Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Children ❯ Interlude 06: Bedshaped ( Chapter 18 )

Shattered Children: Interlude Six

Bedshaped

 

It was warm, a pleasant smell wafting throughout the entire kitchen. Shera reveled in it, sitting back in her chair with a happy sigh as she awaited the fruits of her husband's labor. He had promised to make her favorite dinner after all. And all she had to do was take care of Dominic until it was ready. Simple as refurbishing a mako converter, really.

 

In her lap, Dominic was gurgling and looking about him with interest. Smiling at her son, Shera tickled at his belly and was rewarded with a wriggle and a small laugh. Big brown eyes blinked up at her adoringly, his head covered with a fair share of brown fuzz, tightly kinked against his skull.

 

She ran her fingers gently over the growth, remarking that they would have to start trimming it soon otherwise it would make his head hurt. She had wondered how the mixing of their bloods would appear. The curled hair was only the beginning. His skin was a lovely brown shade, and Shera knew that all mother's thought so of their children, but she was certain her son was beautiful.

 

The clatter of dishes and silverware was a welcome background noise, and Shera couldn't help the warmth of happiness that curled in her stomach. The Chaos War was over, both of her loved ones emerging unscathed. What more could she ask for? And Rude...

 

Her eyes traveled to her husband, catching the broad strength of his back as he cooked over the stove with efficient motions. His bald head glinted in the overhead light and Shera had to stifle a giggle, lest he turn around and demand an explanation. While it was amusing to tease Rude, she didn't want to at the moment. She was too busy soaking up the moment.

 

“And what is that look for?”

 

Shera blinked, catching her husband's glance as he peered over his shoulder, lacking the distinctive sunglasses. “What look?” she asked innocently, joggling Dominic on her lap.

 

He was an energetic child who always wanted to be in motion. A small finger poked at her, catching her cheek, as Dominic giggled again. Shera turned and pretended to catch the finger with her mouth, causing her son to smile again. They played this game often, mischievous child that he was.

 

“The look that says you're probably plotting something devious,” Rude answered with bemusement, opening the cupboards above him and beginning to pull down plates and other necessary items.

 

“Now why would I do something like that?” Shera shot back with equal amusement, the scent of their dinner floating to her nose.

 

She relished in the flavors that would soon be hers, and ignored the strange tugging in her gut. It was probably just hunger that was making her nauseous. That did happen from time to time.

 

Rude smiled at her as he slid the plates onto the table, setting out pan holders for the warmer dishes. “Because you wouldn't be you if you didn't,” he retorted, looking unbelievably handsome as he set dishes in front of her.

 

Making a non-committal sound in her throat, her eyes fell to the food set before her. Baked salmon coated in lemon, wild rice and steamed vegetables. Her absolutely favorite meal. Yet, her stomach did another uncomfortable flip-flop. It churned rather nauseatingly and Shera swallowed thickly.

 

It looked absolutely delicious. And if she looked at it for another minute longer she was going to vomit. No... no, actually she was going to vomit. Practically hurtling to her feet, she thrust Dominic in his father's direction, and was relieved when Rude took him immediately. The expression on his face was full of curiosity.

 

She didn't bear that any mind, however, and made straight for the hallway and the first bathroom she came upon. Shera's stomach did a clenching, angry flip and she knew for certain, she wasn't going to be able to hold it in. She barely made it to the bathroom in time.

 

Left behind in the dining room, Rude could only blink after his wife's abrupt disappearance. She had been incredibly pale, he had noticed. Confused, he looked down at his son, who only gurgled up at him, smiling innocently. He had no clue either.

 

Tucking Dominic into the safety of one arm, Rude shook his head and continued to set out the rest of dinner, including pouring something for his wife to drink. “Your mother can be odd sometimes,” he told his son, and received a poke to the side in response.

 

It seemed a rather advanced reaction for an infant of Dominic's age, but the doctor had assured him such behaviors were normal. Not for other children, of course, but considering the side effects of the mako enhancement, they were quite usual for Dominic. Just like little Midori, Dominic was going to be an extraordinary individual as he aged.

 

Rude couldn't be more proud, but he was more relieved that the mako testing hadn't turned out to be detrimental for his child. And he knew that Shera was relieved as well. She had hid her fears well, as strong as she was, but she had never been able to completely hide those types of feelings from him.

