Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oh boy. 3 AM.

It was the weird time of night, when the average patron of the bars in Wall Market decided it was time to go home. Except the trains had stopped running at midnight, and wouldn't be going again until 5 for the early Shinra birds. And that meant they had no way home.

Except for Sam's Chocobo Carriages.

Cloud reached up and stroked Eudora’s neck feathers. She cooed in appreciation, leaning in to the touch. Tonight, they were on the Sector 4 route. A little harrowing, but nothing too wild or crazy. Eudora had nerves of steel, and could outpace any errant critter that crawled around the slums.

The carriage had four seats, yes, but on a busy night like this, he could squeeze double that in. At the normal rate of 200 per head, that was about 16 hundo right there. But at 3 AM, when all the stragglers were leaving with no way to get home, he could get away with upping it to 300 per, bringing the total before tip to a nice 24 hundo. It didn't leave much for him either way, with 80% of the fare going back to Sam, but still.

Sure enough, the bars began to empty, a wave of drunken people staggering towards the pickup stations like the most unsteady river he'd ever seen. He didn't even need to holler to get people to come over. A group of four young, well dressed folks absolutely sloshed out of their minds made their way to his Sector 4 sign. “You goin’ t’ Sector Ffffour?” one of the men asked.

They still had their company lanyards on, holding their employee IDs. Cloud looked them up and down, eyeing the lanyards and the finery. They might be grounders like him, but he held no love for Shinra.

Cloud nodded in reply, saying, “Yes, sir. Five hundred a head.”

“Five hundred?!” one of the drunks demanded. “That's highway robbery!”

He shrugged. “I don't make the rates.” The group conferred for a moment, rummaging through purses and wallets. Cloud stretched, resting his hands behind his head. Yes, he didn't make the rates. Sam would ask for 300 for each person in his books. The extra change wouldn't need to be known. Tax free earnings for him. And what would they do, ask Sam? Sam would probably rip them a new one for pestering him for something so trivial. And then charge them seven hundred a head.

The designated leader staggered back, handing a string of coins to Cloud. He did some quick math, counting the coins by size. They weren't grouped by size or value, making the task harder, but indeed, 2000 Gil in coins was strung along a simple cord. Cloud nodded, grabbing his book. “Get in,” he said.

The four drunks staggered their way into the carriage, one of the girls choosing to sit on someone’s lap rather than in the free seat. Cloud looked out at the twenty someodd people staggering their way out of the bars, laughing and cackling over jokes he wasn’t privy to. None of them seemed to be heading towards the 4 cart. A few towards the 8, a couple towards the 3, and way too many towards the 1. Too many for one cart. Given he would be a bit short, Cloud planned to go a little faster towards 4, then come back and pick up the stragglers to 1. He closed up the carriage, slapping it on the door for good luck, then hopped up into the driver’s seat.

With just a little nudge with the reins, Eudora set off into the night. Someone in the back of the carriage gagged with the sudden movement, and Cloud called back, “If you're gonna hurl, do it out a window or something.”

The slum roads weren't exactly “well maintained” by any stretch of the imagination. But at this point, these roads were as familiar to Cloud as the cobbled roads of Nibelheim. He knew each pothole, each ditch, each loose stone like an old friend. Traveling the same roads for five years does that to a man.

Five years… had it really been that long? Cloud looked up to the sky, surveying the steel sky and its sunlamps. Five years since he'd been able to see the real stars. Five years since he and Tifa struck out on their own. There just wasn't work for young folk in Nibelheim that wasn't the same job their parents had. And since his mother's job was “mom”, he couldn't do that. Especially since they needed the money. And despite his insistence that he would be fine on his own, Tifa either didn't agree, or just needed an excuse to go off with him.

Five years of Chocobo rides. Five years of scraping by in the largest city in the world. Five years doing his best to survive. What a wild ride.

Cloud deftly maneuvered Eudora around a particularly nasty pot hole. That was an axel breaker for sure. The people in the carriage cackled as they rocked back and forth. Despite their cackling, a strange, tense silence permeated the slums. 3 AM was known for its silence, especially on these back roads between sectors. But this was too silent. There was normally a hum of machinery, the scutters of rats and bugs, the smallest bit of wind that stirred the air and blew smoke and steam around. There was none of that. Cloud expected to see an ominous cloud bank in the sky above, a promise or a threat of a massive storm. But he knew above him would be the same sunlamps, the same distant glow of the plateside homes.

What met his gaze was the same that he expected. Fixed stars, dimmed for the evening. And… something else.

He saw it before he heard it. And he heard it before he felt it. There was a massive explosion at the far edge of Sector 4, where the reactor was. And with the explosion, every distant “star” in the sky above flickered before fading.

Eudora, despite her nerves of steel, let out a terrified kweh, reeling back and flapping her wings. Cloud did what he could to steady her, keeping her from throwing the whole carriage. The people in back gasped and screamed, with one of them thrown from the back and onto the dirt road below.

One by one, windows were opened, then doors. People poked their heads out, looking at the rising column of smoke. And on seeing that there was an obvious power outtage, those who had them brought out candles, lanterns, and flashlights to light the darkness.

The drunks in the carriage staggered out, horrified expressions on their faces. The column of smoke only grew in size. Soon, helicopters were over the scene, shining a beacon down to the site of the accident.

Cloud reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone. He snapped a pic of the plume, then dialed out.

One ring.

Two rings.

 Three ri–

“Seventh Heaven,” greeted Tifa, “Can you hold?”

“Hey, uhh, no,” Cloud replied.

“Cloud? Aren't you working tonight?”

“Yeah, but–”

“What's up?”

“You're at the bar?”

“Yeah?”

“So this… wasn't you? Or your team?”

“What're you talking about? Did something happ–”

In the background, Cloud heard the characteristic bellow of Barret, one of Tifa's “coworkers”. He shouted, “Yo, turn the TV on!”

Tifa sighed, then said, “Give me a minute, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Cloud replied, staring transfixed at the plume of smoke.

The ground beneath him rumbled, and the stagnant stars of Sector 4 flickered back on. He could hear ambulances rushing around above him, sirens blaring. And on the phone, he could hear bits and pieces of the news report.

“... massive explosion at the Sector 4 reactor… currently unknown… state of emergency. Please stay indoors… search and rescue…”

Barret whooped, saying, “Hell yeah! One blow to the regime!”

“Barret!” Tifa chided. “People are dead!” She picked up the phone, saying, “Sorry, Cloud. I take it that's what you're talking about?”

Cloud nodded, then realized she couldn't see him. “Yeah,” he said. “I'm okay, I'm pretty far from it, but it…” He sucked in a breath. “It looks bad.”

Tifa hummed a bit to herself. She said, “It's not my team, no. Everyone’s here.”

“That's good. I'm glad everyone's safe.”

“You should head home. Stay safe, okay?”

“Yeah, you too.” Just as he hung up, another call came in, this time from Sam. Oh, boy. “Hey, Boss,” Cloud greeted.

“How's Eudora?”

No concern for the person, only concern for the bird. Typical Sam. Eudora had rested her head on Cloud's shoulder, shivering with fear. “She's spooked,” Cloud replied, “But safe.”

Sam heaved a heavy sigh of relief. “Good. And you're good?”

“Yeah. I just unloaded.” There was another distant explosion, and a fresh plume of smoke erupted from the reactor. “I uhh–”

“You're off fer the night.”

“Really?”

“Yep. They're closin’ roads an’ makin’ life hard. Don't want no trouble. Just get Eudora home, then be done for the night.”

“Alright, uhh… okay. I'll start off.”

He hung up, pocketing his phone. With a heavy sigh, he hopped back up onto the carriage and started nudging Eudora towards home. He had a feeling that someone had decided to kick a hornet's nest, and he was about to get the brunt of their ire.

No reason why he thought that. The anxiety brain train doesn't always make sense. But there was just… something that said things were only going to get worse. And he'd get caught up in it.

Oh, boy. He couldn't wait.

Chapter Text

Between the road closures and the sheer volume of people out and about, it took Cloud and Eudora about two hours to get home. By then, the sun was starting to rise, illuminating the eastern sky. And with those brilliant streaks, normally the night owls that called Wall Market would be heading home, making way for the day larks. Instead, they were all milling about the Market, unsure what to do, like very confused pigeons. A lot of the trains were off, due to the incident at Reactor 4. And Sam wasn't capitalizing on the business opportunity, so people were stuck here. Namely because of the road closures themselves. And the searches of the carriages. 

Not like Cloud was speaking from experience or anything. He'd been flagged down twice on his way home. Where are you going? Why are you out? What's in the carriage? You're not hiding anything from us, are you?

And what choice did he have? Public security wasn't afraid to use their rifles to get what they wanted, and they knew that people knew they weren’t afraid to use their rifles. Meaning they could get away with a lot. Sure, there were some people in public security that were actually nice. But for every nice guy, there were fifty not-so-nice guys. Cloud was lucky to get home with his earnings for the day still in his pockets.

Once he was back at Wall Market, Cloud unhitched Eudora and went about shutting down for the day. Stowing the carriage, stalling Eudora, getting her out of her tack, getting her brushed, feeding her, dropping off his leger and Sam's cut… The whole process took about an hour. And by that point, he was tired. Yes, he'd only been up since 4 yesterday, and he normally turned in around an hour from now, but… there was a deep tiredness that sat in his body.

Rule 1 of living on the ground floor: take care of yourself.

Cloud lived in the apartment above Madam M's hand massage parlor. Given their nocturnal tendencies, being above the parlor wasn't as much of a hindrance to his sleep as one would think. And while she insisted the place was a reputable business, the sounds he heard during business hours didn't suggest that. But now, as he stepped into his apartment, it was quiet down there.

It was quiet up here, too. Just the faintest hum of electricity. The cooing of pigeons out the window. The sound of…

… breathing.

Cloud reached over to the baseball bat leaning up against the wall near the door. Hopefully whoever was in here would just need a bit of posturing rather than actual skull bashing. He gripped the bat tightly as he advanced further.

The hell would burglars even want with him or his place? His home wasn't exactly dripping in opulence. Sure, it was better than other slum dwellings he'd seen, but it was obvious he didn't have much. Nothing obvious, at least. He had an armchair, a small TV, a table with two chairs, and a lumpy couch that was currently occupied by a sleeping man.

Seriously. Nothing of value he–wait a sleeping man?

Cloud crept closer, bat held tightly in both hands. Indeed, draped carelessly across his couch was a man, about six feet tall, with pale skin and black hair. He wore a red cloak, wrapped around his body like a blanket. Cloud prodded his foot, clad in brass grieves. The man did not respond. If not for the faint breathing and the rise of his chest he could be mistaken for dead.

Cool! A junkie broke into his home, and is now conked out on his couch! Exactly what he needed!

Cloud jostled his foot with the bat, saying, “Hey. Buddy. Get up.”

The man did not stir.

Prod, prod. “Get up. Get out of my house.”

No response.

Prod. “Buddy. Pal. Get–”

He froze, as a long, sharp piece of metal suddenly rested against his neck.

Figures. Tall, dark, and sleepy here must be the bait. And the real threat looming behind him now had a very large knife. The voice behind him, muffled by something, commanded, “Drop the bat and stop hassling my friend.”

Cloud did as instructed, the bat falling to the floor with a loud clatter. He raised his hands in submission, saying, “T-there's nothing valuable here. Or in my pockets.”

The giant knife was pulled from his throat, but he was forcibly turned around to face his attacker. The man in front of him was a smidge shorter than he was, maybe about three inches shorter than Cloud. He had a cloth mask wrapped around his lower face, while he wore a pair of reflective sunglasses obscuring his eyes. He had both a snapback cap and a hood on, covering his hair. The hoodie he wore was loose, ill fitting, to match the overly baggy jeans he wore. He stowed on his back what Cloud had assumed was a knife, but was instead a huge sword.

Overall, he looked absolutely ridiculous.

The man considered him, looking him up and down, before asking, “What are you doing here?”

Cloud stammered, then barked out, “I live here!”

“Yeah, I gathered! Broad strokes, what are you doing here?”

“What do you–”

Before Cloud could finish, the man grabbed his shoulders and shook him for emphasis, repeating, “ What are you doing here ?!”

And before Cloud could answer, a second voice called out, “What's the issue?” It sounded like a woman, vaguely familiar, but Cloud couldn't put his finger on where he'd heard her.

The man in front of him sighed, then called back, “We have a problem.”

“What kind of–” the woman asked, stepping into the room. She was done up much the same, with a hat and hoodie combo, sunglasses and a mask. Where he wore baggy pants and sneakers, she wore what Cloud could only assume were shorts under her hoodie, tall socks, and work boots.

Upon seeing him, she froze, face unreadable beneath the layers of obfuscation. She finally asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I live here!!” Cloud cried. “I pay rent! I pay my electricity bill! I get cable! I live here! Why is that the weird part of this?!” He pointed at the confounded duo. “You two broke in here–” he pointed at the sleeping man, “--so that tall dark and sleepy could crash on my godsdamned couch!!”

The masked couple looked at each other, before the woman concluded, “This is a problem.”

“Yeah, no shi–” Cloud started.

The man held up a finger, saying, “Hold that thought.” He grabbed the woman’s shoulders, asked, “Sidebar?” She nodded, and he scooted her away from Cloud while they talked.

“ What do we do?? ” the man whispered.

“I mean we can’t just–” The woman stopped, then turned to Cloud and said, “Hey. No. Private conversation.”

“I’m not just gonna–”

The man reached for his sword.

“Okay I guess I’m just gonna–” He went to sit down on the couch, but stopped when he remembered that oh yeah there was a guy asleep on his couch. Cool. Cloud awkwardly perched on the arm rest of the couch, pointedly looking at the window. Real riveting scenery.

He picked up bits and pieces of the conversation. “... too much.” said the man.

“You aren’t suggesting we–”

“No! God, no! …”

“... sorry.”

“… k you….”

“... we should do, then?”

“...  take him and leave, it’s too late.... There’ll be others.”

“So then–”

“We make it worth his while. ….”

“... you think?”

“Iunno. I ...”

“ Ten ?”

“...”

“... shitton…!”

“...”

“...”

“We agree, then?”

“We agree.”

“Cool.” The man cleared his throat and said, “Alright, kid, we got a proposition for you.”

Oh great, now they’re propositioning him. Cloud hopped off his couch arm and approached. “Alright, let me hear it, guy with the giant sword.”

The man held up a finger and said, “Wait, no, scratch that. Back to couch.”

Cloud sighed and hopped back onto the couch arm.

“We need code names.”

“Wha–”

“What am I supposed to say, call me “guy with the giant sword?” That’s a mouthful!”

“And what about–”

“Yeah no that’s a brain popper. Can’t do that.”

“And we can't use the names we used last time because…?”

“Code names are more fun.”

The woman sighed. “Fine. I'm done fighting about this.”

“Okay. Uhh… He can be Dante.”

“Dante? From that weird vampire movie you like?”

“Yeah! I mean, look. The Venn Diagram is basically a circle.”

“Wh–”

“Both wear leather. Both wear red dramatic pieces of clothing. Both have shit with demons. And Both are VERY good at schüt.”

“You're getting excited.”

“Sorry.”

“Okay. …”

“What? No!”

“...”

“... I mean…”

“What?”

“... You could be Beatrix.”

“Who? Why?”

“She's this super bad ass warrior knight from a book I read.”

“Okay?”

“She fights heroically, she doesn't give up, AND she's got a super cool eyepatch.”

Cloud could feel the air drop in temperature around him.

“Scratch that!” The man laughed. “I'm joking!”

The woman growled, “Back on track. And quiet down .”

The conversation continued, the two mindful of their volume. Cloud looked down at the sleeping man, the man they were apparently going to call Dante. His brows were furrowed, as though he were pained by their bickering.

At length, the man called over, “Alright, kid. We're ready.”

Cloud approached, saying, “I'm ready for whatever stupid code name you have now.”

The man laughed, then said, “We weren't expecting to think of fake names! Kind of caught us off guard.” He cleared his throat, and said, “You may call me… Greg.” Cloud guffawed. “What? What's wrong with Greg?”

“It's just…” Cloud gestured towards “Greg”, saying, “You could pick any name, and you picked… Greg.”

“Greg” whined, “Maybe I wanted a normal name!”

“If it were up to me, I'd be… I dunno, Lightning. That's a cool name.”

“Yeah, Cloud,” “Greg” teased, “Weather names are so cool.” He seemed to scowl under his disguise, then said, “Well now I want to change it.”

The woman rested her hand on “Greg”’s shoulder, then offered, “Why not Spike, you prickly little cactus?”

He thought it over, then announced, “That's perfect!” He rested his hands on his hips, saying, “You may call me Spike.”

Cloud rolled his eyes.

The woman stepped forward and said, “And I'm Delfina. It's nice to meet you.”

“And your sleeping friend is Dante?” Cloud asked.

