IMPORTANT NOTE

So yeah. Another "Zack lives" thing. But, I was very much inspired by fics like 'Twenty-Three Wishes' by Luna the Zekrom, 'Shadow' by ZachMercurious, and 'Final Fantasy 7 Crisis Core redux' by Team Wingless. I loved all these fics, but that little itty bitty part of me was never satisfied by the other "Zack Lives" stories. I found these three fics and loved each equally, but my writing muse refused to be silent the more I read into the fandom. I found many cringe-worthy, others too short, others beautifully bitter, but not hitting the right spot, and so on.

So I spat this out. Your welcome.

Anyways, I love and adore Zack. Even though his fate is by all rights and purposes meant to be what it is; I can understand that. Sacrifice was what partially made Cloud into who we know and love. Even though destiny cut the guy a raw deal, Zack got what he wished for. I dig that.

But, what if Zack was meant to be more than just Cloud's hero? The guy obviously inspired Tseng to break Turk mold and and tried to rescue Zack from what was a grizzly fate. Tseng held onto those letters, saved them, and he sent out people like Cissnei to try to reason with him. He obviously cared too, as a friend. I'm sure as a Turk friends were luxuries sometimes. And I'm sure there were times that, had he lived, the Turks role in the ff7 universe could be a little more... eh, interesting for lack of better words. So I made this to explore Zack's relationship with the people he's come to inspire.

Also, I love the Turks. SO this fic is an excuse for it.

This Fic is also basically that; a friendship fic. Its meant to explore the kind of influence characters like Zack Fair had spread. Eventually, if I feel this fic does well, I'll have the good, old-fashioned Zack and Aerith thing going on. I found his relationship with her definitely interesting, but not very well explored to my liking. I have other fics that I haven't finished, so this thing is going to be slow-going- if that. Its what I do for fun.

Anyways, enough of this jibber-jabber. I hope if you guys do find anything askew or needing some fixing, please let me know in a good critique. I hope this is something more to your liking my friends.


~777~

Breathing was something one took for granted, right until adversity literally steals your breath away. Be it sickness, cold, heat, or when you have swiz cheese for lungs. A weight could settle within your body, in your chest, in your heart, somewhere; siphoning your energy, stealing away your desire to move, leaving you fatigued and tore up from the floor up. Its something that seemed autonomic, up until your body says otherwise.

And when you sleep, even then you have to battle your infirmity in order to take your next breath; all without your conscious; without control.

As it was, Zack Fair heaved laboriously as he lie there, his eyes shut and body sweaty, clammy and feverish from his previous endeavors. Mako charged or not, healing wasn't exactly easy or fast when he was at death's door, the angel's voice knocking away beyond his peripherals. He actually thought he could see her... his?... pearlescent light piercing through the empty, colorless void at one point. It thoroughly convinced the man that he had finally, truly kicked the bucket. Of course, said door had never opened, even when once upon a time Zack would have willingly let in the seraph.

Bullet-riddled afflictions up and down his trunk was a stark, sobering reminder of his living mortality, and it unfortunately remained latched to Zack like wriggling, persistent parasites. Waves upon waves of it hit like infernal nuclear nimbuses boiling away at his tolerance; searing and scorching at his senses every other moment for god knows how long. Conflagrations of the Hellish degree ruptured across his chest in some unseen fire-storm.

His fists curled tightly, his short nails biting into his sweat-slicked palms. His jaw clenched every time his nerves jumped. His muscles bunched and twitched spasmodically. The sheets were soaked with his mako-stink from his sweat; and yet somehow didn't overpower the reek of his stress on the side.

Of course, Zack didn't really consciously know anything yet- he was too busy writhing in flame-riddled frickin' agony for hours without end; battling his own body in a bid to breathe.

Still, it took some time, but the man managed to brace and endure the rolling inferno snaking its way through him. Once said pain abated somewhat, he was wordlessly, graciously, endlessly thankful for the small reprieve. He usually knew how to deal with pain- a lesson learned first-hand in SOLDIER; but this kind of agony was sharper; deeper, angrier.

He came too in long phases: Eventually he found some semblance of sense in its lull; his frayed, tattered mind sluggishly stitching itself back together. Sometimes his eyes cracked open, admitting scant light (but no discernible shapes); and then he'd drift back into the vague nothing of blessedly sweet, drug-heavy, dreamless limbo.

He tried to move more often than not, but a heavy thing tugged and pulled at his face. It moved along his jumping throat, rendering it dry. He thought he also felt a variety of similar objects resting on or (grotesquely enough) in his chest, but Zack didn't want to think of it, or view the horror in its morbid entirety.

Just how bad off was he anyway?

Moving was a bad idea in general; all he succeeded in doing was yank on the tubes forcing air into him. He choked and sputtered, and then grew a brain cell and settled, letting his mind feebly wander. He tried to concentrate; centering his scattered senses and miserably attempt to piece them together.

He may not have consciously known it in words or logic, but a hardened sense of knowing (not so much instinct really; which compelled him to fight everything he greeted) kept him from pulling the weird thing in his esophagus out. He didn't know it or word it; but it was giving him air and he needed it there.

Sometimes he heard noises, voices fluttering in and out of his sightless reality, but a humming thrum was the remaining constant. Sometimes there was a... a beep? He didn't know what to make of it, so he didn't care, at first. That was until he realized that noise and pain and beeping meant one thing:

Hospitals. Or crazy scientists laboratories. Either way, they're plausibilities that translated into his first clear-cut, pristine thought ever since he fell into this medically-induced stupor. This one thought shot sensation back into his fuzzy-nettled fingertips, and forcefully pried his eyes open.

I'm... Alive...?

Alive was indeed an operative word- seeing how there was a vast collection of machines surrounding him, enabling him the vestiges of strength needed to cling to life. The clunky-looking things were huge, advanced, riddled with buttons, and had a vast assortment of tubes and wires feeding into his ragged form. One such piece was colored almost rust; probably a... what was it, a blood tranfuser? Hell if he knew. He'd bled out enough (and spilled others) to fill a behemoth-sized bathtub; and right before he was brought to wherever the heck this place was. Obviously, someone had wanted him to survive, but Zack didn't know anyone that cared enough to bother. Shinra had tried so damn hard to kill him before, so why save him now?

And who in the frick-frackin' world would do it anyway?

He layed there for hours in a lofty, medically-drugged haze, elevated enough for his bleary eyes to roam the vacant room. Sobriety eluded him for that first while, but it came to him in time; gently. He listlessly took in the durasteel colored tile on the ceiling while listening to the ginormous contraptions humming a droning chorus around him. The room wasn't decorated at all, nor was there any windows as far as he can see whenever he inched his head to and fro. The only thing in here that was remotely interesting was the pile of medical equipment and himself. He'd put labels on the damn things if he knew what they were, but he didn't, so that's that.

He wanted to sigh, but the act was an Herculean chore in on itself. His own breathing capability was pretty shot; he couldn't draw in a breath on his own even if he could. The machine was doing all the work; and boy wasn't it a huge pain in the ass. Suddenly his already sunken spirit steeped to new lows and a vast melancholy began to devour him the more awake he became.

When he finally had the majority of his senses, he couldn't help but ponder how he came to be here. His brows slanted inward, but the man couldn't really feel it all that well. He blinked and weighed his situation with humorless distaste; his brain finally dragging itself from the drugged quagmire he'd been stuck in for the last few hours.

Where is-? How am I-?

