This chapter was posted as part 6/9 of my 'Cloud's Birthday Week 2k14' challenge over on tumblr. :)

When class ended Cloud led Squall down the hall and away from the prying eyes and eavesdropping ears of their classmates. Somehow everyone in class had figured out that the two of them were meeting up to 'talk' after class ended and like a bunch of drama-starved vultures they were trying to get up in their business.

They entered an empty classroom that looked like no one had been in it since the spring semester ended; Cloud cracked open a few windows for something to do as Squall settled on the teacher's desk, backpack slung over one shoulder. Cloud got the message: make this quick, I have things to do, and I'm entertaining you only out of politeness.

Sighing, Cloud moved closer to Squall and crossed his arms, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Look," he began, frowning at the door to the classroom as a fellow student of theirs walked by, peering in the glass 'inconspicuously' at them before moving on, "I don't want to bug you. I wouldn't be bothering you like this if I didn't really need your help with something."

"With what?"

Cloud gripped the straps of his own backpack and nervously pulled at the nylon straps that adjusted the tightness. It was hard to frame exactly why he needed Squall's help without sounding like a crazy person.

"It's my thesis," the blond said finally. "I'm stuck on something and it's really important." He finally made eye contact with Squall to convey the gravity of what he was saying—even Squall had rarely seen him so serious. The brunet sat a little straighter.

"I need more information on the Turks…among other things. I know you're not an expert on them in particular but I figured you could help me at least a little."

Squall did not answer and Cloud swallowed his pride. "Squall," he pleaded, "Please understand—I wouldn't ask this of you if you weren't my last option."

The brunet closed his eyes and his expression contorted like Cloud was annoying him to no end. He eventually muttered, "I guess I can help you a little." Louder, he asked, "What do you need me to do?"

"I—ah, don't know." Cloud had not thought about what Squall would need to do for him specifically, choosing instead to ask the man before he lost his nerve. The look his ex sent him made him feel awfully stupid. "It's—would you be able to meet at the library this weekend?"

"I guess. Saturday morning?"

"Ah, I can't do that." He had a lunch date with Seifer, actually, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Squall that. "What about Sunday morning instead?"

"…Fine."

"Okay." They both stood in awkward silence for a moment. "Well…thanks again. I'm going to need anything on the Turks you can get—and Barnaby Hojo too, if you've got it. I'll tell you more about it when we meet on Sunday. Thanks, man." Squall just nodded his head so Cloud turned and started walking out of the room. The brunet stopped him.

"I don't want you to think that anything will change between us," Squall drawled , faking his usual cool. He was visibly uncomfortable. "I'm just helping you as a colleague."

Asshole, Cloud thought. He fixed Squall with a glare. Just before they broke up Cloud had been largely unwilling to hurt Squall's feelings and so was something of a doormat until he finally snapped; no longer. He would not let Squall bully him.

"Of course not," he replied coolly. "Thanks again."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, the building, and off campus. It was not until he arrived home that he faced the truth—he was doing exactly what he promised himself he would never do: interact again with that jerk.

It was for his own sanity, really; doing anything more than ignoring or staring listlessly at Squall in class brought back too many memories, both good and bad. Squall, frustrated with him today, acting like he was not as angry or affected as he actually was—there had been plenty of that in their last few days and that was unsettlingly familiar, made Cloud ache with a swimmy sort of déjà vu.

Late that night a tight knot of stress simmered low in his stomach. Anger boiled softly somewhere beneath it. This was not how it was supposed to happen—damn it, his thesis was not supposed to involve Squall (or ghosts for that matter!) in any way at all. Sephiroth did not realize what Cloud was sacrificing for him, for their plan.

Still—for Sephiroth, at least, even if no one else, Cloud was prepared to do it, or at least give his best shot.

The next morning, Saturday, Cloud let himself sleep in for the first time in a long while. Ever since discovering Sephiroth out in that battlefield he was extraordinarily busy, balancing his normal life with studying, class work, and now almost daily road trips out to Nibelheim which ate up his hours and left him exhausted and on the verge of nodding off behind his steering wheel. It was a good kind of busy but, he supposed, it was good to take some time for yourself.

So, he slept in. He stayed in the shower for ages once he could lounge around in bed no longer and emerged with his skin tingly and pink, the skin of his fingertips raisined. He took the time to choose his outfit with care and relaxed on his couch after as his hair air-dried. It took some conscious effort but he did not let himself think about the Civil War, Turks, Hojo, or even Sephiroth. Then, to add to the morning of doing things selfishly for himself, he went on a date.

