Shattered Children

a/n: What is this? Can it be? *gasp* Another update! Yes, it turns out I'm keeping up my promise to finish out this fic so I'm pretty ahead of myself. With a few extra chapters that I didn't initially plan. Good news for you!

Thanks to my dedicated readers and reviewers, who without this would not be possible as I might have never pushed myself to write the chapters. I'm not motivated if no one's reading, sad to say. But I'm definitely motivated now. If I keep my current pace, there will be another chapter! And with that, I say a hearty thanks to nihilatrix (Alive I am! And though I may vanish briefly, I shall return!), Kuromei (Glad you liked! You know I'll never spoil what's coming but I will say this... Archer does deserve a spot of happiness, doncha think? *evil grin*), and Nelleh (Glad you liked that part! As it was what stalled me for those long, long two months. lol. Thanks!)

Enjoy the chapter!

Oh, and warning as always, this is unbeta-ed.

Shattered Children : Interlude Seven
This is the Last Time
~ Archer/Kadaj ~

Archer cursed under his breath, shifting his paper, grocery bag as he hurried down the crowded street. Junon was getting worse and worse by the week, as more refugees flooded to the coastal city, having nowhere else to go. Not to mention that the WRO was headquartered there and many sought its funds for aid. Businesses were booming, despite the strife that had recently struck the world. He supposed that the time of year helped as well, as it was the season to be jolly.

Funny how Archer didn't feel an inch of glee.

Technically, he should be celebrating. The Chaos War was over and everyone had emerged mostly intact, save for Cloud. His was a death that they mourned, though Archer couldn't be as upset as the others. He hadn't known the ex-SOLDIER very well, and only briefly made acquaintances with him from before the war had begun, and then a bit during. He wasn't nearly as close as the others had been.

Everything and everyone were returning to normal, to their families and their occupations. Beginning to start anew, or pick up where other relationships had left off. Moving on with their lives, having children, starting families. And where was he? Right where he had been before the war. Both of them.

Alone.

It was beginning to become a habit, really.

Archer was a few years shy of forty. Not an old man by the world's standards, but not a young one either. He should have long started a family by now. Had a wife, maybe a couple of children. He had a good job, a steady income. He'd helped saved the world, surely that mattered for something. And even if he did have an ancient demi-goddess occasionally residing in his head, that shouldn't have knocked him out of the running.

Everywhere he looked, everyone around him, they had someone. Even Sephiroth, who was as socially efficient as a retarded Skeeskee.

In front of him, a woman slipped on a patch of ice and dropped to one knee, her bag sliding from her hands and spilling half the contents out onto the sidewalk. She cried out in pain, and abruptly cursed as several items rolled across the pavement. The crowd dutifully parted around her, moving to avoid the obstacle. But no one stopped to help.

Archer wasn't that surprised. It seemed simple politeness and courtesy had left Gaia long ago. Shifting his own bags, he paused and crouched to help gather her fallen items. Mostly some fresh fruit and a few wrapped packages.

“Thank you,” the woman murmured, shooting him a half-smile as she rubbed thin fingers over her injured knee.

Archer shook his head. “No problem,” he responded, handing over a few of the items he had grabbed. “Heels probably aren't a good idea when its this icy out.”

“I know.” Her cheeks colored sheepishly as she reached for the bag he held. And he was disappointed to find a golden ring circling her finger. “But I don't think running shoes match the ensemble.”

“Perhaps not.” Archer rose back to his feet, and settled his own bag on his hip, offering down a hand to help her up.

She took it gracefully, with a slight wince as she put her weight on her knee. The crowd surged back into the new free space, crowding Archer against the stranger. Someone jostled him from behind, the edge of something sharp jabbing into his back. And there wasn't even a muttered apology or 'excuse me'. He shouldn't have been so surprised.

He searched the crowded street, finding a bench just behind them. He gently took her elbow, helping her hobble to the seat and lower herself down onto it. The woman set her bags on the empty space beside her, and rubbed her palm over her knee.

