Notes: Thanks to Lisa and Kaze for plot help! And thanks to Kaze for the past chapter's help too, including the concept of the paintings and the idea of the message in blood. The first scene in this chapter is what originally inspired the story, courtesy of the theme Senza (I'm lost without; can't do without) at 18Coda.

Chapter Three

We'll Meet Again Sometime

Vincent frowned as he looked over the room. Police officers were everywhere, as they had been for the last few hours. The actual people varied, as some were searching the city while others were still combing the house for clues. Then the ones who had been out would come back and others would leave.

Of course the same was true of Vincent himself and those he knew. He was just coming back to see if there were any new leads, after having scoured a section of the city without any success. And as his crimson gaze swept the room, he finally saw Cloud at the very back. He was slumped in a chair, propping himself up on an elbow as he ran a hand through his blond spikes. His rumpled clothes and sunken eyes spoke of a night without sleep. He looked as if he was at the end of his rope.

That was how he had sounded on the phone hours before. Vincent had only heard him that despondent a handful of times, and it certainly attested to how he had changed in the last months. Where once he had claimed he wanted Sephiroth to stay away, or that he only cared for Zack's sake, now he wanted Sephiroth to return safe more than anything else. And it was obvious that he did not care solely because of Zack. Cloud had accepted it the previous autumn.

Now Vincent narrowed his eyes, weaving his way through the crowd to where Cloud was being half-swallowed by the soft chair. "Cloud," he greeted.

Cloud started and looked up. "Did you find anything?" he demanded.

Vincent shook his head. "You haven't slept," he stated.

"I can't sleep," Cloud retorted. "Zack and Angeal and the girls haven't slept, either. Sephiroth's life is at stake."

"How much longer can you go on like this?" Vincent's tone was quiet and unassuming, yet concerned.

"As long as I have to." Cloud tried to sit up more. "I don't have any right to rest."

It would be useless to try to convince him otherwise, and that was not Vincent's style to begin with. He could sense that something deeper was bothering Cloud.

". . . The police don't know anything about this creep." Cloud leaned forward, staring at the floor. "It's like he came out of nowhere just to hurt Sephiroth."

"They're wondering if there's some other meaning to the message he left on Sephiroth's shirt," Vincent said.

Cloud nodded. "Zack wondered that, too. We were trying to figure out what it could be, but unless Sephiroth's being held hostage in a clock shop it doesn't make sense."

"Could there be some other meaning that's related to clocks? Such as a street name?"

"There's that, too." Cloud straightened up in the chair. "We've been checking out all the streets that could be it. I just got back from going up and down a block with a police officer."

Vincent mulled over the matter. "What about the suicide note?" he suggested. "Was there anything in it that could be a secret code?"

"I don't know." Cloud looked sickened by the mention of the note. "Maybe the 'good luck and goodbye' has some other meaning. Or maybe nothing means anything except to torture us!" His voice gained an edge.

Vincent remained quiet now. If he did not speak, Cloud might feel comfortable enough to reveal what else was concerning him. That was how their relationship was, in general; Cloud would discuss things with him that he did not want to talk about with the others. And Vincent would listen, offering advice or giving subtle comments to make Cloud think and discern the solution on his own.

". . . When we found that note, I didn't believe Sephiroth had written it." Cloud was gazing at the floor again. ". . . But I couldn't help wondering if he had. I hate thinking it about him. He's not that kind of person! And yet I just keep thinking that if he was, and we just didn't know or see it, I'd never forgive myself if he . . ."

He trailed off, at last raising his tortured eyes to meet Vincent's. "Zack and Angeal just flat-out wouldn't believe he wrote it. But I still had that lingering doubt. It makes me feel like I'm a bad friend."

Vincent frowned. "Why weren't you able to believe it?" he asked.

"I don't know." Cloud forced his hair out of his eyes. "I just knew he'd need a lot of help if he really felt that way. And I'd want him to get it if he needed it."

"Then weren't you only wanting the best for him?" Vincent deduced.

"I guess. . . ." Cloud frowned. "It just feels more like I was betraying him than anything else."

Vincent crossed his arms. "Have you spoken of this with Zack?"

"Of course not!" Cloud exclaimed. "He's heartbroken and worried enough without me adding to it. Do you really think I'd put that on him?"

"No," Vincent agreed. "Not unless he noticed and persisted in asking."

