Rescuing the rescuers; A new passenger and the discussion of more;

Walk down memory lane; Settle down now;

Hailing AVALANCHE; The enemy of my enemy;

Cid had pulled some really stupid stunts in his day. Dropped-on-head-as-baby stupid, look-at-rain-and-call-it-sunny stupid. And this trick definitely made his top five, all-time, world-record-setting stupid stunts list. Junon had big fuck-off gun emplacements on the look-out for a strange airship, and here he was, flying right into them.

But, look. Air and Space wasn't back up in the sky over the city yet, and the skeletal Sister Ray was still surrounded by construction scaffolding. The Shera had big fuck-off energy shields that were a match for the guns below, even if everything else on the ship ran slower while they were up. And the MPs were right on his people's tails. So if ever there was some kinda time to bring his pride and joy straight over an armed and hostile city, it was now.

The ship vibrated and groaned, hurting with effort, as the guns below banged away - the big thuds of mortar fire, the hail-on-a-tin-roof rattle of machine guns. He patted the steering column with one hand, the other gripped the wheel white-knuckled. "Hang the hell in there, baby."

Shera and Barret were down in the cargo bay, firing through the cracked open hatch, covering for the Nibelheimers and the Vincents. The small part of him that wasn't fully preoccupied keeping them in place thought he should really consider getting guns on the ship.

The fire from below wasn't enough to crash the airship, but she was still taking a beating and gonna need some serious repairs as soon as they were able. The com crackled and Shera's voice came through. "They're aboard! Pull away!"

He slammed buttons and levers, getting them up and out, over the ocean, gaining altitude fast to get out of range of the navy's guns. A hubbub of voices and ringing footsteps in the hall preceded his passengers. He shouted, jerking his head at an instrument bank, "One of you idiots get on the monitors over there to tell me if anything starts climbing up my ass!"

He could hear the scuff of Shera's tennis shoes moving before he'd finished, taking up the position. A damn good thing, as she was the only one of any real use deciphering the read-outs.

"And Vincents, get to the air boards or ready to summon or fuckin' whatever, in case we do get some goddamn company." He glanced over his shoulder as the gunmen left. The Nibelheim parents were flushed and sweating and looked like they were running on pure adrenaline, but at least they appeared to be in one piece. The kiddos were babbling around them, with a relieved looking Barret hovering nearby.

A shell-shocked young Shera stood in the middle of the noise. Her brown hair was mussed and only shoulder-length, black stains of grease or soot marked her lab coat, and one lens of her glasses was cracked.

Heat prickled up Cid's neck. "Alright, ya numbskulls, wanna tell me what the fuckin' hell went wrong?"

Brian immediately bristled. "She was being taken into custody as we arrived. You're fortunate we were able to get her out at all."

Young Shera turned white-rimmed eyes toward him. "I… what? You kidnapped me!"

"Not exactly," started Claudia.

"They frikkin' saved ya, woman!" Cid bellowed. The wheel creaked under his grip. He couldn't bear to look at her, but he had a hard time looking anywhere else, either.

Shera shouted from the monitor bank. "Cid! Helicopter!"

Fucking Turks. He grabbed the intercom. "Vincent, got some of yer kind of company. What the fuck d'ya wanna do about it?"

The com crackled back. "Climb a hundred yards, then hold position."

"Fuckin' climbin'." He took them even further up and brought the ship to a steady hover as the indicator light for the open bay door flashed on. Moments later, the light for the air-board launch came on. So they were going to meet them mid-air.

"You're those terrorists!" young Shera blurted, not as though she'd just figured it out, but as though she simply couldn't keep it behind her teeth any longer.

"Ain't got time to bring ya up to speed," he snapped. "Parents, take the ankle biters and Shera and go make a pot of tea or some shit. I don't need y'all yelling in my damn earholes."

Barret, looking resigned, started herding everyone together, but Cid barked at him to stay.

"Not you. I need you 'round the back to tell me what the hell is going on out there." Besides guns, he really needed some rear cameras. He didn't know what Vincent was doing out there, and he needed to, so he could keep taking appropriate action.

There was a scuffling noise by the door. "This is absolutely -" young Shera was insisting, voice high, bracing herself against Claudia and Brian's pushing hands, "- a mistake, you had better -"

"I told y'all to get off my bridge!" No wonder Cloud and Tifa had gone and knocked their folks out.

Shera hurried over from her station, hands raised placatingly. "I know things are confusing right now, but I promise we aren't going to hurt you. Let's just go for -"

"You're terrorists!"

Shera winced. "Not exactly."

"Yeah, we are," Cid barked. "We're terrorizing Shinra."

"Cid!"

"What? It's true!"

"It's not helpful."

"Ignore him." Claudia put a gentle hand on the younger Shera's shoulder. "We've been in your shoes, so come with us and we'll explain."

"What?! But-"

The com popped, and Barret's voice came through. "Yo, Cid, you got any lifeboats or floatation devices?"

"Got a couple yellow inflatables, why?"

"The Vincents are on the ladder with a couple of knocked out Turks and I ain't bringin' 'em with us."

"Damn right, we ain't takin' those chucklefucks with us." He told Barret where to find the rafts and brought the airship lower towards the water.

