Young Aerith's first thought was that the trooper had been sent by Shinra to take her back. She cried out for help, but Elmyra kept washing like she hadn't heard.

The trooper looked toward Aerith. He pulled off his helmet, revealing a face she'd until then only known from photographs.

"Clay... ?" she ventured.

His hair was caked with mud. In fact, his whole upper body was streaked with dirt and dust, as if he really had been wandering the slums for days.

She tried speaking to him again. "Welcome home, Clay."

But Clay's eyes seemed to see right through her. He glanced about the room, as if unsure where to go next or what to do. Elmyra continued to wash dishes at the sink, oblivious, which was perhaps the most disconcerting part of all.

It's your husband! Aerith wanted to shout. Your beloved Clay!

"Mom!" was the word she finally managed to get out, but again, Elmyra failed to respond.

"Clay!" Aerith tried again, and the man squeezed his eyes shut, then brought them open wide, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing and expected it to vanish at any moment. He repeated the motion: eyes shut, then eyes open. He did it again, and again, and again. What was he seeing? What were his eyes telling him? Finally, Clay lifted the back of one hand to rub at his brow. He sighed deeply and crouched down in place.

Aerith wanted to go to him, but her own legs wouldn't budge.

"Clay!" she shouted again.

Still nothing. Clay's knees hit the floor, and then he was lowering himself down on his side, heavy against the wood, as if all the strength had bled from his body. His lips moved, and despite the distance, Aerith thought she heard a faint whisper. She focused as hard as she could, desperate to catch the words.

Elmyra... I'm sorry...

"Clay! No!" Aerith screamed, and, turning to Elmyra, "Mom! Over here! Can't you hear him?!"

That was when Aerith's own eyes flicked wide open. She lay in her bed, yet she knew what she'd seen was not a dream. Clay had perished, and in his moment of death, he stood on that precipice where his soul joined the planet, and was given the chance to glimpse the one place in the world he wished to be most. Though Elmyra had failed to see Clay, he had undoubtedly seen her.

Aerith slipped out of bed─for real this time─and descended the stairs. Elmyra stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing hard with her sponge. This time, no unsettling stink of grass flooded the room.

"Mommy... ?"

She hesitated, unsure how to deliver the news.

"Mommy, don't be sad."

Elmyra turned from the sink, her expression a mix of concern and confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"A man you really, really love just died. His heart came a long way to say goodbye. But he couldn't stay 'cause he had to return to the planet."

At first, Elmyra didn't say anything. She only stared.

"Clay? You're telling me Clay is dead?"

"Yeah, but you don't have to worry. He was able to rejoin the planet safely. At least, I'm pretty sure he did."

"Aerith, go back to bed."

Aerith immediately sensed the anger that had crept into Elmyra's voice. Her heart constricted.

"But, Mommy─"

"Last warning. Drop the games and get back in bed."

"He returned to the planet! He'll be connected with you always. So there's no reason to─"

Elmyra lunged forward, grabbed Aerith under one arm, and proceeded to storm up the staircase. When they reached the bedroom, she dropped Aerith unceremoniously onto the covers, stormed back out without a word, and slammed the door behind her.

The woman's anger lingered in the room, palpable. Aerith threw the duvet over her head and sobbed. But she wasn't crying because she'd made Elmyra angry; she was thinking of all the days her mom had waited faithfully at the station. In the end, she'd never had her chance to see Clay one last time.

Aerith wasn't sure how much time passed when she again felt Ifalna's presence at her side. It was strong and warm; she didn't need to lift the covers to know her mother was there.

"Mommy..." she whimpered.

When Aerith did decide to poke her head out, Ifalna was smiling gently. But there was something different about her this time. Aerith realized she could see through her figure, all the way to the far side of the room. It struck her as curious at first, until the horrible understanding crept in. She'd noticed the same thing happening to Clay when his knees hit the floor. As the time the planet allowed him came to an end, he'd begun to fade from view.

Now the same thing was happening to Ifalna.

"Mommy!" Aerith cried.

She scrambled upright, but already her mother's features were striped with the dark beams and whitewashed paneling of the wall. Ifalna's lips moved as if to speak but generated no sound. Aerith thrust a hand out, only for her fingers to pass through empty air and upset her balance, sending her tumbling from bed. Wincing from the pain, Aerith pulled herself back up, yelling for her mother. Ifalna was all but gone, lips still moving, sound still absent.

Then she was gone, and Aerith was alone.

The following day was a quiet one. Aerith woke to find Elmyra away. A simple breakfast and message sat waiting on the table.

Out for the day, Elmyra had written. Won't be back till evening. Not expecting any guests.

Aerith ate in silence and returned to her room. She sat at her desk and pulled open its drawer, where lay the small pouch left to her by Ifalna. She shook free the white materia inside, grasping it in her palm, feeling it ease her troubled heart as it always did. That, at least, had not changed.

Come evening, Aerith heard the faint sound of the latch in the entryway, followed by footsteps and the scraping of a kitchen chair across the floor. She gently opened her own door and crept down the stairs.

Elmyra was seated at the dining table in her usual spot facing the kitchen, yet her head was buried in her arms, and she was weeping softly.

The woman must have sensed Aerith on the stairs, for she lifted her face and turned, revealing puffy red eyes and tearstained cheeks.

"There was a letter," she said. "From Shinra... His helicopter, they say it crashed in a heavy forest. They say... They say they didn't find his body until it was too late. He wasn't anywhere near the crash site. He must've tried to walk out, but... Why? Where was he going? Why couldn't he have stayed where he was? Why did he always have to be so─"

A fresh string of sobs drowned her words.

Aerith carefully cleared her throat and ventured, "He really wanted to see you one last time. That's why he started walking. He was trying to get to you."

"And now you're gonna tell me he's returned to the planet. Please, Aerith... Enough. I can't listen to any more."

"But it's the tr─"

"Why would he go back to the planet?! This is his home! If he was going to return anywhere, he'd return here! And the reason he hasn't is because he's dead! You can tell all the pretty stories you like, but it doesn't change the fact that my husband is─"

Her words gave way to the wails of a young, helpless child. Aerith couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a grown-up cry. Maybe never. She felt as though a giant iron hand was squeezing the air from her chest.

"He did, though! He did go back to the planet!" she protested. "The planet connects us all, and that makes it okay, because it means we'll always be together!"

"Stop, Aerith. Just stop."

"But last night, my other mom faded away too, and... and... They have to have gone back to the planet! They just have to!"

After the moment had passed, Elmyra and Aerith clung to each other. For several days, they could manage little else. Still, the warmth of the mother and daughter's budding relationship was a salve that eased their loneliness.

When Butch got word of Clay's death, he was quick to realize Elmyra would need support. He stopped by to check in on the Gainsborough residence and arranged for other members of the family business to take turns doing the same. Elmyra had lost all drive to stay on top of meals and chores, so Rodin arranged to have money pooled for groceries, which the men brought by daily.

Meguro sent his condolences, unable to visit himself due to a flare-up of his own ongoing health issues. In his stead, he explained, he'd be sending Carlo to look after the household and all its needs.

The news piqued Aerith's curiosity, helping to distract from her sorrow. She recalled how heatedly Elmyra and Meguro had discussed the man and his aspirations.

When Carlo arrived, he was not at all what she expected. The young man was tall and wiry, with slicked-back hair and a restless manner. He always seemed to be fidgeting.

Given his reputation, she was frightened of him at first. But to Aerith, at least, he was exceptionally kind, and to her great surprise, he went about the chores with no trace of indignation. If anything, he seemed determined to help.

Though it was obvious Elmyra still didn't care for him, she tolerated his coming and going, ignoring him as best she could. To Aerith, it seemed to indicate just how deeply depressed the woman had become.

The new routine had persisted about a week, when one day, as Elmyra and Aerith each sat alone in their rooms, there came a great crash from the kitchen. They hurried to their doors, looked at each other, and rushed downstairs to see what had happened.

Porcelain fragments littered the floor of the kitchen, spilling out into the front room in a number too great to count. Amid the chaos stood Carlo, his head hung in shame.

"Were they expensive?" he asked.

"Honestly, I couldn't say. Gabriel gave them to us when Clay and I first moved in together."

"Damn. If they came from Gabriel, they sure as hell weren't cheap. Probably the best china money can buy... Aw, geez. I'm sorry, Elmyra. I really am. I got it in my head that the cabinets could use a good cleaning, and... I guess I just can't stand seein' things dusty."

Carlo stared up with obvious remorse. Elmyra's eyes continued to hold on the countless fragments scattered across the floor.

After an awkward moment, Carlo seemed to give up any hope of forgiveness. He stooped down, gingerly picking up the pieces one by one.

When Elmyra finally spoke, it was to say, "Carlo... go home."

"Please!" he begged. "Just gimme one more chance!"

"A few broken plates aren't the end of the world. What I can't stand is seeing you pick those pieces up with your bare hands. I'm not about to let you slice your fingers open. So get on home. I'll take care of the mess. And don't worry. I'll make sure Meguro hears how good you've been to me. 'Cause it's true. You've been a big help."

The color returned to Carlo's face so quickly, he almost seemed to glow.

Elmyra snorted. "And in the meantime, you should learn to hide your feelings better. You won't get anywhere in this business if people can read you like an open book."

"Right."

Carlo slapped his cheeks and hardened his expression.

"Okay. I'll leave ya alone," he agreed. "But if you need anything, you call me, hear? And, uh... sorry about the other day. The thing with your eye."

"Don't know what you're talking about. I took a tumble and scraped myself up."

"No." Carlo shook his head firmly. "I shouldn'ta hit you. It wasn't right. Not to you or to Clay."

His voice had begun to tremble slightly, and Aerith had to do a double take. The man was crying!

"Clay was a good guy," continued Carlo. "Covered for me every time I screwed up. Set me straight. Put me on Gabriel's radar. I still can't believe that he's gone..."

"Get ahold of yourself," snapped Elmyra. And just then, as if the interaction with Carlo had flipped a switch in her mind, the despondent, mourning woman of the past few days was gone. Elmyra was back to her old, assertive self.

"Honestly, a grown man carrying on like that..." she groused. "It's embarrassing."

Carlo rubbed at his eyes with a forearm, grinned, and quipped, "Look who's talkin'."

He made for the door, still sniffling slightly as he waved a casual farewell.

When Carlo was gone, Elmyra turned in a slow circle, evaluating the state of the house.

"Pretty good work for a bunch of knuckleheads," she admitted. "But it's not quite up to my standards. I'm thinking we could do with a good spring cleaning. You feeling up to it, Aer─erm, I mean, Ronna?"

"Yeah!"

The world, and Aerith's mood, was suddenly feeling a whole lot brighter.

"She wasn't kidding about the cleaning," Aerith told Tifa with a giggle. "It was a full-on marathon. First we swept up all the broken china, and then we opened all the windows in the house to let in fresh air. Mom had a broom, and I had a feather duster, and we were whisking all the dust out of the house, along with all the tears we'd shed."

She flicked a hand back and forth, pretending to dust the surrounding crates of cargo.

"Mom loves to clean. She's got a whole collection of different brooms and mops. You'd probably burst out laughing if you saw it.

"She picked out one of those brooms and sawed off half its handle to make it just the right size for me. From that day on, that was my broom.

"The next day, we were armed with rags, wiping every window and wall and panel on the floor until the whole house shone. And then we moved on to redecorating! Elmyra said we could get new curtains for my room, and a bedcover too. It was the first shopping trip I'd ever been on in my life, and the first time Elmyra and I walked around the slums together. We were officially mother and daughter."

It was that very shopping trip that gave Aerith her first proper glimpse of the orphanage down the alley from home. The Sector 5 House, as it was called, turned out to be a lively place. Elmyra and Aerith were walking by when several children close to Aerith's age came running up the alley.

The moment they saw Aerith, they stopped dead in their tracks.

"You're Ronna!" one exclaimed.

At the declaration, the others began to chatter excitedly.

"No way. That's Ronna?"

"Is she an orphan?"

"She's adopted. Lives in her own house and everything. I wish I lived in a house."

"Hey, Ronna! Come live at the orphanage!"

"She's super cute."

"Why won't she say anything? Does she think she's too good for us?"

The rapid-fire comments and the children's unreserved nature had left Aerith too bewildered for words. She sought protection behind Elmyra's legs, peeking out as the children continued to shout.

Strangest of all was the way they addressed her as "Ronna" with such confidence. It felt as though she were being bombarded with the name, and she realized that she hadn't heard it for days now at home, ever since Carlo was sent away. The fact that she even had another name had begun to fade from her mind.

She was so disconcerted, she didn't notice when another child scurried up from the side to where Aerith cowered behind Elmyra. The little girl reached out to touch her braid, and Aerith yelped when the fingers brushed against her hair.

"Ayumu! Stop!" yelled one boy, clearly panicked. He seemed to be the oldest in the group. "You shouldn't tease Ronna! Don't you know what could happen? They'll come and get you!"

"I wasn't teasing her!" protested the young girl, who continued to pluck gently at Aerith's braid.

"She's telling the truth!" cried Aerith. "I was just... surprised. That's all. She didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh... Okay," said the older boy, though he still appeared uneasy.

"Hang on, Jean," Elmyra cut in. "I wanna hear more about this business of not teasing Ronna. Who exactly is going to come and get you?"

"It's what Carlo told us," the boy─Jean─whined back.

Elmyra knit her brows at that.

"Carlo told you about Ronna, did he?"

"He said if we ever make the girl living in the Gainsborough house cry, he'll find out and he'll make sure we cry twice as hard."

A long sigh escaped Elmyra's lips.

"Well, Ronna?" she said. "Don't just stand there. Where are your manners? The children living at the Sector 5 House are our neighbors."

Aerith gathered her courage and announced, "Nice to meet you. I'm Ronna. I hope we can be friends."

"Hi, Ronna!" exclaimed several of the children in unison.

And then they were all piling their own introductions on top of one another:

"I'm Sara!"

"My name's Zoey!"

"I'm Gerad."

Near the tail end of the clamor, a girl announced, "I'm Yoko!"

She pointed to the younger girl who had been so enamored with Aerith's hair. "And that's Ayumu. We're sisters."

The last to give his name was the older boy.

"The name's Jean," he said with the confident air and easy smile of a natural leader. "Anytime you wanna play, you're welcome to join us."

"Thank you," replied Aerith.