"He noticed," Cloud mumbled, "when I slipped up and said 'if' the psycho had written the note. But I brushed it off and just said we didn't really know he was involved. And it was true. That was before we found the shirt. . . ." He sank further into the chair. "That changed everything. Sephiroth would never do something like that. Even when he was nuts, I don't think he . . ." He trailed off, making a face. "Just listen to me, rambling on about Sephiroth's integrity."

Vincent's expression did not change. "Friendship goes a long way in changing viewpoints."

"Heh. . . ." A weary sigh escaped Cloud's lips. "I don't know what was the matter with me a few months ago," he muttered, "when I thought Sephiroth had been pretending to be good just to torture me. He never could be something he wasn't. And he never tried, either. He always felt it was beneath him."

He started to straighten up again. "If we can't save him, I don't know what'll happen. Well . . . Zack probably wouldn't be able to get over it. And I don't know how Angeal would act." He leaned forward. ". . . I don't know how I would, either. Just that I'd blame myself and hate myself some more." Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he began to push himself up. Vincent stepped back to allow him his space.

Now Cloud met the other's crimson gaze. "I know I don't want him back so bad just because of Zack, or even because I'd blame myself," he said, and averted his gaze again. "I . . . I'd miss him like crazy. And not knowing anything about where he is right now, or if he's even alive . . . I already miss him."

Vincent gave a slow, nonjudgemental nod. Knowing Cloud, he would feel tremendously embarrassed when all was said and done, and he would hate that he had been so vocal. But this was the best for him.

Sure enough, Cloud turned red, as if suddenly realizing what he had blurted. "I sound like such an idiot," he muttered, going past Vincent. "I can't believe I just said that."

Vincent followed him to the nearest officer, still keeping silent. The policewoman turned as they approached, hearing their footsteps.

"I'm going to go out again," Cloud announced. "Who's going to leave soon?" He would just as soon not go with any police, really, but cooperating with them was the easiest way to get anywhere. And of course he did not want to do anything that might draw further attention to himself and the others. There was already the concern that something would be learned that should have stayed secret.

"I am," the woman responded in her slight Spanish accent. "But Mr. Strife, you don't look like you're in any condition to do anything except sleep."

"I'm fine," Cloud grumbled, the edge coming back into his voice. "Finding Sephiroth is the most important thing."

"To keel over in the middle of the search will not help Mr. Sephiroth," the officer said.

"I've gone longer than this without sleep," Cloud said, in a tone that meant the conversation was ending. "Let's go."

Vincent stepped forward. "How much of the city has been covered by now?" he asked. An interruption would be good. And it was a question for which he wanted to have the answer anyway.

She walked to a chart that had been posted on the wall. "These sectors have been searched extensively," she said, indicating markers at varying parts of the middle and upper class neighborhoods. "We are going by the assumption that this man has somehow gained a good deal of money, perhaps on the black market. In the kitchen, the fridge is empty. And it's completely new." She looked back to him. "Someone in need could not possibly go to these lengths in order to give an illusion of an occupied home."

Cloud nodded his assent. "But the poorer places are being checked too," he said, looking to Vincent. "Zack and Angeal are there somewhere." He clenched a fist. "The guy might not even be in the city!"

"That's why we have an all-points bulletin for the entire county," said the policewoman. Vincent was getting the impression that she was a very no-nonsense sort.

"Isn't there anything else we can do?!" Cloud demanded.

She gave him a hard look. "Not unless we can learn more about this person," she said. "There are not any other records of his existence. He is likely using more than one name."

"There could be a common thread linking the names," Vincent said. "If this is all a game and he wants to lead you on a chase, his other pseudonyms might also be connected to murder."

Cloud's eyes widened. "I need to get in touch with Zack and see if he's had any luck," he said. "And if he hasn't, I should tell him about this." He looked to the officer. "Do a search and see if there's anyone else around here with weird names like that!" he instructed.

She looked displeased at being given an order by a civilian. But she gave a curt nod. "It could take a while," she said. "And I may need people on hand who are proficient in other languages."

"Start with Japanese and go from there," Cloud retorted.

At that moment his cellphone rang. He grabbed it out of his pocket in the next instant. Maybe that was Zack now, calling to check in . . . or even to say that Sephiroth had been found. But the caller ID revealed a new mystery. It was not Zack at all. And whoever it was did not want to be known. All that the ID could say was "Private Name."