Spike and Delfina nodded.

“Cool. Can you leave now?”

“Wait wait wait. We didn't even finish our proposition!” And whose fault is that ? Spike cleared his throat. “Right. Well. We can't leave. Not until Dante can move. We're already here, sooooo we might as well stay.” Cloud went to interject, but was stopped by Spike raising a finger. “But obviously that puts you in a pickle. So, in exchange for you letting us stay here, and not breathing a word of our existence to anyone ,” he growled, stepping up to match Cloud's gaze, before stepping back and continuing, “We are prepared to give you money.”

“Two grand, at least.” If they were really making it worth his while, that would be nice.

“How about ten?”

“... Ten? Ten Gil?”

“Ten grand Gil.”

“Ten… t-ten grand ?” Cloud stammered.

Spike nodded. “Ten thousand Gil.” He reached into one of his many pockets and procured an absolutely stuffed bill fold. The highest denomination of coins was 500. Anything higher than that was paper. All different colors and shapes, each wrinkled and worn with exchanging hands. These weren't freshly printed, these were circulated bills that Spike was just flipping through. He counted off one, two, three, four, five, and then a sixth, and offered it to Cloud. “I didn't have a tenner on me. They uhh… They're impractical.”

Cloud's fingers shook as he flicked through the bills. Five 1000 Gil bills, and one 5000. “Holy shit…” he breathed. “Hoooly shit.”

Spike leaned forward. “I'll take it that's a deal?”

Cloud looked up. “These are real?” He asked. His hands suddenly felt clammy.

Delfina strode over to him, resting her hand on his shoulder. Maybe it was the way his mind was racing, but the way she moved, reassured him, how she smelled felt familiar. She said, “It's real. You could go to any store and buy anything.”

Cloud shoved the bills into his pocket, then said, “No shoes on the furniture, otherwise you're good.”

Delfina and Spike cheered, high fiving. Delfina then hopped up onto the arm of the couch, while Spike plopped himself down in the armchair. He soon realized why Cloud had not elected to sit in it, as the springs in the seat were broken in a very painful way. Spike instead plopped down on the floor in front of the couch, asking, "Any reason other than money you haven't gotten rid of that?”

“I mean,” Cloud sighed, “It’s usually just me . I don’t usually entertain. The couch is all I need.” Any time he wanted to hang out with Tifa, he’d meet her at the Seventh Heaven.

Spike shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Cloud hopped up onto the free arm of the couch. He thought to go to bed, but the prospect of leaving three basically strangers, no matter how filthy rich they were, alone, unsupervised in his apartment seemed like a very bad idea. Instead, he fumbled for the remote to the TV, turning it on.

The TV flickered to life, coming in to a commercial for some kind of new car Shinra was peddling. Only 16 easy payments of 2299! Yeah, right. Not like it could even survive on the roads down here. Cloud rested his head on the back of the couch as the next commercial started. How the hell did this even turn into his life?

“Welcome back to SNN, we’re continuing our coverage of the incident at the Sector 4 reactor…” Cloud looked back at the TV. Helicopter footage showed the smoking remains of reactor 4. The reporter continued, “Public Security has secured the perimeter, and civilian casualties are still being reported. Sector 4 continues to stay locked down. All residents are encouraged to remain indoors.

“General Heidegger provided a written statement on the situation, reading, “Terrorism of any sort in our fair city will not be tolerated.” He has further gone to issue a one hundred thousand Gil bounty for any information that leads to the suspects being apprehended.”

Spike scoffed. “Only a hundred kay?” Delfina kicked him in the arm. “Whaaat? I thought we’d be worth more!”

“It’s a less important reactor, and a lot less people got hurt.” Delfina chided. “We shouldn’t even celebrate our bounty in the first place.”

On screen, the image changed to two artists’ renditions of what Cloud could only assume were Spike and Delfina. Spike had taken off his sunglasses and hood, revealing a mess of jagged hair, while Delfina was shown with dark hair and an eyepatch over her right eye. The news reporter continued, “We have received these sketches based on eyewitness accounts from the scene. Please stay tuned as our coverage continues.”

The scene went back to the newsroom, showing two reporters. The second reporter said, “Our next story is about a little girl who can’t get enough of Stamp!”

Cloud groaned as he flipped through the channels. Literally every channel had some kind of coverage on the incident. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for, just… noise? Something to drown out the raging thoughts in his head. Here he was, harboring three fugitives with a bounty on their head, accused of blowing up a godsdamned Reactor , and just…

Spike asked, “You got any video games?”

Cloud shrugged. “I have a Y-Cube. It plays Mayro, and that’s all I need.”

“Mayro, huh…” Spike shrugged. “Might be more palatable than Shinra News. You mind if I–”

“Go nuts,” Cloud replied, resting his head on the side of the couch. “Just… don’t delete my save or anything, okay?”

Spike got up and went about prepping the Y-Cube. Cloud closed his eyes as the tell tale tune of Mayro started. A wave of heavy tiredness enveloped him, like a warm blanket. No, no he can't sleep. Not with these weirdos… around…

Before he knew it, he was nodding off. Who knows? Maybe when he wakes up, they'll be gone. With no sign of them being here. Just a strange, waking dream. From stress. Too much stress.

Yeah. That's it. It'll be over when he wakes up.

Chapter Text

The air smelled like fresh pine, crisp and clean. He didn't know why, but he was running. Tifa was holding his hand, and he was running with her. Where? Home. Why? There was Something following them. No, not following. Chasing. Down rock crevices, across the stream, down the mountain path. Tifa was crying. Why was she crying? What had happened? Was it the Something following them? Or was it something else?

“We’re almost there!” He called out. The path evened out, getting closer to the town. The Something behind us was gaining on them, roaring like thunder. His lungs hurt. His legs hurt. But he still kept going.

Maybe it was the panic. Maybe it was the slight rain. Maybe it was a rock underfoot. The details of the “why” didn't matter. The “what” was more important. He was falling, head first off a cliff. Tifa was with him, falling, still holding his hand. He screamed as he plummeted towards the ground below, his lungs burning from the exertion. And looming above him on the cliff was the Something. Staring down at the plummeting children.

BANG BANG BANG.

Cloud jumped awake. He looked around, confused, trying to remember what happened. Why was he asleep on the arm of his couch again? What happ-oh.

He looked down at the slumbering man in his couch. And it all came back. The reactor. The break in. The mysterious bombers known by codenames. This one was… Dante, that's right. Where were the oth–

BANG BANG BANG.

Cloud wheeled around towards the door of his apartment. The other two were nowhere to be seen, possibly hiding from whatever was at his door.

Cloud rubbed his eyes and staggered his way to the door. He pressed his eye to the peephole, and was surprised to see Barret standing on the other side.

He went to unlock the door, and he realized he didn't even bother locking the door. No wonder Spike’s crew was able to get in. He opened the door a crack, saying, “Hi.”

“Yo!” Barret said. “You good?”

“... Yeah? Why wouldn't I–”

“We heard they were sweepin’ Wall Market for those bombers.” Barret glanced down the hallway. “Goddamn “Public security” ain't doin’ nothin’ for us folks down here in the muck, scrabblin’ for crumbs, but the minute somethin’ topside happens…”

Cloud rubbed at his eyes, still tired from his nap. He said, “I didn't know. Sorry.”

“Well, Tifa tried callin’ you. When you didn't pick up the fourth time, well, you know how she is.” Barret heaved a sigh. “She wanted me to make sure you hadn't gotten inta trouble.”

Cloud fished out his phone, and groaned at the amount of missed calls. He must not have felt it go off. He said, “No, I just–”

“You fell asleep?”

He nodded in reply. “Yeah, I just… long day, you know?”

Barret chuckled. “I feel that, man. I feel that.” He clapped Cloud on the shoulder, saying, “Well, if y'all need anything, you call, okay?”

“I will.”

With that, Barret left, his heavy footsteps echoing through the building. He turned around and called, “Y'all better call Tifa!” And then he was really gone.

Cloud closed the door, locking it this time. He sighed, then called, “You guys can come out now.”

Delfina and Spike poked their heads out of the kitchen. They still had their hats and goodies on, but they'd taken off their sunglasses. As expected, Delfina had an eyepatch covering her right eye. What wasn't shown in the sketch, though, were the clear scars around the patch. Like something with claws had raked across her face.

More striking were Spike’s eyes. They were blue, yes, but they glowed in an uncanny way. They were like bright pools of water, or…

Mako.

Cloud took a step back, then asked, “You're on Mako?”

Spike shrugged. “Not anymore. You seen it before?”

Cloud didn't reply. Delfina added, “He isn't doing anything too wild or crazy. I mean, considering what we do, at least.”

Spike hopped back onto the arm of the couch. “I'm sure you've seen some folks with Mako poisoning. Or those folks who get high on it. I'm proud to say I'm–” He stopped, then started counting on his fingers while he muttered. He finally asked, “Delfina, how long since that one time in Mideel?”

“It's been about six years, give or take.”

“Yeah. That.” He shrugged again. “But that was a uhh… a wild time.” He laughed a bit, continuing, “I got my fill of Mako for a lifetime.”

Cloud scowled. He had very little reason to believe Spike, but he had very little reason not to believe him. He rolled out his neck, feeling stiff from how he had napped. He asked, “How long till your friend comes around?”

Delfina walked around to the back of the couch, peering down at Dante. She prodded his cheek, and he grumbled in his sleep. “Not too much longer.”

“What happened to him, anyway?”

Delfina shrugged. “He's just very tired.”

Mmhmm. Yeah. And Cloud was the President of Shinra.

An awkward silence settled into the room, broken up by the sounds of Mayro. Cloud looked down at his phone, idly looking for something to distract himself with. He fired off a quick text to Tifa, telling her everything was fine (it wasn't), and then just… stared into the distance. Unsure what to do. Hurry up and wait, probably.

Dante finally stirred on the couch, grumbling as he opened his eyes. Cloud looked down at him, and greeted, “‘Sup.”

Dante squinted at him. He finally asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I live here. What are you doing here?”

“You live here?” Dante sat up and looked around. He finally said, “That tracks.”

Spike paused the game, then asked, “How you feeling?”

“Very confused. Cl–”

“Oh right, we have code names now.” Dante stared blankly at Spike as he continued, “I'm Spike, she's Delfina, and you're Dante.”

Dante continued to stare blankly at Spike, before turning to Delfina and asked, “Is he serious?”

She nodded in reply. “It seemed like a good idea.”

Dante laid back down on the couch, sighing, “Why am I not surprised?”

Cloud looked over the three of them, then said, “Cool, your friend is okay. Can you get out of my apartment?”

Dante studied Cloud, red eyes scanning over him. They had a glow similar to Spike's Mako eyes, but it was different enough. Mako junkies tended to glow blue or green, not red. Dante turned his attention back to his friends and asked, “Why are we here, anyway?”

Spike replied, “Window was unlocked, you needed a nap. Figured it was a good enough place.” Cloud made a mental note to lock his windows. Apparently being on the third floor wasn't enough to keep very determined pseudoburglars out. When Dante continued to stare at Cloud, Spike added, “We uhh. We didn't know he lived here.”

Dante's expression was unreadable. Halfway between concerned, disappointed, and just overall tired. He finally rose to his feet, saying, “Right. Where's my–” Before he could finish the thought, Delfina offered him a duffel bag. He rummaged through it briefly before pulling out a gun, the likes of which Cloud had never seen. Dante strapped it to his side, then swooshed his cloak around himself. “And I take it we–”

“Oh, don't worry, we made sure Cloudy boy wouldn't say a word to anyone.” Spike said, smile evident beneath his mask. “Both with money and with violence.”

Dante nodded in approval. He stalked over to Cloud, looming over him. Where Spike had the benefit of a giant sword, Dante just dripped with intimidation, never mind knowing he was strapped. He growled, “I'll take your word that–” He leaned forward, inches from Cloud's face, “... he won't speak a word to anyone about us. Else…” He reached for his gun.

Cloud drew his fingers across his lips, like he was zipping them. He then “locked” his lips, and “threw” the key over his shoulder.

Satisfied, Dante returned to the other two. He then asked, “Shall we?”

“We shall!” Delfina replied.

The three of them made their way to the door, and then out into the hallway. As they closed the door behind them, Cloud deflated, melting onto the floor with a heavy sigh.

God.

“The hell even was that…” he sighed.

After what felt like an eternity, he managed to clear his head enough to rise to his feet. First order of business: lock the windows. He made a pass through the apartment, locking the windows in each room. As he stopped in his bedroom, he remembered he had a goddamned fortune sitting in his pockets. Right?

He dug into his pockets, and pulled out the six bills. Ten thousand Gil. Dear Alexander that was a lot of money. He went to his desk, and slid out the hidden middle drawer. That was the safest place to keep things, really. Only he knew how to open it, and he kept a fake stash under his bed anyway for robbers to steal. A metal lock box filled with jingly jangly coins? Irresistible! Too bad it was full of 1 Gil coins.

No, the hidden middle drawer was where he kept his savings. And since the last time he sent money home, he'd saved about 2000 Gil. He laid the bills down at the bottom of the drawer, and covered it with the other coins he had saved. He'd need to send that home soon. Maybe tomorrow he'd get a courier to carry a nondescript parcel out to Nibelheim.

Right. What was he doing? Oh yeah, windows. He locked his bedroom window, then made his way into the bathroom. This window didn't lock, but it also didn't open. All that was left was the living room. He strode out into the living roo–

“Nice place you got here.”

Cloud jumped at the unfamiliar voice. Sitting on his couch was an unfamiliar man. Not quite “old”, but certainly getting there if his salt and pepper hair was anything to go off of. More upsetting was his choice of attire. A dark blue-black suit, with a pressed white shirt and a black tie.

A Turk.

Before Cloud could ask, the Turk said, “Door was unlocked.”

Oh god dammit, he should've locked the door after the trio had left. Why didn't he do that sooner? … oh right, he got distracted by windows and money.

Cloud asked, “Could you… I dunno, leave ?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Cloud stood in awkward silence, unsure what to do. He finally asked, “What um… What are you–”

“I'm looking for someone.”

“Oh, uhh–”

“I have it on good authority that you've seen that someone. Recently.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his breast pocket, offering it to Cloud. “Look it over.”

The paper was… old. Very old. The deep creases and wrinkles spoke to the age of the paper, and how it was kept. Opening it up, it was a photograph. An old Polaroid, faded with age, but the figures were still discernible. A man in a lab coat, slightly hunched over with greasy black hair and thick round glasses. A woman, also in a lab coat over a blouse and skirt, with her brown hair tied up into a ponytail with yellow ribbon. A third man, wearing a Turk uniform, gaze fixed and serious. It didn’t take too much thinking to realize he was the same man that was now in his apartment. And then a fourth man, with a shock of spiky blonde hair, a lab coat worn loosely over a very casual outfit, and…

Bright blue Mako infused eyes.

Cloud’s stomach dropped to the floor. Even without the disguising elements, it was clear that this was Spike. Written on the white part of the picture was, “Nibelheim J-Project, 1997”. Whatever that meant.

But still, Spike looked about the same as he did when he was just in the apartment not an hour ago. How could that be? This was thirty years ago, how could–

“His name is Nimbus Malay,” The Turk said. Cloud looked up at him. “Doctor Nimbus Malay. I believe he committed a murder.”

“Oh. Uhh–”

“The man on the far left, Dr. Satoshi Hojo.”

Cloud looked back down at the photo. Knowing that “Nimbus” or “Spike” or whoever he was had killed a man… actually made sense. After all, as soon as he’d stepped into his apartment, he’d pulled a giant sword on him. Cloud asked, “With a giant sword, right?”

The Turk smiled a bit. “So you did see him.” Cloud froze, unsure what to do. The Turk said, “I figured as much.”

Cloud whimpered, “They told me not to tell anyone.”

“And you didn’t tell me. Not in words, at least.” The Turk took the picture back. “That’s all I needed today.” He folded the picture up and placed it back into his pocket, then pulled out a business card and offered it.

Vincent Valentine, Senior Turk Admin, office 380-518-23, cell 830-201-64.

Cloud looked up, asking, “Is that your actual name?”

Mr. Valentine shrugged. “Unfortunately.”

Cloud looked back down, flipping the card over. The reverse was just a clearer version of the Shinra logo, along with the company motto. Cloud flipped it back over, before saying, “I don’t have a business card holder.”

Mr. Valentine snorted in reply. “I’m not offended, no.” Cloud shoved the card into his pocket. Mr. Valentine stood with a slight groan, saying, “If you see him again, I’d like you to let me know.”

“Umm…”

“I’m sure you can imagine why I’d like to know what he’s up to.”

It wasn’t too much of a stretch to fathom. “Spike” was there, thirty years ago, looking the same as he was earlier today. Under another assumed name, “Nimbus”. The man apparently had time travel abilities. And was using them for… some unknown reason. Or at least, unknown to him at this time. There had to be a good reason for why he’d go bouncing around time. An end goal. Right?