"Wanna come play right now?"

The invitation came from Ayumu. The little girl stared with such ardent expectation that Aerith began to blush. She'd never encountered so many kids her age all at once, or maybe ever in her entire life. They admittedly numbered only six, but in Aerith's mind, that seemed like an exceptionally large crowd. And they were still all staring at her!

Aerith was fumbling for how to respond, when Elmyra came to the rescue.

"Sorry, but we've got quite a bit of shopping planned today, and I really need Ronna with me to help pick everything out. But I'm sure she'd love to play with you next time. Sound good?"

Elmyra gently tugged on Aerith's hand, leading her away.

Aerith glanced back once. Sure enough, every pair of eyes was watching her go. The girl who'd introduced herself as Sara cautiously held a hand near her chest and gave a tiny wave. Aerith gave a shy wave back, and then all the children were waving, some with their arms outstretched and swinging from side to side. The sight filled her with joy, and she continued to glance back again and again, and to wave each time, until she could see the other children no more.

"Looks like you're off to a good start," chuckled Elmyra.

"Yeah!"

As they went about their day, Elmyra was careful to introduce Aerith to everyone else they came across. They said hello to the proprietor of Elmyra's favorite café, and to the neighborhood doctor, and to numerous other acquaintances. Everyone welcomed Aerith with open arms and friendly smiles. And as they departed each encounter, Elmyra mentioned casually, as if it were no more than a passing afterthought, the news of Clay's death. Before the words of sympathy and regret could pour forth─before the shock could even fully register on the listener's face─Elmyra would add, "I'm heartbroken, but darling Ronna here is helping me keep my mind off our loss."

And with that, she'd bid farewell, quickly ushering Aerith out the door while the unresolved storm of empathy and panic still clouded the proprietor's eyes.

"Sorry, Aerith," Elmyra explained the first time. "I hope you don't mind me using you to cut these encounters short. I just can't bear the thought of reminiscing over Clay for hours on end. Someday it might do me good, but that day isn't today."

"Okay," Aerith had responded. "But don't forget. Right now I'm Ronna, not Aerith."

"Yes... Yes, of course. I suppose I should start calling you that all the time, so I don't slip up."

A week had passed since "Ronna's" official introduction to the neighborhood, and Aerith was at the Sector 5 House, enjoying the afternoon with the other children, when she spotted Meguro coming from the direction of the station.

He was hard not to notice: the man was clad in a crisp, immaculate white suit, quite at odds with the dull, grimy earth tones that dominated the undercity scenery.

The arrival of Meguro himself wasn't surprising; Elmyra had informed Aerith that he would be by, and Aerith had been given permission to stay outside playing at the House up until his visit.

But what did catch Aerith off guard was his entourage: at Meguro's heels, she spied a boy who must've been about ten. He was wearing loose-fitting trousers and a plain white shirt, along with an aloof, dismissive expression. Behind him was a young girl clad in a long, ankle-length skirt: a rather unusual choice in the slums, where low hems threatened to drag through the dirt. Consequently, the girl walked with each hand plucking the fabric at her thighs. It struck Aerith as an awfully cumbersome solution. Had the girl walked across the entire neighborhood holding her skirt every step of the way?

In any case, it was a very fine piece of clothing, as was the girl's blouse, which boasted intricate embroidery and elaborate lace frills at the collar and sleeves. She was even wearing a matching wide-brimmed hat. At a glance, it was obvious that Meguro and the two children were no strangers to luxury.

But why would Meguro bring along a couple of... ?

Realization struck, and Aerith (or rather, Ronna, as her playmates had continued to chirp dozens of times over the course of the morning) let out a gasp.

The boy and girl had to be Meguro's children. And that meant the girl was... !

In a few minutes, she'd be standing face to face with the real Ronna!

Aerith hurriedly apologized to her playmates and shot off down the alley before Meguro could spot her, nearly stumbling over the wooden planks when she reached the garden.

"Mom!" she exclaimed as she burst into the house. "Meguro's on his way! And he's bringing his kids! The real Ronna!"

On hearing the news, Elmyra didn't look particularly perturbed.

"Hmph. Got the rugrats with him, does he? I suppose that makes sense. I wish he would've told me, though."

"What are we gonna do?!"

"What, you mean your name? Meguro's accommodating. He'll understand. In fact, he's probably already well aware that you're going by Ronna around town."

Aerith nodded, though she still felt terribly nervous.

When Meguro did arrive, he began by introducing his son, Marcellus. Meanwhile, Ronna stared at Aerith with open fascination.

Meguro continued with his daughter and then, when the introductions were out of the way, promptly snapped open the attaché case carried at his side. From it, he produced three white roses. The first went to Marcellus and the second to the real Ronna. The third he held in his hand as his eyes turned back to Elmyra.

"They're silk," he said, "though I'm very sorry to say it. Still, I felt it wouldn't be right to steal any of those precious real flowers out in the garden."

Elmyra nodded and pointed to a small frame set out in the center of the table. Inside was a photograph of Clay and Gabriel, the two so similar in appearance, it would have been easy to mistake them as brothers. Meguro and his children each took turns placing a rose at its base. That done, they stood abreast, clasping their hands before their chests and closing their eyes. Aerith watched with fascination, her mouth hanging slightly open. What in the world were the three doing?

At long last their eyes opened and fingers unknotted. Meguro turned, happening to catch Aerith's bewildered gaze. Aerith blushed and snapped her jaw shut.

"Not used to seeing people pray, I take it? My family's old-fashioned like that. Prayer is how we let the dead know we're thinking of them."

"Clay and Gabriel can hear what you're thinking?!"

At that, Marcellus snorted loudly. But Meguro shot him a stern look, and his gaze quickly dropped to his feet.

Aerith stole a quick glance at Ronna, and the girls' eyes met. It was clear that Ronna had also thought the comment quite amusing.

"It's my belief that they do," said Meguro. "Everything begins with belief. That's a truth that holds for all endeavors, and one which Gabriel was often known to aver."

Elmyra nodded wordlessly.

"Elmyra... My deepest apologies. I wanted to come right away, but my health hasn't been the best this past while."

"It's fine. I hear we've got you to thank for Carlo's help. He and the others took good care of us."

"He took his responsibilities seriously, I hope?"

"He's a harder worker than I would've guessed. Honestly, I was starting to wonder what got into him."

"I'm told that Carlo looked up to Clay like an older brother. Perhaps he decided he could pay his respects by doing what he could for the woman Clay loved. Come to think of it, that might be why he made your life so difficult in the first place. I'm sure he saw much less of Clay once you two were married. In his mind, it might have seemed like you were stealing his brother away."

"Hmph. It wouldn't surprise me none. I used to give Clay hell for staying out late, and nine times out of ten, it was Carlo with him at the bar. I guess in the end, I've been just as childish about this as he has."

Marcellus interrupted, tugging on Meguro's shirtsleeve with a pout, "Dad, I'm thirsty."

"And what do you propose we do about that?" his father replied gruffly.

The boy rolled his eyes, exasperated, but quickly regained his composure, politely asking their host for a drink.

"Sure thing," Elmyra responded, making for the kitchen. "My bad. I should've offered something as soon as you walked in. Go ahead and have a seat, and I'll get us all squared away."

As Elmyra pulled some glasses and a pitcher from the cupboard, Ronna hurried to Aerith's side.

"My birthday's in March," she said. "What month is yours, Aerith?"

"February" was Aerith's timid reply.

"Wow! So that makes you older. But only by one month."

"What're you calling her Aerith for?" butt in Marcellus. "You're supposed to call her Ronna, remember? She stole your name."

Ronna ignored him, smiling brighter than ever and reassuring, "I really don't mind that you took it."

The girl seemed sincere enough. But Aerith couldn't help but notice that she made no attempt to correct her brother's comment about stealing.

Aerith tried to smile back, but her throat felt tight, and her heart seemed to struggle with each beat.

Yet again, it was Elmyra who came to her rescue.

"I was going to wait until we got settled in, but since the topic's already up..."

She'd returned to the dining room table with a tray on which sat five glasses of lemonade. As she set a glass out for each person, she continued. "We'd decided to take your advice, Meguro. To pick out a new name for Aerith, that is. Unfortunately, before we'd had enough time to think it through, we found ourselves in a situation where a name was needed. ‘Ronna' was the one that accidentally popped out."

"I've been curious about Ronna ever since you mentioned her," Aerith hurried to add, turning to look at Meguro. "I wondered what she was like, and I thought it would be really nice to meet her someday and maybe even become friends... Especially on that first day, it was all I could think about, so when I had to come up with a name, Ronna's just spilled out."

"It's my fault," said Elmyra. "I should've sat at her side to help pick something out. But now the whole neighborhood knows her as Ronna, and, well... Changing it would only draw more attention, so I think we ought to stick with it. That is, if you don't mind."

Meguro gave a magnanimous shake of the head. "Mind? Why would we mind? You've done nothing to cause offense."

"Actually, I'm flattered," announced Ronna with obvious delight. "The fact that Aerith picked my name must mean she likes it. It is a very lovely name, don't you think? My mother chose it for me."

"Too bad she died when you were born," Marcellus replied, bumping her shoulder with his.

All trace of emotion vanished from Ronna's face.

"Marcellus," their father broke in, his voice low and stern. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'll not have you blaming your sister. If you can't abide by that rule, you have no place in my household."

"Yes, sir."

Marcellus nodded sulkily. He restlessly fingered the straw in his glass of lemonade and began to use it to blow bubbles into the liquid, sending a spray of tiny drops careening over the rim and onto the surface of the table. The game seemed to amuse him, though Aerith watched half in horror, all but certain this was a child she could never get along with.

Still, he was Meguro's son, and Meguro was Elmyra's trusted friend. Aerith steeled herself, determined to accept Marcellus, crudeness and all.

"Well, if that's the case," announced Meguro, "I suppose we should get used to Aerith's new name too. It's important to make these things a habit."

The real Ronna offered a bright smile and said, "Nice to meet you, Ronna."

"Nice to meet you too, Ronna," Aerith replied with a giggle. "And you, Marcellus."

The boy continued to blow into his straw.

Meguro cleared his throat. "And now, children, if you would excuse Elmyra and me, we have some business to discuss. Go ahead and play outside, but stick to the garden, please. I don't want you heading down the alley and away from the house."

"Yes, sir." Marcellus's reply was crisp.

He sucked up the remainder of his lemonade in one quick draw, and his sister hurried to do the same. When Aerith tried to follow suit, some of the lemonade went down the wrong way, and she began to cough, dirtying her own portion of the dining table with flecks of liquid.

Elmyra only laughed and urged them all outside.

When they stepped out into the garden, movement near the alley entrance caught Aerith's eye. Jean from the Sector 5 House was lingering there, curiously peering in at the yard and its home.

"Oh, look," sneered Marcellus. "The poor little orphan kids have come to play."

Jean, too far to catch the remark but aware he'd been noticed, waved his arms high above his head in greeting.

"Hey! Wanna join us?" he called.

"Ew!" yelped Ronna. "Hurry and make them go away, Marcellus. I don't want the creepy orphans next to me."

"They won't mess with us. Our dad's one of the most important people in the sector."

A sense of foreboding had begun to creep its way down Aerith's spine.

"C'mere! Come into the yard!" called Marcellus, his voice suddenly warm and friendly.

"Are you sure it's okay?" Jean asked uncertainly.

"Of course! C'mon! Let's play Tickle the Ogre."

"What's that?"

Jean stepped into the garden, signaling to several other kids waiting at his back. They quickly followed him in. All of them seemed to be from the House. Aerith recognized several from the times she'd been over to play, but there were at least two or three she didn't know.

"It's super popular in the Sector 4 Slums," explained Marcellus. "But I guess you wouldn't know it, living in the orphanage and all."

A shadow crossed Jean's expression, just for a moment. Meanwhile, the much younger Ayumu, oblivious to Marcellus's slight, exclaimed, "Sounds like fun! How do we play? Hey, what's your name?"

"Marcellus."

"And I'm Ronna," added his sister.

Aerith's tension escalated. She braced herself for the questions that were sure to come.

"Hey, that means... Whoa! There's two Ronnas!" Ayumu said, clearly mystified.

"It's just a coincidence. Nothing weird about it," announced Jean, as if he met dozens of girls named Ronna every day.

In a low, accusing voice, Marcellus declared, "Yeah. But this one's a fake."

He pointed at Aerith with a triumphant look and continued. "She stole my sister's name. Her real name is Aerith. Aerith the Name Thief. Isn't that right?"

Marcellus's expression had now twisted into a sickening grin. Aerith felt every pair of eyes trained upon her.

"I'm not a name thief!" she protested. "I didn't steal anything!"

"That's what they all say," Marcellus replied scornfully. All at once, Aerith knew she was seeing the boy for who he truly was.

"Stop it!" his sister cut in, but Marcellus pretended not to hear.

"I'm not a thief!" repeated Aerith.

They could say whatever else they wanted, but she refused to let them believe she'd stolen the name.

"Name thief," Marcellus continued to jeer.

"It's not true!"

Aerith's voice began to crack. She swore to herself she wouldn't cry, but the first few tears were already streaming down her cheeks.

"It's not true!" she repeated.

"Hey, aren't you an orphan too? That must be why you get along so well with these brats. Maybe you should've gone to live with them instead of worming your way into Clay's house. But I guess that's how it goes when you're a thief and an orphan. You'll take everything you can get."

Marcellus turned his nose up in an exaggerated show of disgust.

Someone, somewhere shouted, "Shut up!"

And then Marcellus was tumbling through one of the flower beds, along with someone else. It took Aerith a moment to register that it was Jean who had tackled the taller boy to the ground. They struggled for a moment until Jean managed to roll Marcellus on his back, and another boy rushed in to straddle Marcellus's stomach and pin his arms.

Aerith recognized the second orphan. Though small in frame, he was at least three or four years older than most of the others, and he went by the name of X─which Aerith had to admit struck her as a most peculiar name. Normally, X was quiet and reserved, frequently going out of his way to help the teachers at the House and consequently only free to join the other children's games on occasion.

Marcellus's snide remarks seemed to have ignited something in X. He stared down at the pinned boy with open fury.

"Quit it! Get off me!" yelled Marcellus.

"Not until you stop making fun of the House!" X roared back.

Marcellus's insults only grew fiercer. "It's a stupid, run-down orphanage! You're all poor, and you deserve to be made fun of!"

