The Sister Ray groaned and squealed to life, the huge machines whirring as they strained to get into position. Rufus watched as the gun readied itself for fire, the distant lights flickering against the backdrop of Midgar's gloomy skies. Gigantic wheels along the sides of the weapon turned back and forth, adjusting and aligning, everything preparing for the blast. Rufus heard Scarlet and Heidegger calculating softly over the intercoms behind him, and a commotion of noise in the background, as employees scrambled to ready the weapon.

Then came the reactors. First the No. 1, with a sudden burst of white smoke to the sky. Then, in succession, came the second, third, fourth, all the way to the eighth. Each spewed out to the heavens, a mighty roar coming from all directions, surrounding the city. Midgar quaked as the power surged around it, the power of the Planet being drawn through the surface and coming with a fearful scream to the city. Mako churned, buildings shook, and for a brief instant, Rufus wondered if perhaps the strain was too great, that the Sister Ray would be unable to handle such a concentrated force. Not in one blast.. The entire city would crumble to the ground.

But before he could even flinch, a spark shot through to the Sister Ray, followed by another, and another, until the pipes connecting reactor to weapon were glowing with white-hot energy as the Planet drew itself to one source. All the power it could muster was balling into the barrel of this cannon, preparing for the one final blow that would throw all of its weight into the sickness festering inside of it.

Slowly, one by one, the lights of Midgar winked out as their energy was drained into the Sister Ray. Sector by sector, Rufus watched as Midgar was immersed into darkness. And then the lights in his own building were snuffed. There was silence.

He stood transfixed, unable to say a word, an expectant hush falling over everything. The computer screens behind him were dead, the lights drained of their power. He was immersed in black, the only lightness in the white trenchcoat he wore. His city lay below him, silent, in wait. Nothing stirred.

A faint singing reached his ears, a song he swore was coming from all directions, but there was no time to think. Before his eyes, a faint glow appeared, culminating at the end of the Sister Ray. Slowly, the lights swirled and danced, a wind whipping through the streets and surrounding the end of the gun like a fierce tornado. Rufus pressed closer to the window and stared at the bright blue light that had begun to gather. Pure Mako, the energy of the Planet. It reflected in his own blue eyes, the brightness illuminating the office around him, casting light on the dingy streets of Midgar.

/This is it,/ Rufus knew. /Now or.../

With a scream, the Sister Ray fired, the shock reverberating through the Shinra building as it smashed itself into its foundation. Earth trembled, as steel scaffolding fell to the ground and Rufus saw the windows to the lower levels of the Shinra building shatter with a deafening crash, to hurtle down into the streets. He was knocked off balance for an instant, but regained his footing and remained as poised as a statue, watching as the bright blue Mako shells faded into the distance and were gone, the dreams of Shinra Inc., and the entire Planet, riding along behind.

Rufus mustered a weak grin and brushed back his hair, waiting confidently for confirmation, for a voice, anything, to tell him what was going to happen. He felt his heart beating wildly, a surge of nervousness and hope flowing through him. So far, everything was successful. If Scarlet's calculations were correct, then...

The intercom behind him crackled to life, fueled by an emergancy generator. "Sir! Weapon's been defeated!" an operator announced, breaking into his reverie. The sound of relieved cheers echoed deep in the background, as controllers and businessmen alike congratulated each other on their efforts. "The barrier of light at the Northern Crater has dissappeared. Your plan was a success!"

Yes. Rufus walked to his desk and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a relieved sigh. His eyes roving over the now-extinguished lights in his office, he slowly spread his face into a triumphant smirk. Shinra had won. He, Rufus Shinra, had won. All there was left to do was blast out whatever was in that crater, and if he was lucky, the extermination would Sephiroth would also destroy Meteor and the few remaining Weapons. He could feel success pulsing through him, the power in his hands and rushing to his head. He was one step away from freeing himself and this world from their doom. And then Rufus could *really* begin his reign...