This time it was undoubtedly a date with Seifer; they met casually a couple of times with good results and now they were meeting for lunch at a place a little nicer than the few small cafes they visited together.

Cloud had not been on a real date, not pampered himself since he broke up with Squall. He felt he deserved it.

An hour and a half later he sat down at an intimate table at a small restaurant serving classic Icicle cuisine and smiled at Seifer who was already there and squinting his eyes at the menu like it was purposefully being difficult. They greeted each other a tad shyly and Cloud noticed that Seifer's hair was slicked back again except for a few stubborn strands near his forehead. It made him look a bit goofy, like a seventh-grader at his first dance.

"You look nice," Cloud murmured with a mischievous smile, and he stood back up out of the chair he just sat down in, leaned over the table, and mussed up Seifer's hair with one of his hands. Satisfied he sat down and wiped his hand free of product on his napkin while the other blond looked owlishly back at him.

"Thanks," he said after a beat, apparently confused.

Seifer did not ask anything about Squall thankfully. Instead they talked more about school, since it was what they had in common. Seifer was working on his Second Class degree, not First Class like Cloud, having taken a few years off from school like a sane person to work full-time. It was hard for Cloud to wrap his mind around things like space, meteorites and black holes—managing the ghost thing was putting enough strain on his poor brain.

"So a few of us are keeping track of this meteor shower that happened near Junon about seventy years ago," Seifer was saying, "but that's just the busy work Quistis is giving us, really. Have you ever heard of stop materia?"

Cloud shook his head, amused.

Seifer waxed on about supposed magic from years gone by that somehow connected to a really complicated fringe theory about physics and time-space. Eventually they moved on and between gushing about how good the unpronounceable food was they gossiped about celebrities they did not care about and their classmates (with one notable brown-haired exception).

Cloud noticed, after Seifer realized that there were intestines in the meal he'd ordered and had something of a minor freak-out before forcing himself to take a trembling, wincing bite to save face, that he and the other blond were extremely comfortable around each other; maybe even a little too much so. With most of his past boyfriends, his two girlfriends earlier on in life, and certainly Squall, he never felt such strong vibes of friendship. Of course it was necessary to be friends with anyone you dated long-term; there had to be a hell of a lot more than sexual attraction, after all. Hanging with Seifer felt a lot like hanging with a male Tifa or something though…and Cloud had no idea what that meant or if it was good or not.

When they finished eating Cloud paid the check and they moved outside. They ambled together to Cloud's car, still enjoying each other's presence, and talked while leaning against it for a few more minutes, the hot sun making their faces flushed and their upper lips bead with sweat.

Cloud had prepared for this, of course—he was showered and clean and prepared for however their afternoon went. He was due to meet Sephiroth that evening but the rest of his day was free; he'd bought condoms and a discreet bottle of lube for whoever now sat in his nightstand in the off chance that things went that way.

He let the warm sun and the feeling of the whole day, the feelings of freedom and self-indulgence, make him loose and affectionate as he crowded close to Seifer. He kept their conversation going but through a series of light touches to the man's sides and gentle herding he pushed Seifer back against the car, almost uncomfortably warm in the sun, and pressed their hips together firmly enough to cage him there but not enough to be lewd—they were in a public space, after all.

Their conversation gave way to soft murmurs and smiles as Cloud leant in. The fingers of one of Seifer's hands slid up from the nape of Cloud's neck into the soft hair above it and Cloud gave a low hum of appreciation. Their lips were almost touching, with soft, amused puffs of breath in the small space between them.

Cloud finally took the initiative and made those last few millimeters disappear. Their lips met, gentle and soft, tentative—but only for a moment.

They both drew back. They both frowned.

Seifer's eyebrows drew together, the hand in Cloud's hair twisted a bit tighter and he pulled Cloud up so they could kiss again.

Ten seconds was about all they managed before Cloud had to take a step back, out of Seifer's space. The blonds shared identical looks of utter confusion.

"What the hell?" Seifer asked.

Cloud rubbed his lips harshly with his knuckle as if trying to see if there was something wrong with them. There wasn't, but that did not explain why his kisses with Seifer were so… boring was not the word, and neither was dull, but they were close. Kissing Seifer was like kissing the back of his palm, or Aerith that one time when they were tipsy at a Yule party.

Their sexual chemistry was zero.

Seifer started laughing, partly out of amusement and partly out of embarrassment and Cloud could not help but join in. "My God," the other blond said, a palm smooshed across his cheek and mouth, mortified.