He unfolded the device, holding it to his ear. "Hello?" Somewhere in his mind he was aware that his tone was less than congenial. Even he, shy as he was during normal times, had a breaking point. He did not know how much more he could stand.

An electronically disguised voice laughed in his ear. "Time is running out to save your dear friend," it purred.

Cloud's eyes widened. Fire flashed through the blue orbs. This must be Hideki Hitokiri, or whatever his real name really was! It would have to be either him or a lackey, and this person sounded creepy enough to be the top dog.

"Where is he?" he demanded, his voice steady but furious. To his side, Vincent came to attention.

"You haven't figured it out yet?" A clucking sound. "If you don't find him in time, I think I'll leave the body on your doorstep."

It was hard to keep his emotions in control. "How much time have we got?" His voice was a knife cutting through the tense air.

"Oh . . . probably only until the Earth completes its current rotation. Hmm. . . . Or is it a little more or less than that?"

The mock confusion sent Cloud's already-frayed nerves into pieces. "Don't play games!" he snapped.

"Playing games is what I do best!" was the mocking reply. "I'm going to call dear Commander Fair next."

Again Cloud was stunned. "Commander . . . ?!" he repeated. He looked to Vincent in stunned shock. Did this person know about their past on Gaia? Of course the possibility had been considered, but realizing it was the truth was still surprising.

He came to attention as the policewoman stepped forward, holding out a long cord. He took it, plugging its end into his phone without a word. She nodded, then walked back to the console that had been set up earlier. They had wondered if the person might contact someone, and they had prepared in case either the landline or a cellphone was called.

The madman seemed not to know or care that his location was now being traced. "Commander Fair always was a fool, caring so deeply for someone like Sephiroth," he sneered. "But then Shinra people did stick together, didn't they, after they branched off into their own little groups."

"Shut up." Cloud's voice was cold. "We're going to find Sephiroth in time and we're going to bring you down, too."

A cackle. "By all means, try! I would hate to think that SOLDIER and AVALANCHE are losing their touch. But did you really stop Meteor? Or was the story twisted around to make you look so wonderful and skilled when you aren't?"

Cloud's eyes narrowed. That was not even something that needed to be answered. But hopefully the police were not hearing this, or if they were, maybe they would just think it was some kind of unimportant in-joke. It would be very awkward if he had to try to explain without revealing the full truth, especially when he had other, more critical things on his mind.

"You've got too much time on your hands, to set up all of this just to hurt Sephiroth." It was the first thing he could think of to say. Right now he was just stalling until the police could finish tracing the other's location. Otherwise he would just hang up. The guy was not going to tell him anything that he wanted to hear.

"Completely destroying him and his friends is the only thing that matters anymore. Someone such as you could never understand."

No, Cloud really couldn't. Even when he had snapped and his past hatred for Sephiroth had spilled out, he had not been consumed by a desire to see Sephiroth die. During the fight on the roof, he had wanted to beat Sephiroth, but even now he was not sure what he had planned would come after that. The thought that he could have been filled with so much rage that he would have wanted to kill Sephiroth horrified him. After Sephiroth had saved him when he had slipped and fallen over the edge of the roof, he had begun to change--though he had refused to acknowledge it for some time.

"What did Sephiroth do to you that made you hate him so much?" he asked. This was agonizing, trying to keep the creep on the line holding a conversation that he wanted to end. But he could not be impatient. This could be the only way to save Sephiroth.

"What didn't he do?" was the venomous retort. "He took everything from me and left me to rot in a prison! Dying would have been a better fate."

"You should've done it, then," Cloud muttered crossly.

Another laugh. "But then I wouldn't have been able to plot my revenge! For years the thought of it kept me alive and fighting, until at last I was free and ready to begin the assault! I've been watching him for such a long time now."

"Yeah, now you've lost whatever mind you had," Cloud snapped.

"Blame Sephiroth!" the madman cried. "Everything has been his fault."

Cloud gripped the phone tighter, his knuckles going white. "Yeah, say that all you want," he said, "but it sounds like it's your own fault." He knew all about blaming Sephiroth for what had gone wrong. And deep down he had really blamed himself. Sephiroth may have caused many of the tragedies in the past, but Cloud had not been able to stop him, either--not until damage had already been done. And Cloud had not been able to forgive himself for that. It had just been easier to pass the blame and hatred onto his former enemy . . . or so he had thought. It had not worked. He had only poisoned himself with his feelings and had hurt all around him.