His eyes darted suddenly,his enfeebled mind racing relentlessly around in a repeated, frantic circle like a wild animal pacing its cage. Being imprisoned either in Hojo's lab or this place felt the same to Zack: like total, absolute, unending torture of the highest extremes. Zack was a man known for his endless energy, so staying idle and unable to do something even as simple as breathing was driving him stir-crazy.

And then, intrusively, he dearly wished that this person; no matter who they were, had left him to die in the wastes. As morbid as that thought was, it would've been his choice to make; not theirs.

"The price of freedom sure is steep," he recalled just then, drawing arms to bear. His heart had been calm and steady, even in the eye of the roiling storm. But when he'd made that statement in the midst of hopeless situation, he didn't dare consider if his standing to fight there on that precipice of Hell was truly a choice of his own making. Or if fate merely gave him that illusion; weaving together that odd, detached sense of halcyon where there should've been stone-cold fear.

Nonetheless, he'd been dauntless of any inquietude; unwavering in the turbulent tsunami that crashed around him. When there was action, he felt grounded, solid, immovable. Here however, in this mute, tiny little corner of Minerva-knows-where, there was no illusions about this iron-clad cell. He felt trapped, weak, mortal. The tubes in his body was proof enough of that.

With this in mind, Zack found a seering, perverted pinprick of rage coil within; his fingers digging into his palms with a vehement promise. Energy seered through him, effectively removing the lingering dregs of fatigue. He's a fugitive for Minerva's sake! Nobody but freaking Hojo would've wanted Zack unless they...

Unless... they...

Oh.

Oh shit.

...Oh HELL no.

His eyes suddenly bugged out, his battle-sharpened senses honing on every possible detail he could possibly scan around him: This room may have been bland, tasteless, and so gray even Midgar's rainy skies beheld more color, but it was irrefutably a damn med lab- which was the last place Zack wanted to be in now. The odds that Hojo owned it seemed pretty effing high at that instant.

NO. No. Friggin'. Way!

I'm not a damn EXPERIMENT. I'm not gonna take anymore of this stupid scientific bull-shit lying down!

Fuck this shit, I'm out.

Zack wriggled again with a new sense of rationalized urgency, feeling the gods-thrice-damned tube in his throat tug uncomfortably. He quickly found his wrists tied down once he noted feeling returning to the numbed areas, but it wouldn't stop him if he could just flex them a certain way. He knew his strength was an unnatural, gargantuan thing; but it's an advantage he never minded utilizing. Especially now.

His heart monitor spiked as his once-seemingly empty reservoirs of adrenaline frantically lanced through his exhausted bloodstream. He yanked and lifted his torso off the bed, his chest meeting the leather straps belting him down. Nonetheless, he fought against them with every iota of his being, twisting and jerking his heavy arms in sharp motions. He willed his usually larger muscle mass to give the extra oomph he needed and sprung up and down on the bed like a diver on a spring-board; pulling the straps tightly taut each time.

The aforementioned animal had willed its way to the bars; and now it was trying to chew its way through them with his broken teeth.

Gotta... get hands... lose...!

He didn't know how long he was at this, but it wasn't too long evidently: it was certainly enough time for someone in a gods-quadruple-damned white lab coat to come rushing to Zack's side and press something on the machine behind his head.

Zack had barely enough time to take in the figure's pallored features and petite, but masculine build before blackness crept into his vision. His heart lurched, and then calmed as his head lolled to one side. He cursed his ill-fated luck and cursed all his scientific 'buds' in Shinra with an uncharacteristic venom he never knew he had.

And then he saw nothing at all.


~777~

He didn't know better, but several hours passed since his initial awakening.

At some point, voices broke the relentless tedium of stifled silence, hushed and low and undiscernable behind the only door to this room. He thought he glimpsed a dark-haired head peek into the room, but then the door shut and silence reigned.

Freaking lover-ly. He was being watched like the freak science project he was, like one of Hojo's monstrous, mutated mega-fauna.

Zack nodded in and out after this point, his former fire withering to smoldering, cold embers as he sat alone for vast stretches. Mired within his own coagulating depression, he couldn't run, fight, breathe- he can hardly twitch his fingers to boot. He surmised that the powerful medication being fed to him now was doing this after his initial attempt at escape. It was bad enough he couldn't feel much from the waist down. Or think, or move, or even fart without somebody's damned permission at this point.

What a steaming load of chocobo crap.

His thoughts fell briefly to Cloud, and he wondered if the blond made it out of the wastes after all; or if he finished recovering from his mako addiction. He could only hope and pray at that point; and he dearly hoped that Shinra had no further interest in Cloud after his liberation.

And then he was thinking of her- the little angel in the smallest slice of heaven hidden within the sector five slums. His heart clenched and sank yet lower; and he closed his eyes and fought the rising rip-tide surge of regret at not quitting Shinra sooner.

If he did, maybe he could've given the girl more of his time. Maybe he could've been her bodyguard, good and proper; protecting her from the Turks and the world alike; giving her the time of day she deserved. He could've taken her to see the sky he loved from his childhood; not the one that would frighten her. To let Aerith see the freakin' stars for once- that would've been one Hell of a date.

He could've helped her fix the little cart that broken during his 'excursion' to Nibelheim, and help she and her aging mother around in the slums. The proletarian people there possessed a sense of community that Zack admired, and he wouldn't have minded blending into their world and hopefully becoming a more stead-fast and permanent part of Aerith's life. Aerith's neighbors certainly didn't seem to mind him in some part; even throwing around their opinions on how good the two of them looked together.

But, shoulda, woulda, coulda, didn't. Or was that a distinct can't?

Not like Shinra gave its employees much of a choice once one got a little too familiar with their methodology.

On the side- For all of his talk of dreams though, for all that his late, austere mentor Angeal had preached; still these dreams had faded to obscurity, no matter how hard Zack fought. He'd fled, he'd bled, he'd fought and tore his way through more than half-way across the world in a vain attempt to take back his freedom of choice. To get both he and Cloud a chance at a life he so desperately wanted after all of this pain.

...And to actually hear Aerith's lilting resonance like warm summer's breath. To glimpse the little botanical-eyed fae sitting in her own secret garden; blooming under Midgar's halogenic, slime-coated, rusty underbelly-

And all he had to show for it was his winding up here; in this strange, isolated, mis-begotten, windowless cubical; desperately alone and cut off from the world while being drugged out of his freakin' noggin.

When his eyes began to burn and blur, Zack blinked quickly and wished to grit his teeth in frustration; but he couldn't even do that. He began to lament for a different reason now- for the fact he didn't even have the simple freedom of wiping away his own mute tears or move his stinking jaw the way he wanted. His lungs whispered and fretted at his inability to properly clutch at air, his trunk tightening and heaving painfully. Pitifully.

So Sephiroth gets to cry 'momma' and go apeshit nuts-so on a little hamlet; with barely anyone to stop him. But Zack, the good boy in all this nonsense fighting, gets locked up in a cage of either reinforced glass or steel with no ability whatsoever to even scratch his own god damn nose or balls when he wants to? That kind of thing happened to him twice for that matter! In four freaking years! What kind of crap shoot, cracker-jacked, idiotic bull-hooey is that?

Fucking. Bloody. Cow. SHIT.

He armed himself with his whirling anger then; figuring it better medicine than mopey, suicidal depression. He'd continue to feel this way for a while too; his moods fluctuating between bitter sorrow and helpless, righteous, unbridled RAGE at Shinra and all they've wrought. His guts screamed at him in a bizarre mix of nausea and hunger, and then said hunger deserted him and replaced it with a desperate, wretched need to pee. He was starting to wonder if the gear attached to him was actually helping him relieve said desires after further contemplation.

