A Word From the Author: 27/8/05- Gosh, has it already been four months! Yes it has, and please forgive me for keeping you guys waiting. (laughs nervously) You can blame it on the PS-2 that came my way early this year, causing me to be distracted from story-writing for a while. ANYWAAAY—well, finals are coming up and I doubt I can post this up anytime sooner than November, but I figure I better get a head start, hey?

………………………………………………………………………………………………

ATTENTION!

added 14/3/06: Those here for the update, please go to Chapter Seventeen, a new insert and the beginning of my extensive edition. Thank you.

Chapter Twenty-Two: On War, Mortality, and Endings

(…another dream…)

a familiar scene, he seen it so many times already sometimes she will live and she will come running to him her smile lighting up her face her eyes aglow—

just for him—

and he will wake up knowing that it didn't happen that way and it can't be changed—

This time, it is different.

She is not kneeling, as she had been when she had died. Her hands are folded across her torso, masking her death wound, giving her a sense of tranquility. Her head is hung low, and her loose chestnut hair masks her eyes. He watches, with expectancy. Once again, something holds him back from going to her.

Why do you keep coming to me? He asks. You remind me…of so much…

She moves slightly, ripples of emerald light seeming to radiate from her figure, glinting off the smooth crystal around them. Angel light, the radiance of the Lifestream. I don't want to make you sad, Cloud, she says.

Then why—his voice breaks in anguish and his hands rise towards her as though pleading before dropping back limply to his sides.

It wasn't your fault, she soothes. Something in her voice changes subtly, and he looks up, as she adds, It wasn't his either.

It was…hers…

Behind her flares an image…a silver-haired man, wielding a long sword, a lone black wing arching high over his head—terrible, beautiful, awe-striking. His eyes are empty, but within them moves a devious intelligence. He smiles at Cloud—that familiar, mocking smile!—as he raises his sword and brings it sweeping down.

No! he screams.

The scene goes black. As his dream self fades from the scene, her voice echoes one last time, etching themselves into his memory.

You must learn to forgive him, Cloud…

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

(Fisherman's Horizon)

Arne staggered down the rampway of the Ragnarok, his face vaguely green. He glanced with evil intent at the deceptively cute-looking woman who sat in the cockpit above him, as Keire hopped down after him. "Are you airsick, captain?" he asked, smirking.

"Shut up," Arne retorted, making a threatening gesture that Keire easily dodged. Instead, Arne nearly overbalanced and would have crashed face first into the ground if Mel hadn't darted forward and caught him by the arm. Arne glanced skyward to see a cheeky smile etched with unmistakable clarity on Selphie's pixie face before she bent down to fiddle with the controls.

Keire snickered. "No wonder you failed flying, Captain. Practically no turbulence at all, and you were airsick." He laughed louder, prompting an annoyed glance form Arne and an incredulous, "No turbulence!"

"For Selph, anyway," Keire amended. "So what now, boss?"

Arne regained his balance and began walking with more confident steps towards the staircase leading out of the satellite dish. "To see Monkey," he called over his shoulder. "He's got the keys."

"He's the agent?" Mel asked, arching an eyebrow as she fell into step beside him. As usual, he started a bit as he caught her at the edge of his eyes, her ponytail now gone and sacrificed and the rest of her hair, now jet black, swept up in a crown of slicked-up spikes sharp enough to impale a G-Soldier if he got too close. (Maybe that was the intent, Arne mused.) A few drops of eye coloring, skin dye and a change of expression and a stranger's face stared back at him. She seemed somehow darker and more aggressive, and Arne was a little troubled by how easily it became her. Perhaps because he didn't know whether it was true or feigned.

Glancing into the blue eyes, now specked with gold flecks, courtesy of the coloring, he replied, "He's a bit bizarre, but he did do Dad a favor once or twice after Dad chased off a G-major that had been irritating Monkey. He's okay, Just takes a bit of getting used to."

Mel shrugged. "If that's what you say."

