but not all. Why?"

"I just realised that I haven't seen any of this Planet's stars yet," Desmond admits, shrugging and adjusting his hold on 18. "Wonder if you can see the galaxy from here."

Cloud hums. "I don't think so," he says. You could see it from Nibelheim, he remembers that clear as day – he and Tifa used to go stargazing as kids, staying up past their bedtimes. But he can't recall ever seeing anything like it in Midgar.

"Hm," Desmond answers. "Pity. I wanna see it – I wanna see how different it is from my world. If this place is closer, or further, from the galactic core. If we're even in the same galaxy…"

Cloud shifts his footing. "You're really from another world, then?"

"Yeah. Very different from this place – no magic, for one thing," Desmond says, smiling a little.

"How'd you end up here, then?"

"Aerith."

"Ah," Cloud answers, glancing back at her. "So, not a cousin, then."

"Not really, no. I'm kind of like her, though – what might amount to sort of Ancient in my world," Desmond says, looking down to little 18 and sighing. "Not much of one. Can't tap into the Planet's energies the way she does, can't heal…"

Cloud looks at him, and then down at 18. The kid is not looking too hot – paler, somehow thinner. Desmond had fed the kid water and shakes and stuff like that, but… it was kind of obvious he was wasting away. There's no kind way to put it, really, but… "Why'd you take it so personal? The kid, I mean. He hasn't woken up once, and he never will, so…"

Desmond smiles faintly, and his eyes get a distant look in them. "Hell if I know," he mutters. "Birds of a feather, I guess."

"Um…"

"Saying from my world. Birds of a feather flock together," Desmond says, shifting his hold on the kid. "Ancients in my world are extinct – I was eugenically engineered from bits and pieces of their leftover DNA in people. Bloodline here, bloodline there, brought together to form me, as close to an Ancient as they could manage with no living Ancients left." At Cloud's confused look, he clarifies. "Like – when you breed an animal for specific traits, you know. Picking and choosing parents for desired offspring. That, but over dozens of generations."

"Oh," Cloud mutters. "I'm… sorry to hear that?"

"Happened before my time – didn't really hurt anybody. Just made some really convoluted family trees. And weirder global conflicts," Desmond says with a snort and nods to 18. "It was a lot less painful for me personally than what this kid went through, really."

"He's never been awake, though," Cloud says, uncertain. "If he's not aware, at all, then…" then did he really feel any of it?

Desmond says nothing, and Cloud looks away, awkwardly guilty. Midgar keeps on glowing, lights flickering in the darkness, and he wonders… about a lot of things, and about nothing. About experiences and memories, and how much of a person can one be, without them. Like Sephiroth, who doesn't seem to be remembering much of anything, how much of him was… Sephiroth. Like Zack, who remembers a lot and keeps looking back to the past for answers. Like Cloud himself, who still can't remember a damned thing, it feels like.

If he can't remember the horrors he'd gone through in Hojo's hands, did he really go through them?

Desmond sighs, resting his cheek on 18's hair. "Stay your blade from the blood of the innocent," he says quietly. "It's a tenet I should be following. It covers – or at least it damn well should cover – the protection of children. Even ones that don't come out the way you hope and wish they would."

Cloud hums, noncommittal, not sure what to say, if Desmond even expects him to say anything. They both know what they're hoping will happen – or what Aerith and Zack are placing their bets on. Zack especially – he wants his friend back, in whatever form he can have him. Aerith wants to save the world. Red is just along for the ride. Cloud… fuck knows what Cloud wants, but he's here, and he doesn't have a better solution.

He doesn't think Desmond does either.

"Your tenet – how does it resolve the conflict of mercy killing?" Cloud asks after a while. A lot of the specimens Red and Desmond put down couldn't have been guilty of more than mistaken assumptions and rotten luck – most of them were flat out victims of kidnapping or worse. Desmond didn't shy away from killing them, when he had to.

Desmond snorts weakly. "With difficulty, or not at all," he says. "But I get your point."

Folding his arms, Cloud considers the kid, eyeing the silvery grey hair, the closed eyes, no doubt green behind their lids. "If it works, I assume whatever Lifestream is inside this kid – it goes back to the Planet, right?" he says. "That's… that's what happens to everyone."

Desmond closes his eyes and shakes his head, but not in disagreement.

Cloud shifts his footing and then looks away. "It seems… peaceful, the way Aerith puts it," he mutters, uncertainly. Not that he gets it, but she makes it seem like a natural, easy part of the process. Die, return to the Planet, forget everything, disperse, reincarnate as something else. He's never thought of what happens after death – nothing, probably, was his idea, just black nothingness – but that, returning to the Planet… that seems nice.

"Yeah. I guess I'm being selfish," Desmond mutters. "I knew this kid was important – I can see it. But… not like that."

"… yeah," Cloud says. Who would assume something like this, really? All the talk of possession and manipulation aside, it hadn't seemed real. Now it seems almost like a done deal. Except that it isn't. "It might not even work. I figure we're going to need Sephiroth's agreement, and somehow I doubt that will be easy to get."

Desmond chuckles. "I think he'd go for it if you asked. Seems very keen on you."

"Ugh," Cloud answers, looking away.

"Not a fan, huh?"

Shaking his head with disgust, Cloud glares at the city. "I was, as a kid. It's why I wanted to join the SOLDIER program. To be a hero, like Sephiroth. I was an idiot," he mutters. "I don't know why he's so – so keen on me now. I don't think he even knew my name… back in…" and there it is again, the fucking headache.

"Don't push it," Desmond says quietly. "Look at the city – can you see that truck?"

Cloud looks down and squints. "… yeah. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Desmond hums, shaking his head. "Apparently you killed him a bunch," he says then. "Guess that leaves an impression."

Cloud scoffs. "Wasn't me, though."

"I don't think Sephiroth can tell the difference."

"Tch."

Desmond smiles at that, casting him a glance. "How are you hanging in there? How's the old noggin?"

Cloud's first instinct is to clam up, turn away, ignore him – he hates when people pry. But Desmond isn't like Tifa or Jessie – he gets it, at least to some level. He isn't, doesn't… With him, it doesn't feel like a waste of time.

So, Cloud gives serious consideration to how to answer.

"How much do you think it's my head – and how much is it Jenova's and Sephiroth's cells?" he asks finally and looks over to the elevators. "I keep thinking, if we defeat her, maybe…?"

Desmond hums, thoughtful. "I don't know – but for your sake, you probably shouldn't put your bets on an easy fix."

"No, I know – but it's the cells that give them an in," Cloud says. "That's how he keeps getting into my head – without them…" there'd be just him to fix.

"... Okay, yeah, I get what you mean. Maybe," Desmond says slowly, rocking idly back and forth. "Who knows what that will do to your cells, though, the mutated ones. Hojo definitely didn't seem to have a clue."

"You do, though – you said it's a virus," Cloud says, just on the edge of desperation. "If it's a virus, maybe there's a cure?"

Desmond looks at him and then looks away, thinking about it. "I don't know, I'm sorry. Like I said, I'm not a healer," he says. "But I'll talk about it with Aerith when this is all over, alright? Maybe between us we can figure something out."

Cloud hesitates. He didn't mean that Desmond had to go out his way to figure out a solution.

"It's not just you. Zack has bits of her too. Lots of people do," Desmond reminds him. "They'll all need a cure of some kind before this is through."

"Right," Cloud says, looking away – his eyes finding distant Sephiroth again, ever closer.

"How close is he getting?" Desmond asks quietly

"Not much longer now. Fifteen minutes, maybe," Cloud admits, shaking his head. "Why is he so slow?"

"It's Jenova, underneath it all. I don't think she has legs," Desmond says and looks down at 18. "Guess we should wake up the others and start getting ready."

Cloud hums in agreement and looks at him. "Are you?" he asks quietly. "Are you ready – can you do this?"

Desmond's shoulders slump. "I keep telling myself there's no one inside the kid. No one's home. Just an empty shell," he says and sighs. "That it will be easier for him to slip away to the Lifestream never having woken up rather than..."

Cloud hesitates, not sure what to say. In the end he settles on resting a hand on the guy's back, awkward, but there, as much as he knows how to be.

After a quiet, fragile moment, they head back to wake up the others.

Jenova wearing the guise of Sephiroth is bad enough – Jenova with that guise discarded is so much worse. It's a disorganised mass of flesh, of misshapen organs and what might've been limbs, might've been ribs, of tentacles and jutting edges, sitting on top of a lumpy mound that pulses with a heartbeat and still takes a moment for Cloud to recognize as a heart. 

Jenova has been going up and down the stairs, standing on top of a heart the size of a grown ass human being. No fucking wonder it was so slow. Now it oozes and squirts viscous fluids from raggedly severed veins that are in part blood and in part mako, and the stench is incredible.

"So, the plan," Zack says. "We cut it up as much as we can without killing it, and Aerith and Desmond hang back and do some Ancient magic stuff?"

"It will be difficult to estimate the level of damage," Red warns them, his teeth barred. "By all accounts, she shouldn't even be alive right now."

"I've got a Materia that can assess things," Cloud says, gripping the handle of his sword. "Might be better if someone else uses it though, I don't know if I can concentrate on it."

"Give it to me, then – my collar works like a bangle," Red says and Cloud nods, quickly unequipping the Materia.

"You two ready?" Zack asks, while Aerith clutches her staff and Desmond shifts the sling around so that 18 is on his back instead, piggyback style.

"Nope," Aerith says cheerfully, shakily, while checking her stuff. Since she didn't come with much, Kunsel has provided her with a new bangle and staff, and it's clear neither of them is exactly her size. "But let's do it anyway."

"Desmond?" Zack asks. "You ready?"

Desmond tightens the sling, grabs his sword and nods. "I don't like this – but it is the best idea we have," he says. "I can set my grievances aside, as much as I hate it."

"Good enough for me," Zack says and looks at the rest of them. "Kunsel has isolated these levels, no one is allowed in but us. We have all the time in the world to do this. Let's not rush it."

Then they turn to Jenova, weapons drawn – and then they fight.

Cloud – losses track of things pretty much immediately. Everything becomes a mess of mindless, shapeless fury, of blood and torn flesh and pain. He tries to concentrate onto his sword, the weight of it, the feel of its momentum as he swings it – but again and again his eyes are drawn to Jenova and he finds himself stalled in breathless emotion, something between wonder and horror.

Cloud keeps imagining his hand, sinking into that wet, glistening mass, sinking in, becoming part of it. 

Zack severs one of the tentacles in a hard, magic-infused attack, while Red leaves gouges in the pulsing heart, trying to tear it open. Everything feels wet and nasty, and there's a moment Cloud thinks he's already inside Jenova, walking on a floor that squelches under his feet, floor made of flesh – there are organs hanging from the ceiling, the pillars are made of entrails –

The sword in Cloud's hands sinks, impossibly heavy all of a sudden, his head like a broken beehive, buzzing, thoughts leaking slowly, thickly –

"It's an illusion!" Red snarls at him. "Snap out of it!"

Cloud blinks, it feels like something tugs at him, pulling him by his eyes – it's Jenova, she's calling him, she's – 

Cloud takes a stumbling step backwards, the sword slipping from his fingers as he clutches his head – and then he's gone.

"There you are," Aerith's voice says. "There, there, Cloud."

Everything is blindingly bright for a moment. The President's throne room is gone, as is the meat that covered it – Zack and Red are nowhere to be seen. Aerith is standing in front of him, hands on his shoulder, and behind her –

Cloud takes an alarmed step back from the writhing mass of bleeding horror and collides with Desmond.

"Yeah," the guy agrees with his unvoiced terror. "That's Jenova."

"The Calamity," Aerith says.

"What –" Cloud looks around, confused. Aerith and Desmond both look different. Aerith is dressed in a pink dress and red jacket, not in SOLDIER uniform, like she should be – Desmond is wearing the white hoodie again, hood pulled up. Around them everything is white and endless – except for what's underneath. There's a brilliant, vast stream of green light there, slowly flowing from one end of everything to the other.

"This is the space between the Planet and the Lifestream," Aerith explains, turning to face Jenova. "The heart of this infection. It's weakening – but not enough."

Cloud looks at the mass of darkness and then winces.

Sephiroth sticks out from the writhing form, just his chest, shoulders and head visible, the rest of him sunken in it. Is it him trying to escape, it is Jenova trying to eat him, Cloud can't tell – it looks horrifying either way. 

"You need me to reach him," Cloud guesses.

"It's working, fighting her," Desmond says quietly and turns, pulling something from his back – a small figure of 18, slumbering even here. "But you're right – we need Sephiroth to agree to this, we need him to fight for it, or it won't work."

Cloud looks at him – Desmond's eyes glimmer gold in the shadows of his hood, and he doesn't look happy, but he looks determined. Aerith looks just flat out ethereal, like she's floating in an ocean of power even while standing still. And Sephiroth…

There's no other way to put it. He looks tragic.

"What do I do?" Cloud asks.

Aerith takes his hand. "Try and call for him. Just say his name."

Swallowing, Cloud nods and lifts his chin. "Sephiroth."

It works immediately – vividly green eyes slide open, glowing against the shadows cast on him by the mass of the Calamity. "Cloud," Sephiroth murmurs, blindly searching mid-distance before finding him. Even as his vision sharpens, pupils contracting, his eyes remain low-lidded, like he lacks the energy to open them fully. "Are you here to kill me, again?"

… Would that work, killing Sephiroth here – would that kill him permanently? Or would it just send him into the Lifestream again, to reform again, to try again?

There's a hand on Cloud's hand, squeezing. Aerith. A presence stepping up on his other side. Desmond.

"No," Cloud says. "I'm here to save you. Jenova is using you – it's eating you up. We're here to help you."

Sephiroth blinks slowly. "You can't," he says. "You haven't the capacity to help anyone, let alone me."

"I –" Cloud hesitates and then looks at Aerith and Desmond for guidance.

"Oh, don't be such a downer," Aerith says, her eyes simmering with the Lifestream. "We're here, aren't we? And we haven't even tried yet. It won't hurt to try – it could work."

"You never know," Desmond agrees, eyeing the child in his arms. "You might be surprised by what we can do."

Sephiroth blinks sluggishly and looks at Cloud.

"Do your worst."

Chapter Text

There had been many times when Reeve had wished less than charitable things to various colleagues. There had been moments when he's even wished them upon his boss. In silence, with a glass of something hard as his company – along with a table full of files of yet another piece of nonsensical expenditure, property destruction or, far more likely, yet another denial for yet another proposal for this or that developmental project that would've benefited everyone if only he got the go ahead to proceed…

Yes, there'd been times he had wished ill upon his fellow ShinRa Executives. Nothing too severe, nothing too cruel. A small accident, perhaps. Illness, if he was feeling particularly vicious. Outright murder at the hands of various malcontents…? Maybe, sometimes. Rarely.

He hadn't expected to ever see any of his ill wishes come to pass. Or if they did happen, then it would be somewhere distant, due to some lapse of security or vigilance – not in ShinRa Building itself. It was supposed to be the most secure structure on the Planet, nothing was ever supposed to go wrong there…

…disregarding, of course, all the cases of various  failed experiments escaping containment, incidents of the SOLDIERs generally breaking things, occasional insurgents breaking in, the general inter-departmental espionage and sabotage, the Materia experiments that could go so badly that they endangered the structural stability of the building, and of course there were the various robots running rampant just about every week, but… 

No, nothing was ever going to happen in ShinRa Building. The Executives were safe, the President was at the height of his power, surrounded by people loyal to him, and absolutely nothing was going to go wrong, ever.

It seems like a joke, now. A great cosmic joke by the Planet herself. Whether it was at his expense or someone else's, Reeve isn't sure, but he would've greatly preferred not to be a part of it. Before, sure, when he had no idea what it would actually mean for the President to pass away suddenly and violently and without warning, before that he would've loved to see it happen. Now…

"Yes, I'm sure no one is better suited to handle this situation than the Head of Urban Development, ," he mutters, not quite quietly enough, and scoffs. Damned Heidegger.

The issues with Midgar and in ShinRa Building itself are… manifold, but mainly there are two pressing issues. First is the power situation. With only six of eight reactors functioning, there are blackouts happening intermittently all around the city, and it's already putting a strain on many systems, vital systems.

The President's solution would've been to demolish one eighth of the city and thus supposedly cut the power consumption by as much – utterly disregarding the fact that it did not work like that. Majority of Midgar's energy consumption isn't in individual housing, for Planet's sake – it's in the infrastructure. The general heating plant took the same amount of power no matter how many Plates they had. As did the water pumps, the ventilation system, the sewer system – all vital systems, which would've been severely damaged no matter which Sector fell. The pipes run underside of the Plate, and so if a section of it was dropped, any section… that would be it for the city's water supply. Never mind the damage done to their transportation network…

Thankfully, the President hadn't managed to issue that particular order, but damn if it hadn't come close. Too close for comfort – and any time now, Reeve worries executive orders might be sent from Junon to carry out the order, regardless of its viability, just to honour the Late President Shinra and his final wishes. It's sadly exactly the kind of stunt Rufus might go for, just as a show of power.

For now, the city is whole. Of course, that neither fixes nor alleviates the problem of power production – nothing but extensive, extremely expensive repairs to the Mako Reactors will do that, unfortunately. Rolling blackouts would keep them afloat a bit longer, prioritising the essential systems, but even for that to work there would need to be some power restrictions. The factories would need to be shut down, maybe. Which would make Scarlet's people raise unholy hell, no doubt.

Which Reeve would absolutely love for it to be his biggest problem… but it's not. Not with an actual killer still running rampant in the building. And, judging by the feel of it… not that far away from him now, either.

"I was under the impression that the situation was contained," he says, as patiently as he can, into the PHS while above him the ceiling shudders.

"It is, sir," the Director of SOLDIER says, his tone mild. "I have our best SOLDIER on the job."

"Just the one?!"

There's another shudder coming from above, and a sound suspiciously resembling something very large tearing through something very structurally important. Reeve eyes the ceiling dubiously. "I would have preferred to be informed that you decided to turn the President's office into a battle arena before I decided to return to my own office." Which, as it happens, is directly underneath.

At least no one else is in danger from whatever is going on - or so he can only hope. Since the cleanup is still pending completion, Reeve had figured they'd be more comfortable working on the lower levels, still supposedly secure levels. Unfortunately, a lot of the files he now needs to start working on are only accessible on the executive floor - as are most of the systems.

"Ah," the Director of SOLDIER says. "I'm afraid we weren't informed of the Director's relocation. I assumed you had headed home. I will send SOLDIERs to escort you to safety."

Headed home – the President had been killed, one of the Department Heads had been assassinated in his own laboratory and the city is in a power crisis and the man expected him to go home? Granted, Scarlet never sticks around to watch the explosions when things go wrong on her end, and Heidegger hides behind screens in his half a dozen operations centres, and of course the President never showed up in person anywhere, but...

Reeve smothers the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose – it never even works for him. "Are they likely to break through the floor?" he asks.

"I… couldn't honestly say, sir."

Great. "Do you have eyes on the situation at all?" Reeve asks, a little exasperated. The SOLDIER Director hadn't been particularly forthcoming about the killer entity that roamed ShinRa after the President's death, nor about the location of the assailants disguised as SOLDIERs that had attacked Professor Hojo, and it was starting to get irritating.

"I promise you, sir, the situation is under control," the Director says, and he sounds neither reassuring nor particularly honest. "But for your safety, it would be best for you to be relocated elsewhere. How about a nice late snack in the cafeteria, sir?"

Reeve wonders idly if he has the power to fire the man. Then he breathes in and out. "Just tell me what is going on in the President's suite, and I will happily evacuate myself."

So far he had found… pretty much no allies whatsoever in the building, after the former Vice President had departed with the other Departmental Heads. As things stand, Reeve is currently the highest ranking ShinRa executive left in the building – as such, one would think he would have some damn authority. But, as he had been for years sidelined by Heidegger and Scarlet… and the President himself… none of the other Departments would ever deign follow the orders of the Head of Urban Development, oh no.

Even Mayor Domino had proved out to be less than useful, only cackling in delight over all the screenshots he had of the President's cooling corpse. Which was still, despite Reeve's orders to have the body removed… in the main executive meeting room, just a corridor away. Along with all of the blood and… gunk.

Reeve might as well start banging pots and pans for attention in this damned building, for all the good his expertise and station seems to do.

The Director of SOLDIER hesitates on the other end of the call, and Reeve closes his eyes, wishing for patience. "Man, the ceiling is shaking, and I know for a fact the President's office has security cameras, I know this, because I installed them myself," Reeve says flatly. "Do you have eyes on the situation or not?"

"… we do, sir," the SOLDIER answers. "The situation is under control."

"I did not ask if it was under – you know what, never mind, I will check it myself," Reeve says, shaking his head, and hangs up. It feels satisfying for about half of a second before he feels a little guilty for being so rude, but – no matter how dismissive and annoying, the Director of SOLDIER was only trying to do his job, same as everyone. Oh, too late now.

Shaking his head, Reeve then turns to his monitors – and does what he swore never to do, not since he installed the damn thing. He opens the building's security system – and with a few keystrokes, gives himself back the total overriding admin control of the entire building.

With a click, he has the cameras in the President's office under his control, and quickly turns them to the action – and oh, dear, is there ever action. There is a monster straight from Professor Hojo's laboratories smack in the middle of the vast, throne-room-like office, flailing multiple tentacles and spewing some kind of fluids around, and it's being fought by a single SOLDIER and a – creature. A familiar creature. Not far from them, there are three other individuals in SOLDIER gear – one lying on the floor, one on their knees, third crouched down beside them.

It doesn't take even zooming in to confirm Reeve's quickly creeping suspicion – these are the ones who killed Hojo, with the killer himself crouched on the floor, holding a… a child? Yes, it is a child in his arms. An unconscious child at that.

"What is going on in this building?" Reeve mutters, moving to call security… and then stopping mid motion.

ShinRa security would be, with both the Head of Public Security and the Director of the Turks out of the building… under the leadership of the Director of the SOLDIER. Who was undoubtedly aware of this… situation. And had not only attempted to keep Reeve in the dark about it, but was likely aiding and abetting the murderers of Professor Hojo.

… who likely is behind the monster they're fighting.

Sinking back in his seat, Reeve stares at the battle going on in the President's office, eyeing the cut off parts of the monster and trying to make sense of the sequence of events. Going by the smears and stains on the floor, it's likely that the monster has something to do with the… the thing that broke into the Executive Board Meeting, and killed the President… while under the guise of the hero, Sephiroth… it likely was the same creature.

Reeve releases a slow exhale and leans back.

… Well, that explains why Rufus was so quick to depart, and why the other Department Heads wasted no time in leaving with him. There's a full on military coup happening in the building, and he'd been left behind to be the scapegoat. Wonder why they hadn't captured him yet, and put him at gunpoint. Him and Major Domino, as little actual authority as the man possesses…

Reeve leans back in his seat and considers the possibility of escape for a moment. Then, shaking his head, he reaches for his PHS and activates his personal backup plan – if he didn't make it through the day alive, then Cait Sith would.

There had been a time when Reeve had really believed in ShinRa and all the promise it held. There had been a time when all that promise had seemed like it was… actually promising. And to be fair, many of the things ShinRa had promised in its early years had come true. Widely accessible Mako-based medicine. Artificial Materia. Planetwide information and transportation network, which, while not perfect, was still leaps ahead of what was there before.

Midgar itself had been… it was… Reeve had been a younger man then, Mako energy had seemed limitless, the possibilities endless, and Midgar had seemed like the pinnacle of human achievement.

It was more accident than intention, how it came to be. It was the Mako Reactors and their vertical demands – due to the pumps and how they functioned, the depth they needed to reach, there was no way to make a Mako Reactor that did not either reach some three hundred meters up, or down. In older reactors the issue of verticality was solved by building the reactors in high elevation locations, mostly mountains, and drilling through them. And it worked, to some extent – but it also limited the possibilities of easy expansion. You can only drill into a mountain a certain amount, before it loses stability.

So, when the public demands and the company's expansion moved along and towards the building of Midgar… they decided to build upwards.

Reeve can't for the life of him remember whose idea the Plates were, who put forth the idea of building another section of the city, instead of building upon the previously existing towns and villages. They'd been making discoveries left and right, they'd been re-discovering Magic, new Materia was created every day, and the technology… it was like there was nothing they couldn't do, back then. Everything was possible. Including building a city in the sky. And what a city it was…

The inner Plates had been built at the same time, more or less. Sector 1 was the first to be completed, but the rest followed quickly after. There'd been little in the way of buildings yet, but they had the infrastructure ready. State of the art power and sewer system, centralised heating for all future houses, a train network built right into the Plate structure with access to the spaces below the Plate, it was… incredible. Companies began buying lots on the Plates before they were even finished, and building began immediately after – it was five solid years of nothing but construction, as building after building rose. And then people moved in.

Within six years of completion, Midgar was at maximum capacity, people were rising up in station, enjoying good living conditions, plentiful work, good pay… There was almost an instant a baby boom. Reeve couldn't have been happier – it was everything they dreamed and more, a perfect city powered by the perfect source of energy…

But even then there was that nagging feeling in the back of his head. That something was… a little off. The increased public security budget, maybe. The rumours coming from the science department. Scarlet's ongoing experiments with Mako, which, admittedly, brought results, but also ended up with researchers injured, or worse…

And then there were the numbers. First year, Reeve figured it was just growing pains. Second year, he made a note of it but hoped it would get better over time. Third year, fourth, fifth…

Wutai war began just as he was coming to terms with the fact that Midgar was losing ShinRa incredible amounts of money, every day. By the time they began building the outer Plate to expand Midgar and bring in more people, the Mako reactors started having little… hiccups. Nothing major, nothing terrible, but… alarming. Because sometimes, the numbers didn't match. Sometimes the limitless amount of energy under their feet… seemed like it was slowing down.

Then Sector Six outer Plate fell in mid-construction, and there was the first lag in issuing funding to repair the damages. Wutai war began getting more and more screen time on the news, and no one even batted an eye about an electric power company going to war with a foreign power. And why would they? ShinRa, by then, was all the government the West had left. It had all but consumed everything else.

Reeve remembers those years well, unlike the starting years. He remembers the newscasts. He remembers the first time Sephiroth made headlines – their first SOLDIER, matching against the fearsome monsters and summons of Wutai, blow for blow. ShinRa publicised the hell out of him – he was on posters, there were videos, movies, he was all over the recruitment campaign. There was even a sort of drama about him, as the war correspondents followed him – how he captured fortresses and forced surrender from his enemies. How he took up a Wutaian blade in honour of those enemies. The reputation he earned, even among the Wutaians, the awe aimed at him.

Of course what those newscasts and reports and recruitment posters carefully failed to mention was that Sephiroth was all of thirteen years of age at the time. They also similarly failed to ask the ages of their recruits, when they did sign up, stars in their eyes, wanting to be just like the Hero, Sephiroth.

"The treatments work better on younger subjects," was Hojo's justification to the growing army of superhuman child soldiers. "Pubescent youths, still in the middle of their natural development into adults, are more likely to react positively to Mako."

And that was enough to justify the whole thing. Hell, sometimes Reeve wonders if it was even necessary to justify it even to that extent. By that point, Professor Gast was dead, Hollander had all but lost his mind – it wasn't like there was anyone left to care about little things like the unspeakable cruelty and abuse in service of… of what, really?

What indeed.

Things had only been getting worse since then.

Midgar aged so much faster than they could've imagined. The technology that built the city is all but obsolete now. The Mako Reactors themselves are outdated, as is the city's major infrastructure. The planned expansion was stalled, of course, and it will never be completed now. Mako energy is… running out. As is the company's money. Hell, they've been balancing on the edge of red for good four years now – and for a company that controls the economy, that's no small feat.

In less than twenty years, ShinRa had risen, had reached its peak, had attained nearly total global supremacy… and begun its slow but unerring downfall. And then the SOLDIER began deserting and degrading, and in a few short years they lost main stars, their three selling points, as the toll on all those child soldiers finally began to show...

It honestly feels rather like just deserts, that it ends in a coup, the very heart of all they'd built taken over by those it had used and abused and powered up in the service of their own agenda. The SOLDIER program has failed, they all know it – there is not a single member that will live to see forty, most won't live long enough to turn thirty. But they're still here, and to this day ShinRa and the Science Department are still making them, to replace the numbers they lost to madness or degradation. If anything, they'd been making more of them, in preparation for the next war against Wutai. War, which they needed to cover up the truth of what was really going on. War that now, hopefully, would never happen.

The only thing Reeve is sad about, really, is that Rufus and the other Heads managed to escape before they could reap what they sowed.

"That is… very enlightening, Department Head Tuesti," the Director of SOLDIER says slowly, leaning his elbows on the console. "But why are you telling me this?"

Reeve shrugs, eyeing the office. Director of SOLDIER didn't get his own meeting room, it seems – just an operations centre. "I don't see what I have to lose at this point," he muses. "ShinRa is lost, Midgar has been abandoned and is about to collapse in on itself – I might as well celebrate the downfall of everything I had hoped to build by indulging in a rare moment of honesty."

"… uh, I see, sir," the Director says.

"What is your name?" Reeve asks curiously. "I never did catch it."

"Kunsel, sir – SOLDIER Second Class."

Reeve hums. The name rings a faint bell – but SOLDIER program, like the rest of ShinRa, isn't quite what it used to be, and it no longer enjoys the level of publicity and fan admiration it once had. "Good to meet you, Kunsel, SOLDIER Second Class. I hope you and yours are a little more successful in changing the world than we were." Or maybe a little less, considering what state ShinRa left the world in...

The SOLDIER is silent for a long moment – it's hard to say what he's thinking, with the helmet covering more than half of his face, but he seems thoughtful. "ShinRa is lost, isn't it," he then says, leaning back and away from the monitors.

"Seems that way, yes," Reeve agrees, and manages to find some humour in the situation. What took them over a quarter of a century to build, torn down in less than a day. The taller the structure, the quicker the collapse.

"You're still here, though, sir," Kunsel comments. "What do you mean to do now?"

"Well, that depends. What can I do?" Reeve asks, giving him a look. Would he even be allowed to do anything? Rufus had thrown him to the dogs – at this point, Reeve is less than a bargaining chip.

Kunsel considers him for a long moment, actually turning his chair around to face him. "As the Head of Urban Development, you would know the situation this city is in the best, wouldn't you, sir?"

"I daresay I have some expertise there, yes," Reeve says wryly. "What situation are you talking about?"

"Mako energy stopping," Kunsel says. "And the city losing power."

Reeve hums. Well. It's nice to know that the rebellion has some environmental roots – though he knows better than to ask about any potential Avalanche affiliation… "As things stand now, with careful management and power restrictions, the city will survive another year. After that, the Mako Reactors can no longer be relied upon."

"Yeah, figured as much," Kunsel muses. "Not what I meant. I meant, if we were to stop using Mako energy, intentionally, and preferably sooner rather than later… then what?"

"Then the city will lose power sooner rather than later," Reeve says slowly, giving him a dubious look – guessing he doesn't have to ask about the affiliations, after all. "The infrastructure will fail and the city will become uninhabitable in short order – leading to the deaths of thousands, if not tens of thousands."