Now a vile curse echoed through the phone. Cloud, already having heard all manner of profanity from Cid, did not flinch.

The policewoman abruptly turned, looking to him. She gave a sharp nod, indicating the success of their attempt. Several officers began to stand. The woman mouthed "Keep him on the line" to Cloud.

A wave of frustration passed through him. Would he have to stay behind just talking to this creep, so that his location could continue to be monitored? And so that he might less likely realize that the police were going to come to where he was? Actually, he might be more suspicious if Cloud kept hanging on the line.

"Look, don't you have anything important to say?" Cloud asked.

"Not to you!" was the response. "It's been such fun, but now it's time to call Commander Fair. I may be able to get an even more . . . emotional reaction from him." With that there was a click.

Cloud made a face, pulling the cord out of his phone and tossing it onto the top of the console. "I can't tell whether he was just tired of talking to me or if he realized what I was doing," he said. He folded up his phone again, placing it in his pocket. "Let's go."

"There's a chance he will call back," the officer frowned in disapproval.

"I don't think so," Cloud said. "At least not for a while."

Vincent nodded. "There wouldn't be any reason for him to call right back." He headed for the door.

Cloud followed, not bothering to look back and see what the policewoman thought of it. Now he was seething all the more. The guy was a bigger nutcase than he had even thought. And what did he mean by Sephiroth only having until the Earth finished its rotation? His stomach knotted. To give such a precise amount of time, was the creep altogether controlling Sephiroth's infirmities? Could he really determine when Sephiroth would die? Was he planning to kill him then, or had the time already been determined by something else . . . like poison?

"Cloud."

He glanced over at Vincent, his eyes questioning.

"We'll find him."

Cloud looked away. "Yeah . . ." he mumbled, pushing open the door, "but what condition will he be in?"

Vincent did not have an answer for that. Cloud had voiced his own thoughts. He was certain that they would find Sephiroth--but that did not mean that there would be a happy ending.

Green eyes slowly opened, blinking the sleepiness away as they studied the scenery. All that was in view was what looked like a wooden furniture leg and the bottom of a gray metal filing cabinet. A grunt escaped Sephiroth's throat as the full situation began to be processed.

The carpet was pressing against his cheek. He was level with the floor. How had that happened?

He pushed himself to his knees, his hands and arms trembling. Had he swooned? He remembered growing dizzy when he had entered this office on the first floor. Going down the stairs had taken away a lot of the strength he had had left, and he had tried to search other rooms before coming to this one. He had half-stumbled across it before losing his balance. Obviously he was getting worse.

What about the vials? Were they secure? His captor's earlier, taunting remarks were echoing in his mind again, of what would happen if the vials broke. Balancing himself with one hand, he began to feel over his pockets with the other. From what he could tell, the small glass containers were undamaged. He had not fallen directly on top of them.

But another time he might not be so lucky. Telling himself it would not happen again would be foolish. Under these circumstances, he could pass out a second time, and he might as more time slipped away from him. He needed somewhere safe to put the vials where he could get them in an instant.

And yet, where would that be? If he did not keep them on his person, he needed a bag or a case in which to put them, so that he could carry them around with him. He would not trust himself to be separated from them. He might not be able to get back to them if he needed. Or, if he was not alone in this house, they might be taken from his hiding place and concealed elsewhere.

As long as he was still on the floor, he might as well look in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. He reached out with his free hand, easing open the drawer as it creaked and growled in protest. Inside were five file folders, none of them appearing especially full.

He pawed through them, his hand still shaking a bit as he went. All of them were empty. He frowned, leaning in closer. There was something written on the tab of each folder, which indicated at first that there had been documents within them. But his eyes quickly narrowed with the realization of the truth.

The first was marked "Autopsy Report." The second, "Death Certificate." And the other three had equally pleasant labels.

He slammed the drawer shut. He was being mocked again. But more than that, he was being shown how much this someone wanted him dead. If the intention was to frighten him, it was not working. He was more disgusted than anything else.

Grasping the handle of the next drawer up, he struggled to kneel in a straighter position as he slid the contents into view. This time the drawer was vacant, save for what looked like a spiderweb that had been started. He closed the drawer in annoyance.

Now he reached up, taking hold of the edge of the desk. He could pull himself up by supporting his weight on it. Behind him, his silver hair swished as he struggled to get his legs to cooperate. They felt wobbly and unwilling to work. But at last he was standing. A sigh escaped his lips as he looked back to the filing cabinet. There were three drawers left.