They left Tseng and his unfamiliar partner unconscious on one of the inflatables, adrift several miles from land, with plenty of supplies. It left him chuckling to think that they'd need to organize their own rescue when they woke. That, and Shinra had lost one of the few aircraft they still had. It wouldn't be much longer before they gave into Air and Space.

When he went back to the bridge, the abducted Shera had collapsed to her knees. Her hands were still pressed desperately to the window, the yellow dot of the inflatable growing smaller through it, and her face was bleak.

"There's really no chance of rescue now, is there?" she said.

From the door, Vincent answered her. "Their goal was not to rescue you, but to shoot the Shera down."

"What?" Her expression turned confused, and Cid belatedly realized how confusing that sentence must have been for her when she didn't know the name of the ship.

His wife realized too. "Shera, it might be hard to believe and I'll do my best to prove it to you, but some of us aboard are from the future. We don't look like it, we seemed to de-age when we went through time, but I'm you, and this ship is named after me. Welcome aboard the airship Shera."

The engineers sat in the galley, talking over tea - probably the same type Tifa'd made for her and Cloud's families. Barret watched for a minute, just in case Shera needed some backup if her past self panicked again. It didn't look like that was gonna be the case, so he went back to the bridge.

"What now? Back to the plan, heading for Wutai?" he asked.

"I'm flying west, ain't I?"

The younger Vincent, cross-legged in a corner, cleaning his rifle, asked, "Since Shinra located Shera, will they not next locate your younger selves?"

Cid rolled his shoulders. "Mine's all tied up with Air and Space. If ya hear Shinra's plannin' to fuckin' arrest or kill him, then we'll get him. Otherwise, I say leave him to his own shit."

Barret didn't feel much concern either. Coal miner Barret Wallace was safely off the radar, years away from his first encounter with the company. "Shinra ain't got no reason to go looking for mine."

Young Vincent held up the gleaming, oil-slick barrel to examine it. "Don't they?"

"Yeah, but how the hell would they find out? Shera's the only one who went and used her maiden name."

"Cloud and Tifa gave the surname Wallace," young Vincent said.

Their Vincent continued, "The tighter the snare, the more desperate Shinra becomes. If they find Barret, they will act decisively. If they target him at the same time as the Highwind's captain, which will you sacrifice?"

They were quiet for a moment. Barret was suddenly rethinking a lot of his easy assumptions.

Cid groaned. "Shit. Means we're getting more passengers."

Barret held out his hand, mind whirring. "Now hold on. He's got his own life going on. We grab him, we could screw stuff up. Shinra might not ever find him."

"You have shown little restraint in grabbing others before." There was a spark of amusement in Vincent's voice.

"Yeah, but they was all in trouble."

"They'll be easier to look after in one spot," Cid said. "And it ain't like we're screwin' 'em over forever. When this shit is all done with, we're dumpin' 'em all back home anyway."

"It's just—" Barret harumphed and crossed his arms. "He's gonna propose to Myrna in a couple months. I don't wanna screw that up." There wasn't a calendar here in the bridge, but he'd had the date hanging like a treasured locket in front of him ever since they came back to this time. A big part of him had hoped they'd get their work done before then, so it could happen without a clouded future shadowing it.

"How about keeping him alive and away from Shinra so he can propose?"

Barret, with his heart clenched up with fear, couldn't find a decent comeback. So he and Vincent ended up walking through Corel in the dead of night, avoiding the scattered pools of yellow light from the infrequent streetlights, brightness that made the darkness worse.

The streets were in bad shape, full of ruts, potholes, and sliding patches of gravel. They'd gotten rougher every year of Barret's life, as people switched to Shinra's mako energy and stopped buying coal. Barret thought he remembered the roads well enough, since every bit of this town was etched into his memories, but that didn't keep him from stepping into a half-dozen potholes. Vincent trailed after him like some sort of ghost. His pointy-ass shoes must've come equipped with radar because he hadn't tripped once.

They made their way past old clapboard houses, all peeling paint and whitewash. This was where he'd grown up. All his friends and family lived down these side streets, hard-working people who died when Shinra bombed Corel. A lump grew in his throat, and his feet longed to turn aside, follow the rutted alleys down to his parent's house, his grandparents'.

"Hey, y'think we -"

He cut himself off. He knew the answer.

Vincent answered anyway. "Later. We have a job to finish first."

After their marriage, he and Myrna had moved into a two-bedroom house, looking forward to kids. But at this point, Barret had lived in a tiny bachelor place, two rooms total, one of several dozen that lined a street leading up to the mines in the hills. There was only one light on, leaking around the bedroom window curtain. His past self must still be up.

Barret remembered the back door of this place being a flimsy piece of crap and yep, one solid kick did it in. He tore open a packet of dream powder and went in quick, Vincent closing the door behind them. His past self came out of the bedroom, mad as hell, wearing only a pair of old sweatpants. Before he could start yelling, Barret threw the dream powder in his face, and he fell to the floor, lights out.