For Zack, this kind of survival shouldn't be remotely linked with the word living- this was a Hell all of its own, in a whole different league. He silently vowed to find any way to free even one of his hands just so he could take out the stupid, cold, plastic serpent threading breath into him; but not without scratching his own nose first- 'cause he really had to scratch it. He didn't give the slightest damn if his own lungs failed afterward; this would be a fate of his own choosing since his initial attempt to die seemed to fail spectacularly.

He tried moving his hand for hours after settling onto this declaration; relentless in his squirming and twitching and turning. The medicine seemed to ebb more, and although more pain replaced what had been a vacant numbness at it wore off, still he persisted. Zack was a trier; and such determination was steadily loosening the leathery coils-

But then the door creaked and moaned wide open; and a short somebody with coppery curls carefully stole her way in like a thief in the night.

Zack ceased in his ministrations and strained to moved his head; but the metallic-tasting make-shift wind-pipe and mask limited his turn radius. At the very least, he was able to see a figure move toward him from the side; albeit difficult to perceive.

His usually warm summer-skies for eyes turned shock-cold; flashing cryogenic menace in an attempt to cover his previous frustration and sadness. His emotions clashed and collided with each other; tensing the viable musculature throughout his body. A culminating typhoon of spite bubbled from within his core; something old and primal tempering into a ferocious energy that shot liquid fire all throughout his body. He sat waiting to give this incoming scientist a battle of wills she'll never forget-

But then she spoke, and his tempestuous rage-boner forcefully abated like a squall.

"...Zack? Are you... actually awake?"

Her soft, usually mild, if not shell-shocked voice was somehow instantly familiar; guarded and wary as it was. Still, he knew her strange, polite tone well enough to recognize her.

His heart palpitated some as the girl slowly crept to his bedside; her collected mask loosened just enough as she took him in. After a moment of watching each other like this, Zack thought he saw the tiniest smile ever grace her tired lips. Such an easy, if not subtle gesture surprisingly took some edge off of his nerves at first, but Zack kept himself guarded no less.

Cissnei huffed when she noted Zack's rather surprising amount of alertness, her face brightening slowly. She looked a little fatigued herself, her hair unbrushed and usual Turk uniform unkempt. Which, in all actuality, shocked Zack more than whatever she could say.

Cissnei was usually religious in her keeping up appearances in the Turks- and uniform maintenance was kinda her thing. She was only ousted by Tseng, who somehow always looked like he just came from the dry-cleaners. That guy's uniform was always spic-and-span, and Cissnei was no different at times. But now, seeing the girl like this, Zack couldn't help but wonder what went on in that convoluted trap of a brain.

Nonetheless, the implications of the situation dawned on him: Her being here meant that the Turks were the ones who'd found him out in that battlefield and likely dragged him back here in the first place- And he was pretty sure 'here' meant Shinra co. if freaking Cissnei was here.

Well, fuck him sideways. It wasn't like his luck was any good to start with considering his track record with friends- with the exception being sir sunshine-spikes-for-days Cloud and miss adorable-perfect-wood-nymph Aerith.

And Angeal, but he's a whole other matter.

Zack balled his fists and groaned then; albeit the sound was a distorted, hollow, almost cruel, muffled parody of itself. The raspy, electronic grumble stopped the girl short from him; her hesitation to approach reminiscent of one who regards an over-sized, spitting, cornered animal. Her eyes widened a bit, but settled back to their usual, neutral mask.

"Hey," she murmured softly, keen on meeting his flat gaze head-on while keeping her own genial. "You feeling awake enough to understand me? Blink twice if you do."

Zack registered his inability to properly shake his head and suddenly mutely thanked Cissnei for her remembrance of his condition; but his previous anger and rueful ruminations twisted and curled in on each other before devolving into suspicion and wariness. He schooled his expression more, but felt an irritating amount of relief at knowing he wouldn't be sitting alone today. He had done enough talking to himself for a life-time; thank you very much.

When he blinked the requested number of times then, it was a deliberately slow and methodical motion. He even added some crinkles at the corners of his eyes in an pathetic show of his former smile; no matter how false it was. Zack liked her enough; but he still couldn't trust her per se. Granted, he was pretty sure the eye-wrinkles looked more like a grimace, but who cares? It wasn't far off the margin.

Seeing this, Cissnei's own timid smirk evolved into a tiny, almost timid grin that certainly seemed genuine. "I'm glad," she breathed. Her hands gave a vague motion; as if wanting to fold into each other- but stayed planted at her sides. Her warm, maple-brown stare refreshing at least. "I was starting to think the worse after so long."

But for how long exactly?

Zack could only blink helplessly at her, his innate frustration with his medical disability rising for the ump-teeth time that day.

Cissnei however seemed to spare the former SOLDIER some of his burden when she added, keeping her voice a low, conversational level, "You've been in a 'medical coma' for only a week, so don't worry about missing anymore years this time. It was meant as a precaution to treat your pain when you first came in... I think it was 'traumatic pneu-mo-something... thorax'...?"

She shook her head dismissively. "Whatever the case, you went into hypovolaemic shock sometime before we arrived- and by 'we' I mean me and a recruit we're training. If the doctor hadn't done what he has, the shock probably would've finished the job."

Her hands migrated behind her back, her expression fluttering between awe and concern next, "You've been under for a while. Surgery was done to extract all the bullets you had in you, and it was meant to fix the damage to your chest primarily. It all worked out after the doc was done. I gotta say though," her next expression was a wry, somewhat paltry twist of her lips. "By now, I think its fair to say you're a medical marvel. Color me impressed after seeing you survive all this."

Zack shifted some and blinked, his mind wandering. Hmm. That's... some oddly specific information. Cissnei's never been that straight-forward with me before. Has she?

If anything, the girl was once indifferent to him. She was patient with Zack, and seemed to care enough about his well-being that too many times she'd let him off the hook, but Zack didn't always know how to feel about her. So seeing her now, talking so much had disarmed him in some ways. He didn't even remotely care about the info on his well-being; it was the other thing she said- the bit about a recruit that bothered him. A nit-picked detail, sure, but one a good Turk wouldn't so casually toss around.

But then again, Cissnei had always been a good Turk when she was in front of her co-workers. Whenever it was just she and Zack though, maybe just her in some situations, its not like she always did follow her orders to the last letter.

So, a good Turk, maybe yes, but not perfect.

Cissnei brushed a lock of her hair back over her shoulder and drew out a chair from somewhere behind, or next to (Zack couldn't tell) one of the machines whirring beside his bed. She primly settled into it, her small hands set on her lap. She's fidgeting came the next thought as he watched her subconsciously wring her hands; a trait she never outwardly used.

She let out a pent-out breath and added in a soft, barely audible murmur, "I thought you weren't going to make it, Zack. Even Tseng counted you out when he saw you. He doesn't flip easily; but, surprisingly, he damn near did when he saw your wounds." Her downcast and sullen appearance seemed to emphasize her waxy complexion- apparently she'd been neglecting food or sleep.

Maybe both.

Zack felt uncomfortable about the development; he'd always lectured the girl to take care of herself first instead of her job sometimes. Cissnei was hard to sway though; her job meant her life to her. To Zack, it was simply just a job; and that was something they never saw eye-to-eye on. But then again, Turks were trained differently, and their work was somehow dirtier than what SOLDIER is usually employed for; no matter how clandestine it was.

Au contraire, said an inner knowing he didn't really recognize in his own voice. Perhaps her current condition stems from true concern?