But he knew what was coming, as soon as the operator hit the button a second time. Not a word was spoken, and Rufus knew. No more background noise, no more relieved cheers. Behind the anxious voice was dead silence, an end to the celebrating. Fear quaked the operator's voice. "Sir... sir, there's a mass of high density energy moving towards Midgar..." And he knew.

/Oh no/, Rufus thought. /No. It can't be./ He slowly lowered his head and whirled around, staring blankly over the horizon to where Weapon once stood. /Oh, hell, no./

Where Weapon had fallen, there was now a faint glow, coming ever swiftly towards him, red balls of flame shooting through the night. Slowly, the light grew brighter, until each missle was visible against the night sky, a deep orange fire burning in each one. They loomed ominously towards him, promising death, destruction, redemption for the fallen Weapon. They were all coming straight towards Midgar. Rufus didn't move, standing rooted in place by some unknown force, dignity and pride too strong to allow him to turn and run. There was no escape, anyway. He knew that. He knew it painfully well. He saw it coming, with every flickering explosion shooting past him, and he knew.

/Oh, no, I was so close,/ he thought, pulling himself to his full height and staring stonily out the window. /I was so close to having it all. The Planet and the Promised Land, it all lay at my fingertips./ Something nearly smashed itself into his office, but narrowly missed, giving the room a sudden burst of energy, like an electric shock. /There is so much I could have done. So much I still have to do. So much.../ He brushed back his hair, flicking back the few stray locks that hung over his eyes. His trademark, the arrogant habit of his that sent his businessmen cowering. /So much I *will* do.../

Something exploded to his right, as one of the reactors had been hit. But he didn't flinch, didn't turn his gaze. /It can't be over, not now,/ he told himself wildly. /Not now. It simply can't. I'll never give in. I'll never bleed, I'll never break./

He stared at the oncoming ball of fire with all his years of anger, hatred, arrogance, bitterness, flashing in his eyes. /It can't be over... Not *now*..../

He witnessed every second of its arrival, until all of a sudden there was a great heat, an explosion of glass and metal, and a deafening roar in his ears. He recovered his senses and blindly dove to the side, but by then it was too late.

For a long moment, it seemed as though the world was on fire. He covered his head and bit his lip, feeling the pain and shock sear through him, the agony, the pure, deep agony. And, even before the screams had faded, everything slowly faded away until it all went black.

And in the blackness, there was silence.

Bugah waited, unmoving, but Rufus didn't lift his gaze from his hands, resting on the table in front of him. The boy was wrestling something in his mind, involved in a mental struggle that Bugah respected without words. Instead he merely watched and waited, giving Rufus the space and time he needed.

"That's it." Rufus sighed lowly and lowered his head, appearing to allow all his energy to seep out of him at once. "That's all I can remember."

"That's plenty for today, if you wish," Bugah replied softly, reaching out a hand to rest on Rufus's strawberry blonde head. "We can-"

Rufus jerked away from Bugah's touch and let out his breath quickly and evenly. "I couldn't have survived."

"Perhaps not."

"No, you don't understand. You weren't there. I don't know if I died right away, but... But there was no escape. I knew I would die, I saw it coming. I was in an *explosion*. How could..." His voice trailed off feebly, one hand reaching up to flick back his bangs. "I just don't understand."

"Do you remember anything more?" Elder Bugah put his knarled hand on Rufus's head, his voice coaxing and kind. "Anything?"

"Well... there's something else there, but... I can't remember anything clearly." Rufus closed his eyes and traced his finger over the burn on his forehead, sighing. "And I'm starting to feel sick again."

"That's alright. We have plenty of time." Bugah smiled and nodded slowly, an expression that was starting to annoy Rufus immensely. "Whenever you're ready, you can tell me more."

"Alright." He sat and stared down at the table, listening to the Elder get to his feet with a few muffled gasps, then looked up and handed him his walking stick. Bugah smiled in thanks.