"I'll be honest. I didn't think that was going to happen."

"Me neither." Seifer crossed his arms and squinted at him. "You're hot. Why did that suck so much?"

Cloud shrugged. They looked helplessly at each other and then laughed some more, sliding out of awkwardness and back into the comfortable thing they had back during lunch. Cloud confessed, "During lunch I was actually thinking about how friendly we are—like significantly more so than anyone else I've dated."

Seifer considered that, swishing his mouth. Finally he asked, "So I guess we're just…bros?"

Laughing, Cloud gave an affirmative. "Bummer," Seifer said. He did not look disappointed for long though. "Hey, at least we gave it a shot."

"Right."

After that things were easy again. They talked a few minutes more but became increasingly aware of the hot sun and that their shirts becoming stained with sweat and bade each other farewell before anyone passed out from the heat. It was a little disappointing, yeah, but strangely Cloud, like Seifer, was not upset. He still had a kickass new friend out of the whole ordeal—they were planning to hang out again soon with absolutely no romantic or physical overtones whatsoever. In retrospect they should have seen this coming; he got far more friend vibes than boyfriend ones from Seifer anyway.

As amusing as the whole situation was, and as cool with it as he was at the moment, by that evening he was pissed off. Seifer was supposed to be his first step at finally getting over Squall, at moving on and forming a healthy relationship with someone else. That was clearly not going to happen.

Frustrated at himself and the world in general he drove to Nibelheim with little of the excitement he usually did. He had not gone the evening before as Rufus had some source-related assignments due that he foolishly pushed off. Sephiroth needed updates but for the first time Cloud did not feel like facing the ghost today.

"Are you alright?" Sephiroth asked as soon as Cloud crossed that invisible barrier that the ghost couldn't cross, waiting for him as soon as the car shifted into park back on the road.

"Fine," Cloud grunted, the heavy plastic beach chair bumping against his ankles as he lugged it across the grass. He set up all his stuff in the middle of the field and sank into it, moodily fishing his lantern out of his backpack. When he looked up Sephiroth stood before him with his arms crossed, looking at the blond with a critical expression.

Cloud instantly flushed with shame. "Sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the right, "I just had a weird day. I'm kind of in a bad mood."

"What happened?"

Sephiroth sat on the ground, ignoring all of his materials, and the look he fixed him with was laser-focused, intense, like what was bothering Cloud was far more important than solving any mystery. The blond felt doubly ashamed of his attitude and humbled in a way he couldn't explain.

"Do you remember that date I told you about the other day? With this guy named Seifer?" Sephiroth nodded. "Well, that was today. It was fun but we realized pretty definitively that we can't be anything other than friends." Cloud shrugged one shoulder. "I mean, we're fine and all—but I was kinda disappointed, I guess."

Sephiroth did not act like Cloud's worries were insignificant. He nodded sincerely, his eerie, slitted, translucent pupils still honed in on Cloud's face. The blond shifted, a bit uncomfortable and unsettled from the gaze. "Sorry," he said again, to fill the silence between them. "I'm not usually so dramatic."

"Don't worry," Sephiroth told him easily. His hands curled around the ankle area of his boots as he leant in a bit, maybe subconsciously. "I used to get angry very easily. In fact, I think I was almost always irritated about something. Genesis was even worse." A strange expression crossed his face. "As time went on everyone got worse—Angeal and Zack too." He frowned and blinked a few times as if working through a murky memory. "…Anyway—I've spent enough time here to get over a lot of it. In fact, it is hard to conjure…especially as I've forgotten most of the reasons why I was incensed in the first place."

Cloud nodded along. It made sense.

"But you're mortal. Be as angry as you want."

The blond chuckled quietly. "Okay," he said bashfully. He appreciated the attempt to cheer him up, even if it was slightly awkward.

"So you and—Seifer?—are merely 'friends' now?"

"Yup. We kissed and it was like, I don't know—kissing your mom. Totally platonic and weird."

"I find it hard to remember what kissing felt like." Sephiroth tapped his own lips. The bottom one flattened and spread under the gentle pressure of his fingers and Cloud stared—the ghost was able to touch himself, it seemed, but only anything else after considerable effort and expended energy on his part.

"It's too bad you're a ghost—I can't show you," Cloud replied absently. He stiffened as soon as he said it, his words lingering in the air. He looked up; Sephiroth was looking at him curiously, his eyes, as always, too much for Cloud to meet head-on for very long. The moment dragged on, awkward for Cloud, and eventually he coughed and moved on, thankful the night was dark and that the redness of his cheeks could not be seen. "So, I talked to the guy who will help us with the Turks. We're meeting up tomorrow."