"Hit him!" cheered several of the orphan girls from the sidelines. "Punch him in the face!"

Aerith brought her hands to her eyes, terrified by the violence the other children were capable of.

Meanwhile, Ronna wailed, "Stop it! Please! Marcellus, tell them you're sorry!"

X had Marcellus's collar bunched in his fist, and he was shaking the other boy's head up and down as he continued to demand a retraction.

Marcellus would not relent.

"I'm not apologizing until Aerith does!" he snarled. "She's the one you should be mad at! She stole my sister's name!"

Meanwhile, Jean glanced nervously from the alleyway to the front door of the Gainsborough residence.

"I'm sorry!" cried Aerith. "I was wrong for using Ronna's name without asking!"

"You stole it! Say it! Admit that you're a thief!"

"I didn't steal anything!"

X lifted his free hand and slapped Marcellus across the cheek.

"Stop it!" screamed Aerith.

Her own cheeks stung, as if she were the one struck. She didn't like Marcellus. She didn't want to protect him. But the whole situation had gone much too far.

"X! Please!" she begged.

"I'll let him go just as soon as he apologizes. He can say whatever he wants about us, but I won't have him badmouthing the House."

With hand again raised, he repeated his demand.

"No!" growled Marcellus. "Not before the name thief!"

Aerith wanted it to be over. She'd have done nearly anything to put a stop to the awful, awful chaos. And so, between sniffles and panicked gulps of air, she blurted out, "I'm sorry. I stole Ronna's name. It was a mean thing to do to Ronna, and to you too."

Jean was the first to pull back, after which X scrambled to his feet. Marcellus, freed of his captors, swayed unsteadily as he pushed himself upright. His look of triumph, however, was plain.

"Hmph. So you finally admit it."

A thin trail of blood ran from the corner of his mouth to his chin. It seemed he'd bit his tongue in the fall. His entire body trembled, and it was clear he was doing everything he could to maintain an air of dignity.

"Now it's your turn," said Jean. "Take back what you said about our House."

Marcellus took a long, leisurely moment to sweep his eyes over Jean and the other children. The sickening grin returned, and he announced, "Stupid, run-down orphanage!"

First Jean and then X pounced, followed by other boys whose names Aerith didn't know. They were grabbing at Marcellus's clothes and taking swipes at his face. Ronna ran toward the Gainsborough home shrieking, and the solution finally clicked for Aerith too: they needed help from an adult. It was what they should have done at the first sign of trouble. She chased after, but just as Ronna set foot on the patio, the door swung open to reveal Meguro's great, looming frame.

In an instant he'd sized up the situation, and he bellowed out, voice like a geyser of steam exploding at the surface, "All of you, stop right this instant!"

It was such a departure from the Meguro she'd come to know, Aerith found herself cowering to the ground, body quaking uncontrollably. The sounds of the scuffle ceased, and Aerith knew without looking that every other child stood frozen in terror too.

Elmyra appeared at the door looking shocked, and Meguro stormed from the porch, past Ronna and Aerith, rapidly closing the distance to the other kids.

"Run!" cried a boy from the orphanage─Aerith wasn't sure if it was Jean or X.

She followed Meguro with her eyes, turning in time to see children scrambling, desperate to reach the safety of the alley and the House beyond. Only Marcellus remained still, proud and sullen. When Meguro reached him, he snatched his son's ear between thumb and forefinger and began to march the young boy back to Elmyra's doorstep. Marcellus winced every step of the way, awkwardly bent forward and loudly complaining about the pain.

"I have had it up to here with your behavior," Meguro growled.

"It wasn't my fault!" protested the boy. "The orphans barged their way into the yard! I was telling them to go home when they all attacked me!"

"Oh, yes," scoffed his father. "Our great and gallant savior. How very like you."

"Aerith's the one who started it!"

"I thought I made myself very clear. The name business is resolved. Ronna and I both gave our consent, and however you feel is beside the point. The matter does not concern you."

"But... !"

"I'll not say it again, Marcellus. You either shape up or ship out. Do you understand? Your behavior is an embarrassment to me and to the memory of your dear mother. I'll not have you drag our family name through the dirt. And the next time I hear someone attribute your behavior to the fact that you've grown up without a mother, so help me..."

They'd reached the doorstep, but Meguro still held the boy's ear tight as he delivered his scolding.

Elmyra placed a hand gently on Meguro's arm. "Surely that's enough."

"I suppose." Meguro released his grip on his son's ear and, turning to Aerith, said, "I'm very sorry about this. You'll have to excuse my son. I'd like to think he was being protective of his sister, as misguided as his actions were. Please allow Ronna and me to apologize on his behalf."

Marcellus's eyes bored into her. All Aerith could think about was how desperately she wanted to put the matter to rest.

"Thank you, but Marcellus is right," she said. "It was my fault. I'm really sorry about taking Ronna's name."

She looked at each of them in turn and apologized once more: first to Meguro, then to Marcellus, and finally to Ronna. Afterward, she glanced up at Elmyra, who frowned but nodded slightly.

"Well, then... Elmyra, we ought to wrap things up. Aerith and Ronna, why don't you two head inside? Marcellus, you stay right where you are and think about what you've done."

Once inside, Aerith peeked out the window at Marcellus. Crossing paths with the boy, she decided, must be very much like encountering a monster.

Meguro and Elmyra quickly brought their conversation to a close. When they'd finished, Meguro stepped inside the house, and she heard him saying, "I'll stop by the orphanage and lodge a complaint. The children won't be wandering near the Gainsborough home again. In fact, I'll make it clear that if any harm were to come to Aeri─erm, to Ronna, I'd see to it that their funding dries up overnight. That ought to drive the point home."

"No," replied Elmyra. "I should be the one who goes by to speak with them. I'm already quite friendly with the housemother, and I'd sooner not spoil things between us."

"Hm... Well. It's your choice and your home. But if at any time you wish to emphasize the point, all you need do is call."

All trace of the kind, gracious gentleman Aerith had come to know was gone. It occurred to her that Meguro's politeness was only a mask worn to distract from the ruthless underworld boss that lurked inside.

The implication was still dimly swirling through her mind when Ronna hurried to her side.

"It's no big deal," the girl whispered. "Think of it as me lending you my name. I'm doing it special, just for you. You can pay me back some other time."

Aerith was coming to understand something about Ronna too. Behind the girl's quite genuine kindness was an innate cruelty much like her father's.

Sensing a lull in Aerith's story, Tifa gently broke in. "Can I ask something? The Sector 5 House... Is that the same thing as the Leaf House?"

"That's the one. Actually, at the time, its official name was the Sector 5 Undercity Juvenile Care Facility, but everybody just called it the Sector 5 House. It didn't become the Leaf House until I was much older.

"Actually, the Sector 5 House had kind of a shady reputation. I had no idea at the time, but the owner used to cut deals with businesses in the slums. When the kids were old enough to move out, a lot of them were sold into lives of hard labor."

Tifa responded with a horrified gasp.

"Come to think of it, I guess that makes him a trafficker─just the kind of thing you used to worry about. The children didn't know anything, of course. And neither did the teachers or staff who actually spent time with the kids. When the orphanage finally changed hands, it was X who took over─the boy who beat up Marcellus. I heard he saved every gil he ever made and bought the place out once he was all grown up."

"Huh..." Tifa said, though clearly a bit disappointed. "I was just thinking about one of our Avalanche operatives. There was a rumor he donated a lot of time and money to the Leaf House, since that's where he grew up. I wondered if you might've known him back then, but it sounds like maybe not."

"You mean Biggs?"

"Huh?! So you do know him?!"

"Well, I never met him in person. But in my last few years in the slums, I heard the teachers and other kids talk about him a lot. They really looked up to─"

Aerith's voice shot up in volume as she cut herself off. "Wait a second! I can't believe I never put it together! X must be Biggs!"

"What? But─"

"X told me he was brought to the orphanage as a baby. Nobody knew his real name, so the staff members decided to call him X until they settled on something else. The name caught on with the other children, and by the time X was old enough to understand, he'd decided he liked it. But he told everyone that by the time he moved out, he was going to come up with the greatest name ever, and that's what the whole world would come to know him by. And the name he must've chosen was..."

Both Tifa and Aerith chanted in unison, "Biggs!"

In the wake of the scuffle at Elmyra's house, after Aerith's new friends from the orphanage learned that she was using a pseudonym, the children's reactions had run the gamut: some were ambivalent, others confused, and still others upset. But X's reaction was different. He took Aerith aside and shared the story of his own name, seeming to hope it might put her guilt to rest. We've all got a right to choose the name we want to go by, he'd said.

As Aerith recounted the interaction, she saw tears welling once more in Tifa's eyes.

"He always knew the right thing to say," Tifa murmured. She cleared her throat and asked, "Would you mind if I told Barret later? He'd be happy knowing the full extent of what Biggs did for you and the rest of those kids."

After Meguro and his children had left, Elmyra said she had some things to take care of and headed out alone. She returned about an hour later and gave Aerith a full report of what she'd accomplished.

First, she explained, she'd gone by the Sector 5 House to apologize for Marcellus's outburst and to inform them of Aerith's real name. She explained to the children that Aerith had her reasons for concealing her true name, but that she still hoped to be friends with them. Elmyra also expressed her hope that those in the orphanage's care could be instructed not to discuss Aerith with people outside the House.

"I'd made up my mind to be as truthful with them as I could, but the housemother was understanding enough not to ask why exactly you needed to go by another name. She also assured me that Jean has a good head on his shoulders. He'll know how to get the other children on board with keeping your secret. And after that, I went ahead and told a few of my acquaintances living just beyond the alley."

"Okay."

"I think we can trust everyone to stay quiet, but to be on the safe side, I made one more stop to speak with Butch. He and the other number threes will take turns stationing men at our home, in case Shinra or some other interested party shows up. I think that ought to have us sleeping soundly enough, don't you?"

Elmyra's plan seemed to be working out. For a brief time, the two spent their days in peace. Aerith got used to going by her real name at home and by Ronna whenever she was out, and she was slowly getting the hang of life in the slums too. Having a visitor in the house all the time wasn't so bad either, and she got to know each of the number threes quite well, along with some of the men they trusted most. Meguro continued to visit a few times per month, though he never again brought his children with him.

Somewhere along the way, Butch announced his intent to retire, and Carlo's name came up as a potential replacement.

And then in February, Carlo took it upon himself to plan Aerith's eighth birthday party. It was going to be a huge event. He'd promised that everyone of note in the family business would be there to join in the celebration, and Aerith had been so overjoyed to hear it, she ran right over to give Carlo a great big hug. She even had permission to invite her friends from the Sector 5 House. (Carlo insisted, however, that Marcellus and Ronna be there too, no matter how much Aerith pleaded otherwise.)

But for all the planning, the birthday party never came to fruition.

The evening before the party was to take place, Carlo and several of his men had arrived to begin decorating Elmyra's front room, only for Rodin to burst in with awful news.

Meguro had suffered a heart attack.

They'd found him collapsed at home, and though he was still clinging to life, recovery was uncertain.

In an instant, everyone had a new priority: since Meguro was the acting head of the family business, he managed numerous crucial responsibilities that now needed to be delegated out. Business had to go on, and the family needed to appear strong. A young girl's birthday party was the least of anyone's concerns.

To Aerith's horror, Carlo immediately announced that the party would have to be postponed─though at the time, she found some small solace in the fact that he hadn't canceled it altogether.

Still, it was hard to get excited about a party held on some other, ordinary day of the year, while her own special day would pass by unobserved. Aerith's enthusiasm about turning eight years old withered away, and as the adults rushed to and fro sorting out their grown-up concerns, she took to closing herself up in her room for long stretches of time, much of which was spent in tears. One moment, she'd find herself overcome with anger at Meguro and his stupid heart attack, and the next, she'd be paralyzed with guilt.

When the morning of her birthday did arrive, she went downstairs to find that Elmyra wasn't even at home. There was only a very plain breakfast on the table, along with a note explaining that her mother had left early to speak with Meguro.

Aerith retreated upstairs without eating. A while later, she heard children from the Sector 5 House at the door, asking her to come out and play. She ignored them.

Finally, around evening, Elmyra returned.

"Meguro's going to pull through," she said. "He's past the worst of it."

"Oh. That's good."

"But get this. He was still going on about how he wanted me to promise to take care of his children if anything happens to him."

"He said what?!"

"Marcellus and Ronna and you all under one roof. Can you even imagine? I guess you and I had better pray with all our hearts that Meguro gets better."

Elmyra chuckled warmly, and Aerith couldn't help but join in.

"That's the first time I've heard you laugh since this whole ordeal began," remarked Elmyra. "How about you and I head out to town this evening? We'll find someplace with a little more cheer and some good food to boot."

"Yeah."

"That's the spirit. Actually, I've already arranged a bodyguard for our little outing. He should be here any moment."

"Who is it?" asked Aerith.

The words had hardly left her mouth, when the doorbell rang.

"Coming!" she yelled as she rushed to the door.

In the fading daylight, the man on the other side of the glass was little more than a silhouette. Aerith threw the doors open, excited to find out which of the family's men would be accompanying them, only to meet with a stranger.

Or rather, the man himself was a stranger, but his jet-black suit was all too familiar.

Aerith's mind flashed back to the Shinra Building. The few times she'd been brought before Professor Hojo, there had always been a man standing just off to the side, wearing a suit and tie of just that type. And the one and only time Aerith had been taken in to see President Shinra, another man in a black suit had stood at the president's right hand.

Shinra had finally come for her.

On finding Aerith the one to open the door, the man was momentarily startled. He then smiled ever so slightly.

"So this is where you've been," he said, his tone gentle.

Aerith retreated a few steps and shouted, "No... Go away!"

She hurried behind Elmyra's legs, clinging to them for safety. Meanwhile, the man confidently strode into the house, hardly acknowledging Elmyra at all. When Elmyra shifted to keep herself between Aerith and the stranger, he simply leaned to one side, stooping low to address the girl at eye level.

"Aerith," he said. "You know you're not just any little girl. You're a descendent of the Ancients."

Elmyra cut him off. "Excuse me, but you can't just barge in here. This is my home. Who are you, anyway?"

"My apologies. I'm here on behalf of the company. That is to say, the Shinra Electric Power Company."