"It seems that I haven't been able to stay as young and healthy as Bugenhagen could," he chuckled half to Rufus and half to himself. "I'm only a fraction of his age and more than twice as old."

Rufus bit his lip and looked down at the table, nodding slowly. "Can I ask you a question, Elder?"

"Yes, yes, anything." He appeared somewhat surprised at Rufus's meekness, but put one palm on the table and leaned closer to him, face curious and intent. "Is there anything troubling you?"

"No. Nothing's troubling me. But what do you think has happened?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you *think* anything?" Rufus lifted his eyes to the old man's, voice half dispair, half need. "There must be some kind of... of hypothesis you've drawn. Maybe some conclusion. From what they've told you."

"Perhaps something is troubling you," Bugah murmered.

"Nothing's troubling me. I just want to know." Rufus scowled at him. "Just tell me."

"I think," Bugah replied, straighting and gazing somewhat coldly down at Rufus, "that many things have changed for you. You have a lot to get used to. And you're without all your power now. I think that troubles you."

Rufus turned away. "Forget it."

"I see."

"No, forget it, really. If you're not going to answer my question, then good night."

"I think the Planet meant for that to happen."

Rufus paused, then turned his head slowly, his Mako eyes glowing in the shadows cast by the candle. "What?"

"The Planet meant for you to lose your power. You had too much. You started to become bigger than it. And now you're without it, it's all a great punishment."

/Punishment./ It struck him like a blow. He stared in shock for a moment, then his face clouded with rage. "Forget it, old man, you don't even understand."

Bugah's eyebrows went up. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Leave me alone." Rufus's voice was no-nonsense, no questions. Bugah did as he was told, shuffling quickly out of the room and leaving Rufus alone in the bar.

He stared numbly at the wall, cursing himself for losing his composure, cursing himself and the Planet for everything that had happened. Bugah didn't know anything. None of them did, and yet they wouldn't leave him be, and wouldn't stop forcing upon him their damned notions of how he was supposed to die, how he had to die, how he should have died. He had, but he hadn't. He had lost everything, and he was all alone. But they didn't care.

/Oh, well,/ he told himself bitterly, drawing himself to his normal posture, back straight and head held high. /Neither do I./

But he did. He had been telling himself that all his life, he didn't care. He didn't care when his father was murdered, he didn't care when Meteor threatened to end the world, he didn't care when he was young and spending all his time alone while his father was off running the company. He didn't care about being alone. Because he had whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, and people to look up to him and power, huge power, waiting for him. But now he cared. He cared immensely now. It was all gone, everything, and he couldn't get it back. And something else had happened. Mako eyes. Where had he gotten Mako eyes? He couldn't think.

"Mr Shinra?" The bartender's voice drew him out of his thoughts, causing Rufus to look up and gaze at the other man with glazed eyes. "Sir?"

"Yes?" he muttered. "What do you want?"

"No, I was just wondering if you would like anything to drink." The bartender smiled uncomfortably, shifting under the glare that was slowly returning to the glowing blue eyes opposite him. "Our special this week is called 'Lifestream'. It's very good."

"Lifestream?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, sir. This is a bar after all. I thought you might want one. You sort of looked like you could use a drink."

"No, that's alright." He looked down at the table, a wash of self-pity coming over him. So maybe he *did* worry. Maybe something was troubling him. Lifestream. The Lifestream that was inside of him, mixing with his blood, flowing through his veins. The very fact that he was alive. His dreams at night, the strange visions he had, all with the same voice, speaking with him. Or the dreams where he saw himself, saw where he had been, and barely realized what had happened since then. So much had happened. Too much.

He closed his eyes and rested his chin on the table, sighing drearily to himself. The bartender shrugged and turned away, ignoring the boy once more, letting him while away his time surrounded with the flickers of candlelight. Rufus didn't care anymore, needing time to himself, needing room to breathe. And as of right then, he had nowhere to go.