Forehead narrowing in concern, Archer peered down at the quickly forming bruise and redness. “Will you be able to walk on it?”

Gingerly placing some weight on the leg, the woman sucked in her breath. “I don't see any other option really.” Pale green eyes darkened with discomfort and ensuing pain.

“Hmm.” Responding noncommittally, Archer mentally searched the armband he always kept on his upper arm.

In the off chance that he might one day get attacked by someone seeking to kill a hero. Hell, it happened. And Archer wasn't taking any chances. It was a bit obvious to carry the Labrys around, so he settled for a carefully chosen array of materia. Subtle and effective.

He was relieved to find that he had kept the Cure, rather than removing it. Never knew when it might come in handy. Like now, for instance. He summoned up a low-powered Cure and let it spill over his fingers, glowing with the power of the spell.

“Do you mind if I touch it?”

She shook her head, curls swinging to frame her heart-shaped face. “You're the only one who stopped to help. I don't mind.”

“Human beings are naturally selfish creatures,” Archer responded absentmindedly, moving his fingers forward and lightly gracing her kneecap with them. Almost immediately, the flow of power flew from his touch and into her knee. He could feel it easing away the discomfort and the swelling, reducing the pain.

“Not always,” she replied, her eyes watching him curiously as she tipped her head to the side. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

Archer sighed internally. This was a familiar conversation to him. No one really knew who he was at first sight. It was usually on extended conversation or a longer look that they started to recognize him. Of course, he wasn't as noticeable as say Reeve – the President of the WRO – or Tseng – the new commander of the WRO defense forces – but people knew his face, knew his name.

He offered her a half-smile, letting the last strains of the magic pour from his fingers. “Not personally, ma'am. I don't think I could forget such a lovely face.”

Tiamat would have teased him for that, calling him a charmer. Archer really missed her sometimes, despite having only known the lady dragon for a short time. Sometimes, he swore he could still feel her presence inside of him. And the necklace he had made to represent her, he swore that the eyes glinted when there was no light.

“Even so...” She paused, watching him for a moment longer. “You work with the WRO don't you? With President Tuesti?”

He inclined his head, offering her a hand to help her stand and test out his healing skills. “I do. Though admittedly, Reeve does much more work than he allows me to do.”

She smiled, rising to her feet. Her mouth opened in surprise as her knee accepted her weight without the slightest tinge of discomfort. “Thank you once again. I find myself in your debt, Mr. Archer, was it?”

“Yes, that would be correct. And don't worry about it.” He waved off the offer of repayment. His mother had always taught him to be so polite, to be courteous to others, and he never felt need to abandon her teachings.

Her fingers curled around his hand, squeezing tightly. “It was a good thing you did, Mr. Archer. You and your friends. I don't think we give you enough gratitude. My son lived thanks to the risk you took.”

Archer stilled, her heartfelt words washing over him. “We just did what we had to do,” he responded, squeezing her fingers back and shifting his bags in his arms. “Be careful out there. It's still slippery.”

“I will,” she promised, and gave him another grateful smile. “You, too.”

He left her there, watching him go with a look on her face that he couldn't quite interpret. A little sad, a little grateful, and a little surprised. Archer shook his head to himself. He didn't receive nearly half as much adulation as the others, so to hear someone thank him personally, well, that was a bit unusual. But not unwanted. He just wished that a thanks hadn't been needed in the first place.

Gaia would have been a lot better off without either war.

He sifted back into the shuffling crowd, letting their conversation wash over him, their packages jostle him. Few cars drove by, Junon mostly a walking city. There really wasn't room for automobiles here. At least, in this part anyways. Archer was glad that his apartment was only a few more streets away. The wind was rising bitter and cold, nipping at the back of his neck.

He reached up, pulling out the hair tie and letting his hair fall free, brushing his shoulders. At least it would help keep his head warm, to an extent. Tucking the tie into his pocket, he paused at an intersection, with the rest of the mob of people, waiting for what little traffic there was to part and give them room to cross.

