FicWad

A/N: Square-Enix owns everything!
_________________________________________________________________
Chapter Two
_________________________________________________________________

He didn't realize he was conscious until he found he couldn't breathe.

With that his eyes shot open, only to be stung by saltwater. He was in the midst of being tossed about in the current, and for a moment he wondered if, after so long, the fate of his physical body would be left to a watery grave-As hers had been, he realized, with some bitterness. He could see glow of the Lifestream below him, slowly disappearing. How convenient-it's come to meet me. But then he saw the light above him, and, turning his body, made for the surface.

His head broke water. After wiping the salt and hair from his long unused eyes, he looked ahead and saw the shore a short distance away. He started to swim for it. Then realization struck him.

There was a massive army on the beach.

It was facing him.

Did they know--?

His thoughts were immediately cut off by a piercing, shrieking roar, and a shadow that quickly overcame him.

Turning, he saw a massive armored creature bearing down on him. It struck out toward the shore with an appendage. Unfortunately for him, both it, and the giant wave that it produced, just happened to come in his direction.

He was immediately thrown backward and underwater, cursing whatever god or demigoddess that had put him in his current position. Probably her. She's probably laughing at me right now. He fought to break the surface of the water, but was thrown onto the beach soon enough. Momentarily dazed, he blinked as the sounds of battle surrounded him. The screams, of soldiers, of chocobos, of steel and artillery-it seemed familiar somehow. A past life, he realized. Reassured at the feeling of firm sand under his body, he moved to stand.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

It was the voice of a soldier above him-a woman?-on a chocobo, no less. She had narrowly halted her mount from trampling him.

"This is no time for loitering! Ready your weapon and regroup with Captain Elma's detach-"

Her words were cut off when both she and her mount were toppled by a battery of ovoid projectiles that had apparently been launched from the colossus. He ducked, and when he looked again to the rider she was dead.

In fact, that seemed to be the theme of his entire surroundings. All around him, bodies covered the ground. More were dropping as they fought the beasts that emerged from what he now new the projectiles to be: pods. As he watched the scene, he realized they resembled shadow creepers. Interesting.... As he began to muse upon this discovery, he became aware that several of these beasts were moving towards him. Quickly.

He smiled a half smile. This would be fun.

He dropped to the ground and seized the fallen rider's weapon, a double-edged longsword. He distinctly noted the lack of materia. No wonder they're dying. What were these fools thinking? No matter. He rolled away from the attack of the first two and struck at the third. The force of the blow downed it instantly. He lunched for the rider less chocobo and mounted it easily, maneuvering it back and around, flanking the first two of the beasts. He dispatched them in a flurry of bladework honed from years of practice. The fourth caught him unawares-That's unusual ow ow OWW-and buried its teeth into his sword arm as he buried the sword itself to the hilt in the creature's gut. The force of the beast's attack, however, was enough to dismount him from the large yellow bird. He retrieved the blade with his right hand and clutched his arm. There were five left. He shifted the weapon to his off hand. That was incredibly careless. How unlike me. He drew the sword up in and arc and turning, brought the blade down in one swift motion, his hair streaming behind him. Unfortunately, the force of the blow connecting with the flesh of the second opponent broke the blade. Fuck. He rolled and was scanning the ground for another weapon when the remaining three creatures burst into flames.

Frowning at having his entertainment cut short-he always did feel so alive when he was fighting-he turned and regarded his saviors.

He was, for lack of a better term, surprised at what he saw. For the first time since his arrival on the shore, he noticed the significant lack of modern technology. No armored vehicles, no automatic weapons. Don't these people have guns? The "modern" weapons they did have, however, appeared to be rusted and patched together from mismatched parts. They appeared antiquated to say the least, though if he looked hard enough he could see the influences of ShinRa technology present.

The people in front of him, as well as those around him, were another story. They were not dressed in the usual garb of the military: in place of camouflage and combat boots stood persons garbed in simple metal amour accented with brightly colored underclothes. And, he was surprised to see, that was almost a literal representation: others of the living as well as the dead wore next to nothing for protection nor garment. The exception seemed to be those who currently stood in front of him. Two women dressed in long, if not revealing, clothing. The Second, following The First, was most assuredly the caster of the flames: dressed in a long, charcoal leather dress that suited her form. Her hair was dark and long, but tied into braids that fell from a gathering on her head. Not bad. She regarded him warily.

He was somewhat aware of the chaos around him as The First woman approached him. She was dressed in a dark, flowered skirt, bound by a wide obi tied into a bow at her back. She wore a blouse that was obviously designed to be worn in warmer weather, and long, flowing sleeves that reached the hem of her dress when her arms were lowered. She had warm brown hair, and a penetrating gaze. She seemed familiar, somehow. Her eyes, dual colored, were not quite right, though.

