Chapter Twenty-One: To Rebuild
Young doctor Malv was the one to present the report to Hojo. He set the file on the desk and slid it to the professor. The professor's cold, bony hands opened it and began to leaf through the papers. "Leandra has been disposed of, then?"
The Turk at Malv's side grit his teeth, something like a feral snarl barely restrained by his grimacing lips. "Lavina is dead," Malv said without emotion. "I administered the lethal injection myself."
"You have evidence of this, I take it?"
"The digital recording is on the disc, professor."
Hojo's eyes narrowed, as if in a challenge, but he put it into his computer. Malv thought that the Turk would surely blow his cover as he watched the proceedings again – her sorrowful submission, evidenced by a bowing of her head, just before all the light and life left her wide, teary eyes.
"And the body?"
"Cremated."
Hojo balked. "You were told to bring it to me. I might have been able to get some use out of her yet."
The Turk swallowed an outburst, and it was noticeable even to Hojo. It was a moment before the Turk could control himself and return to his position at attention. Hojo frowned, but did not comment.
Malv continued, shooting a look to the Turk. "There is evidence enough of her death in that file to satiate you. Her body was returned to her family, and they had her ashes scattered on the wind. She will not interfere with Sephiroth any longer, professor."
The black-eyed professor leaned back in his chair. "I suppose I cannot complain. Who is the Turk?"
Malv motioned for the dark man to come forward. His hair was pure white, with long bangs that concealed one eye. The eye that was revealed was dark, intense amber. He had the face of one descended from Wutai – with thinner, slanted eyes and tight, colorless lips. A long, jagged scar ran from his right temple to his jaw, and another thin, pink scrape beneath his left eye.
"This is Daichi. He has been assigned to Sephiroth's protection."
Hojo examined the man for a long time with disapproving eyes. "The last Turk assigned to my specimen turned out to be an accomplice to that wretched woman."
"Mr. Nicholai has been dishonorably discharged from duty and returned to his home," Malv said. "Daichi will not make the same errors."
Hojo scowled. "See that he does not. His duties begin immediately."
Malv let Daichi into the laboratory, but would not accompany the Turk inside. "You're on your own now," Malv said. "The Turks can't cover for you again."
"I don't need anything else."
"I would learn from Lavina if I were you. Caution and patience are the answers."
"I am aware."
"Good, then. You have five minutes before security turns on. Make the most of it." And then Malv sealed Daichi inside.
The Turk looked at his surroundings for a long time. Nothing had really changed. Everything was still white or metal. The only sounds were monitors. The air was as stagnant as death.
Alone, curled in his crib, a silver-child rubbed red and swollen eyes with chubby fists. "Vee," he whimpered, sniffling and coughing weakly. "Vee-uh…"
Daichi approached the crib and laid a single hand on the infant's back.
The baby startled, pushing himself up on all fours. Fey, green eyes turned to look at the intruder into his bleak world, and he blinked, unmoving, several times. Slowly, the boy eased himself back into a sitting position, his eyes still locked with Daichi's.
Gradually, light returned to the child's eyes, and they crinkled in glee as he grinned ear to ear. "'Mian!" he shouted. He pulled himself up and wrapped his arms around Daichi's hand, hugging it close to his body. "'Mian!"
Damian smiled and picked up the infant, patting his back as he rocked the child back and forth. "Couldn't fool you, could I, little guy?"
She was warm, even lying under thin cotton sheets. She was dressed in a satin nightdress, with her hair washed and combed. Her eyes saw colors – blurs at first, and then shapes. A bamboo wardrobe and desk, books in a foreign script stacked on a table of marble. She lay on a mat – firm, but soft – on a wooden floor. Cushions, opulently embroidered, surrounded her body. Light spilled through a translucent screen painted with a design of a phoenix wreathed in flames. There were other paintings of flowers and brides in elaborate attire, and scrolls of fine calligraphy on the walls.
From these sensations, she began.
She rose from the pillows, her head still throbbing. She winced, the light paining her eyes. "Hello?" she called, and her own voice sounded foreign. "Where am I?"
A screen parted, and a woman entered the room. "You are up, child," she said in a voice with an accent strikingly different from her own. "How do you feel?"
"I hurt." The words came out without thought, and she pondered them for a long time. She was not in pain. But something was still wrong. Something hurt, she just didn't know what it was.
The woman sat cross-legged beside her bed. She had salt-and-pepper hair tied back in a tidy bun atop her head. Her face was lined with age, but her eyes were kind, and her smile was gentle. "Tell me what you remember about the past few days, dear."
She thought, and thought long and hard. "I-nothing," she said, ashamed. "My name…this place…I don't know any of it!"
"Hush, child," the woman soothed, taking her hands in her own weathered ones. "You took a terrible fall, and hit your head very hard. Memory may take time to return."
"I don't know this place!" she cried. Though she could not validate it with prior memory, she knew she was in a foreign land. "I…I don't know you! This…this isn't right!"
"Child," there was great concern in the woman's eyes. "You are mistaken. This is your home, love. You are betrothed to my son, and so you are my daughter. You live here, in Wutai, with us. We are your family. You belong with us, and we love you. Surely you can feel the truth, if you can't remember it."
She felt warmth from this woman, but no truth. She shook her head, not knowing what to say.
"I am Misuki, and your name is Dawn…"
Her hair stood on end. This was a lie, and she knew it, even if it was not maleficent.
"…you met my son in Midgar…"
Midgar. She knew that name; it rang true. She tried it a couple times, tasting it on her tongue. It felt right.
"And he brought you here after he proposed."
This, too, was truth.
