![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
FF7 - Restore chapter 9
Archive
Previous
Contrary to his own expectations Cloud slept the whole way through the trip back home. He'd thought he would fret himself wide awake, or be questioned for new info, but when he went to put down his and Tifa's things in a cabin he indulged in a few minutes' sit-down on a bunk bed, waiting for lift-off, and the next thing he knew Reeve was knocking at his door telling him they'd be in Edge in ten minutes and did he want to join them on the bridge.
He had a feeling they'd talked without him, and that there were things they weren't going to share. He told himself that was fine, expected. (And nothing he didn't deserve anyway.)
At least he wasn't quite as exhausted anymore.
He followed Reeve to the bridge, past the wide glass bays. No one was there but Cid himself, and one of his employees, manning the helm and looking very much like he was pretending to be elsewhere, so as to avoid attracting attention from his captain.
Cid stood close to the glass, watching the gray plains stretched underneath, dotted with startling green -- dark, hardy little bushes, yellow-tinted desert grasses, not anything vivid, but nonetheless unexpected. Cloud joined him there, hands in his pockets. He had a feeling the area around Midgar would stay a desert a while longer, but the grassy plains of Kalm gained back a little more every year.
Cloud almost asked Cid what he had planned in case Sephiroth was just playing along so they'd gather where he could easily find and kill them all in one go, in case they were rushing headlong into a trap.
Almost, because it wasn't like they could afford not to go to him, anyway. Whether this was a trap or not they had to go and check, go and fight. The Turks might manage to fight him for a little while, but win? Even for Avalanche it wasn't a guarantee. No doubt the others had thought it out, and come exactly to the same conclusion. Still, he was glad Vincent and Yuffie would be safely out of reach; even if all the people present today died...
"Aeris and your friend. If things go sour and they turn on us," said Cid. Cloud flinched, stared at him.
"Cid, what the hell?" The very suggestion made him sick to his stomach.
"If things go sour," Cid repeated stubbornly, sparing him a quick glare, "I don't want you on Sephiroth. He'd be expectin' you. I want you on your friend. He's a SOLDIER, right? We don't need that at our backs."
Cloud shoved his fists deeper into his pockets.
"... Did you hear me, Strife?"
The stern, scowling look Cid sent him there said, clear as day, 'you are not out of the doghouse yet.' Cloud reluctantly surrendered. "... Yes sir."
He knew one of the others already had Cloud-wrangling duty in case he got possessed and they wouldn't tell him who it was; he wouldn't know unless and until it was needed. He didn't take that personally. Going against Zack disturbed him more. Just the thought made him feel guilty, traitorous already.
Having his loyalty divided like this... He hated it. He hated even more knowing that even if Avalanche was the side he wanted to be on, the side he should logically support, the side against Sephiroth...
Stalling Zack he could do. Injuring him, he didn't know. Made him queasy. Killing him was right out; he'd rather surrender straight away. What kind of credible threat could he offer? They'd see right through his bluff, he wasn't that great an actor.
... Injuring Zack -- in the heat of the moment, he could see. He still wasn't okay with the way Zack's loyalty was divided, either. If Sephiroth proved to be a danger, and Zack stood in the way, he could see getting angry -- betrayed -- enough to fight him.
Outside of a fight he had no idea how to deal with either of them, he or Aeris, how to deal with any of this. He'd mourned them, would have mourned them until the day he died, but here they were, surprise!, we know you've tried to move on but now you should move back.
He wanted to move back. It was terrifying how much he wanted it. Huh, he thought, not even that surprised. No wonder he'd skipped town as soon as possible.
"Reeve," Cid called back. Cloud looked up. "You got another Cait in the area?"
Standing at the helm with Cid's employee, Reeve winced. "As it happens, I do. But..." A sigh. "We'll have to use it sparingly. There's automated routines, but it won't be able to be sentient at the same time as the one I left with Yuffie."
"What, it can't?" Cid huffed, planted his hands on his hips. "Why the hell not?"
"Because," Reeve replied with a bit of a wry 'do I ask you why your ships can't fly in reverse' expression on his face, "Cait Sith is a remote-controlled self-learning artificial intelligence, and when two of him make the AI evolve in different directions the whole database crashes. And since the AI at times uses new data to reinterpret old info I can't just delete the last day and reboot him, I might have to edit up to a month or worse of data in order to integrate everything." He sighed, pulled out a handheld computer thing, tapped a few buttons. "It'll be at the bar in twelve minutes."
Cid made a little moue, checked the horizon. At this speed Cloud estimated they'd be in Edge in fifteen. "Alright... I'll call Vince, ask if he needs support right now. If he doesn't, Cait's on Aeris. Knock her clean out right from the start, or at least keep her busy, we don't need to be dealing with her spells or her tryin ta heal 'em. And the rest of us will be on him, keepin' him busy until Cloud is done."
No need to explain who that 'him' was.
Cid leaned over a console and flicked a button. "Alright, ladies, your makeup better be done. Everybody to the bridge. Time to go."
--
Tifa didn't have houseplants in her bar, or her house, but she did have old terracotta pots in the mess of her attic, and a couple packets of seeds, never planted. Aeris had sent Zack out earlier, to dig out some soil and fill a pot, as she sorted out dead seed from dormant. She was more or less content right now, arms dusty up to the elbows, dark dirt under her nails, even though all the earth Zack had found was polluted almost to the point of uselessness. There was still some life in there, stubborn, struggling.