It was a shock to see himself unscarred, with two working arms. His stump crawled suddenly with a thousand phantom biting ants, and he grit his teeth and shook the limb out, feeling the faint mechanical hum of it transfer up through the remaining flesh. "Imma get him a shirt." Not just out of decency.

He stepped toward the bedroom, but heard the sound of a shotgun slide and pulled up short - just in time. A blast of noise and heat ripped past him. Myrna's voice was brusque. "Get the hell out of this house!"

Barret, plastered against a wall now, and wishing the walls in this place were thicker, tried to keep his voice some kind of calm. "Myrna, we ain't here to hurt ya."

"I don't know you. Barret!" she shouted, then again, "Barret?", worried without an answer.

He wasn't sure what to do. The gunshot would draw the neighbors over. Vincent moved past him in a red blur, and there was a startled cry, then silence.

Barret stepped forward. Myrna was knocked out on the floor, braids a loose coil of snakes around her head. She was wearing one of his old shirts. It went down nearly to her knees. He looked at Vincent, feeling a flare of baseless anger at the man for hurting her, even though she could well have taken his head half off with that point-blank blast.

The gunman picked up the shotgun, then waved a hand in the air, casting, and Myrna shrank down to doll size.

"What the hell, man!" Barret hissed. "Why'd ya do that?"

"She's a witness." He cast again, and a sleep spell settled over her.

"Ya can't be thinkin' of takin' her with us? We only came here for -"

"Barret! Y'all okay in there?!" The voice outside rang bells for him. A fellow miner, his next-door neighbor.

Then another neighbor, a little guy who used to get drunk and pick fights - "What was that shot?!"

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "All good!", he shouted, trying to get his voice rougher and deeper and ten years older than the de-aging had made it. "Forgot I still had a round in!"

There's a laugh outside from - Neil, that was the little guy's name. Vincent slipped past Barret like a shadow, and there was a brief sparkle of magic in the main room. Barret picked up Myrna's tiny, unconscious form, holding her cupped in his left hand.

Zeke, his neighbor, still sounded suspicious. "That all?"

Zeke had argued against building the reactor, then was one of the survivors who built North Corel from Corel's wreckage and turned their backs on Barret when he returned. Zeke died broke and drunk in the shantytown, just weeks before Barret came to recruit miners for his oil prospecting. Hearing his voice now dug into Barret like splinters.

"Yeah, jes' a dumb mistake," he called. He pulled open dresser drawers, quietly as he could. A shirt for his past self, then a pair of his work pants for Myrna - he didn't know if they'd fit alright, Myrna being a big gal through the hips, and the canvas trousers didn't have a lot of give to them. There was a hiss from Vincent, trying to get him to get going, but he opened another drawer, looking for sweatpants or something.

"What the hell?" That was Maple's voice, the town's telephone operator - she didn't live close, but she was the nosiest person Barret had ever met. She must've bustled over at once, hearing the gunshot. Her voice came from behind the house, and he realized she must've seen the busted-down back door.

"Shit," he muttered.

"What's up?" Zeke called, and Maple shouted back, "Robbers!"

Jumping-to-conclusions old busybody. He abandoned his search for sweatpants, hearing more and more voices outside, Maple screeching away about thieves and murderers. She abruptly stopped, and he heard the thud of a collapsing body. Vincent was standing by the back door, pressed to the wall to stay out of sight. A green materia in his armband was still glinting with the aftermath of a spell.

"What'd ya do?" Barret whispered.

"Sleep," the gunman answered. They made a break for it then, a hubbub rising behind them with more and more lights flickering on in the houses as they climbed into the hills. The Shera was hovering on the other side of the hills, where its own lights couldn't be seen. They clambered aboard and met Cid waiting at the top of the ladder.

"You got 'em, or what?"

Barret, breathing hard from the run, said nothing. Vincent told the pilot, "It would be best to leave quickly, without lights." Cid gave them both a belligerent, bewildered look, but stomped away to the bridge.

Barret's heart was throwing itself against his ribs like a cannonball. It wasn't just from the run. He kinda wished now they hadn't gone down at all. He didn't want any trouble to come to Corel, and if he was the one who'd brung it, again…

He held his hand out to Vincent, and the gunman passed over the tiny form of Barret's past self in silence and slipped away. Barret headed for the galley, feeling like he'd come down with lockjaw. This was gonna be as bad as talking to Cloud and Tifa's folks for the first time, but worse because he didn't have either of them around for moral support. Marlene was asleep, hopefully, and anyway, he wasn't about to dump her into the middle of this.

The young Shera was sitting at the table, holding a cup of tea and gazing into the middle distance. No steam rose from the mug, which meant she'd been sitting there long enough for the tea to cool down. She startled as Barret stepped in, sloshing tea onto the table. She jumped up.

"Oh! So sorry! Don't worry, I'll clean this right up -" She turned one way, then another, looking lost.

Barret jerked his chin toward the appropriate drawer. "Second one down from the left."

She found the hand towels and mopped up the spill. "I'm sorry, I was just off in my head and didn't hear you."

"Didn't mean to startle you," Barret gruffed, and sat. "You've had a hell of a day."

"That's the truth," she sighed. "Where do I put this?"

"Sink's okay."