"Pretty young to be representing Shinra, aren't you? Have they started sending interns to take care of business in the slums? And I'm still waiting to hear who you are. Don't tell me you believed your little corporate name drop would leave me too shaken for words."

One corner of the stranger's mouth twitched, and the calm vanished from his eyes.

"Tseng," he replied brusquely. "Of the General Affairs Division."

"And you're here because... ?"

"At present, I'm only hoping to have a short chat with Aerith."

"I'm not gonna talk to you!" shouted Aerith. "I don't want to!"

Elmyra took a step toward the man and said, "I think there's been some kind of mistake. What was it you called her just now? An ‘Ancient'? Who are the Ancients?"

Tseng straightened and looked Elmyra in the eyes.

"They were the original stewards of the planet whose boundless knowledge and wisdom shall guide us to the promised land."

He turned, gesturing thoughtfully as he continued. "Some believe the promised land to be a myth. Others, an allegory of sorts. But we take the words of the scriptures at face value and believe it to be quite real. Which is why Shinra would like very much for Aerith to help us─"

Aerith had been listening in horror. She knew what he was really after: he meant to drag her away from her new home. She wouldn't let it happen, though. There was no way this man or anyone else was taking her back to the Shinra Building.

"You're wrong!" she yelled. "I'm not an Ancient!"

"But, Aerith... even when you're all alone, don't you hear voices whispering secrets?"

"No, never!"

Aerith turned and bolted for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time until she reached the landing and the safety of her room. She slammed the door behind her and dove under the covers of her bed.

It wasn't cold, yet she found herself shivering uncontrollably. Her new home, her new friends, her new mother... Everything she'd managed to secure this past year threatened to vanish in an instant, like nothing more than a cruel, fleeting taste of what could have been. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drive off the debilitating sense of fear or at least keep it at bay. But the awful possibilities simply played out on the backs of her eyelids instead. She saw herself being dragged to her old room in Shinra HQ and confined there. She saw Elmyra being interrogated and tortured for keeping her hidden.

What could she do? How could she stop it? She wanted to know what else the man and Elmyra were saying, but the thought of heading back out to the landing to peek downstairs was far too terrifying. He might spot her and try to come upstairs. He might already be climbing the stairs, about to barge in at any moment. What if─

The door creaked open.

Aerith hugged the blankets tighter yet.

But when the words came, it was Elmyra's gentle voice she heard.

"We reached an agreement."

Aerith cautiously poked her head from the covers. Elmyra had entered alone; the man was nowhere to be seen. Her mother's eyes were wet with compassion.

"Oh, you poor thing. This must have been so frightening for you. Everything's okay now. He's gone, and he won't be bothering us anymore."

Elmyra lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, leaning close to cradle Aerith in her arms.

"Is it true what he said? Are you really an Ancient?"

In typical fashion, Elmyra didn't waste any time getting to the heart of the matter.

"We're actually called the Cetra," Aerith replied. "Well, I mean... Mommy was a Cetra. I'm only half."

Elmyra nodded thoughtfully. "That man Tseng seemed to suggest that Shinra regrets its terrible treatment of Ifal─of your mother. At least, they recognize it's their own fault she chose not to share the one piece of information they wanted most. So the company has decided to ask you for one thing, and one thing only. All they want is to know the location of the promised land. Once they have that, they'll leave you alone forever."

The promised land. Aerith had heard of it, of course. Ifalna had mentioned the name in passing a few times. But Aerith had no idea what it was or where it might be found. She couldn't give Shinra an answer, even if she'd wanted to. And that apparently meant they'd never leave her alone.

"I don't know," she sobbed. "I don't know anything about the promised land."

"Tseng assumed as much. But he seems to believe that even if you don't know now, there might come a day when you do."

"I don't want to leave. I like it here. I like being with you!"

"I feel the same way. That's why I made my proposal. I told him that, seeing as you and I are together every day, it'd be very easy for me to keep an eye out for any sign of change. If it seemed to me some new knowledge had awakened inside you, I promised Shinra would be the first to know. But in exchange, they had to promise not to come near you until that day arrived. Tseng contacted his superior and got a formal agreement then and there. So I'll give him one thing; he knows how to get things done."

"So I can stay?"

Elmyra smiled. "That's right. And what Tseng never has to know is that while I will be keeping an eye on you, it'll only be to watch you grow up as an ordinary, happy little girl."

The long, deep blare of a foghorn sounded through the cargo hold. Aerith glanced up at Tifa, who continued to listen intently as ever.

"Once Shinra knew where I was, there wasn't much point in hiding my name. So I started going by Aerith again. Not just at home, but outside too. And for a while, my life was again peaceful. The Turks kept their promise, steering clear of the house, and the Gainsborough family business was running smoothly again."

With a slight smile, she added, "That's not to say everything was easy. Mom and I had our little arguments. Things didn't always go as expected, and occasionally I just wanted to run to my room and cry. But that's all part of an ordinary life, right? And in a way, that's what I'd always wanted."

"Ordinary is good," Tifa observed, her voice heavy with emotion.

"But ordinary never seems to last, does it? Eventually, my whole world was thrown into chaos again, and wouldn't you know it, I had Marcellus to thank."

"Oh no..."

Elmyra and Aerith were at home, and Carlo had just come by to visit.

"Aerith," the man exclaimed with a smile as he walked in. "How's it goin'? I brought ya somethin'."

From his briefcase, he produced a small packet of candies. To Aerith, it seemed a slightly childish gift for a girl of the very grown-up age of ten. Elmyra seemed to disapprove as well─though her concern undoubtedly had more to do with nutrition. For the past several weeks, she'd been emphasizing again and again how sweets were enemy number one to healthy teeth.

At any rate, once the gift was in Aerith's hands, Carlo straightened and said, "All right. Now your mom and I have got some pain-in-the-ass grown-up stuff to discuss. How 'bout you take those upstairs and enjoy?"

"All right."

It was the usual flow of events whenever anyone of note in the family hierarchy stopped by. Aerith was rarely informed about what was going on anymore, and she'd noticed that Elmyra had become a little less open and a little more motherly, particularly when it came to matters deemed too serious for her precious daughter's ears.

Aerith made an elaborate show of heading upstairs, certain to close the door to her room with a very audible thud. Then, without missing a beat, she opened the door once more, this time quietly and just enough to slip back out into the hallway. She crept to the landing, judging each footstep carefully to avoid the old wooden boards that liked to creak.

"... real problem," she heard Carlo say. "I mean, we're talking a major issue here."

His voice was anything but hushed.

"How closely have you been following Meguro's condition?" he asked Elmyra.

"I'd understood his heart's doing pretty well."

"Unfortunately, that's pretty much the only part of him that's on the mend. The guy's got three other chronic conditions I can hardly even pronounce, and hell, you've seen his weight. He started packin' it on after Ronna was born and ain't never stopped. Since his wife died, he doesn't sleep, and the only food he'll touch is either sticky sweet or deep-fried in oil."

"Believe me, I know. I tried to get after him about it. Now I'm wondering if maybe I should've tried harder."

"Yeah, well, you and the rest of the sector. If ya bring it up, he either shrugs it off or goes ballistic. Anyway, now he's talkin' about movin' somewhere he can get better treatment. Like, up-on-the-plate better. Seems to think he can manage the business just as well from a cushy mansion in the sky. Worse yet, he plans to drag one of the number threes along with him too. One of us poor saps is gonna have to commute up and down, relayin' his orders. You seein' the problem yet?

"I know Meguro's more or less runnin' things these days, but as far as the rest of us are concerned, he's on the same level as you. Makin' plans to move topside, without even givin' you a heads-up? It ain't right. It's a fuckin' insult, is what it is."

"Pain-in-the-ass grown-up stuff. I couldn't have put it better myself."

Elmyra paused before continuing. "Look, I was only ever a part of this because someone had to stand in for Clay. I've been hands off for years now, letting Meguro run the show. The last thing I want is to get wrapped up in a power struggle. Fight among yourselves if you like, but leave me out of it."

"This business is how you put food on the table. Doesn't matter if you pretend otherwise. At the end of the day, you're a part of this."

Elmyra muttered a response that Aerith couldn't make it out. Even so, she could envision the deep sigh that would've accompanied it.

"And anyway, that's not the worst of it," said Carlo. "The real pain in the ass is Marcellus. Snot-nosed little punk ran away from home. That's why I'm here. Normally, I wouldn't give a damn, but Meguro's ordered the whole family to organize a search for the kid, including you. So there you go. That's what he sent me here to say, and now I've said it."

"Goodness... I haven't seen Marcellus for at least a couple years. He's gotta be, what, thirteen? Fourteen?"

"Somethin' like that. Old enough to take care of himself, that's for sure. Hell, I ran away when I was twelve. So I dunno why Meguro has to make such a damn fuss about this."

"There's more you're not telling me."

Carlo snorted. "Yeah, well, the whole sector knows Meguro's on his way out. Sorry to be blunt, but it's a matter of when, not if. There are plenty of interested parties who'd like a piece of Sector 5, and they sure as hell ain't sittin' on their asses. Word is Corneo's lookin' to expand his empire, and then you've got the Manson brothers way on the other side of the city, gunnin' for new turf. Meguro's heard the talk, and now he's got this idea in his head that Marcellus must've been kidnapped. Honestly, I think he's overreactin', but... I dunno. What's your take on all this?"

"If it was a kidnapping, there'd be a message. A list of demands."

"Haven't seen nothin' like that. Not yet, anyway. And the kid's been gone goin' on three days. Now, you ask me, nine-to-one odds he just ran away. But I guess we still gotta prepare for the worst-case scenario."

"Hmph... All right. I'll keep my eyes open too, for what good it'll do us. I live in the nicer part of the slums, in case you hadn't noticed. Not a lot of likely haunts for kidnappers around here."

"I know. We'll spearhead the search. You've got Aerith to look after, so all I'm askin' is for you to be aware. And if the kid was abducted... Hands off or not, to anyone lookin' in from the outside, you're as prominent as Meguro. And Aerith's your daughter. If I were a slimeball lookin' for a bargaining chip, I know who I'd try to kidnap. And I'm willing to bet you'd give the business up in a second if it meant keeping Aerith safe."

Carlo's final few comments sent Aerith scrambling backward, breath caught in her throat. No longer paying attention to her footfalls, she managed to get several loud creaks out of the floor in the process.

Elmyra called sharply from downstairs, "Aerith?"

When Aerith didn't respond, the woman sighed and said, "I know you're there, so you might as well come down."

Her cover was blown. She had no choice but to comply.

When she appeared on the staircase, Carlo asked how much of the conversation she'd heard.

"Nearly everything," she admitted sheepishly.

"It's all right. Nothing's going to happen to you," reassured Elmyra, though her voice seemed strained. "Doesn't hurt to be careful, though," the woman continued. "Maybe we ought to get out of the city for a while. The nurse that used to look after Gabriel lives in Kalm now. I'm sure we could arrange to stay with her until it's safe again."

"Yeah. That might be a good idea," put in Carlo.

Aerith's spirits fell. Over the past few years, she'd grown terribly self-conscious of the burden she represented. In agreeing to take care of her, Elmyra had made one sacrifice after another. Now Elmyra was going to have to leave her own home too.

"I'll arrange a car and a driver to get you to Kalm," said Carlo. "No, scratch that. I'll drive. It's been longer'n I can remember since I've been behind the wheel, but I'd rather see you there with my own two eyes. So get a bag packed tonight. I'll be here at dawn. Put on some good shoes and clothes fit for lots of walkin'. We'll have to hoof it from here to the gate."

Everything was moving much too fast. Aerith desperately wanted to slam on the brakes.

Carlo seemed to sense her distress and said, "It won't be forever. Once things blow over, I'll zip right over to Kalm to bring you two back."

He smiled and puffed out his chest. Elmyra put an arm around Aerith's shoulders and squeezed tight.

It was dark, and Aerith and Elmyra had both gone to bed, trying to catch at least a few hours' rest before their departure. They'd spent the evening packing their essentials in the small suitcase that Elmyra and Clay had used for their picnics.

However, Aerith was too wound up to sleep. Her mind flitted from topic to topic, and at some point, she found herself wondering where Marcellus was at that moment. Could he really have been kidnapped? Or had he just run away? It was the first time she'd thought about the boy in years, yet the sound of his voice and the things he'd said that day in the garden were as fresh in her mind as ever. She recalled the drops of lemonade spattered across the dining table and the dirt stains left on his fancy white shirt after he'd been tackled.

It was hard for her to picture his face, though. What exactly had Marcellus looked like? After the fight, there'd been the thin trail of blood down his chin, and she had a vague recollection of his round, pudgy nose and narrowed, mocking eyes...

When Marcellus's features finally did emerge from memory, a shiver passed through her from head to toe, and Aerith muttered to herself, "Right... how could I forget?"

Sudden light flickered at the edges of her drawn curtains. Aerith sat up in bed, curious as to its source. When the light flickered again, she slid from the covers and padded across the room. Pushing one curtain aside─ever so slightly, so as not to draw attention─she peered down at the garden.

There, right in the spot where Jean had pushed him to the ground years ago, stood Marcellus.

Aerith gasped. Then, in the next moment, she too was in the garden.

At her feet lay Marcellus, faceup and covered in blood.

"No!" she screamed.

Marcellus's eyelids lifted slowly, ponderously. He groaned with pain and reached one hand toward Aerith's bare feet, grasping tight when he found her toes.

Another shiver ran down Aerith's spine, and the scenery melted and shifted once more.

Now she stood suspended above a place she did not recognize. She saw a long wall that seemed to curve away forever to both sides. Tattered stretches of chain-link fencing stood here and there.

When Aerith glanced over her shoulder, she saw the city looming large and yet somehow distant. Beyond the wall lay an endless expanse of cracked, dry earth, and she recalled a story her mother had once shared about the badlands that surrounded the city.

"Help... me..." groaned a voice, and Aerith realized she'd drifted down to the ground, where Marcellus once more lay at her feet. This time she could see faint, shimmering currents of light pouring out of his chest, and she knew at once that the radiant flow was life. Somehow, she'd always known. Marcellus's life was slowly slipping free, and it would not be long until he'd lost it all.

"Where are we?" she whimpered.

"Sector 6..." he moaned. "Near... Near the gate..."

"What gate?" she cried. "I don't know this place. I've never been to Sector 6!"

But she stopped herself, took a deep breath, and told him, "Hang on. I'll find help."