Vincent kept walking though it was deep midnight, his blood red eyes taking in every detail as though it were high noon. His heightened senses were a curse in some ways, but a boon in others. As was the fact that he no longer required more than a few minutes of sleep a day. And the fact that he would never grow old, never age.

But if he had the choice, he would have rather have none of these things in return for his former life.

It hadn't been normal before he'd met Lucrecia and Hojo, not at all, with his less-than-honorable operations as a prime member of the Turks. He'd spent many a sleepless night then, too, sacrificing everything he had for his job, murdering to the point where it was a habit, an odd hobby of his. He had become less and less human long before Hojo had arrived. Hojo had simply sped up the process, giving him the ability to never change, never wither with age, but simply stay the same his entire life. Hojo had removed all weaknesses from him - age, emotion, change, and given in return an unending string of days filled with torture and nightmares. And there was still no redemption in sight for him. He hadn't even begun to atone.

There was something else driving him now. More than his own redemption, he needed to see her once more. Lucrecia. He had risked and lost everything for her, though it wasn't so easy as all of that. Whatever he had done, it had been done too late. He had stood by and witnessed Hojo's doings long enough, enough to give him the time and space needed to create the monster that was Sephiroth. No, as far as Vincent was concerned, he had failed himself. Himself, and Lucrecia. Which was why he couldn't consider himself forgiven until he saw her face again.

But it was a fruitless search. Her waterfall dwelling was empty. She had abandoned it after she had heard Sephiroth was dead, leaving behind her the Death Penalty and a document by Hojo instructing him on how to summon the Chaos beast. He had found it later, when he returned the last time before fighting her son, Sephiroth. He had no idea where she had gone after Meteor was destroyed, but he would not rest until he could find her. If she was still alive, he vowed he would follow her to the ends of the Earth. Such was his obsession, stronger than any hatred he had ever felt, deeper than any emotion he might have formerly had. Hojo had left him only this weakness.

Two days of constant walking had brought him to Nibelheim, his limbs crying out in weariness, but his brain refusing to let himself succumb to exhaustion. His cape fluttering behind him, he looked around, at the stars shining brightly over the well in the center of town, the unlit windows everywhere. He hadn't been back here since Jenova had been destroyed. Was this a ghost town?

He walked towards the Shinra mansion, the looming building at the far end of town, its blackness hard to discern beneath the deep navy of the sky. Even to Vincent, it appeared like a spectre, a ghostly apparition, that could vanish if one got too close. But Vincent knew it was more than that. Much more.

A door was thrown open loudly behind him, and an old man's voice called out. "Stranger! What brings you to Nibelheim?"

Vincent turned and regarded the man evenly. He was standing in the doorway of the Inn, frantically rubbing the sleep from his eyes to see Vincent. A townsperson, he thought, that probably saw him walking past the doorway and wanted to know what he was doing at such an ungodly hour.

"I'm passing through," Vincent said evenly. "Thank you."

The man paused. "Hey, are you a vampire or something? Why aren't ya asleep?"

"Why aren't you?" Vincent replied softly, turning back in his previous direction. He started walking, ignoring the man spluttering behind him and the few muffled curses.

"Damn wierdest nightmare I've ever had..." Vincent heard him say as he slammed the door of the Inn shut. The rectangle of light that had been cast through the doorway was extinguished, and it was pitch black once more.

/No,/ Vincent thought to himself. /He has no idea what a real nightmare is./

There has to be. You don't understand, I've been through this already. There's always a way to talk yourself out of everything. My father taught me that when I was five.

/Your father couldn't talk himself out of death. And neither could you./

Then why am I here?

/You're past death. You have to answer to the planet now... We need you./

Who's 'we'?

/We need you./

Yes... Everybody needs me. Isn't that it? I've always been needed, ever since I became Vice President. No, before that. They needed me at ceremonies, they needed me at business functions. They needed my signature. They needed my opinion. But it's not me they needed, it was... It was just my power, my status. If I suddenly lost everything, no one would have any qualms about stabbing me in the back.