She set the wet cloth in the deep metal basin and sat again, turning the half-full mug around and around. "They told me, you know, that most of you are from the future."

"Yep."

"It sounds like a science fiction story. But…" She tugged at her hair, frowning with thought. "I do believe it. I guess, when you meet your future self, it's easy to be convinced."

"Hope so." He kept his answers brusque, but it didn't look like she was gonna take the hint and leave. Definitely didn't look like it - she got up and refreshed her mug from the magnetic kettle.

"Would you like some?"

He breathed deep through his nose. "Sure. Make three." He stood and set the figures of Myrna and his past self on the floor. His Heal materia had Esuna in it, and the restorative spell removed Small and Sleep at once. They rocked for a moment, their arms automatically going out to steady themselves. Barret's past self was still raring to fight, and rushed forward, drawing back his fist.

Barret blocked the punch with his metal hand. His past self's eyes bugged out with pain, "Shit!", but he gamely tried swinging with the other fist. Barret blocked that too.

"Hey, now, settle down."

Myrna was looking around - for her shotgun, he realized.

"Look here," Barret said, "I ain't up for a fight." He held out the clothing - trousers for Myrna, shirt for his past self. "Get dressed, then sit your asses down so I can tell ya what's goin' on." They took the items, looking like they suspected him of booby-trapping them. He sat, making a show of turning away from them.

The young Shera was watching, her eyes wide behind partly-steamed up glasses. "Should I leave?"

"Do what ya want," he said.

"What the HELL is goin' on?" his past self shouted, taking a furious step forward. He waved the shirt angrily, but Myrna set a hand on his arm.

"Y'all had best explain yourselves. I've seen your wanted poster - you been making trouble for the Shinra, and I saw on the news y'all kidnapped a gal from Junon."

"Ah, that would be me." Young Shera raised her hand.

Myrna looked startled, then tensed again. "And now you're just sittin' round havin' tea?"

"I got a tour of the airship earlier," she offered.

"Airship? That where we are?" Barret's past self spun around, taking in the metal walls of the galley. He didn't look best pleased by this news.

"Yeah, welcome aboard the Shera. Named after her older self." Barret jerked a thumb at young Shera, who shrugged.

"Older self?! What in the hell're you on about?"

Barret folded his arms. "I dunno how it was done or why, but a bunch of us from the future ended up in the past. Except we ain't the ages we're supposed to be no more. An' 'cause of that, I know you. I know ya both."

His past self went grey around the gills. "We - we ain't your parents, are we?"

Barret snorted. Not the worst guess, but… "Hell no! I'm you!"

It took hours of explaining that left Barret dead tired. It was hard to talk about Corel's destruction, especially with the real town only hours old in his head, so he just gave them the basics. Myrna didn't ask about her death, only that the situation now was different. "Yeah," he said. "A whole lot. We're gonna make it more different before we're done."

Myrna left with young Shera to find future Shera and see about getting some better clothes. The researcher had only the outfit she'd been scooped up in, and as Barret had suspected, the canvas work trousers didn't fit Myrna that well.

That left him alone with his past self. Looking him in the eyes was like looking in some warped funhouse mirror. It left his skin crawling, and he scratched again at his stump. Now he regretted giving Cid so much guff out on the airfield. Cid had wanted to fight himself. Barret mainly wanted to apologize and offer advice, but also box his own ears.

The man stared back, looking about as weirded out as Barret felt. Then he leaned in a little and asked in a confidential whisper, "Does Myrna say yes?"

He meant, when he proposed. Barret's fingers drummed against his metal arm. "Find out for yourself. Ya can't use my life as a shortcut. We've changed a helluva lot. Find your own way."

He stood and left. That was as much as he could handle for one night. He'd told them about adopting Marlene, that she had a boy like a brother to her named Denzel, and that he raised them with a couple named Cloud and Tifa, and that all four of them had come to the past, too. He hadn't gone into more detail than that and hoped the Nibel families wouldn't bring it up. He kinda felt guilty about it, but it was damn hard to say it with Myrna and his past self across the table. He didn't want his choices influencing them. And, more, the age-gap that hadn't mattered when they were all grown-ass adults who'd worked and fought alongside each other for years, felt fucking awkward when his past self was sitting there, all twenty-four years, six-foot-six, two hundred pounds of him, while a pair of damn nine-year-olds slept somewhere on the ship.

He was only half-asleep when the com went off. "AVALANCHE, you're needed on the bridge."

Letting out a low string of mumbled curses, he got back into his clothes - still a little warm from when he'd taken them off. He continued cursing through the metal corridors, all the way to the bridge.

"This better be good as hell, Cid," he said, trudging onto the deck.

The pilot wrinkled his nose. "It's interestin'. Why are the rest of you numbskulls up? Y'all should be asleep."

Behind him, the sleepy passengers of the airship were shuffling into the room. His past self and Myrna were looking around wide-eyed, and teenage Shera looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but everybody else looked like they'd been woken from a sound sleep.

"I demand to know what is going on that you felt it necessary to broadcast across the airship in the small hours, waking everyone up." Brian yawned in the middle of the order, so it fell kind of flat.