Kunsel doesn't seem particularly impressed. "And ShinRa really never thought of any kind of alternative power sources, other than Mako?"

Reeve hesitates and looks away, to the monitors – one of which has a readout of the city's power grid on it. ShinRa never gave much thought to alternative power sources, no. Reeve, though, Reeve had. And if the SOLDIER coup is really working together with Avalanche…

They have control of ShinRa tower. Orders from Junon might still  throw some wrenches into that, but with SOLDIERs rebelling, the rest of the military will follow, and after that there's really nothing anyone can do. Whoever's running this coup, they've already won, all there's left is for the rest of the city to find out, or not, depending on how the coup would operate. So far, they seem interested in keeping things under wraps. If that continued, if they went on pretending it's business as usual all the while upturning ShinRa's entire power structure in the city, both figuratively and literally…

Then they might not only be interested in Reeve's half a hundred rejected alternative power proposals – they might have the means to implement them as well. All there is left for them is to finish their coup and seize the reactors and the factories, and then… then they could do literally whatever they wanted.

Reeve rolls the thought in his head and lets out a slow sigh. Better not get his hopes up – ShinRa had been so promising once upon a time too, and see where that ended up. Still… of all the things he wanted to make, what would be the simplest, and quickest to get into production…

"Well," Reeve says slowly. "There might be a thing or two. Have you ever heard of wind turbines, Kunsel?"

Chapter Text

The Lifestream isn't much like the Grey. It's more feeling rather than structure, more thought than theory. Watercolour, not pixels on a grid. In the Grey everything had a cause, every reaction had a corresponding action preceding it, everything happened in order. The Lifestream, on the other hand… It almost feels like Desmond could just think a thing here and make it happen. Except maybe not, because that would take a certain level of… kinship he doesn't have.

Aerith could think a thing, and it would happen. It's a wonder she isn't – that every stray thought she has isn't bursting into butterflies or colours or… flowers. Oh. That might actually explain why her side of the barrier had been full of flowers, huh.

No flowers here right now, though – just a festering monster of cosmic proportions and a guy stuck in it.

Aerith and Cloud are both radiating a certain kind of dismay at him – both have their traumas, their reasons to be wary of Sephiroth. Even if this version turns out different, they're still, somewhere deep inside, afraid. Even while being brave and stepping up, even while doing their best to rise to the occasion, they're nervous. And Sephiroth, he is different, both from the way they know him, remember him – but also from everything else they'd ever encountered.

Sephiroth doesn't feel right natural to this place any more than Jenova, the Calamity, does, because there's so much of it in him that he's almost an alien too. Something from another planet, something with a… different brand of Lifestream inside him, incompatible to the Planet. 

A bit like Desmond himself, really. He probably wouldn't be returning to this Planet's Lifestream either, if he died in Aerith's world.

"So, uh," Cloud says finally, bringing Desmond out of his thoughts. There's that echo to Cloud's voice, his uncertainty and unease layering it. "What do we do?"

In every question, there lies an expected answer – Cloud is looking at the Calamity and thinking of fighting her, of cutting down those tendrils that connect it to everything that carries even the tiniest amount of Jenova's cells within. That would weaken the monster, Cloud hopes, and maybe will make possible cutting Sephiroth out of the mass, too.

"It might hurt the people connected to it, if we try to cut the connections," Aerith says – and though she feels a swell of sympathy for all of them and hopes it will not come to it... she suspects it might end up being necessary. "If we do it, we need to do it in a way that doesn't."

Sephiroth says nothing to that, showing neither positive nor negative reaction. Desmond tilts his head slightly, trying to figure it out. It's not patient, nor hopeless, it's not defeated either, not exactly. It's something else...

"We should at least be able to cut those off, right?" Cloud asks, pointing to the dead, the experiments and SOLDIERs with J-cells who had died and are still tethered to the Calamity, unable to mingle with the Lifestream, held in perpetual state of suspension by that noose around their metaphorical necks.

"Yeah – yeah," Aerith agrees and smiles – it seems to brighten the space around her. "Yeah, let's try that."

Sephiroth's eyes follow them, impassive, as Cloud manifests a sword and approaches the spiderweb of connections.

Desmond narrows his eyes slightly, looking between Sephiroth and the Calamity and trying to figure it out. They can't hide their emotions here – can't hide the truth here. Seems like that's no different, no matter what brand of a planet's soul you're sitting on. And yet – he can't see into the Calamity's truth. There's nothing there, but a light-sucking void. A thing that eats Lifestream, and nothing more. A parasite, a disease… 

Guess you need a soul or whatever to have a truth. Without it, all there is... is instinct.

Like the kid.

Sephiroth, though… he's muddled, somehow, but also so present that it's just… weird. 

Cloud cuts the first connection, and there's no reaction, neither from the Calamity nor Sephiroth. Aerith reaches for the soul connected, gently brushes off the lingering stains and lets it float down, down, to the Lifestream, helping it to pass on… and there is no reaction.

Cloud cuts the second connection, and again there's no reaction. Aerith reaches for the soul and brushes the strains off the weak spirit. Sephiroth doesn't so much as twitch, and the Calamity just sits there, whirling and pulsing and draining the light, but no different from before.

Desmond brings the kid closer, a little suspicion rearing its head.

By the third connection Cloud cuts and Aerith cleanses, they realise what is actually going on there.

"It's been feeding on them," Aerith whispers – and it echoes, like a flesh-eating plant, slowly digesting its captured insects – "The Calamity has been feeding on everything with Jenova's cells – that's why it's –"

So, knowingly or not, Hojo really had been feeding it. Desmond's bet is on knowingly. Sephiroth doesn't seem surprised either, just watching them silently as Cloud turns to severing the connections with vigour, pruning away the dead souls and helping them pass on. Calamity still doesn't react. Why not? Even mindless organisms have self-defense reflexes...

Desmond hums and finally steps up, to examine the thing closer – both the Calamity and its connections. There's a lot there, sure, and it's all kinds of horrifying – but it's vague, too, almost senseless in the literal sense of the world. The Calamity can't feel what's happening. It has little effect on it, and it didn't even notice, even with its limited ability to notice things.

Too busy with the outside world, too busy with Sephiroth – or is it such a massive macroorganism that these things, these souls connected to it, they're barely even registering to her? A thing that's used to eating the entire Planet's worth of life… single individual souls would be to her like so much bacteria to people.

Desmond runs a hand over one of the living connections, over the bond the thing has with 18, and grimaces. This is the Calamity at its weakest – and they're still only barely worth its attention. How massive was it at its peak?

Sephiroth's eyes finally leave Cloud – and he looks at Desmond.

"She descends from the sky," Sephiroth says. "Her form is magnificent, and upon the world she leaves a mark. And from that mark is born a thousand marvels, great and small, and together they consume all."

"It's an injection," is what Desmond hears. "She infects the planet she hits and spews forward infected organisms that infect more organisms, until everything on the surface is like the Calamity, part of the infection, spreading until nothing is left, and together they consume the Planet."

Cloud and Aerith both freeze to listen.

"That is her nature," Sephiroth agrees, eyes slowly straying back towards Cloud. "She takes on a friendly form, and that's how she gets into your house, your city, your home. Like a brood parasite, laying her eggs in your nest." ...like a virus mimicking the signatures of friendly, beneficial cells.

Desmond blows out a slow breath. That's more or less what he'd figured – what he can't figure is why the Calamity is still so inert. Even if they're nothing but insects compared to it, Cloud and Aerith are doing some damage to it, and it's fighting Zack and Red out in the real world.  it should be reacting somehow… but it isn't. Even Sephiroth is barely…

Narrowing his eyes, Desmond gives Sephiroth a closer look. Calamity might be all instinct, but Sephiroth isn't – he's awake and aware. And radiating resignation. And it feels off.

Is the guy… blocking the Calamity somehow, keeping it in check? It… could make sense. If Zack was right and Sephiroth had been in the past throwing bits of Jenova at his enemies with the express purpose of trying to get her killed…

Hmm.

Thinking hard, Desmond looks down at the grey shape of 18 and the connection there. There's nothing in the kid, because there never was – there's only ever been that connection. The kid was ever only another appendage of Jenova. And Jenova used Sephiroth for a friendly face...

"I'm guessing the planets the Calamity usually hits don't tend to have intelligent life on them, life capable of fighting back," Desmond muses.

Sephiroth says nothing as Desmond runs a hand over 18's face, feeling nothing but the connection there, alive and strong – and hollow. Cloud and Aerith continue their pruning, cutting soul after soul free, and it has almost no effect on anything – except for the souls, the energies, freed to return home. Seemingly no effect, anyway.

Only Desmond hears Sephiroth's quiet, almost inaudible sigh, as they finish.

"You're thinking something," Aerith says, floating back to peer at 18. "You've thought up something."

"Strategic antiviral treatments," Desmond answers wryly, though it comes out sounding like something else.

Before Desmond had thought, privately, that as horrifying as on all the damn levels Jenova is, it isn't actually inherently... evil. She's just an organism, a massive, borderline immortal organism, acting in accordance to its genetic instructions, same as everything else. It just happened that it had somehow evolved into the worst fucking thing ever by whatever evolutionary quirks that had happened along the way, with a lifecycle that involved the total destruction of planets... but that doesn't make it intentionally evil. Now, though…

She might not be intentionally evil, but she is… instinctually evil. Invasive, destructive, and from what he can tell, borderline impossible to get rid of. And yet, Sephiroth is keeping her at bay.  Does that change anything? Maybe. This whole thing is a weird mix of malicious genetic instructions and fucking mind control, it's all blended together – so maybe... 

Desmond closes his eyes, imagining himself back in the Grey, where this stuff is as easy as breathing.

Jenova is a retrovirus – she transforms the DNA of her host. She also seems to take in beneficial traits and use them to her advantage, at least to some extent. And there's that mind control, the telepathy, magic, all that – how much does that affect the building blocks of it? There's a certain layering of effects here. That's what makes it so tricky – it's not just the one thing. And yet...

Somewhere, inside every single cell of her, there is a line of instructions that perpetuates her existence. Infect, replicate, consume… and rinse and repeat. And as long as a single cell survives, it will keep happening again and again, and it doesn't even matter if you separated the bits, because every part of the Calamity is connected...

Desmond opens his eyes, looking at Sephiroth – who has at least some control over the whole messy multitude of Jenova. "I think I know how we can kill it – but fuck, it's going to be nasty. And I'm going to need your help," he says – and both Aerith and Sephiroth can hear the echo of what he means. Aerith's eyes widen and Sephiroth's narrow.

Cloud frowns, looking between them confusedly "What?"

Desmond looks down at 18, and presses a kiss on the kid's forehead, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Then he shakes his head. "I'm going to have to do some editing," he mutters. "This might take a moment."

"It will not work," Sephiroth says flatly. "You cannot poison a tree with its own fruit, even should the branch bend to your aid."

"Ye of little faith," Desmond says, smiling.

Aerith shakes her head at the confusion Cloud radiates. "He's going to infect the Calamity and kill it from the inside out," she explains a little uncertainly. "I think."

"No, I'm going to make it kill itself," Desmond says, warming up to the idea. "Do you know, the human genome comes with a pre-engineered expiration date? I think the Calamity is well past its."

"You have nothing to insert it with," Sephiroth says, shaking his head as much as the mass holding him allows. "The only way in is through her cells, and anything with her cells will be part of her, under her control – and what is a part of her cannot kill her."

"No autoimmune diseases on this Planet, huh?" Desmond muses, lifting 18 higher in his arms, resting the kid's head on his shoulder. "You lucky bastards."

"I don't understand," Cloud says, shaking his head. "You're going to use the kid to poison the Calamity?"

Aerith shakes her head slowly, thinking hard now. "No, Sephiroth is right, it wouldn't work. There's too much Jenova in him, it would retaliate, or just render the poison inert. Same with you, Cloud, you're too much part of it," She bites her lip.

Desmond hums in agreement. "Yeah, probably," he agrees. "But I'm not part of anything here, though, am I?"

Cloud's eyes widen. "Oh. But how will you get in without her…?" he trails away, looking at Sephiroth, who is scowling now.

Desmond rubs 18's back idly and says nothing.

Aerith is quiet for a moment. "What will that do to everything living still connected to the Calamity?"

"That's the rub, isn't it," Desmond muses and looks at her. "Any ideas?"

Aerith clasps her hands together, frowning thoughtfully. "Maybe."

Afterwards, Desmond doesn't remember much of it. Side effect of not only all the DNA editing he does, the weird unfathomable concepts he rides on, the formless thoughts manifesting into things – but probably also a whole heaping of your usual self-preservation. He remembers the rough outline of it, the sequence of events, but not in any way that actually makes much sense. Things kind of… unravel, as he enters the Calamity, carrying the metaphorical time bomb of genetically engineered death. The rest… the rest of it is just horror.

What he remembers the clearest is Cloud at his side, and little 18 in his arms, weightless and heavier than anything Desmond had ever held, both of them pulling him by those genetic ties. He has no idea how Cloud ended up there with him, maybe 18's bond wasn't strong enough, or maybe Cloud just decided to come with – or maybe Sephiroth pulled the guy in. Either way, Cloud is there, gripping Desmond's hand in his, the only solid thing left in the universe, and together they step forward.

The hand stays in his, and the kid stays in Desmond's arms through the chaos of it, the howling void of hunger that exists inside the Calamity, tearing and ripping at everything that touches it, trying to consume the very atoms that form them. Of course, there are no actual atoms in Desmond to consume – he's just energy. Just a soul. There's less in 18, who isn't… really alive. Cloud though – Cloud is real.

For a long, terrible moment, very little makes any sense. There's a timeless, weightless, endless whirl of painful screaming, and evening loses its meaning. The only thing that remains is the absolute knowledge that he should not let go. And doesn't.

Desmond holds onto Cloud as he unravels – as he remembers.

And then there is Sephiroth, just as chained within the Calamity as he had been without – with the darkness and the endless hunger folding in over him, layers upon layers of singular relentless demand – consume. 

The Calamity really is using Sephiroth – using him in replacement for the parts it's lacking. It doesn't have any bits left capable of thinking, after all, but Sephiroth does. So… it has wired Sephiroth into itself on such a fundamental level that he's all but a part of it, another of its many appendages, an organ. The Calamity is using Sephiroth for his brain.

"I have tried – I cannot," Sephiroth murmurs, quiet, while around him the Calamity pulses and writhes and eats him up. "I have tried, I have tried, I keep trying, but I can't – I can't – there is so much –"

Desmond thinks they talk – as much as Sephiroth can talk. He remembers some of it, but not all of it – Cloud asking questions, demanding answers, none of which makes sense in hindsight  Mostly Desmond remembers the look of Sephiroth, both hanging in nothing and crumbled under the weight of it, and wondering how many layers of metaphor it would take to get to the core of the Calamity.

A few more, as it turned out – because inside, the Calamity is nowhere near as simple as he'd hoped. Inside, the fucking thing is like a maze. Part of it is Sephiroth, and the attempts he'd made over the years – decades, centuries – to keep her at bay. The whole place is shredded with their long-standing struggle – full of holes the Calamity had grown around. Sephiroth had all but torn himself apart to try and keep her contained.

Together with Cloud, Desmond sees him, the different versions of him. The clearest, sharpest he'd been, twenty years old, facing against his best friends in a training session. The bruised and battered child comforting himself in the back of a laboratory while his father – father, fuck, Hojo was Sephiroth's dad? – poured over blood samples and rejoiced in him being sick. The slow, endless downward spiral that had followed his death. The endless, ceaseless longing Sephiroth never quite let himself feel.

He'd been twenty three when he died at Cloud's hands in Nibelheim – hanging that longing on the guy's shoulders like a shroud, like a beacon. There was no one else there, there was no one else left. At the end, through the years, through the many deaths and endless struggles and continued degradation… there was only Cloud…

Until he wasn't there anymore. Sephiroth doesn't know when or how Cloud passed – just that one day he returned, and Cloud wasn't there to put him down again. Cloud wasn't there to see him anymore.

God. What does it say about a guy when the only person he can rely on to know him for who he is, to recognize him and to expect nothing else from him… is the guy who keeps repeatedly killing him. Probably nothing good. And poor Cloud, too, having all that placed on him with no idea how to handle it.

Who knows. Sephiroth might've stopped hundreds of years ago, if Cloud had been able to give him what he wanted. The future version of Cloud probably never knew what that was, though. All that Cloud saw was a threat. What Sephiroth wanted… was everything he never got from anybody, not in life, and definitely not in death.

Now… now Cloud has some idea. Desmond does too. It's beyond sad that even now Sephiroth doesn't actually have the capacity to put it into right terms, though. He'd never gotten it, so he doesn't even have the terminology. What he thinks he wants is complete and total devotion and nothing less. Unconditional love is a completely alien concept to him, it might as well be something from another planet entirely. That's just how shitty his upbringing was.

But still, somehow through all the confusion and mind control, the terrible upbringing, the manipulation and probably hundred levels of gaslighting he'd grown up under, the multiple deaths and the centuries of struggle for his own sanity… Sephiroth is still trying to get Jenova killed. With whatever he has left, he's still trying to save the Planet.

"I can't," Sephiroth murmurs, while the tendrils encircle his head, all but blindfolding him. "I won't, I can't – "

"Hey," Desmond says, stepping closer, reaching for his face. "It's okay – you don't have to."

"You're not alone anymore," Cloud agrees, gripping Desmond's hand like he wants to strangle it, but still stepping forward. "We're here – I'm… here."

"We're going to help you."

All is still for a moment, all except the Calamity, restlessly churning all around them, still pressing inwards. Outside, Aerith is fighting, doing something incredible – it feels like rain against Desmond's back. Further away still, Zack and Red are fighting too, their blows like battering rams. Together they are chipping away at the Calamity's power, but it's still holding on strong.

"I'm so tired," Sephiroth whispers.

"It's okay," Desmond says and gently presses 18 into Sephiroth's arms. "It's going to be okay. You can let go now."

"We'll catch you," Cloud promises.

Sephiroth leans helplessly towards them, and they plunge into darkness together.

Chapter Text

When he'd been younger, Cloud had had one of the ShinRa recruitment posters in his room – the one with Sephiroth on it, encouraging people to join the new SOLDIER program and to achieve the power of the Ancients. That had been how they'd marketed it in the beginning – that SOLDIERs were a modern answer to what had been lost in time, the Ancients recreated with the power of Mako and artificial Materia. And Sephiroth definitely looked the part, even back then – tall, strong, sort of ethereal, with long silver hair and face that seemed to scream perfection at every angle, he didn't look human, exactly. He looked better than human.

Cloud can't remember time before he'd idolised the guy – all the while knowing jack shit about him, of course. ShinRa had this program, they sent recruitment officers into rural towns to give speeches and lessons at schools and to spin this wonderful image of magic and heroics – Cloud can't remember much of it, but there'd been a video about Sephiroth in action, and they handed out leaflets and posters. They made it seem wonderful, the same way ShinRa made Midgar look so wonderful, the same way Mako seemed wonderful. Like somehow they were making miracles, like somehow they were making fairytale stories happen, but in reality, with science l.

Compared against the backwater Nibelheim with their backwater mindset and no prospects for anyone, it seemed so… different and great. Like people involved, people over there, on the other continent, taking part in Midgar's building, joining the company, joining SOLDIER, like they were great. And Cloud, like so many other stupid brats in town, ate it up.

It's kind of funny, in hindsight – without knowing anything about him, Cloud had hung up all his own prejudices and hopes and dreams on Sephiroth, deciding in advance what it all would be like. He'd been too damn stupid to even be bitter about it later, when he failed to get into SOLDIER, that was how deluded he'd been back then, how gullible. Zack said, "If you want to join SOLDIER, you gotta hang in there and work hard," and Cloud had believed him.

It wasn't Zack's fault. Zack was the thing the posters and recruitment seminars promised. To him it was that easy, but Zack never really understood how special he was… and how hard it was for the rest of them, in comparison. Still, he'd kept Cloud pushing past the point where it made sense, he kept the hope alive – and that hope, in the end, is what broke Cloud's mind. Because somewhere inside him, even as Nibelheim burned, he still maintained the hope that if he worked hard, if he just kept at it and kept pushing… he could be a SOLDIER.

Self-delusion is hell of a drug.

To find out that Sephiroth had done something similar in the future, hanging up all his prejudices and hopes and dreams on Cloud, that's… that's irony at its finest, isn't it? And in the end, did either of them ever really figure what it was they wanted?

Probably just as well they didn't.

Means they still have some room to grow.

Cloud's head doesn't hurt. That's strange enough that it alarms him, as he comes to, blinking blearily up at the black and gold ceiling, trying to figure out what's missing. His head isn't hurting – it feels like it's been through a wood chipper, sure, but it doesn't hurt. The spike of relentless demand isn't there. His head is completely fine, it feels like… nothing. It feels like nothing at all. Weird.

Then the smell hits him, and he sits up fast enough to almost give himself the headache he's missing.

He's back in the President's office – and it's a mess. Zack's there, holding the Buster Sword in one hand, and Cloud's Iron Edge in other – they're both smeared in steaming gunk. Red's beside the guy, breathing hard, the flame at the end of his tail blazing brighter than before. They're facing a – a… mass of…

Is that Jenova…?

It has to be – the colour is about right, if it can be called a right colour really. It's the same glistening, sickly purple and bloody black – but that's where the similarities to the thing Jenova had been end, really. What's left is a lumpy leaking mess of… of something that almost looks like flesh, but isn't. It's melting, inflating like all the bones in it had liquefied – if it ever even had bones.

"Did we do that?" Zack asks, breathing hard. "I don't think I hit it that hard – how about you, Red?"

"No, this was not us," Red says, shaking his head, and then turns to look back over his ruff – his single eye finds Cloud immediately. "Your friend's come to."

"Cloud!"

Cloud blinks – and like that, the stuttering break his brain seems to have taken is over, and reality crashes down on him. Quickly, he whirls around. There's Aerith, sitting on her knees with her hands clasped in front of her, her head bent so low that she's almost kissing her own knuckles – she's praying, and under her the floor glows faintly green. Beside her is Desmond, crouched down on the balls of his feet, leaning over the body of a –

Zack calls his name again, but Cloud barely hears it – quickly he shuffles over, just as Desmond shudders, also coming back to himself. Their eyes meet briefly and then Desmond looks down, unfolding his arms from around the kid slowly, carefully.

Cloud swallows, sitting up on his knees beside him, leaning in to see. "Is he –?"

The kid is breathing, but shallowly, his breath stuttering like it's taking effort. 

"Hey, guys, nice of you to join us," Zack says, jogging over to see. "How did it go in your end, what –?"

Cloud waves a hand at him. "Shh, Zack, in a moment," he says, shuffling closer and reaching in to touch before remembering his gloves. Desmond already has a hand around the kid's wrist, feeling for his pulse – Cloud takes the other hand, quickly searching for the rhythm as the kid breathes sharply in and out in a stuttering burst. His heartbeat is a little fast too... but strong, and steady.

"Come on," Desmond murmurs, lifting the kid's hand and pressing a kiss on the palm. "Come on."

Beside them, Aerith lets out a quiet, quivering sigh and also comes to, the green light pulsing around her. "Cloud," she calls quietly, her voice tired. "Desmond – did it work?"

Cloud opens his mouth, but he can't put it into words. Desmond, going by how pale he looks, can't either and just shakes his head, uncertain. Behind Cloud, Zack lets out a confused little hm. "Well, Jenova just sort of kind of died, so, I think something happened on your end," he says, going to Aerith and helping her to her feet. "What did you guys do exactly?"

"Um… that's hard to explain," Aerith admits, swaying in Cloud's peripheral vision. "I'm not… sure? Desmond?"

"My head's ringing like a bell, ask me again in, like, a week,"  Desmond says with a quick, awkward smile, glancing up very briefly, looking at Aerith, sharing a look of absolute terror with Cloud and then looking back down at the kid. "Ask me again once we're through."

Once we're all through, Cloud thinks nonsensically, and tentatively runs a hand through the kid's hair, smoothing his fingers over the soft silver strands. Fuck, the kid is so small – he hadn't realised before how small he is. Small and pale, like he'd never seen a day of sunlight… because he hadn't. Hell, had Sephiroth seen any sun when he'd been this young?

Going by what they'd seen… probably not.

The others hover around them in mixed confusion and uncertain concern, and Cloud can't fucking stand it. "Come on," he says to the kid. "Wake the fuck up."

Desmond lets out a burst of weak, surprised laughter at that, and that, it seems, does the trick.

With little face scrunching up in concentration, the kid struggles his eyes open, blearily blinking up at them. 

Desmond's laughter strangles into a hopeful noise, and Cloud leans a little closer, to see the kid's eyes. Vivid green, just like Sephiroth's, but with round pupils, not slitted like cat's. Healthy eyes, even with the telltale Mako glow.

Zack draws a breath to say something, Aerith shushes him and Red says nothing – Desmond and Cloud both hold their breaths, waiting.

Finally, the kid blinks, his vision seems to clear, and he looks at them, at Cloud first, then at Desmond. "Mmh?" is the first sound he makes, frowning.

"Hey there," Desmond says quietly. "We got through."

"She's dead," Cloud says, because that's important. "Isn't she?" he then asks, looking at Aerith.

"She is," Aerith answers, smiling weakly. "All parts of her. We did it."

"She's dead," Cloud repeats, turning to the kid. "It's over."

For a moment the kid eyes him, blinking slowly, tiredly. Then he reaches out a hand towards Cloud with a look of concentration on his face. A little confused, Cloud stays still to let him, and slowly, clumsily the kid winds his little fingers into the longest strand of hair at the side of Cloud's face. There's a look of sleepy fascination on his face, the hair rasping in his fingers as he squeezes his fingers into a fist around it.

Then the kid gives the hair a tug. 

"Um," Cloud says, uncertain. It doesn't even hurt.

Seemingly satisfied, Sephiroth yawns, turns towards Desmond and promptly goes back to sleep –  his fingers still clutched around Cloud's hair.

For a long moment, no one says anything.

"It worked?" Zack whispers.

"I think it did," Aerith whispers back, giddy.

"Hm," Red rumbles, tail flicking idly in thought.

Desmond is grinning like an idiot while Cloud winces at the way the weight tugs at his scalp. "You need a hand?" 

"I got it," Cloud says, grimacing, trying to get the little hand to unclench and then just sort of stopping to marvel how little it actually is, how vulnerable the fingers feel, how skinny the wrist is, how thin the arm. Like one wrong move could snap them. Like just by accident anyone could do them some damage – and intentionally, intentionally they could do so much worse.

And they had too. There are puncture scars in the kid's arm, and once upon a time, years and years ago, Sephiroth had gone through who knows what in Hojo's hands… enough to thoroughly fuck him up, really. Sephiroth had been ShinRa's most precious asset and...

Cloud thinks, I think I'll kill them before I let them try again, and then had to contend with the knowledge that this is his life now.

"Ri-ight," Zack says slowly. "So, it worked, that's great! That's awesome! What, uh… what next?"

Aerith sighs. "I don't know about you guys," she says, casting a look at the mess that's left of Jenova. "But I really, really want a hot bath. And some food. And maybe a nap."

"I wouldn't mind getting away from the smell either," Red agrees.

"Well, we… did what we came here to do," Zack says while Desmond helps Cloud untangle his hair. "Sort of, and then some. The President is dead, Professor Hojo is dead, Jenova is dead, and I assume Sephiroth isn't going to be trying to destroy the world anytime soon?"

"No, no destroying until he's at least twenty one," Desmond says with a weak laugh, smoothing Cloud's hair back down with a grin while Cloud tries not to blush like an idiot.

"Sweet," Zack says, looking between them while Aerith giggles tiredly. "All in a day's work. What say you we check up with Kunsel and then clear off – the guys below the Plate gotta be wondering what's going on."

"... What?"

"Yeah," Kunsel says with a voice dry enough that it even wakes Aerith up a little. "Our military coup has been successful so far. I'm sending some SOLDIERs to secure the factories and the reactors, and once that's done, the city will be all but ours. Mua-ha-ha."

"Uhh..." Zack says, scratching the back of his head. "I'm sorry, we didn't mean to?"

"No, you just wanted to assassinate the President, with no thought given to the consequences," Kunsel says. "I get it, happens to the best of us."

"We gave some thought to what would happen if we didn't," Zack says, defensively. "You know what would've happened."

Kunsel sighs. "Yeah, no. I'm not exactly criticising here, I'm just wondering how this is my life," he says, shaking his head.

"What does it actually mean for the city, this… accidental military coup?" Desmond asks interestedly, the sleeping kid cuddled to his chest.

"Right now it means that things are going to get dicey. Supposedly Department Head Tuesti is in charge, but the man is under the impression ShinRa has fled the city and left him to take the fall," Kunsel hums. "SOLDIER and the infantry are under my control now – we'll see how things turn out if Heidegger tries to issue any orders from Junon. The rest of the building and the rest of the employees have no idea yet, but that's mostly because they've all been sent home. My gut says the best thing to do now is to go about things business as usual, and pretend like nothing is going on."

"... But something is going on?" Cloud asks slowly.

"Well, we are running a secret military takeover, so...  yeah," Kunsel shrugs. "Which brings me to this – Zack, you want your old job back? We could really use a SOLDIER First Class right now. You too, Cloud, I'm pretty sure no one can tell me no if I pin a rank on you."

Blinking, Cloud looks away from Desmond and the kid. That's… definitely not what he had been expecting. "Uh – I was with Avalanche when Reactors 1 and 5 blew up?" he says slowly.

"Obviously it was part of the coup – you were undercover, using Avalanche to weaken ShinRa's standing," Kunsel says dismissively, and Cloud just sort of gapes at him.

"I kind of had other plans," Zack says, frowning. "I was going to become a mercenary…"

"I am a mercenary," Cloud adds.

"Fine – on a freelance basis, then," Kunsel says, shaking his head. "I'm not asking you to decide right now – but just think about it. I could use the extra manpower, especially if new President Shinra decides to try to take the city back."

Zack folds his arms. "And having a SOLDIER First Class behind you would probably help sell your authority, huh."

"I'm not the one who started this coup," Kunsel points out. "And I damn well won't be the one running it either, not for too long, if I have anything to say about it – but while I am, I might as well do a decent job of it."

Red hums, flicking his ear. "And what, exactly, do you intend to do with it, while you're in control?" he asks. "You are now in charge of over half of the Planet's Mako reactors – and more than half of its manufacturing capacity. What will you do with it?"

Kunsel looks down at him. "That's a pretty telling question. You're well informed, considering your, uh, situation."

"I wasn't always a lab animal," Red says flatly. "I grew and learned in Cosmo Canyon – and according to our studies, Midgar is the main reason for the Planet's quick decline."

"Hmm, Cosmo Canyon, you say," Kunsel hums. "Didn't Avalanche start in Cosmo Canyon?"

Red doesn't answer while the rest of them exchange looks, Aerith half asleep against Zack's shoulder. "You are not answering the question, I see."

"Just thinking. Don't think I can swing you for a SOLDIER," Kunsel hums and shakes his head. "Tuesti is looking into getting some alternate power generation into production – turns out the guy has been sitting on plans for a wind farm for the better part of a decade. It might take a few weeks, but he thinks the factory lines that produce heligunners might be modified to produce wind turbines with minimal hassle. There are some other things too, apparently, things that could be used to get energy from water, from the sun... but windmills are the easiest and quickest to get out there with our existing infrastructure."