Laughter attracted his attention, loud and mocking. He thought to ignore it, only to remember that rising populations also meant rising crime. Gangs and punks were becoming an issue in Junon and Reeve's forces were already stretched thin across the world. There simply weren't enough patrolmen to cover the streets at all time, though he was assuredly trying.

As the walk-now sign remained determinedly dark, prompting many strangers around him to complain loudly, Archer glanced over his shoulder, looking around pointedly. Nothing of interest stood out immediately, until he saw a crowd of young men, probably early-twenties, at the mouth of an alley. Flashes of silver hair were visible through the gaps of their tight-knit semi-circle. And the laughter seemed to be coming from their direction.

Amethyst eyes narrowed as Archer turned to get a better look, edging back out of the crowd and towards the young men. Whoever they were bullying was much shorter than they and Archer couldn't make out much more than that, until one finally stepped aside. It was a young woman, her bright green eyes wide and her face pale. She was very obviously trapped within the semi-circle the young men were making, with her back to a darkened alley.

It didn't take a genius to figure out their intentions. Strangers continued to pass by, some staring at what was happening, but nobody thinking to step out, to help out the poor girl. They just kept going, wrapped up in their own lives. Sure five was probably a greater number than one, but Archer had faced worse odds. And he couldn't live with himself if he just walked away, leaving the woman to her fate.

Which meant, inevitably, that he had already decided to interfere.

Sighing to himself, Archer mentally apologized to his groceries – his ice cream was likely to be soup by the time he managed to get home – and pushed his way back out of the crowd. Behind him, the walk-now sign finally clicked on, letting the sea of people continue on their way.

Archer thought to himself that he really needed to see a psychologist about this hero-complex of his.

------------

This was getting annoying.

“Such pretty hair. Are ya sure yer not a girl?” the idiot to his right scoffed, reaching out with dirt-encrusted fingers for Kadaj's hair.

He side-stepped the motion, green eyes narrowing into furious slits. His gaze flickered around to the five or so complete fools that surrounded him, wondering how much attention he would attract if he utterly destroyed them. Probably a lot, considering the masses of people just beyond the wall of punks. Behind him, however, the darkness of an alley yawned and Kadaj smirked to himself.

Back there, no one could see him tear them apart.

“What say you and us go play somewhere, hmm?” Another murmured, obviously the ringleader of his merry band of idiots. He reached up, scratching a finger under the band of his lowslung hat. “I can think of a few games you might like.”

Kadaj snorted, offended by their comments but knowing better than to get too angry with peons. If they were too stupid to realize the danger they were in, then he wasn't going to be affected by their words. They were mere humans, after all.

He opened his mouth, sure to respond with something appropriately scathing, when a voice suddenly echoed from behind the pack leader. In unison, the five idiots turned and Kadaj was treated to the view of a sixth man, older than these ruffians but still rather youthful in face. Bright amethyst eyes flickered to Kadaj for all of a second before hardening in anger.

“It takes five of you to rob one woman these days?” the man demanded, a bag of something tucked under his arm. He squared his shoulders challengingly, though he stood inches shorter than most of the ruffians.

Kadaj bristled at being called a woman, but he couldn't get a word in edgewise. Idiot One stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the older man as though trying to defend their toy for the evening.

“Just get outta here, old man.” He sneered, this thug friends standing up all proud and strong. Hostility was immediately aimed the good Samaritan's direction and Kadaj internally winced. “We don't wanna hafta hurt an innocent bystander.”

He was going to get slaughtered.

The interfering stranger didn't even balk at the obvious threat. He laughed at them, sounding derisive in his amusement. “Punks like you are the least of my worries.”

Kadaj stepped to the side, trying to see this stranger more clearly. He watched as the man lifted his free hand, gloved against the chill, and snapped his fingers. There was barely a sound thanks to the thick fabric, but when a flame flared at the tip, the reaction from the idiots was instantaneous. Fear mixed with their false bravado, and even the leader faltered for a moment.

“Parlor tricks,” he snapped, slashing his hand through the air and firming his stance.