"I see."

"It's—" Cloud floundered for something to say, noticing Sephiroth was still staring weirdly, "It's not good actually."

"What isn't?"

Rubbing his forehead with his knuckles, Cloud responded, "…Our help. It's my ex."

Sephiroth said nothing, but the strange, electric, slightly amused air from earlier disappeared. "Yeah," Cloud said with a sigh. "Also part of the reason I was so mad today. He's a Civil War historian too. Out of all the people I know he's the most likely to help us get answers but…" He wrung his hands. "I just really wish it didn't have to be him."

"You don't have to consult him, Cloud."

The blond looked up, surprised. Sephiroth looked honest; he was, what, willing to delay solving the mystery for Cloud's comfort?

"No. Don't worry. It's fine."

The ghost regarded him evenly. "We can try something else if we must."

"It's really okay. I want us to solve this, Sephiroth. It—I can be professional about this. My issues with Squall won't get in the way."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

Cloud fell silent. Sephiroth continuously threw him off-kilter. They thankfully soon switched to a more comfortable topic, that of research, and Cloud read Sephiroth another chapter of his biography. Sephiroth lay down on his back with his arms pillowing his head, staring blankly at the void of stars above as Cloud did so. He was quiet today, commenting only when something was misquoted or inaccurate, but the disdainful way he did each time made Cloud smile.

Three-fourths of the way through something occurred to Cloud. He lowered the book and moved the flashlight away it, drawing with it a few pesky gnats. "Sephiroth," he said, looking down at the reclining man, "We've been talking for almost two hours."

Sephiroth merely raised an eyebrow at him.

"I mean," Cloud fumbled, "The first few times we met you lasted less than five minutes."

Sephiroth did not turn his head to look at him; he gazed at the sky as he replied candidly, "Being with you gives me energy. Every time you leave I feel stronger. I'm gaining more than just my memories."

Cloud sat still, a little numb. "Oh," he said. For some reason he could not tear his eyes away—Sephiroth lying there in his neatly pressed military suit, shimmering and glowing silvery-white in the darkness, not tangible but present all the same.

Those eyes finally met his and they stared at each other for a long moment. Then Sephiroth smiled.

The blond gave a shy one back and crept the book back up to block his view. "Alright," he said, clearing his throat, "From November to December that year…"

Going into this Cloud knew it was a bad idea, but now with Squall sitting beside him at a table at Midgar Library and making a horrific bitchface at yet another thing the blond said he knew it was a Bad Idea.

If only he could go back 16 hours and accept Sephiroth's words about not using Squall for help and finding some other way instead! Saying he would muscle through for the ghost's sake and actually doing the muscling through were apparently two very different things. Firstly Squall was unhappy to see him, looking grumpy and tired. The library was chosen because it was a nice, neutral place but Cloud had a feeling he was not the only one suddenly plagued with memories of them doing their Second Class theses here a couple years back, reading books together on the couches and kissing in a back research corner no one ever visited. It made Cloud itchy and irritated.

Secondly Cloud was doing a poor job of explaining the Turk situation. Unfortunately Squall was unwilling to be his research slave and do his bidding without sufficient background info, the nosy piece of shit (though honestly he would do the same if he was in that position). When Squall asked why Cloud wanted to know about the Turks Cloud said something vague along the lines of they seem interesting, now please shut up and read, and when Squall was displeased with that answer and asked again a few minutes later Cloud avoided it by talking about his thesis instead, about how he was investigating the deaths of Sephiroth, Angeal, Zack and Genesis. Squall saw through it and then asked what Turks had to do with any of that and Cloud ground out, "They're important, okay? I just have…a feeling."

"A feeling," Squall said flatly.

"…Yeah."

Much to the brunet's irritation Cloud was unwilling to provide more information (and Cloud was a sweaty mess as he freaked out internally about the possibility of being asked more questions). They mucked through various books, some from places Cloud had not thought to look himself. Squall even cracked open a few old articles saved to his computer that he read to himself, speaking only if he found anything good, just to be an asshole.

It was slow going, tedious work, and at the end of three hours—all they could stand—there was little to show for it. They did learn a few small things, however. A few letters written by President Shin-Ra mentioned them: "my secret services, the Turks"; "Rod, the Turk, visited me yesterday with his partner Shuriken"; and there were a few more afterthoughts, of meetings, public or private, with Turks.