"Hmm," Red answers. "Intriguing."

"Looks like you're getting on in the world," Zack grins. "Look at you dealing with the issues. Go Kunsel."

Kunsel gives him a disgruntled look. "It would be lovely to know of any other issues you might be having and might be intending to deal with," he says flatly. "Before you start wrecking any more havoc."

Zack hums in thought. "Is there anything else?" he asks, looking at Aerith, who's resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"With Jenova gone, Mako treatments won't take anymore," she says sleepily. "So don't do that."

"Noted," Kunsel says a little tensely, taking out his PHS. "I'll get all the SOLDIERs in mid treatment out of tanks. Will there be consequences?"

"There shouldn't be. I tried to fix it – you still have Mako enhancements, but any more will give you poisoning. Shouldn't degrade," Aerith says and frowns. "I think. Need to keep an eye on that, though, just in case."

Kunsel almost drops the PHS, gaping at her. "Is – is there anything else?" he asks, choked.

"Well, there are the Whispers," she says, yawning. "We probably need to deal with them eventually."

"The what?" Kunsel asks worriedly.

"Oh yeah, those things," Zack says. "Huh. Been a while since we've seen them. Wonder where they're right now."

"At a guess, harassing the Turks and trying to get them to return to Midgar to drop the Plate," Aerith says.

"Umm?" Zack says with some alarm. 

"It's probably fine. They're kind of literal about these things and also pretty bad about how they go about making them happen," Aerith shrugs. "The Plate was dropped by the Turks, so it must be dropped by the Turks again – never mind the half a continent distance in between."

"You know, I don't think they can actually make you do anything. They can only try to stop you from doing something," Desmond comments, idly rocking back and forth, his eyes not leaving the kid. "It's kinda ineffectual, if you ask me."

"Yeah."

Kunsel looks at them and then sighs. "I don't even want to know," he decides. "Just call me if you decide you need to go on another rampage through the building, alright?"

Kunsel gets them a helicopter ride below the Plate, and between them they decide to head to Sector 7 first, to bring Avalanche up to speed on the Plate situation. It ends up being almost unnecessary – turns out, word has already spread even to the slums. 

"President Shinra dead, the new President running with his tail between his legs, and the Turks all gone with him!" Barret says in the middle of the pure pandemonium going on in the town – it looks like everyone is out celebrating. "It's a damn fine day today!"

Of course there are still questions and explanations, some of which are left a bit vague on the account of the rather confusing status of the military coup and all. They shuffle into Seventh Heaven through the crowd, where Avalanche wants to hear all about how the President died, cheering when they find out that Hojo had been killed too, toasting to Reeve Tuesti and bidding him to be good at his job or else he'd be next. Overall, it's very loud.

"Is there a quiet room here?" Desmond asks rather plaintively, trying to soothe the kid, who's mumbling restlessly in his sleep. "Back room or something?"

"Hear hear," Aerith yawns. "I'm pooped."

"Maybe we should head to Sector 5," Zack offers worriedly, pulling her closer.

"I think I will probably pass out before we make it," Aerith admits, smushing her cheek against his chest. "Carry me?"

Cloud sits up. "The inn should be quieter – come on. Tifa, do you mind if Aerith borrows your room for a bit?"

"Hmm? Yeah, sure," she says, carrying a tray full of drinks in both hands. "Looks like it's going to be a long night – you guys have a good one, okay? And don't just run off in the morning – I wanna hear what really happened up there!"

Cloud waves in answer and then motions Desmond to follow while Zack swings Aerith to his arms and carries her away, bridal style. "You coming too, Red?" Cloud asks, looking around. "Red?"

"No, I think I will stay here," Red says, lying on the floor, patiently still while Marlene happily rebraids the longer strand of his fur. "I'm not tired, and I have missed the company of people. I will see you later."

Aerith is fast asleep by the time they reach Stargazer Heights, and so Zack carries her off to Tifa's bed with a quiet nod for good night. Desmond Cloud leads to his own room – teetering on the edge of whether or not to feel awkward about it. Desmond doesn't seem to notice – or he doesn't care – as he carries the kid to Cloud's bed, setting him down atop the bed covers with the bedsheet sling folded over him for a blanket.

For a moment they just stand there, watching the kid as he settles down, snuffling as he snuggles into the bed – sleeping off hundreds of years of mental exhaustion.

Then they look at each other, and Cloud has no idea what to say.

"So, uh," Desmond clears his throat. "You mind if I use your shower? I feel like I'm covered in about an inch of Jenova grime."

"Fuck, yeah – same," Cloud sighs. "Sure, go ahead – I'll get you a towel."

It's a weird, intimate sort of awkward that settles over the room, as they take turns washing up. Neither of them have any other set of clothes except for the SOLDIER uniforms Zack got them, and the Jenova stench has absolutely permeated them, same as the white hoodie Desmond had wrapped the kid in. Cloud ends up taking their clothes to the inn's washer, which would have them clean and dry in a couple of hours, but leaves them sitting around in towels in the meantime… which definitely doesn't help with the weirdness of it.

Not that either of them have attention for much except for the kid, sleeping restlessly in Cloud's bed.

"How much do you think he will remember?" Cloud asks, breaking the silence.

"If we're lucky, not much," Desmond says quietly. "It's too soon to say, obviously, but at a guess... we're not going to be that lucky."

"Yeah," Cloud agrees grimly, shifting his weight at that we. "What… what are we going to call him?" 

"I assumed Sephiroth," Desmond muses and looks up. "You don't think it's right? With how famous Sephiroth was, I bet some people named their kids after him."

"I guess. I just –" Cloud hesitates. "Sephiroth burned my village down. He killed my mother – he killed Tifa's dad. And he's – he was ShinRa's best SOLDIER."

Desmond looks at him and then turns his eyes back to the kid. "Man, this gotta be so odd for you, huh?" he says ruefully.

Cloud snorts, glancing at him and then away. "You have no idea," he mutters. "I remember it now, more or less. Doesn't make this any less weird."

"Yeah, I bet not," Desmond says, tugging at his towel, tightening the knot he'd tied to keep it in place. "I know he's sort of imprinted on you, and that's – that's a thing, but… if you wanna, you know, not..."

"That's not it – it's not that I don't. It's just fucking weird," Cloud says, shaking his head and looking at him. "I have fuck all idea what this even is, what the fuck is going on here, but – it's not that I don't want to. I – don't know how to put it."

"Got whammied over the head with unexpected Parental Feelings," Desmond suggests, smiling faintly. "It's not so weird. People are more or less biologically wired to care for the young."

"No, it's still weird," Cloud mutters. "It's really fucking weird. If anything happens to that kid, I think I will go on a murderous rampage. What the hell."

"Yep," Desmond agrees. "You might recall my reaction to Hojo. It might've not been entirely calculated on my part."

Cloud snorts. "Yeah."

They're quiet for a moment, just listening to the kid breathe.

"What are we going to do now?" Cloud then asks, uncertain. "We can't keep lugging the kid around – he needs stuff. His own bed, room – normal shit."

"Guess we have to get that normal shit, then," Desmond muses. "Starting with actual clothes. Wonder if he would like some toys…?"

Cloud's brain short circuits for a moment at the thought of Sephiroth liking toys. "No toy swords," he says quickly. 

"Seems a bit unfair. We got swords," Desmond says teasingly. "I think it would be cute."

"You didn't get stabbed through the chest by him. No swords."

Desmond smiles, his eyes bright. "Alright, no swords," he says. "You'll get to explain to him why, though, if he ever asks why not."

"Fine by me," Cloud says flatly, folding his arms – and then trying not to react to the way Desmond eyes stray downwards to his chest and how quickly he looks away, his ears going red. For a moment they sit in increasingly awkward silence, as Cloud tries to think how to quickly unfold his arms without looking like an idiot. He had not meant to fucking flex at the guy. But he did. And Desmond fucking looked.

And they've got a kid now. They, together, the two of them. Parental unit to Sephiroth.

What the fuck.

"Seph," Cloud blurts out.

"What?" Desmond asks, clearing his throat and not looking at Cloud.

"We could call him Seph," Cloud says, dropping his arms with a blush and looking away. "Until we figure it out."

Desmond smiles a little at that we. "It's definitely less of a mouthful."

Cloud nods, his heart pounding like mad for no fucking reason. "Yeah, I thought so."

"Seph it is, then."

Chapter Text

Stretching her arms as she walks, Tifa breathes in the smell of the slums. It doesn't smell any different from before – exhaust, metal, rust, dust and poverty, the same as always. But it feels different – it's like the air is lighter. The signs of the previous night's partying are still everywhere, there are trash and passed out people cluttering the street, and somewhere in the distance someone is singing badly, off-key, and with drunken slur, and it's like a concrete sign of a change.

Of course, it's too soon to say it's really a change. ShinRa might be subtly different, but a big beast like the company, it doesn't just change that easily. Not that the death of the President and one of the Department Heads – and the departure of the rest – is that small, but… probably better not to get hopes up too high.

Still. It feels like it will be a good day. For a little while at least, the people of the slums could look up to their steel sky and feel like things might get better, after all. And for the slums… that's a lot.

"Morning, Tifa," Marle calls from the inn porch, where she's sitting with a cup of tea. "You're up early – or is it late?"

"Late, very late," Tifa laughs. "I got the last customers out just an hour ago, and it took forever to clean. How are you, Marle?"

"It was an interesting night," the elderly woman says, sipping her tea. "Loud, but interesting. It's good for the people hereabouts to have something to celebrate, if only for a little while. Brings the light back in their eyes."

"That it does," Tifa agrees, stepping up to lean onto the wall beside the porch, sighing. She's still buzzing with the night's festivities, and as tired as she feels, she doesn't feel particularly sleepy. She could go for a run, maybe, if her feet weren't killing her. "I hope there wasn't any trouble here – we had a few fistfights at the bar."

"No, no trouble here – although I did notice that merc of yours bringing some friends home," Marle says, setting her cup down and standing up with a stretch, running her hands through her bushy hair. "More than I think would fit in any of my rooms, to be honest."

"I lent my room to them too," Tifa says and gives her a sheepish grin. "Hope you don't mind. They all looked so exhausted. I can pay extra," she offers – Planet knows after last night she'd be easily able to afford it.

"No, it's alright," Marle assures her, waving a hand and leaning onto the baluster beside her, sighing. "Am I right in guessing that Cloud had something to do with what went on up above? Heard he was seen by the pillar – and then there was that helicopter too…"

"Yeah – it was a whole thing," Tifa agrees, looking out and to the town. There's someone's bra hanging off a street light. "I don't know exactly what happened, but Cloud was up there, alright, right in the thick of it, with his friends. I – don't know them very well, but they gave me a hand in the Wall Market, and they seemed nice. If a bit… chaotic."

"I knew that merc was going to be interesting," Marle chuckles. "Ex-SOLDIER – heh. The stories that boy must have. The friends of him – they SOLDIERs too?"

"One of them," Tifa agrees. The others… she isn't so sure about, but they sure were something. And there was the kid too – Tifa really wishes she had gotten a chance to ask about him, but it'd been so busy… "I – don't know much, really. Cloud wasn't very forthcoming, before, and after the Sector 5 reactor there's been so much happening, there hasn't been any time to ask. I'd hoped to ask now – do you think they're awake?"

"There's been some movement upstairs – and I think they used the washer during the night, and someone came down to get something from the vending machine just a bit ago, might've been one of them. Guess you could go find out."

"I think I will," Tifa says but doesn't move, not yet. It's close to that brief moment when the rising sun shows between the slums and the Plate, and direct sunlight hits their scrappy little town – it's already illuminating the tops of buildings, beams of it shining in dusty air. "Do you think… do you think things will be different, with ShinRa in disarray?"

"I thought change was what you were after, what with the bombings and all," Marle comments.

"Yeah, I was," Tifa admits, kicking the dirt slightly. She just… hadn't really believed that they could affect things, not really. For all of Barret's confidence and the weird skills the guys had… ShinRa was so big. Big enough to just eat up entire towns, and leave no traces behind. "I just… didn't think it would be this soon, I guess."

"Soon, hm," Marle hums. "You know, I remember when there was a real town here – before they built the reactors, before they walled us all in. We had stores, buildings, brick and mortar and not scrap metal. Wood too – good sturdy Kalm oak. ShinRa rose like a thunder cloud over all of us, and it's been hovering over us ever since – that was sudden. This…" she breathes in and then out, slow. "This was a long time coming."

Tifa can't even imagine that – time before ShinRa. To her, ShinRa had always been there, omnipresent and oppressive, an unshakeable colossus that would never fall. Nibelheim reactor was the first ever built – where it all began. ShinRa had been built in good Nibelheim granite.

What was Midgar built on, with the good sturdy Kalm oak all gone now? Gravel and scrap?

There's a sound upstairs, footsteps thumping on the ceiling, and Tifa pushes away from the wall. "Maybe in a few days it will feel real," she muses.

"Well, I wouldn't count your chocobos just yet," Marle says warningly. "ShinRa won't give up so easily, you mark my words. But I think for a while we can take a little joy in their stumbling."

"Guess that's something, at least," Tifa agrees with a smile. "I'm gonna go see if they're up yet, maybe get my bed back for a short nap. Catch you later, Marle."

"Have a good one, dear."

There is someone awake upstairs on the access balcony – the black-haired SOLDIER is just outside her room, leaning onto the railing. His hair is damp and he's stripped down to the waist – looks like he's fresh from a shower.

"Morning," Tifa greets him, wondering.

"Oh, hey – Tifa, right?" the guy says, eyes flashing incandescent, almost iridescent blue as the sunlight catches them. True SOLDIER eyes. "Morning – shit, you want your room back? Aerith is still asleep, sorry – she really wore herself out."

"It's okay, I can wait a bit," Tifa promises, looking him over with interest. Damn, he's buff. Cloud's kind of muscular too, but he's stringy to the point where he looks kinda starved – this guy has a little bit of that, too, but he's big. Almost Barret's height, if not quite as hefty. It's kind of… rude of her to think, probably, but this guy is more like what she'd expected SOLDIER to look like, compared to Cloud. "I'm sorry – I'm not sure I caught your name –?"

The guy looks at her and then lets out a sheepish little laugh, scratching the back of his head. "Guess we kind of just barrelled through – it's Zack. Zack Fair. Actually, we met before," he says, offering his hand. "In Nibelheim – I was the SOLDIER with Sephiroth and Cloud."

Tifa freezes, just for a moment, before shaking his hand. It's a little damp. "I – see you used my shower?" she says, numbly, instead of saying, but Cloud was never even there?

"Yeah – only used the cheapest looking soap, promise. I was kind of covered in gunk," Zack says and leans back against the railing again. "Wasn't sure about your towels, so, went without."

"No, it's alright – you could've used them, I could just throw them in the washer later," Tifa says, clearing her throat and trying to put her thoughts in order. "So, you really know Cloud – from, uh… from SOLDIER?"

"Eh, kinda," Zack says, ruffling his hand through his hair, maybe trying to get it to dry faster. "I was in SOLDIER, he was in infantry – we met on a mission to the Northern Continent, to Modeoheim. Damn, feels like half a lifetime ago. Guess it was."

Infantry, huh… "I see," Tifa says, thoughtful. "He never mentioned you."

"You might've not noticed, but Cloud has memory problems," Zack says ruefully, shaking his head. "He got Mako poisoning a while back, and it messed up with his mind a bit."

Tifa opens her mouth and then snaps it shut. What? Mako poisoning –? "I didn't know that. Cloud didn't say."

"Don't hold it against him – Cloud didn't really know it himself," Zack says, shaking his head. "Not before I popped up and it started coming back to him, I guess. He's been getting a bit better, but maybe don't make a big deal about it, okay? He gets these mad flash-fire headaches, it's kind of awful."

"I think I've seen them," Tifa murmurs, frowning, lifting her hand to mimic the thing Cloud does, clutching his head. "Every now and then, it looks like he's hurting."

"Yeah," Zack agrees grimly and then gives her a sheepish look. "Also, don't spread it around? I probably shouldn't have said anything."

"I won't, of course not," Tifa says, and leans on the railing beside him, thinking hard. It would explain why Cloud's been so… weird. She'd wanted to question him about it, but he always got so awkward and stiff and uncomfortable… if he had memory problems and didn't even realise it… "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Desmond's got it, I think," Zack muses. "So far it seemed like the best thing to do is to let it be and give the guy space. He's muddling his way through, at his own pace."

Desmond's got it? Leaning her elbows to the railing, Tifa hums. "Is Desmond one of his old friends too?" she asks.

"Ah, no, not really," Zack says and grins. "Aerith is – well, sorta, it's complicated. Desmond's… the sort of chill Cloud needs, I think."

That probably means something special, but Tifa can't parse it. Zack sounds confident saying it, though, so… "Okay, that's good," Tifa says and clears her throat, trying not to feel left out – wondering if this is how Cloud felt in the company of the rest of the Avalanche. Cloud had seemed so lost before, so – aloof. With these guys… he looked like he belonged. And that was good…

… Even if she had wished that Cloud could belong with the Avalanche, eventually.

"So, what are you guys going to do next?" she asks, pushing that thought aside. "Are you going to stick around? Barret wants a word about what happened above the Plate – I'd like to hear about it too."

"Hmm. I don't know. Aerith's mom is in Sector 5, we're going to eventually head there," Zack muses, shaking his head. "But I guess we're not in a hurry just yet – will have to see what the others think."

"Do you think they're awake?" Tifa asks.

"Well," Zack says, glancing behind over his broad, bare shoulder – and just then the door to Cloud's room opens, and Cloud steps out – with the kid in his arms, wrapped around him like a little monkey, and Desmond following close behind, grinning amusedly.

Tifa's brows shoot up.

Zack snorts. "Morning," he says, turning around to face them. "I see he's up."

"No, really?" Cloud asks, looking somewhere between annoyed and determined – the kid's arms are so tight around his neck it looks like the kid is almost trying to strangle him, which can't be comfortable. Cloud's still holding him, though – not trying to get him off. "Hey Tifa. Is there a shop here with kid's clothes?"

"Um – ye-yeah? It's not far – just down there," she points, staring at him – the way he's holding the kid is a little awkward, but secure, and gentle in a way she didn't know he could be. "It's, uh – it's the first turn left – there are mannequins in front, you can't miss it."

"Is he being shy or is he trying to kill you?" Zack asks Cloud, craning his neck to try and get an angle on the kid's face, while Desmond closes the door to Cloud's room.

"Little bit of both," Desmond says with an amused chuckle while Cloud just sighs. "Seph's a little… confused. And cranky-tired."

"Yeah, I bet. Seph, huh?" Zack says, shifting his weight like he's thinking of stepping up closer to see and then deciding not to. "That's cute. Maybe he needs something to eat."

"We got food from the vending machine," Cloud says, looking down at the kid, frowning a little, uncertain.

"Should be fine for a bit. Later we'll get some actual honest to god people food in him," Desmond promises, stretching. "But the kid needs some proper clothes first – and shoes. You mind if we pop out for a bit?"

"Not going anywhere, though you might want to wash up first – wait," Zack stops, looking them up and down. "You've washed your stuff – how did you wash your stuff, when did you wash your stuff? My clothes are still covered in Jenova gunk! Is there a washing machine in your bedroom, or something?"

Shaking her head and trying to collect her wits, Tifa answers for Cloud, "There's a laundry room downstairs – I can show it to you." Jenova gunk?

"You do that," Cloud says, clasping his hands under the kid and lifting him slightly higher so that he isn't hanging off his neck quite as much. "We'll be right back, aright?"

With that said, he heads down past them, and with a wave at Zack, Desmond goes after him, yawning as he goes. Tifa stares for a moment, trying to figure it out – the little silver-haired head buried in Cloud's shoulder, the way Desmond leans close, lifting his hand as though –

What…?

"That's gonna be so cute," Zack mutters, grinning. "Or a disaster, one or the other. Oh well. The washer, Tifa? No, wait, I should get Aerith's clothes, they're disgusting too – can you hang on for a bit?"

"Yeah, sure," Tifa says, leaning her hip against the railing, more confused than anything, and while Zack heads into her room, to get Aerith's things apparently, Tifa cranes her head back to look over her shoulder.

"What's that you got there, merc?" she can hear Marle ask, amused. "Some new friends?"

Cloud's sigh is audible, as is his eye roll. "Morning, Marle – sorry, gotta go. Bye."

Tifa snorts quietly as Cloud and Desmond come into view in the yard below, headed for the street she'd pointed them at – Desmond's leaning close to Cloud, saying something to him, or to the kid, it's hard to say. They look… comfortable.

Zack returns with an armload of smelly, sweaty SOLDIER uniforms, and shaking her head Tifa shows him where to wash them.

Tifa ends up hanging out with Zack, waiting for Cloud and Desmond to come back. He tells her a bit about his girlfriend, about Cloud and the stuff they'd gotten into when they'd both been working for ShinRa – and a little bit about what happened in the ShinRa Building.

"It was a bit of a mess, really," Zack says. "We didn't kill the President – that was, uh… something else."

"The news says it was Wutai insurgents," Tifa comments with a frown. "But I know that sword – that was Sephiroth's sword, wasn't it? That was the Masamune." And if there's a sword she'll never forget, it's that fucking sword.

"Yeah," Zack agrees with a scoff. "Turns out Hojo, that rat bastard, had it up on his office wall like a damn trophy. Wutai had nothing to do with it, either way – does anyone really buy it?"

"Some people do, most people think it was a ShinRa set up, that they dressed up the scene afterwards to pin it on Wutai," Tifa says, shrugging. "They've been doing that sort of thing a lot, lately. They say Avalanche is in with Wutai too, and we're really not."

"Yeah," Zack agrees, sighing. "Fuck, ShinRa has not gotten any better in the last five years, huh?"

"No, not really, no."

By the time Cloud finally returns, Zack's got his and Aerith's clothes out of the dryer and Tifa's learned that Zack actually fought in the Wutai War – he'd been there when the peace treaties had been signed, he'd met Lord Goto and everything. Apparently, it all had seemed pointless then, too – only back then it had been about ShinRa wanting to force a Mako Reactor on Wutai, whether they wanted it or not. Now, according to ShinRa, it's Wutai who wants the Reactor, and they will do everything they can to get it.

"I doubt it. From what I remember, Wutai wants nothing to do with Mako, and more power to them," Zack muses. "If there's anything they do want from ShinRa, it's Materia. They're crazy about that stuff."

It's kinda fascinating to hear stuff about Wutai that isn't either propaganda, or that weird… stuff that goes on in the Wall Market, which also kinda seems like propaganda, but in the opposite direction. Tifa would've loved to hear more about it – but then she spots Cloud and Desmond, slowly making their way back.

The kid is clothed now in a black shirt a little too big on him and grey slacks – and he's walking, sort of, between the men, taking determined, clumsy little steps with his knees wobbling like those of a freshly hatched chocobo. Cloud is holding one of his hands in his and Desmond has the other – and the only reason the kid isn't flat on his face on the ground is because they're half carrying him, picking him up and putting him back on his feet every time he stumbles. And judging by the looks of it, he stumbles with every step.

Zack lets out a noise that's between a giggle and a gasp, and Tifa leans over the balcony railing, to watch. Cloud has a look of mixed pain and forbearance on his face, Desmond is grinning widely, and neither is looking away from the kid. Between them Seph is scowling at the ground like gravity is doing him dirty and he's determined to beat it.

It's – pretty cute. Weird, to see Cloud doing… whatever he's doing, but cute.

As Tifa and Zack watch, the kid's knees buckle and he almost falls on his knees, and with a little laugh Desmond crouches down beside him. "I think that's about enough now, buddy. You're gonna tire yourself out," he says and lifts the frowning boy up and to his arms with more confidence than Cloud had shown before. "Gotta build up those muscles slowly, else you'll just strain yourself."

The kid makes a face at him and then leans away from him – reaching for Cloud instead.

"Aww, what, I'm not good enough?" Desmond says, pouting. "You wanna take him, Cloud?"

"No, I carried him to the store, and he kicked me. Suck it up, Seph," Cloud says to the kid, shaking his head and stepping back. "I'm not going to be carrying you everywhere."

The boy makes an insistent little noise, fingers grabbing at the air. When Cloud looks away, Seph drops his hands, drawing a deep breath in a way which Tifa suspects will be the prequel to a lot of screaming – but isn't. Instead, the boy lets out a frustrated sigh and looks at Desmond dubiously.

"Don't take it personally, Seph. He's new to this," the guy says comfortingly, giving him a reassuring pat. "And still got some issues to work through. Don't worry, though – I absolutely love carrying you around."

Seph sighs and then, reluctantly, lays his head on Desmond's shoulder – all the while pouting at Cloud. Cloud shakes his head and then steps quickly past them, heading for the inn – but not fast enough to leave them behind. And Tifa would know – when Cloud wants to leave you behind, you're left behind.

"This is going to be adorable," Zack mutters, covering his grin with his hands.

Below them Marle greets Cloud cheerfully with a, "Well, I suppose this explains how things went with Tifa, huh? Or how they didn't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cloud demands.

"Oh, nothing, I'm sure. Are you going to introduce me to your partner – and who's the handsome little fellow? Hello dears – I'm Marle, I run the Stargazer Heights."

"Lovely to meet you, ma'am – I'm Desmond, and this is Seph," Desmond introduces them cheerfully while Cloud sighs. Desmond laughs, and adds, "He's a bit out of sorts right now, sorry," and it's a bit hard to tell if he's talking about Seph – or Cloud.

Tifa shakes her head. She's not sure what is going on, exactly but – yeah, whatever it is, it looks like it will be pretty adorable. And so, so, awkward. Turning to Zack, she asks in a whisper, "Did they, uh…" she isn't sure how to even say it. "Did they… hook up or something?"

"I think they kinda skipped all the usual steps in between and just adopted a kid together," Zack snorts, leaning his elbows on the balcony railing and his chin onto his palms, trying to see past the balcony – looking a little like a big kid himself. "I can't wait to watch them figure it out."

Tifa tilts her head. Cloud and adopt a kid in the same sentence doesn't seem quite right – but there's really no other way to put it, is there? Cloud and Desmond and the kid together look like a family. "You've must have had some crazy time up there, in the ShinRa Building, huh," she muses.

"Oh yeah, we got around," Zack agrees, grinning.

"I bet," Tifa says. Cloud's coming up the stairs now, and there's a fixed look of confusion, exasperation and mulish stubbornness on his face – like he's just waiting for them to comment on it. Well, some things don't change. The guy is still expecting everything to be a fight, isn't he?

Tifa decides she's not going to be that girl and instead shrugs her shoulders and offers, "How does breakfast at Seventh Heaven sound like?"

Cloud eyes her dubiously and then relaxes a little. "Good. Sounds good."

"I could definitely eat," Desmond agrees, patting Seph's back.

"Yeah," Zack agrees, grinning. "Lemme go wake up the sleeping beauty and then we'll go."

Chapter Text

Desmond had probably not given enough thought to his own permanence in Aerith's world. There is that vague deadline of one year that seems pretty distant right now, and there is the even more obscure concept of death and whether it applies to him here. If he dies on this planet, does he die in real life? Never mind the fact that he's still not quite sure about how physical he really is. He's got bodily functions, sure – but Aerith had still spun his body from the Lifestream. So, he eats, he sleeps, sure – would he age, though? And if he will… how fast?

There wasn't really any reason to think about it before, Desmond hadn't really expected this whole thing to last that long. It'd been a fun romp in another world, just pop in and out and back to the Grey, nothing to it. Now though…

Kids are pretty damn permanent. Desmond needs fifteen years, minimum, to see this one through. Does he have fifteen years? He has no idea. Something to ask Aerith about, though honestly Desmond isn't sure she'd know either. Who knows how long anyone else will live, really...

Well, if nothing else, the looming threat of Sephiroth and the Calamity has been neutralised – and at record speed, too. Just the Planet-sucking evil megacorporation and their evil reactors left. Hooray. 

"... And as far as we know, Kunsel's got it now," Zack is saying across the table, speaking through a mouthful of pancakes. "He's planning to shut down the reactors, but it will take a while."

"What you mean it'll take a while – just flip the damn switch and be done with it!" Barret says, banging his hand on the table. "If you got the power to do something, then fucking do something!"

"Barret," Tifa sighs. "It can't be that simple."

"Sure it can!"

"Yeah, and just like that you kill most of the city," Cloud says wryly. "But I guess it doesn't matter when it's just the people on top of the Plate."

"The water system needs power," Zack agrees. "Shut it all down and the city is screwed. Never mind the reasons and stuff – most people don't have cars, so, if you shut everything down all at once, most people will be just stuck here, dying of thirst."

"Pretty sure the running water the slums have uses power generated by the reactors too," Cloud adds.

"We've got wells, and the water around my house is clean enough to drink" Aerith hums. "With hand hand pumps maybe, but…"

"Can't hand crank water up to the Plate," Tifa agrees quietly.

"Windmills," Red comments from the floor. "But those take time to build."

"So what, they keep pumping up Mako just to get people water? I get where you're coming from, but that's just a fucking excuse – they keep going on with the status quo, and all dead anyway once they finally pump it all up and the Planet dies under our feet!" Barret says and stands up. "Mako is the lifeblood of our Planet –"

Desmond ignores the guy as he does on a fervent speech about saving the Planet and looks down at Seph, sitting quietly in his lap, eyeing the plate in front of them. "Want some more?"

The boy reaches for the knife and fork and Desmond hands them over, leaving his hands hovering over the kid's little fists just in case he needs some support. Seph is a little clumsy, trying to saw off a bit of the pancake – the fork is a little too big for him to manoeuvre the piece into his mouth properly so Desmond has to help him there a little, but aside from that the kid is getting better.

"Mmh!" Seph says, looking at Cloud and chewing victoriously. 

"Good job," Cloud says, deadpan but smiling. "Now you got jam all over your face."

Desmond grins, wiping the kid's cheek with a thumb. "Don't listen to him, it's just a little bit. Go on, eat as much as you can fit – you're definitely getting the hang of it now."

Seph swallows and attacks the pancakes with single-minded vigour. It's hard to say how much he remembers – enough to be pretty fixated on Cloud, but that had been pretty much expected. Walking and talking are not quite there yet, but he can definitely understand what people say to him and he has hand eye coordination down to some extent, and that's already a lot. Whether Seph remembers being a grown ass adult stuck inside an Eldritch horror though…

Probably not, going by his reactions so far. Or he remembers it, but it didn't make as much sense to a kid brain as much as it might've to an adult brain. Maybe it was like a bad dream to him. God, Desmond hopes it was just like a bad dream and nothing else.

Seph eats almost an entire pancake before being too full to fit any more in, dropping the utensils with a clatter and a hiccup. Desmond helps him to take a drink – the glass is too heavy for him to hold by himself, and Seph had resolutely rejected the sippy cup Tifa had offered – before reaching for his own, by now cold, plate of pancakes.

"You want me to take him?" Cloud offers, already done with his own – and then they have to scramble to keep the kid from launching over to him and probably faceplanting on the floor. Cloud sighs, wrangling the kid the right way around and getting kneed in the stomach in the progress, grumbling, "You are a menace –"

Seph ignores him and buries his face in Cloud's chest, snuggling happily close.