They left the glittering dish behind them and a guard waved them over the newly restored railway tracks leading to the station, now running as efficiently as before—a project funded by Laguna, Arne recalled wistfully. Now gone, sleeping the sleep of the just, along with his father.

Arne rubbed his neck hard, suddenly feeling ill. Were he to die, the Leonheart line would be forever ended. His hand stole to the silver chain around his neck; a parting gift Rinoa had given him at the funeral. Griever. His father's pendant, the word 'Leonheart' etched into the back. His questing fingers traced over the frozen, snarling features of the lion, as he recalled his family's history. Raine, dead after a monster had mauled her, her baby still miraculously alive, her only legacy the pendant around her neck. The boy, taken into the orphanage. Not knowing who he was, or where he came from, he took the surname Leonheart, from the one precious thing that tied him to his past, when he began to forget…The second Sorceress War. Emerging in triumph and joy. Everyone was happy…so happy…

Arne had been born in that time pf peace, an all-too-short period of glowing, golden years that would contrast all too painfully with the coming darkness. And, contemplating all this, Arne felt terribly saddened, not only for himself and his family, but for everyone else, that had been touched, scarred by the war, in one way or another. War was the robber of Death. War was bloated corpses, closing a loved one's eyes, crying for revenge, and stolen dignity. Arne hated it.

He walked rigidly, detachedly marveling at the sudden transition from levity to bitterness. War did that to you.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

(It is a bar. Clinking noises, voices muted and loud, soft music filtering through hidden speakers, wind whistling through a crack in the window. The weathered sign outside the door reads, 'A Step From Heaven'.)

Bill should really get that window fixed, he thought dully, sinking down to gaze blankly at the chipped glass in front of him. He had been nursing his drink for nearly an hour now and had barely taken a sip from it. Now it sat tepid in his hands. The man sat up and shoved it away in disgust. It was more an excuse to get in here without being thrown out…he hadn't touched alcohol, since he had discovered that even dead drunk the pain wouldn't go away. No, he was here, because it was the last place she would come to go looking for him—

The door opened. With a loud BANG, causing most of the patrons, excluding the seriously sloshed ones lying half-huddled beneath the tables in a puddle of their own vomit, to look up. He didn't, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the battered surface of the table as sharp footfalls came towards him unerringly. She had eyes like needles, he had always told her, effortlessly picking him out from the dim atmosphere almost immediately.

"Hey, baby! You're lookin' hot, lady," some idiot slurred drunkenly from behind him. She ignored the drunkard, as per usual, but this time there was a sharp yelp that indicated that the fool had tried to cop a feel. He smiled to himself, though there was a tinge of sadness to it. She'd found him. Now he would have to find another hiding place next time round.

She stood next to him. He could sense her near proximity, and she smelt, as always, of warm chestnuts and spicy sweat. But he didn't look at her, or do anything to acknowledge her presence; so she spoke first, with a hint of irritation and, too, worry that she could not hide. "I've found you."

"Uh-huh," he agreed amiably, twiddling his thumbs."

"That's poisonous stuff." He knew that she was referring to the alcohol.

"I know. I'm clean," he replied softly.

There was a long silence. A silence in which the scarred wood in front of him became specked with dark spots. She was crying, and she hated that, hated the man sitting near her as much as she loved him.

"You're crying," he observed inanely. He still refused to look at her, even as she said, "Look, we have to talk."

"So talk." And he finally raised his head, his blue eyes catching the dim lights and sparkling with their own inner light, startlingly bright in the dark.

"Not here. Let's go outside, please."

"Suit yourself," he answered, as polite as ever, as he stood and tossed a few gil onto the table before following her outside into the cool, dew-scented evening. She turned away from him a few moments to regain her composure, before she said flatly, "Was it that dream again?"

"…Yes. No," he said slowly, considering. She looked at him, expectant. "She was there. But it was different," he added, but didn't elaborate further.