Rolling his eyes, Kadaj was through with dealing with a bunch of idiots. Junon was proving to be as useless a city to make a home as all the others. This was getting beyond ridiculous. He stepped forward, having every intention of making his presence known and knocking out a few of the ruffians.

Until a bolt of lightning zipped through the air, striking one of the punks to Kadaj's left across the shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise as the ruffian grunted, hand rising to the wound as the smell of scorched skin filled the air. Only a flesh wound, but it was a good enough example for the idiots. Three took off running, including the one who had just gotten the shock of his life, disappearing quickly into the surrounding crowd. They were the smarter of the bunch, it seemed.

The leader and his sycophant remained, staring hatefully at Kadaj's intended rescuer. “This isn't over!” he declared in typical punk fashion, shaking his fist at the man before also taking off, though in an opposite direction from his friends.

This left Kadaj alone with the stranger. He raked a hand through his hair, turning his full gaze on the older man who was waving his hand, dismissing the magic he had summoned. Kadaj's eyes narrowed, wondering if he should recognize this person. Not many were able to use materia effectively on Gaia. Only perhaps about ten percent of the population.

“Are you all right?” the stranger asked, his eyes filled with concern as he stepped towards Kadaj, holding up a hand.

He batted it away effectively. “They didn't even touch me,” Kadaj retorted, still a bit perturbed that he had been called a woman. “I had it handled.”

The man blinked, his face coloring a little as he must have realized his mistake. “Clearly,” he responded, with a hint of sarcasm. His head tipped to the side, looking Kadaj over again. “You seem a little young to be wandering these streets alone.”

Kadaj bristled internally, trying not to let the man's appraising stare bother him too much. “And you're a bit too old to be taking on a bunch of idiots.” He paused, raking his eyes over the dark-haired man who, on second glance, seemed to be familiar. “Have we met?”

Amethyst eyes rolled. “Not personally, no,” he responded succinctly, a hint of fatigue in his voice as though this were a question he had fielded several times before. “At least, I don't think so. But you do look like someone I know...”

He snorted. “I doubt anyone you know carries the same name.” When the man gave him a look that encouraged him to continue, he gave up the answer without knowing why. “Kadaj,” the teenager clarified. “My name's Kadaj.”

“You're right,” the dark-haired man answered with a faint chuckle, thumbing his chin in consideration. “I haven't heard of you before.”

Still convinced he knew this man, Kadaj gave him another evaluating look, when his face suddenly clicked in the boy's mind. “You're the one who's always with the president,” he stated suspiciously, wondering if he would be recognized and promptly jailed.

He highly doubted Mr. Tuesti had forgiven him for entrapping his husband that one time, though it appeared that one woman had suffered most of the blame for that encounter. Then again, the only one who had gotten a good look at him had been the red-haired Turk, and he had been in the midst of escape. Not to mention all that chaos with the demi-deities and such that Kadaj had heard about. He and his brothers had been all but forgotten.

The man sighed, shifting his groceries so that he could stick out a hand. “That would be me. Archer Kyle at your service.” The introduction was accompanied by a half-grin that, as far as Kadaj could tell, was genuine.

Furrowing his brow, Kadaj gripped Archer's hand, surprised by the strength. For all his appearances of an office geek, the older man was hardly weak. He should have known. Any associate of Brother's would have had to be strong.

He tipped his head to the side, pretending that he only knew as much as the rest of the population. “Archer Kyle, huh? That's kind of backwards, isn't it?” Kadaj questioned, a genuine question. He'd always heard it the other way around. “Compared to the usual, I mean.”

Releasing his hand, Archer grinned. “You're one to talk, with a strange name like Kadaj,” he retorted, and it was obviously teasing.

It was strange that they could stand here and have a conversation, albeit an odd one, considering the press of people that surrounded them. The chill of the air. The weight of the open sky. Archer could have just as easily excused himself, but he lingered. Why? Kadaj wanted to know.

And why hadn't he left himself? There was something to this stranger, not so unknown anymore, that he couldn't put aside.

Kadaj scowled, pulling fingers through his hair. “At least I'm not an old man picking up young boys,” he countered sharply.