Desmond grins. "Well, no doubt about who's the favourite here," he muses, reaching for the jam.

Cloud sighs. There's a look of mingled unease, wonder and guilt in his face as he looks down at Seph and clearly has no idea what to do with him. "Sorry."

Desmond shakes his head, amused. "Don't be."

The armoured lady Avalanche member is watching them, leaning her chin to her palms. "I don't blame the kid," she announces cheekily. "But however did this happen? You've been holding out on us, Cloud? Hiding a little secret family? Huh?"

Cloud sighs, heavier.

"I'm kind of curious too," Tifa says, leaning in while Barret barrages poor Zack with his speech. "Where did you get him?"

"Uh…" Cloud hesitates, awkwardly putting his arms around Seph.

"We stole him from ShinRa," Desmond says, sawing his pancakes in half. "And we're not giving him back."

"Oh. What about his parents?" Jessie asks, worried.

"Dead," Cloud says flatly.

"But – what if there are people who want him –"

Cloud's expression tightens and Desmond sends him a reassuring, if a bit wry smile. "Sure, he might have some family who want him back, somewhere. Who knows," he says calmly. "But given the fact that his mom is dead and Seph spent the last three years in a Mako tank, I think they've lost all rights to him. He's ours now. And we're keeping him."

"End of story," Cloud says, wincing a little – Seph is digging his fingers into his sides. "'scuse me," he mutters, lifting the kid up and walking away, to the Jukebox on the other side of the bar.

"... Oh," Jessie says, wincing. "Ouch. Um, I'm sorry for prying."

"It's fine," Desmond says, looking after Cloud to make sure the guy isn't having an attack and then turning his eyes to his food. 

"Hmm," Tifa hums. "So you two, you're, uh…?"

"Would you look at that, a distraction," Desmond says quickly, as Aerith joins their end of the table. "Hello, sweet cousin mine, how is your head?"

"Still attached to my neck," Aerith says, yawning. "Sorry, yesterday took a lot out of me."

"Yeah, no wonder," Desmond says. "We heading to Sector 5 after this?"

"Yeah, Mom must be worried sick by now," Aerith says and looks down at the floor. "You coming with us, Red?"

"I had hoped to make contact with Cosmo Canyon, somehow," Red admits, standing up. "My grandfather must also be worried."

"We can write him a letter at my place and send it over," Aerith offers. "Cosmo Canyon doesn't have a PHS network, right?"

"It doesn't – but it has a radio."

"I can help you out there, then," Jessie offers. "I've got a friend with a set-up, I'm pretty sure she can get in touch with Cosmo Canyon for you. And I'd love to hear what the place is like – I've never been."

"In that case, I believe I will be staying here for now," Red muses, sitting down beside the table. "I will endeavour to catch up with you later."

Desmond finishes his pancakes and Zack extracts himself, somehow, from Barret's sermon. Cloud is the first out of the door with Seph, bidding Tifa a quick goodbye and telling her he'd be back later, maybe. Desmond follows after, with Zack and Aerith following hand in hand.

"So, what's next on the agenda?" Zack asks. "The Whispers?"

"Can't we take a damn break before the next world-changing quest?" Cloud asks, annoyed.

"Is there a risk of the Whispers trying to drop the Plate and succeeding?" Desmond asks, as they pass by the Plate support pillar.

"I don't think they can affect the world that much. They need people to do these things," Aerith admits. "That's why I think they will be with the Turks, right now."

"And if they get the Turks back here?"

"Then we might have problems," Aerith admits.

"Guess we need to make sure we know if they do, then," Zack says and takes out a new PHS. "I'm going to shoot a message to Kunsel – should I say hi from you guys?"

"Sure! Tell him we hope his coup is going well!"

Desmond snorts at Aerith's cheerful delivery and then jogs a few steps forward to catch up with Cloud. "So," he says. "We probably got some things to figure out."

"Uh," Cloud answers, looking down at Seph. Worn down by the clothes shopping and the breakfast, the kid is already dozing off. "Yeah, I… I guess. What's up?"

Desmond tilts his head. There's no subtle way to go about it really, but… yeah. "We're probably going to need, uh. Stuff."

"Yeah," Cloud agrees, wary. "Stuff."

"Yep," Desmond nods and looks at him and then around the slums – which at this angle look more like a junkyard than ever. "And with the way this place is, that probably means we gotta get started from the ground up."

"... What does that mean?" Cloud asks, giving him a look.

Desmond shrugs. "You wanna build a hideout with me? I mean," he clears his throat. "Home. A house – you wanna build a house with me?"

Cloud blinks at him, and the light hits his eyes just so, making them look like crystal. What the look on his face is, Desmond isn't sure, but Cloud probably isn't either.

"... Okay," Cloud says slowly. "Do you know how to do that?"

Desmond grins, suddenly feeling a whole lot lighter. "I've got some idea, yeah."

Elmyra almost cries when they come back. There's some shouting too, some accusations, hurried and confused explanations and a whole lot of assurances – explaining Zack is a whole thing. In the end, she grounds Aerith.

"You can't ground me, I'm twenty two!" Aerith laughs.

"You just watch me – the rest of you are grounded too!" Elmyra says, pointing a finger at them. "Especially you, Zack!"

"What did I do?" Zack asks plaintively and then holds up his hands when she aims her finger at him. "Alright, alright, grounded it is. I'm sorry, Elmyra."

"And you – who's this?" Elmyra demands, turning to Desmond, now holding Seph, because Cloud had been on monster duty on the way to Sector 5 Central District. 

"This is Seph," Desmond says calmly. "We stole him from a ShinRa lab. We're keeping him."

Elmyra draws a breath while Seph gives the lady a sleepy, suspicious look. "Of course you are," she sighs. "You're grounded too."

So they end up having to do some house chores, which for Desmond, Cloud and Seph mostly involves loitering around the garden while Zack and Aerith water the plants.

"So. House," Cloud says. "We're going to need money. Going to have to get some work."

"Yeah. I got a bunch – stole it from Don Corneo," Desmond admits. "I don't know if it's enough to hire good builders." Thankfully, materials wouldn't be an issue...

"Hmm. Finding builders is going to be tricky," Cloud muses. "People around here are hardy, but everyone with good education is going to be topside. And expensive."

Desmond squints a little, until he can see the scattered points of importance in the mess of the slums. "I think we can find a few good workers – and maybe educate the rest… and it's not like the building needs to be watertight around here."

"Just make sure there's space for a flower shop in front!" Aerith quips, walking past them with a water can in each hand.

"I'll build you a greenhouse myself, promise," Desmond grins and looks at Cloud, who's frowning at the flowers. "Unless you mind?"

"No, I don't," Cloud says and then shakes his head. "Are we really doing this?"

"Well, not in this exact moment," Desmond says and looks down as Seph makes to get off his lap. Holding the kid's hands in his, Desmond lets him down, supporting him carefully as he takes stumbling steps towards the flowers. "But yeah. I'm thinking in the construction area, two floors at minimum, maybe with a basement… shops on the lower floor…"

The look Cloud gives him is a little wide-eyed. "Two floors, shops – how big are you thinking of making this thing? No, wait – how much gil did you steal from Don Corneo?"

Desmond grins. "Some," he says innocently. And once he got going, Don Corneo wouldn't be the last guy he stole from either – because even with ShinRa elite out of Midgar, the place is still full of targets, targets who Desmond had no doubt will be causing trouble in the future, while the city settled into its new normalcy. There are always people looking to take advantage of a power shift. "It will be fine – Oop, careful there, kiddo –"

Seph is reaching for the pool of crystal clear water – or the fish, peacefully swimming near the surface. Carefully keeping a hold on him, Desmond lets him get near enough to the water to take a proper look.

"Aerith, are you feeding these fish?" Desmond asks, fascinated – because even with Seph kicking dirt into the water they're not being spooked. If anything, they're getting closer.

"Yeah, mom and I throw kitchen and garden scraps to them," Aerith agrees. "And once they get big enough, we catch and eat them."

"Nice," Desmond says, grinning down at Seph – the kid looks absolutely fascinated. "Got anything for Seph to throw to them?"

Aerith gets them some scraps from her vegetable garden, and Seph very quickly gets the idea of shredding the leaves and throwing them at the fish. It's cute as hell, the way the kid follows, enthralled, as the fish flitter about just beneath the surface.

"You know, you could be selling these," Cloud comments. "I bet fresh fish would sell for a lot around here."

"We've thought about it," Aerith admits, crouching down beside Desmond and Seph. "But I don't think there's enough of them. We don't want to risk overfishing them and losing the whole lot."

"You can breed fish, I think," Desmond says thoughtfully. "Some fish, anyway, dunno about these ones."

Zack grins. "Could be another business idea right there."

"Hmm," Aerith hums. "Aerith's Fish and Flowers. Sounds… pretty smelly."

"That's the smell of money, baby."

Pulling Seph back before he can jump right into the water, Desmond smiles. It really could be a business idea – if not for Aerith, then for someone else. From what Desmond's seen, people in the slums have a pretty grim rate of employment going on, along with the general poverty and low standards of living… It's a pretty fertile ground for some strategic investment if he ever saw one. A bit like Monteriggioni and the Davenport Homestead, if they were in a massive scrapyard full of useful stuff and also housed thousands of people at loose ends looking for work.

Builders first, though, can't start anything without a proper home base. "So," Desmond asks. "What's the usual pay rate around the slums?"

Thankfully Elmyra wasn't that serious about the grounding – she relents after a couple of hours of housework and gives them the permission to head out to the Central District – though no further. 

It's kinda funny – they're still wearing SOLDIER uniforms, even Aerith, who'd decided she didn't want to stand out from the rest of the group. It gets them – especially her – some funny looks when they hit the town, Zack and Cloud not so subtly scoping out the employment situation for a couple of prospective mercenaries, while Aerith chats with the locals – and Desmond finds the tallest thing to climb.

"Workers, workers," Desmond murmurs, looking around with Eagle Vision, making metal notes of the people in need of help. "Find me an architect in this mess…"

"See anything?" Aerith calls up while Cloud and Seph stare up at him and Zack fails to climb up after him.

"Something, yeah," Desmond says. "Zack, get out of the way, I wanna jump into that crate."

"What – whoa –!"

Desmond lands on his back with a grin, waving reassuringly to Cloud and Seph, who'd quickly come to check. "Found you some work, I think."

The work ends up being some monsters that are running rampant in a graveyard and some machines that fell from top of the Plate when Reactor 5 was hit. Between Cloud and Zack they make pretty quick work of them, while Desmond and Aerith chat up the guy who's paying them to clear up the graveyard.

"It's those damn fences," the old man sighs. "Built them myself way back when to keep the monsters out – otherwise fiends will try to dig up the bodies. But it was a while ago, and my shoulders can't take that kind of work anymore."

Desmond feels a very Ezio sort of lightbulb go on in his head. "Could you talk someone through fixing them for you?" he asks slyly.

"I suppose, but who would bother?"

"Someone who got paid, I suppose."

The old man sighs, shaking his head. "I don't have the money for that – no one will work there with monsters getting in."

"I bet the whole community would like it if the place was secure," Desmond muses, looking at Aerith.

"Yeah, there're a lot of people with loved ones there, but it's always so dangerous to go…" Aerith hums, apparently getting the idea. "How about with some mercenaries for bodyguards?"

"I already told you, I don't have the money for that," the old man says, frowning.

"I do," Desmond says and grins. "You got a building background, sir? Worked in construction?"

"I – yeah, when I was younger –"

"Do you think you could teach it to other people?" Desmond asks. "Think you could do a little trial, managing, say, a little fence building project, teach some younger folk useful skills while you're at it? I can pay you a little for it."

The old man frowns. "Why would you pay for something like that?

"There's a house I wanna build," Desmond shrugs. "I'm scoping out workers locally, and I'm going to need someone to train them."

"Hmm," the old man hums, eyeing Desmond, Aerith, and Seph, who'd gotten bored of all the talking and had fallen asleep against Desmond's chest. "I suppose a young family needs a proper house…"

"Oh, we're not – this is my cousin, Desmond," Aerith says. "But yeah, he and his partner are looking to build a house. So, what do you think?"

The old man runs a thoughtful hand over his chin. "If you keep away the monsters, I don't see why not. I even know a few young fellows who could use the work – if you're serious about paying them."

Score, Desmond thinks and grins. "Let's talk about salaries, then."

Zack and Cloud return from the graveyard while Desmond and the old man – Billy – are drawing up some rudimentary plans.

"It was just some grashstrikes, we took care of them," Zack says. "Looked in on the construction site while we were at it – you know, with a little bit of help from up above, I bet we can get most of the machinery in there up and running. There are power suits and everything in there – could go a long way."

"Wait – the abandoned construction site?" Billy asks nervously. "But that's ShinRa's – is that where you're thinking of building?"

"The materials are just lying there," Desmond shrugs.

"But what if ShinRa –?"

"They won't care," Cloud says, scoffing while stepping closer to Desmond and not so subtly checking up on Seph. "Probably forgot all about it."

The old man shakes his head. "No, no, I'm sorry, I can't take that kind of risk – I have people depending on me – I can't possibly –"

Well shoot, Desmond thinks, shifting his hold on Seph so that Cloud can see the kid drooling on his shoulder and looking at Zack. "Any chance for help from up above on that score?"

"You know," Zack hums and takes out his PHS. "Never hurts to ask." 

Half an hour later the four of them become the owners of the biggest single piece of land in the slums since Don Corneo – though not without caveats. Kunsel extorts ten IOUs – ten SOLDIER First Class level missions – from them for that privilege, but since Zack had already been planning to do a bit of SOLDIERing on the side for Kunsel, they decide it's a small price to pay.

And just like that, project Homestead Fortress Hideout Thing In The Slums – and Aerith's Fish and Flowers, Maybe – is a go.

Chapter Text

The feeling of not knowing exactly what is going on is starting to be… pretty familiar, around Desmond and Aerith. At least this time, there's no ShinRa pressing down on them or the threat of mass destruction looming in the distance, no terrible monsters – aside from the usual slum variety, anyway. There's just this relentless… change that keeps happening, and just when Cloud thinks he's got some kind of handle on things…

Desmond, Aerith and Billy are examining the construction site for the best building spot while Zack finishes with the last batch of monsters and Cloud scans the surroundings for more – all the whole keeping one eye on Desmond and Seph, who's sitting on the guy's shoulders with Desmond holding him by the legs. Thought Cloud knows Desmond won't let the boy fall, it looks a little precarious.

It's weird, this double whammy of constant fucking worry over Seph – and the weird and nearly absolute trust Cloud has in Desmond. Like with so many things that are going on right now, he has no idea what to do with it, how to handle it. How do people deal with these things? Do they deal with them or are they just good at hiding it?

Desmond doesn't seem worried – but he also killed Hojo in cold blood without a second thought, so… who knows.

"You alright there, Cloudy?" Zack asks, putting his sword away.

"Peachy," Cloud answers, deadpan, and checks the Iron Edge before putting it away too with a sigh.

"This looks like a good place to me," Zack muses. "Big open square type, all the machinery and materials are nearby – you could build a lot of stuff around this area, and it'd be a bit like a city square."

Cloud gives him a wary look. "You… think we're going to be building more than just the one house?"

Zack shrugs. "I mean. It's kinda given that Aerith and me, we're going to be around here too, right? What with the flower shop plan, we need a place too – and no offense, but I've spent almost five years with your mug in close quarters. I need some space and variety."

Cloud winces and looks away, and with a snort Zack puts him in a friendly headlock. "I don't mean it like that," the guy says, ruffling his hair. "Still gonna be around, but, you know. One day."

One day, in the future – but not so distant future as to be completely meaningless. Zack's thinking ahead, the way Desmond is – with that intention of making the future happen by his own two hands.

Cloud doesn't know how to handle that kind of mindset, either. He'd barely bothered to think about what tomorrow would be like, if he had food to eat or a bed to sleep in, with the future being this amorphous thing that came or not. Desmond though… he makes the future not just feel possible but inevitable. And like he, and in conjunction they, have a hand in shaping it to look just the way they want it to.

Zack looks down at him and then at where he's looking at. "You wanna catch up with the others?"

"I don't get half of what they're saying," Cloud mutters and wrestles out of Zack's grip. "It's fine."

"Hey, it's gonna be your house, you know. You got some say in how it goes, right?"

Cloud sighs and shakes his head. He probably does, which is its own mindbending thing. It just doesn't feel like he has much to contribute – except brute fucking strenght. "It's fine," he mutters and, because Zack looks like he wants to push the matter, he asks, "So what kind of house would you like?"

"Hmm. Small and cozy one, I guess – but with a big yard, for training," Zack muses. "Or a training room in general. I think that would be enough for me. Aerith wants a place for plants probably, and there will be flowers everywhere. Maybe an extra bedroom or two, just in case… oh man, a big kitchen, that'd be great – for a proper Gongaga style cookout. Haven't been to one of those in years…"

Cloud blinks at that. He hadn't even thought about a kitchen. Desmond probably had, but – could the guy cook? Cloud can't, he's pretty sure about that… "What's a Gongaga cookout?" he asks worriedly.

"Everyone brings a little something and throws together a feast," Zack shrugs. "Basically. There was this lady in our street when I was a kid who held a cookout every weekend, invited everyone who she got her hands on – it was always such a mess, over twenty, thirty people in her kitchen, tripping over each other. Man, I miss that…"

Cloud swallows, trying to imagine something like that happening in cold, aloof, backwater Nibelheim. Yeah, no, even suggesting something like that would get you publicly shunned for being that Weirdo with Weird Outlandish Ideas. "Sounds nice," Cloud mutters.

"Yeah. One day we'll have one, invite the whole Avalanche in and everything," Zack says and pats his shoulder. "Looks like Desmond wants you."

Cloud almost chokes at that. "Wh-what?" he demands and looks up. Desmond waves at them. "Oh, right."

Zack grins, and Cloud thinks about elbowing him in the gut, hard, but shakes his head instead and jogs over to Desmond. "What's up?"

"Well, we have an idea," Desmond says, smiling and points. "Remember that?"

Cloud looks – is the construction yard office where there hung out in some while Zack had still been out cold. "Yeah, I do."

"Billy thinks the quickest and easiest way to throw a building together would be to use that thing – and other shipping containers around here," Desmond says. "There's a bunch here, which we might be able to get moving with those trucks."

"If we can get the trucks moving – and we'll need a Big Hand here," Billy muses, sitting on a box with a sigh, resting his cane in his lap. "The shipping crates can be stacked four high and still be structurally sound – and you can build around them and between them pretty easily. Quicker and more efficient than trying to build from ground up. Barely needs any foundations, either."

"We can stack them lengthwise on the bottom and across on top so that there's a lip – the second floor would stick out a bit, and we can have the stores and stuff underneath," Desmond says with a satisfied sounding sigh. "Have a nice walk-in shopping-gallery."

Cloud swallows and looks at the field office shipping create thing. "That… sounds good," he says, a little helplessly. It sounds crazy, it sounds kind of wonderful, it sounds possible.

"And there's a whole bunch of shipping crates in the slums, perfectly good shipping crates," Aerith says with satisfaction. "It's just that no one can make use of them because they're all sitting in awkward places and we can't move them."

"Ah-hah," Zack says. "But with a couple of SOLDIERs around, you think it will be a cinch, huh?"

"Aerith says there are some functional Big Hands in a collapsed highway in Sector 6," Desmond explains. "People can't move them, so they're not good for anyone, but if we could get them out…"

"Those things are huge," Cloud objects. "What do you expect us to do, carry them? There's no way."

"I can see if I can find a trailer big enough for one," Billy offers. "And some chains and pulleys. Could be worth a try – the things you can do with those things… get some real building happening around here."

"We should have a go, right?" Aerith asks, winding her arm around Zack's. "Please? We could have our flower shop in no time at all!"

"I'm for it," Zack laughs. "How about you, Cloud?"

Cloud looks at Desmond, at the way the guy is looking at the shipping crate office, like he has plans in mind and can't wait to execute them. Seph is eyeing the office too, resting his little chin on top of Desmond's hair, though it's hard to say if he really understands what's going on. Following their eyes, Cloud tries to imagine it too. It would definitely fit the place's aesthetics, huh…

"Okay," he says, shaking his head. "Guess it can't hurt."

In the end, they need neither the trailer, nor the pulleys. There are four functional Big Hands in the collapsed highway – two of them stuck in the same pit in the collapsed tunnel, and the other two by themselves. Apparently there'd been an attempt to fix the place that had been abandoned due to the monsters populating the area, and the Big Hands had been just left behind, probably having been deemed too hard to remove. Alone, they're pretty well stuck – but the two together…

"So they have internal power sources, and are remote-controlled..." Desmond murmurs, toying with the controls for a while, his eyes shining as he and Zack on the other side make the two Big Hands high five. "Man, this is so cool."

Seph seems to think so too, watching with wide eyes as the Big Hands sort of arm wrestle and Desmond and Zack use one to drag the other closer. The kid insists on getting as close a look as possible – which means being let down and taking wobbly steps and then trying his damndest to kill himself, going by how close to the edge of the pit he wants to get. Cloud ends up having to wrangle the kid while the others wrangle the Big Hand controls, all the while watching Desmond, side-eyed, as he figures the thing out.

It's clear the guy is in his element, figuring this stuff out – he's almost giddy with excitement, grinning widely as he figures out the finger controls and gives Zack a thumbs up with the Big Hand, laughing as Zack throws a peace sign in return.

It's – it's confusing, how distracting Desmond is. It's like he's glowing – Cloud should be helping, but he keeps getting caught, just staring. He gets distracted by their moment of goofy triumph long enough that Seph manages to wring one hand loose from his grip – and then, of course, the kid stumbles and falls down to his knees on the broken asphalt with a sharp thump.

Cloud could swear his heart stops for a moment, and Desmond immediately drops the controls. Cloud sweeps Seph up to his arms to check him over, because that – that sounded like it hurt.

"Seph, buddy?" Desmond asks, coming to their side with a worried frown. But the kid just blinks at them rapidly, drawing a deep breath and then pressing his lips tight together. There are no tears, no noise, just a rush of a sigh, and then the boy determinedly wants down again.

"I guess – it's the Mako," Cloud says, uncertain, and lets the kid down – this time keeping a better hold on him. "He has enough to make his eyes glow, so… he's tough."

Desmond hums, uncertain. "We need to get the kid some knee pads," he jokes, but it falls a bit flat.

"I'll be more careful," Cloud mumbles, guiltily, and with a nod Desmond turns back to the Big Hand controls – though this time, he's the one keeping a side eye on them.

In the end, they lift one Big Hand up from the pit with the other and then use the one that they got up to pull the other up as well. Desmond mounts the control panel in the wrist of the first Big Hand, wiggles its fingers – it's a trick and a half to get the thing up and onto the utility trailer Billy got them, but with wiggling and pushing and eventually ramming the trailer against the wall so that it won't roll away… he manages.

And like so, the enormous machine is ready to roll out with the power of… finger crawling. The whole thing is nuts – but it works.

"This is going to be so great!" Aerith says giddily, climbing up the ladder to join Cloud and Seph, watching Desmond tentatively rolling the trailer-and-Big-Hand combo back and forth. "Oh, that works better than I thought! Do you think we can get the other Hands out from here too?"

"I don't see why not," Zack grins, following her with the other Big Hand's control console strapped to his back. "Man, we're going to get so much done with these things, this is going to be awesome!"

"Only got one trailer though," Desmond says as he hops down again, apparently satisfied with getting the thing working. "We're going to have to make a couple of trips, it looks like."

"Still, we got it to work!" Aerith says cheerfully, clapping her hands. "Can I pilot it back to the construction site? Can I, can I?"

"Sure. It's a bit tricky, be careful – the weight is uneven, so it lists to the left a bit," Desmond says, handing her the controls. "Here, lemme show you…"

Tricky, yeah – Aerith pilots the thing first thing into a wall, though thankfully not hard enough to do any damage. She promptly hands the controls back to Desmond, who, with a laugh, vaults back on top and begins directing it back to the site, Zack jogging ahead to clear the way. The thing also makes a lot of noise – even with the trailer making things a lot easier. There's just no getting around the sound of metal fingers, scraping against asphalt.

As they begin making their way out of the tunnels, Seph makes an unhappy hum at the noise of it, scrunching up his face in discomfort. Cloud gives him a sympathetic sigh. "Cover your ears with your hands," he says, pressing one hand over Seph's ear. "Like this. It'll help."

Seph answers by pressing his other ear against Cloud's chest and wrapping his little fingers around his wrist, keeping Cloud's hand firmly against the side of his head, covering his ear. Cloud looks at him with arched brows, and the boy looks back, challenging, before determinedly closing his eyes.

Well… alright, then.

Aerith coos a little as Cloud shifts his hold on the kid, pressing him against his chest gently to better muffle the noise for him. "He is so cute," she says, smiling. "I don't know how you can stand it – I just wanna squish him, he's so cute."

Seph goes a little stiff at the sound of that, and Cloud sighs. "Please don't."

"I won't, I won't. But he's still so cute," Aerith says. "Remind me to make him a flower crown – I bet it would look absolutely precious on him."

Cloud shakes his head and turns to follow the rattling of the utility trailer and the horrible scraping of the Big Hand. "Shouldn't waste good merchandise," he comments, all the while his mind very unhelpfully conjures up the image of Sephiroth in a flower crown. Had the guy ever worn one – hell, had he even seen a flower crown? Damn, that's a depressing thought.

"It's not a waste if it's for a good cause," Aerith says cheerfully, skipping after him, peering after the trailer – now rolling dangerously down a slope. "Aw, man, look at them go. This is going to be so great! Do you think we could repurpose other stuff, the way we're going to with the shipping crates?"

"I don't see why not," Cloud says, awkwardly. It all looks like a bunch of trash to him, but she and Desmond seem to think that trash has potential, so… who knows. "Thinking about the fish?"

"Yeah," Aerith agrees. "Going to need some big pools if I'm going to breed fish… do you think the old Mako tanks would hold water? I've been thinking those liquid containers – the white ones, there's a bunch of them around the construction area, but maybe they're too small… Mako tank would definitely be big enough, don't you think?"

"I guess. If they're not broken," Cloud shrugs, looking down at Seph to make sure he's not squeezing the kid too tight. He looks fine, though – playing with the straps of Cloud's suspenders. "Guess you're going to have to find one and test it out."

"Probably have to clean it first," Aerith muses. "And I will have to get the water too… that's going to be tricky. There's no running water at the construction site, I don't think."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," Cloud says. He has no doubt that she would.

Aerith hums in agreement and then gives him a look. "What about you, what are you going to do?"

"... the heavy lifting, I guess?"

"No, silly – what are you going to do once you have a house? Are you going to set up shop too?" Aerith asks, smiling.

Cloud shakes his head. "For what – I don't grow or make anything."

"You could, though. You could help me grow flowers! Or vegetables! Or fish!"

"Pass."

"Party pooper," Aerith pouts. "Maybe you could set up a mercenary office with Zack – you know, a place for people to come to when they need help with their monster problems! We could be next door neighbours."

"I guess," Cloud sighs. How big are they going to make the place? Desmond had been talking about shops, sure, but come on… "Ask me again once we actually have a building."

"Fine," Aerith sighs. "I guess I'm getting a little ahead of myself. It's just so exciting! I never got to have this, you know. House, proper job – prospects. Living together with Zack, I…" she trails away with a small, fragile smile, clasping her hands together like it's all she can do to stop herself from clapping excitedly. "I can't wait."

Cloud looks fixedly ahead and tries not to think about his own prospects, or the lack thereof. Before Desmond, there was nothing. Tifa had offered something, Jessie had made insinuations, there'd been others… but nothing like this, no. Now there's so much, and he's… barely keeping up.

Cloud's not sure what he's done to deserve it, if he even does. It's kind of leaving him just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It takes them the rest of the day to get the Big Hands to the construction site, by which time it's too late to do much with them. They're all starting to get hungry, and Seph is dozing off again, so after securing the Big Hands by taking the control consoles off, they head back to Elmyra's place.

"Tomorrow we should look into the trucks and tractors and stuff, see if we can get any of them to work," Zack muses as they go. "We need to clear out the way a bit and move some of the rubble, and it will be way easier with a truck."

"We're probably going to need a mechanic – people have tried to get them working with no success," Aerith muses. 

"I think we can get at least a few of them working by switching parts around," Desmond says thoughtfully. "Maybe. Wonder how Mako engines differ from combustion engines…"

Cloud, not having much to contribute, lets the discussion wash over him, looking at Seph instead. The kid is squeezing the straps of his belt and looking unhappy. "It's something wrong, kid?"

"Mm-hm," Seph shakes his head, looking away with a weird, fixed concentration.

Then his stomach growls.

"Shit – you're hungry? Kid, you should've said something," Cloud says, and the boy presses his lips together tightly and doesn't look at him. "Seph?"

Cloud looks up, a little uncertain what to do with the way Seph is reacting. Desmond's watching them, a slight frown on his face. He says nothing, but he looks a little troubled – because Cloud didn't notice the kid was hungry? Shit. Been less than two days, and Cloud is already messing this up.

"We're almost there," Aerith says, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm sure Mom already has something for us. Don't worry – no one ever goes hungry in our house."

Cloud nods, awkward, and says nothing.

Turns out Elmyra is in the middle of making dinner when they get there. "You look like you've been working hard. The food is almost done," she says as a way of greeting. "Aerith, baby, can you go get some veggies from the garden, throw together a salad?"

"Sure thing, Mom," Aerith says, picking up a basket. "I'll be right back, guys."

"If there is anything I can do, I'd be happy to help," Zack offers, half bowing to Elmyra in greeting, "Ma'am."

"Zack," she says, sort of sharply amused. "Can you go get chairs from upstairs? There's one in Aerith's room, another in the guest room. With one from outside, I think we should have chairs enough for everyone – if the little one is good to sit on someone's lap."

"That sounds great," Desmond says, smiling. "Anything we can do to help?"

"You can set the table – after you've washed your hands," Elmyra says and nods her head towards a door in the back. "Bathroom's over there."

Cloud, with Seph, ends up just sort of hanging back while everyone else helps with dinner preparations, feeling awkward and kinda useless and uneasy. Between Zack and Desmond, they get the table set up for all five of them – plus the kid – while Aerith and Elmyra finish up the food and carry pots and pans and bowls to the table, all of them chatting cheerfully all the while.

It's the sort of domestic scene he hasn't seen since… since Nibelheim…

"Oh, man, this looks amazing," Zack sighs. "You have no idea how much I've missed your cooking, Elmyra. I could cry, it smells so delicious."

It does and it probably is, but Cloud's mind is churning too much to concentrate on it, or on the compliments Desmond also showers the lady with. There's some dinner discussion he also misses almost completely, with Zack and Aerith and Desmond regaling Elmyra with their plans while Cloud is distracted with getting Seph fed properly.

He thinks and hopes he gets that right, at least, though the kid ends up a bit of a mess afterwards, with vegetable mush smeared all over his face.