"So I'll see you in class tomorrow?" Cloud asked quietly as they packed up in previously tense silence.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Wordlessly they left the library together and split up outside it—Squall, to his car and Cloud, to the subway.

Their meeting left him pissed off again and a mess of emotions, mostly negative. Still their progress, although small, fueled a small fire of determination in his belly. Now there were even more questions and a few names (Rod, Shuriken? Probably pseudonyms) and he could not wait to delve deeper into it.

…Just, not with Squall. This was proving even more stressful than he anticipated.

That night he did not see Sephiroth, working on more homework for Rufus. That first day he failed to visit he was a wreck, convinced Sephiroth would think he was abandoning him. Several times the ghost reassured him that his homework was important, however, and that an additional night on his own would hardly kill him. Increasingly Cloud found himself missing the ghost's company when he was not with him and he didn't like it at all, but the man was right—it made no sense to flunk out of the class he was putting in all this work for.

He made spaghetti for dinner and ate it cross-legged on his living room floor surrounded by his work and the seven-page paper that had to be twelve before he went to bed. He was nearing the bottom of page ten, empty dishes lying nearby, when he received a phone call.

The number was instantly recognizable despite Cloud long ago deleting the corresponding contact information. "Hello?" he answered after a thick swallow.

"Cloud," came Squall's usual drawl (and did he still have Cloud's number in his phone or had he also been unable to un-memorize it?). "There's a Turk museum."

The man certainly spared no pleasantries and got right to the point. "Seriously?"

"It's more like a small garage-type thing run by a descendant of somebody, nothing fantastic. It's a few hours away."

"Let's go!"

"What? No, I was just telling—"

"Squall," Cloud interrupted firmly, "You know more about them than I do. I need your help. I'll drive you after class. Please."

"…Okay…" The man finally agreed, sounding helpless.

"Alright. Good. Thank you."

"…Yeah." Squall sighed gustily, dramatically, but Cloud did not let himself be swayed or off-put. He no longer gave a shit if Squall was unhappy or uncomfortable. Solving this mystery was too damn important.

The next day Squall was still very clearly reluctant, sulked the whole way through class and refused to meet his eye. It was annoying. To make matters worse Reno and Yuffie kept bugging him about their class last Friday and how Cloud and his ex had that private discussion. Rufus also seemed to correctly gather, after just a quick glance at Cloud's paper, that it was written the night before. Class stretched on for ages, hot, stuffy and boring, and when it ended Cloud was in a terrible mood.

He shook off his friends and walked outside, attempting to catch up to Squall who slipped out as soon as class ended and was faster than Cloud remembered him being. Probably did not want to be seen walking across campus with him. Asshole.

He let out a grunt when he finally reached his car and spared barely a glance for the man leaning against the passenger side door. He climbed in, so did Squall, and began pulling out of the space. To his horror Reno and Yuffie were talking by Reno's car nearby—he made guilty eye contact with them through the windshield. Their jaws comically dropped and their heads followed him and Squall as he passed by, cringing and sinking down low to his steering wheel. Yikes.

As they pulled on to the main road his thigh began to vibrate, the two of them calling him, no doubt.

They were silent the entire forty-five minutes it took to get them out of the city in thick traffic. Squall had with him a printed sheet of directions, perhaps to avoid verbally telling Cloud which way to go. The brunet seemed content to fiddle with his phone and ignore him.

Once highways replaced the thick cluster of buildings and shops around them it was harder to be distracted by something other than his passenger so Cloud turned on the radio. Unthinkingly he turned it to Squall's favorite station, only realizing his mistake when the man glanced away from his device for a moment too long.

Their silence, uncomfortable on Cloud's part, dragged on. After merging onto another highway that they had to follow for the next hour and a half Cloud lasted a little longer but eventually gave up. "So," he sighed, paying very close attention to the road and not looking at his ex in the slightest, "What's up with you?"

"Not much."

"Anything cool or exciting happen in your life lately?"

"Not really."

"…Alright."

Squall realized how frustrated his shitty answers were making Cloud and finally gave him something to work with. "I'm actually working at a new branch now in Sector 2. I co-manage it with Zell."

"Oh really? That's awesome." Cloud liked the men's fashion store Squall worked at in town to cover tuition costs but had not gone since the break-up. "How's he doing?"

"Good. His girlfriend is pregnant, actually… we found out two weeks ago."

"That's fantastic. Good for them."

"Yeah."

On a slightly happier note the ride continued, both of them falling back to introspective quietness. The landscape outside transitioned to something like the outside edge of suburbs, peaceful but not nearly rural like Nibelheim.

