Darkness pulses in her vision, the scenery fading in and out at irregular intervals. Every time the blackness recedes, the scenery is different, and Tifa realizes she is lapsing in and out of consciousness, drifting between painful wakefulness and even more painful memories. Most of the images in her mind are familiar, demons she's grappled with many times in the past. Some are new. They all hurt.
The heavy curtain drops and opens again and Tifa is back in the canyon at Mt. Nibel, only eight years old. She's kneeling, staring sightlessly at the crumpled body of her little blond neighbor, Cloud. Dead because she wasn't strong enough. Her heart aches remembering that failure. The first of many.
Darkness falls and rises and now she's back in the village of Nibelheim. She's a fifteen-year-old Third-Class SOLDIER and yet she can only watch helplessly while Sephiroth torches her hometown for no discernible reason. Her father… Mrs. Strife… all the villagers she had known are dead and dying because she wasn't strong enough to stop the madman.
The fire fades into blackness. Then lightning strobes and thunder crashes. She's kneeling again, this time in thick, clinging mud, holding Zack's hand while he breathes his last. His chest is riddled with bullet holes. She has no idea how he has survived this long, but his struggle is over now. Zack hands her the Buster Sword, a treasure he received from his own mentor, passing it on. "Never forget… your SOLDIER honor." He – like Cloud – dies to protect her because she can't protect herself.
The storm clouds above her head darken instead of pass, seeming to descend closer to the ground, blotting out the sun as they fall… just like the Sector 7 plate. Tifa is standing, staring as a million tons of metal crush the slums, 7th Heaven, Jessie, Johnny, Marlene, Barret, Biggs, and Wedge. Her new home and her new friends destroyed before she could even appreciate them properly, all because she hadn't been there to stop Shinra's plans.
Even as she turns away from the carnage, she sees a figure in a suit dragging Aerith away. Tifa draws the Buster Sword, prepared to give chase, to free the flower girl, but before she can, she feels the bullet tear through her chest. Agonizing pain paralyzes her and she falls. She's no Zack. It takes only one round to bring her down. The black haze of unconsciousness seeps in again, blocking her final view of the woman in the pink dress and the figure in the dark suit.
At last, Tifa's awareness returned, her delirium gone. There was a lumpy mattress beneath her and a dark smudge above her, obscured in her watery eyes. The blur moved and she realized it was a person leaning over her prone body. She blinked, struggling to focus. Had someone saved her?
"Good. You're awake." The voice was high, feminine, and seemed vaguely familiar.
Her vision cleared, fixing on the copper hair and brown eyes of the young woman standing next to her bed. She had pleasant features and an encouraging smile, but two things put the lie to her soft appearance: the coolness of her gaze and the black suit she was wearing.
She was a Turk. Tifa half rose, lunging at the Turk with her right fist. But she was still slow, weary, wounded, and the young woman leaned aside and captured her limb under one arm, deflecting Tifa's follow up blow with her free hand before grabbing the ex-SOLDIER's wrist and twisting it painfully.
"Let me go!" Tifa shouted, then let out a hiss of pain as the Turk applied more pressure to her wrist, which in turn sent slivers of agony down through her chest to where she had been shot.
The other woman's smile was gone now. "You should be more grateful. This isn't the first time I've saved you."
Working past the pain, Tifa yanked her right hand back and jabbed at the Turk's elbow, loosening her grip enough to free her other limb. Instead of countering her move, the copper-haired woman backed off. Tifa glared at her. "I don't know who you are or what you're talking about."
"Yeah, well… you were kind of out of it last time, too," the woman said, crossing her arms. "You can call me Cissnei."
She'd heard the name before, but where? Tifa sat up on the bed, wincing at the ache in her chest, lifting a hand to the wound. Her shirt was off and the injury had been cleaned and bandaged. She glanced around, finding herself in a small, musty room. The old, worn furnishings told her she was still in the slums. Her SOLDIER uniform top was hanging over a chair and the Buster Sword leaned against one wall. "Where are we?"
"Sector 5. I asked a couple of the survivors from Seven to help me carry you here." Before Tifa could ask, Cissnei answered her next question. "It's been about a day and a half."
Too long, but not as long as she had feared. "Why did you help me?"
Cissnei's lips tightened. "I have my reasons. At any rate, I used a restorative materia to help heal you. You recovered faster than I thought. The Ancient must have used her powers to help mend your wound."
Tifa blinked. She remembered hearing Tseng using the term earlier. "Ancient? You mean Aerith?" Alarm surged through her body. "Where is she?!" She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, swaying unsteadily, weak and woozy from blood loss.
"Take it easy," Cissnei said. She didn't even uncross her arms or move to help her. "I did what I could, but you're not 100% yet."