"You, little man, need a wash," Desmond says with a grin, finishing his dinner the quickest, picking the now full kid from Cloud's arms. Cloud moves to get up too, but Desmond waves a hand. "No, no, eat your food, I'll handle it – thank you for the dinner, Elmyra, it was incredible."

"You're welcome," she answers amusedly, shaking her head. "There are fresh towels in the linen closet, it's just outside the bathroom," she adds, and with a nod Desmond heads off, with Seph yawning as they go.

Cloud feels incredibly awkward and weirdly put off, and he can't figure out why.

"He's very quiet, that boy," Elmyra comments.

"Yeah. I don't think he wants to even try talking until he gets a hang of it," Cloud says, shaking his head. "Too proud for baby talk."

Elmyra's brows lift at that. "That sounds like a story."

"A long one," Aerith agrees quietly. "Cloud, do you mind…?"

Cloud shakes his head again and turns to his food, as Aerith explains that Seph probably has the memories of an older person, but with his body being so young and weak, it's hard to say how much he remembers. Elmyra listens quietly while Cloud tries to settle his mind along with his stomach. She's watching him weirdly, and it's not really helping.

"Aerith, Zack, can you do the dishes?" Elmyra asks with that parental pointedness that Cloud hasn't heard since his own mom, and with an exchanged look they promptly get to it, leaving Cloud sitting alone with the elder woman, growing more and more awkward by the moment.

"So he was born in a lab, huh," Elmyra hums.

Cloud clears his throat. "As far as we can figure, yeah," he agrees.

"And you just – decided to keep him. With Desmond."

Not sure how to justify it, Cloud presses his lips together and says nothing. It's hard to explain the logic of it now – it made so much sense at the time. It still makes sense, except… except if he has to explain it. Trying to put it into words, Seph and Desmond and what the whole thing really is, it feels like it will just… ruin it, somehow.

"Hm. Well, I get it," Elmyra says, sighing. "I'd known Aerith for all of ten minutes, before I decided to keep her. It's really something, when you see something so fragile, so vulnerable – something that needs protecting like that."

Cloud swallows. It wasn't exactly like that for him. For Desmond, maybe, but for him… "I can't explain it," he says.

"No one can. Sometimes these things just happen," Elmyra says, smiling. "You're a SOLDIER too, huh? I bet you know a lot about those labs."

Cloud's shoulders slump a little. "I – I'm not. I was… I was an infantryman."

"But your eyes…"

"Wasn't my choice," Cloud says, and the way she looks at him, concerned and patient and – and understanding…  shit. Everyone else here already knows.  "Not exactly, anyway – I wanted to be a SOLDIER, sure, but I never got the chance," he says, grimacing but still compelled to share, "I was a ShinRa test subject."

It sounds like a fucking excuse, right now. Yeah, look at me, I was a test subject too, that's why I feel kinship for this kid, doesn't it make perfect sense. Like that had anything to do with – with anything, really. Like it got anywhere close to that… that mess of emotion and sentiment that was Sephiroth – that was Seph… and Desmond…

"Ah," Elmyra says, quiet, and looks towards the closed bathroom door.

Cloud looks down at the table and grimaces. "I'm not like Desmond. He's natural at it – I keep messing it up," he mutters. "Didn't notice Seph was hungry, earlier he hurt his knee, I – I keep fucking it all up."

"Oh, honey, that's reality for all parents. No one's perfect," Elmyra says, fond and sympathetic. "You think I didn't mess up with Aerith? It's a small wonder that girl ended up as well-rounded as she did."

"Yeah, I guess, but –" Cloud hesitates, glancing at the bathroom. "Desmond's the one who really saved the kid. He's the one who found him – got him out of the lab. Then Seph latched onto me, and –" and he isn't sure he deserves it. Desmond did – Desmond earned that affection, he would know what to do with it. Cloud just feels like he's… cheating.

Elmyra is quiet for a moment, watching him. Then she shakes her head. "That's just how it goes, sometimes," she says. "Children latch onto what feels safe and comfortable – what they think they can trust. That boy seems comfortable with you – and believe me, after a life in a lab… that's no small thing."

Considering Sephiroth's history, she has no idea how right she probably is.

Eventually Desmond steps out with freshly washed Seph bundled up in a fluffy towel, pink-cheeked and clearly half asleep. "Behold, a squeaky clean destroyer of the worlds," Desmond says, grinning at them while displaying the boy. "I think it's time he heads to bed. Elmyra, is there a –?"

"I set up some mattresses – it'll be snug, but there should be space for everyone," she promises, smiling, while Aerith and Zack quickly poke their heads out of the kitchen. "Good night, little man."

"Ngh," the boy answers and yawns, making Aerith coo and Zack grin widely. Desmond grins back and then carries Seph up the stairs, glancing at Cloud as he goes and nodding. It's not exactly an invitation, but they're sharing a room, so…

"Night," Cloud says to the others and then, ignoring the looks aimed his way, quickly follows Desmond upstairs.

Chapter Text

Seph is out like a light the moment they put the kid under the covers. It's probably a side effect of everything, rather than something they can expect in the future – the kid's gotta be exhausted on so many mental levels by this point. Even with the dozing on and off he'd been doing… the kid's sort of existing in physical form for the first time in… who knows how long. Gotta be tiring for a little kid brain, with or without weird future memories of a grown up man.

"Got through the first day alright," Desmond murmurs, stepping back and towards Cloud who's hanging by the closed door, leaning onto the wall. The guest room is almost completely covered by the pair of mattresses spread out on the floor, with lumpy pillows and threadbare blankets – it doesn't leave a lot of space for moving around. "Yay us."

"That was a good day?" Cloud asks suspiciously.

"No crying, no screaming, no shouting and no one's bleeding or otherwise hurt," Desmond shrugs. "I'll call it a win."

Cloud looks down, arms folded, face set. "… he banged his knees though," he mutters.

"That's kinda expected with kids, I think. They do that," Desmond hums, casting him a glance while leaning to the wall beside him. "Scraped knees and bruises and cuts and stuff like that. Just gotta take care of them as they happen and keep trucking along."

Cloud scoffs quietly at that, shaking his head. He's still all tense and guilty looking – more so than before, even. Guess giving the guy a break from the child rearing for bath time hasn't had the effect Desmond hoped for.

"You alright?" Desmond asks. "I know I got kinda carried away back on the highway and sorta just left you handling him – maybe I should get another sling…"

Cloud shakes his head. "I don't mind – you were busy, and it was stuff that needed to be done," he says and blows out a breath. "I just don't know what the fuck I'm doing with him."

"I think you did fine?"

"The kid was probably fucking starving, and I didn't even notice, how is that doing fine?" Cloud demands.

Desmond leans his head back, eyeing the ceiling for a moment. "I didn't notice either," he says, and Cloud scoffs. "Okay, so, we messed up there, that was our bad – we'll know better next time. Kid doesn't let us know when he's hungry, lesson learned, tomorrow we'll set meal times and stick with them. And I wasn't kidding about the knee pads, either – maybe he could use some wrist guards too. Or gloves, that could work."

Cloud gives him a dubious, uncertain look. "Really – that's your solution. Just, pad the kid up with armour and call it good?"

"It's either that or coddle him and never let him try walking again. We can find a nice padded room where he will never have to run into a hard edge, I'm sure that'll go fine," Desmond snorts at the look Cloud throws him. "I'm kidding. Look, the kid's gonna have tumbles and falls, and we're going to fuck up. Best we can do is try and prepare, right? What else can we do?"

Cloud shifts his footing, looking sharply away. He still doesn't look happy about it, but something about the tension eases, just a little. "Right."

"Right," Desmond says, satisfied, and looks at the only bed in the room with an actual frame, where Seph is tucked in to sleep. "Besides… kid's got his own issues. The whole thing about not crying when he's hurt, not telling us when he's hungry? I think that's trauma talking."

Cloud swallow. "You think…?"

"You saw that thing too, back with the Calamity – Sephiroth in the labs? Yeah, don't think he got much in a way of love and support back there," Desmond muses. "Especially if fucking Hojo really was his dad."

Cloud is quiet for a long moment, also staring at the bed. "You think he was… punished for crying?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Desmond hums, tucking his hands into his pockets and thunking the back of his head against the wall quietly. "It's a particular look – a kid who grows up expecting no one will help him."

That earns him a wary glance, and Desmond grins wryly, shaking his head. "Not exactly personal experience," he says. "But I've seen the type." You see a lot of that type, when wandering around homeless at the age of seventeen. "And lemme tell you, I'm so fucking glad that the kid isn't flinching when people make sudden moves around him."

"Shit," Cloud blows out a breath. "I didn't even think that."

"Well, who would want to, it's a shitty thing to have to think about," Desmond snorts mirthlessly and shakes his head again. "Seph is… not exactly fine, probably, that kid's hiding some issues, and we're probably going to end up running into some brick walls with him, but…"

"Could be worse?"

"Yeah."

Cloud says nothing for a moment, as they eye the bed and the kid asleep on it. "Fuck," Cloud then sighs, heartfelt, running a gloved hand roughly over his face. "I need a fucking drink."

"Amen to that," Desmond says with a sigh. "I still haven't gotten to sample the alcohol this world has to offer, and now I gotta be responsible and everything, with the kid. No getting drunk any time in the near future, huh. Bummer."

Cloud hums. He's quiet for a long moment before offering, awkwardly, "You know, I'm not sure I can get drunk anymore. I don't think SOLDIERs can."

"No shit?"

"I think I remember Zack telling me they burn through it because of their metabolism," Cloud muses and sighs. "I had a drink at Tifa's bar before – felt like nothing."

Desmond gives him a sympathetic wince. "My condolences. Maybe there are other recreational forms of intoxication that work? Not that I'm advocating for drugs here, but you know. Sometimes you just need to switch off. "

Cloud snorts quietly at that. "Well, I think we can still get poisoned, shrunken and frogged, so, maybe?" he muses. "I will have to ask Zack, he'd know. He's from Gongaga, and a SOLDIER First – an actual SOLDIER First, he's probably gotten around enough to have gone through all of it."

"... Frogged?" Desmond asks slowly, not sure he heard that right. "I – don't think we have that in my world? What's that?"

"Turned into a frog by a monster skill."

"... what? Wait – then by shrunken, you mean – actually shrunken, shrunken? Like, turned into a mini person? That can happen here?"

"Yep," Cloud nods, glancing at him. "It doesn't last for very long, usually. Never gone through it myself, but – it's a thing."

Desmond shakes his head. "Now that sounds like a trip, damn," he mutters, trying to imagine it. Even without mind-altering substances… yeah. "Again with the not advocating for drugs here, but, how exactly does one… potentially… get intentionally shrunken?"

Cloud actually snorts quietly at that. "I think there's a Materia that can do it. Also, some monsters got that ability too. Around Gongaga especially, I think – the region is kinda known for wacky poisons and status effects. Zack's probably gone through it bunch of times."

Desmond blows out a breath. Occasionally he almost forgets that this is a completely different alien world, and then people just say something that throws him off a loop. Actually turning into a frog and Alice in Wonderland spells. "Wild," he murmurs, his mind utterly blown.

Cloud chuckles and leans back, looking a whole lot less wound up – at least until his eyes land back on Seph's bed, and then he starts looking a little uncertain again.

None of that, Desmond thinks, and asks, "So is weed a thing around here?"

"Uh… what?"

"It's a thing you smoke that makes you feel all nice and relaxed?" Desmond asks, innocent. "It's a plant that grows in my world, anyway. Cannabis, Marijuana, Hemp – Hashish? Any ring a bell?"

"Not really," Cloud says slowly. "But I'm not much of a plant guy. Or a… drugs guy? Maybe you should ask Aerith."

Hmm. She did supposedly grow herbs for the locals, so… who knows. "I think I will," Desmond says and hums. "It would be hell of a way to finance our building projects, anyway."

"I thought you already had the money you stole from Corneo?"

"Everyone needs a steady income," Desmond says, running a hand over his chin rather exaggeratedly in thought and grinning. "Considering the hellscape that is this world's government, I bet there are no laws against various mind-altering substances. Now there's a business idea. Aerith can fill people's houses with flowers and their bellies with fish, and I'll get the whole lot high. It'll be a vicious cycle of the munchies."

Cloud gives a very dubious look at that. "Uh…"

"I'm kidding," Desmond says, grinning. "Mostly."

"Right," the guy answers, still looking a little uncertain, and slightly suspicious. "… what did you say you did in your world again?"

"I was a bartender and an Assassin," Desmond grins a little wider.

"… Ancient bartending assassin. You know, that explains... some things," Cloud muses, shaking his head. "Geez."

"I'll take that as a compliment, thank you," Desmond says cheerfully and dares to give Cloud a little nudge with his elbow. "And you know, either way, I'm good at taking people's minds away from things."

Cloud lets out a strangled noise that's something between a groan and a snort. "That's terrible."

Desmond shrugs. "One way or the other, at the end of the day… people will be out cold on the floor," he says, unrepentant. "And I'll make a killing."

"No," Cloud says, definitely groaning now.

"No?" Desmond asks, grinning. "Okay, fine, maybe I'll just be a bartender this time around," he says and waits a beat before continuing, "Guys named Bart better watch out."

Cloud shakes his head at that, and the look he gives Desmond is full of disbelief – but he's smiling a sort of helpless are you for real kind of smile. "You are not funny."

"Okay, that wasn't a good one," Desmond admits, grinning back. He got the guy to smile, and damn, Cloud looks good when he smiles. "Sue me, I've only been at this for two days, I'm sorry if my dad jokes aren't on point yet."

"Your… dad jokes," Cloud says, and hesitates, looking towards the bed. It's not quite enough to ruin the mood, but it dampens it a little. Shoot.

Ah well, it's getting late anyway, and he'll call that little smile he got a win. "Like I said, only been at it for a couple of days. Still gotta work at it," Desmond says, pushing away from the wall. "There's a lot of things we gotta work on. But we've got time to get it right, right?"

Cloud looks at him, at the bed and then back. "Guess so," he finally says and also leaves the wall. "Got a house to build. And shops. And a fucking fish farm  That's gonna take time."

"Now you're getting it," Desmond grins.

"Yeah," Cloud mutters, casting Seph a glance. "Plenty more time to fuck this up."

Desmond sighs. So much for cheering the guy up, huh. "Okay, you need some brightening up," he decides. "Wanna go find some stuff to kill?"

Cloud stops and gives him a look. "What, seriously? Right now?"

"Yeah. I was actually thinking of heading out tonight, to do some investigating, some looking around," Desmond shrugs. He had thought about it and then dismissed it in favour of family time, but, fuck it. "We can ask Elmyra, Aerith and Zack to watch over Seph for a bit and see if we can find a monster or two to kill. What do you say?"

 "Um," Cloud says, slow. "Are you for real – are you sure?"

Desmond shrugs. He'd been planning on doing it tomorrow, really, breaking away from Zack and Aerith a bit, to give them a bit of alone time maybe, all the while having some alone time with Cloud and Seph himself, see where that would go, but hell. "We'll be back before he wakes up."

Cloud hesitates, running a hand over his neck. "What were you thinking of… checking out?"

Desmond shrugs. "Whatever caught my eye, really. We're still looking for workers – and I want to make friends. Did I tell you about my ability?" he asks and offers him a wry grin. "My very special Ancient brand of magic. I can see stuff that's important – people that need help. Stuff like that. There's someone out there that seems pretty important – I think they will help us with the building stuff."

"… huh," Cloud mutters, frowning. "Like the way you found Billy?"

"Yep," Desmond agrees, smiling. "So, what do you say?"

"… How much climbing is this checking things out going to take?" Cloud asks suspiciously.

Desmond grins and pushes away from the wall. "Guess we'll find out."

Well, distracted and on a downward spiral of self-doubt or not… Cloud still looks great when he's kicking ass. Fighting definitely gives the guy some stability too – though it probably also helps that they got an actual quest to kill the monsters from a local woman, and thus they're actually making a difference, doing good. Cloud might act aloof and like he doesn't care – but there's a do-gooder streak in there. Nothing quite like helping people.

Desmond gets his kicks in too, brings the Ancestors out to play, but mostly he lets Cloud do his thing, as the guy seems to enjoy it so much, blowing off steam. And again… it looks damn good.

"Are we far off now?" Cloud asks, while the critters turn into wisps of Lifestream, and he puts his sword away.

"No idea," Desmond says, smiling and peers into the green speckled darkness. "I just know it's thataway direction and we're getting closer."

"Hm," Cloud answers, glancing back the way they came from – the way of Aerith's and Elmyra's house – and then ahead again, gritting his teeth.

"He's fine," Desmond says. "It's been twenty minutes. Zack and Aerith are there – and Elmyra. They're not going to let anything happen to him."

"I know – I –" Cloud stops, shakes his head and then sets forward determinedly, navigating their way through the piles of trash. "So how does your thing actually work? Is it telepathy?"

Knowing a self-distraction tactic when he sees it, Desmond hums. "I don't really know. No science for it back in my world," he admits. "Aerith can feel people's souls – have you noticed? I think it's something like that, but made more… useful, I guess. I can see things with potential benefit."

"That's cold," Cloud comments.

"Guess my planet kinda is. The Lifestream there is, anyway," Desmond shrugs. "Ours got turned into machinery, kinda. There's no sentiment to it, no spirituality. Just data points, statistics and probabilities."

"I'll pretend I understand that," Cloud mutters. "Please feel free to not explain. Not sure I want to know."

Desmond smiles a little, looking at him. "I don't blame you," he muses. "Half of the time I don't either." And he'd lived it.

"Is it – it's gotta be different here," Cloud says. "Even disregarding magic and Materia and everything your world didn't have. Is it difficult?"

"Not really – just weird and wacky. Honestly, the way the Grey worked for us was nothing like the Lifestream – it doesn't really affect people's lives in the same way."

Cloud hums, looking back again. Desmond gives him a look, and the guy blows out a frustrated breath. "How are you not worried?" he demands.

"I am – I'm just hiding it better. Also I cheat – I can tell he's fine," Desmond admits. "Sorta."

"You can see him? From all the way over here?"

"Seph is the most important thing in this city," Desmond shrugs and then nods ahead. "Look at that, stuff for you to take your frustrations out on. Have at it."

Cloud mutters a curse, and then they end up in another fight against some adventurous rats, looking to gnaw their boots off. Cloud handles them with vim and vigor, while Desmond sits back and watches appreciatively. Again, it's over in no time at all.

"He's still fine," Desmond assures him as Cloud's eyes stray back again. "Trust me, I'll let you know the moment that changes."

"... Right. You know, you're not going to level up that way," Cloud comments, throwing him a glance while putting his sword away again.

"What?" Desmond asks, joining him with a smile.

"Staying that far back – you're not getting any of the EXP. I appreciate you not getting in the way, it's always annoying when people try to get up close when you're swinging a big ass sword around – but I'm not exactly trying to hog all the EXP here. You can get closer, you know."

Desmond gives him a look and then asks, again, slower, "What?"

Giving him an uncertain look, Cloud explains. It turns out that when you kill monsters, you apparently get a little bit of the released Lifestream from them, and get stronger by absorbing it. ShinRa even figured out a way to calculate the power increase. SOLDIERs are artificially boosted by their Mako, and they get more of the released Lifestream – more of the EXP – than regular people thanks to it, but apparently… anyone can benefit from a little monster killing.

Desmond turns the words in his head for a moment and then asks, flatly, "No, seriously – what?"

"I… guess Aerith didn't explain," Cloud says wryly.

"Um, no? You get people juice from things you kill?" Desmond demands. "What? And that's, like, common knowledge? Seriously?"

Cloud sighs. "Stop calling it people juice."

"But that's what it is, isn't it?" Desmond asks, shaking his head. "This is blowing my mind – I have so many questions. Does that have something to do with the whole ATB stuff? I've killed things before here, why haven't I noticed this EXP stuff?"

"You need to get a lot before it makes a difference," Cloud says awkwardly and shrugs. "Or maybe you don't take EXP in, being from another Planet. Don't ask me."

"No, I think I gotta ask a few things here," Desmond says, determined now. "So anyone can get stronger from it? What is this, a videogame? Don't answer that – what do you mean by level up?"

Cloud sighs again, but does his best to answer, though he doesn't seem to really get it either. It's just a thing that happens, apparently, everyone knows about it – thought very few ever really… go at it, trying to intentionally level up. Because it is, obviously, pretty dangerous, seeing as you have to kill monsters for EXP and all that. And killing monsters with guns apparently doesn't really do the thing – you have to get up close and personal, otherwise the EXP stuff just fades into the aether or whatever. And that's why ShinRa infantry is weak, apparently – and why SOLDIERs use swords and not guns.

"Right, okay, so…" Desmond says slowly, trying to make sense of this new quirk of the Planet.  "Why is everything an abbreviation? What does EXP actually stand for?"

Cloud shrugs. "I don't know. ShinRa's the one that turned it into science, ask them – they're the ones who came up with the designations for everything," he answers and gives him a look. "Do you want to try killing something and checking if you feel something?"

Desmond hesitates and then shakes his head. Up close and personal to feel some things – if he wasn't busy getting his socks blown off by people of this place being apparently natural energy vampires, he'd be all over that accidental innuendo. But no, "Later, I definitely want to have a go later," he says. "We're almost near the guy I've been tracking – or gal, or whatever they are. Just over that pile."

"Right," Cloud says and motions him to go ahead. "Right after you."

"So, this whole level up stuff – does literally everyone have one, or is there a set amount of things you need to kill before it starts to show?" Desmond asks, jogging ahead and taking a little leap to climb on top of a broken trash bin. "Does Seph have a level?"

"Probably not a very high one now, but yeah, everyone does," Cloud says, following after with a superhuman leap. "If you're alive, you've got a level. I guess it's Lifestream in you – and everyone starts at one."

"Okay – is there a way to tell what level you are?"

"Assess Materia."

"Really?" Desmond asks, fascinated. "There's Materia for everything, huh? Do you have one – can you tell what level I am? Wait, what level are you? It's gotta be pretty high, since you're all juiced up, right?"

"Stop calling it – I don't have one, I gave my Assess to Red. Forgot to get it back," Cloud admits and looks ahead, trying to see into the darkness ahead. "I don't see anyone."

Shaking his head and putting the thought of levels aside – seriously, life is a videogame now – Desmond looks ahead and then squints into the darkness, sharpening his vision until the darkness recedes. There is that blazing thing of importance – and damn, it's small. Very, very small.

For one heart-clenching moment Desmond thinks, fuck, it's another kid? But no, it isn't. What it is exactly, he can't tell – but that's not exactly a human shape. Not many humans with tails. It's not like Red, though – it's walking on two feet. And carrying a little bundle on a stick over its shoulder – a bindle.

Desmond tilts his head as the Importance comes closer and he sees a little bit more of it. "Huh. Hey, Cloud? Are there other creatures like Red – like, sentient creatures that can talk and walk and… wear boots and capes? That aren't human, I mean."

"Not that I know of – Red's species is kinda known for being the only other sentient species out there, aside from humans and Ancients," Cloud answers, peering into the darkness. "Why?"

"Huh," Desmond answers and folds his arms. "Okay, next question. Are there spells that turn people into cats?"

Chapter Text

Reeve is dozing off at the desk when a knock by the door wakes him, and the glare of his computer screen almost blinds him. There's a SOLDIER at the open door.

"Department Head Tuesti?" the SOLDIER says. "According to our time stamps, you haven't left the building for nearly 18 hours. The Director sent me to deliver you either home, or to the recreation centre for rest."

"No – I have too much work," Reeve groans and then winces as his neck lets out an alarming crack. "What time is it?"

"Twenty three hours forty five minutes, sir."

Checking his computer blearily, Reeve sighs. The render isn't complete yet – still two more hours to go, and then he'd have 3d model for the turbine design to send to the engineers for cast moulding, so that they could start working on re-fitting the production lines… they still don't know if the factories could be re-fitted, and none of his designs have been fully tested either – and wouldn't be, until there'd be physical models, and – there is just so much work to be done.

The SOLDIER is still waiting for him, so Reeve sighs and waves a hand. "I'll have a coffee from the cafeteria, and I'll be right as rain and back to work," he says, rubbing at his eyes. Maybe he could get another computer and start working on the fluid simulations…

"Sir, I think you missed the part where the Director sent me," the SOLDIER says, clearing his throat delicately.

Reeve stops for a moment, as reality asserts itself and things outside the current project bleed into his mind – like the actual reason why he's working this hard in the first place, the limited amount of freedom and goodwill he's working with. "Ah," Reeve says and picks up his PHS from the table. "Of course. I will head to the recreation centre, then."

"Or home, sir, either is fine so long as you get a minimum of six hours of sleep," the SOLDIER says. "Director's orders."

Reeve hesitates at that, pushing his PHS smoothly into his pocket. "Home," he repeats slowly. It's a level of freedom he wasn't sure he'd be given. He'd been allowed to leave and visit the factories and the reactors for a quick assessment and to begin working on preliminary reassignment plans, but…

Of course, he would be under guard and scrutiny even at home, but – he still hadn't expected it. For a would-be-military-dictator, their new Director – already the only Director left – is rather lenient. But then again, Kunsel seems like an extremely practical sort of person – it doesn't surprise Reeve much that Kunsel would actually give some thought to getting his workers to rest on occasion. Sleep-deprived workers aren't efficient.

"Home it is, then, sir," the SOLDIER says. "There will be a car waiting for us in front. Do you need to bring anything from the office with you?"

"No, I – don't plan on working from home," Reeve says ruefully and steps around his desk – his new desk, conveniently situated on an otherwise empty office floor just above the SOLDIER floors. So far they'd only let the absolute essential workers back into the building, which meant that a good 75% of the place is empty. It's a little eerie, to have a place so big be so void of people.

The SOLDIER leads Reeve to the elevators and uses his own keycard to send the elevator downwards. Reeve doesn't bother to even figure where his own keycard is right now – it doesn't work anymore anyway.

"Have there been any developments I might need to know of?" Reeve asks, delicately.

"Not that I know of, sir," the SOLDIER answers. "There's been another televised speech by the former Vice President, regarding an incident in Junon, but it doesn't affect us here."

Reeve frowns at that. "Incident in Junon?"

"Yes, sir – some sort of attack by spectral type fiends," the SOLDIER says.

Hm. Well, Junon was less defended against that sort of thing, lacking Midgar's walls – the new part of the city was somewhat protected by it's high elevation and the way the city was structured, but that wouldn't help it against fiends that flew, or ones that potentially could go through walls… It would be a fascinating issue to solve – for someone else.

The lobby is empty and dark, all lights turned off or on the lowest setting. Outside there's a handful of infantry troopers hanging by the entrance, setting up security fences outside. Reeve considers them, and a stack of shields and other protective gear that has been moved just inside the lobby, and comes to the conclusion they're expecting a riot. "Has there been trouble?"

"Director assumes there will be a protest tomorrow," the SOLDIER answers. "People aren't happy about the layoffs."

Reeve hums in agreement. "No, they wouldn't be. I don't suppose any decisions have been made about the civilian workers?"

"The Director is still thinking about it," the SOLDIER says, nodding to the infantry men as they step out and then motioning ahead. "Your car, sir."

Reeve heads in and is in no way surprised when the SOLDIER joins him for the entire way. They don't talk as the car makes its way through the nearly vacant streets, and to the residential areas in Sector 1. Once there, the SOLDIER bids him a simple goodnight – and the car idles up front until Reeve makes it inside the house.

Surprisingly, his home doesn't look ransacked – it doesn't even look like anyone's been there. Though tempted to check the place for bugs, Reeve settles on leaving the lights off and loosening his tie and sitting down for a moment, contemplating tiredly the reality of things as they stand. It's still too soon to say, but…

The Director had halted all Materia, weapons and vehicle production, and all Science and Research and Development projects had been put on hold. As far as Reeve can tell, the factories producing essential goods are still operating, business as usual, but everything that could be cut had been cut. It isn't enough to cover for the lack of power, of course, but it delayed the inevitable. Whatever plan Kunsel and his cohort's had, they wanted to keep Midgar running for it. That… that is something, at least.

It's more than the late President had been planning, anyway.

Reeve sits in the darkness in a sort of exhausted stupor for a while, entertaining the thought of getting a glass of whiskey to warm himself up with, before deciding that he'd much rather have something to eat instead and getting up again with a groan.

He's halfway through fixing himself a late dinner, when his PHS buzzes softly in his pocket.

For a moment, Reeve considers his options. The ShinRa Building was in communications blackout – Kunsel had put signal jammers on sometime while Reeve had been inspecting the factories, to control the flow of information. Apparently the same couldn't be said for the rest of the city. Was it an oversight of the Director, or…

There's another buzz, and another, and another – as an incoming message after another barrages the device, a whole day's worth of emails coming all at once.

Slowly, waiting for the other shoe to drop, Reeve takes his PHS. There are several messages from Rufus Shinra, a few from Scarlet, some from Heidegger, and two from the head of Turks – eighteen from his own workers, who hadn't been able to come to work since the coup and didn't know what was going on. There's three missed calls from his mother, too, and a message, which makes Reeve's shoulders slump with guilt. He'd missed their weekly dinner, she must be worried sick, especially since he hadn't had the time to call her since the President died, and by now the whole planet would be aware…

Reeve considers whether he even wants to check what his former colleagues want from him, his finger hovering over Rufus' name. Now would be a good time to choose where his loyalties really lie – whether he aligned with the new military regime, or if he favoured the old corporate one, and what that actually meant for his future…

There's another buzz as a new notification pops up – this one with only a little symbol of a crown.

Cait Sith.

Leaning his hip against the polished kitchen counter, Reeve considers his chances and his security. He isn't worried about his PHS not being secure – it was a custom device, he'd designed it himself, the security on it was state of the art. But his house likely had cameras planted in it…

In the end he only checks the message from his mother and schedules a reply to be sent in the morning when she'd be awake, before typing up a quick everything is alright, I will get back to you later message to his workers. That done, Reeve resolutely puts his PHS down, turning the screen off. Then, swallowing his pounding heart, he turns to his cooking and finishes making dinner.

It isn't until after a quick bath, change of clothes and what he hopes is a natural looking evening routine, that he dares to take a look at his PHS again – hidden under the covers of his bed like a child hiding from his parents. By that point, Cait Sith has sent in three additional requests, the last of which was concerning information about… tractors?

Flicking through to the first request, Reeve frowns and then plays back what the little toy had seen.

Two men, both of them looking rather unnervingly familiar, had found Cait Sith in the slums, while the toy was looking for a way out of the city. The very same SOLDIERs who killed Professor Hojo – they'd found Cait Sith. The cat had done his best to talk his way around them, but one of the SOLDIERs was adamant about helping him, which had ended with the cat sitting on the man's shoulder as they took him back with them.

So much for his plan B, Reeve thinks morosely, and for a moment considers throwing his PHS into the wall. Instead he very carefully turns the audio on as low as the setting goes, to listen to what they talked about.

"… not one to judge," the SOLDIER carrying Cait Sith says. "Personally I think capes are an excellent fashion choice that people don't give enough credit to. But like, you're a cat. Do boots actually do anything for you?"

"They protect my feet," Cait Sith answers. "Only got the one pair, m'self, wouldn't want anything to happen to them."

"Sensible," the SOLDIER says. "But the cape is totally a fashion choice, right? And the crown?""