 

Minutes passed without his wife returning and concerned, Rude finally hitched Dominic onto his hip and decided to investigate. He walked down the hall, bypassing the door to the den and Dominic's bedroom before coming to the closed door of the bathroom. Light streaming from below was all the information he needed.

 

He lifted a hand and knocked gently on the door. “Shera? Is everything all right?”

 

There was a moment's silence before he heard the sound of the toilet flushing. The door cracked open and his wife stood in the doorway, a strange half-smile on her face. She still looked pale, but better than before.

 

“It depends on what you mean by all right,” she responded, sounding a little exhausted.

 

He eyed her carefully. “Are you sick?”

 

She shook her head, and let a small laugh escape her. “Not quite.” Shera reached for her son, whom Rude obediently handed over, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “But this feeling is probably going to stick around for the next... oh, I'd say eight and a half months.”

 

Rude blinked in confusion. “Months? What kind of...” he trailed off when he caught the look in her eyes, and the amusement glinting there. His jaw nearly dropped. “...Really? You're pregnant?”

 

Laughing, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “The last time I felt like this we learned about Dominic. I don't think I'm wrong, but to be sure, I should probably go to the doctor.”

 

Completely awed, Rude couldn't help but lay a hand on her flat belly, knowing that it would soon swell with another life. His child. A surge of affection rushed through Rude and wrapped his arms around his wife and son, drawing them into a strong hug. His lips found Shera's and he kissed her deeply, putting all of his joy behind the kiss.

 

A squirm and muffled whine informed him of his son's discomfort, and he quickly drew away. Dominic looked up at him in annoyance, angrily pushing a fist at his father for trying to squish him. Rude smiled goofily back at his son, happy beyond words.

 

“I take it you're pleased,” Shera responded with amusement, quite liking the look of happy fluster on her husband's expression.

 

“So pleased I might have to make your favorite dessert after all,” he returned easily, already plotting names in the back of his mind.

 

Daughter or son, it didn't matter to him. For a man who never expected to have family like this, but to spend the rest of his life in espionage and murder, he couldn't be more ecstatic.

 

Shera chuckled, and urged him down the hall ahead of her. “While you're at it, make a different dinner. I don't think I'll be eating salmon anytime soon.”

 

“Whatever you want dearest,” Rude replied, practically ecstatic. “I am but your faithful servant.”

 

The woman laughed, rocking Dominic in her arms. Though she didn't look forward to the discomfort of the next eight and a half months, the joy in Rude's expression and the excitement in her own made it well worth it. And looking at her child, soon to have a sibling, Shera couldn't claim that she didn't want another.

 

She never would have thought that she could be this happy, and though they had gone through much to get here, she wouldn't trade it for the world.

 

Not a single moment of it.

 

* * *

 

“Sephy!”

 

The former general oomphed as he was suddenly given an armful of laughing, smiling child, Denzel having thrown himself at his favorite person. Normally subdued, the only time Denzel truly seemed to act his age was whenever he saw Sephiroth. He was baffled as to why, uncertain why the boy would put so much faith in him.

 

He patted the brown hair with one hand as Denzel wrapped his arms around Sephiroth, squeezing him tightly. “Hello, Denzel.”

 

Big eyes looked up at him, literally dancing with happiness. “I haven't seen you in forever,” the child replied with typical child-like hyperbole. “Where have you been?”

 

Sephiroth felt something stab in his gut but he chased it down. “I was on business for Reeve helping the city of Kalm. But I brought you something.”

 

If it was possible for Denzel's eyes to get any brighter, they would have. “Really? What is it?” he asked eagerly, hands clutching onto Sephiroth's shirt.

 

Despite himself, Sephiroth chuckled, digging around in his pocket for the item he had brought the boy. It was still wrapped in newspaper, the best thing he could find to conceal it and protect his clothes from the dirt that still clung to the outside of it. The paper crinkled loudly as he withdrew the item, about the size of his fists pressed together, and held it out. Brown eyes widened impossibly large as he released his latching hold on Sephiroth and took the wrapped item, grunting with the feel of the weight as it fell into his small hands.