"Are you all right?" She placed a hand on his injured arm.

"He can take care of himself. We should hurry, it isn't safe here." Her companion apparently, was less than thrilled at the gesture.

"Just a minute-I'll be quick." Before he could protest, she closed her eyes. A whitish green aura enveloped her hand, passing healing light over his wound. His instinct told him to recoil. His need for information suppressed that. She finished and looked into his eyes, which suddenly bore recognition. His widened in response. Hers bore one of curiosity, of one just about to realize something.

And then the cannon fired.

The resounding boom shook them both out of their reverie. He hadn't noticed it until that moment: the craggy rocks, the rusted metal sitting on the precipice, in what looked to be an old fortress. He had known it to have been relocated to Midgar, but it looked like it had finally made its way home. To its death, apparently, as the great beast -a Weapon?­- appeared momentarily stunned. Its armor had been breeched, but was quickly reformed. And it was apparently not happy. Its head reared, and he knew that it was about to counterattack.

"GET DOWN!"

He grabbed the two women and threw both them and himself to the ground as the force of its attack washed over them. When it had passed, the three looked toward the spot where the cannon had been.

"Well," he ruefully grinned, "So much for the Sister Ray."

"What?" The First looked at him half curiously, half fearful.

As his eyes looked back to her he noticed something hidden down the back of her blouse: a long braid, bound entirely in pink ribbon.

Curious.

The Second noted his lingering gaze and placed her arm protectively around The First, drawing her in. She briefly regarded her, then spoke. "He's soaking wet. He's been too close to Sin." The Second looked toward the man, then to the beast.

"Madam, you don't know the half of it."

He helped the other two rise. "Well, it seems we haven't been properly introduced." He looked pointedly at The First, a small smile on his face. "Though I'm sure we two have met before."

The First woman blinked, then blushed. He was quite handsome. First Tidus, then Lord Seymour. And now attractive, long haired swordsmen. Damn it. She sighed. If only the Summoner's path wasn't such a dead-end career.

"I'm afraid that will have to wait for another time."

All turned as the owner of a gravelly, baritone voice walked towards them, sword over his shoulder. His arm was held in the sleeve of his coat-No, robes are more accurate-while he peered out from under the rims of silver glasses. He reached the three quickly. Others appeared to be waiting for them, pensive, in the distance.

"Sinspawn has been found down the shore. Maester Seymour has been Summoning from the precipice, where Sin attacked as well. That leaves us for the front lines. You are needed, Lady Yuna."

"Right!" She nodded and began to head in the direction the traveled swordsman indicated. She paused and, turning to her female friend, spoke something to her in a language he couldn't understand.

"E drehg ra'c Al Bhed. Ra'mm vummuf sa. Ghulg res uid, ev oui lyh, Lulu."

Her eyes darted to those of the silver haired man, who held her gaze. Blushing, she suddenly turned and ran toward the opposite end of the beach. He moved to follow her, and was halted by the voice of the traveled swordsman as he made to pass him.

"Your services, however, are not."

He halted mid step. He turned his head, his narrowed gaze meeting the traveled man's slowly and with marked intent. He saw himself reflected in the man's mirrored glasses. He noticed that his eyes were still mako green, his pupils still slit like those of a cat.

"Really?" It was a statement more than a question, a rebuttal to an unspoken challenge.

"Really." It was a threat more than a statement, a confirmation that the challenge definitely stood.

The green-eyed man smirked. He liked the other's style.

Their posturing was interrupted by the impatient sigh of The Second, whom both men had forgotten was present. This fact was not lost upon her, which both realized would probably not do either of them good.

"I believe what Sir Auron means is that The Lady's guardians will protect her. You need not worry for the High Summoner's welfare. If the two of you are finished, then Sir Auron, we should hurry."

Had he implied he was concerned? He laughed. Instantly realizing his error, he spoke. "I would say The Lady's welfare is very much of interest...but a summoner, you say? I am not familiar with the term."

He looked to the direction the first woman had run. She met several others, who he realized must be the "High Summoner's" "guardians". One among them rushed to her as the "Sinspawn" was encountered sooner than expected. His eyes narrowed at the memory of her guardian. He smiled.

And then a wave of dizziness overtook him and he dropped to his knees, clutching his head. Fuck. Fucking Lifestream, fucking thousand year sleep (who was he anyway, that Valentine freak?)....fucking hot woman seeing me wuss out. The Second knelt by the green-eyed man.