Zack wanted to shake his head, but again he was met with an impasse. He had no way of knowing if Cissnei's suddenly queer, lean lifestyle was at all affected by his near-death. Truthfully a friend would react so, but her? How many times has he actually interacted with her outside of their jobs socially? Would he actually call them friends?

Well, maybe. Sure. Why not?

Fucking hell.

Oblivious to his stray thoughts, Cissnei went on after a pause; the girl not quite used to talking so extensively. "Our medical professionals here are exclusive; they only treat Turks who get hurt on confidential missions. They're not big talkers either, so don't worry about word getting out that you're here: its kinda part of their M.O. Even President Shinra doesn't know you're here; if its any consolation. The whole world thinks you're dead."

Zack felt his calm briefly break, wondering if her words extended to everyone- His parents and Aerith included. If what she said was true then...

Still, Zack had to shelve the thought as the other went on.

"At least this way, nobody would come looking for you; not even Hojo," She must think her words encouraging at this point, seeing her modulated tone went unbroken. "-Heidegger may head our department, but he doesn't really look into who comes here or doesn't." She snorted next; something Zack starkly noted he'd never seen her do, if at all. It passed more as a kitten giving a contemptuous sniff though. "He usually has... more important to do; other than check the welfare of his own underlings."

...She's never seemed too open about how she feels about her superiors or what they're up to. What's going on here?

She shuffled somewhat and sighed, taking the moment to collect her thoughts. She then continued in a leisurely manner, "See, Tseng even had your caretaker... Hendal I believe, sign a confidential document as an added measure, among whatever other things he felt necessary. He was pretty thorough about it."

She drew a slow breath, "Anyways, these guys are really good at what they do. Somehow, Hendal still managed to save you even when your condition said otherwise. He's the best doctor the Turks have: A real professional, and he only works for the Turks should something go wrong. He's worked alongside Hojo here and there for training, but he's not a scientist."

At Zack's twitchy reaction, the girl added hurriedly, "L-look. Don't worry about it, okay? Hendal doesn't really care for Hojo's..." She trailed off as she tried to recall the exact words; and then she added with air-quotes, "He said, 'unorthodox', or 'immoral' methods. I actually go to Hendal and Sierra myself; Sierra more so." She pointed to herself briefly, trying to console the man before his heart rate accelerated to its weirdly familiar frenetic measures. "We keep a male and female doctor around for respective reasons, and they're actual doctors. Not creepy scientists. I'm sure SOLDIER had something similar, right?"

In a way, she was right; but oh-so wrong. SOLDIER primarily went to scientists as medical professionals more often than not, due to their exposure to mako energy. It was a tedious process that required extensive monitoring. It was a dreadful actuality; but true. Weirdos like Hojo were actually uncommon, but each guy gave Zack a different if not obscured reason to avoid doctors, no matter who they are. They all freaked him out in some way or another.

Still, he hoped he could rely on Cissnei's words to try to suppress the rigid fear knotting in his innards. It wasn't like he actually feared doctors per se; no way. He just loathed doctors in general. No offense to this Hendal dude.

Yeah. He hated them, and that's that. Its totally that. Hojo totally did not traumatize the survivor Zack Fair for life.

Nope. Never.

Whatever the case, Zack tried to move his arms again, but the action merely caught Cissnei's attention. She continued dolefully with, "I'm sorry... about the mask on your face, and the straps... I know it can't be good feeling so constricted." She looked away, her lips thinning. "Its... its kind of... needed-?For your condition, I mean... You reacted pretty bad earlier. The doc had to put you under for a few hours to calm you down. I think at some point he said your lungs would've collapsed if you struggled anymore."

She frowned, the expression pinching her nose almost cutely, "He had a term for it, but I don't remember it. Whatever the case, Hendal says that the mako energy in your body kind of speeds along regeneration; possibly preventing any complications you could've developed."

Well, yay. Lucky me. No wonder I couldn't die properly.

Freaking daisy-cutters, the lot of them; up until it matters to the individual. Zack scoffed inwardly, his ebon brow line dipping.

Cissnei noticed it though, but didn't comment. She shrugged helplessly next, though the gesture wasn't meant as callous or careless. Cissnei's face appeared mollified and she sighed, "...I'm sorry this happened to you at all, Zack. I was hoping to- I mean Tseng, he..." She fumbled around for words, her mind scrambling around for thoughts.

"...What I was trying to say," she eventually tried. "-Was that we, as in the royal 'we', as in the select Turks that looked for you were hoping to get to you before the Shinra army did. They were told to shoot to kill- Tseng merely wanted to find you and bring you in alive safely."

Zack blinked once, twice, and then turned his head away as much as he could. He still had his doubts deep down, seeing how it sounded too good (or too far-fetched) to be true. But what else could he do? He wanted to take Cissnei's word for it; a part of him truly hoping that her words were genuine.

Sadly, Zack was no longer the idiot puppy who wagged his tail for everyone who passes by; hoping to please wherever he went... inhaling all the crap fed to him.

At some point he believed the somewhat enigmatic man his friend; but being hulled into Hojo's Hell-house sure can change a guy's perspective on what he or she could call 'friends'. You'd think Tseng would've said something about watching his friend get dragged to Hojo's playhouse of horrors; or Cissnei herself for that matter. Hell, maybe they could've planned some way to smuggle away Zack's cold, comatose body instead of carry on with their lives wrapped up in their jobs-

No. No. That's not right, nor fair to them, Zack realized. They would've probably been sloughed too, if not worse.

He also wondered about all the times Cissnei's showed up in the earlier days of his running, and how she let him escape deliberately. She claims that Tseng wanted to help him and Cloud then, but shouldn't she have said something about it? He could've surrendered himself to her custody peacefully; no run-ins with the Army needed. Then again, Zack might've simply dismissed the help underneath the circumstances; believing it false.

What a pain in the ass. It was probably best to let this shit go now. Too little, too late; he was here now!

On another note, Zack recalled that the girl beside his bed wasn't much of a huge talker herself; usually reserved and a better listener than anything. She teased, sometimes she could even be adorable or coy about it, but Cissnei was a Turk through and through. She took her job very seriously; so much so the two almost came to blows about it not too long ago.

Oh. Right. She's been talking. Maybe you should keep listening you freakin' head-case of a dick-wad.

"-I'm sure you want the mask off, or the straps removed. I can't do anything about the former, but if Hendal got a good look at you again soon, he'll release those so long as you don't mess with the equipment. Its a given, but you'll have to comply, okay?"

Zack blinked again in understanding; it seemed fair, but still. He started suspecting a catch before long.

"You'll be okay," she assured, her earlier smile returning upon seeing his positive reaction. "Just hang in there a little longer. You'll have that infernal thing out of your throat soon."

Her seemingly earnest, if not surprisingly lofty air should've made Zack even more suspicious, but he couldn't help the gut-clenching sensation of wanting to confide in her words. The girl in question was someone who worked for the wrong people; but it thankfully didn't sully her moral fiber in some way or another. Turk she may be, but even she had been a good friend at one point or another.

He suddenly, viciously, desperately wanted to believe that Cissnei only wanted what's best for him; and it was a need that drove home the fact that Zack was now alone in the world. His parents didn't know he was here; nor did Aerith, or Cloud, or Kunsel. The only other 'friends' he had were either dead, MIA, or otherwise. Cissnei and the inscrutable Tseng were all he had left now. Besides, these guys did probably go through Hell-and-back trying to get to him before the army did; saving his life when anyone else would've deemed him dead on the spot.