"How's your thesis going?" He asked during a commercial break between songs.

"Fine, I guess. Better than Firion's, anyway."

Cloud made a noise of sympathy for his friend who nearly had a breakdown the previous weekend. "What's your topic?"

"Gunblades, actually—I got a look at one in Weaponsmaster last year. A special subunit of SOLDIER, SeeD, used them. Apparently a few Turks had interesting weapons, which is why I'm looking at them."

"Oh. Cool."

It took an additional hour but soon they arrived in a small town named Kalm. It was residential and didn't look like much, let alone the home of any so-called Turk museum. Squall said he was starving so they located a local pizza shop and sat across from each other as they ate, attempting conversation and royally failing. Vivid memories resurfaced of them seated at various similar pizzerias over the years, their legs hooked together under the table, making ridiculous eyes at each other and giggling at everything the other person said. Squall seemed to be just as affected as he, averting his eyes as he ate.

The elephant in the room had to be acknowledged at some point. That was not now, however.

The food took longer than expected to finish due to the owner coming over and good-naturedly asking what they were doing in town since he didn't recognize them (and Cloud was used to that kind of small-town behavior; it was the same way in Nibelheim). It took a while to exhaust talk of classes and research topics (Squall getting squinty-eyed and suspicious when Cloud talked about his own).

Eventually they managed to get on with their afternoon and took to the car again, this time driving a few blocks and parking outside of what was the 'museum.' Due to Squall's description Cloud was expecting something like a crappy garage converted into a freaky shrine to some great-great grandparent but the building was similar to other small businesses on the main street they were on; tiny, yes, but well-kept, with an apartment above the building where the owner probably lived. To the left was a pottery shop that sold Kalm 'souvenirs' and to the right was a laundromat.

The museum itself was understated with nothing but a small plaque near the door that said Unofficial Museum of the Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department of Shin-Ra. What a mouthful.

A bell over the door jingled as they entered the small space. It was one floor and had the general layout of the other small businesses in the area, only instead of there being a kitchen or counter for ringing up purchases the floor was open to make room for clumsy handmade displays and small locked glass cases with artifacts inside. This was nothing compared even to the museum at the HSF but it was all designed with care; it spoke of someone both with an honest interest and way too much time on their hands.

A man came hurrying down from upstairs where the apartment was. He wore a cowboy hat and had his long brown hair in a ponytail and seemed overjoyed to see them.

"Howdy!" he greeted loudly, adjusting his shin-length brown coat as he came over to shake their hands. Squall looked instantly uncomfortable but shook it nonetheless, then retreated a few feet to quietly scowl at the man. "What brings y'all to my humble little exhibit?"

Cloud was a little overwhelmed himself. "Hey. We're both history students and working on our First Class Theses. I wanted to learn a little more about the Turks." He gestured around. "This seems like a great place."

"How'd you find out about it?" Irvine asked aggressively, eyes narrowing. Cloud frowned, alarmed, and looked at Squall.

The brunet shrugged. "I asked some of my old colleagues who have looked into the Turks before. Selphie Tilmitt?"

"Oh." A big, goofy smile spread on Irvine's face. "Selphie, right—how is she? She's so cute."

"…Fine?"

Cloud looked bewildered and Irvine glanced at the door before filling him in: "I try not to broadcast the fact I've got a Turk museum. There's people in the government who would shut me down. Not everyone wants their secrets to get out, y'know? So I use word-of-mouth."

"Why?"

"The Turks—their official name is the Shin-Ra Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department—were something like…spies and security mixed into one. Nothing happened in Shin-Ra that they didn't know about. They were bodyguards to the President and monitored everything about him too. Shin-Ra higher-ups trusted them with everything."

"And how do you know this?" Squall asked, suspending his belief.

"My grandma's grandma's mom," Irvine said confidently. "Her name was Ellyse Kinneas—but her operative name was Shotgun. They weren't supposed to keep any records but she kept some letters under a floorboard in her room that my great-gram found after inheriting the house. Cool, huh?"

"Shotgun?"

Irvine led them over to the wall near the door where he had a small poster with pictures and drawings of a bunch of people. He pointed his finger proudly at a blurry image of a woman with long brown hair a few shades lighter than his. "That's her," he said. "The other operatives I know about were Rod, Katana, Gun, Two Guns, Martial Arts, Knife and Shuriken. Their leader was a dude named Veld." He directed their attention to another fuzzy picture of Shotgun standing with her arm around a middle-aged man with reddish-brown hair and a scar on his face. They were smiling and both in that period's version of a suit.