"Why, the crown's pretty, isn't it? At least I think so – what do you think?"

The shorter SOLDIER sighs, shaking his head. "I don't care," he says.

Reeve frowns confusedly and then skips a little bit ahead, watching their progress through the junkyard of the slums in fast motion until they stop by a flipped pickup truck. "… well, I don't know," Cait Sith says, hemming and hawing judging by the tone, as the shorter SOLDIER gives the pickup a slight kick. "Being a robot don't mean I'm an expert, exactly – sure, I know a thing or two about mechanics, but that's as much as anyone else knows!"

"I think you're being too humble," the taller SOLDIER says, setting the toy finally down to sit on top of the truck. The guy is grinning at Cait Sith – and it doesn't look malicious. It actually looks rather cheerful, almost reassuring. "You said you're looking to find your own way, figuring things out – trying to find a place. Maybe there's a place for you here."

"Oh, I don't know, it's a bit sudden," Cait Sith says, exaggeratedly coy. "I don't even know what it is you want, really? To fix up pickup trucks?"

"And tractors," the taller SOLDIER agrees.

"And the whole world," the shorter SOLDIER mutters, shaking his head and stretching his arms. "Do we have to do this now – can't this wait until morning?"

"Sales pitches wait for no man," the taller SOLDIER announces and crouches to get to Cait Sith's eye level. "There's this plot of land we got where we're going to build a few houses –"

"A few houses?" the shorter SOLDIER demands. "The damn things are multiplying now – "

"– And we need to get some abandoned ShinRa construction machinery working," the taller SOLDIER continues, ignoring him with a cheeky grin. "There are some trucks and tractors and bulldozers and stuff, a few power suits – and we're on the market for an engineer to get them working. And I think you fit the bill."

Cait Sith hems and haws some more. "I'm just a wee cat – how'd you figure that out?" he asks, curious.

The tall SOLDIER grins, and Reeve gets a good look at his eyes. There's no Mako glow to them. "I got my ways," the not-SOLDIER in SOLDIER uniform says. "So, what do you say? You don't have to decide right this moment, I'm not putting you on the spot, but maybe you'd like to check it out, see how you like it? You never know, there might be a little cat house in it for you.. "

The shorter – only? – SOLDIER sighs. "Damnit, Desmond…"

"Well," Cait Sith says. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take a look. No promises though. Are we going right now?"

"Absolutely not," the SOLDIER says sharply.

"Yeah, no, it's getting late. We should head back," the not-SOLDIER, Desmond, says and stands up with a stretch. "You wanna come with, Cait Sith? Can't promise you hospitality, it's not our house, but the area is pretty nice and there are no monsters. Be a lot safer than here…"

Rubbing at his eyes, Reeve tries to make sense of it. It didn't sound like they were bringing Cait Sith in, doesn't look like it either. Do they know about Reeve's connection to the cat? He can't tell. Also he's pretty sure the tall man, Desmond, is the one who killed Hojo, and yet he's… not a SOLDIER?

Too tired to try to make sense of it, Reeve skips ahead again, to find that they're still moving, making their way through the slums, chatting idly about their building plans.

Reeve ends up falling asleep before they make it to wherever they're going.

He wakes up to his PHS complaining about low battery and to the glowing image of a field of flowers, burning itself into his retinas. It makes no sense for a moment, and Reeve just squints at it dully – until he notices the little Cait Sith icon in the corner of the screen, and even then it doesn't make much sense. 

It takes a moment for his brain to catch up, and then, a little confusedly, he brings up a command console.

Cait Sith perks up a like. "Well, hello to you too, Reeve, I was starting to get worried you'd kicked the bucket."

"Not quite yet," Reeve sighs. "Where are you – what are you looking at?"

"A lovely field of flowers," Cait Sith answers and hops down from whatever he was sitting on in order to look around. It's more than a field – there's a pond, a stream, a house… all covered in more greenery than he's seen in months. There's even a vegetable garden.

"Did you leave Midgar during the night?" Reeve asks, confused.

"Nope, still smack in the middle of it," Cait Sith says and looks up – there's the underside of the Plate. "Sector 5 Slums. Figure I'm at the Ancient's house."

Reeve sits up so fast he almost gives himself whiplash, the covers flying off him. Then, recalling his situation, Reeve takes a split of a second to worry about the security and the potential bugs, before quickly wrapping himself up in his duvet, pulling it over his head before turning back to the PHS.

Cait Sith is staring at the house, with vines growing all over it.

"Incredible," Reeve murmurs. Professor Hojo and the Turks had controlled all the information about her, so he'd never gotten a good look at her or her surroundings, but… "She really makes the plants grow, even in Midgar..."

Was it by proximity alone or did she have some sort of special ability? Did it take time, was the effect dependent on prolonged exposure, did she have to consciously work at it or was it permanent? How large an area could she influence?

Could she, if given a chance, rejuvenate the entire city? The region?

Reeve thinks to the statistics, the steady decline of the flora around Midgar, the by now nearly 50 kilometer zone of dry desert where lush forest once existed – to the old photos of how full of life the place had been when the very first reactor had been built, and how people had for so long ignored the side effects, because studies had shown, time and time again, that Mako energy was clean and didn't pollute… all the while draining all life from the planet underneath them.

All life – except wherever the Ancient resided, it seems.

"This changes everything," Reeve whispers to himself, as his brain skips ahead a step or two – past the faint hope that ceasing Mako production now might stop the planet's decline and to an actual restoration. If the Ancient can bring life to a place drained from it, then – then…!

Oh, why hadn't he tried harder to get access to the Ancient data – why hadn't Hojo let them know about her effect? So much stress and hardship could've been avoided if only Reeve had access to her and could actually formulate a plan to replenish…

Cait Sith looks down as the door to the house opens and the Ancient herself steps out, stretching her arms up. "Mmh! We'll water the plants and then go," she says while Reeve tries to make sense of what he's seeing. She's dressed in a SOLDIER uniform. And so is the man following her out.

It's not the short SOLDIER from the night before – but it's definitely an actual SOLDIER. Worse yet, it's a SOLDIER Reeve recognizes and knows by name – because even if they only held the rank for a few months, SOLDIERs First Class all made an impact. Especially since this one died with Sephiroth.

Zack Fair, back from the dead, scratches the back of his head and then says, "Right, I'll get the watering cans."

"Thanks, babe," the Ancient says cheerfully, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before picking up a wicker basket and hanging it on her arm.

Behind them, the short SOLDIER from the night before also steps out, his body tilted strangely, as though he's holding something heavy in one hand. It isn't until Cait Sith looks down that Reeve sees it's not exactly something heavy – just something fragile. He's holding the hand of a grey-haired toddler that's stumbling over the doorstep on wobbly feet, only held up by the SOLDIER holding his hand.

"Here, let me," the tall figure behind the pair says and Desmond steps out as well, taking the child's other hand, and together they help the stumbling child over the step. "There you go – well done, Seph! Wanna go check out the fish now?"

Reeve lifts his head slowly, the duvet slipping down as he zooms in on the child. Is it the same one he'd spotted on the camera feed when Professor Hojo was killed? It must be. Reeve hadn't gotten a good look then, but now, with the child looking ahead, eyes shining in the sun...

… the toddler is the spitting image of Sephiroth.

Two SOLDIERs – one of whom is a First Class previously thought dead – a man who killed Professor Hojo, an Ancient, and child that looks like Sephiroth… and then there was the monster that killed the late President too, which had been disguised as Sephiroth… it's like puzzle pieces coming together. The only thing that makes no sense is the fact that they're there, in the slums, and not above the Plate running the coup, but…

Looks like the whole thing was more personal than he'd realised.

Then the Ancient spots Cait Sith and bids him cheerfully, "Good morning, Cait Sith, good morning, Reeve! Do you want to pick some flowers with me?"

And that's, of course, when Reeve's PHS battery finally runs out.

Chapter Text

Leaning back with his arms folded, Zack tilts his head. Desmond and the cat are clambering all over one of the many bulldozers scattered around the construction site, the cat popping open the hood and both of them peering inside.

"You know," Zack comments to Cloud, who's sitting beside him. "Occasionally I'm stricken with this feeling like… this gotta be a dream. Like maybe I'm back in Nibelheim and having a fever dream, and I've imagined all of this up."

Cloud gives him a look over Seph's head, while the kid clambers over him, standing on Cloud's thighs and holding his head for support. "We attacked the ShinRa Building and fought Jenova and caused an accidental military coup… and this is what trips you?"

"Yeah – it's weird. It's so normal, you know?" Zack says, shaking his head. "And yet, not? I mean, construction machinery. Of all the things we could be doing, of all the places we could've ended up in… we're here. It's just wild. Did you think we'd end up here?"

Cloud winces as Seph pulls at his bangs and kicks him in the stomach, trying to climb to his shoulders. "Kid, seriously, stop kicking me. What are you even doing?"

"Uh, uhp!" Seph says, kicking him again – no, trying to climb him again.

"I think he wants up," Zack grins.

Cloud makes a face before bodily picking the kid up, turning him around while the kid makes an ooph sound – and then Cloud deposits Seph onto his shoulders, to sit on the back of his neck… before quickly grabbing the kid's hands as Seph wobbles a little and almost falls backwards.

"Mh!" Seph announces, half annoyed and half satisfied, and thumps his foot against Cloud's chest.

"Kid, I swear…" Cloud mutters and then throws a glare at Zack, who can't help but grin wider. "Shut up."

"I didn't even say anything!" Zack says innocently. "But seriously, you are –"

"Zack, I mean it, shut up."

So what, they're just going to ignore the mini Sephiroth in their midst, using Cloud as his climbing frame? Apparently so, Zack thinks amusedly as Cloud stares straight ahead, trying to act cool despite the little hands in his hair, making it a worse mess than usual.

"It's just – funny," Zack says, chuckling. Because it is, on so many levels. And kinda sad too, considering the history. Whichever version Seph remembers of it, if any. "You're Seph's Dad," Zack says, shaking his head. "Doesn't that just blow your mind?"

Cloud looks vaguely constipated at the thought of that. "I'm not – that's. Desmond is. That."

Oh boy, Zack thinks, leaning back a little and looking up ahead to where Desmond is pulling something out of the bulldozer for Cait Sith to inspect. "Yeah, no. Desmond's more a Pops. Or a Da. Or maybe a Daddy?"

Cloud's eyes widen. "No," he says, choked.

Zack grins. "You're the Dad, either way," he says. "You got the dad energy down pat already, it's hilarious."

"I'm not even doing anything."

Zack gives him a look. Sitting there, letting his kid pull at his hair and everything... "Sure you aren't, Cloudy," he says with a snort. "And hey, it's not a bad thing. Or a bad look."

Cloud makes a face, distractedly trying to pry Seph's fingers from his hair. "No," he then says. "No, I didn't think we'd end up here."

Zack laughs, shaking his head. "Yeah. Damn, our lives are weird, huh?"

Aerith is coming back now with Billy, carrying in her arms a load of papers – building plans the old man had drafted for them. "Hey guys, a quick question," she says. "Can you use your sword skills to cut steel beams?"

"Depends on the beam," Zack says. "What's up?"

"To make the building more structurally sound, we're going to have to have some support here and there," Billy explains. "There's plenty of metal and a bunch of good beams just sitting around here, but we don't have any way to cut them to size."

Zack hums. "Braver ought to do it," he comments, glancing at Cloud. "What do you think?"

"Never hurts to try," Cloud says and, gripping Seph's elbows gently to keep the kid stable, stands up. "Where are the beams?"

Zack ends up doing most of the work there, since Cloud has a kid to mind, but it's not a big deal. Cutting stuff with sword skills is not the best way of cutting stuff, getting the cuts straight takes some practice and some of the beams end up bent, but, hell, it's cheaper and easier than trying to find the right machinery to do it.

Carrying the stuff back is a bit of a hassle though – even with SOLDIER strength, a steel beam is heavy.

"Bad news, this one is a bust too," Desmond informs them when they return to the bulldozer. "But we think we might be able to use parts from this to the one near the concrete piles and get it working."

"And will have extra spare parts to use," Cait Sith agrees, patting the bulldozer's hood before hopping down. "Gonna need a cart or something to get the parts back, though. They're a bit heavy."

"How heavy are we talking?" Cloud asks, depositing Seph in Desmond's awaiting arms. "Maybe I could carry them."

And so begins the operation of first getting some equipment running, then clearing a space for their building operations all the while gathering miscellaneous materials and then, maybe, one day, they'll get to the actual building. Their biggest hurdle is getting a vehicle strong enough to drive even one of the Big Hands around so that the builders could actually do useful stuff with them, because moving the things around right now is a bit of a bother.

"I should be able to get some workers together later today," Billy muses, as they investigate the area around the shipping crate office they're intending to expand. "We'll start small, get them some hands-on experience with the little stuff."

"Sounds good," Desmond says. "Now, assuming we can get those power suits working, what kind of tools are we doing to need?"

Zack's PHS dings with an incoming message – Kunsel, asking if it was a good time to call. Zack answers by stepping away from the others and making the call himself. "Hey, Kunsel. What's up?"

"Have you seen the news?"

"No, sorry, we've been working. Why, we miss something?"

"Oh yeah," Kunsel says. "There's a ghost tornado heading for Midgar, and I'm pretty sure Rufus Shinra's helicopter is right in the middle of it."

They head back to town, delivering Billy safely home, to find a crowd of people clustered around in the central square. The news, it seems, had already spread – so much so that it was in the actual news, even.

"... Though the atmosphere in Junon is chaotic to say the least, only minimal damage to the city has been reported," the newscaster up on the screen says. "Though it has been speculated that the Ghost Tornado might be related to the previous evening's spectral fiend attack in the upper levels of Junon, no proper link between the two events has been confirmed. What is known is that the Ghost Tornado swept away several pedestrians and vehicles, most notably an official ShinRa company helicopter, as it was attempting to take flight… according to our latest information, the Ghost Tornado headed northwest – towards Midgar..."

There are gasps and murmurs from the crowd around them, as Zack, Aerith, Cloud and Desmond all stare up at the big screen hanging over the central square. It's showing an image of the Ghost Tornado, a mass of grey that had apparently come out of nowhere and almost covered the entire to half of Junon, caused some minimal havoc... and stole Rufus Shinra's helicopter right off the landing pad.

Zack's been to Junon, more than once. It's not a small city – and for a moment, the Tornado looked like it swallowed it whole. "Damn…"

"There are… Ghost Tornados now," Desmond says flatly, Seph in his arms and Cait Sith sitting on his shoulder, also staring up at the screen.

"It's the Whispers," Aerith says.

"Yeah, no, I got that. I just. Ghost Tornados?"

Zack folds his arms, frowning up at the screen. "They're bringing them here to try to get things back on track, right?" he asks. "To get the Turks to drop the Plate."

"What d' you say?" Cait Sith asks, alarmed, almost falling off Desmond's shoulder. 

"Yep," Aerith agrees, sighing and shaking her head. "Poor silly beans. We should probably head to Sector 7 before they get here and stop them."

"Are we sure it's going to be Sector 7 again?" Cloud asks, frowning.

"That's the Plate that fell, so that's the one they will think needs to fall," Aerith shrugs. "They'll head right for it, I promise."

"Wait, wait, wait –" Cait Sith says. "Hang on just a tick, missy – what do you mean, the Plate fell? The Plate hasn't fallen."

"In the future we're trying to prevent, I mean."

"In the what?!"

"Right," Cloud says, shaking his head, and turns to look at Zack. "Can I borrow your PHS?"

Zack blinks, looking away from the cat's flailing. "You don't have one?"

"No, funnily enough, haven't gotten the time to get one," Cloud sighs. "It's been a bit busy."

"You should've said – I got two," Desmond says, setting Cait Sith down and shifting Seph to one arm before taking a PHS from his pocket and handing it over. "Granted, this one is Corneo's, but it's not like he's going to need it back."

Cloud makes a face at him, but accepts the PHS. "Thanks," he muttered and quickly punches in a number and waits. "Hey Marlene – is Tifa or Barret there? Can you get one of them?"

While Cloud warns his Avalanche buddies and Cait Sith flails some more on the ground, Zack checks his gear out if habit and then looks at Aerith. "Any chance we have the time to do any shopping beforehand? I'd like to get some potions."

"I don't know – how long does it usually take for a helicopter from Junon to reach Midgar?"

"Eight hours, maybe?"

Aerith nods. "Then that's how long we got," she explains. "The Whispers might be able to force the helicopter to go in a certain direction, but they can't make it go any faster, I don't think."

"Good to know," Zack says, blowing out a relieved breath. "Got time to grab lunch too, then, and maybe some weapons. Sweet. Who's up for shopping?"

"Now hang on just a minute," Cait Sith says. "The Whispers?"

"Ooh, shopping, I'd love to do a bit of shopping," Desmond says, grinning. "Been wanting to check out the local shops a bit more closely anyway. Maybe get some armour."

"Oh, come on!" Cait Sith says, stomping his foot in frustration. "What are the Whispers?"

Aerith laughs and begins to explain, "They're part of the Planet's defences against time travel…" which honestly doesn't seem to help the cat much. Poor guy.

Cloud finishes his call and hands the PHS back to Desmond. "We're not bringing Seph," he says firmly. "Aerith, do you think Elmyra would mind watching him for us?"

"I'm sure Mom would love to watch him," Aerith says, smiling, and Zack grins.

Yeah, Cloud's definitely got that dad energy already.

They do their shopping, Zack replenishing his potion stores with Cloud, getting a few Materia too, just in case. Desmond makes friends with the shopkeepers, chatting them up about finances like nothing's going on, while Aerith gets them monster burgers from a nearby fast food joint. Then they head to Elmyra's place to drop Seph off.

The kid is not happy to be left behind – but what's the worst about it is that he doesn't scream or cry or even reach for Cloud to demand to be brought with.

He just sits there and looks betrayed.

"Well, now I feel like the scum of the earth," Desmond sighs. "Seph, baby, it's going to be dangerous – you'll be safe here."

Seph just stares at him, empty-eyed and let down.

Cloud sighs. "Kid, you're killing me," he says and crouches down. "We're not bringing you into a battle, there is no way. You'll stay here, you'll stay safe, and we'll be back before you know it."

Again with the empty eyes. Even Zack feels terrible about it, with the kid looking like that. Desmond is all but squirming under the stare, and even Cloud's wavering – and even cuddling doesn't make the kid feel any better.

But they gotta go, there's no way around it 

"I'll try to keep him occupied," Elmyra promises with a sympathetic smile, putting a hand on Seph's shoulder. "He'll get over it once you return. Be careful, all of you."

Desmond looks frankly depressed as they head out, and Cloud looks a little like a thundercloud. Aerith pats their shoulders comfortingly.

"With any luck, we will be able to finally deal with the Whispers once and for all, and that will be it," she says. "After that, it's just the Reactors and ShinRa we have to deal with! Then you can settle down and be a normal family."

Not quite the right thing to say, going by how red Cloud immediately goes. Beside him, Desmond just sighs. "You had to jinx it, huh?"

And just like so, they're off to save Midgar. Again.

People of Sector 7 aren't too happy, either. Having to evacuate again, so soon after the previous time, which ended up being a false alarm… they still do it, maybe, but yeah, they don't do it happily.

"Better false alarms than a dead sector," Barret announces, while Avalanche joins them at the base of the main support pillar. "How much time have we got?"

"Not sure," Zack admits, checking his phone. Kunsel had been trying to track the Ghost Tornado, but they'd lost it over the mountains. The Whispers, apparently, didn't much care for safe flight practices and were just making a beeline for Midgar. "Anytime from now to three hours from now."

"Let's secure the damn pillar then!"

Red approaches them while the Avalanche moves in on the pillar. "Hello again," he says, glancing at Cait Sith and then at Desmond and Cloud. "Where is Seph?"

"Safe in Sector 5," Desmond says. "Hey Red, how is it going? Did you get in touch with your folks?"

"I did indeed. They are well and relieved to hear from me," Red says and flicks an ear. "And yourself?"

"Been building, it's been great," Desmond says and then gives him a look. "Hey, actually, if you're thinking of staying in Midgar for longer, there could be a place –"

"Not now, Desmond," Cloud says. "Let's try to save the Plate first, you can recruit later."

"Recruit?" Red asks interestedly.

"Not now," Cloudy says firmly and gives Desmond a push towards the pillar. "Let's go."

Zack shares a grin with Aerith and waves in greeting to Tifa and they begin heading up, making plans at the go.

"Structurally, the top is the weakest part," Cait Sith says. "Where the support pillar connects to the Plate above – there's a mechanism that can be disengaged, which will remove and void the effect of the whole pillar. But," he continues grimly, "a well-aimed explosion anywhere along the pillar would irreversibly damage the structural integrity and probably cause the pillar to collapse."

"Well, that's fucking cheerful," Barret grumbles. "Also what the fuck?"

"This is Cait Sith," Aerith introduces. "He's Reeve Tuesti's spy, but that's alright – he's on our side."

Zack blinks, and it's a relief to see that this is news to not only him, but everyone else too. "Um, what? Aerith?"

"It's fine," she assures.

"No, I think it's actually not fine," Desmond says slowly. "This is stuff we should probably talk about – why didn't you tell us?"

Aerith tilts her head a little. "I thought you knew? You're the one who brought him to the house."

"Um," Desmond answers. "We did, but…"

Cloud shares a look with Zack and then picks up the cat by his ruff and holds him up. "Guess that explains why he's important. A spy, huh?"

"Meep," Cait Sith answers, awkward, and holds his paws up. "I'm just a wee cat, you wouldn't hurt a wee cat, would you?"

"I really would."

"No, no, it's fine – Reeve is one of the good ones," Aerith says, taking Cait Sith from Cloud and into her arms. "I mean, sure, there was the spying and all, but it's fine – is not the same here. Reeve is going to help us – isn't he, Cait Sith?"

Cait Sith looks at her, at the rest of them and then back at her. "Yes, yes, of course," he says. "As much as he can. Reeve doesn't want Midgar to be hurt either, promise! And neither do I, for that matter."

"Great!" Aerith says cheerfully.

"Fuck it," Barret sighs. "So, the fuck do we need to do to make sure no ShinRa bastards can break the pillar?"

With Cait Sith's – and apparently Reeve Tuesti's – guidance, they set up watches along the pillar, Barret and the Avalanche taking the lower levels while the rest of them head up to the very top. They're not alone, it turns out.

There's a group of SOLDIERs and infantrymen waiting for them – led by a familiar face.

"SOLDIER Second Class, Luxiere," the man introduces himself to Zack with an actual salute. "Kunsel sent us to give you backup."

"Fuck, man," Zack says and grabs the guy's arm for a quick shake. "It's good to see you – SOLDIER Second? Congrats!"

"As much as it is something to be celebrated," Luxiere says. "Zack. We all thought you were dead."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Zack grins. "We'll catch up later, alright? What's the situation – any word on the, uh, the Ghost Tornado?"

"Yeah, it was just spotted coming down from the mountains – estimated time of arrival is thirty minutes. As far as we know, the helicopter is still inside it."

Zack hesitates, casting him a thoughtful look. "And what's your order about that?" he asks. "Do we know who's inside, exactly?"

"The former Vice President and at least two individuals from the Turks," Luxiere says and hesitates. "The Director implied that they might be after the pillar – our orders are to stop them and take them into custody."

Good old Kunsel, rolling with the punches. "That's good," Zack says.

"What I don't get is why?" Luxiere says, quieter. "Why here, why the pillar – and what the hell do the ghosts have to do with it?" 

"It's a long story, man," Zack says, shaking his head with a rueful laugh and clapping him on the shoulder. "It's some fantastic nonsense. But this is where it will be – it'll be trying to drop the Sector Plate. And we're going to stop it."

"Yes sir," Luxiere says and turns to the rest of the SOLDIERs and the infantrymen. "Attention! Everyone listen up – this is Zack Fair, SOLDIER First Class. He'll be taking over command for this operation."

Fuck, okay. Not what Zack had been expecting, but he can roll with it. "At ease," he says. "Set up a perimeter around the pillar, with adequate cover – stay away from the edges, we don't know how chaotic this will be and we don't want anyone falling over the edge by accident. Cait Sith – what do we need to do to make sure the Plate separation can't be used?"

"Reeve is working on it – as soon as he has it, I'll input it in and the console here will be inoperable," Cait Sith assures. "After that, the biggest threat will be explosives."

"Let's make sure they can't get any through, then," Zack says, and while Aerith, Desmond and Cloud watch from the side, fascinated, he turns to the SOLDIERs and troopers. "Right – who here has Barrier Materia? And how about Magnify? Great, let's do some re-equipping."

Within the next ten minutes, he arranges the SOLDIERs and the infantrymen into protective formation, with the guys with Barrier in the back to keep protective spells up on everyone else. Aerith pitches in too with the biggest arcane ward she can muster, which will probably go a long way. 

"I want you with the SOLDIERs in front, if that's okay," Zack says to Cloud. "That's where I'll be too."

"Sure," Cloud agrees, keeping a wary eye on Cait Sith, now working on the pillar's control console. "So we're just going to fight our way through this, huh?"

"Yep, like good old times!"

Desmond looks between them, arms folded and head tilted. "I'm feeling downright useless here," he comments.

"Don't be, we're probably going to need those summons of yours," Zack says. "That thing you did in the slums, when you disappeared those Whispers – can you do it again?"

Desmond hums. "Maybe," he says and glances at Aerith. "Not that I know what that did, exactly, but I can definitely try it."

Aerith hugs herself, thinking about it. "Last time we fought the Arbiter of Fate, it broke reality for a bit," she admits. "Cloud ended up changing the history of another timeline – this timeline. It… would probably be better if we didn't do that. Even if the results here we're lovely."

Zack arches a brow. "What did Cloud change?" he asks curiously.

"You, silly," she says with a fond, sad smile, and kisses his cheek. "He saved you."

Cloud clears his throat and looks away, awkward, and Zack scratches the back of his head. "Well, that's… that's awesome. But yeah, let's try avoiding the creation of another timeline."

"Yeah."

"Incoming!" Someone shouts across the platform, and they all turn to look just as Midgar is suddenly plunged into shadow. Then it happens.

In the gap in the Plate where the Sector 6 Plate is still unfinished and sky shows through, the Ghost Tornado hits the ground. Zack has seen tornadoes before, Gongaga gets them every year, but this… this is something else. It's enormous and eerily, unnaturally quiet. A great dark mass, bigger than the central pillar of Midgar. Where he might have expected it to whirl madly like a normal tornado, it doesn't. It's slow, almost calm, and it kicks up no wind or dust. It's just… there. 

It feels like every hair on Zack's body stands on end as a full body shiver runs through him at the sheer unnaturalness of the thing. The infantrymen shuffle nervously, and even the SOLDIERs look ill at ease. "Holy shit," someone murmurs, and for a moment everything is quiet.

Then the Ghost Tornado begins turning, begins moving – slowly coming towards them.

"Positions!" Zack snaps, rushing to the front with Cloud, while the Ghost Tornado splits, separating like some sort of beast opening its maw, revealing the prey trapped within. A battered helicopter with ShinRa logo emblazoned on the side.

Zack grabs the Buster Sword and rests the hilt against his forehead for a moment, breathing in slowly. It's almost ironic, he thinks, after all he's gone through… here he is, standing with SOLDIERs, protecting Midgar. The more things change…

With a measured breath, Zack lowers the sword. "Everyone ready? It's showtime."

Chapter Text

The Planet is hurting. And things that are in pain, they can do desperate things – unthinkable things – to stop being in pain. Aerith tries to keep this in mind, as the Whispers throw everything they have, visions, monsters, re-creations of past and future horrors and waves upon waves of enemies at them, trying in their final moments to stop them – to force them, to keep the timeline in check.

She thinks – the Whispers were probably created by the Cetra, by the Ancients. They don't… feel like Weapons do, they don't work like Weapons should. There's a certain horror to their existence that cuts underneath, and they make sense just enough to – to not make sense. It's almost like they can think, but not, at the same time. Like there's a logic, a reason to everything they do, but… it doesn't work. Like they got it wrong.

There would've been a time when the Ancient were pretty… pretty desperate. When the Calamity had come down from the sky and begun poisoning and killing and converting everything. How long would've that taken? Days, weeks, months, years? A meteor comes down from the sky, a calamity all on its own, and it's followed by a world-consuming plague – did they know what was coming, or did it creep up on them?

The Meteor that hit the Planet, that carried Jenova, that was an injury. Thousands of years, and it still hasn't healed, and maybe it never will. The Crater in the Northern Continent is still bleeding, in a way. That, Aerith thinks, was on purpose – that is how Jenova seeded worlds like theirs. Just cut right through and into the Lifestream and poison it inside out… only… only their world was different. Their world fought back.

The Ancients had fought too, to their very end. They pushed Jenova back, they contained her in the Crater – but what did that take? Their lives? Or something… something more than that? Who knows, maybe they, like Sephiroth of the future, had looked back instead and thought to circumvent their own destruction. Maybe they knew that their species was doomed along with Jenova, and they tried… to change things. They had magic, powers they could draw directly from the Planet beneath their feet, so… it might very well have been something they could do. Just go back in time and stop Jenova from ever hitting the Planet in the first place…

But timelines are… they're weird. They don't work like you'd think. Not with the Planet, anyway, because theirs is a living Lifestream, still changing. It doesn't want to be ordered like that. In Desmond's world, maybe it would've worked. Here…

That's what the Whispers are, Aerith thinks, that's where they came from. They're the Ancients who tried to change their past – only it went wrong, because of Fate, of Destiny – the organic nature of how time on the Planet works. They got all mixed up… trapped by their own good intentions. Well. Maybe.

There's no way to know for sure, now.

Aerith prays and heals and gives strength to everyone fighting, and the Whispers keep coming. Around them, Midgar is coming apart at the seams – not really, but it looks like that, it feels like that. Illusions, all of it, not very good illusions either, but it's so confusing.

"It's another wave!" Zack shouts somewhere, and there's a cacophony of blades and magic, as the SOLDIERs face against the spectres. A rattle of concentrated weapons fire and more lashing magic, as the spectres fall apart and reform, gleaming with powerful magic that seems to be just spilling from within them – the Primordial Magic of the Ancients, maybe, raw and chaotic.

Someone screams, and Aerith draws a breath and concentrates on a cure. No one's died yet, she doesn't think, it doesn't feel like they have. She isn't sure they can.

They're not quite in reality anymore – the space in between is spilling out, and it's all splitting apart, and through the cracks she can feel the universe, vast and void and full of energy, too much to contain. The cosmic magic, the aether, the – the nothingness of everything –

Her head is spinning, and she feels ancient and brand new, and too small and too big for her skin.

"Hang in there," someone says, Desmond, no, Nanaki. He's beside her, pushing against her, keeping her upright. "It's a lot, I know, but you need to concentrate –"

Aerith can remember how the Planet died. It was so slow, it took so long. Hundreds of years after the Meteor, and Geostigma and everything else – bit by bit, everything began to wither. The dead zones around Midgar and other reactors grew a little bigger, year by year, as the plants died. The Northern Continent got colder and colder, and summer stopped melting the snow – people fled, and eventually the entire continent turned into a glacier. People had fewer and fewer children. Animals went extinct. The Lifestream sputtered in the Planet's core, like candle flame going out.