But at the same time, the idea of allowing a company exec to capture and harness the time powers seemed like a really bad idea. A really, really bad idea. Shinra could establish their empire so much sooner. Maybe go back in time and find another great source of Mako. Who knows what kind of hecked shit they could get to? And yet… there was a younger Mr. Valentine in that picture. Maybe…

Before Cloud could ask more, Mr. Valentine was heading out. He called behind him, “Lock your door this time.”

And just as quietly he had come in, he had left.

Chapter Text

The next few days were blurry, at best. The details paled in comparison to the hell day that was the day of the Sector 4 incident. Cloud was aware that he worked. That business in Wall Market continued as usual. That Sam was just as prickly as ever.

He'd talked to Tifa, just briefly. Telling her that he was fine, just tired. He didn't exactly want to tell her about the apparent time traveling murderer or his friends over the phone. That seemed like an “in person” discussion. That included the discussion with the Turk.

At some point, curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he'd called the two numbers listed. The office number went directly to voicemail, greeting in an automated voice, “You have reached the voicemail of–” and then Mr. Valentine's voice saying, “Vincent Valentine, administration affairs.” The automated voice then continued blathering before Cloud hung up. The cell number rang four times, before Mr. Valentine’s voicemail greeting kicked in, “If you have this number, text me.” Both voicemails were full. Cloud texted the cell number, informing him his voicemail was full. The only response was, “I'm currently busy. If this is an emergency, reply HELP.” Cloud didn't have the chutzpah to reply HELP.

For the most part, life was going back to normalcy. There were more public security goons, yes, but things were… normal. It wasn't until Cloud had a night off that he could go and decompress. And to him, that meant going to the Seventh Heaven to see his favorite bartender.

The Seventh Heaven was probably the best slum bar. Cloud wasn't sure what drew Tifa to bartending in the first place, but she took to it like a duck to swimming. The food, either made by her or under her direction, was great. It wasn't high end fancy living food, but they were the best smash burgers Cloud had ever had. The drinks were nothing to scoff at either, with the house special Cosmo Canyon and all. And that's not even mentioning the real draw for a lot of folks: Tifa herself. To the regulars, she was sweet, considerate. She would listen to whatever your worries were, and give good, solid advice. To anyone who didn't pay, or gave anyone on staff or otherwise shit, she would be the first to throw you through a table.

And Cloud had the illustrious privilege of being her best friend.

On seeing him enter, Tifa shouted, “Hey!” She finished shaking the drink she was working on, then continued, “Grab a seat at the bar, okay?” Cloud did as he was told, hopping onto the free stool. Tifa poured the drink, then set it in front of a rather scruffy looking patron. “What'll it be, Cloud?”

“Can I get the Cosmo?”

“Ooh, that's strong for you,” she teased as she reached for the bottles. “You finally gonna tell me what the hell happened?”

“Probably,” he replied.

The Cosmo was, of course, the bar special the Cosmo Canyon. It had some manner of vodka, some kind of cranberry, and a dash of pink Cosmo Canyon salt. It was sweet enough for Cloud's palette, but was stronger than his typical “appletini, light on tini”.

Tifa poured the drink into a glass garnished with the pink salt and placed it in front of Cloud. He took a sip as Tifa leaned in, saying, “So… what's the tea, Cloud?”

Before Cloud could start, Barret emerged from the kitchen, a bin of clean glasses in his hands. Barret set the glasses down and began putting them away. His right hand did have little grippy things to help grab dishes, but he still preferred handling the finery with his human hand. Once finished, he went about bussing the rest of the tables. He patted Cloud on the shoulder as he passed, saying, “Good to see you, man.“

Neither Tifa nor Cloud knew exactly what drew Barret to Midgar. He'd arrived about a year after they did, and made his presence known. You couldn't exactly ignore a guy with his build, and his gun arm prosthetic definitely stood out. When he was at work, doing whatever Tifa needed in the backend, he used his hand. If things got especially unruly or violent, though, out came Bertha.

No one fucks with Bertha.

Cloud downed his drink and started, “Okay. You remember how I called you, because of the bombing?”

“Yep. It was all over the news.”

“Yeah. I had a hell of a time getting home, and when I did… the guys who did it?” He leaned in and whispered, “They were in my apartment.”

“No suh!” Tifa exclaimed.

“I’m serious!” Cloud continued. “They were just… there!”

Barret hopped up onto the stool beside Cloud, setting the hint of dirty dishes on the bar in front of him, saying, “Awright, you gotta tell us all.”

“Okay, so. I walk in, and I hear, like, breathing, right? And I grabbed my bat, ready to clobber someone, when I see this guy sleeping on my couch. So I go to get him up when all of a sudden, there’s a giant sword against my throat.”

“A giant sword?” Barret asked.

“Yep. Just about as tall as their leader.”

“Shit, that sounds impractical.”

Tifa scoffed as she stood to fix Cloud another drink. “Barret, you have a gun for an arm.”

“Yeah but I can swap it out for a hand! Can't swap out a giant sword for a hand.”

“Fair enough.” Tifa poured the liquor Into the shaker, saying, “But still, a giant sword? What year is it again?”

“Some Wutaians still use swords, right?” Cloud asked.

“I guess? But it's like more about keeping the tradition alive.” Tifa started shaking the drink.

“This wasn't a prop or anything, either. This thing was sharp.” The fresh drink was placed in front of him, and he took a small sip of it, savoring the flavor. The first one was just to ease the social anxiety. This one? This one was for tasting. Cloud said, “The girl, Delfina, looked absolutely jacked. Like if she wanted, she could pick me up and break me over her knee.”

Barret asked, “What about tall, dark, and sleepy?”

“Dante? When he was asleep he didn't seem threatening; but once he was awake…” Cloud shuddered. “He had a gun and he looked like he knew how to use it. He dripped malice.”

“Come on, man, you just thought he was hot.”

Cloud scowled, feeling his face burning up. “Shut up.”

Tifa laughed, saying, “C’mon, Cloud, you have to admit you have a type.”

Cloud buried his face in his hands. “It’s not my fault every guy with a dark, malevolent aura is stupidly hot, okay?” The two shared a laugh at Cloud’s expense as he took another sip. He finally continued, “Look, let’s just say that sending them away wasn’t an option.”

“Sure, sure,” Tifa said. “Why'd they even pick your place in the first place?”

“... my window was unlocked…”

Barret slapped Cloud on the shoulder, saying, “Damn, I knew you weren't smart, but I didn't think you were stupid!”

“It's the third floor!”

“With a fire escape!” Barret sighed. “Rule 1 of living on the ground floor: lock your goddamned windows!”

“I thought that was “get some rest”. Wouldn't that be–”

“Look, rule 1 is whatever you make of it. It’s “take care of yoself”, but that can mean “watch your back for muggers”, or “rest up”, or “lock yo goddamn windows else people who blow up buildings’re gonna take up residence in yo house and threaten you with giant swords”. It’s versatile!”

Cloud groaned. “Look, I honestly didn’t think it was unlocked. And even if I was, it’s like… not connected to the fire escape? A different window is.”

“And you made sure you locked them now?” Tifa asked, scowling down on him.

“Yes, Tifa, I locked all my windows and all my doors.”

“And you'll never forget ever again?”

“I mean I can't guarant–” On seeing Tifa's glare turn deadly, he stopped and said, “I uhh I mean, yes, I won't forget.”

She nodded in approval. “Good.”

Cloud took another sip, his fingers starting to feel a bit wiggly. He continued, “They also told me not to tell anyone. But oops.” He laughed nervously. “Here I am.”

Tifa shrugged. “Blame it on the alcohol.”

Barret danced a bit in his seat as he continued the lyrics to himself. Cloud looked down into his drink. It didn't feel right to not tell them about the huge sum of money they paid him to keep quiet. Even if they were his best friends, the sheer sum that hid in his secret third drawer was enough to test any friendship.

“After you came by, Barret,” Cloud continued, “They left. And a Turk showed up.”

Barret immediately stopped dancing, glowering at Cloud. “Goddamn Shinra,” he muttered.

Tifa busied her hands with polishing a glass. Her gaze spoke of her hatred as well. She asked, “What did he want?”

“Info on one of them.”

“And you didn't tell ‘im nothing, did you?” Barret asked.

Cloud shook his head. “Nothing whatsoever.” Which was true, since he hadn't said anything. to Mr. Valentine. He’d only asked if he’d committed a murder with a giant sword. No big deal.

Barret laughed and clapped Cloud on the shoulder. “Atta boy!”

“But he… showed me something. Something…”

Barret scoffed. “Whatever it is, it's prolly lies. Y'all know how those Shinra bastards are.”

“Let Cloud finish,” Tifa chided.

Cloud took another sip of his drink, then continued, “He showed me a picture from 30 years ago. And it had one of them in it.”

Barret laughed. “And you believe that?” He asked. “That bastard's implying these guys've been around for decades?”

“No, it… it wasn't like he was older now. He was the same.”

Barret laughed again, doubling over. “So he's saying–hang on, hang on.” He couldn't even finish his sentence, overtaken by laughter as he was.

Tifa wrung her wrists, asking, “This Turk… is saying these people time traveled?” Cloud nodded. “That doesn't…”

Barret managed to stop laughing long enough to say, “Man, that's some wild shit there!”

Cloud finished his drink, and pushed the glass away. He said, “He thinks they killed someone. Some doctor or whatever.”

“Shit, if it were me?” Barret postured with his prosthetic arm, pretending it were a gun. “I'd go back and kill Mr. President before he could start this shit!”

Tifa poured Cloud a glass of water. “If it were me,” she said, “I think I'd do the same.”

“Yeah, but what if they couldn't? Or like they tried?” Cloud asked.

“Wait, hang on.” Barret held up a finger. “You actually believe they did this?”

To tell the truth, the picture itself was the only piece of evidence that suggested this possibility. And while the feel of the Polaroid spoke to its age, along with the creases, he knew for a fact that things could be forged. Artificially weathered. Photoshopped.

And yet, what would Valentine gain from making this forgery? He was shown next to this Hojo fellow, the guy who was supposedly murdered. That would put him at the same time and place as the murder, and who would want to do that? If he could doctor the image to put in some random schmo and weather it to make it look ancient, couldn't he also remove himself?

Cloud pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose, trying to fight the oncoming headache. He finally managed, “I don't know. It's too outlandish a concept to make up.”

Tifa started wiping down the bar while Barret said, “Shit, man. Next you'll tell me you believe the stars in Midgar are the most gorgeous you've ever seen.”

“What other option is there?” Tifa asked. “If the picture was real enough to believe, how else could this guy be back in the 90s and be now, and look exactly the same?”

“Maybe he's some Shinra experiment and he don't age,” Barret offered. “Still stupid. Can't take this shit serious, y'all.” He got up with a groan, saying, “Goddamn I'm too old for this.” He picked up his dishes and said, “Y'all have fun with your fantasy bullshit. I'm gonna go start on these.” And back into the kitchen he went.

Cloud finished the rest of his water, then gestured for another. He asked, “You believe me, right?”

Tifa handed him a fresh glass, considering her options. She finally said, “I believe… that strange people broke into your apartment. And a Turk showed you something upsetting.”

Cloud sighed, saying, “Thanks, Tifa.” It didn’t take an expert in Tifanese to realize that she didn’t believe him about the obvious thing he was asking about. He wasn’t sure which was worse, her veiled dismissal of the time traveling/never aging part of the story, or Barret actively mocking him about it. He downed the rest of his water, then asked, “Hey, you still know that delivery guy, right?” She nodded. “I need to send something home to Mom.”

Tifa’s expression turned to worry. She said, “This is a little earlier than your usual drop offs. Everything okay?”

Cloud shrugged. “Yeah, just picked up some extra scratch working for Madam M.”

“You sure? Your mom okay?”

He nodded. “She’s… I mean, as good as she ever is. The treatments are rough, but the folks in Cosmo Canyon are making her as comfortable as possible while she's there.”

Tifa gestured to his water glass, but he shook his head. “They haven't changed the price, have they?”

“Nope. Same as it's been since…”

He did what he could to stay positive despite the obvious reasons he was in Midgar. The specialized treatments she needed were expensive, and they weren't exactly rich. Prospec ts for gainful employment in Nibelheim were few and far between, with the only real “businesses” being family owned, and he wasn’t part of the family. And thus, he’d set out for the only place he could think of: Midgar.

Tifa rested her hand on his, drawing his attention out of the reverie he’d fallen into. With that same gentle smile of hers, she said, “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll get in touch with Marco about it, okay?”

“Thanks, Tifa.” He smiled up at her. “Has anyone ever told you you're the best friend anyone could ask for?”

“Not since last time we hung out, no.”

“Well, it's true.”

As Tifa went to go talk with Marco, Cloud fished out his phone and started idly scrolling through his messages. Nothing out of the ordinary, just his mom saying she loved him, a new high score from Wedge in some new arcade game, a message from Sam telling him not to come in, Jesse sending him a picture of some guy she met and saying he was single… Wait, what?

The message read, “Hey, it's Sam. The bombers issued a threat to Reactor 2, and PS is taking it seriously. Travel's limited, so I'm cutting you for the night.”

Cloud squinted, then started typing. “what? reactor 2? rly?”

Ping. “Realy.” Ping. “Really.*”

“shit”

Ping. “Yeah. Shit sucks.”

Cloud sighed, saying, “I got cut for the night.” He then typed back, “whenre they doin it?”

Ping. “Tomorrow.” Ping. A link to a news article, published by the Daily Buzz. Ping. “Here.”

“ew”

“Yeah it's the Buzz, but what can you do?”

“good thing i got adblock on my phone lol”

With that, he started reading. The details were apparently emailed to all press, with a video of the three assailants announcing their plans. Their rhetoric was painted as “insanity, extremist, and harmful to our way of life”, but that was the Buzz talking. The video itself showed the three pseudoburglars, their voices disguised and their figures obscured by their odd choice of attire. Even so, Cloud knew which of them was which.

The center most figure, slightly taller than the woman to his left and shorter than the man to his right, could be no one other than Spike. Or Nimbus. Or Greg. He boldly proclaimed, “We are Neo Avalanche, and we are here to break the chains of Shinra that bind us to their will!”

The woman, Delfina, added, “People of Midgar, we are not your enemy! It's Shinra that's hurting the planet.”

“To that end,” Spike continued, “We intend to destroy Reactor 2 tomorrow.”

There was an obvious cut to the footage, as Dante had shifted his pose in one frame to another. Wonder what they said that pissed off the Buzz. Regardless, Spike declared, “Please look forward to it!”

And then back to Buzz drivel.

Cloud sighed. He closed the tab, set his phone on the bar, and rested his head in his hands. Knowing his luck, he'd somehow get swept up in this incident. Possibly threatened with a giant sword. Or a gun. Or both. Regardless, he'd be in a pickle.

… but pickles aren't always a bad thing.

Maybe it was the liquor telling him that. Maybe it was the restless feeling that sat in him. Maybe he just wanted answers. But he knew where they'd be, and when. And he had questions. Who are they? Why are they doing this? Was the time travel mishigos real? And why?

“Hey Tifa?” Cloud asked.

“Mm?” She turned her attention back to him.

“You wanna go to Reactor 2?”

Chapter Text

The tension on the 7S-2U line was palpable. Train cars in Midgar, especially from the slums, weren't known for being quiet. There were people talking on the phone, or with each other. This train, though, was unnaturally quiet.

Cloud shifted his weight as the train rounded a corner. At this point, he had a feeling that he had done something very stupid.

… well, if he said that, Barret would have probably said, “No shit, Sherlock.”

And Tifa would say, “Noooo! Us, known members of the anti-Shinra cell AVALANCHE taking public transport to the known site of another anti-Shinra cell’s planned anti-Shinra attack? A bad idea?? Next you'll tell me the water in the slums tastes like rotten eggs!!”

And Jessie, who had gotten them the appropriate IDs and insisted on coming along, would say, “Nah, it'll be fun! Knock some Shinra skulls, help save the planet, it'll be great!” And she'd mean every word of it.

Cloud glanced over to his group. Barret was antsy, shifting in his seat, his meat hand drumming anxiously on his prosthetic. Sitting in his lap was a duffel bag that held his gunarm and any of the other goodies Jessie had stashed. And speaking of, she was sitting next to Barret, swaying with the train and humming tunelessly.

Tifa, meanwhile, was right next to him. She hissed to him, “I can't believe you talked me into this.”

“Tifa, I asked you if you wanted to do it and you asked when.”

“I thought you were joking!”

The train lurched around a corner, the tracks underneath jostling the car. Cloud grimaced as his stomach flipped around. “Tifa,” he replied, “I don't joke about having to take the train.”