Aerith turned and ran in the direction opposite the wall, hoping it would lead her to the slums and a familiar landmark. Something. Anything. Or if not that, then at least someone. She could beg for help or maybe invoke the Gainsborough name if nobody paid her any mind.

But no matter how hard she ran, the distant piles of scrap and the undercity's ramshackle skyline weren't growing any nearer. Before she knew it, her surroundings were shifting again, and Marcellus was no longer behind her. Everything was gone, melted away and replaced with an all-encompassing white haze that enveloped and blinded her. An awful crawling sensation spread across Aerith's skin, and she could feel her own blood steadily coursing through her body with each sickening heartbeat.

"Make it stop!" she cried. "Help! Mommy!"

Her own voice seemed to fade in and out, one moment distant and the next a thundering in her ears. The whiteness deepened to gray and then black, and at last, reality began to fade back in. When Aerith's eyes remembered how to see, they told her she was in her room, and that she'd somehow never left. She lay crumpled against the floor beside the windowsill but struggled to her feet and violently thrust the curtains aside.

There was nothing in the garden. Only the darkness of night, though that too had begun to flee as dawn crept its way into the sky.

She sensed someone in the hallway, and not a moment later, the door pushed gently open. Elmyra's head poked through the gap.

"You're already up. Good. Carlo should be here any moment. Get changed and hurry downstairs."

"Marcellus," Aerith blurted. "He's in Sector 6. Near the gate. He's hurt and bleeding. I think he's in a lot of pain."

Elmyra's eyes were sharp with suspicion, but Aerith held her gaze, confident she was doing the right thing.

"Fine," said Elmyra. "Let's tell Carlo."

They didn't have to wait long. Carlo arrived at dawn as promised, and though he urged them to depart immediately, Elmyra insisted on a moment to speak.

"I got a tip on Marcellus's whereabouts. He's somewhere in the outskirts of the Sector 6 slums, near the gate. I think he might be hurt, and he's almost certainly in danger. Kalm can wait. Find Marcellus."

Carlo furrowed his brow and asked, "Where'd you get this tip?"

"Don't ask how. Please, just trust me on this."

Carlo stared at Elmyra and then at Aerith with an impatient scowl. But he eventually turned to leave, and as he walked through the garden toward the alley, he did so with obvious haste.

Aerith stared at her hands, clenching and unclenching her gloved fingers.

"And that's how Marcellus was found," she told Tifa. "He was near the gate on the outskirts of the Wall Market, just like I'd seen. When Carlo found him, he was hardly breathing, but they managed to get him to a doctor, and in the end, he pulled through. And that was that."

"But how? It's all so... mysterious. I mean, I feel like I've been saying that over and over, but... I just don't know what else to call it."

"If you ask me, there's more to it than my heritage. I'm half Cetra, but I think another big piece of it was the environment. There's something different... something special about the place where the Gainsboroughs built that house."

"And all the flowers? Are they part of that too?"

"I think so. Every year they just pop out of the ground, the same way my mom Ifalna used to pop into my room to see me. I think the only reason she could come so often was because the location made it easy for her to visit.

"But now I can't make the visions come no matter how hard I try. That might be because I'm only part Cetra, but I've got a feeling there's another reason too. I think more than anything, it was the innocence of childhood that allowed me to see those things. I guess I'm just more in tune with the city these days, and it's dulled my senses."

"It seems like such a huge part of yourself to lose."

"Yeah. Now that we're off on this new mission, I guess it might've been a handy skill to have."

The two women fell silent. Happiness was a fickle thing, as were the circumstances it demanded.

"Oh!" exclaimed Tifa. "So how did Marcellus wind up near the gate in the first place? Was he running away from home after all?"

"Yeah. Carlo's hunch was spot-on. Marcellus was angry about moving topside, so he snuck out one night and made for the Wall Market. He was wandering the streets, looking for a place that might offer him a job, when he had a run-in with some of Corneo's goons. He managed to get away, but by then he had no idea where he was. He kept walking and eventually found himself near the wall, face-to-face with a monster."

"Poor kid... I bet Carlo was the hero of the day, though."

"Yup. Even I was seeing him in an entirely different light. He'd transformed from a jerk who was always threatening Elmyra to a friendly, reliable old guy. Well... at the time, he seemed pretty old. Looking back, I realize he was probably in his thirties."

"What do you think he's up to these days?"

Marcellus was back safe. But the family business couldn't overlook the fact that his brush with death had initially been prompted by a run-in with Corneo's goons. The thugs were undoubtedly near the bottom of the pecking order, and they'd most likely only been out to cause trouble, rather than acting on orders. Still, better safe than sorry.

Carlo arranged for two of his subordinates, by the names of Banco and Zoot, to reside at the Gainsborough home until things settled down. The two were in their late twenties, and though friendly enough, they didn't strike Aerith as particularly capable of keeping anyone safe. Especially not if their potential assailants included neighboring syndicates.

The duo spent most of their time lounging about and gobbling up anything Elmyra cooked with big, childish grins. When Carlo stopped by every few days to check on them, he seemed all the more mature and reliable in comparison.

During one particular visit, Carlo was acting unusual. He'd readily agreed when Elmyra invited him to stay for dinner, but he insisted that she make her famous deep-fried meatballs. Even after Elmyra told him she didn't have the ingredients on hand, he begged and begged until finally she saw no way out but to go shopping. Carlo directed Banco and Zoot to tag along as her bodyguards.

Aerith had been at the dining table watching the exchange unfold. The moment Elmyra and her escort were out the door, Carlo turned to her.

"Aerith, I've been meanin' to ask you..."

His voice was overly sweet.

"See, there's this one thing that's been buggin' me. The day we found Marcellus, Elmyra knew exactly where to find him. But I just can't figure out how she woulda known."

"Oh..." Aerith tried to respond as casually as possible. "I don't know either."

She was doing her best to appear calm, but she doubted her act was very convincing.

"Huh. Well, turns out there's a rumor goin' around the family that maybe Marcellus was kidnapped after all. 'Cause, y'know, the ones who beat Marcellus up in the first place were connected to Corneo."

"Yeah?"

"But it gets worse. The buddy who gave me the heads-up? He says people are startin' to point fingers at Elmyra, like maybe she was pullin' the strings. The way Meguro's been makin' plans for the family business without her, it coulda been she wanted to send a message. ‘Get yourself back in line, or things get ugly.'

"I don't wanna believe it, but I hafta admit, it kinda makes sense. How else would she've known exactly where to find Marcellus? You see where I'm goin' with this?"

"They think Elmyra wanted Marcellus to get hurt?" Aerith replied, aghast.

"Bingo. And to be honest, it puts me in a real awkward position. The rest of the family sees how much time I've been spendin' here since Clay died. Now they're startin' to doubt me too. Like maybe Elmyra and me are hookin' up─erm, makin' plans I mean, to sell the family business off to the highest bidder. So I'm thinkin' it's only a matter of time until Meguro comes for us."

A chill ran down Aerith's spine as she recalled how fearsome Meguro could be.

"What're you gonna do?!" she asked Carlo.

"Like I say, the key to it all is figurin' out how Elmyra knew. If we had a simple, believable reason, we could explain ourselves to the family. Not that it's gonna be easy to clear our names, but the truth would at least give us a fightin' chance. And if nothin' else, it'd help me feel a lot better about which side of this I'm on."

Carlo stared at her, the conflict plain in his eyes.

"So if you know anything about what happened that day..."

Aerith understood the implication well enough─at least, she understood the way he was looking at her. Right now, Carlo was a friend. But that could change very quickly.

Her mouth trembled as she tried to speak. The morning Marcellus was found, Elmyra had made one thing very clear: Aerith was not to tell anyone how she'd come to know of the boy's whereabouts.

But she had to do something. And if it was the only way to keep Elmyra safe...

"It was me," Aerith admitted. "I saw it in a dream. Well... not really a dream, but that's the only way I can think to describe it. I ran into Marcellus, and he told me where I could find him. I know it sounds weird, but it's the truth! Really!"

She expected to be met with disbelief. Instead, Carlo nodded thoughtfully.

"And these dreams... do you see a lot of 'em?"

"Not a lot, but... the one about Marcellus wasn't the first."

"Hm. And if it'd happened before, Elmyra would be quick to believe you."

Carlo straightened in his chair, grinned wide, and reached a hand out to pat Aerith on the head.

"You really care about her a lot, don't you?"

Aerith wanted desperately to know what was running through Carlo's mind. She'd told the truth. Would they be able to stay friends now, or was it not enough?

"What's gonna happen now?" she asked. "I'm scared..."

"Me too, kid. Me too."

When Elmyra, Banco, and Zoot returned from their outing, Carlo immediately stood and made for the door.

"Somethin's come up," he said. "Gonna have to take a rain check on those meatballs."

"Oh, for the love of... You sent me all the way into town, and now you're gonna─"

Elmyra cut herself off when she noticed Aerith sitting sullen at the table. She glanced back at Carlo, taking in his dour expression.

"What happened while I was gone?" she demanded.

"That idea about takin' a little trip to Kalm is soundin' better all the time. Lemme hire a car. Or if you're determined to stick around, I can arrange for Aerith to go alone."

"What's going on? Are we expecting an attack? Is it Corneo's men? The Manson brothers?"

"Neither. It's Meguro."

"Meguro... ? You're not making any sense."

"Ever since he got word it was you who provided the tip that led to Marcellus, there's this idea goin' round that maybe you're in Corneo's pocket. And that I am too. That's what everyone's sayin'."

"Who's saying?"

"Rodin, Marvin, Roger, Bauman, Louis... and, most important of all, Meguro."

"The entire family... ?"

Elmyra's eyes squeezed tight. Aerith wished she could see the thoughts running through her mother's head.

When Elmyra finally opened her eyes again, she stared at the center of the table, where sat the photo of Clay and Gabriel, then swept her gaze back up to Carlo.

"Where is Meguro now?" she asked.

"At home. His plan to move topside is on hold until the situation calms down. He's got his whole house locked down tight. Guys posted everywhere. Aw, Elmyra... Don't tell me you're thinkin' of going over there."

"Just to talk. I'll make it clear I want out. He can have the whole damn business for all I care. Gabriel's gone, and so is Clay. My husband's claim was never mine to begin with."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You can't be serious!"

"I've been thinking this over for a long time already. The only thing holding me back was concern about how we'd make ends meet. But we'll figure it out. Now's as good a time as any."

"It won't help clear your name. If anything, Meguro'll see it as more proof that you've flipped over to Corneo. Worst case, he might..."

Carlo hesitated, unwilling to finish the thought.

"I hear you. But this is something I have to do. Look after Aerith for me, will you? Just for a little while longer."

Carlo's shoulders slumped.

"And you, kid?" he asked Aerith. "You okay with this?"

"No!"

Aerith's voice came out hoarse. There was a lump in her throat that just wouldn't go away.

Elmyra smiled and reached a hand to stroke her cheek.

"This could take a while. I might not be back until late. You have dinner with Carlo, hear? And don't give him any trouble when it's time for bed."

"Don't go!" she shouted, but Elmyra's back was already turned.

She rushed forward, hand outstretched to catch hold of her mother's shirttails, but Carlo grabbed Aerith by the arm.

"Let go of me!" she screamed. "Mom, stop! You can't go!"

The front doors closed, and Elmyra was gone.

Banco and Zoot stood awkwardly in one corner of the front room, looking to Carlo for direction.

"Make us somethin' to eat," Carlo snapped. "Anything. I don't care."

"I hate you, Carlo!" shouted Aerith.

Sadness flickered in the man's eyes, but still he held firm.

"Your mother's right," he said. "We gotta do this the proper way. Someday you'll understand."

Aerith had no appetite come dinnertime. She'd hardly sat down before asking to be excused, leaving the omelet prepared by Banco completely untouched.

Upstairs in her room, she paced restlessly, worrying about Elmyra and hoping she'd make it back all right. Each time she passed the window she glanced out, only to find the garden still empty and the day growing darker. Each time she went by the door, she stepped out onto the landing to listen downstairs, but caught nothing more than fragments of idle chatter among Carlo and his men.

It was near midnight when she heard the telltale click of the front doors' latch.

"Elmyra!" Carlo cried out with joy. "Thank god you're alive!"

"If I wanted a hug, I'd ask for it," the woman snapped in return.

Aerith raced to the front room so fast, she nearly went tumbling down the stairs. She found Carlo standing by Elmyra's side, scratching his head awkwardly, as Banco and Zoot looked on with mischievous grins.

"Mom!" Aerith cried.

Elmyra hurried over and bent down to eye level.

"I'm home safe, baby. Sorry I made you worry."

Aerith, too overwhelmed for any further words, simply launched herself into her mother's arms. The hug carried enough force to knock Elmyra backward, but this time the woman uttered no protest.

"I used to be able to carry you around without breaking a sweat. When in the world did you get so big?" teased Elmyra.

She hugged Aerith back firmly, and for a while, they sat there on the wood floor, forgetting everything and everyone.

Eventually, Carlo couldn't wait any longer.

"And?" he cut in. "What did Meguro say?"

Elmyra gently lifted Aerith to her feet, then slowly clambered up herself. She smoothed the wrinkles from her clothes and responded, "He no longer suspects that Marcellus was kidnapped. More important, he never suspected you or me of having anything to do with it."

"What? But my source said─"

"Meguro knows us. We're not the type to go skulking around in the shadows. If we've got something on our minds, we say it straight."

"Damn that old fart... Thinks he knows us better than we know ourselves."

Despite the harsh words, Carlo was beaming.

He paused for a moment, as if grappling with some unresolved detail, and asked, "Then what the hell was all that talk I was hearin'?"

Elmyra crossed her arms. "Remind me who exactly you got your information from."

"It was Butch. Butch told me. Even now that he's retired, he's been goin' by to see Meguro every now and again. Says he likes to keep up to speed on the family business."

Elmyra didn't have to say anything. She raised her eyebrows and waited for Carlo to fill in the blanks.

"Whoa, whoa. You're sayin' Butch set me up?!"

Carlo groaned and clawed at his face. He began to pace about the front room, angrily muttering, "Shit... Shit! Just wait till I get my hands on that wrinkly old bastard!"

"Calm down," said Elmyra. "I haven't finished yet."

Carlo managed to stop fidgeting, but he continued to glower, and his nostrils flared with each breath.

"As to Butch's motives and how he plays into this, I can't say. You go ahead and dig into that on your own time. But Meguro gave me something to take care of before you leave."