"I'm so tired."

Cloud died by her little pond, or what was left of it in the ruins of Midgar. He was the only one living there by that time. Maybe the only person alive, period. That, Aerith thinks, that's what broke her. So long, he'd been the glimmer of light she'd seen through the rotting surface, and then – then he was gone, and he didn't even return to the Planet. He was so old by then, that there wasn't much of him left. Not enough to say goodbye to.

Aerith wanted to be gone too – just fade away and die with everything else. Everyone else was, even Nanaki had returned to the Planet. But something held her back, something…

It would be nice to be able to blame Sephiroth – but she can't tell now, which came first. Did Sephiroth return to a world without Cloud and went finally and completely mad out of loneliness… or did Aerith pull his frayed edges back together, because she did? The Planet was dying, and she was in pain.

Things in pain do desperate things to not be in pain.

Sephiroth was the one who turned back the clock, with the mingled power of bitterness, madness, Jenova and the power of the Ancients – though it doesn't really even matter anymore, which way it went. Sephiroth figured it out, and drove himself backwards, to save the Planet, to find Cloud, to get what he thought he wanted. Thing is… he didn't have the power to do it, not on his own. He needed the power of the Ancients to actually change the past.

And Aerith gave it to him. She didn't intend it to happen, she didn't think it was possible, but once the thought was there, once it was taking shape… Why not? Why not try to save the Planet? What is the worst thing that could happen?

Then the Whispers had risen, and it had gone… so much worse so fast. That second life, with that version of Sephiroth, with all that power, all that madness and next to nothing holding him back…

Well, at least when the Meteor actually hit, it was a quicker death. No less painful, but was quicker.

"Aerith, snap out of it!"

Desmond's hand on her shoulder is like metal, and it draws her out of the memories, to look at him. He looks like metal too – there are golden lines on his face, and his eyes gleam like sunlight. The Grey shining through.

"Why is it called Grey when it's gold?" Aerith asks, and her eyes widen as she remembers it – the split between realities, his and hers, and the sheer vastness of Desmond's world. Vastness and strangeness – a world where the Lifestream was Understood…

"What?" Desmond asks, and then shakes his head. "The name comes from the feeling, not the actual colour. Are you alright?"

She thinks she's glowing. There are particles floating around her. The Lifestream shining through, the way the Grey is shining through him. Around them, the world has been ripped to shreds, and everything is floating against the black and purple and shining backdrop of… nothing.

"Um," Aerith says, blinking and looking around them. "I don't know? What's going on?"

The SOLDIERs are still there, as are the infantrymen – they're fighting together with Zack and Cloud, beating back the hordes of Whispers still coming at them. Midgar floats above them, the Plate torn into millions and millions pieces. Through the dust cloud that is the city, the Universe is staring at them.

"I think the reality got ripped a bit," Desmond says, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair – each of his fingers is marked with a thin straight line of glowing gold, and his hand is covered in circuitry. "You said something like that happened before?"

"Oh, yeah," Aerith agrees, looking up. It's not real – she knows that in her bones. Somewhere, the Plate is alright and nothing has happened. But somewhere else, it's not alright, and the Meteor tore it into bits. Here, both realities overlap, real and not real.

"Schrödinger's apocalypse," Desmond mutters, and it almost makes sense. "Please tell me you know how to beat this thing?"

Aerith says nothing for a moment, feeling a tremendous wind blow through him – it feels like knowledge. She knows this. "I know this," she says. "No, I Know this. I Know this."

Desmond glances at her, his gleaming eyes cutting lines of light through the air. "You need a hand with that?"

Aerith thinks it over, watching as Zack sends some injured SOLDIERs back, as he and Cloud rush forward to cover them. Somewhere, she knows Nanaki is fighting too – he'd gone to help. Barret and Tifa are here too, swept along for the ride, because they always had been. Cait Sith, too….

"How do I turn Knowledge into Fact?" Aerith asks quietly.

"You write it down, you Calculate it," Desmond says and looks behind them.

There, an eternity away, is the Grey – it hovers over Desmond like a colossal tree with uncountable branches – the endless Possibilities that exist on his Earth. Aerith doesn't understand it the same way she Understands the Whispers – but Desmond does, and shows her the way, how it was ordered, how it was Seen and figured out and tamed.

"Fact is a Fact only for as long as it's confirmed by the Universe," Desmond says and looks up. "Even then, nothing is ever really set, not forever. The possibility of anything is never a hundred percent – but it's never zero, either. That's why Isu failed, in the end. Because they tried to order the Universe – and you can't. Because Nothing is True and Everything is Permitted."

Aerith hums in agreement. They couldn't re-order the Universe, but they managed to re-order their own world, and so turned their Lifestream into the Grey. Aerith can't reorder the Lifestream…

But she can reorder the Whispers.

"I think I got it now," Aerith says, swallowing.

"I'm right here if you need backup," Desmond says, hand on her shoulder, keeping her steady. "Have at it."

Aerith lifts a hand, and it's like a dream. She's not praying, for once. She's always been praying, begging the Planet for help, pleading and bargaining and soothing and trying to coax the help out of the one hurting… but this time it's not a prayer.

It's a command.

It was a magnificent fight, Aerith muses. Pity that no one would ever remember it.

Midgar is quiet above them, the slums still beneath them, basking in the faint green light of various mechanisms above. Everything is absolutely still, there isn't even a breath of wind in the air, not a speck of dust, nothing. The chaos that was roused up by the Ghost Tornado is gone like it never happened – because in a way, it didn't. Sector 7 slumbers in the quiet gentle night.

All there's left is a group of very confused SOLDIERs and infantrymen on the top of the support pillar, a couple of even more confused Turks and one highly irritated President Rufus Shinra. The helicopter is gone, which strikes Aerith as a bit funny – did it get reordered too, or did it vanish, or was it never there? She can't quite tell, but it's gone now, having abandoned its passengers, just like that.

"Phew," Aerith sighs, and it's like a switch is hit and suddenly the platform is all action.

"What the hell is going on?" someone shouts, and "Stand down," and, "Who is in charge here?" and loudest of all, "Vice President Shinra, you're under arrest!"

Aerith leans back, watching with wide eyes as the SOLDIERs and infantrymen scramble forward to take control of the situation. There's a scuffle as Reno jumps forward and tries to defend his master, one of the SOLDIERs even gets thrown back, but it's one against more than twenty, and Reno doesn't stand much of a chance. Rude jumps in too, of course, and for a moment it's all one big disorganised brawl on top of the pillar, with Rufus trying in vain to assume command, actually shouting, "Do you know who I am?!", and then the Turks are beaten down. 

It's kind of impressive, how quickly they go from completely baffled down to business, as military training and orders take over, and the momentary confusion is just shunted aside in favour of discipline. Even Zack's on it, shrugging off the bewilderment like it was nothing.

Desmond steps up beside Aerith, scratching his scalp idly as they watch the mess unfold. "So, uh. That – didn't happen, huh?"

Aerith rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet and then clasps her hands behind her back in a stretch. "No, I don't think it did. Or it did, but… not at the same time."

"Hm," Desmond answers. "And nobody else here...?"

Aerith hesitates, looking away and to Red, who's cautiously backing away from the military to join them. Cait Sith is following soon after, sidling up to them. "Hey guys," Aerith says. "Everything alright?"

"I – am uncertain," Red answers, uncertainly. "I think there was an… illusion, perhaps?"

"Some illusion," Cait Sith answers, shaking his head. "Where did Rufus come from?"

"Who knows," Aerith glances at Desmond. "Nobody else, I think," she concludes.

"Convenient," Desmond says and claps her gently on the shoulder. "Well done. 'scuse me," he adds, and then without further word jogs ahead – towards Cloud, who is rubbing at his forehead and scowling furiously at nothing. Desmond draws Cloud's attention, and then the man himself away from the main throng of people, gently pulling him to the side. And Cloud goes, relieved, even eager.

"Miss?" Red asks quietly, peering up at her. "What happened?"

"Things changed," Aerith answers and smiles as she spots Zack, craning his head to look over the rest of the crowd. "For better or for worse, who knows. But they definitely changed," she muses and waves a hand at him. He waves back, frowning but relieved, and then turns back to deal with the whole arrest thing.

It's hard to tell what they think happened, if anything. The Turks are secured and searched, the Vice President is set aside under a respectful, if very wary, guard. Calls are made, Zack giving out some orders, too far for Aerith to hear, before happily relinquishing the command back to his SOLDIER buddy, now that the whole thing is over. Honestly, they all look pretty relieved to get it all over with - and, probably, to shunt the whole thing up the chain of command, and to leave it for their higher ups to deal with. Some things never change.

"We'll take it from here," Zack's SOLDIER buddy says, saluting Zack for the last time, and then begins wrangling the furious former Vice President towards a helicopter – this one sent in by Kunsel. Bit by bit, the SOLDIERs and infantrymen begin heading out.

"Well, that was weird as heck," Zack comments, finally coming to her. "Is everyone alright??"

"Yep but nope," Cait Sith answers, folding his paws. "But sort of. I think we kicked ass."

"I don't know about that, but…" Red shakes his head. "It is… odd."

"Oh yeah, very odd," Aerith says and shrugs, bouncing up to hug Zack. "It's probably not that important, though – because we saved the Plate! Yay us."

"Hooray," Zack agrees, sounding mostly just baffled. It's an adorable look on him, and Aerith smacks a quick kiss on his cheek, just for the joy of doing it. Zack sighs and then smiles and hugs her – and laughs. "Did you see Rufus? The guy was so confused. Don't think he was expecting us."

Aerith grins. "No, I don't think he was. What do you think will happen to him?"

"No idea. Don't think Kunsel's going to be giving the city back to him, either way," Zack muses. "Especially not now that Rufus got caught trying to bring the Plate down. What the hell was the guy even thinking?"

"You know, I don't think he was," Aerith says, taking the smallest of moments to feel a little sorry for Rufus… but only a small moment. It wasn't like Rufus had ever, in any of the timelines, done anything to try and stop the Plate Fall… or much anything else that had gone down since. "Do you think that, with Rufus captured, ShinRa is finally over?"

"I don't know," Zack admits. "Maybe, but… ShinRa is pretty big, and Scarlet and Heidegger – and Palmer – are still out there. Guess we will see."

"Guess we will," Aerith muses and presses another kiss to his cheek before leaning her head against his chest and just breathing him in, content in a way she can't remember being in… a very, very long time.

Desmond and Cloud join them then, Desmond resting a hand not quite casually on Cloud's back as they walk. "Are we done here?" Cloud asks, just short of annoyed. "I wanna check up on Seph."

Aerith looks at them and grins. "I guess so," she says. "But we haven't even been gone that long, I'm sure he's fine."

"Psh," Cloud answers, scowling – the confusion clearly making him more irritable than usual. Not that it's easy to tell. "Let's just go."

Zack pats Aerith's shoulder gently and then pushes her back a little. "Um, so, do you know what just happened?" he asks, aiming the question at Cloud and Desmond while winding his hand around hers.

"No idea, but I'm done with it," Cloud says, shaking his head, and goes for the stairs. Desmond, flashing them a quick grin, jogs after him, catching up just at the stairs. Zack shakes his head with a sigh, and Aerith leans against his shoulder comfortingly as they turn to follow the pair. Behind them, Cait Sith and Nanaki exchange looks, and then Cait Sith shrugs fatalistically and heads after them. Nanaki, with the last glance at where the battle had taken place, follows after.

Ten minutes later, the confusion slowly passes – and then even the whisper of the Whispers is gone. 

Chapter Text

With Seph hanging onto his hand, little fingers clutching so tight that the kid's hand gotta be hurting, Cloud watches from the side as they begin lifting the first shipping containers. It is a little impressive, all things considered. Billy has gathered them some workers, Desmond has even invested in some tools and protective equipment, and with the Big Hands, with pulleys and levers and other stuff, they're finally starting to put together the rough shape of the house. The first house.

Desmond is right in the thick of it, of course, crouched on top of the Big Hand that is holding the last container, peering down and calling, "A little to the left, a little more – that's it, bring 'er down!" The noise that results in the crate being placed on top of the ones already there is becoming familiar – that loud hollow thunk of something big and metallic being put down.

It's… starting to look like a house. Sort of. There'd be cutting and reinforcement, and the insides of the newer crates would need to be redone for them to be more comfortable, and there is electrical wiring and stuff… but already Cloud can see the shape of it, the thing that Desmond is building for them. A house. Two floors, three bedrooms, kitchen, living room, two different work rooms… it's a whole damn thing.

Their house.

"It looks great, huh?" Aerith asks, coming to his side, while above them Desmond begins detaching the pulleys and people let out little whoops in celebration.

"Mhm," Cloud answers, swallowing. It almost feels like he's got an upset stomach or something, which is funny – he doesn't think his stomach can get upset anymore. "It's definitely something."

In the last few days, they'd marked down a good dozen of easily salvageable shipping containers, and that was just in the near vicinity. With the bulldozers and two trucks working, they're clearing the space to get them moving – as soon as they would be sure about the first house and could get into actually making it fit for living in, there'd be another house rising, right beside it… and probably more after that. According to the plans Billy and Desmond had made, they could easily fit six shipping container houses comfortably around this clearing – nine uncomfortably.

Aerith rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet, smiling at Zack, who's joining Desmond on top so that they can begin bolting the containers properly together. "What do you think about a flower garden on top there?" she asks. "You can stack these things six high, right? Two levels should be plenty strong to handle a flower garden."

"Yeah, sure," Cloud agrees, sighing. Desmond would be all for it, anyway. He's already planning a garden area for Aerith. With her influence, this whole place would be covered in plants in no time – already there's grass growing here and there, adding a little bit of green in the general mess of rusting grey and dead dirt.

"Sure?" Aerith asks, tilting her head. "Hm? Are you feeling sick, Cloud?"

"No," Cloud answers, frowning, while the other workers pass tools to Zack and Desmond and they get to work. Shaking his head, Cloud looks down to Seph, who is watching the construction silently, seriously.

"Hmm?" Aerith asks, trying to take a clearer look at his face. "Aren't you happy about your new house?"

No, he's fucking terrified. Or not exactly, that's not the right word. It just – didn't feel quite real until the thing started looking like a house. Now it is, and he can almost see how it will be, how it will look like inside. They were cutting corners with the construction site office for a base that would make wiring electrical and running pipes that much easier, but still.

It's a house. It's… a house he's going to be living in. Not just having a room in, either – it would be his house. His and Desmond's and Seph's – and Zack's and Aerith's too, until they got another one built.

Seph, feeling his stare, looks up quizzically, and Cloud is tempted to lift the kid to his arms to distract himself from the house – but Seph needs practice walking and standing, and he's already getting better. Shaking his head, Cloud looks back at the construction and blows out a breath.

A house – one that damn well can't be burned that easily, either, what with it being made of mostly metal.

"Cloud?" Aerith asks worriedly.

"It's nothing," Cloud says, shaking his head. "It's whatever. Flower garden sounds fine."

Aerith hums, concerned. "You know, I think they're almost done with this bit. Maybe Desmond could have a break."

"What?" Cloud asks, confused, but she's heading forward already, waving at the construction workers and then up at the top of the crates. In no time at all, Aerith's gotten Billy to use the Big Hand to lift herself up to join Zack and Desmond on top, and even at a distance Cloud can tell she's talking about him when she speaks to Desmond.

"Damn it," Cloud mutters, running a hand over his face, as Desmond passes the bolt gun to Aerith, and then vaults over the edge, dropping down along the side of the shipping containers and to the ground. While Desmond exchanges a few words with Billy and the other workers, and on the rooftop Zack begins showing Aerith how to work the thing, grinning as she tackles the task at hand.

Then Desmond comes to them, smiling. "Looking like something now, huh?" he asks, proudly.

"… yeah. How long until we move in?"

Desmond laughs, easy, and crouches down beside Seph to ruffle the kid's hair. "Depends on how hard we want to work on the insides, and how nice we want it to be before we move in. Days for a shoddy job, weeks for something nicer, months for state of the art construction."

Cloud blows out a breath. "And how nice do you want it, then?"

Desmond smiles, looking up at the house. "I'll take comfortable," he says. "Few weeks, maybe."

Maybe that would be enough for Cloud to get used to the idea. "Okay," he says and tries to feel a bit more confident about the whole thing. "What's next, then? Anything I can do?"

"Cutting, grinding, smoothing, a little bit of insulation and then dry-walling…" Desmond muses. "And electrical and piping and other stuff somewhere in between. We're going to have to get some tools first, though, so we're more or less done here for today. We could go see how they're coming along with the wall, maybe give a hand there? How about it, Seph, wanna go see how the guys are doing with the fence?"

"Mmm," the boy answers, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and holds out his arms to be picked up.

"Nah, buddy, you still need walking practice," Desmond says, smiling. "Gotta walk on your own – how about I hold your hand instead?" he offers, and takes the kid's hand into his. Then, with a wave to the workers, turns to lead Seph and Cloud away.

They've almost got the construction site secured against monsters. There are still piles of trash and random niches and hollows where things can still spawn, but they'll cut the monster attacks by four fifths by securing the way to the site  walling up the path. That's mostly being done with whatever can be found lying around – corrugated metal and broken pieces of chain link fence, bolted and tied together.

Desmond chats up the guys working on it – mostly teenagers from the Central District, who Billy's easing into the work and who Desmond is paying. It's a bit wild to think about, but in less than a week, Desmond has sort of become the biggest employer in the Sector 5 slums. And Cloud is pretty sure Desmond knows all his workers by name.

"It's starting to look so good, guys," he says to them enthusiastically. "I love the bit with the hubcaps – who came up with that one?"

A portion of the fence has a cluster of hubcaps in a pattern, someone intentionally trying to be artistic. Not too far from that, there's a piece of corrugated steel, which Cloud is pretty sure didn't have graffiti on it that morning – someone's attempt of sketching up a guy with a hard hat.

Seph tugs at his hand, pointing to it. "Yeah, I see it," Cloud says, and obediently lets the kid pull him towards the graffiti. He keeps Seph from actually touching the fence – not knowing how fresh it was, he doesn't want the kid to risk getting spray-paint on his hands. It also looks kinda rough, like something a little kid could easily cut their hands against.

Someone had also scribbled names on the fence, too – Biff and Mack were here, hastily scratched into the rusted metal.

"Ah, the signs of human life," Desmond says, joining them after making friendly with the teenagers. "That's great."

"Is it?" Cloud asks, while Seph lets go of his hand to crouch down on the ground, investigating something he'd spotted there.

Desmond gives him a look. "I think so," he says slowly. "Something eating you up?"

Cloud hesitates, crouching down beside Seph to see what the kid is looking at – he'd found a rusted up ring of keys with a ShinRa logo keychain. Proud, Seph displays his discovery to them, and Cloud smiles wryly. "Good job," he says. It looks filthy and useless, but if it hadn't been rusting up for a few years, it might've actually been useful for getting some of the machinery around here working without having to hotwire everything.

Desmond steps up beside them, not quite hovering. He grins, seeing Seph waving the keys. "That's awesome, buddy," he says, accepting the keys from the kid. "Wanna go see if any of these work on that truck over there?"

Seph looks at the truck – one of the many that were busted up too badly for anyone to use, it's missing its doors and its tires and would be a bitch to move. Determinedly the kid grabs the keys from Desmond and then begins stumbling towards it, only falling over a couple of times along the way. He can't quite climb the thing, it's too big, but he definitely tries his best.

"He's getting stronger, huh," Desmond muses while Cloud stands up, brushing his hands clean against his trousers. "Few more days and we won't be able to keep up with him."

"Yeah," Cloud muses, though he's not particularly worried. Seph is a bit too clingy still to get far. Eventually though, yeah… Fuck, but Cloud is not looking forward to a few years down the line. Or ten years down the line. Teenage Seph… the thought alone makes him shudder.

Desmond glances at him, pushing his hands into his pockets. "So…" he says, leadingly. "What's up?"

Cloud looks down, a little annoyed and embarrassed, because… fuck if he knows. "Nothing," he says, and at Desmond's disbelieving hum, he huffs out irritably. "Seriously – it's nothing. I don't know – I just feel fucking antsy. Dunno why."

"Hm," Desmond answers, noncommittal. "Antsy like you wanna fight something, or antsy like you wanna take a hike, or…?"

Sighing in frustration, Cloud shakes his head and then goes to follow Seph – and to lift the kid into the truck before he has a chance to fall over and bang his head or something. The kid eagerly clambers behind the wheel and begins trying to figure out where the keys might fit. His first bet: the cigarette lighter.

"It's fine to have second thoughts," Desmond comments, following them slowly.

"I don't," Cloud almost snaps, and then blows out a breath when Seph gives them a quick look. "I don't, I'm not. That's not it."

Desmond says nothing to that, leaning against the truck while Seph bangs the keys against the control panel. It's hard to say if the kid is having fun – or if he's trying to kill the keys. Cloud can feel Desmond's attention on him, even though the guy isn't looking at him – it makes him want to bang his head against the truck. Or maybe Desmond's.

"If you… wanna take a break, go see Tifa, have that drink you wanted, maybe, or something…" Desmond offers. "I can watch Seph."

Cloud sighs and closes his eyes, leaning his forehead to the truck's door frame. "No," he says. "Maybe. I don't know."

"It's fine either way," Desmond says.

It's not. It doesn't feel like it's fine. But maybe it would clear his head a bit – because if this keeps going he's going to end up throwing Desmond into a wall or something and demanding him to make all of this make some damn sense, except – fuck. Yeah. No. "Tonight okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Desmond says, easy as anything. "Just for the evening, or –?"

"Yeah, I'll be back by morning."

"Okay, that's cool," Desmond says, and apparently that's it.

Cloud's halfway through Sector 6 before he starts feeling like he'd really rather not go see Tifa. By that time Seph's already in bed, and Desmond would probably follow the kid soon after, and going back wouldn't really accomplish anything, so he keeps going, even though he feels a little less like going with every step along the way.

The festivities over ShinRa's misfortune have quieted down a bit in Sector 7, though there's still this air of vindictive enjoyment in the air. A lot more people out and about and drinking outside, too – a lot more people in Seventh Heaven than usual. Tifa looks busy, and even Barret's working, serving beer from behind the counter.

It's funny, but now that Cloud thinks about it, he has no idea how the bar actually works. Who owns it – Tifa or Barret? Or Avalanche? It's usually Tifa working there alone, but… Cloud's pretty sure she didn't build the hidden underground base. That was all Barret…

"Cloud! Hey there," Tifa greets him, stopping with a tray of glasses in hand. "Didn't think I'd see you in a while – aren't you guys busy building?"

"I'm taking the evening off," Cloud answers, and it comes out sounding thoroughly stupid.

"Oh?" Tifa asks and looks around. "Is Desmond here?"

"No, he's watching Seph back at Aerith's place."

"Hm," Tifa answers, noncommittal. "Well, try and find a seat, and I'll bring you a drink. What would you like?"

"Something that burns."

Tifa laughs, shaking her head as she goes, and with a sigh Cloud finds himself a seat, awkwardly setting his sword down to lean against the wall.

It's mostly normal people in the bar that evening – Barret and Tifa are the only Avalanche members, and Barret's busy behind the counter, talking to some people Cloud doesn't know. It's almost weird to see the place working as a normal bar and not as an ecoterrorist base – it looks like a business. And Barret looks like a normal guy doing his job, albeit a big one with a gun for an arm.

Wonder if Desmond's bar was anything like this…

"Here you are," Tifa says, bringing him a stout glass filled to the brim with something honey-coloured. "Set a match to it and you got a campfire, so, please, don't."

"Cheers," Cloud says, toasting the glass and taking a sip. It definitely burns going down, actually numbing his tongue a bit. Not many liquors that do that anymore.

Tifa eyes him and then sits down across from him, setting the tray she was carrying down. "At the risk of sounding like a cliché," she says, folding her arms on top of the table and giving him a worried look. "Is… everything alright at home, Cloud?"

Fuck, there it is. "Fine," Cloud says, setting the glass down. "Just needed a break."

"Uh-huh. Break from what? The building, the kid, or the husband?"

"Desmond isn't – no," Cloud says and sighs. "It's not that." Except maybe yes. Fuck.

Tifa arches her brows, tilting her head slightly to the side. "Not quite what you were planning for, huh?"

Yeah, definitely not. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. They finished piling the crates, getting everything where it needs to be for the building," he mutters, scowling at the glass. "There's still a bunch of work to do, but – it looks like a house."

"Oh," Tifa murmurs and looks down at the table. "Well… fuck."

"Yeah."

"Does it look like a nice house?"

"Bigger than Ma's house was," Cloud admits, rubbing a hand over his mouth and then shaking his head. "I don't know. With Desmond and Aerith there, it will probably end up looking amazing before long. They're already planning gardens and shit."

"That sounds great, honestly," Tifa says, smiling faintly. "I can't wait to see it. Any chance for a guest room?"

"Probably," Cloud mutters. "They're planning the thing all modular, so that if we want to expand one day, it will be pretty easy."

"That's awesome," Tifa says and looks at him. "It is – that's really great, Cloud."

Cloud shakes his head and takes another drink. It is, is the problem. It's fucking great. Too good to feel real, really – and in a way, it isn't. He's not doing much to contribute, aside from the heavy lifting and occasional metal cutting you can do with a sword. That's not nothing, he knows that – he and Zack are cutting days and huge expenses off by manually doing what would normally take several thousands of gil's worth of equipment to accomplish – but still…

None of this would've happened without Desmond. Desmond's the guy who's making all these possible. And Cloud is going to be living with the guy, one day soon, for literal years.

Tifa's looking at him like she gets it, and that just makes the whole thing worse. "You know," she says and looks away, at the bar. "When I came to Midgar, I was… homeless, penniless, I'd lost everything. I came here looking for you, actually, thinking you'd be working for ShinRa, that you'd… be able to help me."

"Shit, I didn't know that," Cloud says, wincing. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault – and from what I've heard, you had it worse," Tifa says, wincing and shaking her head. "A lot of terrible things might've happened to me here. I didn't know what I was getting into, I don't know if I was even thinking straight. I could've gone anywhere, Rocket Town, Cosmo Canyon, I could've stayed in Junon… but I came to Midgar, and I ended up here, in the slums. You know what might happen to pretty girls in these slums, when they're that lost, that desperate?"

Cloud shakes his head. "Nothing good."

"Nothing good," Tifa agrees. "I mean, I could fight my way through trouble, I'm not helpless. But I didn't have any money, and people don't hire pretty girls for their ability to fight. I was shit out of luck."

Not sure what to say to that, Cloud hums and takes another sip, trying to figure out what it is he's actually drinking.

"Then I ran into Barret," Tifa says, leaning her chin onto her palm and looking towards the counter, where Barret is now armwrestling with someone and winning. "You can imagine how that went, with the way he comes across. Little eighteen year old me and that," she motions to Barret and laughs. "He hired me to wait tables here during the busy hours, to clean and stuff. I was so nervous, especially when I realised that he was involved with Avalanche. For months I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Did it?" Cloud asks, frowning. Considering the sort of marshmallow Barret is on the inside, he doubts it.

"Kind of," Tifa admits and smiles. "I put it down myself, joined Avalanche, got involved. It still doesn't feel real, sometimes, but… it's better, when you take a more active role, you know. Make your own decisions."

Oh, that's where they're going. Shoulders slumping a little, Cloud eyes the glass. "I did make a decision," he mutters. "I'm involved."

"There's involved and then there's involved," Tifa says and leans back a little, still watching Barret. "There are decisions and then there are decisions."

Cloud glances at her, at the way her eyes narrow, gleaming with intent. "Oh, wow. You and Barret?" he asks, surprised.

Tifa smiles a little, secretive, and glances at him. "Not yet – but I think I'm gonna try, see how it goes. He hasn't really even noticed yet, but… guess we'll see," she says and looks around the bar with a sigh. "I love this place. And I love Marlene, and you know what… I think I'd be content, with just this."

Huh. Cloud lifts the glass, eyeing her. "Good for you."

"I wouldn't say no to a house though," Tifa says with a laugh. "As much as I love Marle and her place, I would like my own kitchen one of these days. A living room – maybe with a piano in the corner. It's been years since I played…" she trails away and sighs. "Your whole building thing is giving me some ideas."

"Right," Cloud answers. "I guess that's good. And hey, we're training a whole bunch of people in construction, so… there'd be workers, eventually, even skilled ones. I can put in a good word for you, maybe they'll give you a discount."

"That'd be great," Tifa grins at that and then tilts her head. "So," she says. "Do you think you will be content?"

Cloud looks back down at his glass, mulling it over. Then he drains the glass, feeling it burn all the way down. "I don't know," he admits. "I… it's like I'm waiting for something," he admits quietly. "Like something… hasn't clicked into place, yet."

The look Tifa gives him is arched, and then a little amused. "I think his name is Desmond," she says with a snort and stands up. "You want another drink?"

"… please," Cloud agrees with a sigh, and hands the glass over. Tifa heads away, humming and waving at the customers asking for refills. It looks like it will take her a while, so Cloud turns his eyes to the window, not quite thinking of anything. The alcohol isn't doing much for him, hard though it was, but it's settled into his gut as a comfortable feeling of heat, and it's making him feel… a little less stuck inside his own skin.

It really is Desmond, isn't it? Cloud can imagine the years in the house, he can imagine the years of watching Seph grow up – he can even imagine the sheer undulated terror that would be the kid's adolescence… but he can't figure out where Desmond fits. Or maybe he can, but…

Rubbing at his forehead, Cloud can just imagine Desmond urging him to say it, and he fucking can't. He can't even think about it. How pathetic is that? Even in the privacy of his own fucking mind, he can't do it. Probably a side effect of all the times his mind wasn't so private, huh?

Maybe he really should just pin Desmond to a wall and demand him to make sense of things. That'd straighten things right up, wouldn't it and, fuck, the guy would probably enjoy it.

Chapter Text

Desmond is still awake when Cloud comes back, and he doesn't bother to pretend it's for any other reason except that he is a little worried… though it is a nice night out, too. Quiet and calm, all things considered.

There are few bad nights in the slums, really. It never rains, it's never overcast – it's never not overcast, either. With a sky of steel, interspersed with little dots glowing green, it's like every night is a sort of starry night in a weird, technological way. Desmond still hasn't seen the actual stars this planet has, but he's getting used to the way the night sky under the plate looks like, and for all the horror those little green lights represent, it's… kind of pretty, in it's own way. Could do without the smell of exhaust fumes, and god, the slums really need some air circulation, but aside from that…

Could be worse.

He's getting used to it. Kind of learning to like it. Guess that's the Assassin in him, finding his niche and making himself at home there, building something in the shadows. Not that the house is in the shadows, thanks to the crack in the Plate 6, the construction site actually got a pretty decent amount of sunlight. Enough to grow stuff, easily. Enough to get stuff done…

And there's a lot of stuff to get done, isn't there, if he's ever going to build up a version of the Brotherhood here. If he even is. Is it necessary anymore…? With Jenova and Sephiroth dealt with and ShinRa on the cusp of a total transformation… the major threats are more or less dealt with. Just petty criminals and people taking advantage of a chaotic situation left. People like Don Corneo, who Desmond knows wasn't in any way unique. 