With their friends on their way back it wasn't the best time to take up horticulture again, and she hoped Tifa wouldn't begrudge her the use of her things (it didn't seem likely, abandoned as they had been in some dusty corner), but she would rather not fall back into that old nail-biting habit. She'd kicked it when she was twelve; be a little silly to return to it now. It was better to have something to keep her hands occupied, and she'd already done all the laundry she could.
Also it was reassuring, faint as it was, to feel the lifeblood of the Planet between her hands like a slow, steady heartbeat. She was still part of the Planet, one of a myriad of pieces of a gigantic organism, and still doing her task; purifying, even in such piddling amounts.
She could feel Sephiroth's life nearby, a permanent shower of sparks, oddly slowed down at the moment, the reaching, searching trails of life-light clear enough that she wondered if he ever could learn the trick of it, the planet-healing, or if his not being Cetra was without recourse.
She couldn't feel Zack much, even though his life energy was hardly what she would call weak. He was... more contained. Veiled.
So was the man sitting outside the bar, a faint shadow to her senses, but one that had stayed unmoving long enough for her to feel its edges even through the indistinct feather-blurs of other passersby.
Aeris let the soil flow from her hands and back in the pot, climbed to her feet, cranked up the metal blinds. Opened the front door, and crossed the street, not too busy at this hour, and sat on the other end of his windowsill.
"It's nice to see you again, Barret."
She waited as he watched her, the man silent, almost subdued. Barret was a loud, opinioned man, quick to physical displays of negative emotion; most people imagined this meant he was all rough edges and hard clear through, but she had always known. Revenge against Shinra was not even half the reason he had gone against them; if he'd just wanted payback getting rid of Scarlet would have been enough. Scarlet was the one who'd ruined his town, killed his wife, broken Dyne.
Or Barret could have run away with Marlene, done nothing but be her father, kept himself safe so he'd always be here to keep her safe. He'd seen the rot that Shinra spread, though, to the world he couldn't ignore and to Marlene's future both, so it had never been a choice. He was a man with a grudge to settle, yes, but that had never meant he hadn't cared deeply about a great many things -- rather the opposite.
"...Hey," he said eventually, voice rough, low.
She smiled faintly, an acknowledgement almost as subdued as his own. She didn't want him thinking she took him lightly; she remembered how badly too much levity had gone over with Cloud and Tifa.
He looked away, as if there was something in the middle of the street. "Wasn't s'posed to go in."
There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice -- being forbidden things like a child? Being caught lurking? She smiled a little wider. "I'm not supposed to come out either. In case someone who knew me before sees me."
He grunted. "Makes sense."
"I figure since you're here it'll be maybe a few more hours before I can come out again, anyway... It doesn't matter much anymore if rumors start to spread now."
He spared her a quick glance, but otherwise didn't respond. Aeris let the silence fall again, cars driving past and people dodging their stretched out legs on the sidewalk, some sparing the unlikely pair they made mildly curious looks, most of them not even that much. There was a rhythm to the street just like there was one to the Lifestream, ebb and flow, patterns just out of reach that she felt she ought to be able to read.
There was a pattern to Barret's thoughts, and she couldn't read them (no matter what Sephiroth thought) but she felt the ebb and flow of his anger, his betrayed feelings, his anguish. His love. His gratefulness.
"Tifa tells me that Marlene calls my mother Grandma," she said quietly into one of those lulls. "I can't tell you how much it means to me. Knowing I would be leaving her alone -- it was..."
"Goddamnit." Barret rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, angry and pained both. "I can't figure out how pissed off I am at you. You're not fightin' fair."
Of course not. She was fighting to win. She didn't answer that; he had a right to his anger. It didn't mean she wasn't telling the truth, anyway.
"You got yerself caught for my little girl once."
"You came to save me. There's no debt left. No imbalance."
He flinched, turned to glare at her, anguish swelling under his skin, coming out raw in his voice. "You died for us!"
She ignored the passersby startled by his outburst, too curious now, slowing down to listen in; they didn't matter, didn't have enough background knowledge to understand, to believe.
"... I never meant to die, Barret. I found I was willing, when it happened, but if I could have avoided it -- if I had known what was coming... I'd like to think I would have had the strength to do it anyway, but we'll never know." She shook her head. "It's not a debt, anyway. By then, we were friends, and you don't keep count with friends."
He tore himself away from her eyes, turned in his seat so he couldn't see her anymore, on the verge of simply getting up and getting away; his flesh hand clenched hard on his knee, so tight she could feel the bruise about to bloom under the skin. She didn't reach out; it was just a bruise and he needed his distances more than such a little thing fixed.
"Didn't used to be so cold," he muttered eventually, sneaking her a tired look, head hanging, over his shoulder.
Aeris flinched a little, startled. "It's not --" It... sort of was; she hadn't lied at any point, but the way she used the truth was manipulative even so. She thought he meant her tone, anyway, but she couldn't -- she couldn't find the balance between thoughtful and reasonable, and dispassionate, like she hadn't found it between friendly and dismissive with Cloud and Tifa, at first. "...Am I really?" she said, more in pained admission than denial.
"... aw, hell. Not a -- not a I don't care cold. Scalpel-cold. Steady hand, deep lil' cuts. I don't remember ya like that."
