Chapter 1: "I Knew Him A Long Time Ago…"

The Seventh Heaven was alive that night, filled to capacity with its usual company as well as a dozen others, men and women alike. For a long time the bar had been well known among the male audience, mainly—if not completely—because of the head waitress, Tifa Lockheart. But now a group of women had begun to hang out there as well, trying to catch a glimpse of the assistant cook. Word in the slums was that he was ruggedly handsome with body to spare. This alone was enough to grab extra customers, and none of the staff was complaining.

"Hey, Ox!" one of the men called, using the nickname that had seemed to stick ever since its creation. "This here's the best shit I've tasted in weeks! Keep it up!"

"Don't call him that," a woman at his side whined, punching him ineffectively in the arm. "Yur so mean."

"Jus' tell Tifa to watch out," the man's comrade laughed. "Her cookin' ain't top notch anymore, and he may take her spot as waitress, too!"

This brought a round of laughter from the group, clinking their glasses together. "Can'ya imagine ol' Ox in one'a them leather numbers?" one of the first man's drunken comrades said.

Standing behind the bar, Sabin shook his head. "Hell no," he replied rigidly, preparing another piece of meat for the skillet. "Not unless I want Don Corneo after me."

"You'd make a hell'uva woman!"

"Stop getting the customers all worked up," Tifa warned as she passed, restocking her tray. "They're so drunk they might try something."

Sabin laughed, returning to the food. He was as the rumors said: tall and heavily built with cropped sandy hair and dark skin. Some said his complexion was because he'd lived on the plate once, and was exposed to daylight sun often. Even after that he hadn’t lived in the sun-starved streets of Midgar. When asked about it he only laughed and countered with some stupid question of his own, losing the matter in a flow of idle conversation. After a while everyone stopped asking. Equally mystifying was the item he wore around his neck: a simple coin on length of thin rope, something he was never without.

At closing time the customers were reluctant to leave, but Tifa and Sabin worked together in shooing them away. Finally the bar was quiet. But then, not completely empty.

A solidly built black man in his thirties appeared out of the thinning crowd, greeting the staff casually and picking a seat at one of the center tables. Tifa brought drinks as the others followed the tough man's lead, muttering complaints about the work that day and giving their latest member a hard time. He laughed and accused them of being jealous.

"Settle down, kids," the black man grumbled—Barret Wallace, creator and leader of the secret group Avalanche, a small rebel band planning to wipe out the Shin-ra Power Company for good. He was a sturdy and determined sort of man, if not ill tempered. The most interesting thing about him perhaps was his right arm; it had no hand, and in its place was a machine gun that had been grafted to the limb long ago. "We're working up to our first job, and I want everything to go smoothly. How's it look?"

"Pretty good so far," Jessie reported, the technical member of the group. She was in her late twenties and brunette, not stunning but not unpleasant looking. "If we go for a hit on the Number One Reactor, it shouldn't be too bad."

On either side of her were Biggs and Wedge, Biggs slightly older than she was and Wedge slightly younger. Next to Biggs, sitting backwards in his chair, was the tan-skinned Sabin, and between him and Barret, Tifa. She was twenty with long brunette hair swept back, and a body proportioned in all the right places. Her figure, however, hid a well-trained fighting power.

And thus was Avalanche.

"You've gotta be careful around the reactors," Sabin warned, elbows rested casually on the table. "There's something weird about them, that's for sure."

"Like what?" Barret asked.

He shook his head. "Don't know, but I've heard stuff. Really top secret and so on and so on."

Tifa glanced at him curiously. "How do you know so much about Shin-ra anyway? Oh, I mean…" She cringed, not wanting to have sounded so suspicious. They needed his help and the last thing that would help was accusations. "Not to pry…"

"We're all wondering," Jessie added, backing her up.

Sabin bit his lip, contemplated the ceiling a moment, and finally nodded. "Yeah, I used to live on the plate," he said, waving a hand absently as if trying to generate a response from thin air. "My brother's pretty big in the Shin-ra Company, but everyone treated me like the runt. It wasn't bad—they left me alone. But then I found out some stuff, and got outta there." He raised an eyebrow. "But don't go marking me wrong—I can fight. They wanted me to join SOLDIER when I was old enough. That was ten years ago."

The group fell silent, divulging his tale. It was Tifa who spoke up first. "Well, we're glad to have you," she said cheerfully, laying a hand on his arm. "We can really use the help, right Barret?"