One of these days he really needs to go back to the Wall Market and take a closer look at the place, how it's run - who has the power now and what they do with it.

Cloud is not quiet when he comes back – but he never is. Not a stealthy bone in that body, just heavy stomping feet in heavy boots, with the occasional grind of metal against metal as the massive sword on his back brushes against his pauldrons. If the guy sees Desmond sitting there, on the porch, he doesn't react to it, making his way over at a steady pace. Even at a distance, he smells like booze.

"Don't tell me you were waiting for me," Cloud says, low.

"Sorry," Desmond offers. "I was."

"You have work in the morning."

"Yeah, but I'm kinda my own boss. No one is going to tell me off if I'm late," Desmond shrugs and leans back against the wall. "But if it makes you feel better, I could tell you were coming – I haven't been sitting here for hours." Just about half an hour now.

Cloud blows out a breath and stops there, just in front of the porch. It's creepily cool, the way his eyes glow in the dark. It doesn't show as much during day time, the glow isn't strong enough to compete with sunlight, but here, now… yeah. It makes it very obvious when Cloud narrows his eyes, when he looks away – emotions glowing like lamp lights. Still indecisive.

Tilting his head, Desmond wonders if he should ask. There's that tension around the guy's shoulders again, and Cloud tends to need a push to talk about these things. But at the same time… "It's a nice night," is all Desmond offers, in the end.

"… yeah, it is," Cloud agrees, shaking his head, staring at the pond in front of the house, frowning. There's a long silence, awkward and heavy at first – but the longer it goes on, the more it eases, as though the duration dilutes the tension a little. For a while, the only sounds are the quiet rippling of water and distant hum of machinery.

Cloud makes Desmond want to talk in a way few people ever had. There's this helplessly lost quality to the guy that makes you want to keep throwing him ropes, to help him muddle his way through the currents of social situations. For all that he's a quiet guy, Cloud never seems to be that comfortable with the quiet, and the longer silences go on when there are more people around, the more tense and on edge the guy tends to become. Expectations, maybe, the perceived social pressure of having to interact. It doesn't help that with his eyes being the way they are, Cloud tends to have a look to him like he's just about to cry all the time. He isn't, who knows if the guy even can, but, yeah…

Desmond wants to say something now, but refrains, sighing and closing his eyes instead. He used to be comfortable with silences, comfortable or awkward, it didn't matter.

He's never wanted to hear someone's thoughts as much as he wants to hear Cloud's.

The silence seems to last something like half an hour, before Cloud moves and Desmond opens his eyes to see him turning to the porch. Slowly, almost calculatedly, Cloud leans his elbows against the porch railing and looks at him. There is something searching in his eyes now – he's sizing Desmond up.

"Hm?" Desmond hums, quizzical, and makes himself not to ask. Damn, those eyes… like liquid light.

Cloud shifts his weight slightly, still awkward, but determined. "What do you want?"

Desmond tilts his head. "In… what sense?"

"In general. Future," Cloud says and motions around them. "What do you want from – from life?"

Hmm. "I don't know. Comfort and general happiness for me and mine?" Desmond offers and leans forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. "To build something lasting, I guess – to make things better."

Cloud looks away, and he doesn't look particularly satisfied with the answer. "Oh."

Okay… "What do you want from the future and life in general?" Desmond asks, wondering if by life in general Cloud actually meant himself.

There's a moment of silence and Cloud grimaces, shaking his head. "I don't know."

Well, that's… "Okay," Desmond says and then offers, "Not all people do. Some people never figure it out."

Cloud shakes his head at that, folding his arms on top of the porch railing and not saying anything for a long while. "Zack wants to be a mercenary. Aerith wants to start a garden. You want to build. I don't… want anything," he mutters, sounding almost bitter and mostly lost. "I've been trying to… figure it out."

"Figure out what's in store?" Desmond asks.

"Figure out what you –" Cloud stops there and shakes his head. "You're doing this building thing, you three, you're building a community. And I'm just standing there like a fucking idiot, not doing anything."

"Okay, that's not true," Desmond says, quietly. "You do plenty."

"Tch," Cloud answers. "Heavy lifting and babysitting. Great contribution."

"Okay, um – you want to do something else?" Desmond asks, a little lost. "Go back to working with Avalanche or whatever? It's fine if you do –"

"I know it's fine," Cloud snaps, frustrated and then sighs. "I know – I don't know if I want that either. Feels like I know fuck all about anything, anymore."

Desmond presses his lips together to stop himself from offering options – kinda seems unwelcome right now. "Okay," he says slowly, and shakes his head. "I get that it sucks. You have my sympathies."

Cloud runs a hand over his face. "I keep waiting for you to tell me what you want from me," he mutters. "Just tell me what you want and I'll figure out if I can do that, if I can be that."

Desmond leans back a little at that and then stands up with a stretch. "Well, that's definitely not what I want," he says. "You, conforming yourself around me, that's… not ideal."

"Oh, for fucks' sake," Cloud mutters, annoyed.

"I'm serious, it isn't," Desmond says and steps down from the porch, looking over the darkened flower fields. "I'm not that decisive either, you know. I'm just cheating," he admits and sighs. "I'm just doing what other people did before me, taking their example. Faking till I make it, or… not."

"But you do it well," Cloud says, looking at him side-eyed.

"Aww, thanks. Still," Desmond shrugs. "I'm just following a preset pattern in my own way, doing what my ancestors did. Beyond that, I dunno if I have it figured out any better than anyone else."

"Could've fooled me," Cloud mutters, turning slightly to face him. "You telling me that all this, the building, the management, Seph – none of that's you? Gimme a break."

Desmond grins. "All of that's me, but I'm but a sum of my parts," he says and shrugs. "And some of my parts are borrowed."

"… And I'm missing some key parts," Cloud mutters, scowling.

"That's… not what I was implying," Desmond sighs and shakes his head. "You know I had my own identity issues. One of them was a kind of loss of my own identity. Towards the end, my value as a person hung not really on who I was, but… whose memories I happened to be using at any given time. My worth rested almost solely on those ancestors I'm aping now. And… I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I wouldn't want you to conform yourself to me. That's a bad idea."

 Cloud folds his arms, leaning back against the porch railing and saying nothing for a moment. He's thinking, hard, and they don't look like particularly happy thoughts. "Fuck's sake," he then mutters. "What do you want then?"

"I… kinda just said, that's a bad – "

"Desmond," Cloud says, impatient.

Hesitating, Desmond looks away and then pushes his hands into his pockets, missing his hoodie all of a sudden. "I guess… I wouldn't mind getting to know you better," he says, wording it as carefully as he can. "I would like to help you figure it out. If something comes from that, I would want it to come naturally, not because… because you thought it was – " he stops and then sighs. Fuck it. "I mean, you're attractive as hell, so there's that, but I've gotten the impression that's probably not on the table, so… I'd settle for comfortable companionship? Cosy-platonic-co-parenting situation?"

Cloud is eyeing him incredulously.

Desmond clears his throat and looks away. "I kinda figured we were going that way anyway," he mutters. "I was kind of looking forward to it."

Cloud runs a hand over his face, muttering something into his palm, only half clear. "… fine with that?"

"What was that?" Desmond asks carefully.

"And you're fine with just that?" Cloud asks, looking at him through his fingers.

Desmond shrugs. "Why not?" he asks. "It's been working for us so far, hasn't it?" Though considering Cloud's hang-ups right now, maybe it hasn't…

Cloud shakes his head, confused now. "But – you said you find me –" he stops, and blushes.

"I mean. Yeah," Desmond says plainly, looking away awkwardly. "Cards on the table – you're kind of out of this world hot, and I like you. And we got a kid together, and that's –" he stops and shifts his weight. "You know. But it's whatever."

Going by Cloud's expression, it's not whatever. "But – why haven't you –"

"What, made a move? Because you don't seem particularly receptive, and I'm trying not to be an asshole," Desmond shrugs. "It's not the end all be all of relationships – wouldn't want to mess up what we already have, you know."

Cloud looks away sharply. "Don't think it would work, huh?"

Desmond blinks at that and then casts him a glance. "Um." Cloud's hands are squeezed into fists, and his neck is red. Okay… "I mean… I didn't think you'd be… um…?"

Sure, there had been times when… Cloud had seemed a little receptive, sure. But those times had been kind of drowned by the many more times when he seemed flat out confused and lost – and when the very idea of trying to go for it kind of felt like taking advantage. Cloud wasn't as uneasy with touching as in the beginning, but he didn't seem comfortable with it. There were a lot of things Cloud didn't seem comfortable with.

But maybe… maybe he'd gotten it wrong…?

"Uh," Desmond says, feeling like his head is full of mud all of a sudden. "I mean – if you… if you want to try…? I'd be up for it."

Cloud flinches a little at that and casts him a look. How red he is makes his eyes seem even brighter. "Right," he says, curt enough to sound annoyed, even sarcastic… but the look on his face isn't exactly dismissive, just exceedingly awkward. "…Sure."

"Is that a yes?" Desmond asks, a little uncertain.

Cloud looks away again, flexing his hands, open and shut. It does some interesting things to his forearms. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I've never –" he stops and hisses out an embarrassed, frustrated breath.

"We can take our time, figure it out," Desmond offers, his heart immediately picking up the pace. "If you want? There's a lot of stuff we still need to figure out. No need to do anything right now – we can just… take it slow."

Cloud swallows. "Slow," he mutters. "Yeah."

Desmond tilts his head, trying to get an angle at his face. "We could ask Aerith and Zack to watch over Seph, and go out, see where that takes us?" he offers hopefully. "Not right now, maybe not tomorrow either, but… sometime? You know, like… a date?"

He wouldn't have thought Cloud could get any more awkward, but he manages it. "Y-yeah, sure," he says. "We could try that, yeah."

Desmond bites his lip to keep himself from grinning like an idiot. "Sweet," he says, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, feeling downright giddy. "It's settled then."

Cloud nods silently, not looking at him – and then they're just standing there, in a flustered aftermath of a decision made. Desmond licks his lips, thinking of what to say next – might be time to suggest they head indoors and sleep on this before they end up imploding – but before he can suggest it, Cloud turns around and takes a quick, determined step towards him.

With a sudden throb in his chest, Desmond freezes, eyes widening as Cloud steps right up to him, looking up at him with gleaming eyes full of intent. It's a little awkward, the height difference isn't inconsiderable, and Cloud can't reach. It would be funny, except just the fact that the guy is planning on it makes Desmond's knees feel suddenly wobbly – and he folds like a sheet at the slightest urging of Cloud's hand on his arm.

Cloud tastes like a burn, like a shot of whiskey that's just a little stronger than anticipated – and honestly, Desmond thinks no one can blame him for getting pretty much instantly intoxicated, with that kind of exposure. 

It lingers a little, Cloud's lips parting like he's surprised before he withdraws, his eyes wide and so bright, and it's all Desmond can do to stop himself from hauling the guy back in. For a moment they just stand there, Desmond barely even daring to breathe.

Then, clearing his throat a little, Cloud steps back. "Right," he says, licking his lips.

"Right," Desmond agrees, his voice a little high.

Cloud nods, his face still red, and then turns away. "Let's, uh… it's late."

"Yeah," Desmond agrees and tries to bring his brain back in order. It kind of feels like he's floating, a little. Wow. "Ready to turn in?"

Cloud says nothing, just heads for the house. Desmond, trying to clear his suddenly fuzzy head by shaking it, quickly turns to follow him and somehow manages to not stumble like an idiot into every obstacle along the way.

Well, then. Guess they're headed somewhere, now.

Chapter Text

Seph doesn't forget things.

When he is younger, they say, "Hopefully this won't stick," and "He shouldn't remember about this in a few years," and "With any luck, he'll forget about it." They say it a lot, and about a lot of things. Things that came before mostly, the time that's behind a veil of memories, the time when he was Grown Up and also Gone – but also about stuff that goes wrong. Like the trash pile collapse that kills a worker and he sees it happen, like how Elmyra promises to get him something and then can't afford it and hopes it would slip his mind, and the way he walks in on Aerith and Zack, and they try to bribe him so that Cloud wouldn't kill them both... Not that Cloud would, but… that's beside the point.

Seph doesn't forget anything. From that first day all the way to now, he remembers every single thing. He also remembers being Sephiroth, which he thinks is what his parents are mostly worried about. Because Sephiroth wasn't all there. He isn't all there now either, though. Because even though Seph used to be Sephiroth… he doesn't think he is, anymore.

He doesn't think Sephiroth would've wanted him to be, because Sephiroth was pretty unhappy with… everything. Except for when he was really insane, then the weirdest things made him happy – like being killed with a particular sword. Sephiroth preferred the Buster Sword, anyway. The First Tsurugi didn't feel the same. Not that the First Tsurugi even exists anymore, or ever will. Probably not, anyway. It was a thing from another time, and even though he can't really forget, Seph would… rather not think about it.

Thankfully, there are some good memories too – new memories, memories with Cloud and Desmond, which he thinks Sephiroth would probably prefer, over the memories of Hojo, anyway. Of course, Seph has old memories of Cloud, not all of them good, but this Cloud is different, and Desmond…

Actually, Seph doesn't know where Desmond came from. Cloud seems comfortable with him, though, and he gives the best hugs, so… Seph will take him over Hojo any day.

When Seph is at his smallest, the building site seems impossibly huge. They are there almost every day. At first, Cloud never leaves Seph's side, and Seph remembers the exact grit of his calluses perfectly because of how much Cloud holds his hand. Cloud carries him a lot too, and that's nice. Sometimes Seph misses the feeling of that big SOLDIER belt, the way it became a sort of perfect ledge to sit on, when Cloud held him just so – it was easy to climb up too.

There is so much to do – so much to see. So many people. Desmond would always be climbing somewhere, either on top of the trash piles or the house – which isn't really a house yet, just a bunch of metal boxes stacked on top of each other. There is always noise, either machinery working, or tools being used on the metal walls, banging of hammers and the whir of electric drill. The noise sounds like home… after Seph gets used to it.

Seph's first toy is a wrench he found at the construction site. Desmond lets him have it, even polishes the rust off it and wraps the handle of it in linen, and gives him a bunch of nuts and bolts and screws and a couple of wooden boards full of holes to screw them into. Cloud is a little dubious about it, saying, "Well, that's going to end up a disaster," while watching carefully as Seph tries to get his fingers to work the way he needs them to, to thread the bolts into the nuts properly.

"Hey, the kid wants to build stuff – I think that's the opposite of a disaster," Desmond answers, grinning. Desmond is always grinning, talking about him. "It's better than a hammer and nails at least, yeah – not that many sharp edges."

Cloud watches him like a nervous chocobo that first day, but Seph is careful and only gets a few splinters. He still remembers the triangle he made from those boards, a bit wobbly and not very secure – but it's a thing he built. Even if it was from pre-prepared materials and under supervision, he made a thing.

Sephiroth didn't make much of anything in his life. Battle plans and stratagems and occasionally training plans, but he didn't make things.

Seph gets to use a hammer and nails a week later, helping Desmond and Cloud do some of the dry walling. None of the nails he tries to beat actually go in, staying sticking out, and Cloud ends up hammering them in the rest of the way – but in the house, there are 14 nails that Seph got at least mostly into the walls. He also carried some stuff towards the end, and held a box of screws for Desmond when he was doing the window and door frames. In the house, there's his work too.

To this day, every time he comes by those particular nails, he runs a hand over them and feels just a tiny bit smug over them.

Sephiroth never had a house, either.

They move into the house before it's actually finished. Seph thinks it's because their presence at Elmyra's house is starting to strain her resources – monetary or mental, who knows, but she's getting irritable. So, Cloud and Desmond pack up what they have – which isn't much – and they get some used stuff from Above The Plate – second hand, probably – and they make a single big bed in the old office part of the house. It's the only part that has finished walls, some heating and both running water and electricity, so it's more liveable than Seph eventually finds out most places in the slums are.

What he remembers though is how cramped it is. The big bed, two mattresses pinned together and covered in pillows and blankets, take up a third of the entire office, and they all sleep in it, together. It's cosy but it's also tight and it's hard to get up without waking Cloud and Desmond, when he had to go pee. That wasn't really a problem, at Elmyra's house.

They also start cooking for themselves.

"Just peel and chop everything into tiny bits – it's not that hard," Desmond instructs Cloud in the beginning, showing him how to do it. "Just as long as there's more vegetable than there's peel in the end, I'll be happy."

"Right," Cloud answers, and it's fascinating how he puts the same amount of intent and determination into learning how to do it right, as he did into beating Sephiroth. Like it's a huge important task, peeling and chopping vegetables.

The first thing they eat together, the first dinner Desmond makes for them, is mostly mush. Vegetables, cut too fine, and boiled at slightly too high temperatures, a bit too long. The only spice they have is salt. They eat sitting on the bed, because they no longer have the space inside for a table, and all their dinnerware is chipped and none of it matches. Seph thinks Desmond found it in the trash.

It is nothing like the stately dinners Sephiroth had attended, dressed up in fancy suits and talking to rich and important people over 4 courses and a whole arsenal of perfectly arranged and matching silverware. This dinner is undignified, and Seph burns his tongue and Cloud ends up spilling water on the bed, helping him take a drink to soothe it. Desmond tries to be all sympathetic, but he can't stop laughing, even as Seph sticks out his tongue at him.

It's good. A good memory.

A worse memory is when they got a word that the new ShinRa Director couldn't hold the former Vice President indefinitely. Seph isn't supposed to understand the intricacies of what went down in ShinRa at that time – but he does.

Mostly it comes down to money and influence – and those people Rufus Shinra had behind him. As big and universally dominating as the ShinRa Corporation was, it was only that due to its many thousands of backers, and not all of those were simply workers in ShinRa's employ. There were rich investors, businessmen, bankers, people who were not directly involved with ShinRa, but were nonetheless a big part in helping ShinRa stay in power. Even the President had people he needed to appease to hold onto power – and those people aren't too pleased with the New Director.

No single person has absolute control – even tyrants rely on their people, their power base, for their own influence and power – and though the new ShinRa Director had the SOLDIERs, the Infantry and a lot of the workforce at his side… he needed to pay their salaries too. And that was hard, when a group of really influential people threatened to destroy the value of money.

In the end, Rufus ShinRa has to be released, otherwise Midgar would've ended up a warzone between the common people and the rich elite, and though Seph supposes the Director could've won that fight pretty easily… Midgar wouldn't have survived it. Not the way they want it to be, anyway. It would've been a tyranny, afterwards, a military totalitarianism. And no one involved, especially the Director, wants that.

Cloud isn't happy. Neither is Desmond. It means a lot of things, not all of them good. Things like having a board of directors at ShinRa again, making decisions. Things like the return of Scarlet and rumours about Heidegger and unease about the state of Public Security. Things like Turks back in Midgar, which is probably the worst of it.

Desmond doesn't know Seph hears him when he says, "I could just go and kill them and be done with it," but Seph heard. Desmond never does go and kill them, though, so, assumably Cloud and Desmond ultimately decide it isn't such a good idea, either.

Rufus has been defanged, as have the Turks – the power they had before, they've mostly lost. It comes through the public speeches, what few Rufus gets the chance to make, and the fact that he is no longer even the Vice President, never mind the real President. The Director compromises to keep the peace, but ShinRa is a very different beast now, and the old guard is kept on for now only to make the transition more permanent and less illegal – and probably to smooth things over with Wutai while they're at it.

Seph has no doubt that Scarlet would be gone soon, though – Heidegger has no power anymore, and Palmer is already out. It's only a matter of time.

But for a while, things are a little tense.

They begin building the next house before their house is completely done. Aerith and Zack want their own place too, and "It's so tiresome, having to come all the way here every morning! Are you sure we can't bunk in with you? Pretty please?"

Cloud sets his foot down, because there isn't enough space – and so, Zack starts to get more shipping containers brought in, to make their own house. Seph gets to watch it, even rides on Zack's shoulders for the moving – getting to see the Big Hands in action again.

"We've come pretty far, huh, buddy?" Zack says, and because Seph knows he means Sephiroth and not him, really, he says nothing in return. 

No SOLDIER really got a home. Not like this – none of them got to make their homes. Zack had his own house when he was a kid, he grew up in a town far away, he had parents, probably his own stuff. But joining ShinRa… that was the price. Their lives were signed away with the first Mako Injection – and Sephiroth's had been in the womb. He'd never owned so much as his own room, sharing a bunk until his dying day. The most he got in the way of personal privacy was occasionally a tent, or a hotel room.

Seph's room is still unfinished, but it would be a loft bedroom, it would have a door, it would be filled with his things… once he has more things to fill it with. He'd even get a balcony, if everything pans out right.

Seph thinks about Genesis and Angeal and wonders if they thought the bargain they'd made for power was worth it – or if the bargain had been made for them. They'd gotten civilian upbringings, too – and Mako injections in the womb. Was it worth it? For anyone involved?

Probably not.

But they'd come a long way from then, that much is true.

The house is built just before the autumn, when the air is starting to get colder. Midgar doesn't get winter like places like Nibelheim do, but it gets nippy and goes below freezing in the night time – so even if it will never rain on their house, it's nice having insulation.

They have a celebration, a party – the first one Seph's attended, and far different from any party he remembers. Aerith makes lanterns and hangs them from fences and from the side of the house. Tifa brings in drinks and food, and Desmond and Zack cook and grill together in a big outdoor kitchen cobbled together from a broken door, some cinder blocks and a grill they'd rescued from the junkyard. A lot of the builders attend, and Billy makes a speech. Desmond gets drunk.

It's the first time Seph sees his parents kiss – the entire party cheer them on, and though Cloud gets all embarrassed, he lets it happen. They look happy, smiling, Desmond even manages to get Cloud dancing. The whole party seems happy. There's loud music coming from a broken jukebox, and everyone makes toasts, and the food tastes like grease and salt and spices.

Nothing at all like a ShinRa celebration. The noise level is about at par with a parade, sort of, and there's cheering that's a bit similar, but the atmosphere is completely different. It's more like the nights in Wutai, during a rare ceasefire, when someone had smuggled in booze and the SOLDIERs pretended to be affected while the infantrymen got completely plastered. Seph remembers the taste of it, and it makes him completely disinterested in trying it out now. Not that anyone would even let him.

He shares ice cream with Marlene instead and listens to her telling him about the Bar. "We have a jukebox too," she says. "And we got tables and chairs, and people play darts and drink a lot and get really loud – and that's usually when Daddy takes me to bed."

"Daddy," Seph repeats – it's a new word to him. Desmond sometimes calls himself or Cloud dad in relation to Seph, "I'm Seph's dad," and "We're the dads," and so on, but… they've never actually told him to call them that. Not that he calls them anything really.

Marlene nods. "Yeah, like yours – that's mine," she points to the big man, dancing with a much smaller woman and looking completely taken with her giggling. "I only got the one, though, but that's alright – we got Tifa too, and that's just as good, I think."

Seph rolls the word in his mind, looking down at the ice cream. Sephiroth had had ice cream, he knows – but rarely, and it had never felt like something he was allowed to enjoy. It was beneath him. That's what his dad had told him. For Seph, it isn't even his first ice cream that night, never mind in total. His first had been in Elmyra's house, she'd gotten them some for dessert. He's had other sweets too, though it still feels like a guilty pleasure every time.

"Are you okay?" Marlene asks, giving him a frown that looks more like a pout on her young face.

"Yes," Seph agrees, and bites into the ice cream.

Desmond and Cloud deserve the title of Dad – or Daddy – more than Hojo did, don't they?

Sometimes, Seph dreams of being Grown Up. Mostly the dreams are pointless, just memories from when he was Sephiroth and things were different. They're not particularly fun dreams, and not always painless either, but they don't really matter, because he knows every time that they're just dreams. Rarely he dreams of Jenova, of the Calamity, and those are a little worse, but even then they're just dreams.

They're nothing to cry about, because things are different, and he's small now, and he has his parents, and things are better.

But the longer things are better, the harder it seems to be, to stay quiet when his own mind wants to hurt him.

Desmond is usually the one who picks it up fastest. Even after they stop sharing a bed, and Sephiroth gets his own room, it's usually Desmond who wakes him up from those dreams. A hand on his shoulder or in his hair, soothingly stroking up and down, and a voice, whispering, "Seph, baby, it's alright, it's just a dream…"

And he knows it's a dream – he knows it is, it doesn't matter, it doesn't do anything, it doesn't change things. Jenova is gone, the Calamity was beaten, and Grown Up Sephiroth is just a memory – none of it should affect him. In the beginning, he even manages to believe that.

But weirdly, ironically, once they have the house and they're all safe, it's harder to stifle his reaction. His heart pounds, and his lungs heave, and he shakes, and his eyes burn – and when Desmond pulls him into his arms just as Cloud joins them, sleep-rumpled and obviously tired, but there…

"Bad dream again?" Cloud asks, sitting down close, putting his hand on Seph's back. "It's okay, kiddo. You're alright."

And that's when Seph cries for the first time. He's not happy about it, later he's definitely not proud about it. If it had been in the labs, if it had been Hojo holding him, he would've been told to shut up, to pipe down, to stop acting childish – and if that hadn't worked, he would've been given a sedative.

Desmond just rocks him and hums soothingly, sympathetically, and Cloud is there, stroking his hair, pressing a kiss on top of his head, and neither of them ever tells him to shut up.

He ends up sleeping between them that night, like they used to sleep when just the old office was habitable. Desmond tugs him in with machine-gun kisses against Seph's cheek, and Cloud smiles quietly and puts an arm around him, and just like that, everything seems alright.

That's when Seph decides he's going to try calling them Dads, after all.

The Turks come calling when the puddles on the ground turn to ice, and Aerith and Zack have taken to sleeping in the old office, waiting for the insulation on their house to finish. Tseng, Seph thinks the guy's name is, though even Sephiroth doesn't remember him that well. It was a long time ago.

"You must understand that things have… changed," he says, though Seph can't tell who's he talking to. Aerith probably. "ShinRa has changed."

"Yeah, no shit," Cloud says with a snort.

"Thanks to our new Director," Tseng says, a little stilted, "The company mandate has shifted – now, more than ever, the guidance of the Ancients is vital –"

"I'm going to stop you right there, Tseng," Zack says dangerously. "Because if you do, I might have to put a boot up your ass. Old friend or not, don't go there."

Rufus sent him, Seph muses with Sephiroth's cunning. The power dynamics at ShinRa are weird now, lopsided – Rufus is trying to gain power, but the coalition of the Director and Tuesti is pretty strong, and no outside influence will make the SOLDIER change sides now. So, Rufus needs something to use in their new, changing environment – some advantage over others as they made the slow and torturous shift away from Mako energy. With things swinging more and more towards renewable and less polluting forms of energy… What would be a better chip to cash in, than the Influence of the Ancients?

Even with how cold it is, you can already tell that Aerith lives in the area – before it froze over, all the grass was green. Come spring, they'd probably have a lawn, if everything wouldn't be taken over by flowers, anyway. That sort of thing would be just what Rufus needs for a quick leg up in the new race for influence and power.

Zack and Cloud obviously are against it, which makes sense. Desmond says nothing, he's thinking. Aerith…

"I wouldn't mind helping. Renewing the region and getting things growing again, that's all I really want for Midgar. But," she adds, smiling as Tseng's head comes up. "But… if I ever do work for ShinRa, in any capacity," she says, smiling. "It will be with Kunsel and Reeve."

"And I'll be there, every step of the way," Zack says. "So don't you try anything."

"Hear hear," Cloud agrees.

It's all politics, though Seph isn't sure if they realise it. Aerith, if she ever steps on that stage publicly, would be a hugely influential figure just because of her bloodline – with a word, she could turn the tide whichever way she so chose. Rufus knows it, Reeve Tuesti and Director Kunsel know it – but Seph isn't sure Aerith does.

Tseng knows. And when it's obvious that he would not be able to win against Zack and Cloud… he turns his eyes to Seph, and Desmond. "You're not the only Ancient, though, are you?"

That's the first time Seph learns that Desmond is an Ancient too – and that he's a lot more savvy at politics than the others combined. There's actual consideration on his face when he faces Tseng – he actually thinks about it. "You know we only said that to get into the Building, right?" he says amusedly, and it isn't until much later in life Seph figures out what he does there. "Though I suppose Hojo never got the chance to disprove it."

Tseng's eyes narrow, and he thinks, and he grinds his teeth – and then he looks down at Seph, who can't quite stop himself from stepping back nervously. He's seen that look – on the faces of scientists. "Sephiroth is demonstrably related to the Ancients," Tseng says, a threat.

"Fucking try us," Cloud says, and Desmond just smiles, his hands secure on Seph's shoulders.

It's not the last time Tseng comes calling – nor the last time he looks at Seph like that, like he's calculating how much he is worth. But it was the last time he made it so obvious. No one takes Aerith to the ShinRa tower either – and when she eventually does collaborate with them, they come to her.

There are other visits, and sometimes the Turks come around to "check up on things". They're never welcome and rarely stay for long, and only push their limits once. That night, Desmond slips out, silent as a shadow and with intent in his eyes, and Cloud stays up all night, waiting for him. 

The Turks stop making visits after that.

It's been almost four months, and the winter is turning to spring, when they head out to watch the first windmills going up. Seph thinks it's mostly an excuse for his parents to get motorcycles – something they'd been talking about a lot, lately. Seph gets to ride with Cloud, half blind behind his motorcycle helmet and tightly secured to him, and it's pretty exciting, all things considered. It's the most they've travelled.

There's a lot of people out there, watching. Aerith and Zack are there, of course – she's brought flowers and is selling them to the audience. Barret is there with little Marlene and Tifa and a bunch of other people from Avalanche, and Reeve Tuesti is running the whole show, managing the construction, with Red and Cait Sith looking like they're literally getting underfoot. It looks kind of hectic and chaotic.

There are speeches and explanations and live music played on top of a stone platform, and it's kind of like a parade, except without the marching troopers. The windmill takes almost two hours to actually get set up, and then it takes another hour almost before it actually starts working. Slowly, slowly the massive blades begin turning, so slowly that Seph isn't sure how it can even produce power, but Desmond seems thrilled. The thing is huge, a lot bigger than Seph had realised.

"Has to be, to reach the really powerful winds higher up," Desmond explains, smiling. "I bet the future ones will be even bigger. Cool, isn't it?"

"Yea," Seph says and holds up his arms. "Dad, I wanna up."

"I guess it's a step in the right direction," Cloud hums and lifts Seph up and to his shoulders. "Do you think they can get the others up today?"

"Doubt it," Desmond admits, grinning at them. "But it's still pretty cool."

"Mm. Do you… wanna hang out here, after? Make a night of it?" Cloud asks, clearing his throat. "We're far enough away from the light pollution, and the sky's clear. Might see the stars tonight."

It's never not a little bit weird, seeing Cloud being lovey-dovey with Desmond. Seph is still not entirely sure where Desmond even came from. But it seems to work for them, and Desmond still gives the best hugs – Cloud obviously thinks so too.

They do see the stars that night. Seph has memories of a thousand nights spent under the sky, on missions, in Wutai, during training exercises, when he'd looked up and felt himself small under the starry sky. It's different now, though. It's the first time Seph's seen them.

They look brand new.