So he (metaphorically) gritted his teeth and bore this morbid news in silence. He retained his guarded feelings, but blinked twice in answer to her words, not noticing his own expression fall with each second that passed.

Yeah. Friends. They went through every possible kind of security exposure just to get me here, so... maybe they actually do care deep down?

This sign seemed to encourage both the ex-SOLDIER and the Turk, but she observed Zack's shift in demeanor and couldn't help but return the look. The man was always an open book when it came to his facial expressions; and so it instilled into Cissnei just how lonely the man was. She tried to smile more sincerely in answer, hoping to lift Zack's spirits as much as she could.

"Please don't look that way. I don't want to see you give up yet," she murmured. "There's still a chance for you to get out of here. I can at least assure you that."

Zack blinked twice and tilted his head as far as he could without pulling on the mask too much; a tic of his that respectfully earned him the moniker "Zack, the puppy" back in his earlier days as a lower-ranked SOLDIER.

Cissnei retained her gentle smile as she elaborated, "I did say Tseng wanted to bring you here, did I not?" At his terse, jerky nod (he definitely regretted that), she added, "Well, he had a plan for you for when you got here. I'm afraid I can't say now because I'm sure you're still, eh-" she moved her hand a in a 'so-so' motion, "-probably not all there yet. You're still recovering. Then again, you seem clear-headed, but I still think its up to Tseng himself to disclose that plan."

...Plan? What plan?

Zack blinked and leveled a more intrigued look, but that one inner voice he usually ignored in his noggin kept on preaching about how shifty this talk was. Be that as it may, it became apparent to Zack that if this was indeed the case, Cissnei, who was usually the epitome of discreet, was speaking so informally and openly, then mayhaps this room truly didn't belong to that psycho scientist Hojo; nor was it under any surveillance that he was familiar with. They may actually have some semblance of privacy for all he knew.

Either that, he was getting too comfortable with her here, the longer she lingered. Female company always did that to him, one way or another.

Suddenly, Cissnei's phone chirped; effectively jerking Zack out of his reverie and shocking the other. The Turk seemed to blow out an exasperated breath and flipped it open, her warm eyes suddenly sterner. She sighed and put it back into some pocket in her tux. "Sorry about that. I think that's my cue to leave," she informed. "I've got some prep work to do and then clock out for the day. Its been a long week."

But, didn't she just get off duty-?

Cissnei had come visit wearing a rumpled uniform. Why was she getting called back in now-? And what the hell did she mean by 'prep' work? Had she been on break or something?

His questions would go unanswered sadly. She then rose from her chair with what Zack thought was sheer, tired reluctance; moving it away from the bed so Hendal wouldn't trip on it whenever he returned. Just as she reached the door, her hand resting on the turn-knob, she gave Zack a more reassuring glance and added, "I'll be around, Zack. I promise to come say hey tomorrow."

Her vivid eyes and more enthused body language (something she usually concealed) was a confident posture she gained from watching Zack himself. Her expression regained its more familiar, reserved quality too. Suddenly she folded her arms and turned to face him more, her face almost exasperated, but fondly so.

"Do me a tiny favor though," she said, her voice small but firm. "-Please, for the love of Minerva don't do something we'd both regret whenever Hendal lets your wrists free. I know deep down you still want to get out and away from Shinra, but in your condition I don't see that happening. I can only ask you do this one thing, Zack, and that'll be it. Could you do that for me?"

She watched the other's eyes for a time, waiting to see his compliance. She sighed, and then said, "Blink three times for a no if you want, but all I'm asking is you listen to Tseng whenever he comes by. You may like what he has to offer."

I don't have much of a choice though, do I? Or do I really...? Cissnei hadn't implied any deviant intent, but Zack still wasn't sure what to believe.

At his quizzical turn of the brow however, the girl's next smile was more her own; the cryptic, if not slightly amused curl of lips Zack definitely remembered seeing when he met her for the first time. "Hear him out. That's all I ask," she pressed. "Please?"

And just like that, he was sunk. Man he hated it whenever a pretty girl added the lilting 'please' part at the end. He always let that little bit get to him whenever he talked to girls like her, or Aerith, or that lady at the desk in the lobby some time back...

He could already almost hear Angeal yelling at him to straighten up and focus; so he let the thoughts it was, Zack blinked twice back in answer; his curiosity winning out over caution and willful desperation. He moved his hands against his bonds, and then with the hand that Cissnei could see, raised a feeble thumbs-up.

This immediately brought a response from the girl; earning what Zack thought was her first true smile throughout this whole conversation. "Thank you, Zack," she replied in near sunny-warmth. "I'll let Tseng know. Minerva knows he needs to hear some good news for once."

She then dipped a bit in what he thought was a mini bow, seeing how it was a slight movement from the waist up. But Cissnei's expression remained borderline jubilant for her standards, her usually timid smile a flash of pretty teeth. She then turned to leave next, her hair a beautiful, rusty-red and coppery ripple that bounced in her wake.

Welp, one thing's for sure: If he hadn't already met Aerith and almost actually died trying to see her again, he certainly would've tried harder to encourage that sharp-dressed spit-fire to date him sooner. He'd forgotten how cute she truly was when she was 'real' with him. It was the part of her that always drew Zack back in despite his mixed emotions towards her.

If only she's like that more often. More... herself, and less Turk.

Wishful thinking on his part, but it was a pleasant thought no less.


~777~

As it turned out, Cissnei's visit had actually helped remove whatever negative thoughts may have haunted Zack prior to her arrival. Funny how a cute girl's encouraging words could do that to a guy; even if there was some trust issues between them. Then again, any red-blooded dude would feel a bit better about sticking around after such encouragement and prospective, hopeful rumination hinting at the positive.

Especially when there's not a Hojo in sight, true to the girl's proclamation.

Nonetheless, this 'Hendal' came in not long after. The man was apparently the one who knocked Zack out when he tried to get free, but he didn't seem crooked or odd upon further scrutiny- If Zack had to describe the guy, he'd say he's kinda eccentric: too serious, maybe a touch too absorbed into his work, but a straight-forward guy all around. He even apologized to Zack about the incident with some evident sincerity, his smile small but genuine when it actually reached his hazel eyes.

The main difference was that this guy usually drank too much freaking caffeine. Like too, freaking, much. He was a hyper-active hamster on a sugar rush at some hours. He probably slept a grand total of three hours max whenever he seemed to have a charge to care for. The weird thing about this introvert was the patches on his noodle arms; Zack couldn't tell if they nicotine patches or something else at first.

Don't tell me it's yet more caffeine?

Were caffeine patches actually a thing? He didn't know, but he hoped for this guy's well-being that they weren't. The last time Zack himself was introduced to such exorbitant amounts of the stuff was the last time Angeal ever took Zack to a coffee joint.

Thankfully he wasn't like that all the time; only when he had patients. And it seemed like at some encouragement from whoever he talked too in his off hours convinced him to get some decent sleep; seeing how he had yet to make any mistakes while dealing with the ex-SOLDIER.

So of course, Zack wanted to like him; the guy was a wired, energized version of Cloud all in all. If Zack didn't have so many issues with Shinra and its morally-conflicted and questionable employees sometimes to begin with, he'd want to hang with him. Sadly, too many times Zack's been burned trying to befriend the co-workers; so of course he was a little paranoid about making more.

Especially after that lobby lady. Freaking mocha-colored beauty was all she had.