Tifa fished through the many pockets on her belt. She finally procured a packet of mint gum, and offered a piece to Cloud. He gladly took it as she said, “Yeah, I know. You didn't take the motion sickness pills before?”

He shook his head as he chomped into the gum. “They make me sleepy.” He sighed as the mint worked Its way down to his stomach, soothing the tempest that was brewing down there. “Trains aren't that bad, usually…”

Tifa sighed, shifting her weight as the train continued its ascent around the central pillar. “I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited about it…”

Cloud dropped his head to his chest. Oop, bad idea. He instead tilted his head back to look at the roof of the traincar. “... Tifa, why are there advertisements on the ceiling?”

She looked up at the car advertisement above them. She scoffed. “Really?”

Cloud closed his eyes. Reading while moving only made the sickening slosh in his stomach worse. “‘Dreaming of an easier commute,’” Tifa read, “‘Try the new Model 7 Wagon’? Honest to God. Out of touch, much?” Cloud grumbled as the train continued to list and turn. The automated PA informed the passengers they were nearing the Sector 2 upper plate station. The sooner he could get off the train, the better.

Bing bong! A decidedly not-automated voice over the intercom croaked, “Due to a state of emergency, this train will be stopped for a brief search.” And sure enough, the train started to stop. “We apologize for any inconvenience.”

The passengers all groaned. Tifa muttered, “Just what we needed.”

Cloud glanced to the emergency exit of the train, considering if making a break for it was a good idea. That was until he saw a PS officer enter the train, holding his rifle at rest. Two more PSes arrived, and one of them shouted, “Alright, this is a routine search! Please cooperate so we can get you on your way.”

Cool. Great. Love it.

Barret hissed to Cloud, “The hell we gonna do? I got my arm in here, and that ain't the least of it!”

Before Cloud could respond, Jessie cut in. “Relax! I have a plan.” And to emphasize her having a plan, she did… Absolutely nothing.

The PSes made their way through the traincar, patting people down. Rifling through pockets. Opening bags. Tifa grimaced in anticipation of some macho PS getting a bit too handsy. She could floor him easily, but not with rifle guy staring at them.

Fortunately, the PSes got to Barret first. They reached for the bag, and pulled it out of Barret's hand when he tried to pull it back.

Time seemed to slow as the bag was opened. Cloud could imagine what was surely to happen. They see the gunarm. They arrest Barret. Tifa sticks up for him. She gets arrested. Jessie somehow gets arrested. They all end up in jail. At best.

No. No, that wasn't good.

But maybe it was fate smiling on them. Maybe it was Jessie's actual plan in practice. But as the bag opened, an indescribable smell rose from the bag. Under the helmet, the PS reached for his nose. “The hell is that?” he asked, incredulously.

“Gysahl pickles,” Jessie replied.

“... what?”

“Gyashl pickles! They're really popular down in Sector 7.”

“And they're just… in here?”

“Well, the smell leeches from the jars when they're really good. The worse they smell, the better they taste.”

Barret looked down at the bag, presumably filled with pickles. He looked back at the PS and replied, “Y-yeah! They wake you right up!”

“Why do you have so many??” The PS asked.

Seeing Barret floundering, Tifa chimed in, “We sell them! Some topsiders, uhh, like the idea of trying slum food! Without, you know, going to the slums.”

The officer looked over the three of them, then to Cloud. Despite the helmet, the face he had was obviously asking, “You hearin’ this shit?” Cloud glanced to his friends, the desperation on their faces. He cleared his throat, and said, “Can’t start my day without them.”

Seemingly satisfied, the officer zipped the duffel bag and continued on his way, looking through other bags. The team collectively exhaled. Crisis averted.

It took another half hour or so for the train to be thoroughly searched. By that time, Cloud’s stomach butterflies were able to settle. They’re really doing this. … whatever this was. The plan amounted to sneaking through the Reactor, riding on the hope that “Neo-AVALANCHE” had cleared out security. Find Neo-AVALANCHE, and… talk to them about the allegations that one of them was a time traveler.

…

Cloud whispered to Tifa, “This is a bad idea.”

Tifa slowly turned to him, her glare icy. “Do not tell me you want to go home.”

He didn’t, then. He thought really hard about it. But he didn't. 

Bing bong! The decidedly unautomated voice came over the loudspeaker, saying, “Thank you for your cooperation. We apologize for the delay. The train shall be departing to the Sector 2 plate station shortly.”

Cloud never thought he'd be happy to feel himself moving in a train. As the train lurched forward, Barret demanded, “Gysahl pickles? Really?”

Jessie nodded. “Yup! Delicious and stinky.”

Barret groaned as he shook his head. “God damn, that's smart.”

The rest of the ride was uneventful. The tension in the train had turned from palpable to practically its own person playing the saxophone. Unavoidable. Obnoxious. Crawling under Cloud's skin. As the train pulled in to the station and its passengers started readying to leave, Tifa said, “We just… get in there. And… talk.”

“Yup,” Cloud replied. He grimaced as his stomach started flipping again. “And get some answers.”

“And knock some skulls?” Barret asked as he leaned forward. “Please tell me part of the plan is knocking some Shinra skulls.”

Tifa chuckled, if only to break the tension. “A little skull knocking's been earned.”

Cloud wasn't looking forward to that part.

Chapter Text

“How did this happen?” Cloud asked. The cell he found himself in was silent in response. Tifa, Barret, and Jessie were in different cells, unable to respond.

Even though no one could hear him, he knew the answer. He knew what he'd done.

They'd gotten off the train, armed with a duffel bag full of pickles and a half-baked plan. And they'd stowed the pickles in a locker Jessie was renting, so that they wouldn't be burdened by heavy glass and stinky gysahl greens. Before they did, Barret had pulled his gunarm attachment on. Jessie and Cloud each had small pistols, and Tifa had fists of steel. They were as ready as they ever would be.

Despite the “tight” security, they were able to find a way in. And by “tight”, Cloud meant that Tifa distracted them.

“We just can't read this map!” Tifa had said, bending over a paper map. “Oh I'm just so confused!!” Even the straightest of women, Cloud figured, couldn't resist looking. And once the three others slunk past the distracted guards, Tifa lifted one of their security passes and helped herself inside. Once they were out of earshot, she shuddered, “Kill me.”

“Sorry, Teef,” Jessie teased, “Not my fault you got the biggest naturals this side of the Saucer.”

“You can have them,” Tifa grumbled as the four of them ventured on. “They're a blessing and a curse.”

Barret and Cloud had exchanged glances, both of them deciding not to comment on the size of Tifa's chest. They valued their lives.

Based on the schematics that Jessie had gotten, and the threat that “Neo-AVALANCHE” had issued, they would be down at Mako storage. The literal bowels of the reactor. The belly of the beast. If anyone were to destroy the reactor, it would start there. As Jessie beeped her ill-gotten keycard on the console to get there, the terminal buzzed in response, saying, “Mako storage has reached capacity for personnel. Please enter override code.”

“Shit.” Jessie started typing at the console. “Safety measure. Needs managerial override.”

Buzz. “Please enter override code.” Takataka, buzz. “Please enter override code.” Takataka, buzz. “Please enter override code.”

Jessie growled in frustration. “Nothing's working.” Takataka, buzz. She waggled her head and chomped on her lip as the terminal buzzed in error, mimicking the error. “Piece of shi–”

“Managerial override aborted. Opening door.”

And with a loud hiss, the door opened. “Swearing works,” Jessie mused. “Got to try that on more Shinra junk.”

The first thing Cloud noticed about Mako storage was the smell. It was a mix of petrichor, ocean air, fresh cut grass, and old books. On its own, it would be considered “pleasant”, but it just lingered cloyingly in his nostrils. Inescapable, all consuming, and starting to give him a headache. And the surrounding machinery made the smell even more strange. He couldn't shake the feeling he was smelling something that shouldn't be smelled.

The second thing Cloud noticed about Mako storage was the bodies.

Tifa gasped, “Oh my god!” Lying on the floor were three PSOs, a green aura surrounding them and a pool of red blood beneath them. Cloud felt a pit form in his stomach, and suddenly felt that he should run.

Barret approached the bodies, kicking them over. One of them had nearly been bisected, going from shoulder to hip.. Cloud grimaced and looked away. He’d seen blood and bodies and the ilk before, yeah. You couldn’t live in Midgar without seeing shit like this. But there was something too gruesome about how fresh this was. Something so… upsetting. He managed to look back as Barret went to inspect the other two. The second had been neatly shot in the forehead, the bullet piercing the helmet easily. And the third had been bent in an unnatural way, his legs crumpled under his body and his back snapped.

“By the Knights…” Jessie swore.

Tifa knelt down by the bodies, inspecting them further. She asked, “Cloud, you said they had–”

“A sword,” Cloud replied. “Spike had a sword. Dante had a gun. And–”

“Apparently, the girl can suplex people so hard she breaks their spines,” Barret added. “Damn.”

“I mean, she didn’t look like she could suplex people so hard she could break their spine.”

Before Cloud could further muse on how Delfina had managed to apparently suplex a man so hard that she broke his spine, gunfire erupted further down into Mako storage. The four of them whipped around in that direction. It was automatic gunfire, mixed with shouting.

Against literally every nerve screaming, “By Alexander and all His Knights, run for your life,” Cloud decided to go towards the gunfire. As his friends followed behind him, he found himself asking, “What the hell am I doing?”

Down the hallway, in the direction of the gunfire, he could hear someone barking, “Surrender!!”

And in reply, he heard Spike shouting, “No, you!”

Another burst of gunfire, clattering against metal. The authoritarian voice shouted again, “Drop the weapon!”

The four intrepid adventurers finally arrived in a large, open chamber in the depths of the reactor. It had a railing, and over the edge was a pool of Mako. Swirling, ethereal, liquid Mako. Cloud's attention was wrenched away by the authoritative voice, shouting, “You! You're with them?!”

Cloud and company stood, dumbfounded. The man in question was a PSO, but in a red uniform. Higher ranking by far. His attention was split, between the four newcomers and the man on the other side of him. Spike. Spike, with his hood down and his sunglasses off, revealing unnaturally spiky hair and glowing blue eyes.

Upon seeing the four of them, Spike asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to ask that every time you see me?”

“Are you gonna keep showing up in places I don't expect you to be?”

The red-clad PSO swiveled between the two groups. He finally settled on the larger group, shouting, “You! Leave this area immediately!!”

Barret pointed his gun arm at him, shouting, “Y'all don't know who you're messing with!!” Tifa dropped into a battle stance, and Jessie pulled out her gun. “We're AVALANCHE, and we–”

Before he could finish, a single gunshot rang out, the explosion rattling through the metal infrastructure. The PSO dropped to the ground, and behind him, next to Spike, was the unmistakable looming figure of Dante.

“Shit,” Barret swore. “Didn't even let me finish being cool.”

Spike turned his attention back to his tall, dark, and lanky friend, saying, “Nice shot.”

Dante didn't reply, instead surveying the group of four. He asked, “What are they doing here?”

Spike cried out, “I don't know! I asked and I got a smarmy answer!” He turned back to them and again asked, “What are you doing here?!”

Barret shouted, “We're here to help blow up this joint!”

“Yeah!” Jessie added.

Spike looked at Dante and asked, “Bomb set?” Dante nodded. He turned back to the party. “Bomb set. We're good. Now go.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Git.”

Tifa stepped forward, gently pushing Cloud forward. Right. He's the reason they're here. He cleared his throat, then said, “I um. I wanted to talk to you. About… Something.”

Spike and Dante exchanged glances, before Spike asked, “Am I to… Am I understanding that you… Came here, to… Talk. To me.”

Cloud nodded.

Dante let out a long sigh, then turned around and went back the way he came. He called out, “I'm going to secure egress. Delfina and I'll catch up.”

Spike called back, “Have fun!” He then turned his attention back to the four of them. He scratched the back of his head, then asked, “Is… Was that all?”

Cloud nodded again. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. This was stupid. This was so, so stupid. Impossibly stupid.

Spike cleared his throat, then asked, “So, um. What do you want to know?”

Tifa stepped forward then, probably in an attempt to lessen the load on Cloud's shoulders. She said, “We um. We heard that you… and maybe your friends? Um… that you… killed a man.”

Spike gestured at the dead body in front of him.

“No, um… a…” She turned to Cloud and asked, “What was he again?”

“A scientist. And it happened 30 years ago.”

The temperature seemed to drop, then. The air had felt chill before, like standing next to the ocean. But the mention of the scientist made it feel like a snowstorm was looming.

Spike asked, “Where did you hear that from?”

Cloud swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat. He suddenly found himself very thirsty. “A um…” He scratched at the back of his head. “A friend?”

“A “friend”.” Spike repeated. He stepped forward, his boots heavy on the metal floor. “What else did your “friend” tell you?”

Cloud backed away. Or at least he tried to. There was a wall back there. Thankfully, Jessie stepped forward, stepping between him and Spike. “He said you haven't aged a day.” Cloud squeaked.

“Really, now?” Spike mused. He rested his hand on Jessie's shoulder, then pushed her out of the way. Before he could get any closer, Barret took her place, aiming his gun at him. Spike considered the weapon, before turning back to Cloud and continuing, “But how would your “friend” know about me?”

“S-saw you leave my building?”

“Mmhmm. What about–” He placed a pointer finger on Barret's gun. “Barret? How'd he know? He was in Sector 7.” He paused, then looked over his shoulder. “In fact, Tifa and Jessie were there, too, weren’t they?” Cloud tried to back further away, tried to look for an out, but instead found the wall behind him unyielding. And if he were to shimmy towards the door, it would mean that Barret wasn't between him and Spike anymore. “Now, Barret and Jessie? I could say they're here to blow the reactor. But Tifa?” Spike clicked his tongue. “I thought we said not to breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“H-he was drunk!” Tifa offered. “He was… Three Cosmo Canyons deep!”

Spike chuckled. “Three?” He asked. Tifa nodded. “That's a lot of booze for you, ain't it, Cloud?” Spike raised his hands, and backed away from Barret. “No worries. Can't keep secrets forever. We all know what happens when you try.”

Tifa stared at him, then coughed and asked, “How do… How do you know our names?”

Spike froze in place, eyes wide. He then shouted, “Delfina! We ready for an exit?”

From deeper in the reactor, Delfina shouted, “Waiting on you!”

Spike backed away from the four of them, saying, “Wow, would you look at the time. I gotta go.” From behind them, Cloud could hear thundering footsteps. Spike stepped up on the safety railing, shot them some fingerguns with a wink, and said, “Have fun!” With that, Spike hopped backwards off the railing.

Before anyone could even run up to check and see what the hell he'd done, the thundering footsteps stopped. “Freeze!!” An authoritative voice shouted. “Hands in the air!”

Cloud turned towards the entryway. About twenty PSOs had covered the hallway, guns trained on the four of them. They were led by a red PSO, the one barking orders.

“Shit…” Barret swore.

The four of them raised their hands in surrender. There was no way they could take them.

The rest between the reactor and here, the prison cell he found himself in, was a blur. A flurry of trains, rifles prodding him in directions, elevators, bright lights, and more people barking orders at him.

Cloud rolled over in the small cot he was in. He couldn't help but think about the last thing Tifa had asked. How had Spike known their names? In fact, he'd known his name even back when they broke into his apartment. And not just his name. The three of them seemed surprised to see him specifically. He'd thought it was just, “Oh, there's someone in this empty house,” surprise, but instead it now felt more, “Oh my god he’s here.” Like they expected him specifically to be somewhere else.

But the question remained, why did they know him? How did they know him? How did they know him so deeply that they could be surprised by him being somewhere they didn't expect him to be?

“My head hurts…” Cloud groaned, rolling over and pressing his head into the pillow. The whole thing was getting stupid. … going to the reactor was stupid.

From outside the cell, there was an automated voice. It chimed, “Error. Rescan biometrics.” A beep, then, “Confirmed biometrics for: Vincent. Valentine.”

Shit.

Shortly afterwards, Cloud's steel cell door slid open. Mr. Valentine walked in, a scowl on his face and bags under his eyes. Before Cloud could speak, he growled, “What the hell were you doing?”

Cloud sat up and shrugged. “Going to talk to Neo-AVALANCHE.” Mr. Valentine leaned against the wall and stifled a yawn. “You uhh–” Cloud started.

“I just woke up.”

“... it's–”

“I know what time it is.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Part of being a Turk. Sleep schedule is shit.” He shook his head, as though to shake the sleep from his head. “Was your talk at least fruitful?”

“... Spike seemed alarmed that I knew about the uhh… murder. And umm…” Mr. Valentine gestured for him to continue. “He uhh… He knew our names.”

“”Our” names?”

“Y-yeah.” Cloud scratched at the back of his head. “Mine, and Tifa's, and Barret's, and Jessie's.”