The older man stuttered, his eyes widening a fraction in his surprise. And to Kadaj's amusement, a flush of red flooded his cheeks that had nothing to do with the weather. “You were in trouble,” he protested. “I thought you were a girl.”

“And that really doesn't make it any better,” Kadaj retorted, a bit of a smirk pulling at his lips. Teasing this Archer was actually rather amusing. He had the maturity of an adult, but looked years younger than he should and still blushed at his age. An intriguing combination.

Archer's lips twitched, betraying his own amusement with the situation. He couldn't find it in him to be annoyed by the kid. “Well, perhaps next time I should just stick to my own business. And you... you should be heading home. Your parents are probably worried.”

Kadaj felt something flip inside of him, and he swallowed down a surge of inexplicable nausea. “My parents are dead,” he stated flatly. “And I can't say that I'm sorry for it.”

He winced. “I see.” Clearing his throat, Archer looked around pointedly. “Is there somewhere I can walk you, then? You really shouldn't be out here by yourself.”

Internally Kadaj snorted. He had nothing to worry about. He could take care of himself. But Archer didn't know that. And Kadaj preferred it to stay that way. He needed to coast beneath the radar, not make a spectacle of himself. And for that reason, he nodded warily.

“If you insist,” he muttered and gestured vaguely down the street, towards the apartment building a few blocks away where he shared a room with his brothers. “I'm down that way.”

Archer smiled, and followed his directions, Kadaj falling into line beside him. “Luckily, we are heading the same way.”

“Yeah, lucky,” Kadaj repeated.

He really couldn't figure this guy out. Who stopped to help a complete stranger these days? For all that Kadaj could see, the world was largely composed of humans who cared for nothing but themselves and their own greedy, rat race.

“What were you doing out here anyways?” Archer asked, giving him another assessing look. Probably trying to guess his age or something similar.

Though they were about the same height, Kadaj lacking an inch or so, he was definitely slimmer in build than the older man. And he certainly didn't look like he was capable of taking down those five thugs and a dozen more, if necessary. Mother's legacy had gifted him with an even more youthful appearance, and androgynous features. Though if Loz was any indication, once he got older, he would lose some of the softer lines.

Kadaj shrugged, stepping carefully down the street to avoid both the strangers and the streaks of ice that still marred the pavement. “Just had to get out,” he explained vaguely, unwilling to go into the details. It was both a truth and a lie and he didn't want to elaborate, especially to someone who was pretty much a stranger to him.

The older man arched one brow. “A little young for wanderlust, aren't you?”

“I'm seventeen,” Kadaj snapped, irritated by all the comments referring to his age. “And that's plenty old enough.”

The man had no idea, none, just what Kadaj had been through. Age was nothing but a number, one that he'd used to count how long he'd been existing. And how long he'd had to suffer under his father's demented experiments.

Archer gave him a blank look, clearly not expecting Kadaj's response. Kadaj knew that he looked younger, he didn't need the man to point it out to him.

Adults were the absolute last thing he needed in his life.

-----

The outburst, for really there was no other word for it, had surprised Archer. For everything, Kadaj seemed collected, perhaps even a bit mature for his age. But there was something lingering in his words, a hint of anger and even a deeper emotion. It echoed pain, and something unnameable that Archer couldn't quite put into words.

He immediately felt that he should apologize. He had upset Kadaj, that much was obvious. And there was a faster clip to the boy's – man's – pace than there had been before. His reaction was not unlike Sephiroth's whenever anyone brought up the taboo name of Hojo in his presence.

The fact that Kadaj greatly resembled Sephiroth didn't help matters in the slightest. He was beautiful, just like Sephiroth, though not quite as stoic and cold. Or even half as untouchable. His eyes were hard, like Sephiroth's, but not completely jaded. There was still something of innocence in him, something that hadn't yet been stolen from him. And it bothered Archer that he could even see that Kadaj had suffered in some way.