The two visitors started at the beginning and worked their way around, Irvine happy to chatter on about the Turks. The man nervously stuttered that he preferred if Cloud did not take pictures, paranoid about the government finding out about it, so Cloud pulled out his notebook and took furious notes.

The Turks were even more involved with Shin-Ra than Cloud had thought. Shotgun's diary and kept letters from other Turks documented Turk initiatives regarding many of Shin-Ra's actions before the war, their choices to plant Mako reactors (she described in detail a hit she was assigned on an environmentalist who raised too big a ruckus about the installation of Mako Reactor 4). There was even a mention of Hojo in one, just in passing: I spent some time in Hojo's laboratory today. It makes me sick to stand guard over that man.

Irvine had a lot of information but it was by no means complete; his and Squall's heads swam with too many questions and not enough answers by the time they made their way through Irvine's entire small exhibit. The brunet was still yapping on about something about Turk uniforms but Cloud had to stop him.

"Do you have anything at all about Sephiroth? That's what I'm researching—his death."

The man frowned but then cocked his head. "Yeah," he said after a moment, "Actually—I do. It's upstairs; I didn't want to put it out. Let me go get it."

Cloud thanked him and when Irvine returned he had a single page of once-folded parchment that he held gingerly. "This is a weird one," the man said, and the other two men crowded around.

My dearest 'Shotgun,' the letter began, and it was November 15, the day Sephiroth and his friends were discovered dead, 'I write this to you in grave distress. You have probably heard the news by now. I will see you in a few days in Midgar, no doubt, once Wallace's surrender is accepted and the fighting ceases. I am now in Rocket Town, having just crossed the Nibel Mountains with 'Knife' and 'Two Guns.' Last night I was outside Nibelheim at the SOLDIER camp overseeing the festivities. Yes, I was there as it happened. You were right. You were right and it easily could have been prevented…I cannot help but feel at least partially responsible. The Turks should have stopped that man. Last night Sephiroth sought me out; it was just as we feared. I hid it as Sephiroth requested. It is such a shame Zack will never be able to use his new gift…I know they were all ecstatic about giving it to him.

I feel as if my heart is breaking. It is some small comfort to know I could do one last thing for Sephiroth and his friends before they died. They were friends to all of us.

I will tell you more when I next see you. Stay safe. Burn this after it reaches you.

Veld

Squall and Irvine seemed mildly curious but Cloud felt like the floor was moving beneath his feet. He almost staggered. "Irvine," he said breathlessly, "What does this mean? Is there any more?"

"No. Her diary doesn't have any entries after this for the next month and a half…and there aren't any more letters from Veld. What's wrong?"

Cloud was sweaty and felt a little faint. "I need this," he said firmly.

"Uh…no."

"Irvine. You don't understand—this is important."

"That's what you keep telling me," Squall interrupted, not helping him in the slightest. Cloud ignored him.

"You're positive that there isn't anything else related to Sephiroth in your collection?"

"No, man, I swear. This is it. Do you know what the hell they're talking about?"

"No," Cloud answered, pulling out his phone, "but I know someone who might." He snatched the letter out of Irvine's hand and snapped a quick picture before the man could stop him.

"Hey!" Irvine protested, grabbing it back, "Delete that—you're gonna get me caught or somethin', man!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. We'll be in touch." He headed for the door and called over his shoulder, "Come on, Squall!" He darted for his car and got in, quickly programming his phone's GPS to give him driving directions to Nibelheim. It was a bit closer to go directly there via a different highway than to go back to Midgar and to Nibelhiem from there. He had more than enough gas to get there and back to the city later.

"Come on!" He bellowed out the window, and Squall finally got in, scowling at him and shrugging at Irvine who was pissed off in the doorway of his shop.

Cloud hit the gas and they left Kalm.

"Where are we going?" Squall demanded.

"Please, Squall," Cloud pleaded, "Just sit tight. I'm sorry this is so confusing for you but you have to trust me."

"But where are we going?"

"…Not to Midgar."

"Dammit, Cloud."

Squall fell into moody silence for a time and Cloud prayed it would continue as he sped whenever possible, slowing only if he saw a cop waiting to pull people over. There were so many questions: Veld knew that the four men were going to die it seemed—why? "It was just as we feared?" Who? Veld and Shotgun, or Veld and Sephiroth? What the hell happened that night?

After an hour Squall grew angry. The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky – it was now just after six o'clock and class just before noon that day seemed so long ago. When Cloud dodged more questions about where they were going and what they were going Squall cursed him out and demanded he pull over. Cloud saw red and screamed, "God damn it, Squall! This isn't about you!"