"Ain't none of your business. Y'all get back to bed. Vincent, what'd you make of this?" He flipped the switch for the radio.

Static popped and a tinny transmission came on. "Please respond." Silence, then the transmission started again. "Hailing AVALANCHE in the non-Shinra airship, this is the anti-Shinra group Death God, please respond."

"Who the fuck is that?" Barret rumbled. "And how'd they know who we are?"

"Can't answer the second, but it's short-range. I'm thinking it's from that dot of a ship over there." Cid pointed out of the observation windows to a speck of light floating in the dark ocean. Belatedly, Barret realized the Shera was hovering, unmoving.

"The bombing mission in Kalm that Cloud interfered in was to take out a Death God informant. They are also responsible for Rufus's death," Vincent said.

Cid nodded. "If this group did the prick in, Shinra doesn't like them. Do we like them?"

Vincent crossed his arms, gold talons tapping at his sleeve. "The details around Rufus's death are vague. An outright attack from this group is uncharacteristic. Likely, other factors were in play. They mainly deal in stealing Shinra weapons and selling them to Wutai."

"So, Yuffie likes them." Cid rubbed at the peach fuzz on his chin, staring out at the dark sea and the single light in it, then grunted, "Alright. Barret, call up the pipsqueak and see if she can explain how they know our ruttin' name. I'll open negotiations with these yahoos."

"It could be a trap," said the past Vincent.

Cid nodded and picked up the speaker. "Awright, stop yellin' in our ear. What the hell d'ya want?"

There was nothing but static. Barret moved to the far side of the bridge and dialed Yuffie.

The radio crackled. "To team up," said a man's voice.

"Why the hell would we want to do that?"

"We both fight against Shinra."

"No, you sell weapons out from under them. We run circles around 'em."

Yuffie picked up at this point. "This better be good, 'cause I'm kinda busy right now."

"We got someone calling us AVALANCHE. Any of you spill?"

Behind him, the radio continued, "We could be mutually beneficial to each other."

"Don't need money," Cid answered.

"Uh…," said Yuffie. "Yeah, to a Turk and some SOLDIERs."

Barret turned to Cid, waving his hand in a chopping motion across his neck.

"Then tell us what you do need. Let us see if we can supply it."

Cid scowled. "Look, I don't know you, and I don't trust you. You could be one of those shit-sucking Turks. I ain't gonna go tellin' you my plans or my needs. If you are who you say you are, then you have Wutai connections who can vouch for you. Get one of them to open up a spot for us to set down in, in some part of the country Shinra ain't fucked over yet, and we'll talk. "

"We can do that. Give us a few minutes, and we'll get something set up."

"I ain't waiting for ya. When you're ready, have them contact me."

After that, he upped the power to the engines, going from an idle to forward motion and they slipped away towards the island nation.

"Need anything else?" Yuffie asked.

"Nah. How are y'all?"

"It's been interesting. Don't know if you've heard, but Reeve is headed for Midgar, we stopped by the materia cave on Mideel, and Shinra found out about Cait Sith and our projects with that Reeve, so we're headed for Midgar too. See you later."

"Hey! Wait!" It was too late. She'd already hung up, and he was left staring at his PHS in dismay.

"So, what's goin' on with them?" Cid asked.

"Lot more than I'd like," he said, pocketing the device.

"Denzel okay?" Marlene asked sleepily, walking over to him and leaning into his side. Her little eyes were all puffy. He didn't think she'd even seen his younger self and Myrna. But they sure had seen her. He patted her head and turned back to Cid.

"They're headed for Midgar. Reeve, the younger one, got himself into a hell of a jam. Shinra found out about him."

"Damn. What'd she say about this group?"

"Didn't ask, but they let our name slip to Shinra."

"Crap. So any spot this ruttin' group tells us to head for could be a damn Shinra gun encampment, primed to blow us into so much blasted junkyard scrap. Perfect, just fuckin' perfect."

Shera left her past self and came over to stand by her husband, patting his back. "What do we do now?"

"Stick to the damn plan, that's what! Materia cave, that's next!"

"We on course?"

"For 'bout an hour, then I gotta check our headings again."

Shera gently slid her hands under his and took over the wheel. "Then you go sit for a bit, and I'll take over."

Divider,line

The materia cave here was a lot easier to find than the one near Corel. At the base of the northern peninsula's tallest snow-capped mountain, Beitai, along the river Qingshui, a cascade of four waterfalls marked the cave's location. By the time they got there, Barret still hadn't managed to get any sleep, having spent the two hours tossing and turning.

Cid was waiting down in the bay. "Ya look like shit," he greeted.

Barret said, looking at the pilot's peach fuzz and baggy eyes, "You sure as hell ain't no morning flower, yourself."

Cid yawned abruptly and lifted a tired finger. "Just get the damn materia."

The hatch opened. There was a rushing pitter-patter of feet behind them. The three kids were running down the catwalk, in a hurry to see whatever cool new thing waited below.

Cid spoke before any of them could. "Nope, we ain't got time for sightseeing. All y'all ankle biters are staying on board."

Marlene looked pleadingly at Barret, who shook his head. She pouted but turned to back up. Spike and Bruiser, however, immediately tried to argue. Barret made a quick escape down the rope ladder, leaving the kids, stubborn as soon as they woke up, to Cid.