"Sure," he grunted. "Especially if you know your way around."

"I spent fifteen years in that place. Not anxious to go back, but it's the planet, right?"

"Damn right. Mako energy keeps the planet alive: if they keep sucking it out'a the ground the way they are, no one's gonna last much longer."

"A toast," Jessie prompted, lifting her glass. "To the planet."

Biggs glanced at her sideways. "Sounds kinda funny," he laughed. "Like toasting the moon or something."

"It would be like that, if we lived on the moon."

He laughed again. "Yeah, sure. For the planet."

Sabin smiled faintly, lost in some other thoughts of his own. "For the planet."

Midgar was undoubtedly the largest city on the globe. Known throughout the world as a center of technology and power, there was no location left unaffected by its spreading empire. To those who lived there it was a difficult but rewarding way of life; the city was made in two layers, so that those who lived on the upper half, known as the plate, were separated from the common folk that lived below. This place was known as the slums. It was a solemn place where sunlight and clean air were only a memory.

Shin-ra owed all its success to the energy known as Mako, a mysterious power that resided deep beneath the surface of the earth. This energy was pulled to the surface by a ring of eight Mako Reactors that surrounded the city and powered its residences. This gave them power over all things. There were the strongest organization known to man.

"You're telling me there's no way of salvaging?" Sitting behind his desk, the President of Shin-ra puffed on a fat cigar. "I thought you said this was the real thing."
"So I did, sir, but several uncontrollable factors came into play. Things didn't work as planned. He's too weak, and no good to us."

"You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes, sir. Should I have him…killed?"

"Just get rid of him. I don't care how you do it."

"Yes, sir."

"This is it," Barret said as the train screeched to a halt near the Shin-ra's Number One Reactor. He and his companions quickly prepared for what was ahead. "Don't ever move in a group 'less you have to. You all know the way."

His four accomplices nodded, readying their minds for battle as the door slid open.

General Celes Chere moved swiftly down the corridor with all the grace of movement that was natural to her, even as her steps were urgent with apprehension. Her long, blond hair was disheveled, and she was forced to finish dressing as she walked—still she was tightening the laces on her skin-tight outfit, and then she set upon fastening her belt that displayed the ensignia of SOLDIER: the strongest men in the world. It was often thought ironic that the "strongest men in the world" were lead by a woman.

But she had no time to ponder that now. Everything had come apart. There weren't any options left, and she knew what she had to do. Ignoring the guards, she made her way to the sixty-second floor, to a dark corridor in the center of the building. It wasn't guarded now because nobody cared anymore.

"Cloud?" She pushed on the door, and was puzzled when it resisted her. "Cloud, are you in there?"

"Who's there?" a voice spoke through the intercom: a female. "I need some ID."

"For god's sake, Lucca, open the door," Celes demanded, pounding on the metal angrily. There wasn't much time.

The door opened, revealing the soft-featured face of young genius Lucca Rannel. She adjusted her thick-framed glasses, surprised by the bright light of the corridor—at least, it seemed bright as the room she was in hid in pitch darkness. "Celes," she stammered, moving aside. She grinned sheepishly, combing back short strands of her violet hair. "Sorry, thought you were an executive."

Celes thought briefly that Lucca had a lot to learn about dealing with executives. Her humor, however, was momentarily lost to her. "Well, you won't have to worry about them coming here anymore," she replied coldly. "President Shin-ra cancelled the program."

"Wha—why? What the hell for?" Though young, she had quite a temper when she needed it. "They're giving up?"

"Apparently. Now, where is he?" Celes reached for a light switch, but Lucca caught her hand.

"Don't," she instructed firmly. "He's finally asleep. They drugged him up real good last time, and it hasn't had time to—"

"We don't have time; they're going to kill him."

Lucca caught her breath, startled. "He's over here."

"Looks like they gave him some last workout," Celes commented bitterly. "All this time and they still treat him like an animal." Cloud was lying on his stomach in bed, uncovered by the thin sheets and still clad in the battle outfit Shin-ra had supplied him with as a member of SOLDIER. His skin was dampened with sweat, and his breath was shallow. The general hissed several curses as she checked the monitors that were forever beeping at his bedside. "He's really under. Damn fools—that stuff'd kill him eventually." She began to unplug the equipment. "Help me get him up."

