Disclaimer: Original Character belongs to me.

04/Lazard - Deteriorate

The boy's bright, azure eyes sparkled as he stared at the massive building in the horizon, waiting for his mother. He was alone at the fountain in Sector 7 where his mother had instructed him not to leave. She had given him a few buttons to throw into the fountain, but he left them in his pocket; after all, there were only coins in the fountain, and buttons weren't of any monetary value so it would be silly to throw them in the water. Lazard was in awe at the sight of the huge building in front of him. It touched the sky already, but there was construction workers at the top of the building putting the addition of more floors. Squinting his little, six year old eyes, Lazard tried to imagine himself touching the top of the building by reaching his arm out through his distorted perspective.

"Lazard, sweetie, what are you doing?" his mother said as she emerged from the clear glass doors of the large building with an envelope in hand.

"Trying to touch the top of this building!" he yelled in excitement, still reaching his arms up to the sky. His mother just smiled at him as she sat on the edge of the fountain quietly observing her boy.

"Mother, what building is this? I've never seen such a huge building before."

Lazard's mother gently wrapped her arm around her son and faced him. Gracefully, she pushed her hair away from her face, and as she did a faint smell of a rose garden emerged and dispersed into the air. "This is the Shinra building. Shinra is a great company, Lazard, they will help you. One day you will go to school here, and maybe even one day you could become president of this building."

The boy's eyes grew wide with ambition at the thought of becoming the president of the biggest building he had ever seen. He jumped off the edge of the fountain exhilarated. "One day I'm going to be the owner of the building," he repeated confidently with pride.

"Yes," she laughed happily. "Now, let's get an ice cream since we have some money again."

"Director?" a soft, delicate voice became audible to his left disrupting his thoughts. Lazard quickly remembered he was in front of his secretaries' desk waiting to ask for a report.

"Rosmari, do you have the donation expense reports before I leave?" The last item he needed from his secretary before he could escape for the day. Typically, a Shinra work day lasted twelve hours, sometimes longer, 8 a.m. until 7:30 p.m. earliest, although in employee handbooks it was listed as 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. Lazard was hoping to leave by the time according to the books today, perhaps even earlier.

Rosmari transferred into Shinra from Costa del Sol University slightly over two years ago. She was native from Sol, living there all her life, and upon graduating she moved to the metropolis. After a year in Human Resources as a secretary, she transferred twelve floors above to the SOLDIER department. A young, thin, raven haired beauty that was too intelligent for secretarial work, but carrying little motivation to change her position. She had been quite helpful to Lazard since she arrived, he was grateful for that, and had become fond of her.

"Here you are, Director, all expenses have been paid in full to the proper non-profit cause." She placed the folder on his desk and gently smiled at the blonde. Rosmari's emerald eyes were warm just like her smile, they both glittered against her olive skin. He often asked her why she came to the stiff city of Midgar when she had the peace of the ocean at Costa del Sol. Lazard knew her reasons, but still asked to enjoy some conversation aside from business with her.

"I have left for the day if anyone asks for me," he told her, collecting the expense report along with the rest of his belongings. After a departing nod to Rosmari, he walked out.

If it wasn't for the elections, I would have taken a leave of absence.

Leaning against the sturdy metal support bar of the elevator, Lazard sighed heavily. Thoughts of his mother plagued his mind since he found out that her condition worsened from a few days ago. She was in the best care anyone in Midgar could receive, but it still wasn't enough- she wasn't cured. After a long eight year battle, her body was slowly withering away to the virus. Environmental scientists later believed the specific cancer virus she acquired was a result of Mako waste being polluted in areas near the Slums. Upon discovering this correlation Lazard constantly persuaded her to move away from the Slums, but it was already too late. As a result, she contracted this virus that was created because of Shinra's lack of responsibility in waste management, or at least that was how Lazard viewed it. She was dying, and he knew it, but denying it was much more comforting than the truth.

Lazard distracted himself by cleaning his glasses before exiting the elevator; even simple tasks became troublesome whenever he thought of the inevitable progression of her illness, especially recently. He tried to block the guilt that lingered in his mind since he wasn't near her side day and night, but the elections were also important to him. Lazard truly believed he could win the vice presidency, and deep down, he knew that his mother supported his decisions as well.

"Director!"

Damn. What now?

First Class SOLDIERS Angeal Hewley appeared to his left with Sephiroth following right behind him. Lazard stopped in his tracks once he took note of the concerned expressions spread across the normally stoic faces of his elite.

"Director," Angeal spoke calmly despite the unsettling expression on his face. "We're concerned about Genesis."

"Is he alright?" Lazard asked.