The mercenary staggered to the chair to retrieve her shirt, tugging it on stiffly. "Don't care. It's my fault she was captured. Tell me where she is."
"Do you plan on beating the information out of me?" Tifa turned at the hardness in the Turk's voice, looking her over more carefully this time. She couldn't have been much older than Tifa was, and her girlish figure and voice made it easy to underestimate her, but if she was a Turk, there was more to her than mere appearances. Aside from the black, three-piece suit, Cissnei wore fingerless gloves of the same color. A red and white shuriken dangled from one hip.
Although she was injured, Tifa still had her Mako-enhanced strength, and the close-quarters would give her an advantage in a fight here. It could go either way. "I will if I need to," she said. She waited a moment. "Do I need to?"
Cissnei looked away. "The girl was taken to the Shinra building in Sector 0. Professor Hojo wants to study her."
"Because she's an Ancient," Tifa said.
The Turk nodded. "The last Ancient."
"And what does that mean, exactly?"
"The Ancients – the Cetra, that is – have special powers, like how Aerith was able to help heal you. It's also said they can commune with the planet. When they die, Cetra are supposed to go a place called 'the Promised Land', a land flowing with life and energy."
Tifa's voice lowered. "Mako."
"So they say," Cissnei said. "Shinra wants the girl to lead them to the promised land so they can harvest the Mako energy there."
"And then they can suck it dry and ruin that, too?" Tifa asked bitterly.
The other woman's eyes flashed and her shoulders tensed. "The company's provided a better life for millions with the help of Mako."
"At what cost?"
"I'm not going to argue with you," Cissnei said, relaxing again with a visible effort. "Besides, it doesn't matter. Shinra won't find the promised land, because I intend to help you rescue your friend."
The ex-SOLDIER stared at her rescuer, suspicious. "Why?"
Cissnei shook her head. "You wouldn't understand and you wouldn't believe me."
"Try me."
The copper-haired woman in the black suit didn't answer for a long time. Her eyes drifted to where the Buster Sword rested against the cracked, peeling wall. Her answer, when it came, was short. "Zack," she said softly.
With that name spoken, memories flooded through Tifa's mind. She remembered now. She remembered where she'd heard the Turk's voice. She remembered where she'd heard her name. And she remembered when Cissnei had first saved her life.
It was after her and Zack had escaped from their long imprisonment in a Shinra laboratory. Tifa had been nearly comatose with Mako sickness at the time and couldn't remember many details. They had passed through a darkened town, down a long road and to the coast.
The mercenary clutched at her head with one hand, glowing eyes squeezed shut.
"Is she the other sample that escaped…?"
"Stay away from her, Cissnei! I told you not to -"
"She doesn't look well, Zack."
"Mako addiction. It's pretty bad."
"The experiments?"
"That's right."
She remembered the distinctive digital tones of a PHS. Someone had tried making a call.
"Hey! What are you –"
Silence. Then…
"Tseng. I've lost the target." Another silence and the phone snapped shut. "That's how it is… you have to get away safely."
Tifa looked up again, staring at the Turk with new eyes. "You let us escape. Even gave us a bike."
"So, you do remember," Cissnei said. "Zack was… I disobeyed orders to let you two go." A small, sad smile crossed her face. "I wasn't in the mood to recapture you."
"But that doesn't explain why you're helping me now."
Cissnei walked over to the Buster Sword, reaching out with one hand and almost touching the textured grip of the big weapon. "You're what's left," she said at last. "His legacy. He wanted to keep you safe. For his sake, I…" she trailed off.
"And Aerith?"
The Turk looked at her sharply. "Don't you know? Gainsborough was his girlfriend."
Tifa nodded slowly, remembering their conversation in the park. "I didn't know for sure. I guessed it, though." She sighed. "I still don't know if I can trust you. Why choose to help me or Aerith now? What made you turn against Shinra? What changed?"
"Besides what happened to Zack?" Cissnei's voice was hoarse. "Bringing down the Sector 7 plate. There were a lot of innocent people down there, but the president doesn't care. He would've sacrificed half the city to take out AVALANCHE. That's not someone I want to work for."
The dark-haired mercenary hesitated. "And you're sure AVALANCHE was under the plate when it fell? They couldn't have escaped?"
"I'm sorry. They were dead before the pillar was destroyed."
In her heart, Tifa had known it was true, but hearing it confirmed took her breath away. Barret. Jessie. Biggs, Wedge, Johnny, and Marlene. "I should've been there." She clenched her fists in helpless rage, against herself and the Shinra. "I could have helped them. I let them down, but if there's anything I can still salvage out of this disaster, I have to try." She looked squarely at the Turk. "I don't have a lot of options short of storming the Shinra building. You may be lying about everything, but I could use your help."