Lucca nodded, grunting with the effort as they dragged him off the bed. He slumped to the ground like a broken doll. "This is gonna be harder than we thought. Isn't there someone we can get to help us?"

"No time." Celes pulled the man's arm over her shoulder, making a face as she slipped her other arm around his waist and hoisted them both to their feet. "God, he smells. Grab that sword of his."

"You mean, if I can lift it," she muttered. The blade itself was a foot thick and four feet long. As soon as she'd taken hold of the handle she knew she was in trouble. "This thing weighs a ton!" she hissed, trying to lift it. "A little help here?"

"I can't carry that and him."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

Celes grunted, stretching to reach the door handle. "Damn it, well never get out at this rate." Finally the door swung open. "If you can get that thing over here, I'll hook it on his back and we'll both help carry him. Hurry up."

"I'm working on it." Lucca grimaced, dragging the huge steel toward them. "If this works, Cloud," she muttered under her breath, "you owe me big time."

Edgar flung the jacket of his baby blue suit onto the bed, weary after long hours of boring meetings. They didn't mean anything to him anymore. Despite his strength of voice and no matter what he proposed, he was always denied and scorned. "Interesting," President Shin-ra would say, puffing on his cigar, "but I don't think we can accommodate that right now. Bring it up another time, son."

Son. God, he hated that man.

A girl slipped inside just as he was beginning to undo his cufflinks, and though her presence was usually enough to lift his spirits, now he wasn't in the mood. "Hello there," he called half-heatedly.

"Hello yourself," Nadia said, carrying a tray with two glasses over to him. "Need wine?"

"Sure." He downed the drink and sat heavily down on the bed, bouncing on the thick mattress. "What a mess," he muttered, tossing the glass behind him and not caring where it landed.

She sat next to him. "Bad day?"

"Yeah." Edgar rubbed his eyes, feeling suddenly sick from the taste of the alcohol. "More meetings. They want to build another Mako Reactor to replace the one in Gongaga, since that one self-destructed. I voted against it. My vote would have made the sides equal, but Shin-ra's going along with it anyway." He shook his head. "That area's no good for a reactor, and this one'll most likely blow itself up too. No matter how hard I fight, it's never enough. They don't understand."

Nadia glance at him curiously. "But you're the King," she said. "Aren't you the one that's supposed to be in charge?"

"Supposed to be," he snorted. With slow movements he stood and made his way to the room's one large window. She followed, and watched him as his eyes roamed sadly over the city. "This was supposed to be a beautiful city, once. The most prosperous and advanced city in the world, ruled by a king." His voice and expression were very distant, lost in a vision he could see before him but not reach. "But when more power was needed the Shin-ra Company introduced Mako energy, and grew as the richest institution of that age—more than the monarchy, because everyone needs power, but not everyone wants to be ruled by a king. Slowly, Shin-ra's president gained popularity because of the promises he made. The king—my grandfather—was reduced to a figurehead. Figaro became Midgar." He closed his eyes. "Since then the royal family has been used to promote propaganda and keep the tradition for the sake of the populace. They trust me more, so Shin-ra makes it look like I'm in control. But I can't do a thing…" His voice trailed off into a low sigh of regret.

"Why don't you do something to stop them?" Nadia asked. She'd heard that tale before, but sometimes it helped to humor him. "Tell everyone what's going? Surely they'll fight for their king."

Sadly, Edgar lowered his head. "No, I don't think so. Nobody cares anymore. I…I don't blame him for leaving."

"You mean…?"

"…Yes."

"I'm sorry."

He glanced at her briefly. She was a lively girl with blonde hair tied back, and had a slim, delicate figure; she always wore outfits that left her shoulders bare. Yes, she could be a wild one sometimes—hardly what he'd expect from the daughter of President Shin-ra. Reminding himself of this fact he added, "Not that I mean disrespect for your father."

"Oh, I know you do." Nadia smiled grimly, playfully shouldering him. "The way you talk sometimes I'm surprised you don't hire a mercenary to take him out."

"Maybe I should get you on the job."

"My pleasure, believe me." She leaned on the sill, staring out at the smog and filth. "Wouldn't bother me at all."

Edgar smirked with a sudden shift of thoughts, gently poking the base of her jaw with his index finger. "Why don't you ever eat dinner with me, Nadia?"

She shot him a glare. "Aren't I a little young for your taste?"

"Why, how old are you?" He looked her over appraisingly. "Twenty? Twenty-one?"