The dawn air had a bite to it. At a guess, he'd say snow would be on this part of the mountain in a few weeks. At least he didn't have to trudge far through the forest to find the cave entrance, a dark mouth along the slope. Inside, its walls were aglow with yellow light that faded once he picked up the Mime materia.

His mind wasn't on the task as returned to the ship, still turning over all his worries, which was why he walked right into a patch of razor weed. The small, plant-like monsters shrieked hysterically, sounding like a bunch of sugar-high kids handed out-of-tune recorders.

He took a hasty step back from the noise, clamping his good hand over his left ear, and fired directly into the screaming patch. "Who makes the most noise now, ya damn weeds!"

The ones that weren't dead, scattered. One scurried right by him, its knife-edged leaves slicing through his pant leg into his calf, though the wound was light. "Hey now!" He turned to shoot after it, and instead noticed the spikes of a boundfat creeping towards him. "You want a go too, huh?"

It was much larger than the ones he was used to seeing in Corel. It rushed him when it saw its cover was blown, powerful hind legs propelling it forwards in a large bound. He braced as it collided into him. He rocked at the force of the impact but didn't fall.

It tried to bite at his side, but he bludgeoned its round head hard with his gun. Its eyes bugged out, and it fell back croaking and hissing. It sprang back and forth, aggressive, then barfed up flames.

Stumbling back, he patted out scorch marks on his pants. "That's disgustin'.'" Since when did boundfats spit fire? The ones back home always spat ice. He fired a round or two at it. The thing's flabby body rippled with the impacts before dropping to the ground. He snorted and turned away from its dissolving corpse. Back where the razor weed had been, he saw something glittering in the drift of decaying forest leaves. A high-potion.

He stooped to pick it up, and a winged shadow crossed over him. "For fuck's sake." Today just wasn't a good day.

He turned around fast, firing up into the trees, leaves and twigs raining down around him. "Suck on this, you feather duster!"

The thunderbird didn't even have a chance.

He climbed back aboard. Cid was on the bridge, seated at the radio console with maps spread around him. Vincent, future version, sat cross-legged next to him, also studying a map. Shera was at the wheel, Brian and Claudia were standing at opposite ends of the windows, and the kids were lying on the floor, heels in the air, playing with jacks.

Cid looked up as Barret came in. "How'd ya manage to come back looking twice as hellish as ya did earlier?"

Barret threw the high potion at him.

Cid caught it, then gestured to the maps. "Some Wutai muckety-muck rang, gave us a meeting place. We're looking to see if it's safe."

"D'ya trust 'em?"

"The area is held by Wutai, and has repelled three Shinra invasions previously," Vincent said from behind his map.

"It could be those bloodsuckers are trying to get Wutai to shoot us down. Wutai soldiers would've seen us helping out Darill and the Falcon that time."

Brian Lockhart said suddenly, frowning, "It's amazing you ever get anything done. You're talking yourselves in circles."

"No bloody comments from the ass-ignorant peanut gallery!" Cid half-shouted.

Brian bristled, but instead of exploding to match Cid, he took a steadying breath. "What I'm saying is, why would Shinra set something up that could backfire so badly? They don't control the territory, and it might end with you allying with Wutai, whether the invitation is a trap or not. Also, as a matter of logistics, our three new arrivals could use extra clothes, not to mention we need more food, soon. As we are wanted the rest of the world over, Wutai seems like the only place to do some shopping."

Barret stared at the man in astonishment. So did everybody.

"I've been town mayor for sixteen years. I didn't get re-elected by ignoring problems," Brian huffed.

Behind him, Claudia rolled her eyes. "At least not the problems of those who vote for you."

Brian snapped, "You can't make everyone happy, so you have to pick for the greater good."

"Greater good, my ass."

It looked like the beginning of a fight, so Barret stepped between them, while Cid griped "Keep yer damn provincial politics to yerselves." He handed a notepad to Vincent. "Double check those coordinates, see if it's safe. If we need to, we'll send you and other you down to check it out."

He turned to the rest of them. "He's not wrong. We need supplies, and not just for people. The Shera took a beating in Junon. We could use a safe port for repairs."

They followed the Qingshui river down toward the ocean, to a small fortified city that served as Wutai's northernmost sea base. The airship stayed high in the coastal hills, obscured by fog, while Vincent and his past self slipped into the city. The other had never been here, and his single visit happened many years in the future.

As a location to meet, it could go either way. If it was a trap by Shinra, it wasn't the best choice they could have made, nor the worst. The city would certainly have the firepower to shoot them down, but it had the same concern as Junon, a lot of uncontrolled airspace for the Shera to flee into.

On the other hand, if this was a legitimate meeting of potential allies, it was a good position for Wutai. It kept the airship away from the interior, and if the Shera were a Shinra airship, the city had the defenses to drive it off. As for Death God, the group mainly operated on and near the sea, and were allies of Wutai. They were likely familiar with the location.

The two slipped through the autumn woods around the city. They had not been given a clear meeting place, only to land along the beach. It was a risk they wouldn't take, so Vincent intended to gather information. Death God was a smuggler welcome in this port. The ship that had hailed them would likely be at the docks.