"He…he had black hair. And eyes like the forest. And…and a scar…on his hand…" The words came, but the images would not. She clutched her head and bit back a scream. Her heart burned with feelings for this man, but she could not remember a face.
"His name...his name…! It was Da…Darin…Darryl…." Tears were streaming down her face now. She desperately grappled for a name, a face, a voice…any memory at all. There was nothing there.
"Daichi," Misuki said softly.
She blinked several times, whispered the word. "No. No, I don't know what it was but it wasn't…I'm so sure…!"
"His hair is white," Misuki continued. "Like the driven snow. His eyes are amber. His hands are not scarred, but his face is."
"That's not right!"
"Child," she said. "You are terribly hurt. Rest your body, and your mind. You are safe here."
Misuki pressed her shoulder into the pillows and readjusted the covers around her fondly. "Daughter, it hurts to see you in such pain. I will pray to the ancestors that they will speed your recovery." She kissed her forehead softly, and gave a small bow. "I will pray for your spirit as well, that it may be at ease."
She laid among the pillows, too desperate to sleep. She would have given her life at that time for just the smallest glimpse of her fiancé, but there was nothing there.
And behind it all, something in her soul wept for a loss too vast to be truly forgotten.
She wandered among the gardens for a long time, too restless to lie down any longer. She sought answers from the clear skies, from her reflection in the fountain's waters, but there was nothing. Vast, consuming nothingness. Sometimes she wept, sometimes she paced, and sometimes she dashed through the greenery, her mind responding to a call she did not understand.
Someone needed her. She knew it with all that she was.
She had collapsed on one of the benches, and laid there watching the sunset. The mountains in the distance were foreign. She felt like she was caged in; a prisoner.
"Daughter, what ails you?" The woman she had tentatively accepted as her mother-in-law approached.
"I don't know," she answered truthfully.
"Time will heal," Misuki answered wisely, sitting beside her. "My son, when he returns, he will help you to know what is right."
"…How soon will that be?"
"Daichi serves in the military with Shinra, dear. You must be patient. He will send word as soon as he can."
"Shinra," she said the word, and her heart burned. Something was there – something she had lost. For a moment, the name of the place filled her with a hatred that she could not explain.
"Mother," she said, but the word still sounded wrong. "They…Shinra…took something from me."
"You mustn't be bitter about them taking Daichi. He is serving honorably."
"No, no…something else. Something…silver."
Misuki frowned. "Dawn—"
"My name is not Dawn."
Misuki shook her head, but did not argue. "Child, you must be patient with yourself. Answers will come with time."
Neither woman spoke for a long time. Gradually, the sun began to set, and the garden was filled with shadows.
"Let us eat, dear. You must be exhausted. It will do you good to eat and meet the rest of the family."
Slowly, without a word, she followed her towards the garden entrance.
A small shadow darted from one bush to another, upsetting some birds and other critters there. Dawn jumped, but Misuki was not surprised. "Tseng, it is too late for such foolishness."
"Tseng?" Dawn breathed.
"Daichi's nephew. Has he told you of him?"
"A child!" she exclaimed.
"Tseng is rather young, yes-"
"No! That's what was left behind at Shinra…a child…a silver child…!" Her words became quicker and quicker as her voice rose in volume, her chest tightening painfully.
"Come, Dawn, enough foolishness—"
"A boy…an angel! My angel! My son!"
Misuki gripped Dawn's arms. This time her grasp was painful. Her eyes were steely, devoid of emotion. "Enough, child," this time, there was no endearment in the term.
"They've taken him from me! I tried to run…and then…and then…"
"Enough, Lavina!"
The young woman that Misuki called Dawn stood in the darkness, all her worry, gone. She panted, gasping for breath, clutching her heart. "…That is my name," she whispered. "Lavina."
Misuki's lips tightened into a nearly invisible line. "I misspoke. You remind me of a woman I once knew with that name."
"No…I am Lavina. And that silver child…he is mine."
Misuki closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Damian was right," she said. "This is going to be very difficult."
"That is all I can do," Malv said. "You should let her rest now."
Misuki did not leave when the doctor did, staying at the girl's side instead. "She will not remember?"
"She will be like when she got here. Confused, disoriented, likely in hysterics. You must work harder to convince her of the story we practiced. She's strong-willed, but I don't think even she could retain her memories after undergoing the procedure twice.
"I have tried to leave traces of her memories of you. Build on those. She will cling to any familiarity. She will trust you, this time."
Misuki took the hand of the girl, now deeply asleep. She was so caught up in thoughts about her son's last request that she did not hear Malv leave.
"If she remembers the kid, she will come back to Midgar for him," Damian had said, "and they will kill her. Convince her that she belongs here in Wutai. She's safe here. I…I will stay and look after Sephiroth. Somehow."
At first she could scarcely believe that her son would submit the woman he loved to such treatment, but with time, she had come to understand.
"They'll kill her, mother. I have no choice."
And, slowly, she was coming to accept it.
"Just don't let her forget," she could hear his voice as clearly as if he was beside her now. "Don't let her forget that she is my bride, and I am coming for her."
The girl's eyes flickered open, and a breathy groan escaped her lips.
"Good morning, Dawn," Misuki said with a smile. "Are you feeling any better?"
Recognition flickered in her eyes. "M-Mother?" she asked hesitantly.
"That's right, child. I'm so glad you remember."
Misuki could tell that this time was different. Her eyes were blank – there was no question or suspicion in them. She was broken this time, she could see it plain as day.
She prayed that Damian was right, and that they could rebuild her with time.
"Mother," she moaned. "I dreamed of silver angels…"
"That's a lovely dream, Dawn."
"No," she said with tears in her eyes. "Mother, it hurt."