Out of those three, only one had anything else in it. He blinked in surprise as he opened the top compartment a few moments later and found two empty vials inside. They rolled slightly from the force of the movement, clinking against the metal walls and each other. Then they came to a rest.

Again the frown crossed his features. Was he being mocked further? Or were these something he needed to take, for some reason?

It would be better not to question it. He removed the blank containers, placing them in his pocket.

Above the filing cabinet was another painting. This one depicted a man in the shadows, holding two cups and filling each with a substance. Blue and red gems glittered on the cups.

Sephiroth frowned at it. Was he supposed to pour the contents of the red and blue vials into the empty ones? What would be the purpose of that? Was there a substance in the new containers, perhaps not visible and just coating the inside? If so, that could be the antidote. Or it could be another poison. And it might mean nothing at all. This was becoming more confusing with each painting he found.

It was also all the more disconcerting. Each painting was in the style of a Renaissance artist. They were filled with meticulous detail. Had the madman painted them himself or had he commissioned others? Either way, it showed all the more how much thought and effort had been put into this plan.

Now he turned to better survey the office. But there was not much to see. The desk held only a greenish table lamp with fluorescent light, a stapler, blank paper, and a pen. Still, there were several drawers in it as well. Each one should be searched. Slowly he moved forward, sinking into the chair with relief. Maybe this would ease some of the pressure from his head and the dizziness would fully leave him.

Several moments later he leaned back in irritation. Every one of the compartments in the desk were empty, save for a condescending note in the bottom drawer on the right.

Better luck next time!

If there is one.

He ran a hand over his face. The ill feelings had not subsided, either. Apparently they would linger for the remainder of this farce. And at some point he might collapse again, this time never to rise. He might slip into unconsciousness and then death.

Behind his hand, his frown darkened. Was this anything like the poison Zack had been given many years before? There had been approximately the same amount of time for him. And he had been able to move about at first, even though later he had grown dizzy and delirious and had then been unconscious for the majority of the day. If Sephiroth had not been with him, and no one else had been there to help him, he would not have survived.

He was not delirious--at least not yet--but maybe if this poison did have an odd number of hours to take effect--such as twenty-seven--it would not work in exactly the same way. That did not mean it could not be similar, or even created by the same people. His captor could be a former Wutaian spy or terrorist, for all he would know.

And of course, throughout his search he had been bothered by the chiming of a clock somewhere in the house. He always knew when fifteen minutes had passed, because it would be announced. He had been trying to listen for what each new hour began, since that would indicate how much time he had left, but the last hour he recalled hearing was two in the afternoon. It was surely past that now. How long had he been laying on the floor? Surely not more than a few minutes, or he likely would not have awakened at all.

He removed his hand from his eyes. He had rested long enough. He could not linger more, hoping that the dizziness would go away. He would have to take a chance on leaving the room. If it continued to grow worse, he might have to resign himself to crawling. At least then the vials might not be in as much danger of shattering should he collapse again.

But it was a last resort method. Knowing he was being watched made the thought of crawling even more abhorrent. He did not want to give this madman any more satisfaction from his misery.

Placing his hands on the edge of the desk for support once more, he forced himself to stand. The dizziness rushed back. He shut his eyes, gritting his teeth against the agony.

This would all be over soon, one way or the other. Either the antidote would be found and he would live . . . or he would not find it and he would die.

Or it did not exist in the first place.

A grim smirk passed over his features. Such encouraging thoughts would not help much for most other people. Yet being sarcastic somehow did help him cope at times.

He opened his eyes again. The room was staying still, at least. He turned, taking several steps forward.

What were Zack, Cloud, and Angeal doing? Had they searched the majority of the city by now? Was he even anywhere in or near the city? For that matter, was he still in the state? There was no telling how long he had been unconscious before awakening in that bedroom.

He had to stay alive for them. The thought of them coming and discovering his dead body still haunted him to no end. He would not allow them to be hurt in that way. He would not!

Whoever the person behind this happened to be, he would not have the last laugh.

Zack was beside himself. For the last hours he and Angeal and some police officers had been combing the bad part of the city, including the warehouses down at the docks. And only a few minutes before, he had received an outrageous call from the man responsible. But nothing of real value had been learned; it seemed that the creep had just wanted to taunt him for a while. And Zack had not been able to keep his cool, either. He should have, but instead he had completely snapped and yelled at the guy for torturing poor Seph. He had only received a cruel cackle and a mocking "I expected such a reaction from the devoted Commander Fair."