"Seventeen," she replied pointedly. Obviously he knew her age—they'd known each other for years—and he was trying in his own charming way to flatter her.

"Well, then," he went on brightly, "you will join me for dinner tomorrow, won't you Nadia?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes, but there would be no arguing with him. "Sure, Edgar. Tomorrow for dinner."

His eyes sparked like a little boy's. "Splendid."

The floor shuddered beneath them, and began to shake more violently with the force of some distant explosion. Edgar pulled Nadia away from the window and held her protectively to him as a blast of warm wind rattled the glass, and both wine cups shattered on the floor. A moment later it had passed.

"What happened?" Nadia asked, a bit shaken. "Some kind of explosion?"

"Don't know," the King admitted. Turning his attention toward the window, he could see smoking rising from far away. "Almost looks like…like a reactor blew."

Nadia finally worked her way out of his arms—he was too absorbed in the sight to restrain her. "A reactor? It must have been those terrorists."

"You're probably right, but I'd better find out." He retrieved his jacket, slipping into the sleeves. "Just remember, Nadia," he added as he headed for the door, "we're still on for dinner tomorrow."

She smiled. "Of course."

As soon as she'd heard the explosion, Tifa couldn't help but go outside, figuring she'd meet with everyone at the train station on their way back. The air was cold on her bare arms and legs. Barret had told her to stay at the bar, but she couldn't help her curiosity. She also wanted to be the first to congratulate them, and help if any were injured. No one would suspect her of anything; after all, she was Tifa. By now everyone in Sector Seven knew not to mess with her.

The train station was pretty quiet when she arrived, and she picked a rotting bench to sit on while she waited. Not a breath of air stirred. She reflected that it was ironic, having so calm a night for such a dangerous business. But then she paused, detecting the sound of hushed voices nearby. They sounded like women. Curious, she went to investigate.

Just as she'd assumed, she came upon two women huddled about another form; all she could see of him was a pair of dark pants and boots, stretched out and unmoving. The woman closest to her was wearing a white lab coat that stuck out oddly in the darkness of the Train Graveyard. Her companion was hid effectively by waves of blond hair. Their words were too quiet to be understood, but the tone implied some great urgency. The girl in the lab coat pulled something out of her pocket and held it up. It was a syringe.

Though it was not her business, Tifa felt her heart skip, as if these people were up to no good. She reached for the girl's hand. "Hey, what are you—"

Before she could even get close enough, the girl dropped her needle and spun around, shouting "Back off!" Tifa glanced down to see the barrel of a gun pressed into her neck.

"What's going on?" Tifa demanded, remaining calm and still despite the weapon so close. She took only a minute step back. "What are you doing to that man?"

The second woman stood. She was not much taller than Tifa herself, but she held herself in a way that implied great authority; the yellow and black skin-tight outfit she wore, as well as the intricate design on her belt was also testimony to her high standing. Tifa wondered if she'd seen her before. "She said back off," the woman commanded, her ice blue eyes burning in the darkness. It was a glow that was familiar, deep and silent like a biting winter wind. "This is no concern of yours."

They're Shin-ra Tifa told herself, remaining still. A scientist…and only members of SOLDIER have blue eyes like that. Shin-ra’s private elite fighting force… But a woman? "I don't want any trouble," she started slowly, "but I can't let you hurt that man."

The blond—obviously the elder of the two—made a face that said all before she spoke the words. "I would never harm this man. You don't know what you're talking about, so you might as well leave."

"I can't do that." Tifa glanced to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the man's face, but his head was down. She couldn't see his visage because of the spiky blond hair that—

She caught her breath, fingers going numb as heat spread up the back of her neck. Even without seeing him she knew who it was; knew by the way her heart pounded forcefully in her chest, like waking up from some nightmare she no longer remembered. "Cl…Cloud?"

Both women started, so surprised that neither of them heard the train screeching to a halt some ways away. "Who are you?" the girl with the glasses demanded, jabbing her with her gun. "Tell me or you'll be eating Zonker V28, got it?"

"Calm down," Tifa said, holding her hands up to prove she was unarmed. "My name's Tifa. I knew that man. It’s Cloud, isn’t it?" She was taking a big chance, but if her instincts held true, things would end up all right. She knew they would, somehow. And she had to be sure it was him. "I knew him a long time ago. Can I talk to him, please?"