 

“Open it,” Sephiroth urged quietly, well aware of the appraising jade eyes that were watching from the open doorway. Aeris rocked Midori in her arms, cooing softly to the infant as she observed the two of them.

 

Gratitude and excitement shone in the boy's eyes as he carefully peeled back the wrapper, taking more care in this than Aeris had ever seen before. Layers of newspaper, several days old, eventually revealed what appeared to be nothing more than a brown rock, some dirt still encrusted in the cracks. Confusion wrinkled the boy's forehead.

 

Placing his hand on the boy's hair and tousling it gently, Sephiroth lowered himself to a kneeling position. One hand tapped the rock. “It's a geode,” he explained. “It looks ugly on the outside, but when we cut it open, you'll see something beautiful.”

 

“What does it look like?” Denzel asked, cradling the rock even more lovingly now. He held it close to his chest, as though fearing dropping it would ruin it completely.

 

Sephiroth felt his back twinge, a flash of pain attacking him, but he held back on his wince for Denzel's sake. “We won't know until we open it.”

 

The boy glanced up at him eagerly. “Can we do it now?”

 

“Not in the house,” Aeris commented warningly, sounding very much like a mother as she flashed the two males a warm smile. “Go out back. There's plenty of room for mess out there.”

 

Denzel nodded, grabbing Sephiroth's hand and trying to urge him along, though with a lot less enthusiasm than Marlene would have chosen, thank goodness. Sephiroth rose to his feet, the sheath of his sword clanking with the motion. He caught Aeris' amused look before he was following the young boy from the room, through the kitchen and out the back door, which creaked as it slammed shut.

 

He quickly found himself facing a wide open field, a few trees dotting the landscape but not much else. He supposed it paid to have a house on the edge of the city rather than in the direct center of it. No sooner had they patted a few steps into the green grass than Denzel turned and pushed his geode in Sephiroth's direction, something unerringly like hero worship glinting in his eyes.

 

“How are you going to open it?”

 

Carefully taking the gift back momentarily, Sephiroth pulled off a glove and ran his fingers over the rocky outer layer. Some of the dirt flaked off under his touch.

 

“Normally, one would use expensive and careful equipment,” he explained, shifting the rock to his free hand and tossing it up and down as he gauged the weight. “But we don't have that luxury. So this is going to be a bit flashy. Step back, Denzel.”

 

If Zack could see him now, he would have laughed himself into an early grave. This type of display was more his best friend's forte, but Sephiroth honestly couldn't think of a better option other than seeking out a hammer and chisel. Both of which would take time he didn't think he had to spend in Rocket Town.

 

Denzel immediately obeyed, scurrying to stand behind Sephiroth, though he peeked around the former General's leather-clad form. Carefully, Sephiroth drew his sword - a temporary blade until he found something worthy of his ability - and drew a low-powered flame into it. Just enough to temper the blade with heat.

 

Flipping the geode a few more times in his hand, he gave it one final throw, tossing it up into the air. Denzel gasped as he watched it fly up, and then fall back towards the ground, turning end over end. Sephiroth gauged the distance carefully, and then his blade whistled through the open air, slicing cleanly through the rock. He barely even felt it disturb the sword as the two pieces fell to the ground, each section faintly smoking.

 

Denzel's eyes had widened in awe, and he rushed forward to grab the two halves as Sephiroth laid his blade aside. It would need to cool.

 

“Wait,” he commanded, crossing the field and crouching at Denzel's side. “Don't touch them just yet. They are still hot.”

 

Nodding yieldingly, Denzel knelt next to the two pieces, his hands on his knees. “It's pretty,” he commented, pointing to the splash of colors hidden within the brown and nondescript rock.

 

“Indeed,” Sephiroth agreed, tipping his head to the side as he considered the array of color and shape within the stone. “You are lucky. This is a very rare one. It's called a Thunderegg(1).” He reached forward, holding his hand over the geode and was relieved to find that no heat emanated from it. A careful touch proved that they were safe to handle.

 

“Why?” Denzel asked, accepting the piece that his adoptive father offered him. He carefully ran the pad of his fingers over the smooth crystal now revealed, tracing the jagged path of chalcedony.

