A dark-haired man clad in a black business suit stood by a large glass window on floor sixty-six of the Shinra Headquarters, looking down into the city of Midgar. The sun that shone on the city that morning could not, as in most mornings, penetrate the darkness of the nether slums. This city was largely his own handiwork— at least, ever since he joined the Shinra Corporation and became the head of Urban Development, several years ago- but for some reason he wasn't feeling especially proud of it at that particular moment. He turned away from the window, looking into the cold, clean, empty conference room. The meeting was to be held later that night.

The door pushed open, and a man walked into the conference room. He was in his mid-thirties, about the same age as Reeve, and had dark hair and a thin, pale-skinned countenance. Reeve recognized Tseng, the leader of the Turks, the secret service employed by Shinra. Their acquaintance had been limited, maybe because the Turks were under the command of Rufus, the president's son, and rarely participated in executive conferences.

Tseng nodded a curt greeting at Reeve. "Reeve."

Reeve nodded in silent acknowledgment. The Turk walked towards the window and stood in the spot Reeve has vacated, looking outside with apparent abstraction. The lines in his face seemed a little grim, and Reeve did not want to interrupt his musings, so he remained silent as the Turk apparently mulled over a though. After a few moments of silence, Tseng suddenly spoke. "We got her."

"Got who?" Reeve inquired politely. He wasn't interested in the dirty business of the Turks, and didn't feel like turning into a confidant.

"Aerith. The Cetra." Tseng withdrew a cigarette box from his pocket, and fumbled with it with nervous fingers. The Turk, usually so cold-tempered, had an unusual air of agitation about him. He turned towards Reeve abruptly, offering the box. "Want one?"

"No, thank you. I don't touch these. Besides, it's against the rules to smoke in here."

"Damn the rules," Tseng replied, sticking the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and lighting it up. He smoked in silence for a while, blowing trails of gray, twirling haze into the cold air of the office. Reeve felt unaccountably curious about the news; more because of Tseng's behavior than because of anything else. He had heard of the Cetra before, in bits and pieces that he occasionally caught in conversations carried by Hojo and others who were apparently allowed into this highly protected matter; but he had never seen her. Well, he thought, it wasn't really his line of work. "Where do you keep her?" he asked.

Tseng glanced at him. "Where do you think?"

"Floor sixty-seven, I'd guess."

"Correct." The slender, dark-haired man was silent again. But then he suddenly threw the cigarette down. "Hojo wants to take a 'look' at her," he said, his voice vehement. "A LOOK at her. Damn him!"

"I don't see the problem with that," Reeve said carefully. "It's Hojo's privilege to deal with these matters. He probably needs to investigate her. After all, she's the last of her kind."

Tseng turned on him. "Don't play the idiot, Reeve! You know Hojo. Aerith is not some experimental animal of his!"

Reeve maintained his silence. Then why, he thought, did you bring her to him? But he replied with a carefully neutral voice: "I can't see that you can do anything about it."

"The hell I can't."

"You mean that you can?"

"I mean to have a talk with Rufus about it," said Tseng shortly. "He's coming back later tonight."

And a hell lot Rufus would care, Reeve reflected. But he kept his thoughts to himself.

The door opened again to admit Rude, and both men glanced towards it. The bald-headed Turk coughed politely. "Sir," he said, "I have news regarding Reno. The latest reports say that he's been hurt badly in slum seven."

"How bad?" Tseng inquired quickly.

"He was in a comma when we transferred him to the hospital. He's out of danger now, but it'll be a while before he recovers."

Tseng drew a breath, and his fingers withdrew yet another cigarette. "Wonderful," he muttered. "This is exactly what we need now. Damn these Avalanche idiots." He addressed Reeve again. "If I knew Aerith would join them, I would've insisted that she stay here under tight surveillance. Stupid girl."

"I thought you cared about her," said Reeve calmly.

Tseng flushed, glancing at Rude. "The hell! I never said that."

"Sir, I think that we better opt for replacement until Reno gets better," Rude commented, diplomatically ignoring Reeve's remark.

The color left Tseng's face slowly. He nodded an assent. "Yes, you're right. Maybe we can take that blond what's-her-name. She's been doing well in the service."

"You must mean Elena."

"Whatever. Elena." Tseng turned to the window again, staring outside silently. Rude could apparently tell that he won't get anything else out of him. "Well then," he said. "I will report the new appointment to Rufus. Good thing he's coming back tonight."

"Yes, very good," Tseng said, almost inaudibly. "Rude, if you are going to see Reno, report to me how he's doing."

"I will, Sir."

Rude withdrew, silently closing the door. Tseng remained standing by the window. He made no effort to talk to Reeve again, and ignored his presence completely.

Reeve turned to go. He had made a decision that moment: to go see this... Aerith.

The girl sat on the white bed in the tightly-secured cell, and as the door opened she looked up. Reeve halted at the doorway, his hand on the handle. He was surprised that he managed to get this far.

He was lucky that Hojo was absent, and that the guards recognized him and were sufficiently in awe of his authority to let him inside for a few moments. He lied, saying that he had permission from the president. Had Hojo been around his chances of getting through would have been minimal.