Mr. Valentine nodded as he pulled out a small notepad and pencil. He started writing, then asked, “Anything else?” Cloud shook his head. “... Better than nothing.” He put the notebook back into his jacket pocket, then crossed his arms. “I might be able to get you out of here, since you're technically an informant. You'd be under surveillance in case they cross paths with you again.”

“... What about–”

“Your friends?” Cloud nodded, and Mr. Valentine sighed. “That, I'm not sure. They're known for being in AVALANCHE, they don’t have any information that you yourself don’t have…” Mr. Valentine looked down at his feet, then back up at Cloud. “I don’t like to make promises I can’t keep.”

Cloud nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest. “... There’s… They’re gonna…”

Mr. Valentine nodded. That's all that he needed to do. Cloud already knew, they were boned. Cloud pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He mumbled, “I… I shouldn't have done this.”

“... I…” Mr. Valentine shifted, then looked away. “I can try, but… If not…” He looked back to Cloud. “I can at least arrange a meeting.” A final meeting. Cloud slumped further into himself, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes. Without another word, Mr. Valentine left, leaving him alone in the painful silence.

The metal infrastructure offered no comfort. A very thin blanket did nothing for him. The lights above buzzed indifferently, the only sound aside from the distant whirring of machinery. Cloud curled up tighter, flopping over onto his side. There was an air vent in the room, but it was tiny, barred off, and way up high. The cot and toilet were anchored to the walls, meaning he couldn't swing them around or anything.

He was trapped.

Cloud burrowed deeper into the poor excuse of a blanket. The best he could hope for was a miracle.

Yeah. Right. Like that would happen.

Chapter Text

The air smelled like fresh pine, crisp and clean. He didn't know why, but he was running. Tifa was holding his hand, and he was running with her. Where? Home. Why? … Why, indeed?

“It’s that dream again,” Cloud found himself saying. Despite the lucidity of the dream, he knew that he needed to keep running. The rocky path of Mt. Nibel sprawled before him, leading back down to the town. Tears were streaming down Tifa’s face as they ran.

Tifa looked back behind them, past the tall trees and the rocks. She cried out, “The monster’s still after us!”

Cloud stopped in his tracks, allowing Tifa to run ahead of him. Monster? That must be the Something. “I know I’m dreaming,” he said. He turned back towards the Something. “And I know that I can wake up from this.”

The sky above grew dark and thunder rolled in the distance. Cloud went to cross his arms, but couldn't. He looked down, and saw that he was suddenly hanging off a cliff. Holding on to his left arm was Tifa, absolutely beside herself with fear. Cloud looked up to where he was holding on. His fingers dug into the rock, but he was slipping. And slipping, and–

A black claw reached out and grabbed onto his arm, with gleaming ebony talons digging into the flesh of his arm for purchase. The Something was above him, radiating an aura of dread. This was not something to be seen. Cloud squinted at the whirl of darkness that seemed to be the Something, but saw nothing discernable. It was darkness with claws and two glowing yellow points where its eyes should be.

And then…

… he was back at his house in Nibelheim. In his bed. He looked at his arm and saw that it had been bandaged. … bandaged with bacon, apparently.

Cloud snapped awake. The absurdity of bacon treating claw wounds from a Something must have woken him. He looked down at his right arm, the one that had been grabbed by the Something. And in the thick part of his arm were matching scars. Four in close proximity. One on the opposite side. Precisely where those ebon claws had grabbed him.

So not just a recurring dream. A memory .

Cloud hunched over, trying to clear his mind. He had a million thoughts, a billion questions, and absolutely no way to put them into words. Tifa was there. His mother was there. Or at least, he figured she would’ve been. Maybe he’ll use his one phone call to call home and ask her about it. … that seemed like a waste, though. And something that would make her worry. “Hey Mom I'm in prison but I want to ask you about some weird dream memory thing.” Pfft, yeah right.

His reverie was cut short by an automated voice. “Error. Rescan biometrics. … Error. Rescan biom–Error. Re–Error. Re-Error. Rescan biometrics.” There was a pause, then, “Confirmed biometrics for: Vincent. Valentine.”

Shit. He's back.

Cloud tucked himself back under his blanket. He really didn’t want to talk to any Turks today. Especially not Mr. Valentine. He heard his door swish open, but before he could tell him to buzz off, a man's voice said, “C'mon. Get up.”

Cloud peeked out from under his blanket to see… “Dante?”

Dante was dressed in a Turk's uniform, with his hair pulled into a messy bun. He was unmistakable, even without his cool boots or sick cape. And he had a scowl on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Cloud asked.

“What does it look like?” He asked as he held the door open. “Get up. We're on a schedule.” When Cloud didn't immediately rise, Dante sighed and said, “Don't make me drag you.”

“What about–” Before Cloud could finish, Dante stalked out of the room, leaving the door open. “... the others…” Cloud trailed off.

He stood up off the cot and ventured Into the hallway, looking both ways. On one end was a Shinra PSO, standing at ease. On the other hand was Dante, jamming his thumb into a biometric scanner. “Error. Re-” He jammed his thumb harder. “Error. Re-” He licked his thumb and tried again. “Confirmed biometrics for. Vincent. Valentine.” And the door opened, and he slunk inside.

Cloud crept down the hallway, trying to ignore the feeling of dread building in him. He could hear Tifa's voice coming from the room Dante had stalked into. As Cloud got closer, he could hear her asking, “... do you mean?”

And Dante's growled reply, “I mean you can either stay here and get shoved in a gas chamber, or you can come with me.”

He slunk out of the room, then across the hall to another room. As he battled with the scanner, Tifa emerged. And on seeing Cloud, she ran for him and gave him a hug. She then grabbed his face and asked, “Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I'm okay.” He mimicked the action, holding her face. “And you?”

“Fine. Just–” She looked behind him as Dante continued slamming his thumb onto the reader. She shook her head, saying, “I'm just shaken.”

Dante finally managed to get the door open and stepped into presumably Barret's cell. And unlike Tifa, Barret was loud enough to hear. “The hell you doin’ here?!”

Cloud couldn't hear Dante's reply.

“What?!”

…

“Goddam–I heard you the first time!”

…

“... what?! Why? How?”

…

“... sheeit…”

…

“Awright. Let’s go.”

And with that, the two of them emerged from Barret's cell. He waved in greeting. Dante grabbed Cloud and Tifa's shoulders and began to steer them towards the PSO at the end of the hallway. He said, “When I tell you to do something, do it. No questions. We can ask questions later. Do you understand?”

Cloud nodded. Tifa started to say something, but changed her mind. Barret laughed and said, “As long as we get outta here.”

Wait. Cloud looked behind him. “Where's Jessie?”

“Already out,” Dante replied. “Separate unrelated operation.”

At the end of the hallway, the PSO saluted. She then said, “Sir! We are within appropriate timelines!” And then handed Dante a duffel bag.

Dante slung it over his left shoulder. “Good. I'll see you downstairs.”

“Yes, sir!” Another salute.

Dante stared down at her, then asked, “Is that… Necessary?”

“No sir, but it's fun, sir!!”

“... Right.” He then directed the three of them further down the hallway.

Whatever floor they were on was a warren of offices and cubicles, half empty. What people were there were engrossed wholly in their work, transfixed by glowing blue screens. Dante navigated the warren with ease, only turning back to keep the trio in eyesight. He pressed a finger to his lips as they passed by a conference room full of people, eyes glazed over at what was presumably a very, very boring meeting.

At the elevator bay, Dante again pressed his thumb against a biometric scanner. “Error. Rescan biometrics.” He tried again. Error. He sighed, shook out his hand, and tried again. Error. He swore under his breath, licked his thumb, and tried again. “Confirmed biometrics for: Vincent. Valentine. Calling elevator.”

Cloud started to ask, “Why do–”

“ Later. ” Dante replied. Cloud began to protest, but was silenced by an exasperated sigh. “Right now, we need to focus on getting you out of the building. We’ll talk about how we did it after we do it , alright?”

The elevator dinged, and the door slid open. The automated voice chimed, “Arriving at: Floor 67. Going down.” Dante shepherded the three of them in, then pressed the button for B1.

As the elevator descended, Dante pulled off his tie and blazer. He shoved them into the duffel bag, then pulled out two tan jumpsuits and a third dark blue one. He handed them out, ordered, “Put these on,” then pulled out a fourth, tan jumpsuit for himself.

“What’re these?” Tifa asked as she flipped the fabric over.

“Company issued maintenance coveralls,” Dante replied.

Cloud shrugged and pulled his on. Surprisingly comfortable! Barret growled, “Why’s mine different?”

“Had to use an older style for yours, big guy,” Dante replied. He fished into the bag and procured four hats that matched the jumpsuits. “Put these on.”

“And lemme guess, mine’s a bigger size?”

“Not my fault you’ve got a big head.” Dante undid his ponytail with one hand, then ruffled out his hair before putting his hat on. He then paused, then looked at Tifa and asked, “Would you mind doing something different with your hair?” Tifa pulled off her hat and undid the barrette that held her hair in place. She stowed it in her breast pocket, then simply let her hair hang loose. He handed her his elastic and said, “Something different , please.” She grimaced at the elastic, then sighed and pulled her hair into a loose, messy bun. “Thank you.”

“You better not have lice or anything,” Tifa muttered.

The doors opened in a parking garage. Dante led them out, down a hall, then into the stairwell. Leaning against a wall was a stepladder, along with some paint cans. He asked, “Who wants to help me with the ladder?” Cloud raised his hand. “Great.” Dante shoved the ladder into his hands. He then handed a can each to Tifa and Barret. He hoisted the ladder with his right hand, then lead them further down the stairs, then into a hallway, and into another elevator. Dante leaned back and poked the up button with his toe. As they waited, he asked, “How much Wutaian do you speak?”

“The hell kinda question's that?” Barret asked.

“Perfect. Imagine everyone up there is speaking Wutaian.”

Ding. The elevator opened, and they stepped inside. Dante swung his left arm up and slapped the 1st floor button. Cloud noted the strange metallic clang of his arm.

Up they went, to the first floor. The grandiose lobby spoke volumes to Shinra’s wealth. Barret started to growl in displeasure, but Dante shot him a look, silencing him. They weaved through assorted employees, associates. Businessmen. Soldiers. Everyone gave them a wide berth. Someone even held the door open for them as they made their way to the exit. Dante muttered a quiet “thank you”. … or at least, Cloud thought he did. It sounded like Wutaian.

Outside, they made their way to an external carpark. Parked there was a utility truck. Dante brought them up to the wall, said, “Leave the ladder and paint here.” They did so. Dante then rapped on the back of the truck three times. The door unlocked, and Dante gestured for them to get in.

“Where–” Cloud started.

“ Later , Cloud.” Dante growled.

The three of them piled into the back seat, while Dante pulled himself into the shotgun seat. Sitting up front was a PSO. As Tifa went to protest, the PSO saluted and said, “Sir, ready to drive, sir!” It was the same one from earlier.

Dante barked out a laugh. “You really like doing that, don’t you?”

“Sir, yes, sir!!”

“Alright, both hands on the wheel, trooper.” The trooper pulled out onto the highway. Dante exhaled, then said, “Alright, question away.” Cloud, Barret, and Tifa all started talking at once. “One at a time,” Dante warned.

Cloud raised his hand, then asked, “Where are we going?”

“Kalm. We know a guy.”

Tifa asked, “Where’s Jessie?”

“Back in Sector 7. We cut a deal with AVALANCHE HQ.”

“And why didn't they want us? ” Barret asked.

The PSO spoke up, saying, “Jessie's technical knowledge and connections with the enemy made her more valuable. Besides, we wanted you.”

“... and… You are…?” Cloud asked.

“Neo-AVALANCHE,” the two of them spoke in unison.

“How do you know our names?” Tifa leaned forward.

“Can't get too into it right now, but let's just say we're invested in your happiness and prosperity.”

Barret grimaced. He asked, “You think we'll be able to get back to Sector 7?”

Dante and the PSO shared glances. Cloud couldn't be sure, since she had a helmet, but if she was Neo-AVALANCHE, she could only be Delfina. She finally said, “We don't know. We hope so, but…” She sighed.

Cloud shifted in his seat. He asked, “Dante, how can you use Mr. Valentine's biometrics?”

“I made a silicone mold of his thumb and put it over my own. … Gives me trouble because of the cold fingers I've got.”

“Hence the licking?”

Delfina slowly turned towards Dante. “ Please tell me you didn't.”

“I didn't.”

“You're lying.”

“I am.”

Cloud could hear Delfina rolling her eye. As they rounded a corner, his stomach churned. Before he could ask, Dante handed him some mint gum. “Thanks.” He popped the gum in his mouth.

“So wait a minute,” Barret started. “Y'all are “invested” in our “happiness and prosperity”? Why? … Does it have somethin’ to do with that whole time travel bullshit?”

The two of them sat in silence, glancing at each other. Delfina took a deep breath, then asked, “What… What precisely do you know about…?”

Tifa squirmed, then started, “We… That Turk guy told Cloud that Spike killed a scientist, thirty years ago.”

Dante snorted. Delfina slapped his shoulder. “Go on, Tifa. Anything else?” She asked.

“I saw the picture,” Cloud started. “Nibelheim. J-Project. 1997. And Spike was there, and he looked exactly the same.”

Delfina looked at Dante, and he shrugged. “That tracks.” He sighed. “Nothing different there.”

Satisfied, Delifna said, “Yes, he was there. All three of us were.”

“Why?” Cloud asked.

“That is a long story,” Delfina replied. She started to turn off the highway. “It would take a lot longer than we have to go into it.”

“Longer than a drive to Kalm?” Barret asked.

“Longer than a drive to Kalm.” Delfina continued on, pointedly ignoring any attempts from the people in her back seat to bring it back up.

She finally parked the van in a nondescript parking lot. Dante got out and said, “Alright, out you go.”

“This isn't Kalm,” Tifa remarked.

“Vehicle swap.” Dante pulled open the van door. “Still on a schedule.” Cloud and company got out of the van. The fresh air was a great relief. Dante stripped off his jumpsuit, then said, “Take those off. Tifa, go ahead and get back into your regular hair. … I'll need the tie back.”

As the group stripped, Delfina popped out and began removing her soldier uniform. Cloud found himself staring. She'd elected to wear a tank top and shorts under the uniform, showing off that she was ripped. Like, she looked like she could pick Cloud up and break him in half. Like if she suplexed him, she could snap his spine. She floomfed out her long, dark brown hair, before pulling it back up and pulling it under a hat. She then grabbed a hoodie from the van and pulled that on. As she turned around, Cloud saw her face, sans mask or eyepatch. Down the right side of her face, across her right eye, were four long scars. Like something had raked its claws across her face. … No, not something. It looked like… The Something from his dream. Those same scars…

Dante slapped him on the shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. He said, “Rude to stare, Cloud.”

“Sorry…” he mumbled.

Dante collected the assorted uniforms and tossed them into the back of the van. He shepherded the group over to a different, unbranded van. But before they could get in, Delfina returned from the van with a cooler. She handed out some juice boxes and sandwiches wrapped in plastic wrap. “I got ham and cheese for you guys,” she said, “And turkey for you, Cloud.”

“... You guys know me well enough–” Cloud started.

“That you've got a weird thing with ham?” Dante offered. He grabbed his sandwich and asked, “Delfina, can you get this for me?”

She scoffed. “Really?”

“You know plastic wrap’s tricky.”

She took the sandwich and started unwrapping the plastic wrap. “You know I'm just giving you shit, right?” She looked over at Barret and asked, “You need a hand, too?”

Barret rolled his eyes. “Yeah, haha. Had your fill of hand jokes yet?”

“I'm being serious. Plastic wrap’s hard with one hand.” She glanced at Dante, “You were right. Should've used those zip baggies instead.”

“They're hard either way.” Dante went and rested his left arm on Barret's shoulder. “No hard feelings.”

Barret considered the hand, then laughed. “Shit, you too?” Dante nodded. “Damn! Got a pair of good hands between us.” He handed the sandwich over to Delfina, allowing her to unwrap it for him. As he chomped, he asked, “So what're we waiting for?”

“The distraction,” Delfina replied. “And he's late.”

“Not late. Running on Spike time.” Dante leaned up against the back of the new van. “He'll be here eventually.”

As Dante, Delfina, and Barret started chatting about their respective missing body parts, Cloud pulled away. Way too peopley. And he needed to… Process. The revelation. He looked down at his right arm, considering the scars. rs on his wrist. Four long ones, and a fifth on the other side. Claw marks. He looked up at Delfina, who had by this point pulled on an eyepatch to cover the scar on her face. The tail ends were still visible. They were different from his. Probably a different motion that caused them. His were from being grabbed. Hers… he couldn’t even begin to think.

Tifa leaned up next to him, exhaling as she considered her juice box. “I haven’t had an Elixir fruity juice in ages,” she said. “Remember when we were kids, and all the adults in town would be out drinking, and your mom would open up her little minifridge and give us these, and tell us they were wine?”