 

Settling back into a seated position, and balancing his elbows on his knees, Sephiroth dug his spotty memory and geologic lessons that man had given him. “Most geodes have spikes of crystals in them. They aren't filled all the way. This one is.”

 

Denzel didn't reply, seemingly captivated by the stone in his hands. Sephiroth had picked it up in the mines between Fort Condor and the Chocobo Ranch, and his first instinct had been that Denzel would probably like it. He was glad that he had decided to keep it.

 

The boy's thumb passed over green jasper embedded within a translucent quartz matrix. “Where do you go?” he asked out of the blue, keeping his gaze focused on the stone as though he were afraid to look up at the adult. “When you're not here. Where are you?”

 

Twisting his jaw, Sephiroth fought back a sigh, hating the echo of loneliness in Denzel's voice. “Here and there,” he evaded, knowing he couldn't answer truthfully. Not that there was a complete truth. “I have to travel a lot for my job.”

 

“Aeris said that you're helping to protect everyone by killing the monsters,” Denzel replied, and finally lifted his eyes, meeting Sephiroth's. “She said that I have to learn patience and just wait for you to come back. Because you will if I wait long enough.”

 

The former General swallowed thickly, silence grabbing his tongue as a faint breeze stirred. It was fresh, carrying the scent of summer grass, and tossing his hair into his face. It didn't help him find the words that he needed to say, whatever they were.

 

A sound suddenly filled the air, a low buzzing noise that came from Sephiroth's pocket. He recognized the vibration immediately and dove a hand into his pocket, pulling out the phone. A number flashed on the display, but it was one he could easily ignore. Zack would understand. It wasn't as if he often answered his phone anyways.

 

Denzel pursed his lips, eyes squinting against the brightness of the sun. “I don't want to have patience. I want you to visit more.”

 

“It's not that simple,” Sephiroth replied, hating that he was letting down the one person who trusted him unconditionally. Who cared for him without good reason.

 

True he held close companions, such as Zack, but Denzel was still pure. Still good. He'd yet to be tainted by ShinRa and life, and Sephiroth hated to ruin that. Yet, he also clung to the boy's uninhibited love, because it represented something he had never experienced for himself. Oh, for the innocence of a child. Sephiroth wished he had known it for once in his life.

 

The boy sighed, his shoulders slumping glumly. “I know. People are depending on you.”

 

If that was the explanation Aeris had given him, then Sephiroth was content to let Denzel continue believing it. There was no use in explaining the truth, or the details. The boy didn't need to know.

 

His back twinged again and Sephiroth winced, feeling the crippling weakness spreading through his arm like a wildfire. The sores were increasing in size, sapping at his strength and seeping across his back. It wouldn't be long before people started to notice, most notably Tseng. He suspected that his excuse of a monster attack was wearing pretty damn thin.

 

“I will try to visit more often,” Sephiroth stated, knowing that he couldn't promise. He didn't dare make a vow he couldn't keep.

 

The smile that brightened Denzel's expression was nearly blinding at what was a very vague hope. And Sephiroth couldn't help but feel guilty. He tried to focus on something else, and noticed the glint of silver around Denzel's neck. He blinked. Was that what he thought it was?

 

Brow furrowed, the former General gestured towards the boy's necklace. “You still have those?” he questioned, having almost completely forgotten about them himself.

 

Denzel's free hand lifted, curling fingers around the tags present beneath his shirt. “Of course,” he stated proudly. “I never take them off. And I practice every day, too.”

 

“Practice what?”

 

“To be strong just like you,” Denzel replied fiercely, his eyes burning with a determination that Sephiroth had never seen in a child so young. Though they reflected a similar pair of bright blue eyes from so many years ago. “So I can protect everyone. Even you.”

 

Sephiroth swallowed thickly at the heartfelt words, feeling a warmth spreading through his chest. He reached out, brushing his hands over Denzel's hair affectionately, at a complete loss for words.

 

“I'm sure you will be,” he replied, the only thing he could think to say. To encourage him, because he couldn't dash a young boy's hopes like that.

 

He left out comments about how strength was more than power, and that sometimes, being the strongest wasn't all that great either. He avoided all mentioning of the hell that was warfare and how much it could ruin everything. He just wanted the boy to dream for a little while, because Sephiroth had never had that luxury and he'd be damned if he took it from someone else. Especially someone he considered family.