On his way he passed near the lab, and his eyes caught some reports lying on the top of a desk. He couldn't resist the temptation and quietly entered, then ran his eyes over them quickly. Each had a list of information typed out at the top. "Name: Aerith Gainsborough. Age: 22. Birth date: February 7. Status: Cetra. Notes: Daughter of Ifalna, Cetra." Underneath there were tightly scrawled findings in Hojo's incomprehensible handwriting. On the first report, near the name of Aerith's mother, Hojo added the following: "Presumed father: Professor Gast." Reeve dropped the papers, not appreciating the humor. He always disliked Hojo, and his turning that girl into a thing on paper made him feel rather nauseous. He suddenly understood Tseng.

He now examined the girl that was the subject of the reports. She was a tiny thing with a charming, vivid countenance, and a thick rope of tightly-coiled brown hair. She jumped up apprehensively when she saw him.

"Who are you?" she asked immediately. "Are you one of Hojo's assistants? You don't look like one of them."

"I'm not," Reeve replied. Behind, he heard the guard's voice: "Five minutes for the visit, Sir. Then you have to leave."

Reeve shut the door quietly without answering. Aerith was still staring at him, her expression perplexed and slightly suspicious. "You can't be a Turk," she observed. "I know all the Turks."

"You know Tseng," Reeve remarked. He didn't mean to say it, but it came out, as a sort of a statement. Maybe he wanted to see her reaction.

Aerith shrugged, nodded— smiled. She WAS cute. "I do," she replied.

"Tseng told me about you."

"Oh." Aerith examined him, looking thoughtful. "So you came here to see me, the Cetra? Just out of curiosity?"

Reeve caught the wary note in her voice. He was not surprised. She probably couldn't conceive why anyone would visit her without a stated purpose. "Something like that," he answered. That, he thought, had been truthful enough.

"Well, now you see that I'm not very different than anyone else."

Reeve caught the forlorn tone in her voice. "I can see that very well," he replied genially. "I'm sorry if it makes you feel like you're on display. I was just curious to know who was the girl that Tseng cared so much for."

Aerith turned slightly red at this; but not, Tseng thought, with happiness. "Oh, I see." She was quiet for a moment, contemplating, then she gave a shrug and smiled at Reeve slightly. "I know Tseng for a long time. Ever since I was a child. But he hasn't always been that nice to me, you see. Especially not when I was captured yesterday."

"Ah. Yes, I see."

"So, what's your position at Shinra?" Aerith inquired, apparently wishing to change the subject.

Reeve shrugged, returning her smile. "Nothing of importance, my dear."

"Important enough to let you see me in private," Aerith remarked shrewdly. "That's important."

"I am not Hojo's spy, Aerith," Reeve said gently, knowing that, despite her friendliness, she was still worried. The guard's deep voice said: "One minute, Sir."

Reeve shrugged. "Well, that concludes it, I suppose. Tell me, Aerith: what did Hojo ask you?"

Aerith's eyes flashed. "What does it matter?" she said, with asperity. "He won't get much out of me about anything. Maybe he thinks—" But then something seemed to strike her, because she halted, her countenance changing. She turned her face away. "Never mind."

"You will mind soon enough," a new voice remarked. Hojo's voice. Aerith jumped at this, staring at the door. The scientist entered the cubicle with his slow gait. "Reeve," he said with his dry, derisive voice. "I should throw you out right now for this unwarranted, and may I add, impermissible intrusion. You're just lucky you're too unimportant to care about." He looked towards Aerith. "I won't have you spoiled for my experimentation, my pretty little Cetra. Please leave, Reeve. Who sent you anyway?"

"Tseng," Aerith replied immediately before Reeve could answer. "I thought that it was you, Hojo, but I should have seen that he was too decent to be an agent of yours."

Hojo's body shook in silent laughter. "Or too mild, dense and boring. All right, this comedy is over— right about now. Reeve, tell that Turk to keep his cool. I heard that he means to make trouble through Rufus— delusions, delusions! Rufus could have been as great a scientist as I am, if he wasn't so fond of public displays. Well. That's enough." The scientist gestured to the guard as he spoke. The guard nodded, and placed his arm on Reeve's, leading him out.

"Thank you for your time, Aerith," said Reeve, before the door closed after him. "And take care." He really meant it. She was a nice young woman; and, Cetra or not, it was an inexcusable crime to let her fall into Hojo's hands.

Later that evening Reeve stood by the same glass window at which he met Tseng earlier, deliberating over what he had seen that day. He reasoned that the Avalanche people to whom Aerith belonged would come to rescue her soon; and he found himself hoping that they'll succeed. But if they will, what next?

To spy on them would be useful, an inner voice said. Reeve listened to it in mild surprise. He didn't know that he had such a criminal mind. But, he thought, it did seem a good idea, and he had a notion how he could go about it. Convincing President Shinra to do it would be easy. Yes. A spy, a disguise... and a chance to meet Aerith again.

© Written by Hadas Rose
Final Fantasy VII is © Square, 1997.

5/13/21: I posted this without revising it. But then I reviewed it and realized that it needed revising, especially since it's more popular than I anticipated. So. Now it's revised.