"Tifa…" Celes felt herself straightening, the muscles in her jaw locking defensively. A quick look over the girl confirmed; this was the girl; the brunette Hojo had taken in and later released, the Tifa Cloud had always spoken of.

Lucca began to lower her weapon, trying to glance back at the general while still watching her target. A flash of movement caught her attention just then as the train was unloading, and a burly black man met her eyes. He signaled to his friends and started to approach. "Uh, Celes," Lucca said nervously, "There's a bunch of mean looking guys coming this way."

"Hey!" Tifa sighed with relief as Barret came running, but then realized that such comfort was misplaced. She was assured of this when Barret started out by saying, "What the hell you bitches doin'?"

"All of you back off," Lucca commanded, switching her gun's focus from Tifa to the new arrival. "Just turn around and go back the way you came, okay? Take this Tifa with you."

"What's going on?" Sabin asked calmly, coming up behind Tifa. He wasn't the brightest of minds, but now he could see it was a time to be serious. "You ladies in some kinda trouble?"

"We're just fine, thanks," Lucca retorted, taking a step back. "We don't need help. Just go."

Barret gave them a once over and, satisfied that they weren't Shin-ra spies and not their concern, took Tifa's arm. "Come on," he muttered, starting to lead her away. "Let's ditch this."

But Tifa wasn't a woman easily deterred. Ignoring everyone she pushed past Celes to kneel at Cloud's side; he'd remained unresponsive and silent throughout the entire exchange. "Cloud?" she asked urgently, shaking him. "Cloud Strife? Wake up—it's me, Tifa. Tifa Lockheart. Do you remember?"

"Stay away from him." Celes yanked her back just as she was beginning to get a response; the man's eyelids fluttered barely. He lifted his head with a groan. The general cursed. "Just get lost, girlie," she snarled, flinging her towards her group.

"Wait, please—"

"What's you're damned problem—"

"Back off!" Lucca's gun went off, and Tifa shrieked as a striking pain flared across her left shoulder. Blood began to spill over her arm. Everything started to lose substance then. She heard Barret yelling and cursing, and a hand steadied her back as the impact sent her reeling. A man's enraged cry filled her ears, and she watched dumbly as Lucca was bludgeoned by a gloved fist and thrown with a loud smack into a deserted train bulk. As quickly as the commotion had started, it ended, a thick silence falling. She raised her head, and started to find herself staring into two shining blue orbs.

Cloud examined her blankly for a long time, his intense eyes sinking into her pale brown ones, as if searching. She felt as if they were wading through her memories, her soul, probing every part of what was her and ever had been her. He was also very cold. Was this really Cloud Strife, the boy she'd known all those years ago, now a man?

"Who are you?" The sound of his voice ripped her from her thoughts, forcing her into awareness with its chilling emptiness. "Where did you come from, and what's your duty here?"

Celes started to speak, but Tifa interrupted with her own answer. "It's me, Tifa," she said, gripping her injured shoulder. "From Nibelheim. We were friends, right? I’m Tifa Lockheart."

The man's face contorted into an expression of bewilderment and anger. "That's a lie," he hissed, stepping toward her. He snatched her collar suddenly, dragging her until they were inches apart. His face towered over her with a malevolent presence. "You're lying. You're not Tifa. Who are you really?"

"I swear it's me, Cloud," she insisted, grimacing as the blood continued to stain her arm. "Don't you remember?"

"You're not Tifa." Still holding her collar Cloud reached behind him, fingers closing around the handle of his sword. It clicked faintly as it freed itself form his back harness. "You can't be. There can be only one."

"Cloud—"

Sabin was there suddenly, landing a swift punch to Cloud's face. Tifa was startled as she was released, and she watched as the man tumbled backwards. "Get Tifa out of here!" Sabin was shouting, his voice painfully loud in her ears. A hand grabbed her wrist to pull her out of range. "Barret, just go!"

"What about you?"

"I'll catch up." Sabin shook his hand, as it stung from the blow he'd delivered. "Just get her safe, okay? Hurry!"

Tifa tried to struggle, but her mind was becoming fuzzy and detached from the constant pain in her injured limb. Biggs and Jesse led her away as Barret unleashed a round of ammunition on the general, who protected herself with a barrier of magic. She made no attempt to counterattack.

Cloud was on his feet now, wiping the blood form his face and spitting dust. He didn't say anything—the taunt showed in his swirling eyes. Sabin attacked again, but was startled as his punch was caught. So was his next.