 

“In fact, I know...” But his words trailed off as he noticed something, the shadow of bluish-green on the boy's forehead. Sephiroth frowned, something inside of him growing cold. “Did you fall and hurt yourself, Denzel?”

 

The boy shook his head, dropping his gaze back to his gift and holding it up to the light. He watched it play across the crystallized surface. “Nope.”

 

Sephiroth's heart gave a careful stutter, his throat closing up at the sight that was all too familiar to him, but only recent to the rest of the world. The unexplained sickness that had yet to be named. Sephiroth had considered it punishment, but what would it serve to penalize an innocent child.

 

“Sephiroth?”

 

He looked over his shoulder, finding Aeris standing in the doorway, Midori on one hip and the cordless phone in her other hand. “Reeve called. He says he has something he needs you to take care of.”

 

That man had the worst timing. Sephiroth internally groaned, momentarily shifting his attention to Denzel, who looked up at him worriedly. “Are you leaving again?”

 

He shook his head. “Not yet. I promise. Can you stay here for a minute?”

 

The boy nodded, and Sephiroth quickly rose to his feet, striding back towards where Aeris was waiting. He took the phone from her hand, but only lifted it to his ear long enough to tell Reeve he would call him back and then hang up. Aeris' brow lifted at his abrupt ending to the call, since Sephiroth was usually so polite. It had been ingrained within him after all.

 

“Has Denzel fallen at all recently? Hit his head on the counter? Anything?” Sephiroth demanded, his words coming out a bit more harshly than he intended. And perhaps a bit too forceful as Aeris was taken aback by the sheer demand.

 

She blinked, her features coloring. “Not that I can think of. I mean, my eyes aren't on him at every moment and he's so quiet.” Aeris sighed, shifting Midori in her arms, the child making a sound of discontent for the movement. “You're talking about the bruise on his forehead, aren't you?”

 

“It's not a bruise,” Sephiroth muttered, his heart sinking. “How I wish it were.” He scraped a hand over his face, feeling every inch of helpless.

 

“Sephiroth, what's going on,” Aeris questioned as the phone began to ring, no doubt the President worried about the abrupt ending to the previous call.

 

Sephiroth held it up for the woman to take. “Ask Reeve, I'm sure he can explain it better.” The worry in her eyes was regrettable, but she had to know the truth. He wanted her to be prepared in case...

 

In case...

 

No, Sephiroth wasn't going to think about that for the moment. He didn't even want to consider that outcome. Reeve would find something. The scientists at WRO. Surely someone would find something. He wasn't going to just let Denzel die.

 

Aeris took the phone without a word, and Sephiroth left her to her conversation, determined to return to Denzel's side. He couldn't heal him dammit, he couldn't even help to find the cure. He couldn't protect the boy and he was pretty much useless as everything, especially a human being. But having him around seemed to make Denzel happy. And though Sephiroth didn't understand it, the least he could do was be a presence.

 

* * *

 

The moment she pressed her palm to the clean, polished wood and pushed it open, the low, sensuous strains of a saxophone floated to her ears. It thrummed into her veins, a smoky sound that made her heart stir. Reis smiled, stepping into the coffeehouse and instantly greeted with the wonderful smell of freshly ground coffee beans and something sweet baking in the kitchen.

 

She had never been to this business before, hadn't so much as heard of it. But judging from the packed tables and the crowd, it was quite popular. There was a low murmur of conversation, most people enjoying the jazz ensemble on the stage. It was dim, the only light that necessary for movement, keeping the entire establishment very private and contained. The walls were covered in artistic renderings of various tastes.

 

Blinking in surprise, Reis took several steps into the coffeehouse, scanning the seated crowd for a familiar face. She spotted Yazoo instantly, the silver hair a dead giveaway. He was sitting near the stage, his back to the door. Reis felt her heart give a flutter, one that was coming all too often lately, as she weaved her way through the crowd.

 

The last strains of the unfamiliar melody threaded through the coffeehouse before they slowly launched into a new song. This one, she could almost name, swearing that it was on the tip of her tongue. The sax started out slow and smoky, with a rising crescendo that twirled. It was beautiful.