Cloud looked down at the box. The logo had updated, ever so slightly, but it still looked like those same juice boxes. “And your dad would spin us around until we got dizzy so that we actually felt drunk?” He added.

Tifa laughed, doubling over. “God, I’d forgotten about that part!”

“I don’t blame you. You took some pretty nasty knocks when we got “drunk”.”

“I mean, I insisted on wearing those flimsy little sandals, right? And those cobblestones got slippery ! I’m surprised I just conked my head, and didn’t break my ankle or something!”

He chuckled in reply, looking up at the sky. Here, at the edge of the plate, he could just see the sky. “How long’s it been since we moved out here? How long’s it been since we’ve seen the real sky?”

She sighed wistfully, looking out to the horizon with him. “It’s been… five years, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah… that sounds right.”

“You nervous?”

“About?”

“I dunno, new town? Seeing the sky again?” She took a sip of juice. “You just look like you've got a lot on your mind.”

Cloud looked down at his arm. He turned his wrist around, inspecting the scars. He asked, “Do you… Remember how I got this?”

She cocked her head, then took his arm in her hand to look it over. She furrowed her brow. “Not all the details,” she said at length. “I remember… maybe a month after my mom got sick, I went out into the mountains to hunt down my cat. You came with me.” She ran her fingers along the scar. “I remember waking up at home, fine except for being sore. I've got something like that on my ankle.”

“Really?”

Tifa rolled down her sock to reveal similar scars on her left ankle. She said, “My dad found us in a heap in the town square, with your arm bandaged, my leg bandaged, and Fluffy’s mangled body on top of us.” She rolled back up her sock. “Dad said they looked like monster claws. Like she’d just been–” She made a clawing motion with her hand. “Gotten, like this.”

Cloud continued to look over his arm. That… would make sense. The Something was hunting them. Chasing them. And then they’d fallen off the cliff, and…

Before he could finish the thought, the roar of a motorcycle drew closer and closer. The group looked up as a Shinra soldier on a bike approached. If it weren't for the giant sword, he could be anyone. Spike pulled off his helmet and shook out his hair. He greeted, “Toot toot, gang.”

Dante rolled his eyes while Delfina handed him a sandwich. She asked, “How was the ride?”

Spike tore the plastic wrap off the sandwich and took a huge bite while he nodded. He then paused, opened it, and said, “Deli, this is ham.”

“Shit.” Delfina took the sandwich back and handed it to Dante. She then fished out a different sandwich. A double stacker at that. “Sorry.”

Spike inspected the sandwich, then took a big chomp. Once he swallowed, he replied, “Drive was good. Chill, even.” He fished into his cargo pants and pulled out a set of keys. “Do you want me to ditch the van?”

“Yeah.” She traded him the keys to presumably the previous van. “We’ll meet up in town, okay?”

“Cool, cool.” He clapped her on the shoulder, then turned his attention to Dante. He asked, “How’re you holding up, big guy?”

“Tired.”

“You did great, you know?” He patted him on his shoulder as he inhaled the rest of his sandwich. “Really convincing.”

Dante smirked. “Yeah, yeah.”

Spike looked over Cloud, Barret, and Tifa. “And how're they doing?”

“Surprisingly agreeable,” Delfina replied. “They umm…” She pulled in close to him and whispered something to him.

Whatever it was, it must have surprised him, with the way his eyebrows flew up. A surprised “Really!” was all he managed to say. Once she was done, he rested his chin in his hand and tapped his foot. After a moment, he looked up and said, “Rest assured, you will learn about… You know, the what. The why. Maybe the how. But–” He sighed. “Trust us when we say it’s a really long story.”

“Can I ask one thing?” Cloud started.

“You can, but you might not get an answer.”

Cloud shifted his weight on his heels, then asked, “Did you actually kill that scientist?”

Spike laughed. “Oh honey, I absolutely did. Hojo needed to die.” He clapped Dante on the shoulder. “Dante helped.” Dante smiled a wicked smile and chuckled a deep, evil chuckle. “Yeah, I know you were looking forward to that part.” Cloud backed away as Dante chuckled some more. Spike looked at him and asked, “What? You knew we killed people.”

“I dunno, he looks like he enjoyed that a little too much…” Cloud managed.

Spike looked back at Dante, seeing that same homicidal. He patted him hard on his back, saying, “Hey. Hey. Hey. ” On seeing that that wasn't helping, he snapped his fingers in Dante's face. “Dante. Hey. ” He shook his shoulder, gently at first then a little harder. “ Vincent! ”

Dante (Vincent?) stopped, then looked back at Spike. “Huh?”

“Did we lose you for a bit?”

“... I think?” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Yeah, I was definitely not there for a bit. Sorry.”

“Look,” Delfina placed her hand on Dante's other shoulder. “I know you and I were gonna swap off driving, what with–” She gestured at her good eye. “But I think you need a rest.”

Dante nodded, then climbed into the van's passenger seat. Spike leaned down and pecked Delfina on the cheek, saying just quiet enough to barely hear, “Watch him for me, okay?”

“I always do.” She got up on her tiptoes and pecked him back, then slapped him on the butt. “Get going. You got distracting to do.” As Spike swung himself back up onto his motorcycle, Delfina hopped into the driver's seat. She called out to the three remaining, “Come on, we gotta go.”

The three of them piled in on command. Delfina pulled out back onto the highway. Dante reached over and grabbed her hat, popping it over his face. He muttered something, but it was muffled under the hat. Delfina pulled down the sun visor for him and asked, “Radio, yes or no?” He gave a thumbs up, and she turned on a classic rock channel.

As they picked up speed, Cloud's stomach did another flip. Partially from the movement. Mostly from his head running in circles.

He took a deep breath and looked out the window, out at the fading Midgar skyline. Cloud almost wanted to get a notebook and paper, to write down all this new information. But that would just make him sick to his stomach. Instead, he elected to close his eyes and think.

Not just Spike, aka Nimbus Melee, but his cohorts Delfina and Dante, aka Vincent, had traveled back in time to kill Dr. Hojo. Mr. Valentine was there, but only knew about Spike. The three of them insisted that they couldn't say why they'd done it, other than it needed to be done. The three of them also seemed to know a lot about him, as well as Tifa and Barret. Little things like Cloud's thing with ham. The fruity juice that he and Tifa drank when they were kids. Barret's rough clothing size.

It was like he was getting pieces to a puzzle, but still didn't know what the puzzle was.

Chapter Text

The sky above was streaked with purples and reds, a dark blue underneath, and speckled with distant, twinkling stars. Cloud pressed his face against the window, trying to see it. He rolled down the window and shoved his head out. Tifa joined him, looking up at the sky.

“It's gorgeous!” She said.

“Look, it's Polaris!” He pointed.

Barret laughed and joined them out his own window. He took a deep whiff and said, “Smell that? That's the Planet, y'all.”

Within the van, Delfina snorted. “That’s just the exhaust. Literal dead grandmas.”

“Nah, not that.” Barret wafted the air towards him. “Above that. That fresh air smell.”

Cloud brought himself back into the car. That maneuver would surely cost him his lunch, if not for the mint gum. Kalm was approaching over the horizon, its spires and walls jutting out against the purple sunset sky. The road changed in quality suddenly, changing from highway to rough, unmaintained cobblestones.

“It's another half hour walk from here,” Delfina said, “Or a five minute drive. Your call, queasyboy.”

“Queasyboy?” Cloud repeated.

“We're gonna ditch the car anyway, so if you gotta puke–”

“I'm not that –” His indignation was cut off by a burp, his stomach betraying him. “Euuuugh…” He covered his mouth and said, “Y-yeah, no, nope.”

By that point, Delfina had pulled over, allowing Cloud to throw himself out onto the rocky, patchy grassed ground outside. Barret groaned and got out, along with Tifa. Delfina joined them after elbowing Dante awake. “Damn, man,” Barret swore. “You were doing just fine earlier!”

Tifa stooped down and rubbed Cloud's back. She said, “You should've seen him on the way here from Junon. That boat ride's no joke.”

Cloud grimaced at the memory. “The only other way to Midgar was a plane, and that's expensive. And– …”

Cloud shot up. Tifa cocked an eyebrow, and Cloud grabbed her shoulders. “The money !” He said. “I never gave you the package for whats-his-face!!”

“Marco?” She paused, then realization crossed her face. “Oh shit, the money ! Your mom's money!!”

Barret joined them. “What, you expectin’ to get paid for a failed mission to the reactor? What're you, a merc?”

Cloud shook his head, sending his hair all agog. “No no, I've got a stash of cash in my apartment! I was gonna send it back home for Mom, but–”

Delfina cleared her throat. “The stash we gave you, you mean.”

“... w-well there was… A couple thousand in there before…”

She sighed. “We'll take care of it.” She turned to Dante and asked, “After we drop the kids off, you wanna…?”

He grimaced. “Do I have to?”

Delfina hummed and rested her hand on her chin. “Actually, no, you don’t.” She fished into her pockets and procured a phone. She then gestured to the party, pointing them towards Kalm. “Right. Best get to walking, kids.”

“I’m prolly older than both of y’all…” Barret grumbled. In response, Dante barked out a laugh and took up position at the head of the party. “What’s so funny, stretch?”

Dante shook his head in reply, wordlessly walking towards Kalm. Barret followed after him, hassling him with all kinds of questions. Cloud and Tifa were behind him, and Delfina behind them, on the phone. He couldn’t hear whoever it was she was calling, but he heard her half of the conversation. “Hey, it’s me. … Oh yeah no we’re good. … Haven’t had a chance to. …” She laughed. “No suh! … No suh !! …” She laughed again, almost doubling over. “Man. Once we get to town–... Oh yeah no we’re not there yet. … You know how queasyboy gets.” Cloud felt his cheeks flush. “... No, it’s not the same! … You know why it’s not the same, idiot. … Yeah, we’re walking. … No it’s not too bad, really. … Cl- Spike , they’re not invalids . They’re just–... We’re moseying , Spike!” Cloud could hear the uproarious laughter over the other end of the phone. Once it settled down, she continued, “We forgot something, though. … No, not that. … No, no. … Cloud left the money for Claudia at his apartment. … Yeah, I thought he did. … Spike why the hell would he keep it on him?” She dropped her voice an octave, saying, “I’m Cloud Strife and I bring ten thousand gil with me to blow up a Reactor!”

Tifa turned to him and whispered, “Ten thousand gil?!”

He shrugged. “They paid me that to keep quiet. … I didn’t do a good job of it, though, did I?”

She sighed and shook her head. Behind her, Delfina continued, “Look I know you would’ve done that, but he’s not you , Spike. … I know. … I know. … Look, it doesn’t matter, okay? It doesn’t matter . The point is it’s still there, they can’t get back to Midgar any time soon, and–... I asked! … We are asking a lot of him. …” She sighed, pulled the phone away from her ear and shouted ahead, “Dante! You sure you–”

“Tell Spike that if he makes me go back to Midgar, I’ll turn his belly from an innie to an outie.”

She listened to the phone, then shouted back, “What does that mean?!”

“It means his innards are going to be outtards if he makes me go back.”

She listened again, then said, “Thanks, doll. … I love you, too. … Alright, jeez!” She pulled the phone away and shouted, “Spike says he loves you!”

“Tell him I’m going to break his ribs.”

Back to the phone she said, “He says he loves you, too. … Yeah. … Of course. … Be safe, okay? … Yeah. Bye.” And she hung up, stowing it in her pocket.

Tifa looked behind her and said, “You guys sure have a weird way of saying you love each other.”

Delfina laughed at that. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Like?” Cloud asked. “We don’t have the radio to keep us occupied, so… tell us a story, Delfina?”

She sighed, locking her hands behind her back as she thought. She finally started, “So, up north. Like, way north, is this little town called Icicle Inn, right?”

Barret fell back to hear the story, saying, “Yeah, I’ve heard of that place. It’s great for skiing, right?”

“Right. Skiing, snowboarding, that sort of thing. But we needed to go, like… further north.”

“There ain’t nothing up there!”

“We needed to go to the nothing up there.” Barret sighed, and Delfina continued, “But like, the problem was it’s all snow and ice up there. But the good news is it’s all downhill. So we said, we’ll just snowboard or ski down there.”

Dante chuckled darkly ahead of them. Tifa asked, “What’s he chuckling about?”

Dante said, “We were there at peak season, and they’d run out of skis and snowboards for sale.”

“So Spike–” Delfina stopped to laugh, “Spike convinces this little kid, who like broke his leg snowboarding or something, to lend us his snowboard. One snowboard. For the three of us.”

Cloud could almost see the three of them. Delfina up front, Spike in the middle, Dante in the back. Resting their hands on each others’ shoulders, kind of Conga line style. Spike directing, “One, two, three, and leeeeaaaaan ,” around a bend in the path.

Tifa gaped at presumably a very similar image. Her voice shook as she asked, “How the hell are you guys alive after that?”

Dante scoffed. “Oh that's nothing. One time, the two of them fell headfirst into the Lifestream.”

It didn't take a genius to figure that prolonged exposure to the Lifestream would cause irreparable damage to the psyche. Mako poisoning was one of the most common ailments for people working in Reactors, and places in the slum with pipe leaks. Falling headfirst into the stuff…

Delfina added, “Spike did it before me!”

“Yeah, he did it once, and then the two of you did it together.”

Cloud asked, “Is that how you lost your eye?”

The two of them, previously jovial at recalling their antics, fell silent. The only sound was the crunch and crackle of stone and dirt beneath the party's shoes. Delfina sucked in a breath and replied, “No, that's… not what caused that.”

“What did?”

Dante went to say something, but Delfina interrupted him. “Don't you start. I've got this.” He huffed and picked up the pace to town. Delfina smiled, a kind of chagrined “I'm sorry about him” smile, and said, “It’s… difficult to talk about. Not as funny in retrospect as our… other exploits. But…” She looked up at the sky, kicking her feet out as she walked. She finally said, “Spike and I… picked a fight we couldn't win.”

“And Dante–”

“He fought, too. And he…” She sighed. “He lost. And he blames himself for…” She gestured at her face. “I'm still surprised we held out as long as we did. The…” She paused again, searching for words. “... The creature we fought got me.”

“... What about–”

“Spike and Dante?” Cloud nodded. “Oh believe me. They've got their scars. And I've got others, in places I'm not showing you any time soon.”

A hush fell over the group. Cloud crossed his arms, hugging himself tightly. He said, “I'm sorry. I didn't realize–”

“No, no, it's alright. How could you have known it was tough to talk about?” She patted him on the shoulder. “But now you know.”

“And knowing's half the battle!” Barret added. “Y'all remember that show? Or too busy falling into the Lifestream to watch TV?”

Dante snorted. Delfina replied, “Before my time, unfortunately.”

“And you, stretch?” When Dante didn't reply, Barret scoffed. “What, too good to watch TV?”

“Medical condition kept me from watching TV for a long time,” he replied. “And that must have been airing during that time.”

The rest of the walk was less tense than before, but less jovial than their initial set out. Seeing that no one was really talkative, Tifa had started humming. Barret had joined in, baritone added to her mezzo soprano range. Cloud eventually joined in, whistling along with Tifa's melody.

Soon enough they found themselves at the town gate. Cloud had only briefly seen Kalm, and it was from the back of a Chocobo carriage. … That's another thing he'll need to take care of. Sending word to Sam that he's apparently taking an extended leave of absence. More likely a full on resignation, given the turnover rate, but…

The blue cobblestones were the first thing he noticed, laid out in intricate spiraling patterns. Then the half stone half wooden buildings, almost reminiscent of Nibelheim's. Then the giant wall, guarding against the forces of nature and man.

Dante closed the distance from himself and the group, keeping them just within sight of him. He walked with purpose, weaving through the backstreets like he'd lived there his whole life. Away from the din of the city center, he stopped at an unassuming door with a chalkboard standee outside. The standee proclaimed that this was the “Talk of the Ton”, and they had drink specials. The handle of the door was shaped like a knife handle.

“This is it.” Dante reached for the door and opened it, stepping aside for the group to go ahead of him.

The inside of the pub was… dim. About half the light in the room came from a series of almost burnt-out hanging lamps. The other half came from a series of neon signs advertising beer. A TV was on in the upper corner, showing a news report. The only person inside was a tall man, presumably the barkeep, watching said news.

Tifa looked around, saying, “Looks like Seventh Heaven.”

Cloud nodded. Barret chuckled. “Doubt this guy knows how to make a drink like you.”

On hearing their voices, the bartender called out, “Take a seat at the bar, I'll sort you out.”

Barret stepped forward, muttering, “Holy shit…” As he approached the bar, he asked, “Dyne? Is that you?”

The bartender (Dyne?) turned his attention back to Barret. There was recognition, then disbelief, then joy. “As I live and breathe! Barret Wallace!!” He laughed, then turned and banged on a door behind the bar labeled “Private”. He called, “Eleanor! Eleanor get out here!”