"Cloud, let him go," Celes demanded, watching out the corner of her eye as Barret turned and disappeared among the corpse trains with his group. "The girl's gone."

"You stay out of this," Sabin sneered over his shoulder. He began to push against his opponent, hoping he could knock him on his back with brute force, but immediately he could tell it wasn't that simple; Cloud was strong, and he pushed back just as much. The contestants found themselves locked in a battle of strength, elbows straining, boots grinding the hard earth. For what seemed like an eternity they went on, pawing the ground like mad bulls. Neither could best the other.

The pair stopped abruptly, clearly intending to use their enemy's own momentum against them. But with both stopped from planning the same strategy, they couldn't make a move. Sabin laughed hoarsely, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Heh. Guess great minds do think alike."

"Don't lower me to your level." Cloud shot forward, leaning over briefly to retrieve his sword before slamming into him hard with his left shoulder plate. Even then he wasn't satisfied. Sabin rolled out of the way just in time to avoid a heavy boot aimed at his skull.

"Cloud, stop it." Celes grabbed his arm fiercely, her face locked in an almost parental look of authority. "He's not worth it. Let's just go." And when he didn't respond: "Are you listening?"

"Shut up!" He snatched her and performed a perfect karate-style toss, flinging the general like a rag doll over his shoulder. "You're not Tifa either!"

She landed practically on her face, too shocked by the suddenness of his attack to even utter a cry of pain. Cloud had never attacked her before, even when he was made insane by Hojo's countless drugs and enhancers. He treated her like a sister. He'd never even gotten angry with her before.

Celes didn't know what to do, an occurrence that was in itself frightening. She felt herself slowly being lifted to her feet. Cold steel touched her neck. "There's no room," his low voice hissed in her ear, "for another Tifa."

Sabin watched in utter confusion, and for a moment considered letting him kill the blond. But a strange feeling convinced him otherwise—almost a familiarity he sensed between himself and this woman. I'll probably regret this, but—

"Let her go, punk!" He attacked with a flying kick, knocking the sword out of his hand. Immediately Cloud switched targets. Several times he attempted to connect with his opponent, but Sabin was too fast. Celes had backed away as the two fought, cursing and sweating, neither sustaining a hit. Frustration drove them to fight harder. Finally Sabin was able to push Cloud back, and he brought his fists together. A strange light began to glow.

Cloud retrieved his sword, but the light exploded, catching him in a beam of burning intensity. He was lifted bodily into the air and swept away in its raging current until beaten hard into the side of another broken machine. Still clutching his weapon, he collapsed onto his stomach. The light dissipated.

The graveyard fell silent, and Sabin took a moment to catch his breath before moving to assure himself that his foe had been immobilized; he hardly believed he could be dead. The body was very still, and he poked it with his toe. Nothing moved. Bracing his hands on his bent knees, the apparent victor gave a short laugh. "Damn." He wiped the sweat from his brow. "You're a tough bitch, you know that?"

The flat of the huge sword slammed brutally into Sabin's leg, forcing him onto his knees with a startled yelp. Cloud rose to his feet, breathing heavily but steadily. He brought the weapon down again.

Celes was there suddenly, having retrieved her companion's original syringe, and she plunged the needle into Cloud's neck. He cursed and swung his fist, smashing her directly in the face. Before she could regain her equilibrium he was far away, bolting into the slum's endless shadows.

Celes growled in frustration, running her fingers probingly over her nose—most certainly broken. A quick spell halted the bleeding while another worked the bone back into place, but neither was able to counteract the headache that accompanied his blow. She considered following, but remembered Lucca, still lying unconscious. And this new man. She didn't care about him—he was lucky Cloud had decided not to use the sharpened side of the blade—but his face seemed familiar to her, and she didn't want to leave him in this place, vulnerable to any thief or gutter trash that may stumble across him.

Angered by her own sentimentality, she moved Lucca next to her unconscious peer so that both would be under her watchful eye. Grumbling to herself she sat down nearby, her intellect searching the dark canopy above for the options she had.

Back at Seventh Heaven, Tifa had her arm cleaned and bandaged, but that wasn't the end of her ailments. "I can't believe it," she said quietly, staring down at the drink Jessie had given her. "That was him—I'm sure of it. But what did they do to him?" She ran a hand through her thick brown hair. "And why didn't he recognize me? It had to be him…"

"Did you see his eyes?" Wedge asked with frightened excitement in his voice. "That guy was in SOLDIER, I bet. And that woman—"

"Didn't expect Shin-ra t' hire women," Barret grunted, then added "No offense Tifa, Jessie."