She hugged herself; it was a cold evening. He watched her, expressionless. "Damn you," she said finally. "Why do you have to keep everything to yourself? You have friends who care about you, you selfish bastard, and if only you would just open yourself up to us—!"

She regained control. "We care about you, Cloud." Her tone was pleading.

"The others," his voice, carefully toneless, "don't care like you do." He took a few steps nearer, and caught hold of her chin. His eyes, with their faint glow, were unnerving so close. She tried to pull away, uncomfortably aware of the truth of his words, but froze as he spoke again, his words accompanied by warm puffs of air on her skin. "You're just…jealous. Because I love a dead girl. Well, that's my problem."

"Cloud!" She was suddenly furious. "How dare you say that!" True, she had been slightly envious of Aeris, but not to the extent of being of a green-eyed monster. Aeris was a good girl, pure and innocent, and she deserved all the happiness she could get. Tifa had never resented her so much as to spoil their friendship. Likewise, she was mildly irritated with Cloud's feelings for Aeris, long after she had been laid to rest, but she had confronted her unrequited feelings for him long ago and come to terms with them. How dare Cloud suggest that she might be jealous of a dead girl's memory! Tifa seethed. She'd show him.

"Cloud Strife, you listen to me." He had released her, and now she jabbed a hard finger into his chest, knocking him backwards with the force of her finger as well as her words. "You're such a damned egoistic bastard, you know that? I respect your feelings for Aeris. I don't mock you, I don't do anything that warrants this kind of behavior from you!" She was screaming in his face now, and he was looking startled, with just the slightest hints of anger glittering at the edges of his eyes. "I even agreed to come with you and everyone else to the Forgotten City because of that dream you had—because Aeris asked us to come—because she was a good friend." Her voice softened. "And you're a good friend too. Not just—not just because of whatever I feel for you. We've gone through so much together, let's not have this spoil our friendship."

He was silent for a moment, the anger dissipating at her last statement. He sighed. "I'm sorry," he mumbled grudgingly, as he ran a hand distractedly through his spiky hair. Tifa was content with that apology; even dragging that one out of Cloud these days needed a supreme will and divine intervention. "Want to go back to the inn?" she asked gently. "We're all very worried about you."

For a second she thought he would refuse. Then he nodded slightly, and her heart soared. She patted his shoulder lightly, and he smiled a little at her. "You know, I've figured something out," he said, as they walked back together. "There are no happy endings."

She glanced questioningly at him. "Did you think there were?"

"Yes," he said fervently. "I used to believe that. It gave me the strength to face off Sephiroth in the end. I thought, once he was dead, everything would be just peachy. But it wasn't. We were left with the shambles of a dying world, and it was a long hard road to recovery. There were loads of people, just dying, everywhere we went to help. And Aeris was dead, and we had failed to protect her." The corner of his mouth curled in a brief, ironic smile. "Everybody wanted to interview us. But they only asked us questions about before, not after. Nobody wanted to face the reality that, once the story ends, it doesn't really, Life goes on…and life is pain and hardship, in the present."

"Cloud…" Tifa gazed at him, resting a soothing hand over his.

"Have you ever read Cinderella? Snow White? All those funny little fairytales we read to the orphans so they would fall asleep?" he asked. "They all end with, 'happily ever after.' Because the authors of those stories, they knew when to end. Because, if the story goes on too long, it always ends in death."

"Makes you wonder, if the effort was all for nothing," he finished, softly.

"Of course it was," Tifa said at once. "See all the people we saved!" she gestured, around them, at Costa Del Sol, still lively and bustling despite the late hour. "If it wasn't for you—for us—they'd all be dead, and so would be an entire planet." She turned a determined gaze on Cloud. "You did a meaningful thing, Cloud, and don't you forget it. Millions of people have you to thank for their lives."

"Do they, really, hmm?" Cloud murmured quietly. He shook his head. "Never mind. Just thinking. Thank you, Tifa." He smiled quickly, and Tifa could read in that short flash that, though, she had not managed to ease his burden, he was grateful to her for her effort.