 

Slipping around the table, Reis dropped her bag into an empty chair and slid into the one beside it, appearing right in front of Yazoo. “Been waiting long?” she asked, captivated for a moment by those pale green eyes. She was so envious of them.

 

He shook his head, tucking a lock of silver hair behind his ear. “Just arrived myself.” Yazoo glanced around with a pointed look. “It was almost impossible to get a table.”

 

“I can see,” Reis replied, and settled into her seat, sinking comfortably into the soft cushions. “How did you find this place? I've never even heard of it. And I thought I'd been to all of the good coffeehouses in Junon.”

 

He lifted a hand, gesturing vaguely. A small, almost sad smile decorated his lips. “I followed the music.”

 

Reis looked at him for a moment, trying to decide if he were serious, before chuckling lightly. “Poetic of you.”

 

He shrugged. “In all honesty, I heard that song you often play, and it drew me in. Much like your violin.”

 

“Now that answer makes sense,” the young doctor replied, and ended up having to fight the attack of a yawn. “Sorry.”

 

Her fatigue was catching up to her. Not that she would have missed this meeting for the world. It had been almost a week since she had heard from Yazoo and Reis was beginning to worry. When she had received the phone call, she had switched shifts with someone to make sure she could meet with him.

 

Yazoo tipped his head to the side, curious gaze watching her. “Long day?”

 

Waving him off, Reis carefully shielded her mouth, in case another yawn snuck up on her. “Another emergency. But that's how it is with doctors. You learn to handle it.”

 

Understanding filtered into Yazoo's expression, but before he could comment, one of the servers wandered up to their table, having noticed their lack of food or drink. Pulling a tablet out of her pocket, the young woman smiled warmly at the both of them.

 

“Welcome. What can I get for you this afternoon?” the server, whose name tag read Kazuya, asked politely.

 

It was nothing they weren't already skilled at ordering, having frequented many coffeehouses in their ever-increasing relationship. Yazoo didn't even pause as he placed his order.

 

“An Espresso Truffle. Tall, if you would please.”

 

Reis couldn't help a small smile. Yazoo always ordered something with chocolate in it, and the more amped on Espresso, the better. “Vanilla Frappuccino for me. And make sure it is decaf.”

 

Inclining her head, the server scribbled their order down and shoved the pad back into her pocket. “Alright. I'll be with you shortly. Please, enjoy the show.” And with that she was gone, zooming around the establishment with the speed and efficiency of someone who was very skilled at her job.

 

Yazoo arched one brow after they left. “Switching to decaf?”

 

“For today anyways,” Reis replied, breathing deeply of the wonderful odor of coffee. It was one of her favorite flavors. “I want to actually sleep tonight. Not be hyped up on caffeine.”

 

“Logical as always.” His gaze shifted away from her, not really focused on anything. And he sounded odd, at least to her. There was a tiredness to his voice not usually present, a wrinkle to his youthful face that betrayed his troubles.

 

Reis shifted forward in her seat, eying him worriedly. “Yazoo... is everything all right? Nothing's happened to your brothers has it?”

 

He shook his head, and then grew aggravated with the fall of hair into his face. He reached up and pulled the long strands back, a part of her lightened by the sight of the hair tie that he used. The same one she had given him.

 

“Loz and Kadaj are fine,” he responded with a sigh, forcefully dragging his gaze back to her. “And I am sorry if my absence.... troubled you.”

 

“I wouldn't call it trouble,” Reis attempted to joke, but it fell flat with the awkward hesitation that lingered over their table. As well as the sobriety of the situation. “There must be something else then.”

 

He winced, one hand rising to his forehead where he rubbed fingers across his brow. Bare fingers, she belated noticed, where he usually wore black leather gloves. His hands were so pale, just like the rest of him. But he had artist fingers, long and elegant, reflecting just how beautifully he played the piano.

 

His other hand lay flat against the tabletop, but he was flexing his knuckles, as though trying to keep from balling his fingers in his fist. “I wanted to thank you,” he began softly, and Reis suddenly had a worrisome feeling.

 

“For what?”

 

Yazoo sighed faintly, as though he were fighting with something internally. “I have to leave,” he suddenly stated, and straightened, dropping his hand from his head. “It's likely that we will never meet again.” Pale eyes met hers, troubled and indecisive. Regretful.