Aeris bit her lip, looked away. She really couldn't deny it. She'd changed, in the Lifestream; she was starting to get hints that not all of the changes had been good. She'd just...
How was she supposed to show her care for one single person, again, when she once had to care for a whole world? She only remembered that it didn't use to be so complicated.
"...I'm sorry."
"... S'okay. It was all true, too."
"Barret, I--"
"I don't wanna talk with you right now." He shook his head, teeth gritted. "I'm so pissed off. He fuckin' killed you, and now you turn on us? I don't get it, I don't fuckin' want to get it, I--"
He drew in a deep, shuddery breath, forced his fist down and into his pocket, back still turned.
"No talkin'. Not now. I -- can't."
She didn't say anything, only nodded her acquiescence, even though he couldn't see. After a long moment Barret slowly sat back down on the windowsill, beside her, though he kept staring straight ahead. Neither of them talked, not until a ship came to a hovering stop over their heads and Cloud and their friends rappelled down into the street.
--
Body on a slab. That was familiar, even if the things said body came wrapped in weren't. The clothes were the least of it; the only thing wide enough to fit Sephiroth's shoulders to be found in Cloud's closet was a round-collared t-shirt, washed soft, colors faded until the band logo could barely be seen. Zack had seen Sephiroth in civilian clothing exactly twice before, and both times he'd gone with pristine button-up shirts and slacks; one time on a trip to Northern he'd put on a black SOLDIER-issue turtleneck under his coat -- but at least Zack had imagined him in more casual stuff.
It was the other change that Zack's eyes kept coming back to, strange and weird and a little wrong, not that he would ever say so.
The man sleeping before him didn't look like a living legend, like a bigger-than-life warrior. He looked like a model on his day off, perhaps -- or a highly successful executive slumming it, actually. Zack made a note to find him fake glasses to complete the look--
Something was on the roof.
He couldn't have said what alerted him; there had been very little noise, all easily explained away. The hair on the back of his neck was all up anyway. He eased himself up on his feet, slow and graceful, every single gesture controlled, and ghosted across the least creaky planks. He'd pinpointed them earlier so he wouldn't wake Sephiroth again; he didn't wake him now.
It'd be a bad idea to greet Cloud's friends armed -- it was just a step removed from hostile -- so Zack had left Cloud's swords on their rack, a floor down, and now he was cursing himself a bit. He just had the bracer with the Seal and Barrier in it.
Soft, padded feet, almost silent on tiles. The beams supporting the roof creaked under a massive weight. It didn't move like a human. Would there really be monsters so far in a living area?
Two floors down the front door of the bar opened, the bell dancing; maybe Aeris coming back in. She wasn't carrying any offensive magic, though, and he didn't want to alert the monster. She climbed the steps...
No, that wasn't her walk. That was--
When Cloud and the other, older blond man stepped into the attic, they found Zack under the skylight still, head tilted, still tracking. He flicked them an acknowledging glance, lifted a finger to ask them to wait, pointed at the roof. Cloud started his own cat-footed, stalking approach through the maze of old furniture on what seemed like pure blind trust, and then stopped in his tracks.
"--Oh. No, it's okay, that's just -- holy fuck."
"Huh?" Okay, what -- oh, Cloud had just seen Sephiroth. Zack eyed the ceiling, frowning, even as he simmered down from hunting-mindset.
"That's Nanaki," said the older blond with the three-days beard. "He's with us. Spike?"
Zack wasn't sure what to keep track of; the huge black man who'd just paused in the doorway, Cloud's reaction to Sephiroth's new look, the ... big, red-furred predator head that had just appeared at the window...
"That's Nanaki?" he repeated dubiously. The beast gave him a polite nod of greeting, head craned at an uncomfortable angle.
"And you are Zack Fair, I presume? It's nice to make your acquaintance."
Well. Never let it be said that Cloud didn't have interesting tastes in friends. "Ah, likewise."
The skylight was too small to open and let the ... Nanaki in; he cracked it open anyway, to make conversation easier, threw the beast a quick, perfunctory smile, and turned to look at the scene.
A faster approach would probably have pinged Seph's radar, he'd have started trying to wake, but Cloud had approached slowly, and the other blond man casually, not in a suspicious sneaky way, and the black man was tall enough that he didn't need to get as close in order to see over the chest of drawers. The weight of those stares might be enough to do it, though.
"So, who are you guys?" he asked, light and friendly, to distract them. Cloud blinked up at him.
"Cid Highwind," said the older blond, pointing at himself with his thumb, and then at the black man over his shoulder, "Barret Wallace."
"... What happened to his hair?"
There was the strangest expression on Cloud's face. Zack shrugged. "You'll have to ask him that yourself. I guess he felt like a change of image."
Cloud shook his head in bewilderment, and then frowned, as if reminding himself to be stern. Highwind's eyes were narrowed in thought, suspicious but cool. Wallace...
Wallace might be a more immediate kind of trouble. Zack smiled a little wider and stepped around Sephiroth's feet.
"Everyone's gathering downstairs. Think he'd wake if we picked him up and brought him?"
"Likely," Zack replied. Highwind chewed on the end of his cigarette.