She pulled a small box from her purse, which she handed to Carlo.

"What is this?" he asked.

On pulling the lid off and inspecting the contents, Carlo's rage dissipated to shock.

Elmyra replied, "Gabriel's signet. It was fashioned as a pair, the other half of which is in President Shinra's possession. That ring symbolizes the goodwill between the company and our family. When Gabriel died, the ring was supposed to pass to Clay. That chance never came, so Meguro's been holding on to it."

"But that means..."

"The signet belongs with the head of the Gainsborough family business. As do these."

She produced an envelope from her purse, which she also held out to Carlo.

"Deeds to all the properties we own, along with the original memorandum laying out the terms of our business relationship with Shinra. You'll also find all the licenses and certifications we require to operate, and last but not least, an amended agreement listing all current members─from the top all the way down to the number threes─complete with everyone's fingerprint in blood to authorize the changeover. The whole family's on board with this. We all believe it's the right move to make."

She waggled the ring finger of her left hand, wrapped in a tiny bandage stained with a splotch of red, and added, "I signed too, when I was over at Meguro's."

Banco exclaimed, "Boss! Is she sayin' what I think she's sayin'?!"

Elmyra nodded, again proffering the envelope to Carlo.

"Meguro's not planning to kick the bucket yet," she said. "But he's wised up to the fact that he's in no condition to run things. He's been calling the other officers in one by one for a while now, making the necessary arrangements to step down. The last thing he had left to do was make sure you're on board."

Carlo's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. His hand reached out to take the envelope but darted back away. All the while, he was mumbling to himself, saying, "Where is this comin' from?" and "Hell of a lot to spring on a guy all at once," and "What'm I supposed to do here?"

Aerith, Elmyra, and Carlo's two subordinates waited patiently as the would-be successor of the Gainsborough family business made up his mind.

When Zoot couldn't take it any longer, he exclaimed, "You're the boss, Boss!" The others shushed him, and Zoot resumed the wait, though now sniffling and wiping the occasional tear of joy from the corner of one eye.

In the end, it took Carlo three full minutes to decide. He gently lifted the envelope from Elmyra's outstretched hand─which had impressively remained aloft without so much as a tremble─and slid it inside the black briefcase ever at his side.

After a moment's thought, he reached back into the briefcase and pulled out a pistol. Carlo checked the magazine and slid it back into place. He set the weapon down on the dining table with a thud that echoed in the pit of Aerith's stomach.

"Guess this means we won't be comin' around no more," Carlo said. "You're gonna have to take care of yourselves."

Aerith blurted, "You're leaving us?!"

It didn't make any sense. Elmyra and Carlo were clear of suspicion, and Carlo had agreed to take over the family business with Elmyra's and Meguro's blessing. Everything had worked out. So why couldn't Carlo keep coming to see them?

Carlo's mouth screwed up tight in a last-ditch effort to hold back tears. "Yeah. I am. If I keep showin' up at the house, nothin' changes. If you're out, it's gotta look like you're out. Otherwise the neighboring syndicates will still see you as prime targets, and we'll have done all this for nothin'."

He brought a forearm up over his eyes and said, "Aerith, you'll be a real fine woman someday. Elmyra, you already are. Keep it up."

His final words out, Carlo threw open the front doors, dashing into the garden as if unable to bear prolonging the farewell a moment more. Banco and Zoot exchanged glances and hurried to follow.

A moment passed, and the door again opened quietly. Without a word, and without any hesitation, Carlo stepped in and embraced Elmyra in a firm, brief hug. When he stepped away, he sighed deeply, stared at his feet, and then darted back outside.

It was the last Aerith ever saw of him.

Another stretch of peaceful days ensued, almost to Aerith's disappointment. There was no backlash. No hint of any threat to Elmyra's or Aerith's safety. At first, Elmyra insisted upon keeping the pistol close at all times, but six months of uneventful days finally convinced her they were truly safe, and she took the firearm up to the attic to stash away. Aerith was relieved to have it out of sight.

Sometimes, she found herself wondering what Carlo was up to, and if in the end they'd had any run-ins with neighboring syndicates. Members of the family business had long stopped coming by, and little word of its activities seemed to reach their household. At least, Aerith never seemed to hear about it. She assumed Elmyra might have her own quiet channels, but if she did, she certainly never spoke of them.

Still, if there was one thing Elmyra couldn't stand, it was sitting idle. She loved to work, and with her duties in the family business gone, she adopted other, more prosaic pursuits: waitressing at a local café, or putting her cleaning and tidying skills to use at the orphanage and one of the local clinics. The money she brought in managed to keep them afloat.

What amazed Elmyra the most, she'd later tell Aerith, was the fact that a job was always waiting for her, no matter where in the slums she inquired. Even shops that were already fully staffed were quick to point Elmyra to someone else who needed help. People all over the neighborhood seemed to be looking out for the Gainsborough heir and her adopted daughter, making sure the two were never left wanting.

It seemed too good to chalk up to fortune, and when Elmyra began to pry into why the entire sector was so forthcoming, a pattern quickly emerged.

Everyone in the sector, it seemed, had a story about Elmyra's late father-in-law, whether a personal favor received or a kindness done to a close family member. The man had offered help to so many people, he was regarded as somewhat of a legend.

Most important were the livelihoods he'd secured for countless families throughout the slums. While Midgar was still an endless expanse of scaffolding, the city's networks of corruption were also taking shape. Worst off were the day laborers, having traveled from all over with promises of steady work, only to arrive and have to fight for spots on crews that paid a pittance at best. Seedy contractors had been quick to set themselves up between Shinra and the city's workforce, charging finder's fees and commissions, and claiming hefty cuts in exchange for guaranteed placements─any name or device they could come up with to siphon a few more gil away from the workers and to themselves.

But in one sector, at least, things would be different, thanks to one Gabriel Gainsborough.

Driving the unscrupulous and the extortionate out of Sector 5 was a long, bloody process, but eventually Gabriel saw that Shinra's money was again flowing to the workers as intended. With time, he earned the company's trust and managed to negotiate even better conditions. As the city neared completion, many of the laborers were able to transition into life as business owners, opening up their own small shops with the money they'd saved. Even after the businesses passed from one generation to the next, the residents of the slums were not quick to forget the way Gabriel had fought for their families' futures.

The stories left Elmyra stunned, and for days and weeks afterward, Aerith would hear her murmuring to herself throughout the day, "We've all got a lot to be thankful for."

Upon reaching thirteen years of age, it was customary for children living at the Sector 5 House to begin working somewhere in the neighborhood. Aerith, having been aware of the custom for some time, had resolved to do the same.

But when her thirteenth birthday arrived and she unveiled her plan, Elmyra was quick to shut it down.

"Why can't I get a job?" Aerith demanded.

"I'm not saying I want to keep you cooped up at home. I'm just worried. That's all. You and I have been through a lot."

"That was forever ago!"

"I know, but... when you've had life turned on its head as many times as I have, it gets to you. Every time things seem good and I let myself get comfortable, it all falls apart. I guess it's just my luck."

Elmyra shook her head and let out a deep sigh.

"Listen to me. At this rate, I might as well be keeping you locked up like Shinra. Go ahead. Get yourself a job. But try to find something close to home, would you?"

"Thanks, Mom."

Her mother's confession was like a breath of fresh air; it reminded Aerith of their early days together, when Elmyra had always tried to keep her in the loop, and she'd felt certain she was welcome. At the same time, Aerith couldn't help but wonder how many times she'd been the one responsible for turning Elmyra's life upside down.

Aboard the ferry, Aerith sighed much like Elmyra had.

"And as it turns out, Mom was right to be concerned. I should've listened."

Tifa gasped. "More trouble?!"

Aerith responded with a firm nod.

Aerith had planned to look for a job all by herself, but Elmyra beat her to the punch: the teachers at the Sector 5 House needed an assistant, and apparently, Aerith was the perfect girl for the job.

It was curious, though. Once Aerith actually began working there, it seemed that "assistant" was more or less a fancy way of saying she'd be spending most of her time playing with the other children. It didn't really feel like work.

When she'd dreamed of finding a job, she'd imagined diving headfirst into something new. Yoko, who had turned thirteen a few months earlier, had already left the orphanage. Now she was renting an old home together with some friends, and she spent her days fashioning handmade accessories that she took to markets around the sector to sell. Jean and X worked in a scrapyard, rummaging for machine parts, getting rid of the rust, and selling them for repairs.

But when Aerith excitedly discussed her friends' jobs at home, and suggested that maybe she could try something similar, Elmyra only pursed her lips and emphasized that she was not, under any circumstances, to set foot outside Sector 5.

Aerith had had enough.

"You said you wouldn't keep me locked up like Shinra!" she shouted.

"Don't you take that tone with me, young lady. I'm your mother, and I'm trying to look out for you."

In truth, Elmyra appeared exhausted. Her jobs seemed to be wearing on her, and Aerith hated the fact that she was the cause. If Aerith had never shown up in Sector 5, Elmyra would have never left the family business. She'd still be in touch with Carlo and the others, and she would have never known the hardship of working odd jobs all over the sector.

Surely, deep down, Elmyra felt the same. She had to regret sacrificing so much to take care of a stranger's child. That must've been the reason behind all the oppressive rules, boundaries, and curfews. It was Elmyra's way of getting back for all the years she'd spent tied down by her obligation to Aerith.

Tifa grimaced. "Talk about trust issues."

"I know. I admit it. The fact that I was thirteen and already in full-on moody teenager mode wasn't helping. What I really needed was some kind of outlet to focus on, like you had with your training."

"Exercise is amazing for clearing your head. I really recommend it."

"Oh, I'm definitely planning to start a routine of my own. Eventually."

"In other words, never."

Aerith laughed. "Anyway, in spite of all my moping and second-guessing, I did keep showing up for work at the Sector 5 House. The little kids were so cute and fun to be around, and they really seemed to be getting attached to me. By the time I was fourteen, I'd stopped complaining, more or less, and it almost seemed like the whole situation at home was gonna blow over without incident. But then, as luck would have it..."

Aerith had just finished a day's work at the Sector 5 House. As she neared home, she spotted a small group standing right where the alley opened up onto Gainsborough property. They were crowded together with their backs to her, blocking the way, and they seemed to be observing the house and its garden with keen interest.

She saw two women and two men, among whom one of the males seemed vaguely familiar: though she couldn't yet see his face, she could tell he was fairly young, and there was something about his gorgeous, wavy blond hair...

When his identity clicked, she couldn't stop herself from exclaiming, "Rodin!"

The man turned with a smile on his face.

Now that Aerith was certain, she added, "What are you doing here?!"

"Aerith! Good to see you."

Rodin's reply was cheerful enough. Still, the apprehensive glances he shot his companions didn't escape her notice.

"You've gotten taller," he added. "How many years has it been?"

"Two? Maybe more?"

"Sounds about right."

She peered more carefully at the other three members of his group, now wondering if she knew them as well.

The other man─large of frame and looking quite grown up, save for his face─held up one hand shyly and greeted Aerith with a simple, "Hey."

Now that he'd also turned, she could see the eyes, the nose, the mouth...

"Marcellus?!" she yelped.

"Wasn't sure if you'd recognize me."

"Of course I do!"

In truth, he'd changed so much, it was hard to believe he was the same person she'd met years ago. He was tall now and quite heavyset─almost a carbon copy of his father.

"Actually," cut in Rodin, "it's great that you do, 'cause it will save us all some time. This little field trip was Marcellus's idea. He must've badgered me about bringing him here every day for a month, until finally I caved. He says he just had to see you again, and so here we are."

With each passing sentence, Rodin's tone grew more apologetic and uncertain. At the end, he backed one hesitant step away from Aerith as he motioned for Marcellus to take over. Meanwhile, Marcellus had been glancing restlessly at their surroundings, as if expecting someone else to show up at any moment.

After a long, awkward pause, Marcellus reached a hand to scratch his cheek a few times, blushed, and said, "Aerith... First, I wanna apologize. I said some awful things to you. I shouldn't have been mad at you about using my sister's name, and I shouldn't have called you a thief. I was a stupid kid, always angry at everyone and everything. Can you ever forgive me?"

Aerith did her best to smile. "All ancient history. Anyway, it's nice to see you looking so well."

Marcellus's face lit up. "Yeah! I am doing well! And I owe it all to you. That day I got chased out to the sector gate and ran into the monster... Well, I thought I was a goner. But just when I was sure it was all over, I had this weird dream about you showing up to save me.

"At least, for a long time, I thought it was a dream. I knew there was no way you'd be out wandering the edge of the Sector 6 slums. You were supposed to be safe at home in Sector 5. And even if you had been near the gate that day, you wouldn't have wanted to help me after the way I'd treated you. So it didn't make sense for it be anything but a dream."

He hesitated before continuing. "Still, it felt so real. And then, the other day when I was talking with Carlo, he happened to mention that you were the one who knew where to find me. Carlo himself couldn't really believe it, so he kept quiet about it for years."

Aerith tensed, unable to believe that Carlo had divulged her secret. Had he betrayed her after all?

Something told her it was better not to confirm or deny Marcellus's suspicions, or to give any answer whatsoever. She offered a weak smile and waited for the young man to continue.

"I started looking into it," Marcellus said. "I read everything I could find about visions and speaking with others across time and space, and I got to thinking, maybe our interaction that day had something to do with the lifestream. You know about the lifestream, right? It's supposed to be some kinda current inside the planet. A kind of spiritual energy."

"Oh. Huh."

Aerith did her best to feign ignorance.

"In fact, they say the lifestream's where we get mako energy from. What we're actually doing is─"

"Marcellus!" snapped the younger of their two female companions. "You know we're not allowed to talk bad about mako. I'll tell Dad on you."

Aerith had been so surprised to see Marcellus that she hadn't taken the time to look the two women over carefully. The girl who had spoken was no older than Aerith. As soon as their eyes met, Aerith knew at once who she must be.

"That's my brother for you," said the girl. "Once he starts talking, he never stops. Hey, Aerith. How have you been?"

"Good," Aerith replied. "It's nice to see you're looking well too. How's your dad?"

"Not great, but definitely better now that we're out of the slums. Until we moved, I never realized how smoggy it is down here. You wouldn't believe how fresh the air is up on the plate."

Aerith replied with a wan smile. Ronna hadn't changed much; she still had a way of making people feel bad without meaning to.