/And here you are without your power./

Yes. Here I am.

/I'm sorry. It's the only way.../

I just have to watch my back...

/It's too late, Rufus. But you've been given something else now./

It's never too late.

/You've made too many enemies. But we need you now./

.... No, no, wait. Who is this 'we'?

/Rufus.../

Who are you?

Answer me!!!

/Destroy Jenova.../

She regarded him silently a few moments, before deciding to leave him alone with his thoughts and retire to her hotel room. But before she could make a move to leave, he squeezed his eyes shut and gave a small shiver, his shoulders tensing beneath his white coat. She watched, puzzled, as he slowly opened his eyes and blinked wearily a few moments, before his vision once again re-focused on the world around him. And her.

He slowly brought himself to a more dignified posture and folded his hands on the table in front of him. "Miss Lockheart."

"Hey, Rufus." She smiled at him weakly, trying to soothe away the glimmer of mistrust in his eyes. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Be my guest." His voice was neither accepting nor angry, but deadpanned and flat. It wasn't obvious whether he wanted her to sit there or not. Tifa knew that this obscurity was probably all done on purpose.

"So, Rufus, how long have you been here?" she queried lightly, glancing over her shoulder at the bartender. "Are the drinks good?"

"I don't know, I can't say I've had anything yet," he responded dully.

"So why are you here?" She didn't think Rufus would be much of an alcoholic, but if he was sitting in a bar, she didn't understand why he hadn't even ordered anything. She had a lot of experience with bars, having owned one herself, and it was rare to see a patron who didn't drink. "I mean-"

"No, no, I'm alright. I just... got distracted. If you would like something, go right ahead. I'm just not thirsty."

"Oh, um, alright. If you insist." She nodded at him, grinning weakly, but didn't so much as look at the bartender. "So what brings you down here?"

"I was talking with Elder Bugah," Rufus replied simply. "Mostly about... about the events of several weeks ago."

"How'd it go?"

"Alright. I don't think he knows anything at all about what's happened, but I can't blame him." A smirk spread across his face, a smirk that was the terror of Shinra employees alike. Strangely, Tifa didn't find it to be sinister, or even cold. "I'm not even quite sure, myself. And I lived through it... in a matter of speaking."

Tifa frowned at him. "You honestly believe that you were dead, Rufus? I mean, that's... that's a pretty big assumption to be making. You can't just-"

Rufus's forehead knitted together in a scowl. "How many times do I have to explain, *you don't know*. It happened to me, I alone know what it was like. I was... I was in the Lifestream, I know that. I don't quite remember what happened there, but..." He broke off and turned his head away, squinting into space. "I just *know*. I can't explain to you."

"I'm sorry." She bit her lower lip and lowered her gaze to the table. "But you can't blame me if I don't believe you."

"Why wouldn't you believe me?"

She paused, unsure of how to answer, shooting an uneasy glance at him. He was listening patiently for an answer, a condenscending look on his face, as though she were a student being quizzed. Why couldn't she trust Rufus Shinra. "Well... you know... because... It's just-"

"Oh, I know." He flashed her a disarming smile and gave his hair a confident sweep. "Because I am who I am, or because of who I used to be, I can never be trusted again. You probably think I'm an arrogant, selfish brat, and you're probably right. But that didn't used to matter, you see, because before I had *power*. Before, I was dominating everyone, and for no reason besides that I could. Now, I can't anymore, I'm just like everybody else, and yet I will forever be that selfish Shinra bastard with too much power." He fisted one hand on the table and cocked an eyebrow at her bemused expression. "Is that why?"

She shook her head adamantly. "No, not at all, but-"

"Then why not?"

Tifa stopped, completely at a loss for words. "Well... Well, for God's sake, Rufus, can you blame me?"

"No, I can't." He smiled sarcastically at her and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Because that's the same excuse everyone else will use. I can't blame you anymore. All the blame rests on me."