 

The doctor was at a loss for words - truly a first for her as Reeve would have teased. It didn't sound like the simple act of someone who was moving away for something greater. There was a look in Yazoo's eyes, of something final and destructive. She swallowed thickly, searching for an appropriate response.

 

“What are you talking about?Are you in trouble?”

 

He laughed, but it was far from comical, leaning more towards bitter sarcasm. “Were it only that easy.”

 

“I can probably help,” Reis assured him, watching as he bit his lip, nearly chewing on it, his eyes darkening in color. “And I know my brother can. Reeve--”

 

“He can't,” Yazoo interrupted with a firm shake of his head. He paused to take a deep breath, fingers curling against the table top. “I think we're all beyond the point of saving.”

 

Reis blinked at his abrupt words, the worry trickling through her blossoming into full-on concern, making her heart stutter. “Yazoo--”

 

He rose to his feet quickly, nearly shoving his chair backwards with the sudden movement. Luckily, the other patrons were too enthralled by the music and their own conversations to really pay any attention to theirs. “It's best if you forgot about me. For your safety, Reis.”

 

“But I...”

 

“Here are your drinks.” Their server appeared out of nowhere with perfect timing, their order carefully balanced on a tray. She had been preoccupied and hadn't noticed their discussion, but now she paused, her gaze flickering between the two.

 

Yazoo took the moment of distraction to shake his head, already backing towards the door. “I didn't mean for it to end like this,” he muttered, meeting Reis' amber gaze strongly for all of a second. And then he was darting into the dim of the crowd, moving quicker than she could have expected.

 

“Is he...?”

 

Reis didn't bother to answer the woman's question, grabbing her bag and trying not to trip on her own feet as she skirted around tables and other customers. How Yazoo had done it so quickly and with obvious ease, she didn't know. But she had to catch up to him, to find him and get more explanations than the vague mentions.

 

His eyes... they had been so resigned. Lonely and afraid, she was certain of it. Whatever reason had kept him missing for a week, whatever had always haunted him when she talked about her family and he didn't. Whatever softened his gaze when he spoke of his brothers. There was something there, she was certain of it.

 

A few stared as she edged past them, finally breaking free of the table cluttered with chairs. She caught a glimpse of silver hair heading towards the door, and cursed under her breath in aggravation. Her mother would have been scandalized. Not that she really cared.

 

In the background, the song ended, and the familiar strains of her favorite song, the one that Yazoo had probably been referring to, began to echo through the coffeehouse. How ironic. Nearly clonking someone over the head with her handbag, Reis slid around the first table and headed straight for the exit. She skirted around a couple entering, ignoring their wide-eyed stares, and burst out onto the sidewalk.

 

Unsurprisingly, it was packed with people, as the streets of Junon often were. The city, formerly abandoned with the building of Midgar and other new cities, had become more populated after the Chaos War. Since other towns had been demolished, many residents had sought refuge in Junon and never left, thus the increase in population.

 

Reis' frantically scanned the crowd, relieved for her height in that moment. Silver hair should have been easy to spot, especially Yazoo's long locks. As would that black leather outfit. Her breath in her throat, she stalked down the sidewalk, eyes whipping around the area.

 

But he was gone, disappearing into thin air. He had appeared like that often, out of nowhere with no warning and no sign. Footsteps silent. Trained. Not unlike her brother-in-law. Reno was always sneaking up on her on purpose. It amused him to surprise her.

 

Sighing in disappointment, Reis dropped down into an empty bench, ignoring the strange stares she was garnering. She couldn't--

 

The sound of crying snapped her out of her dreams, Revan's wailing like an instant alarm. With a groan, Reis rubbed her hand over her face and pushed the blanket off her legs. Her back ached from the strange position, but that was only a consequence of napping on a couch. Never the most comfortable.

 

Running a hand over her hair, likely disheveled by now, Reis rose to her feet and half-stumbled towards the side bedroom where the upset cries were echoing from. The dream lingered in the back of her mind. Or memory, to be more precise. That was the last time she had seen Yazoo, several days ago and long before this whole mess started. The same mess her brother had sent her away from as if she couldn't take care of herself.