Cissnei turned to face her, sticking out one gloved hand. "For Zack," she said.
"For Aerith," Tifa added, taking the Turk's hand and shaking it, sealing their partnership. "Let's take her back."
Aerith pressed her back against the glass wall of the cylindrical chamber. For what little good it did. The observation cell was less than twenty feet across and half as tall. There wasn't much room to maneuver and no escape save through the locked door and the elevator currently occupied by the creature Hojo had brought in with her.
It was a cross between a big cat and a wolf, but notably different from either species. The scars and tattoos covering its body made it look fierce and wild. Even though its humped shoulder stood only as high as Aerith's waist, the bristling fur in shades of red and orange made it look even bigger. It's long, lion-like tail lifted when the creature spotted her, sticking straight out behind it in a show of aggression. She could swear there was actually a small flame flickering at the end of the tail.
The flower girl clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. She had faced Turks, mutants, and criminals in her twenty-two years. Her life had been dangerous even before she had begun living in the slums of Midgar and it certainly hadn't gotten any safer since then. Death was a constant under the plate: Murder, disease, monster attack, accident… it happened every day, sometimes for no reason at all. Aerith was prepared for death.
She wasn't prepared for this.
One of her balled up fists slammed against the glass wall. Nothing. Not that she had expected it. For good measure, she kicked back with one booted foot. The glass didn't even shudder.
"Why so uncooperative?" the lab-coat wearing man outside the chamber asked. He pushed up his glasses, a gleeful sneer lighting his features under his lank, stringy black hair. His name was Hojo. "I'm lending a hand to two endangered species. Both yours and its are on the brink of extinction. Without me, you precious animals will all disappear."
"You can't do this," Aerith said, struggling to keep her voice steady.
Hojo gave a theatrical sigh. "It's necessary. Our study of your Cetra genetic structure is taking too much time, and you likely won't survive until its completion. We'll need to breed you, and preferably produce an offspring that will last a while."
The young woman in the chamber felt a hot surge of angry humiliation. How dare he treat her – treat anyone – this way. Like she was nothing more than a specimen. An animal. Breeding stock for his sick experiments.
She wanted to glare at the scientist, but she didn't dare take her eyes off the red-furred creature slowly advancing towards her.
The other specimen regarded her with one surprisingly intelligent ochre eye. The other was scarred and closed from an old injury. The creature bared its teeth, the prelude for an attack or worse. "Enough of this charade."
Aerith blinked. Had the creature just spoken? "I'm through playing your game," it continued in a deep, accented voice. It backed off again, tail relaxing, sitting back on its haunches.
A high-pitched peal of laughter came from the bespectacled scientist. "You almost had me going, Thirteen. I was wondering if you were actually going to go through with it. You have been here for a long time, after all. Maybe long enough to consider taking advantage of the situation."
"You disgust me, Hojo," Thirteen said, looking away dismissively. He faced Aerith. "I apologize for frightening you, but I was hoping to take the doctor unawares."
Hojo laughed again. "And you failed. Back on the elevator." With a growl, the creature stepped back onto the circular platform at the center of the chamber, which descended slowly to the floor below. When the elevator shaft closed again, Aerith finally felt safe enough to turn and look out to the lab outside her transparent cell. Observation walkways surrounded the chamber, everything decked out in stainless steel, clean and sterile. Computers and sensory devices lined the walls, blinking and humming as they went about whatever tasks they were set to.
"Well that didn't go the way you planned, did it?" she asked, defiant.
A thin eyebrow arched over her captor's glasses. "What makes you say that? I got exactly what I wanted. As I always do."
Aerith stared. "Are you blind? Thirteen didn't play along with your perverted scheme."
Hojo merely smiled. "Tell me… how do you feel?" The Cetra pressed her lips together, refusing to humor the man any longer. Her limbs were still trembling with adrenaline letdown and impotent rage at her humiliation. Hojo's smile broadened. "You don't need to answer. The sensors in the chamber are recording everything. Electronic impulses, temperature, stress, blood flow, facial muscle movement, everything. You have no secrets." He clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing back and forth in front of the cell. "Thirteen was never meant to impregnate you, silly thing. You can't cross-breed different species like that. I simply wanted to see your reaction."
"What's the point of this?" Aerith asked. "Why are you doing this to me? I'm already here. You're already running tests. Why the mind games?"
"Because you still have hope," Hojo said. "You're holding on to some shred of belief you'll escape or someone will rescue you. You resist. Maybe not consciously, but you resist nonetheless. We can't have that. You are Shinra property now. You are my property. This is my domain." His voice hardened suddenly, going from conversational to threatening in an instant. "Don't you think I could've have administered something to Red Thirteen to force him to mate with you? That I couldn't drug you into enjoying it?"