She felt her eyes warm, anger and frustration boiling inside of her. Rufus Shinra, self-absorbed to the bitter end. "Oh, *excuse* me if I blame you for being a domineering jerk, after you tried to execute me and my friends," she countered hotly. "Were you expecting me to forgive you?"

He shrugged. "No."

"Alright." She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, annoyed. "Geez, I stick up for you against Barret, and this is the thanks I get."

"You should have known, Miss Lockheart," Rufus asserted evenly. "I give no favors."

"So you can take all you want and not give anything in return? Don't you... don't you ever feel guilty about that?"

"No. Not especially."

"You should."

"I know." He nodded slowly, shrugging dismissively. "I really should, shouldn't I."

Tifa shook her head at him disgustedly, a frown deepening on her face. "How do you live with yourself?"

He laughed darkly, a sudden, weak smile breaking across his features. "I didn't. That's why I'm now in Cosmo Canyon."

"Huh?" His humour was completely lost on her.

He leaned back, shoulders shaking in quiet inner mirth. Rufus started laughing softly, holding a hand to his face, as though shielding his smile from the world. He had a very elegant laugh, clipped and softened to an almost calculated degree. "I *didn't* live with myself. I died, remember?"

"What? Oh... *Oh!* I see. Yeah." She laughed dryly along, more to appease him than anything else. "Sure. I get it."

"Forgive me, forgive me, it's been a rough few weeks," Rufus gasped, calming himself and returning to the prim posture of a very well-taught son. "You wouldn't believe the stress that comes after you die."

A smile played across her face, real this time. "At least you've got a sense of humour about it."

"Don't be too impressed. According to the common masses, my idea of stress relief is to burn several small villages. If I want to spend some time with the rest of my family, I invite my father along."

"What about your mother?"

He paused, the smirk fading from his face. "Mother?"

"Yes, your mother? Was she like you and your father? I mean, what'd she say when-"

"I didn't have a mother." His voice was completely emotionless.

She stopped, feeling her heart slowly, slowly, sink down to her feet. "Ohh.... I'm sorry. What do you mean, you didn't have a mother? Were-"

"I... I had a governess." He swept a hand back through his hair and let a flicker of nameless emotion through the Mako glow in his eyes. But, immediately as it showed itself, it was snuffed out by something else, a hard mask falling over his face. "I don't know anything about my mother, and I doubt she knows anything about me."

"Oh. Geez. Sorry to bring it up."

"Twenty one years ago, it happened, so it's not that big of a deal. I honestly don't care. I kind of wish my father had followed suit, to tell you the truth."

She shuddered. "That's a horrible thing to say!"

The corner of his mouth curled in a smirk. "Oh, honestly. The former President of Shinra. You knew what he was like."

"But he's your father!"

"He was my President. Nothing more." Rufus shook his head, shrugging dispassionately. "We had a mutual respect. At times."

She stared dumbly at the table, feeling like an idiot for bringing up so sensitive a subject. She knew he wouldn't show it, he wouldn't drop the mask no longer how hard she tried to pry it from him, but it was obvious in the way his voice had a distasteful edge to it. He didn't like the subject at all.

"So," he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice had lost the hardness and was instead strangely calm. "If there's nothing else, I hope you'll excuse me."

"Hmm?" She looked at him with eyebrows raised, trying to appear sympathetic, or at least vaguely concerned. "You're going to your room?"

"Yes. I'm tired..." He rubbed one temple and smiled wanly. "As I said, it's been a rough few weeks."

"Alright." She watched as he got to his feet slowly, smoothing his long white trenchcoat and flicking some imaginary dirt off the sleeve. "I guess I'll see you in the morning, Rufus?"

"Perhaps." His voice told her how thrilled he was at the prospect, which was not very. But before she had a chance to say anything, he gave her a respectful nod goodbye and turned quickly on one heel. He strode up the stairs without looking back, the hem of his coat trailing behind him and gathering dust from the red canyon walls. Tifa sat, watching him, until he had dissappeared through a doorway and was gone.