“Eleanor’s here, too?” Barret asked. 

Sure enough, the Private door opened and a woman in a green dress stepped out. She wiped her hands on her apron as she said, “Dyne, for gods’ sake, I just got Marlene down!” And on seeing Barret, she gasped. “Oh my god, is that–”

Barret sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. “I… didn't think I'd ever see either of you again.”

Eleanor practically vaulted over the vault to pull him into a deep embrace. Dyne followed after, clapping Barret on the back. Cloud couldn’t help but notice the bright metal prosthetic on his left hand. Very similar in shape to Barret’s.

“Neither did I,” Dyne replied. “And… Myrna?” Barret shook his head. “Damn… I’m sorry.” Dyne held onto Barret’s good shoulder with his good hand, sighing deeply. He finally asked, “What brings you here?”

From the entry way, Dante spoke, “Calling in the favor.”

Dyne whipped towards him, his face draining of color. “You…”

Dante gestured at Cloud, Tifa, and Barret. “Gainful employment. Safe lodging. No talking to Shinra.” Dyne’s mouth gaped like a fish, then he nodded. “Good.” And with that, he left.

Delfina poked her head in, said, “This time, don’t go hunting for us, okay? It probably won’t end as well as it did this time.” And with that, she was gone.

Once the two members of Neo-AVALANCHE were gone, Dyne exhaled. “Right. Gainful employment. Uhh…” He looked at the two of them. “Any uhh… any experience with bars?”

“I ran the Seventh Heaven in Sector 7,” Tifa replied. Cloud shrugged. She’d asked him to wait tables every now and then, but…

“Right. Okay, I can work with that.” He went over and offered his good hand. “Name’s Dyne MacDougall.” He gestured to Eleanor. “This is my wife, Eleanor.” He gestured to the room they were in. “This is our business, Talk of the Ton. It’s a shitty little slice of Kalm, but it’s my shitty little slice of Kalm.” He squinted at the two of them, then asked, “One room for the two of you?”

Cloud and Tifa shared glances. “I mean…” Cloud started. “I guess? We’ve been friends since we were kids, so like…”

Tifa lifted her hands to her chest, saying, “We’re not a couple if that’s what you’re asking. We’re just… really good friends.” On seeing Dyne’s incredulous raised eyebrow, she said, “No, really! Really, we’re just…” She hooked her arm in Cloud’s. “We’re besties.”

Cloud grinned. “Besties,” he repeated.

“... besties.” Dyne repeated.

Barret stepped in, saying, “Cloud ain’t exactly the straightest arrow.”

“Barret!!” the two of them said in unison.

“What?! It’s true!”

Dyne doubled over laughing, saying, “Gods, I missed this blunt asshole!” He clapped Barret on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, kids, I ain’t in a position to judge.” He turned to Eleanor and asked, “Would you mind making up the guest room?”

Eleanor nodded and turned back to the private room. She then stopped and turned back to Barret, saying, “We’ll catch up another time, alright?” And with that, she was gone.

Dyne rested his good hand on Tifa’s shoulder, saying, “How’s about you show me how you do things back in Midgar?” And with that, the two of them went behind the bar, so that Tifa could show her skills.

Cloud settled into one of the bar stools, then got up and changed to a different one. He hadn’t noticed when he sat down the sign that said, “BROKEN, DO NOT USE”. Barret sat down next to him, exhaling. “Small fuckin’ world, ain’t it?”

Cloud looked up at the TV. It was muted, but closed captions were on. It was a report of an incident earlier today in Midgar. Initially he thought it had something to do with their escape, but they cut back to replay footage. Shot from a helicopter was a scene of the Midgar expressway. One guy on a motorcycle, riding at breakneck speeds, being pursued by city and Shinra police. If they got too close, they got taken out.

… by a giant sword.

“So that’s the diversion,” Cloud remarked.

Barret looked up at the TV. There, it could clearly be seen that the rider was the one and only Spike McTimetraveller. And one of his stunts apparently involved standing up on the motorcycle while it was still going at least a hundred miles an hour, balancing, jumping off of it, and coming down onto a Shinra biker’s bike. And then dispatching the rider, and continuing on his merry way like it was the most mundane thing possible. Barret shook his head. “Kinda glad they’re on our side,” he said.

“I mean…” Cloud sighed.

Barret patted him on the shoulder. “Look, I know we don’t know why . We don’t know who . But what we do know? We know they did something. And whatever it is that they’re so invested in us about? I’m startin’ to think of them like guardian angels. Lookin’ out for us.”

Cloud looked back up at the TV, watching Spike double back on his tracks and start going down to the slums. “... Why us?” he pondered.

Barret shrugged. “I ain’t about to go lookin’ a gift Chocobo in the beak. I mean–” He looked over at Dyne. “I coulda sworn he was…” He sighed. “And I went back, after… after what happened. I didn’t see no trace of Eleanor or Marlene.”

Cloud kicked his legs out, turning his attention to Dyne and Tifa. He was watching as Tifa made presumably one of the house specials, since it didn’t look anything like what she would make at the Seventh Heaven. “What… happened?” Cloud asked.

Barret didn’t reply, instead focusing on Dyne and Tifa as well. She finished off the drink and handed it to Dyne for approval. He nodded in approval, then handed the drink to Barret. “Girl’s a natural!” he said.

“And can kick anyone’s ass if they give you shit,” Cloud added.

Tifa beamed. “I’m the whole package. And I’m modest!”

Dyne laughed again, doubling over. He then rose and looked at Barret, then asked, “Did the demon save you, too?”

“... the demon?”

“I guess not, then.” Dyne looked down at his prosthetic. “I thought I was done for sure, when–”

“What happened?” Cloud asked again.

“Oh, they don’t know?” Dyne asked. Barret sighed and nodded. “Well, shit. That might help some, don’t you think?”

Barret nodded. “Yeah. Can’t keep running from it no more.”

Chapter Text

“Corel was one of those tiny mountain towns that lived and died by the coal mine,” Barret started. “One of those places that wasn’t on any maps of the region. Back before Mako was as big a thing as it is now, everyone needed coal. Even after the Reactors went up, a lot of the little towns out thattaway needed coal. Day in, day out, we worked in those mines. Life was… It was hard, back then. But we had a sense of pride. And Lord, were we happy. Dyne ‘nd I worked those mines. We brought home just enough to feed our wives. Didn’t really have many prospects. … Not till Shinra showed up.

“Oh, we knew what life was like outside of Corel. We got two month-old magazines with fashion and all that. They promised us a finer, easier life. A safer life. I mean, yeah, it was dangerous for me. I could take it. But the dust from the mines and processing and the like got into the air. Made it dangerous for our wives and children. Myrna was doing poorly as it was. An opportunity to make her life easier? I'd take that.

“There was a vote in town on what to do. And I… I bought every line from those greasy bastards. I fought for the Corel reactor. And not a day goes by that I don't regret it.

“Once it went up… Things changed . There was…” Barret sucked in a breath. “There was an accident at the reactor. Don't know more than that. Shinra thought it was one of us, that we'd ruined their precious reactor. So they… they took their anger out on the town. Burned the whole place down.

“Dyne and I were walking back to town when some Shinra goons cornered us and started shooting. We ran, sure, but Dyne lost his footing and fell. I grabbed him–” Barret mimicked the action with his gunarm. “And held on for dear life.”

He lowered his gun, and polished off his drink with one gulp. “They shot my arm. Left me for dead. All I saw was Dyne falling down the chasm.

“I ended up going back to town. Look for survivors. I–” He choked back a sob. “I found Myrna. In one of the medical tents they set up, once the fires were out. She wasn't… wasn't in a good way. I… I at least got to say goodbye to her. And she… she said not to let the hate get me…” He slammed his fist onto the bar. “But god damn !! It gets me so mad! We didn't do anything to them, and they took everything from us!!”

“It's our own damn fault,” Dyne said. “We let those silver-tongued demons in.”

“Yeah, I let them in!” Barret slammed the bar again. “I let ‘em sweet talk me into it! I lost everything!”

Tifa made her way over, going out from behind the bar. She pulled Barret into a hug, saying, “Hey, hey. We all know what Shinra’s like. If you don't know what's up, they'll… they'll take and take and leave nothing behind.”

Barret sniffled. “Not unless we stop ‘em.” He sucked in a breath, then asked, “How the hell did you survive, Dyne?”

Dyne looked down at his prosthetic. He sighed a long, pained sigh. “I don't think I was meant to. I was sure when I fell down that cliff, that was it. I was going to meet Odin. I made my peace with it. But… I guess fate had other plans.

“All of a sudden, I was flying. Not falling. Flying . I was flying through the canyon. And I thought, well, I must’ve splatted down there. And I’m part of the Planet, riding the wind or… something. I weaved through the canyon, down the river. And all of a sudden, I’m falling again, and I realize, oh shit I’m still alive! I’m falling, I’m gonna splat! And just then, I get caught again. And this time… I look up. This… this thing was like… holding me. By my bad arm. It was black as night, with these huge bat wings. And it looks down at me with these… these hellish yellow eyes.”

A chill ran up Cloud’s spine.

“And I look at it, and I ask, “The hell kind of angel are you ?” And this thing , this demon laughed at me. It’s got its talons dug into my arm, and I realize I don’t have a hand there anymore. And it like… It swoops me down the river, down to a little camp. Where Eleanor was, nervous as a cat in a rocking chair factory, holding Marlene. And it drops me right next to them.”

Barret raised a finger. “So this… this demon saved you?”

Dyne nodded. “Don’t know why. Don’t know what for. But it… it plucked me right out of the sky. But it gets weirder .

“See, Eleanor rushes into my arms. … arm. And I look and I see Marlene, the perfect little angel. But then I hear a voice behind me. I turn around to look at the demon, and… it’s gone. There’s a man instead. About six feet tall, dark hair, red eyes. And he starts bandaging my arm. Tells me he and his friends got as many people out as they could. Couldn’t save ‘em all, but they did their best. And I ask him about the demon, and he says that was him.

“And I ask, how can I repay you, kind demonic stranger? And he just looks at me, and says I owe him a favor. He doesn’t say what it is, or when it’ll be. Just that I’ll know when. And then… he’s gone. Walks off into the woods. Didn’t see him again until… today.”

The buzz of the neon signs seemed to increase. A floorboard in the apartment behind the bar creaked, but that could just be the building settling. The TV buzzed, but aside from that, the room was silent as Cloud processed the information.

“What the fuck?!” Cloud asked. “What the fuck do you mean he just–”

Dyne raised his hands. “Yeah, I know! It’s insane! It’s–”

Cloud pressed his head into his hands. Tifa rushed over and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. She cleared her throat and asked, “So the guy… you’re… you’re sure he was–”

“Sure as shit, sunshine. Hasn’t aged a day.” Dyne thought, then shrugged. “Makes sense, he’s a demon.”

Barret asked, “What did he mean when he said he saved everyone he could? What about Myrna?”

Dyne shook his head. “I didn’t ask. It all happened so fast.”

Barret swore and slammed the bar again. “God damn …”

Cloud held out his hand, the one with the claw scars on it. He asked, “When the… when the demon grabbed you, did it leave scars like this?”

Dyne looked at Cloud’s arm, turning it over in the dim light. He fished into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and turned on the light. On seeing it in better detail, he nodded. “Yep. My arm was blown to shit and back, but those scars were on there, too. Before an actual doctor lopped off that part for the prosthetic. Just wasn’t enough material, you know?” Dyne laughed, then paused. “How’d you get got and not know?”

“I… I don’t know.” Cloud looked up. “I keep having a dream where a demon that sounds like yours was chasing me. I think it grabbed me to keep me from falling off a cliff.” He looked at Tifa. “And grabbed Tifa by the ankle for the same reason.”

“And got my cat,” Tifa added. “... Less important, but worth mentioning.”

“When was this?” Dyne asked.

“We were…” Tifa thought for a moment. “Mom got sick when I was eight, and it was right around then. That was… gosh, that was twelve years ago.”

Dyne raised a finger. “So this guy’s been around for at least a decade, hasn’t aged a day, and just swoops in to save people’s lives?”

“Longer than a decade,” Cloud sighed. “Him and his three friends were apparently also seen thirty someodd years ago.” On seeing Dyne's confused expression, he continued, “Oh shit, that’s right, you don’t know … We gotta get you up to speed on the time travel bullshit.”

“... The what .”

Tifa fixed the lot of them while Cloud caught Dyne up to speed. About how the three of them apparently went back in time, murdered a scientist, and have now apparently been interfering in their lives from the shadows. And how a Turk, Mr. Valentine, was looking into them.

On mentioning Mr. Valentine, Dyne asked, “Wait, Vincent Valentine?” Cloud nodded. Dyne swore. “That guy used to be a regular here!”

“Used to?” Cloud asked.

“Yeah, he’s trying sobriety. He’s been sober for five years.”

“Good for him,” Tifa remarked.

“Yeah, and I’ve got strict orders that if I see him to throw something at him.”

“ Shinra orders?” Barret asked.

Dyne shook his head. “No, worse. Wife orders. She's… intense .”

Barret slumped forward. “God, wish my wife would throw shit at me for drinking…” He sat up. “That does it. I'm gonna track down those time travelin’ sons of bitches and have a chat with them.” He pointed to Dyne. “They went and saved you and your wife and your kid.” And then at Cloud and Tifa. “Apparently they saved you two from falling off a cliff. But what the hell they done for me? Why couldn't they spare me from tragedy? Why the hell is Shinra still here?”

Cloud looked down at his drink. Those were good questions. If they apparently had this incredible power, why hadn't they been able to prevent all the other tragedy? “Why did my mom have to get sick?” Cloud asked. “If they knew about that , then…”

“Maybe they didn't know,” Tifa replied. She pulled Barret's drink away from him as she continued, “Maybe when they went back and killed that scientist, that messed up things here and now.”

“Why did they kill the scientist?” Cloud asked. He shook his head. “All of this is making me dizzy. I kinda want to just…” He looked at his hands. “I think I want to go to bed.”

The group sat in awkward silence, unsure where to go from there. Dyne asked, “Cloud, right?” Cloud nodded. “You uhh… got any people skills?”

“Barely.”

“... any experience with dishes?” He nodded. “Great. Congrats, you're a busboy. Pay's a thousand an hour. You okay with that?” On seeing Cloud's mouth gaped, Dyne laughed. “It's minimum wage, kid!”

“What do you mean –” Cloud started.

“Oh right, that's not a thing in Midgar, is it?” Cloud shook his head. “Laws in Kalm say any employee makes that much, at minimum. Before tax and shit.” He pointed at Tifa and said, “That figure work good for you? Plus tips?”

Tifa whistled, then replied, “Yeah, that works.”

Dyne clapped his hands. “Great. And…” He looked over Barret, thinking. “How do you feel about being security? Frees me up for anything else.”

Barret sighed, then nodded. “Yeah. I guess. Until I can…” He clenched his hand. “Get my mitt on those three bastards.”

“Great.” Dyne patted him on the shoulder. “You and I can catch up later, ey big guy?” On seeing Barret’s sullen expression, he walked back towards the private door to check on their lodgings.

Cloud and Tifa shared glances. This was a chance for a new beginning. A life outside of Midgar. Out from Shinra's clutches. Sure, they didn't have as much baggage as Barret did, but that didn't mean they liked the company. Working as a bus boy would not only pay better than working for Sam, but it would get Cloud out of Wall Market. Being barkeep at the Ton would get Tifa out of the slums, too. Better money for her, too, to send home to her father. The whole situation they found themselves in was… Good.

… The pit in Cloud's stomach said otherwise. The pit spoke the truth that Cloud didn't want to think: Now, more than ever, he wanted to sit down with Neo-AVALANCHE and just understand… what. Why. How, maybe? … Mostly the why. The why, why, why ?

Ugh. Sleep sounds like a good idea.

Chapter Text

For a while, things seemed like they were going back to normal.

Cloud picked up on dishwashing like a duck to water. It's dishwashing, not rocket science. Sure, Chocobo Sam was absolutely livid, but there really wasn't anything he could do about it.

Traffic to the Ton picked up, once word got out about Tifa working there. And for every three guys who started coming by, Barret scared at least one of them off for being a creep.

Speaking of Barret, Marlene took a liking to him. As much as she loved being held by her mom or her dad, she started asking for uppies from Barret. He told funny stories, she said. It was kind of cute to see this big burly man with a little girl perched on his shoulder, tucking daisies into his hair. She started calling him “Uncy” Barret. And at first, Cloud wanted to tease him, but thought better of it. 

Things were looking up.

Maybe a week or so after their grand escape, Cloud went about poking through town with Tifa. They meandered and weaved through old alleys, down flights of stairs to another bar, up and around an old clock tower… Anywhere they could go, really. Just taking in the scenery. 