"It's okay." Tifa placed her hand on the table, and was surprised to see that it was trembling. She quickly confined it to her lap. "I didn't either. But Cloud…he must have made it."

Everyone crowded around, anxious to hear their friend's explanation, but she only shook her head. "I…I can't tell you guys right now," she said diffidently. "I'm still trying to figure some things out. I just need a little time."

"In any case," Barret spoke up, "Sabin hasn't come back, and I'm gett'n worried." He started over towards the door. "Biggs, come with me—I'm going after him. The rest stay here and watch Tifa."

She pushed out of her chair. "But Barret, I—"

"I said stay." His tone indicated that no argument would work. "That maniac tried to kill you whether or not you knew him, and I don't want you gett'n him all riled again. Besides, you're injured." Without another word he stormed out the door with Biggs trailing behind.

Tifa sank into her chair once more, her emotions a turbulent storm that thundered with painful reverberations through her mind. She felt lost and afraid—afraid? She scrutinized her feelings carefully. Afraid of Cloud? How could she be? Back when she knew him he'd never been warm-hearted or gentle, but she'd never feared him. They'd grown up in the same town. But now…now his eyes were glowing with cold secrets, filled with power she didn't understand. Something from long ago, a fear that lived dormant and without a name inside her deepest nightmares, was coming to life again. It was very familiar, and it sent her flesh shivering.

"I'm going to bed," she said suddenly, making her way to the bar's back room. "When Sabin gets back, wake me, okay? I have to talk to him."

Sabin awoke slowly to a throbbing pain in his shoulder and back. He was lying on his stomach in the dirt, blood smeared across his face and left leg swollen. His entire body ached with a dull pressure, and a moment later he remembered why: the spiky-headed SOLDIER. He rolled over, pushing into a sitting position and taking a quick survey of the scene.

"You're awake."

It was the woman from before, leaning easily against a pile of scrap. She was watching him as if only vaguely interested. "Where is he?" he asked her quickly, catching sight of the young scientist, who stayed close to her friend's side.

"He's gone," Celes replied. "Ran off. You're lucky he didn't kill you."

"I guess." He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. It was bruised, but not as bad as it could have been. "How long was I out?"

"About an hour. And yes, I did use some cure magic on you. Hope you appreciate it. Anyway," she continued, "your friends came by, but thanks to my spell, they weren't able to see us. I didn't want you running off before we could talk."

Her tone implied that there was something she wanted, and Sabin was instantly wary. "What do you want?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

"My name is Celes," she told him, her voice firm. "General Celes, top agent of SOLDIER. I already know who you are, Sabin Rene Figaro. I recognized your face." She watched him intently. "I want your help in tracking down Cloud."

"What, that spike-head?" He shook his head. "Listen lady, I'm not part of Shin-ra in any way anymore; if you know me, you know that." He recognized her face from the Shin-ra building, as she was constantly popping in and out of the rooms. He hadn't seen her in years. "Whoever this 'Cloud' is, it's not my concern, okay? He's your man; you deal with him." He climbed to his feet.

"What if he goes after Tifa again?"

This caused him to pause, as she thought it might. He stared down at her. "If he goes near Tifa again," the man growled defensively, "I'll kill him myself."

"You don't understand," Lucca interjected abruptly, standing. "Cloud's not just any SOLDIER—he's special, and he needs help. If we don't—"

"So hire someone who cares," Sabin retorted acridly. "Because he's not my problem."

But she was persistent, marching into his path and confronting the man who was over a foot taller than her and carried twice as much bulk. "You really don't get it, do you Blondie?" she barked contemptuously. "That man has spent the last five years in a Shin-ra genetics lab, and I don't mean as a brainiac scientist." Her outburst was so violent that it made her seem like a child in a tantrum, and he held himself from laughing out loud. "He's kept under strict surveillance twenty-four hours a day—hell, he's never been fully conscious for more than a few hours at a time. He's unsteady, moody, egotistical, and packing a damn powerful arsenal that'll make itself your problem."

"I gave him a serum before he ran off," Celes added, joining her friend's side. "It's working to counteract most of the drugs he's been exposed to, and as a result he'll lose parts of his memory. He won't remember ever being in Shin-ra."