Aerith's blood went cold. "You wouldn't." Her voice quavered and she hated herself for it.
Hojo approached the wall of the chamber, pressing his hands and face against it. "I will do whatever I have to for science. If that involves forcing you to breed with any sample in this lab, I would." He backed away again, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling. "I'm a professor. This was a lesson. One you must never forget. You are nothing here."
"You're crazy," the flower girl breathed. She found she was shaking again, and she hugged herself, trying to still her trembling limbs. "You're an insane monster."
The scientist gave another sneering smile. "I recall your mother saying the same thing to me once when she was in your place." He turned away. "We're done for now. Guards! Take it back to its cell." He walked to a nearby console and began typing at it. A pair of uniformed sentinels opened the observation chamber to escort Aerith out.
She felt as if she might hyperventilate. The reminder of Ifalna, her dead birth mother, was too much. Her breathing was shallow and dark spots danced at the corners of her eyes. The shaking was getting worse. "You bastard," she growled between grit teeth. "You bastard!" Her voice rose to a scream. "I hate you!"
Hojo chuckled, not even bothering to look at her. "Excellent. Your hatred will provide a useful data point."
Aerith lunged at the maniac, but the guards caught her before she made it two steps, dragging her out of the lab and back to the tiny cell they kept her in between tests. Tears threatened to spill from her emerald eyes as she heard Hojo's chuckle turn into a full laugh.
It had been a long, exhausting climb from the edge of Wall Market all the way to the upper plate. Over one hundred and fifty feet straight up, through a jungle of cables and twisted, broken train tracks leftover from the destruction of the Sector 7 plate. A difficult path, but a necessary one. No trains were running between the slums and the upper city right now. If Tifa had been at full health, it wouldn't have been as much of a strain, but the partially-healed bullet wound in her chest ached with every motion.
Cissnei's presence had been a good motivator. The ex-SOLDIER would be damned before she let a Turk beat her in a physical contest. It was with a small amount of petty satisfaction that she saw the copper-haired girl out of breath when they finally climbed onto the plate's surface.
They hadn't talked much on the way up. Tifa had been mostly wrapped up in her own thoughts and Cissnei was not inclined to be social towards her. What few words they had shared had not been pleasant. Cissnei had told the mercenary about the way AVALANCHE had met its end. They had fought to protect Sector 7, but – with his compatriots out of commission – Barret had been forced to battle Reno of the Turks by himself. He hadn't survived.
Barret had been loud and abrasive and bossy, but Tifa had never wished ill upon the man. She even admired the strength of his convictions. His death – and the deaths of the others – were more weights on her conscience.
The two of them rested for a bit in the mouth of an alleyway in Sector 0, the central section of the circular city of Midgar. The Shinra building loomed over them, imposing and threatening. Seeing it again so close brought all kinds of memories back to Tifa's mind. Her training… her acceptance into SOLDIER… Zack… Sephiroth. She had had a life here, of a kind. Not always pleasant and certainly never bright, but it had been her existence for a while.
"I hate this place," she said aloud. Cissnei didn't respond. "I don't suppose you have a plan for getting us inside."
The shorter woman stood, brushing off her black suit. "I do, but you're not going to like it."
"Why not?"
Cissnei held out a hand. "Can I see Zack's sword?"
Tifa twisted her head slightly, regarding the Turk for a moment with narrowed eyes. Hesitantly, she took the Buster Sword from her back and handed it to the copper-haired woman. Cissnei had to use two hands to hold it, her arms shaking with the effort of lifting the heavy weapon. She stared at the sword almost reverently. "Thank you," she said, turning away and taking a few steps to set the sword blade-down against a nearby wall. "This makes things easier." When she turned back, there was a cloth mask covering her nose and mouth.
"What are you –" Before Tifa could finish the question, Cissnei raised a gloved hand and snapped her fingers. All at once, a swarm of Shinra troopers emerged from the nearby alleys and out of doors, peeking over the edge of rooftops. The red-eyed woman turned to the Turk with a snarl. "Traitor!" Even as the words left her mouth, a smoking cannister dropped from above. Knockout gas.
It was over, but Tifa wasn't going to go quietly without some kind of satisfaction. She took a long step forward and punched Cissnei square in her masked jaw. With her injury and the gas already taking effect, it wasn't her strongest punch, but the blow knocked the other woman back into the nearest building. She hadn't even tried to block.
Her legs gave out and Tifa dropped to her knees weakly. "So…" she slurred. "All that stuff about Zack… it was just talk. What would… he say?" She fell to one side, consciousness fading again.
Before she went under, she heard Cissnei's voice as if from a great distance. "Tseng. I've captured the missing sample."
Aerith… I'm so sorry.
A/N:The more things change, the more they stay the same.