Wrapped in their cloaks, they flitted out of the trees and along the barbed-wire-strewn beach. They stopped in the shadows of wooden houses belonging to fishing families or near gun encampments made of cement and sandbags, to take stock of their surroundings.

It was at one of these encampments that they overheard soldiers speaking about the airship. Vincent's conversational Wutaian was rusty, but he understood enough to follow the conversation.

A young man's voice first, with a refined accent. "{I still believe it is a Shinra trap. The general is a fool. They will have those blue-eyed demons on board and they will try to destroy the city.}"

"{Watch your words. It's not our place to question orders.}" An older man, with a smoker's guttural growl.

"{If they are with the Shinra I will shoot, ill orders be cursed,}" the young man answered.

"{I've heard about them troubling the Shinra. I think they're good for Wutai. }" A young woman whose voice had a dockworker's burr.

The young man laughed disdainfully. "{A wasp can not bring down an adamantaimai.}"

"{But a large enough thorn in its foot can,}" mused the older man.

"{Yeah,}" the young woman said. "{Let them fight the Shinra while we reap the benefits.}"

"{But what benefit do they wish to reap from us?}"

Vincent exchanged a look with his counterpart and they slunk away, continuing towards the dock. That was only the first of many conversations they heard about themselves. It seemed word of their impending arrival had spread through the city like fire. The citizens walking along the winding streets glanced skyward in the middle of their business, and children sat on the tile roofs as lookouts, eating dried persimmons and shouting at passing seagulls.

This was no Shinra trap, but they stayed cautious, flitting from shadow to shadow. Dogs barked at their passage, but by the time someone looked for the cause, they were gone. Fortunately, they did not need to go all the way to the docks to find the smuggler. In a wealthier district full of small mansions and pagodas, Vincent spotted a cluster of ornately dressed military officials speaking with a group whose dull, practical clothing looked straight from Junon.

Signaling to the other, he faded into the garden shadows, among the large shrubs and bamboos. He crept forward until he was close enough to listen but unlikely to be seen. The garden party sat on embroidered cushions and ate from small tables covered with plates of dim sum and pots of tea. The conversation was of the war: of an effective push to free two Southern towns from Shinra's control, and the blood-stained swathe Sephiroth left in his wake.

"{Our ninjas report this 'AVALANCHE' has members capable of defeating Shinra's demons,}" said one of the military figures, an older man. His hair was light grey, but his long beard had gone completely white.

"{They also report, they have not killed any of Shinra's demons, despite having ample chance to do so,}" said another, stolid, with a squint.

One of the Junon men, with orange hair and sideburns, answered. "{But they have killed. Sources tell me the same group responsible for the Air Division strike are the ones who killed Scarlet.}"

The stolid man scowled. "{Only cowards kill those not trained to fight.}"

"{But the wise cut off the serpents head, not its tail,}" said a scarred woman whose armor was ornately gilded. "{Whether or not she fought, that woman was a death-monger, and Wutai is safer for her passing.}"

"{I would be more inclined to trust them if they broke the serpent's fangs,}" the stolid man said. "{There are no dead warriors. It is nonsensical}".

A younger man spoke. Compared to the other Wutaians, his dark green, unadorned clothing made him look like a pebble dropped among gems. "{We can not know their reasons till we speak with them. Lord Soff? Have you had word of their intended arrival?}"

"{Not yet. The crew I left on board is supposed to call when they receive it,}" said the orange-haired man.

"{Poor manners to show their hosts,}" the scarred woman said, frowning.

Another of the Junon-looking crew spoke, a man of mixed Wutaian heritage, glanced at the orange-haired man. "{They were wary when we spoke with them.}"

"{As are we all, with the threat of Shinra's spies,}" said the man in green.

Vincent had heard enough. He slipped out of the garden and over several thick red walls until he found a secluded spot behind another estate's storehouse to call the Shera. "They're truthful about their desire to meet with us. There is a large house with a green roof eight blocks north of the docks, on a small rise overlooking military barracks and the ocean. They are waiting for us there."

"Well, you go introduce yourself, and if they don't shoot at you, we'll stop by," Cid said.

He closed his PHS and glanced at his counterpart crouched beside him. "If you wish to remain hidden, you may do so."

He made his way back to the ornate house. Politics, manners, and customs held little interest for him. He made no effort to introduce himself formally at the door, instead silently dropping back into the garden. Its inhabitants were as he left them, sitting on cushions and drinking tea. Their discussion had moved on, to what they hoped to get from AVALANCHE.

Access to the airship. Plans for designing their own. Weaponry. Materia. Information about SOLDIER, and the combatants who could fight them. In return, they discussed offering money, safe haven, and their own warriors.

Vincent left his hiding spot. "{Safe haven, mechanical repairs, and access to your shops are our requests.}"

The guards stationed around the garden leapt toward him, leveling crescent-shaped pole-arms at him. One, who Vincent had not seen, popped out from a large ornamental pot. On the other hand, the ninja had not seen him either.