"Can't have a group talk with half of us up here to guard him. Can't leave him without as we chat elsewhere, either." Highwind glanced at Nanaki, who might be unable to come in but could still cast through the window. Zack frowned a bit. He wanted to be right there where the discussion was happening, but leaving Seph alone, now that wasn't happening.
"He said he was willing to do his best not to kill anyone in self-defense," Cloud said slowly, reluctantly, "but he never said he wouldn't defend himself. Or how far we could push before he stopped trying. So once we wake him up... If we decide to put him down after all we'll have a serious fight on our hands." And then he didn't say what'd happen, he just looked at Highwind, like he was waiting for him to... Zack didn't know.
"So don't wake him up first," Wallace growled, and whoa, that was a pretty sweet high-powered gun on that arm. Would make a nice hole at this range.
"Might not be a bad idea," Highwind said calmly.
"I promised," Cloud replied with irritation.
"Well, we didn't."
Cloud seemed to be at a loss, his eyes scanning Sephiroth's still body, his sleeping face. His fists were clenched. He didn't say anything.
Regretfully, Zack took a few slow steps in the narrow space between them and Sephiroth, crowding them into taking a step back. "I wouldn't let you." Highwind's eyes narrowed at him. Zack met them, steady, utterly serious. "He's been promised a fair trial. He'll get it."
Highwind was still analyzing. Cloud was flinching with guilt, not about to shift into a fighting -- killing -- mindset quite yet. Wallace was behind the chest of drawers.
Zack was a bit surprised when a huge fist lashed out at his head. He didn't pause to think, or to decipher the snarled imprecations that came with it; he reacted, grabbing a wrist and yanking it down with his weight, flipping around on it like a gym bar as he kicked at the man's head.
His heel connected with Barret's jaw, too shallow to break it or properly shake his brain. The distance was wrong, the way his hips bent was wrong, his body was wrong. No time. Gun-arm was long-distance; needed to close it. He vaulted over the chest of drawers, left Cloud and Highwind behind but he had to trust Cloud wouldn't just slash down and be done.
He tried to get under Wallace's guard; the guy threw the armchair at his head. Zack had to kick it into pieces, dodge a fist -- and then he was close enough to throw his elbow at Barret's head.
He missed; Wallace had seen it coming and thrown himself back, avoided or blocked the entire follow-up sequence, how the hell shit one of Cloud's sparring partners of course he'd know how Zack fought.
He was good, too, if rough-edged; his footwork was surprisingly light for a man his size, and he punched like a chocobo kicks. Must win a lot of bar brawls with that.
Zack had been trained as a frontline soldier, which meant he hit first and hit hard enough to make sure people stayed down. And if his body didn't want to let him fight like himself, if his muscles moved wrong, if Wallace knew his style anyway...
The fist came his way like a freight train and he didn't think, just let his body move, deflect it just barely, just enough -- grab and add his own weight to the momentum, topple back with that huge body flying at him -- kick now!
Crash. Wallace's body smashed through a pile of barstools and a box of glasses. A basic throw, and not perfectly executed -- he'd forgotten to let go of Barret's wrist and had been dragged along on the floor as the huge body flew overhead, but he'd really never been much into judo anyway. He flipped back up on his feet. There was glass all over the floor and his feet were bare because none of Cloud's shoes fit, but even dazed the target was still moving, trying to level that gun-arm at his chest. He went into the following throat-strike.
"Fair, stand down."
The voice cut through all the noise, the yelling he hadn't been listening to and the crashing furniture and tinkling glass and the blood beating in his ears. He froze, fist cocked.
"That's enough, First."
Sephiroth was awake, standing there beside Cloud (the hair still gave Zack a brief jolt of weird, of who?) Awake, meaning he could protect himself.
Cloud was standing right between him and Highwind, and he had his side to him, watching Zack and Wallace more than him. When Zack straightened up he could see his hand on Sephiroth's forearm, as if ... Zack wasn't sure, telling him 'we've got it' or 'it's just a brawl, please don't get involved', and... not even appearing to notice.
It wouldn't be pretty if he did, and even less if Highwind did. Zack turned back to Wallace, still dazed and groaning in his pile of broken stools and vaguely glaring up at Zack, and held out his hand. "You know," he said as thoughtfully as he could, "maybe I should have gotten myself a sword after all. I'm a lot less hair-triggery when I'm armed. Truce?"
"Here Spike was telling us all about what a nice guy you are. You're a lot more ruthless than you look, ain't ya," Highwind commented, slanting a long, meaningful, not-happy look at said Spike.
... Okay, there was no denying it, so Zack just shrugged and yanked Wallace up on his feet. Oof. "SOLDIER First Class," he pointed out. "You don't get there by being a pushover. Doesn't mean I'm not nice! I'm plenty nice, and friendly, and helpful--"
"And modest," Cloud muttered under his breath, by reflex.
"...And all around a great guy to have as your friend!"
Not a great one to have as your enemy, he didn't say. Maybe he was still feeling a bit twitchy, because he was sure when he grinned up at Barret it was full of too many edges to truly be the peace offering it was trying to be.
"A friend helps you move; a great friend help you move the bodies, right?" Highwind snorted and turned back to Sephiroth. "Well. It's a moot point now. Let's go downstairs."
Zack brushed a few glass shards off his shirt and followed Wallace down. He took it slow, though, until Sephiroth was almost on his heels. Sephiroth could deal with Cloud and Highwind at his back; Zack would deal with the unknowns at his front.