Sabin ground his knuckles into his hips, frowning. "That's good, right?"

"No," Celes replied blandly, but there was a trace of compassion well hidden in her tone. "It means he'll fill the holes in himself, or believe whatever he's told. Anyone could chose to take advantage of those five missing years. If some group like Avalanche got their hands on him, they could cause chaos—literally."

His reaction to that was masked as carefully as her sympathy. "Yeah, you're probably right," he agreed, not hesitating to be helpful. "So…what do you want me to do?"

"Help us find him." Celes faced him directly, and for a moment he could see a glare of insecurity and fear in her crystalline eyes. "He'll be easier to handle because of the drug, but we have to find him, and quickly."

"Okay, okay." Sabin pondered the dilemma carefully. Planning and strategy were never his strong suits, but now he needed something to fall back on before the general and her lackey took control of the situation. "I know this sector pretty well, and my friend owns a place where a lot of people go. You want me to tell them to keep an eye out?"

"Tifa, right?" He nodded, and she pursed her lips. "Yes, go talk to them, and take Lucca with you. Tell that girl Tifa to stay away from him or she could end up dead. I've got contacts I can go to." She patted Lucca on the shoulder and started off. "Meet here in one hour, and we'll decide what else to do. Take care of yourselves." Without waiting for a response she ran off into the shadows.

Great. She played me right into the palm of her hand, Sabin thought bitterly. Does she know I'm in Avalanche? If she did, she wouldn't have given me the idea of getting Cloud on our side. We could tell him he'd been in Avalanche since the start, and he'd believe us. We could really use someone like that.

"Come on!" Lucca called sharply, already striding out of the graveyard. "We've got to haul ass, right?"

"I'm coming." He felt a dull apprehension as they went—he didn't trust this girl, and wasn't happy about leading her to his friends. Maybe she knew about Avalanche and was playing dumb… But why would she, if she really was worried about her friend Cloud? And following him into the lion's den would only put her at a disadvantage, not having the general for her magic.

There was no other choice. If he backed out now Lucca would become suspicious, and after battling with the man in question he had an idea that rebels and politics weren't the main ideas on everyone's mind. In any case, he had to warn Tifa. "It's a bar," he said at last, taking the lead. I knew I was going to regret it. "The Seventh Heaven."

He couldn't see anything clearly. The world was spinning out of control; bright lights blinded his eyes, and the garbled voices of sparse crowds flittered without comprehension through the cool night air. His stomach lurched, forcing him to his knees as he vomited like a drunken man. Bile burned in his throat as well as several curses. "Hell…what's wrong with me?"

"Hey." Someone touched his arm, a sensation that almost didn't reach him. "You okay?"

Cloud groaned, climbing unsteadily to his feet. Immediately his head began to throb. "Wha…?"

"You look a little drunk, friend," a man's voice—or, it sounded like a man's voice—rang in his ear. "I know the look, believe me. Need some help?"

"Go away," he hissed, stumbling on. The road swung back and forth in front of him, and several times he paused to keep his balance. The nausea was beginning to return, and he fought against it unsuccessfully.

There was another voice, disembodied as he couldn't make out any shapes, but it was very close to him. The first hummed thoughtfully. "Hey pal," he said after a moment. "Why don't you come with me? I've got a place you can stay, if you want." He slung his arm over Cloud's shoulder, and was rejected forcefully. The action must have startled him, for after that he kept his distance.

"I don't need your help," Cloud muttered, continuing. "Just leave me alone."

"Well, good luck then."

He cursed and almost tripped. The distraction kept him from hearing the two voices' short exchange that followed, a conversation he would have done well to remember.

Cloud wandered for hours it seemed, struggling against the power of the drug all the way. He had no idea where he was or where he was going. Eventually his eyes and ears failed him, forcing him to depend on the sides of buildings to keep him from wandering into a street—until he could no longer feel the pressure of the metal on his fingertips. The last thing he remembered was a smell he didn't recognize at first, something pure and sweet, so unlike the stench of Midgar's machinery and pollution. He followed, lost in a realm where that fragrance was the only thing of existence. He followed it until his legs buckled, the force that had plagued him for so long finally consuming the last vestiges of strength he kept in his weary bones. The scent was all around him, surrounding and penetrating him, until—thankfully—his conscious joined the fate of his senses.

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