Still, Zack managed to take Cissnei's advice and calmed his jets some; enough to comply with some of Hendal's instructions as his body recovered. The man even had Full-Cure materia; speeding along Zack's progress at a drastically swifter pace (although his healing from the mako energy may have also been a huge contributor). How the guy come to claim such a rare crystal was beyond the former SOLDIER's guess, but its not like he could ask him anyways. He merely logged the detail and put it aside for another day. He was thankful enough for the fact that what could've taken six or more weeks was shortened to maybe half. Zack had already been here almost two, so there's that.

During the last few days since her first appearance, Cissnei visited whenever she could- when she wasn't on a job that is. She kept their one-sided conversations short, never talking about what she was doing in extended detail. Its was a thing between them- they both never fully opened up about their jobs, seeing how the company rules kept mouths effectively and profoundly zipped shut. Zack understood the sentiment, but he wished there could be a day when the girl in front of him would open up some.

Or Aerith too for that matter. She always seemed to hide something.

Zack paused and couldn't help his huff in frustration; the act itself no less difficult even though his lungs had mended well. But, on another note... I don't think Cissnei's ever told me her real name! He mutely resolved to ask once he regained his ability to speak.

Zack also told himself during his long hours here at this hidden Turk hospital that he'd find some way to get the people around him to confide in him one day. He wanted people to be more comfortable around him; he couldn't bear to watch them suffer in silence anymore. It certainly seemed to stand true for himself after all that's happened to him in the last months.

Gods know he'd spilled his guts to Cloud when he'd been in a vegetative state: Granted, it wasn't therapy, but it was pretty damn close. It kept Zack sane during his frantic flight through the world; merely talking to mute blond in the long lulls between fight or flight had helped him considerably; emotionally speaking.

Apparently all these hidden agendas, lies, or half-truths were what got him here in the first place: Gods know Sephiroth could've come out of his armored shell more as an example- but the man was always taciturn. Eventually, his withdrawn, reticent nature may have contributed to his blind and deafening madness. Sephiroth hadn't had many friends except literally a handful to start with- and so Zack was compelled to believe said factor only added onto the guy's list of problems. He snapped from the weight of it all; keeping all of his emotionally-charged pain chained and imprisoned into himself. Throwing himself into a self-imposed solitude with only a mountain of a mad-man's written works for company was just not good for your health.

It was the final straw that broke the chocobo's back. What a violent way to go.

Cloud was similar in some ways, but his biggest problem was this inferiority complex he had going... it was emotionally exhausting watching the little guy mope around. He really needed to get laid, Zack had playfully joked once or twice. But it seemed to be true too... the guy mentioned this girl he had an eye on, and he wanted to get into SOLDIER for her. It was silly, but an honest dream.

Zack shook his head of these thoughts, focusing on the check-up he was getting from Hendal today. Thankfully the man had taken out the thing-a-ma-hoosit from Zack's deflated lungs, but he'd left the respirator mask in place. He told him it was to encourage healing or some other jibber jabber, but Zack's focus wandered after some point. Medical mumbo jumbo always did that to him.

So he kept the mask on, seeing how breathing on his own was still a bit of a stretch any how. At least his chest wasn't holier than thou anymore, thank you very much. And he had some semblance of speaking capability given to him as well, but he would have to slow and sparse with talking. Having that thing in his throat had left his voice with a hoarse, withered shadow of its former timbre. It also took a lot more energy than one would think.

Who knew? Zack certainly didn't.

Some six days after his awakening, probably thirteen days after his stand in the wastes if his estimates was correct, Tseng deigned to visit Zack in his kinda claustrophobic cubical. Hendel had waited for Tseng to appear before leaving himself, his smile lazy but honest. He'd walked up to Tseng and said right there, "He's doing fine now. Thanks for the help."

This statement in turn baffled Zack; leaving the man to wonder what is it that Tseng himself could've possibly contributed here when he had been absent all this time. But then, his query was quickly rendered moot when he saw Hendal give Tseng the Full-Cure materia he'd been so dedicatedly using for the last while.

Wait. Wait, wait, WAIT. What the fu-? That thing belongs to him?

Aw come on! Turks always get the best stuff.

Tseng put the materia in his suit somewhere, concealing it from view before Zack could finish drawing a breath. He then lifted his steady gaze and blinked lazily, taking in the other's condition and nodding.

"Zack," he started casually. He paused as he evaluated Zack's sobriety, and then added almost cheekily, "It's good to see you again. At least you're not in a body bag. I thought I'd have to bury you when you first came in. On that note though, you still look like death."

Hello to you too, asshole.

Zack felt his mouth purse, wondering why the lead Turk took so long to finally come by. Still, getting a greeting like this was unusual considering the kind of person Tseng was. In a way though, the frankness assured Zack that the following conversation should be fairly lax. A good sign, if nothing else.

Tseng found the chair Cissnei usually occupied and drew it up, sitting just a meter shy of the bed. He leaned back and let out a soft, almost inaudible curse; one Zack couldn't make out over the machines' din. He seemed tired as far as he can guess. The other thing Zack actually immediately noticed was Tseng's hair- the man had apparently stopped wearing his signature ponytail after a certain point. Zack couldn't help but ponder this seeing how the man was usually strict about the style not so long ago.

"I apologize for the long wait," he began, ignoring the flashing emotions streaking across the patient's face. "I suppose I could bore you with a reason that could only sound like an excuse, but I won't be getting anywhere with you after five years. Not a good way to kick us off I believe."

Zack opened his mouth to speak, but his lungs constricted again; all he did was cough into his respirator- effectively grossing himself out. Tseng looked ready to get Hendal, but Zack lifted a hand and motioned in an effort to betray the lesser threat of minor mishap.

After he recovered, Tseng sat back and withdrew a small notepad and pen, handing it to Zack, "Use this. Try to take your words slow and give yourself time. If you have questions, I'll do my best to answer them."

Or omit the truths like you Turks usually do, he almost said aloud.

Zack recalled Cissnei's pleas some days ago and weighed the idea; whatever Tseng had to say was important, but he seemed content to let Zack have his fill of answers for the moment. Best to take advantage of it then while the other was in what he believed a generous mood.

Zack started to scribble as fast as his clumsy, still kinda-tingling hand could allow, his excitement hurrying the strokes. His shoulder hurt sometimes, but he ignored it. He decidedly asked about Aerith first and foremost, and then inquired about his parents. He asked how many other people knew he was alive, and how long he has to be here. he'd been scribbling for a solid five minutes while Tseng patiently waited, the man obviously 'enthralled' by his own thoughts. At one point he took out his cell and flipped through it with a heavy, dull expression but he put it away immediately once Zack returned the notepad.

Upon seeing the first question, Tseng couldn't help but smirk minutely, "Of course you'd ask about Aerith. Can't say I didn't see this coming." Zack gesticulated with now freed hands but Tseng waved him off, "Don't fret; you'll be happy to know that she's perfectly fine. She's been... a little busy here and there. And before you ask, yes we have continued to keep tabs on her, but not do anything to jeopardize her well-being. As of recently though-"

Suddenly the ex-SOLDIER found himself swallowing. Apprehension coiled in his belly like a cornered snake for some unforeseeable reason.

"Aerith has... well, she no longer resides in Midgar as we know it." Tseng's usually deadpan stare carefully scanned Zack's own shocked one, his calm a stony force. "-Her mother left as well," he continued. "The house was found empty upon inspection. It seems Mrs. Gainsborough had no intention of returning either; at least as far as we know. There was quite a lot of personal belongings missing.