Previous
Contrary to his own expectations Cloud slept the whole way through the trip back home. He'd thought he would fret himself wide awake, or be questioned for new info, but when he went to put down his and Tifa's things in a cabin he indulged in a few minutes' sit-down on a bunk bed, waiting for lift-off, and the next thing he knew Reeve was knocking at his door telling him they'd be in Edge in ten minutes and did he want to join them on the bridge.
He had a feeling they'd talked without him, and that there were things they weren't going to share. He told himself that was fine, expected. (And nothing he didn't deserve anyway.)
At least he wasn't quite as exhausted anymore.
He followed Reeve to the bridge, past the wide glass bays. No one was there but Cid himself, and one of his employees, manning the helm and looking very much like he was pretending to be elsewhere, so as to avoid attracting attention from his captain.
Cid stood close to the glass, watching the gray plains stretched underneath, dotted with startling green -- dark, hardy little bushes, yellow-tinted desert grasses, not anything vivid, but nonetheless unexpected. Cloud joined him there, hands in his pockets. He had a feeling the area around Midgar would stay a desert a while longer, but the grassy plains of Kalm gained back a little more every year.
Cloud almost asked Cid what he had planned in case Sephiroth was just playing along so they'd gather where he could easily find and kill them all in one go, in case they were rushing headlong into a trap.
Almost, because it wasn't like they could afford not to go to him, anyway. Whether this was a trap or not they had to go and check, go and fight. The Turks might manage to fight him for a little while, but win? Even for Avalanche it wasn't a guarantee. No doubt the others had thought it out, and come exactly to the same conclusion. Still, he was glad Vincent and Yuffie would be safely out of reach; even if all the people present today died...
"Aeris and your friend. If things go sour and they turn on us," said Cid. Cloud flinched, stared at him.
"Cid, what the hell?" The very suggestion made him sick to his stomach.
"If things go sour," Cid repeated stubbornly, sparing him a quick glare, "I don't want you on Sephiroth. He'd be expectin' you. I want you on your friend. He's a SOLDIER, right? We don't need that at our backs."
Cloud shoved his fists deeper into his pockets.
"... Did you hear me, Strife?"
The stern, scowling look Cid sent him there said, clear as day, 'you are not out of the doghouse yet.' Cloud reluctantly surrendered. "... Yes sir."
He knew one of the others already had Cloud-wrangling duty in case he got possessed and they wouldn't tell him who it was; he wouldn't know unless and until it was needed. He didn't take that personally. Going against Zack disturbed him more. Just the thought made him feel guilty, traitorous already.
Having his loyalty divided like this... He hated it. He hated even more knowing that even if Avalanche was the side he wanted to be on, the side he should logically support, the side against Sephiroth...
Stalling Zack he could do. Injuring him, he didn't know. Made him queasy. Killing him was right out; he'd rather surrender straight away. What kind of credible threat could he offer? They'd see right through his bluff, he wasn't that great an actor.
... Injuring Zack -- in the heat of the moment, he could see. He still wasn't okay with the way Zack's loyalty was divided, either. If Sephiroth proved to be a danger, and Zack stood in the way, he could see getting angry -- betrayed -- enough to fight him.
Outside of a fight he had no idea how to deal with either of them, he or Aeris, how to deal with any of this. He'd mourned them, would have mourned them until the day he died, but here they were, surprise!, we know you've tried to move on but now you should move back.
He wanted to move back. It was terrifying how much he wanted it. Huh, he thought, not even that surprised. No wonder he'd skipped town as soon as possible.
"Reeve," Cid called back. Cloud looked up. "You got another Cait in the area?"
Standing at the helm with Cid's employee, Reeve winced. "As it happens, I do. But..." A sigh. "We'll have to use it sparingly. There's automated routines, but it won't be able to be sentient at the same time as the one I left with Yuffie."
"What, it can't?" Cid huffed, planted his hands on his hips. "Why the hell not?"
"Because," Reeve replied with a bit of a wry 'do I ask you why your ships can't fly in reverse' expression on his face, "Cait Sith is a remote-controlled self-learning artificial intelligence, and when two of him make the AI evolve in different directions the whole database crashes. And since the AI at times uses new data to reinterpret old info I can't just delete the last day and reboot him, I might have to edit up to a month or worse of data in order to integrate everything." He sighed, pulled out a handheld computer thing, tapped a few buttons. "It'll be at the bar in twelve minutes."
Cid made a little moue, checked the horizon. At this speed Cloud estimated they'd be in Edge in fifteen. "Alright... I'll call Vince, ask if he needs support right now. If he doesn't, Cait's on Aeris. Knock her clean out right from the start, or at least keep her busy, we don't need to be dealing with her spells or her tryin ta heal 'em. And the rest of us will be on him, keepin' him busy until Cloud is done."
No need to explain who that 'him' was.
Cid leaned over a console and flicked a button. "Alright, ladies, your makeup better be done. Everybody to the bridge. Time to go."
--
Tifa didn't have houseplants in her bar, or her house, but she did have old terracotta pots in the mess of her attic, and a couple packets of seeds, never planted. Aeris had sent Zack out earlier, to dig out some soil and fill a pot, as she sorted out dead seed from dormant. She was more or less content right now, arms dusty up to the elbows, dark dirt under her nails, even though all the earth Zack had found was polluted almost to the point of uselessness. There was still some life in there, stubborn, struggling.