His anger took the man by surprise. The blond never yelled; he only raised his voice a few times during the break-up. "This is bigger than you—it's bigger than me! We have to solve this mystery Squall—just shut the fuck up and let me do this! I'll bring you home later and I won't bother you ever again if that's the issue, just be quiet!"

Somehow it worked. Squall's bitchfit subsided and he shut up, looking out the window as they took the long drive back to Cloud's hometown, not that he knew that is where they were going. When the land transformed and began to look familiar Squall sat up straight, alarmed. The sky was deep orange and pink as they passed Nibelheim manor on the outside of town.

Years ago they climbed over the outside fence with its numerous KEEP OUT – DANGER! signs and poked around the outside of the house for a while, snuggled close together because of the cold and making up ridiculous stories about how the local eyesore was haunted. Squall looked uneasy. He started freaking out again as they drove through Nibelheim's main road—certainly familiar, because of all the times Squall slept over with Cloud at his mom's for holidays or something—and when Cloud's mom's house came into view he looked seconds away from grabbing the steering wheel and turning them around himself.

"Cloud!" Squall exclaimed, and he sounded afraid.

"We're not going to my mom's," Cloud muttered. If he had told Squall two and a half hours ago back in Kalm that they were going to Nibelheim the man surely would have jumped out of the car at a red light and attempted to hitchhike home. Cloud's mom was undeniably pissed at the brunet and had been ever since Cloud hysterically broke down over the phone to her in a department store after having to return Squall's engagement ring. It was unsurprising to find the man did not want to see her.

They continued past the house and to the right, down that long, empty dirt road lined by fields. They stopped at a seemingly random swath of land and Squall stared as Cloud barreled out of the car, notebook and phone (and keys so Squall couldn't take off with his vehicle) in hand. He ran through the grass until he was sure he passed that barrier Sephiroth could not cross and he stood still, panting.

The sun was not set enough, however. Squall got out of the car and came over, hands in his pockets and looking beyond irritated. "What are you doing?" he asked flatly.

"Waiting."

"For what?"

"You'll see."

Squall snapped, throwing up his arms. "You can't just take me here without giving a good explanation!" He marched closer into Cloud's space and used his small height advantage to loom into Cloud's face, his own snarling. "I've been patient this whole time figuring you would explain but you haven't. I don't want to be in Nibelheim, and I especially don't want to be here with you!"

Cloud used both hands to shove Squall in the chest, his materials falling to the dirt. Squall's annoyance and confusion was warranted, he knew that, but he was desperate and upset that Sephiroth was not appearing yet and that Squall had been such a dick all day and he didn't want to have to explain a thing like ghosts and wanted the brunet to leave him alone for five Gaia-damn minutes.

"Back off. I'll apologize again—I'm sorry, Squall, for bringing you here without explaining. I can't, though—you'll just have to see for yourself. This is really fucking important and you'll just have to deal! It will make sense, you just have to wait."

He stormed back to the car, pushing past Squall, and grabbed his beach chair from the trunk. He dragged it back to the center of the field, grabbed his fallen stuff and sat down with it all, stubbornly watching the horizon as the sky turned purple, the sun nearly all set.

After threatening to walk off (to which Cloud replied Go for it. Say hi to my mom for me when she sees you walk by her front porch) Squall sat on the hood of Cloud's car back on the road and went back to fiddling on his phone. Cloud hoped he wasn't calling the police to report a kidnapping.

"I know you're here even if I can't see or hear you yet, Seph," he said to himself as Squall, as far away as he was, could not hear him. He waited patiently.

The sun soon set entirely and Cloud got out of his chair, walking this way and that with his head whipping back and forth. Squall took that as his cue to come back over. Irritably he asked again what was going on.

"Quiet," Cloud hissed. Then he called out, "Sephiroth! Seph!"

Squall looked at Cloud like he lost his mind. "'Sephiroth?'" he repeated incredulously.

Then, to Cloud's immense relief, the ghost materialized in front of him. He did not look happy; his eyes were narrowed. He glared at Squall.

"Sephiroth," Cloud breathed, and the ghost turned to look at him. "I've got some information for you."

"Cloud," Squall interrupted, staring uncomprehendingly at Sephiroth, or rather the general space the ghost occupied, "What the hell is that?"

The blond smiled. Finally, thankfully, something went right. "This is the ghost of Sephiroth Crescent," he said proudly. "Sephiroth, meet Squall Leonhart."