She just hoped that whatever awaited them in the Forgotten City would somehow restore Cloud to his old self again. Ifrit, but she missed that Cloud so badly.

"I hope you heard that, Planet," she mumbled absently.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

Author's Ending Note: 23/9/05: Yeah, yeah, pretty short, I know, but I'm suffering from a VERY serious bout of writer's block, so this chapter is just to fill in a plot hole or two and introduce the FF7 characters to the scene. Nil plot development, I know, and I have just discovered a humongous plot hole in my last chapter which has gotten me a bit down, so I am now compensating for it in an extremely clumsy fashion that will no doubt blow off many off my readers. Ah well, I can't change that plot hole without some extensive rewriting, so I hope you'll find it in your hearts to forgive me when you lay eyes on said hole next chapter in November. I'm terribly sorry for the five month delay. :( Please review to make my day and encourage me to post as soon as my finals are over. smiles.

Oh yes. Credit must be awarded where it is due. The theme on 'no happy endings' is inspired by li-tzu's Legacy Of A Madman, and the last part of Cloud's angsty speech owes its existence to Mr. Gaiman's The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes. Thanks, both of you, in the unlikely event that either of you read this, for such wonderful pieces of writing.

P.S. Looking forward to Dirge, now that AC is out!

Finally, thanks to all reviewers:

meowwl: Wasn't kidding about this delay either, Can't believe AC came out before my new chapter did…I've watched it. Fight scenes were just bloody amazing, though some of the plot stuff just came out of left field.

Noacat: Heh heh, sorry you had to wait five months for me to finally get my lazy fingers to the keyboard. I had some time today, and I became determined to at least finish this chapter, albeit a rather short one compared to the new standards I've set myself.

Anasazi Darkmoon: Pains me too, especially since I must now write a follow-up, which I haven't yet mustered up enough confidence to do so. I still can't decide what will happen, so I'll let the characters make the decision, as usual. They pretty much do so most of the time anyway.

emerald drake: Grins sheepishly. Not! Wish I could have caught the first screening, but I doubt the parents would have let me gallivant off to Japan just to drool over Seph. Had to settle for watching it two days later.

Kenshkrix: Um. I hope you do point them out, because it's kinda hard for me to improve something if you don't say what twigs you. That's what reviewers are for, after all. Anyway, I shall try my utmost to, as you say, 'throw some twists' into the plot for your reading pleasure. No sarcasm intended.

TheWyldeWestWynd: coughs. And still no Seph. I hope I have earned your forgiveness by finally dragging Angst!Cloud out for you guys.

V-Act: blinks. Whoa, long review there. Well, yeah, you've pretty much guessed at it, though I guess it was pretty predictable in that aspect. nods to Kenshkrix. I mean, it isn't as if Cloud is going to welcome Seph with open arms after he pretty much tried to destroy the world and then there was the whole burning-down-of-Cloud's-hometown deal.

mikomi bansiki: Not spoiling things for you, am I? Should play it. Great game, that. Can tell that from all the spinoff business going on at Square.

tetraflash777: This update definitely deserves a mile-length of exclamation marks, considering how long I've been missing from the scene. As it turns out, somebody did erase me from their favs, not that I blame he/her. I haven't been very consistent this year.

Dark Knight Gafgar: Unfortunately, I have absolutely zilch experience with guns. Hence, the general naming of 'gun' throughout the entire chapter. My knowledge of guns only goes as far as to inform me that rifles and pistols are also included in that category. Heh, sounds pathetic, doesn't it.

Andrew: Thanks! It's people like you who really boost my ego and make me tell myself that I'm a great writer (though that isn't true, of course.) Continue feeding my ego, please. It's a great feeling.

NEXT CHAPTER, COMING YOUR WAY IN NOVEMBER:

Belly of the Beast.

………………………………………………………………………………………………