With their friends on their way back it wasn't the best time to take up horticulture again, and she hoped Tifa wouldn't begrudge her the use of her things (it didn't seem likely, abandoned as they had been in some dusty corner), but she would rather not fall back into that old nail-biting habit. She'd kicked it when she was twelve; be a little silly to return to it now. It was better to have something to keep her hands occupied, and she'd already done all the laundry she could.
Also it was reassuring, faint as it was, to feel the lifeblood of the Planet between her hands like a slow, steady heartbeat. She was still part of the Planet, one of a myriad of pieces of a gigantic organism, and still doing her task; purifying, even in such piddling amounts.
She could feel Sephiroth's life nearby, a permanent shower of sparks, oddly slowed down at the moment, the reaching, searching trails of life-light clear enough that she wondered if he ever could learn the trick of it, the planet-healing, or if his not being Cetra was without recourse.
She couldn't feel Zack much, even though his life energy was hardly what she would call weak. He was... more contained. Veiled.
So was the man sitting outside the bar, a faint shadow to her senses, but one that had stayed unmoving long enough for her to feel its edges even through the indistinct feather-blurs of other passersby.
Aeris let the soil flow from her hands and back in the pot, climbed to her feet, cranked up the metal blinds. Opened the front door, and crossed the street, not too busy at this hour, and sat on the other end of his windowsill.
"It's nice to see you again, Barret."
She waited as he watched her, the man silent, almost subdued. Barret was a loud, opinioned man, quick to physical displays of negative emotion; most people imagined this meant he was all rough edges and hard clear through, but she had always known. Revenge against Shinra was not even half the reason he had gone against them; if he'd just wanted payback getting rid of Scarlet would have been enough. Scarlet was the one who'd ruined his town, killed his wife, broken Dyne.
Or Barret could have run away with Marlene, done nothing but be her father, kept himself safe so he'd always be here to keep her safe. He'd seen the rot that Shinra spread, though, to the world he couldn't ignore and to Marlene's future both, so it had never been a choice. He was a man with a grudge to settle, yes, but that had never meant he hadn't cared deeply about a great many things -- rather the opposite.
"...Hey," he said eventually, voice rough, low.
She smiled faintly, an acknowledgement almost as subdued as his own. She didn't want him thinking she took him lightly; she remembered how badly too much levity had gone over with Cloud and Tifa.
He looked away, as if there was something in the middle of the street. "Wasn't s'posed to go in."
There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice -- being forbidden things like a child? Being caught lurking? She smiled a little wider. "I'm not supposed to come out either. In case someone who knew me before sees me."
He grunted. "Makes sense."
"I figure since you're here it'll be maybe a few more hours before I can come out again, anyway... It doesn't matter much anymore if rumors start to spread now."
He spared her a quick glance, but otherwise didn't respond. Aeris let the silence fall again, cars driving past and people dodging their stretched out legs on the sidewalk, some sparing the unlikely pair they made mildly curious looks, most of them not even that much. There was a rhythm to the street just like there was one to the Lifestream, ebb and flow, patterns just out of reach that she felt she ought to be able to read.
There was a pattern to Barret's thoughts, and she couldn't read them (no matter what Sephiroth thought) but she felt the ebb and flow of his anger, his betrayed feelings, his anguish. His love. His gratefulness.
"Tifa tells me that Marlene calls my mother Grandma," she said quietly into one of those lulls. "I can't tell you how much it means to me. Knowing I would be leaving her alone -- it was..."
"Goddamnit." Barret rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, angry and pained both. "I can't figure out how pissed off I am at you. You're not fightin' fair."
Of course not. She was fighting to win. She didn't answer that; he had a right to his anger. It didn't mean she wasn't telling the truth, anyway.
"You got yerself caught for my little girl once."
"You came to save me. There's no debt left. No imbalance."
He flinched, turned to glare at her, anguish swelling under his skin, coming out raw in his voice. "You died for us!"
She ignored the passersby startled by his outburst, too curious now, slowing down to listen in; they didn't matter, didn't have enough background knowledge to understand, to believe.
"... I never meant to die, Barret. I found I was willing, when it happened, but if I could have avoided it -- if I had known what was coming... I'd like to think I would have had the strength to do it anyway, but we'll never know." She shook her head. "It's not a debt, anyway. By then, we were friends, and you don't keep count with friends."
He tore himself away from her eyes, turned in his seat so he couldn't see her anymore, on the verge of simply getting up and getting away; his flesh hand clenched hard on his knee, so tight she could feel the bruise about to bloom under the skin. She didn't reach out; it was just a bruise and he needed his distances more than such a little thing fixed.
"Didn't used to be so cold," he muttered eventually, sneaking her a tired look, head hanging, over his shoulder.
Aeris flinched a little, startled. "It's not --" It... sort of was; she hadn't lied at any point, but the way she used the truth was manipulative even so. She thought he meant her tone, anyway, but she couldn't -- she couldn't find the balance between thoughtful and reasonable, and dispassionate, like she hadn't found it between friendly and dismissive with Cloud and Tifa, at first. "...Am I really?" she said, more in pained admission than denial.
"... aw, hell. Not a -- not a I don't care cold. Scalpel-cold. Steady hand, deep lil' cuts. I don't remember ya like that."