"As for Aerith, she seems to have found herself in some rather 'unusual' company," He carefully worded. "Not that said company is outwardly hostile towards her; quite the contrary really. They seemed protective of the girl, and Aerith seems to find their presence tolerable. We've managed to track their trajectory and extrapolated their destination to Kalm. I wouldn't be surprised if at this point they'd left the town and headed East."

Zack wasn't sure if Tseng was being honest about all this, or if he was deliberately concealing certain tidbits of information at the moment. Still, he couldn't really see the guy actually lying about his 'charge's' well-being after so many years. However, Zack couldn't help but wonder when is it that Aerith; the shy, soft-spoken girl he knew to fear the sky swallowing her whole, has ever found the courage to walk out beneath it. Without him.

So how much of her life has he missed while he'd been asleep?

He hung his head and sighed, feeling his sadness creep back after his inital relief and shock. A part of him really wanted to verbalize so many questions about her; seeing how writing them down would take too long. He could speak, yes, but the damage was extensive enough to limit his speech for now, and talking was actually too tiring for him at the moment. Plus this little bit of news to him, and he now really just wished to curl up and be left alone for five-ever.

Hendal had told Zack not long before Tseng showed up that his wounds would heal almost completely with no true lasting repercussions; given he didn't do anything strenuous. This was in turn good to know, but the bad news left a dry, bitter taste in his mouth:

Apparently the injuries, the shock, the experimentation, among other stresses have finally caught up to Zack. He could in fact 'relapse' if he didn't take his meds regularly and perform his assigned breathing exercises. Worse yet, even when he walks out of here he still had to wear this horrid oxygen mask for a short while despite his hyper-accelerated rejuvenation. It was temporary, but an annoying inconvenience for someone with no sense of patience.

Still, Zack managed to find enough breath to weave into his next query, almost regretting breaking his silence when it left his neck feeling over-stressed already. But he had to ask; had to know if all of his efforts to see her proved in vain like its already appearing.

"Is she... *wheeze* ...seeing someone?"

And then he wished he didn't ask. Period. He wanted to take it back immediately when he saw Tseng's brow give the smallest, most microscopic twitch ever- and yet its something Zack caught.

"I wouldn't really know," the man told him, his voice wooden. "I wouldn't think so, seeing how her current companions are rather recent additions."

"-But?"

He shook his head, "I don't know, Zack. We may watch her carefully; Hell, I have two of my men on her trail right now, but we don't exactly know how else she feels about these people she's with beyond what I've already told you."

Fucking Hell. You can't just tell me this shit and not expect me to ask.

"As for your other questions," Tseng interrupted his sideways thoughts, trying to derail this train before it drove itself into a corner. "-Your parents are fine as well. No changes have actually come to them."

Zack nodded at him to proceed, briefly considering contacting them somehow. He'll have to ask Tseng about talking to them now that Shinra was off his tail. No Shinra meant no danger to them, right?

Don't jinx it, he told himself.

"-As for your fourth question, thanks to Hendel's work and the materia, you won't have to be here more than another week. Hendel planned on allowing you some mobility liberties too. I would think he'd keep you a little longer, but I'm sure you wouldn't agree to that readily."

You damn right I wouldn't!

The news was mixed to Zack; but he understood. His legs would probably give if he stood on them for too long right now; seeing how he hasn't used them since the wastes. And as irritating as waiting a week to leave was, he knew the doc was a fretful man who mother-henned his patients.

On the side, he also wanted get right on Aerith's trail himself and see if the group she's with were actually any good to her. Tseng didn't seem overtly concerned, but the man obviously didn't really seem to fully confide in these guys to watch out for her; and that's what had Zack concerned.

Nonetheless, Tseng continued; his tone somewhat stiff, robotic. "And for the last query, only seven people all in all know you're alive. This also brings me to true reason for this visit." He leaned in and steepled his hands together, giving Zack the full weight of his inflection-less attention. "I want to keep it at that; any more people privy to your continued existence will compromise the Turks. Shinra may believe you dead, but it doesn't mean that you're clear to do as you see fit."

Zack snorted and narrowed his eyes, hackles rippling with dread. So much for his plan of seeing his parents again. He'd done jinxed that idea.

So said the other, "With things as they stand in Shinra right now, the situation is unstable. It could be perceived as a chance for you to escape unnoticed into the world completely anonymous; to probably vanish from society as a whole-" He shook his head then, "-But with the appearance of several rogue factors, I'd think otherwise."

Of course he does. That's just my luck.

Tseng settled back, his wooden gaze relenting. He added with a scoff, "-Then again, That's just my opinion. You probably, most-likely could leave Shinra for good, scott-free, on your own, with no one the wiser- but you're also not a selfish person." He relaxed some, as if satisfied with finally coming to the meat and potatoes of the convo. "You can't really enjoy your freedom if your friends couldn't be a part of it; that's why you never left that other subject behind at any point, even though he clearly slowed you down; and almost died as a result of."

At Zack's scowl, Tseng added, unperturbed, "This said, I couldn't help but think that, even if and when the Turks recovered you, what should we do with you there-after? Your freedom means a lot to you, but you wouldn't have much interest in it anymore if you can't interact with the people you knew before all this. You'd probably involve Aerith in it at some point; possibly throwing a wrench into whatever we do. You're quite effective at being a disruption in a Shinra operation; whether intentionally or not. You have the know-how, the experience, and the drive to be a threat if given enough incentive. Said incentive, bringing us right back to Aerith; whom you know Shinra has an invested interest in. I can only imagine that any further actions on the Turks part would invoke you to take action hence."

Tseng propped up a leg on the other, his gaze stoic, "So I've come to this thought: If we were to somehow let you go despite knowing all this, wouldn't it prudent to say, have Aerith effectively removed from Shinra's sights as well?"

Zack tilted his head at this, immediately wondering what Tseng was getting at. Why's he being so blunt for anyhow? Didn't he just say Aerith was running rampant somewhere in the world with no help from himself? Wasn't she technically free of Shinra?

No... She's not. She's still got Turks on her ass like stink on a skunk. Something's not right here. So whats his game? What is he even getting at anyway?

"Explain," Zack croaked.

"I will," he replied coolly. "But first, I'm sure even a little part of you may want to know the true scope of these 'rogue' factors I mentioned? These portents are something of a need-to-know for someone of your unique position."

Zack narrowed his eyes, but Tseng merely kept his expression level. Still, when he gave Zack his answer, he almost wished he didn't know.

"Recently, Midgar's been under siege. To kick off this week, not long after we found you, two reactors blew to Hell and back and the main building itself was infiltrated by its destroyers not long after," Tseng's poker face was set firmly into place as he said this, modulated tone indifferent. However, Zack knew the man was aggravated by these occurrences; if that vague squint of his eye was anything to go by.

"-And to add to that mounting list of problems, and as loathe to tell you this as I am," He went on in a somehow blander voice than before. "-The Sector 7 plate fell into the slums below; causing massive destruction and killing many. Shinra's in the midst of digging out the bodies as we speak."

Of all shit storms to whether; Zack most certainly wasn't prepared for this one. This kind of bombshell left an explosion of emotion to bloom like a dark mushroom cloud across his face; violently ripping away whatever other thought had been in mind. It had been a rather straight-forward delivery, and so thus shook Zack to his leaden core. His first thought after hearing this was whether or not Aerith and her mother did escape alright, but then he recalled Tseng's earlier words and let out a mild breath of relief.

No wonder Elmyra left her house. Its too freakin' close to where that thing fell!