Sir Auron finally looked down the beach, where Yuna was heading. "Hmph." He abruptly turned and strode down the beach. He called back to the woman. "Leave the Al Bhed to his own people, Lulu." When she did not move, he added, "Be sure not to tarry too long."

The green eyed man was incredulous. "Your name is Lulu?"

"What of it?"

He regarded her carefully. This was not a woman he wanted to piss off-at least not while he was doubled over. "Let's just say it doesn't fit your sunny personality."

Amazingly, she offered him a smile, though it was brief. "You've been exposed to Sin's toxin. That's why you can't remember anything. And probably why you're acting like an idiot." She paused and produced a potion from a pocket. Pocket? Where the hell did she have room in that outfit for a pocket? He'd have to think on that for a while. Later. "This is to keep you out of trouble. You should return to the Crusader's outpost at the overlook. The other Al Bhed are there, and should be able to help you. You need to rest."

"What did he-you-- mean...Al Bhed?"

"Someone will explain things to you later. I apologize, but I must join the others." With that she gave him one last smile, and hurried toward the group.

"Outpost. Right." And whatever Al Bhed was, he hoped it didn't mean weakened soldiers rescued by women. If that was the case, he'd have to find and kill her out of spite, just to prove her wrong. And he liked her too much for that.

He was soon able to stand, and slowly made his way to a rock formation near the craggy mountain. He sat and turned his attention to his formerly injured arm. Not a scratch. The High Summoner was good for something at least. He realized then that his hair was still wet, he was without his leather coat, and he was cold, despite the warmth of the air. The sea breeze, he mused. Junon always was windy.

He gathered his hair in his hands and began to wring it out. As he did he regarded the scene before him: hundreds of bodies. Blood. Feathers and limbs, broken swords and shattered cannons. He saw the flames of Niebelheim, heard the screams of the Wutainese around him. Here was the greatness of his former life, a diorama ripped from his memories. He wasn't sure whether he regretted or reveled that he hadn't done the work himself. It was truly a spectacle worthy of his hand.

He wondered briefly: If he had been the general of the campaign, would the result have been the same? Those he surveyed had been unprepared, outnumbered and unlikely. They had apparently been constructed from a blend of the mounted riders, clad in plate armor with little more than swords and shields-And magic, likely, though not from materia-and those with rusted machines. Probably. Less death, but against that thing, who knew...what was it? He saw the so-called Lady Yuna in the distance, a staff held out before her. Her party faced the aforementioned Sinspawn Suddenly her companions retreated as she held her staff above her head. She twirled, lowering it as she spun. A ring of symbols-Writing...Wutain? No, different-appeared on the ground before her. As he watched, the ground below her shook and from it burst a beast wrapped in fire. It caught the woman in midair and perched her on its shoulder. As it landed amidst a circle of fire, it gently lowered her to the ground. She patted it on its head, and saw that she was smiling. His eyes widened.

At that moment he realized the following: First, what a Summoner was. Someone not to be taken lightly. Second, that the Lady Yuna had called forth Ifrit-Ifrit!-without the use of materia, something he had never witnessed during his previous lifetime. The Lady Yuna seemed to have an extraordinary relationship with the beast, which she promptly commanded to tear the Sinspawn apart without mercy.

She was definitely good. More than that, he saw she reveled in it-as if she was vicariously experiencing Ifrit's power. She turned then, as if she sensed his presence. He briefly caught her eye before returning her attention to the fiend in front of her. With a final command to Ifrit, the Sinspawn collapsed into a myriad of colors that reminded him of the Lifestream. This fact did not reassure him, though he was still captivated by what he saw.

Curious, indeed.

Third, that there was definitely more to this High Summoner that first appeared. Uncapping the potion Lulu gave him, he decided then and there that this High Summoner should not be underestimated. After all, she had appeared innocent and weak, and had unexpectedly thwarted his ambitions. Twice.

Well. Third time's the charm. He raised the phial in the High Summoner's direction, watching as she dismissed the spirit. He wondered if her hand really was stirring the pot this time. He shrugged. "Here's to old times. May the best Ancient win." After all, he technically was one now, albeit not the traditional Cetra variety.

He downed the potion and waited for the requisite healing effect. He blinked. He inwardly cursed his own stupidity.

"Damn."

As sleep claimed his body, Sephiroth promised himself that when-and if-he woke up again, he would stop underestimating women if it was the last thing he did. Especially the pretty ones. He collapsed in a heap on the sand, dreaming of girls with pink ribbons, his hair a silver curtain trailing in the wind.
______________________________