"And Carlo?" Aerith asked.

"Trying his best. He's staying on top of the business. Honestly, I wouldn't have thought he has what it takes to make it through something like the Sector 5 turf war, but he somehow managed to pull through."

"Turf war... ?"

The question left Ronna looking perplexed. "Do you seriously not know? I'm talking about the fighting, right after Dad retired and Carlo took over. Remember? Corneo's people swooped in, along with like a dozen others. Bunches of nobodies swarming Sector 5 hoping to stake a claim. By the time Carlo and his guys had driven them back, the streets were practically red with blood. Marvin, Roger, and Bauman all died in the fighting."

"What?!"

How could that be true? If there had been fighting in the sector, Aerith felt certain she would've seen it.

"Anyway," cut in Rodin, "that's all over now. The family business is safe. The other groups went back to where they came from."

He glanced around nervously and added, "We done here? You two got to speak with Aerith, and that means I've kept my promise. If you've got more to say, you can write her a letter."

"Elmyra will be back soon," ventured Aerith. "Won't you stay for tea?"

"Not a good idea. We're not authorized to be in the restricted zone. We really oughta get outta here."

"Restricted zone? What's that?"

"It stretches from here to the station," explained Marcellus. "Shinra set the boundaries when the turf war broke out. The zone was to remain conflict-free, and anyone who didn't abide by the rules... Well, let's just say Shinra promised to take care of them. So all sides steered well clear of the zone. It was the one thing everyone could agree on."

"What are they restricting people from?"

Her question seemed to astonish Ronna.

"What do you mean?" the girl demanded. "They're restricting access to you, duh!"

The comment sent Rodin's restlessness bubbling over into panic.

"Okay! That's it!" he declared. "I warned you two about saying too much. Now we really have to get out of here."

He hastily ushered his little group away from the edge of the Gainsborough property. As Marcellus passed Aerith, he promised to visit again soon, saying he'd really like to talk more about the mysterious events of the day he'd almost died. Aerith was careful to stick to a noncommittal response. Ronna invited her to come for a playdate up on the plate, and Aerith promised to discuss the possibility with Elmyra.

The group of four set off down the alley. But just before they turned the first bend, Rodin stopped and pointed to the fourth, unintroduced member.

"This is Amber," he said. "We're gonna get married soon. Give Elmyra the news for me, would you? Tell her I wish I could've made a proper introduction."

Amber remained silent. She stared at Aerith with narrowed eyes, and Aerith found herself wondering what she'd done to invite such obvious hostility. The woman certainly didn't seem familiar.

When Aerith returned home, she wandered over to a waist-high cabinet tucked in the back corner of the front room, on whose surface rested a single flower vase. She recalled that it used to seat a television and tried to think when the vase would have taken the TV's place.

When the memory returned, it prompted a small gasp.

It had been about a month after they'd cut all ties with Carlo and the family business. Elmyra had bumped into the cabinet while cleaning, sending the bulky TV crashing to the ground. She'd kept putting off purchasing a new one until finally it just never happened.

Was it a coincidence? Or was it one more subtle ploy to limit the amount of outside information making its way into their quiet household?

When Elmyra returned in the evening, Aerith told her of the encounter with Rodin and the others.

"Imagine that," her mother replied. "I haven't seen any of them in ages. Did they look well?"

The woman's expression, however, didn't quite match her words. She seemed guarded. Alarmed.

"Hey, Mom? Do you know anything about a turf war?" Aerith ventured. "And something called a restricted zone?"

Elmyra waved the questions off, clearly anxious to change the subject.

"I see they've been filling your head with stories," she said. "You and I live in a different world now. There's no reason for us to get worked up about the little details of Rodin and the rest of the family's lives."

"This house," Aerith repeated more firmly. "And this neighborhood. That's the restricted zone, right? And those boundaries were chosen because that's where I live and where I spend my day. That's why you made such a big deal of me not going far from home to look for work. You made a promise with Shinra, and now I have to stay in this cell they've set up for me."

Elmyra's eyes closed. She slowly shook her head from side to side.

"That's not how it went down at all. But can we please not talk about this right now? There was a crack in the water tank at the café today, and I had to spend all day mopping up."

More evasions. More excuses. More deceit. It set Aerith's blood boiling, and the next words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

"If work is so exhausting, just quit already," she snapped. "It never bothered you to take Shinra's money before. What's stopping you now?"

After she'd said it, she immediately turned away, unable to look at Elmyra and see the pain her words had caused. Everything following was a blur. She heard her own feet running up the stairs, and she heard the door to her room slam hard. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to think. She wished she could just disappear.

"I figured I'd finally crossed a line," admitted Aerith. "I really believed that was the end of my life in Sector 5, and the end of my time with Elmyra."

"But you were living with her when we met you," said Tifa. "So you must've made up. It all worked out in the end, right?"

After her outburst, the only thing Aerith could think about was how she needed to get away. She couldn't keep dragging Elmyra down forever.

Kneeling at the side of her bed, she dragged out the dusty old suitcase she and Elmyra had once packed for the proposed flight to Kalm. In the end, they'd never gone, and the suitcase had remained unused and forgotten under Aerith's bed.

She grabbed clothes from her dresser and crammed them inside, then carefully nestled her most treasured belonging among the fabric. And finally, after stuffing all the gil she'd saved up from her work at the House into one pocket, she lugged the suitcase downstairs and out of the house.

The darkness of the familiar alley gave way to the harsh streetlamps of the sector's main thoroughfare. A familiar shopkeep called out to her as she passed by.

"Hey, there, Aerith. What's got you out this time of night?"

Impulsively, she lied. "Just a quick trip to Sector 6."

"Oh, honey... Don't tell me you're thinking of─"

"Nothing like that," Aerith scrambled to say. "Nothing to do with Wall Market."

"Well, stay safe, all right? Elmyra'd be devastated if anything were to happen to you."

With a courteous farewell, Aerith left the neighbor behind. She continued down the main thoroughfare, reminded of her adventure with Ifalna so very long ago.

Which direction to the Sector 3 slums? her mother had asked the woman outside their freight car.

She'd even asked the station attendant who chased them down. Could you tell us the way to Sector 3?

Aerith recalled her surprise on discovering that they'd been heading in the opposite direction all along, and that her mother's requests were in fact a ruse to throw off any pursuit. It wasn't until after they spied the sign for Sector 5 that Ifalna gave any hint of where they were actually headed.

Thoughts of her and Ifalna's daring escape lifted her spirits, and her steps grew lighter and more confident. The walking and the thinking swept away the cloud of melancholy that had hung overhead since she set foot outside Elmyra's front doors. Aerith nodded decisively to herself that this was the right thing to do. This was the adventure she'd been meant to go on, its final leg left too long delayed.

The church, Aerith had heard, was more or less a straight shot from the Gainsborough home; all she had to do was head toward the station and keep going. It would take her well outside the restricted zone, and frankly, that suited her just fine.

The memories of Ifalna continued to flood back stronger and clearer every step of the way.

Tifa smiled knowingly. "That's how it goes after a big fight at home, isn't it? For a little while, it's like you've got all the confidence in the world."

"Exactly. You have to keep moving. You can't let yourself stop and think it over, because you know it'll all come undone."

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

"But this time, I saw the consequences. Because of me, someone ended up very badly hurt."

As soon as she'd made the confession, she could hear Tifa swallow nervously at her side.

When Aerith neared the station, a train had just pulled up to the platform. Judging by the time, it was the last one to wind its way down from the plate for the night.

She glanced at it only briefly, intending to walk by as quickly as possible. The Sector 5 Undercity Station was a piece of her adventure she could do without remembering. She didn't want to let her eyes sweep across that one particular stretch of road or that one particular portion at the base of the concrete platform. A part of her feared that if she did, she might still see her mother there, lying limp and burning with fever as her life prepared to slip away.

She was nearly across the plaza and safely out of sight when another thought struck.

Was she making a mistake?

From the moment she pulled out the suitcase, she had been framing the flight to herself as something positive, but maybe running away was in fact a horrible, hurtful thing to do. The gloom of that possibility sapped her excitement and determination, which suddenly seemed far more vulnerable than before.

Aerith saw that the restricted zone had existed not to keep her penned in but to keep her safe from harm. The moment she stepped beyond its borders, she'd be exposing herself to great peril. A huge, invisible wall seemed to rise at her feet, blocking the way forward. The bright lights of the station and its plaza begged her to stay, warning that the moment she trod beyond their reach, her future would be as dark and uncertain as the streets ahead.

A cautious, searching voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Aerith?"

She turned to find a man, impossibly big in both frame and features, standing with his back to the station. Large eyes. Large nose. Large mouth.

A gasp escaped Aerith, and the man continued. "I knew it was you. You're all grown up now, but I still knew. You're the spitting image of her. Of your mother, see?"

Faz. Aerith's mind raced. How was he here? Why? He still wore the massive white lab coat she remembered from her days in the Shinra Building. Did that mean... ?

"You've got the wrong person," she said, turning her head and quickly walking by.

She felt Faz lumber after her and knew she no longer had a choice: the dark streets beyond the station were the only way left open.

"Aerith, wait!" called the deep baritone. "It's not what you think!"

In truth, she wasn't sure what she thought. All she knew was that she wasn't about to stop and find out.

As she half walked, half jogged along the cluttered, pitch-black dirt road, her mind frantically worked through the possibilities. It occurred to her that Faz could be furious. He might be nursing a years-old grudge, ever since Ifalna used him to secure their escape and promptly abandoned him once free.

The thought of trusting him or even stopping to engage in conversation seemed absurd. Who knew what he might do if he caught her?

Meanwhile, Aerith's knowledge of the route to the church had been tenuous to begin with. Faz's pursuit, coupled with the dark of night, certainly wasn't helping. After a while, she looked about and realized she had no idea where she was or whether the church was still ahead. The street had narrowed to a small, lonely footpath, surrounded on each side by mountains upon mountains of scrap.

The sight of the rusted metal sparked a flicker of hope, and she called out into the night, "Jean? X? Are you there?!"

Her cries garnered no reply. Suddenly, the hope seemed silly. Even if this was the scrapyard the boys picked from, there was no way they'd be out working so late at night. Still, she called again, desperate to locate anyone else so as not to find herself alone with Faz.

Aerith's next step planted against something lumpy and soft. It threw her balance, sending her pitching forward. Her suitcase landed against the hard dirt with a heavy thud and a crack, as if the handle had partially broken loose.

Aerith groaned in pain, turning and feeling with her hands along the ground to identify the object she'd stumbled over. When her fingers found it, the surface was spongy and covered in slime, and she shrieked with understanding. It was a monster carcass.

The creature was not long dead. Its remains emitted a faint, unidentifiable whooshing noise. Fluids oozed over the dirt, clinging to the bare skin of Aerith's legs and fingers and causing a faint tingling that seemed to build slowly and steadily to an awful burn.

"It's okay," sounded a deep voice. "It cannot hurt you."

She realized that Faz had caught up to her and now stood on the other side of the corpse.

Still sprawled on the ground, Aerith stared up at him, seeing him as she had as a girl of seven: an impossibly large figure that dominated her entire field of view.

The hem of her skirt had ridden up high, and she hastily pulled it back down to her calves. Slowly, carefully, she slid backward, away from Faz and the corpse, watching for her chance to pull herself upright and bolt.

"How could you be so cruel?" Faz demanded. "You had me sick with worry. I cried every day, imagining you and your mother living in the gutters, on the run from Shinra. I'd almost given up hope when Amber came to tell me she'd found you."

"Amber... ?" Aerith repeated the name, not comprehending.

Except, she had heard that name somewhere, just recently... Yes. The other woman in the group when Marcellus had come to visit. Rodin's fiancée. We're gonna get married soon, he'd said.

She recalled how the woman had glared at her. Now it seemed she was connected to Faz in some way. But how?

Faz picked up on the confusion in Aerith's expression.

"You don't remember Amber?" he said. "That's not very nice. She helped you. She was there to make sure you were safe, at the Sector 4 Undercity Station. Amber. My friend."

Aerith gasped. The grumpy woman in the baggy, filthy coveralls. The one who'd snapped at her and Ifalna and refused to help them down from the freight car. That was Amber.

"When she told me she'd found out where you were living, I came as quick as I could to Sector 5. And the timing was perfect. Can you believe it? Any later, and you'd have walked right past the station. I think it must have been Ifalna. She was watching over us, guiding us so we'd be in the right place at the right time."

Aerith slowly pulled herself to her feet, now certain that something was very wrong.

Faz, for his part, backed two steps away from her, as if to prove he meant no harm.

"Are you going to the church?" asked Faz.

"Huh? How... ?"

"The church. I told Ifalna about it once. She seemed very interested at first. I offered to take her someday, but suddenly her attitude changed. She said it was a horrible, vile place, and she'd never think of stepping foot inside. But after the two of you vanished, I was trying to think of any place you might've gone. That's when I remembered the church. I went to check it a few times, just in case. I prayed when I was there. I hoped maybe God would help me find you. But God didn't seem to hear, so I stopped visiting. I guess maybe there is no god."

A low growl interrupted Faz, and the big man turned ponderously to one side, examining the darkness.

"Monsters," he remarked. "It's not safe here. Especially not at night. We should go somewhere safe. The church isn't far. Wouldn't you like to see it? It's much closer than going back to the station."

Aerith tried to peer over Faz's shoulder, but she could no longer make out any light from the station plaza. If the lab assistant was telling the truth, she'd run much farther than she'd imagined.

"Maybe it would be better if I─"

"Oh, Aerith... I hope you're not saying I frighten you more than the monsters. Is that how you really feel?"

She nodded, seeing no point in trying to hide the truth. Surely he knew already. He'd seen the way she'd fled and how she edged away from him even now.

"What if I lead the way?" proposed Faz. "I'll walk ahead of you, and you can hang back as far as you like. But if any monsters come up from behind, we must run, you understand? Run for all you're worth. The neighborhood watch doesn't conduct any patrols at this time of night, and I'm not nearly good enough of a fighter to handle the monsters myself. Just because I am big does not mean that I am strong."

Faz offered a faint smile and trundled past Aerith in the direction of the church. She watched as the pale white slab of his back melted into the surrounding night.

He was right, and she'd known it immediately. She would never muster the courage to retrace her steps to the station now that she knew monsters were about. Luck had spared her any encounters on the way in, but that was no guarantee of good fortune on the way back. Her only choice was to follow Faz.