Aeris bit her lip, looked away. She really couldn't deny it. She'd changed, in the Lifestream; she was starting to get hints that not all of the changes had been good. She'd just...
How was she supposed to show her care for one single person, again, when she once had to care for a whole world? She only remembered that it didn't use to be so complicated.
"...I'm sorry."
"... S'okay. It was all true, too."
"Barret, I--"
"I don't wanna talk with you right now." He shook his head, teeth gritted. "I'm so pissed off. He fuckin' killed you, and now you turn on us? I don't get it, I don't fuckin' want to get it, I--"
He drew in a deep, shuddery breath, forced his fist down and into his pocket, back still turned.
"No talkin'. Not now. I -- can't."
She didn't say anything, only nodded her acquiescence, even though he couldn't see. After a long moment Barret slowly sat back down on the windowsill, beside her, though he kept staring straight ahead. Neither of them talked, not until a ship came to a hovering stop over their heads and Cloud and their friends rappelled down into the street.
--
Body on a slab. That was familiar, even if the things said body came wrapped in weren't. The clothes were the least of it; the only thing wide enough to fit Sephiroth's shoulders to be found in Cloud's closet was a round-collared t-shirt, washed soft, colors faded until the band logo could barely be seen. Zack had seen Sephiroth in civilian clothing exactly twice before, and both times he'd gone with pristine button-up shirts and slacks; one time on a trip to Northern he'd put on a black SOLDIER-issue turtleneck under his coat -- but at least Zack had imagined him in more casual stuff.
It was the other change that Zack's eyes kept coming back to, strange and weird and a little wrong, not that he would ever say so.
The man sleeping before him didn't look like a living legend, like a bigger-than-life warrior. He looked like a model on his day off, perhaps -- or a highly successful executive slumming it, actually. Zack made a note to find him fake glasses to complete the look--
Something was on the roof.
He couldn't have said what alerted him; there had been very little noise, all easily explained away. The hair on the back of his neck was all up anyway. He eased himself up on his feet, slow and graceful, every single gesture controlled, and ghosted across the least creaky planks. He'd pinpointed them earlier so he wouldn't wake Sephiroth again; he didn't wake him now.
It'd be a bad idea to greet Cloud's friends armed -- it was just a step removed from hostile -- so Zack had left Cloud's swords on their rack, a floor down, and now he was cursing himself a bit. He just had the bracer with the Seal and Barrier in it.
Soft, padded feet, almost silent on tiles. The beams supporting the roof creaked under a massive weight. It didn't move like a human. Would there really be monsters so far in a living area?
Two floors down the front door of the bar opened, the bell dancing; maybe Aeris coming back in. She wasn't carrying any offensive magic, though, and he didn't want to alert the monster. She climbed the steps...
No, that wasn't her walk. That was--
When Cloud and the other, older blond man stepped into the attic, they found Zack under the skylight still, head tilted, still tracking. He flicked them an acknowledging glance, lifted a finger to ask them to wait, pointed at the roof. Cloud started his own cat-footed, stalking approach through the maze of old furniture on what seemed like pure blind trust, and then stopped in his tracks.
"--Oh. No, it's okay, that's just -- holy fuck."
"Huh?" Okay, what -- oh, Cloud had just seen Sephiroth. Zack eyed the ceiling, frowning, even as he simmered down from hunting-mindset.
"That's Nanaki," said the older blond with the three-days beard. "He's with us. Spike?"
Zack wasn't sure what to keep track of; the huge black man who'd just paused in the doorway, Cloud's reaction to Sephiroth's new look, the ... big, red-furred predator head that had just appeared at the window...
"That's Nanaki?" he repeated dubiously. The beast gave him a polite nod of greeting, head craned at an uncomfortable angle.
"And you are Zack Fair, I presume? It's nice to make your acquaintance."
Well. Never let it be said that Cloud didn't have interesting tastes in friends. "Ah, likewise."
The skylight was too small to open and let the ... Nanaki in; he cracked it open anyway, to make conversation easier, threw the beast a quick, perfunctory smile, and turned to look at the scene.
A faster approach would probably have pinged Seph's radar, he'd have started trying to wake, but Cloud had approached slowly, and the other blond man casually, not in a suspicious sneaky way, and the black man was tall enough that he didn't need to get as close in order to see over the chest of drawers. The weight of those stares might be enough to do it, though.
"So, who are you guys?" he asked, light and friendly, to distract them. Cloud blinked up at him.
"Cid Highwind," said the older blond, pointing at himself with his thumb, and then at the black man over his shoulder, "Barret Wallace."
"... What happened to his hair?"
There was the strangest expression on Cloud's face. Zack shrugged. "You'll have to ask him that yourself. I guess he felt like a change of image."
Cloud shook his head in bewilderment, and then frowned, as if reminding himself to be stern. Highwind's eyes were narrowed in thought, suspicious but cool. Wallace...
Wallace might be a more immediate kind of trouble. Zack smiled a little wider and stepped around Sephiroth's feet.
"Everyone's gathering downstairs. Think he'd wake if we picked him up and brought him?"
"Likely," Zack replied. Highwind chewed on the end of his cigarette.
"Can't have a group talk with half of us up here to guard him. Can't leave him without as we chat elsewhere, either." Highwind glanced at Nanaki, who might be unable to come in but could still cast through the window. Zack frowned a bit. He wanted to be right there where the discussion was happening, but leaving Seph alone, now that wasn't happening.