As they were heading back to the center of town, Tifa pointed out a fountain in an abandoned square. It looked like this used to be town square, before the town outgrew its original location. It was overgrown with a wide variety of plants, and was being fussed over by a woman in a pink dress. A little brown wicker basket was next to her, and she was humming a tune to herself.

Maybe it was the bright pink and red. Maybe it was the way her hair was pulled into this cute twisted braid, tied with a pink ribbon. Maybe it was the tune she was humming, so familiar that Cloud felt like he should know it, but just couldn't pin what it was. Or maybe it was when their eyes met, and he could even see from where he was that they were the most striking shade of green he’d ever seen on a person.

Whatever it was, it held him captive. Not captive, no. Transfixed. He could move from where he was stuck at any time. But he didn’t want to.

A mischievous smile played on her lips. She stood, dusting off her dress, and turned to him. She rested her hands on her hips and said, “Took you long enough!”

Cloud found himself walking down the steps into the dilapidated fountain area. The whole time, he couldn’t keep himself from staring at her. He had a feeling that it was like seeing a long lost friend. Someone he used to know. But when he searched for a name, for any recollection of this person, he just kept coming up empty.

But as he got closer, the look on her face changed. For a moment she looked disappointed, then sad. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. Then, back up to the smiling person she was before. Maybe a little less genuinely than she was before, but it was hard for Cloud to tell. “I thought you were someone else,” she continued.

Cloud was maybe a foot away from her now. He asked, “Are you sure? I feel like–”

She giggled, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “I’m sure! I wouldn’t forget that hair of yours.

“M-my hair?”

She nodded. “Decidedly Chocobo-esque.”

“Oh…”

She leaned forward, her hands clasped behind her back. She asked, “And what brings you here to Kalm, mister?”

“I–” He started to answer, but then found himself blanking on words. He scratched at the back of his head. “It’s a… long story…”

The girl hummed to herself, straightening up and pressing her hand to her chin. “Really? Sounds like it was a wild one!”

He laughed. “Y-yeah…” As she considered him some more, he asked, “You’re sure we’ve… never met before? I just… feel like I’ve…”

She giggled again. “I’m sure, silly!” She picked up her basket, saying, “Besides if we’d met before, you’d remember my name.” Shit, she’s right. Cloud was suddenly blanking. There was no way he’d forget someone like her. Absolutely no way. On seeing his blank expression, she giggled again and extended her hand.

He took her hand, just holding it. He practically jumped when Tifa spoke next to him, “What a garden! You don't see flowers like these anymore.”

The florist looked Tifa over, from her boots to her hair. It was hard to tell what she was thinking. Her expression changed to a soft smile. “My mom used to say I had a natural green thumb, and could make a garden wherever I wanted.”

Tifa chuckled a bit. “Good luck with that in Midgar.”

“I’ve never been!” The florist replied. “What’s it like?”

Tifa thought for a moment. “... Brown. Gray. Steel. Stinky.”

The florist reached into her basket of flowers, pulling out a pair of yellow lilies. She handed one to each of them, saying, “These symbolize reunions. Since it just feels like… I’ve met both of you before.” Tifa gladly took hers and sniffed it, smiling at the scent. Cloud held his dumbly in his hand, unsure what to do. “And yet, I don’t even know your names. I’m Aerith.”

“Aeris?” Cloud repeated.

She giggled, her laugh like a bell. “I used to say it like that, when I was a kid. Aerith’s a mouthful for a little girl. Same with Gainsborough.” She cocked her head. “And you are…”

“Oh! I’m Tifa,” Tifa replied. She elbowed Cloud in the ribs. “This sociable dork’s Cloud. We just moved here, and we’re just… poking around.”

“You’re moseying?” Aerith asked, leaning forward. Before they could respond, she beckoned them to follow. “Let me give you the guided tour!”

And so, they let Aerith take them on a guided tour of Kalm. Turns out the fountain that she’d started her garden at had indeed once been the town square. It was situated outside of a church, but after the church burned down, no one could bear to visit anymore. She pointed out each historical landmark, each clock tower and buttress on the wall, each feature both remarkable and unremarkable.

From what Cloud could gather, she'd lived here most of her life here in Kalm. Her parents had moved here sometime when she was little, to be closer with extended family. Everyone in town seemed to know and recognize her, greeting her as she skipped through the streets.

The tour concluded at a small cottage on the edge of town, also overflowing with plants. “And this…” Aerith said, “... is my house!”

From behind a thriving rosebush, a man called, “Aerith, is that you?”

“That's my dad,” Aerith said. She turned towards the bush and called back, “I brought friends!”

The man emerged, about rather serious looking fellow with a thick, bushy mustache and equally thick, square rimmed glasses. His hair was significantly more salt than pepper, and his face was aged. The stern appearance was contrasted with the sun hat adorned with sunflowers perched on his head, and the matching overalls and gloves over a faded plaid shirt. “Friends?” he repeated as a smile played over his face. “Well, a friend of Aerith’s is a–” He froze, face falling. “... Friend of… Mine…”

Aerith gestured to her father, saying, “Guys, this is my dad. Dad, this is Cloud and Tifa. They just moved here!”

Tifa raised her hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you!” She elbowed Cloud until he also waved. “Don't mind this antisocial dork. He's just shy.”

Cloud cleared his throat and said, “How do you do, Mr. Gainsborough?”

“It's Faremis, actually,” he replied. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, then asked, “Aerith, would you be a dear and get the table set?”

Aerith skipped into her house, before exiting and waving, “Nice to meet you guys! I'll see you around!” And in she went.

With the resident beam of sunshine now safely inside, the warm glowing feeling that had exuded their meandering… Vanished. Mr. Faremis cleared his throat, then asked, “What are you doing here?”

“If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that, I'd have an alarming number of nickels,” Cloud grumbled. “Tifa and I just moved here, that's all.”

Mr. Faremis scowled at him. “Really. Uh huh.” He seemed to be doing his best to be intimidating, but it was hard to take him serious with his sunflower hat. “What are you really doing here, “Cloud”?”

Tifa glanced at Cloud, resting her hand on his shoulder. “We really did just move here, from Midgar. We were poking around town when we ran into Aerith. Nothing malicious.”

He snorted. “Fine. Whatever you say, “Tifa”.” He poked a finger into Cloud's chest. “Just… Both of you. Stay away from my daughter.” He jabbed his finger further into Cloud's chest. “I mean it.”

Cloud backed away, raising his hands in submission. “Yes, sir, nothing to worry about here, sir!”

“You don't need to worry about that, sir!” Tifa laughed. “He plays for the other team!”

Before Cloud could object to getting outed to a random stranger, Mr. Faremis growled, “I don't care. Both of you.” He punctuated each word with a jab into Cloud's chest. “Keep. Away. From. Her.”

Cloud continued to back away, hands still up. Tifa sighed and took his shoulder, and lead him away. He looked over his shoulder at Mr. Faremis holding his trowel in as intimidating a manner as he could. Tifa whispered, “Sorry for doing that to you. He seems like my dad and he thinks all boy friends are boyfriends, not just friends that are boys.”

“I don't think that was it,” he replied. “... I appreciate that, by the way. Please don't just… out me.” She patted him on the shoulder as they continued back to town. “Seriously, it's weird that a lot of people seem to be asking what I'm doing places. Completely normal places! Like my apartment!”

“Or a reactor!”

Cloud reached up and stroked his chin. “Isn't that weird? That the only other people who ask that are our resident time traveling friends?”

Tifa placed her hand on her chin, resting her elbow in her other hand. “I mean…” She tapped her finger. “It’s almost like he recognized you. And me.”

“Really now?” Cloud turned to her. “You know what that means?”

Tifa sighed. “Back to the board?”

He beamed. “Back to the board.”

Chapter Text

Down in the basement, next to The Board, Barret had Marlene resting on his shoulders. She had a little duster in her hand, and she was dusting the rafters. She looked down at Cloud and said, “Uncy Barret, Cloud's back!”

Barret nodded at Cloud. “Hey, man.” Cloud nodded in reply, moving towards the board. “Hope you don't mind the uhh… addition.”

Cloud squinted at the flower added. Marlene said, “It was ugly.”

“Well, it's not supposed to be pretty, it's supposed to make sense.” Cloud grumbled. He winced when Marlene chucked her duster at the back of his head. “What was that for?”

Marlene blew a raspberry in response.

Barret laughed a deep belly laugh. “Don't tell your daddy I told you to do that!”

“Snitches get stitches!” Marlene replied.

Barret laughed again. “You're darn right!”

Cloud grumbled to himself as he grabbed his black pen and sticky note. He asked, “Barret, how would you spell “Aerith”?”

Still on Barret's shoulder, Marlene squirmed till he let her down. She trotted over to Cloud and asked, “You met the flower lady?” Cloud nodded. “She's nice. She watches me when Mommy's busy helping Daddy.” She swung her arms around, twisting and twirling her dress. “She always smells nice and tells stories.”

“Stories, huh?” Cloud asked. He bit the cap on the pen, and settled on “AIRETH” for the spelling. He asked, “What about her Daddy?”

Marlene stopped twisting. “She doesn't talk about him. She talks about her Mommy.”

With Cloud finishing a sticky note that said “MR FAREMIS”, he started at new one, “MRS FAREMIS”. “Yeah?” He asked. “What kind of stories?”

Marlene shook her head. “It's for girls ears only, silly!!”

Barret laughed again. “Snitches get stitches.”

“Please?” Cloud asked.

“Snitches get stitches!” With that, Marlene blew another raspberry and scampered upstairs.

Cloud sighed. “Of course.” He looked over his three new stickies. “... I don't know how they fit in.”

Barret looked wistfully up the stairs. “I don't know what to tell you. Your madness board is your madness board.” As Cloud started pinning them in their own little corner, Barret sighed. “Didn't even realize how much I'd like being “uncy” Barret.”

“You're a big softie,” Cloud replied. “Like… a big marshmallow, or a teddy bear.”

“I ain’t a goddamn teddy bear! Or a marshmallow!”

“I think in another life, you'd make a great dad.”

Barret paused. “... You mean it?”

Cloud shrugged. “I mean, what do I know? Never knew mine.” Cloud cut a length of red thread and tied the three of them together. “... But like… I mean it, you know? Like if you were my dad, I think I'd be okay with that.”

Barret laughed that big belly laugh of his. “Maybe then you wouldn't be making madness boards in the basement.”

Cloud scoffed. “I think I'd still have one. Considering the madness .”

The stairs to the basement opened, and Tifa called down, “Boys? Can you come up here, please?” Barret and Cloud shared confused looks before ascending to the ground floor.

Upstairs, sitting at the bar, was a young woman. Maybe about Cloud's age. She had her hair pulled into a low ponytail with a yellow ribbon, and a bright blueish green cap on her head. Now that he could see more of her, Cloud could see she was wearing a courier’s uniform for a local outfit. She looked up as she heard them approach. She asked, “Cloud Strife, I presume?”

“That’s me,” he replied.

She stood from the bar and started fishing for something in her comically oversized messenger bag. She muttered, “God dammit, Mickey, at least keep the paperwork straight…” She finally pulled out a clipboard, a pen, a sheaf of papers, and a small, nondescript box. She pinned the papers onto the clipboard, then offered it and the pen to Cloud. “Need a signature, right here on the line.”

Cloud signed.

She flipped over to another page. “Here, too.”

He signed again.

“And this one–” she flipped to a third page.

He squinted, and signed.

“Just two more here–” She flipped to the last page. “Here–” she pointed at the top, and Cloud signed. “And initials here.” He initialed. She flipped through all the papers as she muttered, “That’s all of them, I think…”

“What exactly was I signing?”

“It’s just a bunch of legal junk. Making sure you’re not receiving anything flammable, anything Mako radiative, you’re not gonna make a bomb with it or anything…”

“Shouldn’t the sender be signing that?” Barret asked.

“The sender–” She flipped back to the front page. “Indicated if there was anything like that, it was your liability.”

“They can do that?” Tifa asked incredulously.

“This one can.” She shrugged. “My boss was just, like, “Mickey, just do this, okay? I don’t wanna see that guy again!” And I’m like, okay, whatever, not my problem.”

Cloud and Tifa shared glances. There was one guy they could think of who had a particularly intimidating presence. The woman handed over the package to Cloud. It was a small, rectangular box, not too heavy. Shaking it revealed some rattling, but otherwise no clue as to what the contents were. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, and tied with a plain brown length of twine. As Cloud started to untie it, Tifa said, “I got one, too.”

“And you didn’t ask about what you were signing?”

“She didn’t ask me to sign.”

“The parcel package had your name on it, Mister Strife. Hence, why your–hang on–” The woman dove back into her back, rummaging around for something. She pulled out another package and handed it to Barret, saying, “Here, just take it.” She went back to the paperwork, made three check marks, put the clipboard down, struck a pose and said, “Thank you for choosing Carbuncle Courier Crew!”, dropped the pose, ticked off on the clipboard, and left.

Barret brought over his package and set it on the bar, next to Cloud’s. They were just about the same size, same paper, same twine. Tifa brought hers over from behind the bar and set it down next to Cloud’s. Yup, same exact story.

“The hell is it?” Barret asked.

Cloud shrugged, and started pulling on the twine on his. “Unless you’ve got X-ray vision, staring at it won’t help.” Tifa followed suit, undoing the twine and wrapping it around her wrist. Barret grumbled, then ripped the paper off his box.

Inside the box was an envelope, along with a smattering of coins. The coins made up about 2000 gil total. … Why was that number familiar to him? … He reached in and pulled out one of the 10 gil coins, looking it over. … He remembered this coin.

“Tifa, look!” He held out the coin.

“What’s so special about it?” She asked.

“It’s got two heads!”

She flipped it over. “Did you rob Sam for this?”

“No, I just found it in the street!”

“Huh! Neat.” And she handed it back.

He flipped it over in his hands. Two heads. Either they’re exceedingly common, or Neo-AVALANCHE broke into his apartment (again), ransacked his hidden money drawer, and then mailed its contents to him. … Given the other things they’ve done, that seems more likely.

The envelope had stapled to it a postcard, advertising Costa del Sol. On the back, written in black ink, was, “EMBRACE YOUR DREAMS!” Cloud tore it off, shoved it back into the box, and opened the envelope. Inside were the five 1000 gil bills, one 5000 gil bill, and then another fifteen 1000 gil bills.

Cloud dropped the bills into the box, his face growing pale.

Next to him, Barret whooped. “HOLY HELL!”

And on the other side, Tifa gasped.

He looked between the two of them. Indeed, in each of their boxes, was about the same. An envelope with a postcard, and an inordinate sum of money the likes of which they couldn’t comprehend.

“... It’s fake, isn’t it?” Barret asked.

Cloud shook his head. “It’s from those guys, and they gave me real money last time. Or at least, it looked like real money.”

Tifa went behind the bar and grabbed a pen from near the register. She marked each bill on the corner, squinting at the marks. As she went through each bill, her expression changed, growing from surprised to alarmed. “Hand me yours,” she said, reaching out for Cloud’s hand. He handed her his stack of bills, and she went through and marked those, too. Barret handed his over to her without needing to be asked, and she went through all of those, too. When she was done, she blinked at them, then turned to the group. “They’re real.”

“Holy shit …” Barret breathed. “... They’re stolen, then!”

Cloud shrugged. “Maybe. I dunno.”

“The hell we gonna do with–I mean–” He gestured at the stack of money. “That’s, what, fifty-five between us? The hell you do with that kind of money?”

Tifa shook her head. “I mean, I’m sure Dyne would like some extra scratch for the bar. But–” She sighed. “I’m pretty sure I know what Cloud wants to do with his.”

“Do you even need to ask?”

“Yeah, but–... I haven’t been able to get in touch with Marco since we left Midgar. And even if I could, this is just… this is a lot of money to get there.”

“We could hire a courier or something.”

Barret laughed. “Nah, nah, they’re supposed to open and inspect the packages they deliver.”

“And everywhere ’s been really hard about their deliveries meeting certain examination requirements,” Tifa added. “Pretty sure the only reason the money’s still in this box and not in that girl’s pockets is–”

“The guy who shipped them could turn into a demon or something, and everyone was afraid of him.” Cloud sighed. He then looked up at Tifa and asked, “Wanna go to Nibelheim?”

“I-I mean–” She looked down at the stack of cash. “... It would be nice , I guess? Say hi to mom and dad? But also… we just got here… I’d hate to leave Dyne alone.”

Barret raised his hand. “Here’s an idea.” He pointed at the two of them. “You two, you go on to Nibelheim. Say hi to your folks. I’d love to go with ya, but…” He sighed. “Would need to go through Corel, and even if it ain’t that bad, it would still…” He laughed. “‘Sides, between Dyne and I, we’ve got a full set of hands between us!”

Tifa sighed again, looking at the money. She clenched her fists, closed her eyes, then said, “Yeah. Fuck it.” She turned to Cloud. “We’re going to Nibelheim.”