"Watch your step!" the big man called, already quite some distance away. "There's another dead monster up ahead. Fresh, just like the first one. It wouldn't be very pleasant to feel it squishing under your boots."

Faz had claimed that the church wasn't much farther. Perhaps, Aerith reflected, she should have been more skeptical. They'd been walking so long, it seemed almost a certainty that he'd hoped to trick her into following.

It wasn't until they'd passed the third monster corpse─fresh, just like the others─that she finally spied a large, mysterious structure emerging from the darkness.

"I wonder who killed them," Faz mused aloud as he lumbered up the dozen stone steps to the structure's heavy double doors.

Aerith had never seen another building like it. She craned her neck, trying to take in the full extent, but the two towers at its front stretched up and up, their tops obscured by the black of midnight. They appeared to taper slightly, perhaps ending in spires, and Aerith wondered just how high they went, and how they might look in the daytime.

The doors creaked and groaned as Faz pulled with all his weight. When they were at last open, he slipped inside, beckoning for Aerith to follow.

Aerith cautiously climbed the steps. At the top, she was greeted by a familiar, sweet smell wafting through the now-open doors. The inside of the church was darker still, but she could just make out the wood slats at her feet, and there was a pale, mysterious glow coming from an uneven patch of floor at the far end of the chapel.

"Flowers," Faz explained, as if he'd known precisely where her eyes were focused. "They bloom right here, in the middle of the church. God or no god, this place must be very special."

Much as she hated to agree with anything the man said, the remark seemed accurate. Flowers were a rare sight in the slums, so any place they took root was a location quite worthy of note.

When Aerith took her first hesitant step into the chapel, she found herself enveloped with the same lovely fragrance that hung about the Gainsborough garden. The joy was laced with guilt, however, as Aerith began to think again of Elmyra; was her mother still asleep, or had she already discovered Aerith's flight? Perhaps she was searching the neighborhood streets at that very moment, terrified for her daughter's safety. Perhaps she was rushing to the Wall Market, tipped off by the neighbor Aerith had encountered.

"You should try to get some sleep on one of the pews up here, near the flowers," said Faz, interrupting her thoughts. "I will go wait by the doors until morning comes."

"Thank you," she murmured warily.

Sleep was the furthest thing from Aerith's mind, but she nonetheless wandered deeper into the church, settling down on one pew nearest the small, glowing patch of yellow flowers. A slow, quiet sigh escaped her lips, and for the first time in hours, Aerith's muscles relaxed, freed from the constant, insidious tension that had plagued her since afternoon. For a moment, it seemed like she might actually doze off, and she scrambled for some line of thought to keep herself awake.

How would things have gone if Ifalna had lived? If the adventure had gone as planned, and Aerith and her mother had made it to the church that day, how would their lives have played out? Would Ifalna have found a job to support them? What kind of work had she had in mind? How had she planned to cope when she herself admitted to having no understanding of the outside world?

Would the two have remained happy as Aerith grew? Or would they have bickered and fought? Perhaps every relationship between mother and daughter came with its share of bumps, whether tied by blood or not.

"Aerith?" Faz's deep baritone called. He sounded to be at the other end of the church, just as promised.

"What is it?"

"I still have the house. The one in Sector 3. Everything's exactly as it was. I kept paying the rent on it so it would always be ready."

"Oh. I see."

"Wouldn't you like to live there with me?"

Hoping she'd misinterpreted, Aerith chirped, "You mean... just the two of us? You and me living together?"

Faz didn't respond.

She called out his name and nervously got to her feet. When Faz finally did reply, she flinched at how close he now sounded. She turned to find him standing just behind her pew.

"Yes," he rumbled. "We'll finally be together, my love. My dear Ifalna..."

He chuckled softly, eyes staring blankly ahead. One giant hand reached out to Aerith, and he repeated, "Come, Ifalna. Let's go there now."

The thick, sweaty fingers were nearly upon her. Aerith panicked. She grabbed her suitcase, intending to flee, but before her feet would respond, Faz had already clamped down on her arm.

"Let go!" she screamed.

She whirled her free arm with all her weight behind it. The heavy suitcase slammed into Faz's cheek. The force of the blow snapped the already damaged handle, sending the body of the suitcase spinning off into the darkness. Stunned, Faz released his grip and retreated a few steps.

"How could you be so cruel?" he cried, but Aerith was already running, weaving between pews and down the aisle toward the exit. Faz vaulted himself over a pew and gave chase, surprisingly nimble for his size.

"Wait!" he called after her. "Ifalna!"

Aerith had no intention of hearing him out. Her feet scrambled over the rotting old wood panels. The church's imposing doors hung ajar. There were only a few more steps to safety. She had to get away, and...

And then what?

Surely Faz knew how to find Elmyra's home. Amber would have told him. Which meant that even if Aerith managed to navigate the pitch-black slums and return safely, it would only be a matter of time before Faz reappeared, armed with some plan to drag her away.

She refused to live in fear forever, or to put Elmyra in danger because of her own choices. She had to act. She had to do something. She needed a way to make sure Faz never found her...

Aerith burst into the dark, chilly night. She'd scrambled halfway down the stone steps when she saw someone else at the base and froze.

She couldn't believe it. How had Elmyra managed to find her?

The woman stood with one hand on a hip, dressed not in pajamas but rather her usual daytime attire, looking almost as if she knew Aerith had to be inside. Still, as her daughter descended the steps, her face flashed momentary surprise, followed by relief and what seemed a dozen other emotions. Finally, it hardened, firm and unyielding, and she barked, "Aerith. Move aside."

Aerith complied automatically, glancing back as she did so. Faz had emerged from the doors as well and was lumbering toward her.

On noticing Elmyra's silhouette, he demanded, "Who's that? Who's with you?"

The words had barely left his mouth before Elmyra's other hand whipped out to one side, fingers tight around some sort of weapon. It was hard to make out in the poor light, but Elmyra swung it hard, connecting with Faz's neck and sending the man to the ground with a deep cry of pain and a heavy thud.

When Aerith finally processed the nature of the weapon, she was stunned anew. Apparently, Elmyra had been scouring the sector for her runaway daughter with nothing but a broom in hand.

As usual, the woman didn't waste any words. There wasn't a single question about the man she'd just downed or why he was with Aerith at the church. Elmyra simply remarked, "Time for us to be getting home?"

"Yeah."

"Not forgetting anything?"

Aerith gasped. The suitcase! She recalled how it had gone flying off its handle.

Elmyra crossed her arms at her chest and said, "Whatever it is, you better hurry up and find it."

Aerith nodded. "I'll be right back."

She hurried up the steps and into the deeper dark of the church. She approached the flower bed, turning in slow circles, straining her eyes until finally she spotted the suitcase. The clasps had come undone, leaving the contents scattered about. Aerith scooped up armfuls of clothing, stuffing them back into the suitcase. But no matter how carefully she scoured the area, the one thing that truly mattered was nowhere to be found: the small cloth bag from her mother, with the white materia inside.

"What's taking so long?" an irritated Elmyra called from the entrance.

"My materia. I can't find my materia!"

She heard the woman mutter, "Oh, for goodness' sake..."

But a moment later, Elmyra was also crouched near the pews, assisting in the search.

"It's in a little pouch made of cloth," Aerith explained.

"I know."

Despite her panic, Aerith couldn't help but smile. Every achievement she was proud of, every concern she'd grappled with, every detail of her life─Elmyra knew it all.

Still, the fact that her mother had known to come to the church was baffling. As Aerith's hands continued to feel their way along the wood floor, she asked, "How did you know I was here?"

"Wish I could tell you."

"Huh?"

"The second you left the house, I was hopping out of bed to give chase. But just as I got to the garden and I was racking my brain about places you might go, an image came to mind, clear as day. I saw the church at the edge of the slums, and I knew that was where you'd be."

"How... ?"

"Like I say, it just floated into mind. Not that that's anything new. I've lost count of how many eerie experiences I've had ever since you showed up. And since I knew right where I needed to be, I figured I could spare a minute to go back, get dressed, and grab something to use in case I ran into anything I needed to wallop."

"And out of all your options, you went with a broom?"

"I'm not saying I was thinking with a perfectly clear head. But it did the job, didn't it?"

Elmyra pointed just beyond Aerith's shoulder and said, "Look."

Aerith followed Elmyra's finger back to the center of the flower bed, where the plants seemed to have grown even denser over the past few moments. Aerith scanned the spaces among the petals, eventually catching sight of the supple fabric of Ifalna's pouch.

Carefully parting the flowers so as not to step on any, Aerith tiptoed in just far enough to scoop up the pouch and examine its contents. Ifalna's materia was safe inside. And, though it may have only been Aerith's imagination, its soft, reassuring glow seemed a little brighter than usual.

Aerith carefully retreated from the flower bed, intending to announce to Elmyra that she was ready to head home. But when she turned, her breath caught.

Elmyra sat on the front-most pew, head bowed, eyes closed, hands clasped against her chest in prayer.

When Elmyra again opened her eyes, she noticed Aerith's stare, and her cheeks flushed slightly.

"I used to offer thanks like this, back when I was a girl," she explained.

"Offering thanks," repeated Aerith. "Is that different from praying?"

"It is today."

"Who'd you offer thanks to?"

"Whoever it was that told me where to find you."

Elmyra smiled just briefly. Then she was up on her feet, walking down the aisle toward the doors and calling, "Come on. Let's get you back home."

"Mom?"

"What is it?"

"I'm hungry."

Elmyra snorted. "Don't push your luck. You might think everything's hunky-dory again, but as soon as we get home, I'm giving you a piece of my mind."

"Yes, ma'am."

Both mother and daughter were so relieved to be reunited, they'd let their guard down. And by the time Elmyra made it to the church's heavy doors, it was too late.

Faz stepped out of the shadow of one door, knocking Elmyra away with a single, mighty kick.

"Mom!" screamed Aerith.

She tried to run to her mother's side, but Faz was bearing down on her. She dodged past his reaching hands and scurried over to where Elmyra's broom lay on the floor. Now armed, Aerith turned and began to whack the large man's arms and chest. But just a few strokes in, the handle split.

Aerith dropped the splintered remains of her weapon, shuffling backward in terror.

"Over here!" her mother called.

She ran blindly to her mother's side, not noticing the pistol─Carlo's pistol─until it was up, clutched firmly in Elmyra's two hands and trained right on Faz.

The lab assistant froze, glaring at the weapon.

"One more step and I shoot," warned Elmyra.

"Why don't any of you understand?!" thundered the big man.

He again lurched forward, and Aerith heard the pistol's report, saw the smoke from the muzzle.

Two more shots followed, and then more, echoing through the chapel, overlapping one another until it was hard to say how many bullets had been fired. When the magazine was empty, the gunfire gave way to a string of dry, staccato clicks as Elmyra continued to pull the trigger in panic.

But Faz still lumbered toward them, seemingly unaffected. His white lab coat was streaked with dirt, but Aerith could see no sign of blood or gunshot wounds.

He muttered deliriously as he approached, saying "Ifalna... My Ifalna..." over and over again.

Elmyra's features twisted. She glared at the pistol, denouncing it a worthless hunk of junk. She flung the weapon itself at Faz, only for it to sail well above the big man's head.

"Mom!" Aerith shouted. "Just run! We have to─"

A concussive burst of noise cut her short, so loud and sharp it seemed to rupture the surrounding air. She couldn't understand what had happened until she turned her eyes back to Faz.

The big man had fallen to his knees, right hand clasped tight against his left shoulder, where a large and growing patch of red had formed on his white coat. Aerith realized he'd been shot but couldn't understand how or by whom. Aerith glanced up and down the walls and aisles of the church but spotted no one else.

"Let's go," Elmyra repeated, strangely calm given what had just occurred.

Faz finally collapsed, hitting the wood floor with such force, Aerith could feel it jerk beneath her boots.

She looked at him, fear replaced by pity, and mumbled, "I'm sorry..."

"Come on, Aerith. Hurry."

Elmyra set off at a brisk pace, stooping once to pick up the two halves of her broken broom.

Aerith murmured one final apology to Faz and scurried after, the broken suitcase clutched in her arms.

"Mom?" she asked. "Where did that bullet come from? Who shot Faz?"

"I don't know, but I can guess."

Elmyra shook her head and added, "It looks like the restricted zone just got a little bit bigger."

Understanding dawned, and Aerith scanned her eyes up and down the chapel once more, this time looking for crisp jet-black suits. She decided that tonight, just this once, a word of thanks might be in order.

"Ever see that Faz guy again?" Tifa asked with obvious concern.

"No, but there are times when I think I do─and I freeze up... till I realize it's someone else."

"I bet."

Even all these years later, Aerith's perception of Faz still wavered, stuck somewhere between horror and sympathy. She knew she did not want to see him again. But she also recognized that his fate was inextricably tied back to her actions and Ifalna's, and she'd begun to wonder if the only way to free herself from that tangled knot of emotions was to face the man once more. She wondered if the opportunity would ever come, and if so, what form it might take.

"I'm here if you wanna talk," Tifa added quietly.

Aerith was grateful, as always, for this particular companion's warm, thoughtful acceptance. It was easy to speak of her past when Tifa was the one listening.

"Well, actually," Aerith announced, already certain of the next thing she wanted to share. "I was kinda hoping we could talk business."

"Uh... What kind of business?"

"You know. Business." Aerith paused and then added, "Boys."

"Oh, that kind."

A clang of metal interrupted their conversation. Both women checked that their helmets were on tight and quickly ran their eyes over their disguises. Next, they glanced at each other, each woman holding an index finger to her lips with a whispered "Shh!"

Heavy footsteps wound their way through the hold, passing along the far side of the tall stack of cargo next to which Aerith and Tifa stood.

Tifa silently slipped to the edge of the stack, ready to pounce on the intruder whenever he rounded the corner.

Seconds ticked by. Aerith's chest burned, and she realized she'd been holding her breath.

The footsteps came to a halt. Then the familiar voice of Cloud Strife called out, "It's me."

Tifa's face flooded with obvious relief. After a moment, she said in a playful tone, "Meeting adjourned─for now."

Just as she did so, Cloud rounded the corner, his own Shinra helmet cradled in one arm. He glanced at the two women, and his confused "Hm?" prompted smiles and stifled laughter from both Tifa and Aerith.