Those seated also rose quickly. The orange-haired man produced an explosive device from his pocket, and raised it, ready to throw. The only one not to stand was the man in green. With an approving smile and amused gleam in his eyes, he spoke.

"{I saw your companion enter the garden, but not you. You are both well skilled. Please, come join us.}" He turned towards an attendant. "{Bring more seats and tea for our guests.}"

The attendant remained frozen. The guards did not lower their pole-arms, though some turned, startled, as his past self came forward.

One of the smugglers asked, "{How do you know they are AVALANCHE?}" her dark eyes suspicious as she pointed her pistol at him.

The man in green responded, "{They were in Junon two days ago. We all received the reports, did we not? Two men in red, who moved like water over rocks.}" He nodded respectfully at Vincent. "{Few have such skill.}"

"{Go,}" the scarred woman told the attendant. "{Do not keep the guests standing.}"

The cushions arrived and they all took their seats. Tea was poured, the steam smelling of jasmine. Vincent exchanged a glance with his past self. Too delicate a flavor to hide a poison or a sedative, so he accepted the cup.

Plates of dim sum passed before them. Some Vincent recognized from his training or Wutaian take-out stores, but other dishes were unfamiliar or too nondescript to identify. Without asking, the attendants filled his plate with shrimp dumplings, steamed garlic squid, water chestnut cake, and lotus seed buns. He decided to risk eating, on the grounds that he was, somehow, in a diplomatic role, and that his enhanced system could probably beat out any drugs in the food.

As they ate, introductions were made; the old man was Lord Sazama, minister of the district, and it was he who had arranged the meeting location. Lady Onishi was the general of the Northern troops, and Lord Hirose was captain of the gunboat stationed here. The man in green was simply introduced as Hirinaka. Vincent thought him likely to be a spymaster.

The orange-haired smuggler introduced himself as Death God, before laughing. "{Or at least I am to Shinra. To allies, I'm Erin Soff. And these,}" he gestured to his companions, "{are two of my crew, Lycia and Arn.}"

The silence stretched and they all stared at the two of him expectantly. "Vincent," he said.

Another quiet stretch. Lord Sazama prompted, "{And your name?}"

"{Also Vincent.}"

Lord Hirose harrumphed. "{You expect us to ally with you when you will not even tell us your true names?}"

"{It's your own decision to believe us or not.}"

The others looked put out or upset at his answer, but Hirinaka watched mildly over his teacup. After a moment, he set it down. "Vincent, to conquer. An interesting name for these times." He spoke fluently, with a Midgar accent. "I sense an odd darkness in each of you, not too far different from the transformation abilities of our master ninja. Tell me, have you ever trained in Wutai?"

"No," his past self said. Vincent shook his head.

"Humm. Would you use this ability to fight for Wutai?"

"I use what abilities I have to fight Shinra." His past self nodded in agreement.

"'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' is a saying from your part of the world. I suppose it is enough for now." He lifted his cup for an attendant to pour him more tea.

The others seemed to take this as a cue to relax again. Lord Sazama cleared his throat "{Your requests were safe haven, something we can easily provide, and access to our shops. While you are here, you are free to move around any of our civilian areas. As for repairs… what is it that you need?}"

"{Our airship took damage in Junon.}"

He nodded his graying head. "{I see. You would not be against our mechanics and craftsmen helping with repairs?}"

"{I am not the airship's owner or engineer. You'll have to speak with them.}"

Lady Onishi narrowed her eyes. "{And what aid can you offer us?}"

He set his tea down. They'd talked about this on board the Shera and, with Yuffie's blessing, it was something they could give. "{Our goal is not to destroy the company but to change it.}"

Their faces changed to astonishment and anger. Vincent continued, "{Its corruption and monopoly are out of control, but without Shinra's infrastructure, cities and towns on the eastern continents will collapse. We have been working on weeding out the corruption in its power structure, and to shift it away from mako energy.

There are two particular roadblocks in that endeavor we hope to remove soon. What we can offer you comes at a cost - that you respect what we are trying to achieve.}"

The reactions were mixed. The two from the military held themselves with suspicion and anger. Death God and Lord Sazama seemed displeased but thoughtful, the minister stroking his beard. Hirinaka was blank.

He did not continue right away. They must agree to consider the price.

After a stretch, Lord Sazama waved his hand. "{Shinra's downfall has never been our interest, only peace, and reparations for the violence they have brought against us. You wish for understanding. The East is your home and you wish to keep it from destruction, just as we wish to keep ours safe. This is something all here understand.}"

Close enough. "{AVALANCHE is trying to keep deaths to a minimum. We can provide you with status effect materia, allowing you to abduct Shinra personnel en masse. The current president will not care, but once he has been removed, you will have a sizable bargaining chip. Releasing the prisoners in exchange for peace. Agree to this tactic, and I can provide you with Shinra's troop movements, locations, and supply schedule.}"

Lord Hirose scoffed, but Lady Onishi studied him. "{If we do agree to this, how are you sure it will work? From assassination attempts to a peace treaty,}" she pressed.

"{It will not be easy. However, AVALANCHE is not something Shinra has experience dealing with. We are an enigma to them, but the reverse is not true. We know we can fight them and win.}"