 

Revan's crying grew louder as she pushed open the door and Reis clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “We're both supposed to be napping,” she reminded the infant, scooping the babe into her arms.

 

Revan hiccuped, blue eyes bright from crying. She made a gurgle, her hands clutching onto Reis' clothing as she cradled the infant. Sighing, Reis gently traced her fingers over Revan's dark fuzz and quickly checked the diaper. Nope, still clean and dry. And she couldn't possibly be hungry, considering they'd only been napping for twenty minutes and she had just fed her.

 

Tucking the infant's blanket tighter around her, Reis returned to the living room and plopped back down on the couch. Revan had stopped crying once Reis picked her up. The little brat had probably wanted attention. No surprise there. It didn't help that Reeve and Reno both doted on her.

 

Somewhat amused, Reis settled into the cushions, Revan tucked into her arm, and reached for the remote. Fighting back a yawn - it had been a long day - she clicked on the television, looking for something vaguely distracting or interesting. Reis never bothered to change the channel, her attention grabbed by a flash news report.

 

Her heart climbed into her chest, and she hurriedly turned up the volume. When Reeve said danger was coming, she hadn't expected that. Her eyes widened at the sight of the huge creature flying over the streets of Junon, the camera a bit shaky as it was done by an amateur. Already, she could see several buildings were demolished, her worry eased only by the sight of the WRO headquarters still standing.

 

The screen switched to the announcer, whose face was pinched with concern. “This scene is matched in its horror only by one witnessed earlier today, where dozens of children appeared to be held hostage by two young men. Our newsmen were able to shoot this footage before being attacked by the beasts the men summoned.”

 

Reis' mouth dropped, her eyes widening impossibly large, as the steady camera focused in on the main square of Junon. At least a dozen children were visible within the camera's view, circling the infamous statue, and standing in front of them, staring impassively, were Yazoo and what had to be one of his brothers. She suspected Loz since he was the eldest and fit Yazoo's description.

 

What in Hades was going on? Was that Yazoo had meant?

 

Lips firming, unable to take her eyes away from the screen, Reis scrabbled for her cell. A few key presses and she was dialing Yazoo's phone, not that he had answered it in the past few days. This time, rather than receiving voice mail, she was sent straight to a message. The number had been disconnected.

 

Reis cursed fluently under her breath, and then looked down at the impressionable infant in her arms. “Don't tell your daddy I said that,” she murmured, already keying in the next number. Easy to do so when it was first on her speed dial. “And if he doesn't answer his phone, you and I are heading back to Junon if I have to steal a helicopter to get there.”

 

Revan gurgled, in complete agreement, one hand reaching for the phone.

 

The phone rang several times before it was answered, Reeve's voice pouring through the receiver along with a hefty dose of wind static. “Reis? Is everything alright?”

 

“How can you ask me that?” she demanded hotly, feeling her fingers clench around the phone. “Worrying about me when you've got a forty foot snake trying to destroy Junon!”

 

The cell crackled and she lost the first bits of his sentence. “--worry. We'll be fine. We're trained for this.”

 

“You're an executive!” Reis declared, trying her best not to shriek. “And I'm here, just like I was before, while you're running out there fighting monsters! And why is Yazoo in the thick of it?”

 

There was a moment of silence, that she couldn't tell if it was intentional or a consequence of the wind disruption, before her brother answered. “You know him?”

 

She let out a sound of aggravation. “That's not important right now. What's going on?”

 

In the background, she heard the distinct sound of an explosion, and someone cursed fluently. It sounded like Reno. Her eyes flickered to the television, the screen showing scenes of the huge dragon crashing into a building as though having been bore down by a great force.

 

“Reis, I have to go,” Reeve stated, his words fading in and out. “I promise, I'll call you when this is all over.”

 

“Reeve!”

 

But he had already ended the call. With a sigh of aggravation, she tossed her head back against the couch and dropped the cell phone onto an empty cushion. Revan shifted in her arms, gurgling worriedly.

 

Reis' free hand rose, the back of her wrist falling across her eyes as she swallowed thickly. She couldn't fight. Reis knew that logically. She had no experience in battle and would likely get herself killed. But she wanted to be there, she had to know. Just what was happening with Yazoo?

 

The unanswered questions were driving her mad.

 

* * *