At least the people around here were friendly. Some local teenagers, eighteen or so, had heard about the citywide search and had offered to help. They had been gratefully accepted. Zack had spoken with two of them since then, but they had not had any luck, either.

"But we'll keep lookin', don't worry!" one with messy blond hair had reassured, giving a thumbs-up sign.

"That's right!" a brown-haired girl had nodded. "He'll be found and everything will be okay."

Zack had to keep believing that. He would go crazy if he didn't. But the call from the mastermind had not helped.

"What time is it now?" he demanded of Angeal, shoving his cellphone into his pocket.

"It's almost four." Angeal was grim as he checked his watch.

He had managed, or hoped he had managed, to keep the extent of his worry inside. The last thing he wanted was to make Zack more worried by showing the increasing panic he was feeling. If he could not stay calm, Zack might become fearful that Angeal found the situation hopeless.

Angeal was not certain what he found it, actually--other than inhuman, treacherous, and abominable. Of course he was not giving up hope yet, and he would not unless Sephiroth was found dead, but it was seeming so bleak. If the person wanted Sephiroth to be located, he either was not helping things along or else his clues were so well-hidden that no one could decipher them.

Both of them started as Zack's phone rang again.

"Maybe this time it's good news," Zack said as he took it out. The caller ID screen displayed Cloud's name and number. Quickly Zack unfolded the phone and held it to his ear.

"Zack?"

"Cloud! What's up?" Zack ran his tongue over his lips. "That creep actually had the nerve to call me!"

Cloud grunted in annoyance. "Yeah, he called here too, and said he was going to call you. I was hoping to call first and warn you, but the line was busy when I tried."

"Guess he didn't waste any time." The bitterness had slipped into Zack's tone, but it faded with his next query. "Are you having any luck there?"

"Well, we traced the call," Cloud reported, "and we're going to the place where the signal was coming from. But who knows if we'll find him or Sephiroth. Maybe we'll end up with some more bloodied clothes."

Zack was walking back to the police van as they talked. "Where is it?" he asked. "Me and Angeal'll come right there!"

Cloud gave him the address. "It's some really fancy private neighborhood," he reported. "You know, the kind with all the dumb rules about keeping up your yard and stuff."

"Yeah." Zack nodded. "I know where it is. We've passed it sometimes when we're trying to not get caught up in rush hour traffic, right?"

"I think so. We're halfway there now."

"We'll catch up!" Zack said, his voice firm. "But if you find anything before we do, call and let us know!"

"Right. Okay, we'll see you in a few minutes."

Suddenly thinking of something else, Zack asked, "Have you let the girls know yet? And Cid and Barret?"

There had been exclamations of shock from Cid and Barret when they had been asked to join in a search for Sephiroth. But there had been equally indignant and outraged declarations when they had been told of the circumstances. And they had both said that of course they would do everything they could to bring down that "blankety-blank" no good devil and get Sephiroth back safe. They did not like Sephiroth a great deal, but they knew Cloud and the others did. And in any case, whether or not they liked him was irrelevant in the face of this cruelty.

"Yeah," Cloud answered now. "I called them while I was waiting for your line to free up."

Zack opened the door of the van and climbed in. "How're the kids taking all this?" he wanted to know. His gaze followed Angeal as the older man went to the other side and opened that door. The police officers, having seen them going back, were coming back as well.

"Marlene's still upset that she can't help look," Cloud reported.

Zack gave a weak grin. "Poor kid. Can't have her getting into danger too." He could hear Angeal telling the police officers what was going on and where they needed to go. Apparently he had heard Cloud's side of the conversation as well as Zack's, and that was all the better anyway, so Zack would not need to take time explaining. He grabbed the seatbelt with one hand, pulling it down.

It was touching, really--how devoted Marlene had become to Sephiroth. She had been shy of him at first, not knowing what to think of a man who had been so out of his mind that he had intended to destroy what he had believed was an entire corrupted planet. And she had been upset and angry that he had killed Aerith. But she had swiftly come to see that the sane Sephiroth was not the same man who had done those things, and that he was aching because of his past crimes. And she had begun to love him. Sephiroth was usually amazed and uncomfortable by this, since he believed he was undeserving of such idolization. But Marlene was not deterred. She thought of him as an uncle figure.