"He said he was willing to do his best not to kill anyone in self-defense," Cloud said slowly, reluctantly, "but he never said he wouldn't defend himself. Or how far we could push before he stopped trying. So once we wake him up... If we decide to put him down after all we'll have a serious fight on our hands." And then he didn't say what'd happen, he just looked at Highwind, like he was waiting for him to... Zack didn't know.
"So don't wake him up first," Wallace growled, and whoa, that was a pretty sweet high-powered gun on that arm. Would make a nice hole at this range.
"Might not be a bad idea," Highwind said calmly.
"I promised," Cloud replied with irritation.
"Well, we didn't."
Cloud seemed to be at a loss, his eyes scanning Sephiroth's still body, his sleeping face. His fists were clenched. He didn't say anything.
Regretfully, Zack took a few slow steps in the narrow space between them and Sephiroth, crowding them into taking a step back. "I wouldn't let you." Highwind's eyes narrowed at him. Zack met them, steady, utterly serious. "He's been promised a fair trial. He'll get it."
Highwind was still analyzing. Cloud was flinching with guilt, not about to shift into a fighting -- killing -- mindset quite yet. Wallace was behind the chest of drawers.
Zack was a bit surprised when a huge fist lashed out at his head. He didn't pause to think, or to decipher the snarled imprecations that came with it; he reacted, grabbing a wrist and yanking it down with his weight, flipping around on it like a gym bar as he kicked at the man's head.
His heel connected with Barret's jaw, too shallow to break it or properly shake his brain. The distance was wrong, the way his hips bent was wrong, his body was wrong. No time. Gun-arm was long-distance; needed to close it. He vaulted over the chest of drawers, left Cloud and Highwind behind but he had to trust Cloud wouldn't just slash down and be done.
He tried to get under Wallace's guard; the guy threw the armchair at his head. Zack had to kick it into pieces, dodge a fist -- and then he was close enough to throw his elbow at Barret's head.
He missed; Wallace had seen it coming and thrown himself back, avoided or blocked the entire follow-up sequence, how the hell shit one of Cloud's sparring partners of course he'd know how Zack fought.
He was good, too, if rough-edged; his footwork was surprisingly light for a man his size, and he punched like a chocobo kicks. Must win a lot of bar brawls with that.
Zack had been trained as a frontline soldier, which meant he hit first and hit hard enough to make sure people stayed down. And if his body didn't want to let him fight like himself, if his muscles moved wrong, if Wallace knew his style anyway...
The fist came his way like a freight train and he didn't think, just let his body move, deflect it just barely, just enough -- grab and add his own weight to the momentum, topple back with that huge body flying at him -- kick now!
Crash. Wallace's body smashed through a pile of barstools and a box of glasses. A basic throw, and not perfectly executed -- he'd forgotten to let go of Barret's wrist and had been dragged along on the floor as the huge body flew overhead, but he'd really never been much into judo anyway. He flipped back up on his feet. There was glass all over the floor and his feet were bare because none of Cloud's shoes fit, but even dazed the target was still moving, trying to level that gun-arm at his chest. He went into the following throat-strike.
"Fair, stand down."
The voice cut through all the noise, the yelling he hadn't been listening to and the crashing furniture and tinkling glass and the blood beating in his ears. He froze, fist cocked.
"That's enough, First."
Sephiroth was awake, standing there beside Cloud (the hair still gave Zack a brief jolt of weird, of who?) Awake, meaning he could protect himself.
Cloud was standing right between him and Highwind, and he had his side to him, watching Zack and Wallace more than him. When Zack straightened up he could see his hand on Sephiroth's forearm, as if ... Zack wasn't sure, telling him 'we've got it' or 'it's just a brawl, please don't get involved', and... not even appearing to notice.
It wouldn't be pretty if he did, and even less if Highwind did. Zack turned back to Wallace, still dazed and groaning in his pile of broken stools and vaguely glaring up at Zack, and held out his hand. "You know," he said as thoughtfully as he could, "maybe I should have gotten myself a sword after all. I'm a lot less hair-triggery when I'm armed. Truce?"
"Here Spike was telling us all about what a nice guy you are. You're a lot more ruthless than you look, ain't ya," Highwind commented, slanting a long, meaningful, not-happy look at said Spike.
... Okay, there was no denying it, so Zack just shrugged and yanked Wallace up on his feet. Oof. "SOLDIER First Class," he pointed out. "You don't get there by being a pushover. Doesn't mean I'm not nice! I'm plenty nice, and friendly, and helpful--"
"And modest," Cloud muttered under his breath, by reflex.
"...And all around a great guy to have as your friend!"
Not a great one to have as your enemy, he didn't say. Maybe he was still feeling a bit twitchy, because he was sure when he grinned up at Barret it was full of too many edges to truly be the peace offering it was trying to be.
"A friend helps you move; a great friend help you move the bodies, right?" Highwind snorted and turned back to Sephiroth. "Well. It's a moot point now. Let's go downstairs."
Zack brushed a few glass shards off his shirt and followed Wallace down. He took it slow, though, until Sephiroth was almost on his heels. Sephiroth could deal with Cloud and Highwind at his back; Zack would deal with the unknowns at his front.