There never was a moment of peace, one of them had to stir trouble, and it was no surprise that it was Genesis. Despite the eccentric label from his comrades he was the rebel of the group, always provoking them with competition or irritating them by reciting excerpts from Loveless.

"His shoulder injury from last week in training is a lot more complicated than we originally thought," Sephiroth handed Lazard papers signed from the Science and Health Department, avoiding any eye contact since technically he was to blame for inflicting Genesis' wound. "As you can see, he needs extensive surgery in the area now."

Pressed for time, Lazard skimmed the heath documents to gather the details. His face grimaced; not one of his best men falling to illness. That was the last thing he needed in a time like this.

"Director," Angeal took notice of the anguish in Lazard's face. "The surgery isn't being performed until tomorrow morning. I can document the paperwork if you'd like."

"Yes, leave it on my desk and I'll sign for it late tonight." Relieved, Lazard gave the paperwork to Angeal. "I'll check in with you later as well as visit Genesis."

"Is she alright?" Angeal asked intuitively. He knew the answer, just as well as Sephiroth, but Lazard appreciated the concern nonetheless. Answering with a grim shake of his head the men knew the inevitable awaited.

-xx-

Ink marks splattered on the expense list that Rosmari gave Lazard. He quickly scribbled the last of his numerical corrections as his train from the Sector 5 Slums came to a halt at its destination of Sector 1.

Every month, each of Shinra's departments were required to donate money to specific non-profit foundations. Shinra Youth Program (SYP) was given the most funds because it educated young students in schools provided by Shinra, allowing them to excel higher than public schools. Shinra Elite Program (SEP) granted the top twenty precent of students in the Shinra Youth Program to continue with fully paid higher education and work opportunities through Shinra. There was also various other causes for the sciences especially for Mako cell research, all of which were solely beneficial to Shinra. Unfortunately the President, as well as higher executives of Shinra, did not find Children of the Slums (COTS) or REBUILD, a cause for rebuilding destructed living areas, suitable for their gil. However, Lazard did, and made a point of donating Shinra money, undocumented in papers, to these causes. It was forbidden against company policy and undoubtedly sneaky, but he felt righteous in giving back to where he grew up.

Thirty minutes late.

Lazard left the train station heading towards the hospital to finally see his mother. As a punctual man, Deusericus loathed when he was late for something, and this particular instance sliced through him deeply.

Intensive Care Unit, Room 223.

"Mother," he said gently. "I am so sorry I am late."

She was thin and ghastly pale, strung with IVs and medical monitors. Tubes were inserted at different parts of her body, ports for the anti-cancer infusions, as well as ports for the pain killers. Her once glowing, strawberry blonde hair was now a cloudy grey. Her finger nails were brittle and coarse against her rough, aged skin. Yet even near death, Lazard's mother opened her eyes with joy at the sight of her only son.

"Lazard..." she struggled to breath. The nurse would be giving her a sedative relatively soon. She would be falling into a mild comatose for a few hours, so he had only a few moments with her.

"It was another busy day again." He grasped her frail hand in his, jacketed by a white glove. "I hope you're not upset I am late."

She smiled at him, gently stretching the tubes that ran through her nose. Batting her thin eyelashes open, she turned slightly to face him.

"Don't worry about me." She forced herself to assure him she was okay. "How is the election coming along?"

"Next week we give our final speeches. President Shinra and the board makes the decision three days later." Lazard combed his fingers through his hair with his free hand. "I'll be relieved when it is over, it has been a long campaign."

"Yes, I can see the strain in your eyes." The nurse walked in with the sedatives, neither of them noticed her as she worked. "Lazard, please take care of yourself better. You worry about me, but look at yourself. I know you haven't slept well in weeks."

Lazard smiled sheepishly at her, she was right. He had become so engrossed in this election and it wasn't healthy. How could he take care of another person when he couldn't even take care of himself?

"It's only a week longer," he justified. They were silent for a few moments as the nurse left.

"I don't know much about politics, but from what I gather through our conversations, your competitors are either uninterested or underage. That doesn't really make much of a leader, does it?" Their eyes met, and Lazard nodded for his mother to continue.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, remember where you came from, Lazard. You have achieved so much for a boy growing up from the Slums, and no one can take that from you." Her eyes had a faint glimmer from being watery, she quickly wiped them with her free hand.

"I'm sure you'll win, Lazard." She squeezed his hand weakly.

"Relax mother, save your strength," he whispered as her eyelids fell slowly shut. Moments later, she was in a blissful sleep.

Lazard sat in a guarded position at the bedside as she rested, still encompassing her hand. Hours seemed to quickly pass as worries consumed his thoughts. Her health, Vice Presidency, Genesis, SOLDIER. Lazard just waited in the quiet of the evening, battling his own demons.

-xx-