Cloud was continuing. "And Denzel . . . he didn't really say much." Denzel was very aloof around Sephiroth, even cold, and every now and then he was actually hostile. Cloud worried about him, especially since he feared that he himself had been a bad influence. He had been very vocal with his irrational and unkind opinions on Sephiroth from several months past. Denzel had no doubt been deeply affected by it. Cloud wondered at times if it was a mistake that could never be rectified. It would sicken him if that was so, particularly if it would have been different had he not given in to his dark feelings.

"Yeah. . . ." Zack bit his lip. He was concerned about Denzel, too. But that was also a problem that would need to wait.

"Well, we're heading off now," he reported. "How far along are you?"

"We're just passing through the gate," Cloud said. "But you know how these places are. It's going to take forever to find the right street. Everything winds everywhere."

"No kidding!" In spite of himself, his mind began to wander. He could remember a time when he, Seph, Cloud, and Angeal had all journeyed to one of those private neighborhoods to investigate some land for sale. It had taken close to an hour before they had even discovered the correct spot. Everyone had been frustrated before the excursion had ended.

The weak grin returned. ". . . Hey, Cloud?"

"What?"

Zack watched the scenery fly past the car window. "Remember when we all got lost in one of those places?"

Cloud snorted. "How could I forget? It was around Christmastime, and you kept pointing out all the decorations and lights saying you wanted to buy them for our place."

Zack snickered. "Yep. . . ." He gave a sad sigh. "I wish we were going to some crazy meeting like that right now."

"Yeah . . . I wish that, too."

Cloud was not able to help the tired and sad tones that slipped into his voice. And hearing them only made a larger lump sneak into Zack's throat.

"Ugh, I forgot," Cloud grumbled then. "Vincent had an idea that maybe this guy is using several fake names, all connected with death or killing or something. I was going to run it past you and then I didn't think of it again until just now."

Zack blinked. "Hey, that might be true!" he exclaimed. "Are the police looking into that?"

"They are," Cloud said. "I told them to start with Japanese. Maybe Angeal could give some suggestions of stuff to look for?"

"I'll ask him!" Zack declared. "And you could find out what name was used to buy the house we're going to."

"Yeah. That should tell us something."

Suddenly there was a screeching of brakes. Zack turned pale as the sound continued, gradually diminishing to a halt. For an eternity there was silence. Had something else happened? Was Cloud hurt now, too? There had not been a crash, at least, so maybe he was still okay. He had to be!

"Oh God . . ."

Cloud's voice was tortured, almost sounding strangled. Zack had not thought it would be possible for his stomach to twist any more than it already had, but now it was proving him wrong.

"Cloud?!" he cried. "What's wrong?! Are you hurt!?" He swallowed hard. "Do . . . do you see Seph?" He wanted to know the answer, and yet when it came right down to it, he was not sure if he could bear to hear it.

"I'm fine. . . ." The sound of a car door slammed. "I . . . we must've found the house. This police officer is driving and she had to throw on the brakes because there was something in the road . . ."

"Is it Seph?!" Zack wailed. At his side, Angeal tensed, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I . . . I thought it was at first." Cloud gripped the phone so tight it was in danger of breaking. "It's a dummy." His voice hardened without warning. "It's a dummy all dressed up to look like Sephiroth, with a long silver wig and dark pants. . . . Fake blood's everywhere. It's like some sick Halloween prank!"

"What?!" Now Zack's eyes were flashing with outrage. There were no words appropriate for this.

A strong hand came down on his shoulder. Angeal leaned forward, speaking into the phone. "We'll be there soon," he said, the anger obvious in his voice. "Be careful."

"We will be," Cloud answered, "but I'm getting the feeling the creep's run out on us again. He probably left this as a parting gift."

"I'll give him a parting gift," Zack threatened, at last finding his voice.

Cloud was silent for a moment. "And Zack?" Now he sounded even more disturbed than before.

"What now?" Zack demanded.

". . . I think these pants really might be Sephiroth's."

Zack gave a rare curse. "Then what's Seph wearing?!"

"I wish I knew." Cloud straightened up from the dummy, looking towards the house. Two officers who had run in first were now coming back out, both looking grim.

"There could be something we've missed," said the first, "but our preliminary check didn't find anyone inside."

Cloud clenched a fist. "That figures." The last remaining bit of hope he had held for this location crumbled.

It was hard to know whether he wanted to scream, cry, punch something, or all three.