On another, more unrelated note, if it wasn't Sephiroth delivering such grizzly news in a frank manner before, it was Tseng or Lazard when the guy had been around. And man were these guys the straight definition of blunt force trauma.

Tseng elaborated with some sullen hesitation, "That isn't all. Apparently, the night the building was infiltrated, there was an attack that took place from the R&D floor up. A trail of destruction left more than thirty or so men and women- the majority being pencil-pushers- dead all the way up until the president's office. The president was also counted as a casualty."

"Holy..." Zack's whispery voice broke. It wasn't in any concern mind you; but it was the shock value that compelled him to speak.

"Rufus had taken over as president," continued the usually clandestine man. "As for the killer, he left for destinations unknown. On his trail are the perpetrators; AVALANCHE; who escaped in the chaotic aftermath."

"Wait," Zack coughed, holding up his hands to stop the influx of info. He gesticulated for the notepad and Tseng complied. After writing his queries, he handed it back and waited for the man's reply.

Tseng nodded and said in response, "I can see how at first glance how all of this could be confusing. I did speak of the perpetrators and killer as if they're two separate entities." At an nod from the bed-ridden SOLDIER, the Turk detailed the truth, "AVALANCHE, as you're no doubt familiar with, has been a thorn in Shinra's side for years. They've been rather pro-active as of late. They're the ones who blew the reactors and broke into the building and caused only some mild confusion and havoc. It wasn't that hard; we-" Zack guessed that meant the Turks in general, "-did clean-up and arrested them before too much was said and done. They were contained shortly there-after. Still, as coincidental as it is, another person broke in that same night not long after their incarceration."

His already grim expression grew darker, "This person killed everyone in the upper floors single-handed, allegedly taking a specimen Hojo had in storage. Due to the nature of his work however, there was no visual proof; merely messy trails and broken equipment." Tseng took a breath here and said, "AVALANCHE merely stayed in their cells, unaware of what's happening just outside their hall. Due to the commotion the killer caused, they were able to get out of the building and escaped Midgar."

"And... *wheeze* -The killer?"

Tseng folded his arms, his expression planted on the floor. His calm completely fled his face, and left an amalgamation of somethings that Zack couldn't make out. Needless to say, his best description of it was troubled.

"We... Well, there was one survivor of the attack: You remember Palmer at all? No?" Zack shook his head. "Well, he's head of the Space division. He must have been coming to speak to the president. However, the killer came in and exchanged words with the man, either negligent or unaware of Palmer's presence; and killed him there-after. Palmer's words were garbled, but he claimed that- and here's the kicker... -that Sephiroth of all people did it."

One bombshell just after the other; wonderful. Could this day get any worse?

"-And as if to confirm his frantic ramblings, actual video surveillance managed to catch the culprit in the act; true to Palmer's words."

Oh wait, it could.

Dammit Zack, QUIT. FRIGGIN'. JINXING IT!

Zack shook his head once in distaste of the insight, but then in disbelief. "How?" he rasped. "Sephiroth... *wheeze* ...He died! In-"

"Nibelheim, yes," Tseng interjected, stopping Zack before he got too exhausted. "But, as it were, it seems not a lot of things are adding up then."

Zack drew in his long legs and rested his arms on them, his expression warring between absolute fright, anger, and other sensations of this nature. Tseng seemed almost equally as affected and dipped his head in thought.

"I know this is a lot for you to digest. I digressed," he went on in a lower tone then before. "But I'd figured you'd learn about this from something or someone else soon enough anyway. This news- with the exception of Sephiroth's survival- is being spread around and people are beginning to wonder."

Good.

Zack snapped out of it when that rogue thought came to mind. Why was this news any good? People would start to panic upon hearing a dead man's name- especially once they hear that said individual was once a former hero whose killing indiscriminately left and right like some vengeful, genocidal manic with no sense of discrimination or pity. Sephiroth was an well-oiled war machine both before and after he 'died'.

But then again...

Zack snapped his fingers and received the notepad again, scribbling down the question whose answer he began to suspect.

Tseng looked it over and noted the wary, but well-concluded intelligence in Zack's knowing gaze. He came straight out with it as he said, "Yes, Zack. AVALANCHE is being blamed for what Sephiroth did, as you suspect."

"Called it," he rumbled lowly, and then clearing his throat when it tightened.

"-So you're aware of the reasons why then?"

Zack leveled his strict gaze on the Turk and blinked twice; remembering Cissnei's advice. Tseng seemed to note the gesture and withdrew into himself, folding his arms in the process.

"So... *wheeze* ...What're you gonna do?"

He hoped Tseng understood the slew of questions beneath that one query; and the hope was well-received.

"I'm going to try to keep tabs on AVALANCHE and their movements; there's a certain person of interest amongst them that I find is of relevance to you." Once again Zack tilted his head, Tseng going on as well, "We're trying to devise ways of dealing with Sephiroth on the down-low; but not much comes to mind. We both know he has no equal, despite actions being taken into consideration for his return."

Tseng's eyes finally left the patient's for the moment, his facial structure going rigid at some elusive, shifting thought. After a minute passed in this manner, he glanced back and said with evident weariness, "As for you Zack, I only ask you get some rest. I think I've said enough for tonight."

He rose from his seat and went to move a hand into his tux; suddenly whipping out a large, black case with yellow tape around it. Zack blinked quizzically as he wondered how the guy had managed to keep the fairly large box so well hidden.

Like how though-? Hoooow? How the in loving fuck did he do that?

"-I'll be sure to bring you the solution to your problems next time I visit. I hope you'll take my word for it when I say that this should, if it all works out, help not only you, but Aerith in the long run. And maybe perhaps..." Tseng's usually guarded, well-composed mask suddenly shifted and broke for a single moment after saying this, his words trailing off.

When he spoke next, it was with a tone Zack has never, EVER heard from him before. It had traces of a vulnerable inflection in it; minute perhaps, but there. Any other stranger would've missed it otherwise.

"Would you, after hearing all this, consider agreeing to what I'm asking you? There's a lot at stake here; but its also demanding and questionable at best."

"And what... *wheeze* -are you asking... exactly?"

"That you work with me without complaint, do as I say, no matter how questionable it is, in the name of letting both you and Aerith go. That you're helping us, as in the Turks only, with our dealings in Shinra, and maybe you'll quite possibly find your other companion along the way."

He means Cloud! Is Cloud really-?

He took a breath, "Even though you have the choice to walk out on this as things stand, no strings attached, I could only do this with your help. I don't like subjecting you to ultimatums, Zack, but you do have the ability to decide for yourself; just so you know. As for this-" He handed Zack the box. "I believe this rightfully belongs to you."

When Zack carefully took it and looked it over, he found out immediately just what this thing contained: All 88 of Aerith's missing letters; wholly intact, unopened, and likely stacked in a predetermined order in which they were received. He couldn't help but tremble as he eyed them, his stomach twisting around in slithery, maggot-filled wads. Reverently, he turned the thing over and picked at the tape, suddenly oblivious to Tseng's silent retreat to the door.

As for the Turk, he paused and glanced back at Zack; observing as the carefully-constructed composure the ex-SOLDIER has studiously endeavored to shield himself with tore away layer by layer. Tears shone from the corners of his ocean eyes, his patched, brutally-scarred chest giving an almighty heave on occasion. His weirdly bleached, almost bloodless hands shook, and his teeth briefly flashed beneath his respirator as a vast deluge of dysphoria drenched and drowned all other sensation in his war-torn gaze.

Feeling like an intruder, Tseng looked away; silently sauntering right out the door with Zack none the wiser.