That hero-complex attacked him once again. It claimed there was something needed saving, if he only stuck his nose in again. Kadaj, however, didn't really look inclined to the help. And really, what could Archer do?

They traveled in silence for several minutes, waiting at a crosswalk and merging with the crowd to the other side of the street, before Archer spoke again.

“You're right,” he said quietly, tone apologetic. “If I had been half as mature as you at seventeen, I would have probably saved my father much grief.”

Kadaj snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets and lifting his shoulders. “You're an old man,” he replied, and a hint of something curved at his lips. “I can't expect you to relate to the younger generation.”

It took several seconds for Archer to realize that was a joke and he rolled his eyes, nudging Kadaj with his elbow. He didn't think for one moment that Kadaj had been teasing the entire time. No doubt the teen didn't want him to know how affected he had been by Archer's offhand remark.

“I'm not that old,” Archer defended, finding it easy to fall into playful banter. “I haven't even seen a gray hair yet. Not like Reeve.”

“You mean the president,” Kadaj corrected with a sidelong look. He hunched against a rising breeze, smacking them in the face with the cold. “You guys are close?”

Archer shrugged, twisting his jaw as he tried to recall just how long he'd known Reeve. “Something like that. I've worked with him for years. There are others that probably know him better than me.”

“Others,” Kadaj repeated, his gaze falling to the pavement as he considered. “Like the ones everyone is saying are heroes. The ones that took down ShinRa and all those demons.” He drew to a sudden halt, prompting Archer to stop with him.

He made a noncommittal sound in his throat. “Yeah, heroes.” That sense of loneliness welled up again, completely without his permission.

Kadaj's innocent query had reminded him that while he knew Reeve and he had once dated Cid and he'd worked with Tseng and Elena, he wasn't really close to anyone. He wasn't even sure he knew Cid as he was now because all he knew was the Cid of many years ago. Before the abandoned space program.

Shaking his head to clear away the sudden onset of gloom, Archer glanced pointedly around them. “Is this it then?” he questioned, looking at the five-story building in front of him, the architecture rather old and ridged. Strange how close it was to his own apartment, not but a stone's throw from the WRO headquarters.

Green eyes were watching him oddly, nearly scrutinizing him, and for a moment, Kadaj appeared years older than his proclaimed seventeen. And he didn't seem to be the wandering teenager he claimed to be.

“Yeah,” Kadaj replied, wind blowing silver into his face. “My brothers are waiting for me so I should probably get going.” He paused, and seemed to consider before shrugging. “Thanks for the help, I guess.”

And then, he was just the teenager again. Reluctantly accepting the help and even more uneager to express gratitude for it. The ageless look was gone from his eyes in the next blink.

Archer shrugged, tucking a strand of his own hair behind his ears. “Anytime. Be careful out there.”

He lingered for a second more, feeling as if he should say something else, but then Kadaj turned and headed into his building, climbing up the first few steps to the main double doors. He watched the teen's retreating back and realized, he would probably never see Kadaj again. But he doubted he would ever forget him.

Shaking his head, Archer continued towards his own apartment, hoping that the cold weather was enough to keep his ice cream from turning into complete mush.

In all likelihood, he would never cross paths with Kadaj again. So even if his mind wanted to recall images of those bright green eyes, he would chase them away. Not again. Archer didn't need any more fruitless crushes.

Not this time.

******

a/n: Ah, poor Archer, he is as unknowing as Reeve in Shattered Boundaries. For we all know their paths will cross again. For our benefit, of course. I hope you enjoyed this peek into their first meeting!

Also, per those added chapters I mentioned, I will be needing to add another interlude and well, I'm all out of ideas. So if there's any specific pairing you want to see, or any question you have about those missing months between Shattered Dreams and Shattered Children, feel free to make suggestions. My exhausted muses could use the boost! And I'll do my very best to use all of them. I'm interested in knowing what my loyal readers would like to see, so feel free to be honest! E-mail me if you don't want to leave it in a review.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! It won't be long until the next one! I promise! If I finish another chapter by next Sunday, I'll go ahead and post another chapter of this. Something to look forward to!