Warning: This fic contains less-than-pristine language, violence, and non-explicit adult themes.
All But Blood
Chapter 3
by Krista Perry
Dr. Rodney Lambert, the head Head-Shrink of the Shinra Psychiatry & Mental Health Department, had one of the plushiest corner offices in the Shinra Building. As I stepped through the doorway and felt my boots sink down a good inch into the thick ivory-colored carpeting, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the spacious waiting room area, furnished with oak, leather, and gold accent. Typical of Lambert's taste for luxury. I remember hearing him once claim that the expensive decor was necessary to make his patients feel comfortable.
Huh. For comfort, I'd take a run-down church in the slums over this any day.
Across the room, guarding the door to the inner office, the receptionist sat behind her marble-topped desk. She was peering intently at her computer screen as her fingers flew over her keyboard, and either didn't notice my entrance, or was ignoring me, because she didn't look up as I approached. To the left, a huge window took up the entire wall, and a glance in that direction treated me to a view of the bleak, polluted sprawl of Midgar far below.
Now, I never claimed to understand psychology, which is supposed to be a very complex science. But if you asked me, the fact that the good Dr. Lambert apparently enjoyed his 52nd floor view of the perpetually dark, smog-filled sky, and the city's huge, black metal plates, which blocked any glimpse of the overpopulated slums beneath... well, I think it spoke volumes about his own state of mind.
I secretly harbored strong suspicions that Shinra's willingness to provide the doctor with his opulent accommodations were due, not to any excellence in his profession, but rather to his talent for always being able to tell President Shinra exactly what he wanted to hear during the old man's therapy sessions. Being the bright young man that I am, I kept these suspicions to myself. It was a well-known fact that one of the quickest ways to get demoted in Shinra was to badmouth Lambert, or any of his tight little clique of underlings.
The receptionist still didn't look up when I reached her desk, so I cleared my throat politely. Frowning, she glanced my way, and I felt a twinge of amusement as her expression quickly changed from irritation to flustered surprise as she recognized me.
"Hello, Miss Davis," I said with a sincere smile that had the effect of raising a blush to her cheeks. She was a cute girl, with short blond hair that nicely framed her pixie face, and long legs that were always well-displayed by the mini-skirts she habitually wore. She wasn't nearly as beautiful as Aeris - but then, no one could compare to Aeris, in my not-so-humble opinion. Still, she was attractive enough that she had grabbed the attention of a few of my buddies. I knew for a fact that Johnson, who bunked across the hall from me, had a full blown case of the hots for her. He had yet to muster the courage to ask her out, though, and whenever I teased him about it, he would indignantly respond that he was working on some great master plan for approaching her. I had my doubts, since he had been working on said master plan for over six months.
"Lieutenant General Fair," she said, immediately giving me her full, wide-eyed attention, as her suddenly-unoccupied hands fluttered nervously about her desk. "What a surprise."
I laughed ruefully at her use of my official title, which was far too long and presumptuous-sounding for my liking. "Please," I said. "Didn't I ask you to call me Zack?"
Her hovering right hand finally found a pen, and twirling it between her fingers seemed to ease her discomfort. "You did," she replied, returning my smile. "But I will only if you call me Sharon. None of this formal 'Miss Davis' stuff."
I grinned. "Fair enough. Sharon it is then."
She beamed, and leaned forward on her desk. "Well then, what brings you here, Zack?"
"Just looking for Dr. Lambert," I said, shrugging. "Is he around?"
She nodded her head towards the closed door of his inner office. "He's in an appointment," she said. "But he should be out in a minute or so." She flashed a more confident smile, showing off her straight, gleaming white teeth. "You're welcome to wait for him if you want."
I blinked. The glint in her eye was somewhat less than professional, and clued me in that she would be more than happy to have me sit down and wait for Dr. Lambert, even if his appointment took the rest of the day.
Well, it was important that I talk to Dr. Lambert, and since I knew that I was pretty good at keeping things on the Harmless Flirting level, I sat down on a cushy leather chair and settled myself in for a brief wait. Sharon and I chatted for a bit, mostly about the latest local news, like whether or not that new terrorist group, Avalanche, was actually going to follow through on some of its threats to sabotage Shinra. I ended up reassuring her that Shinra was perfectly safe, and that there was no way Avalanche would be able to get through SOLDIER even if they tried to follow through on their threats.
However, as our conversation continued, and the "minute or so" stretched into ten minutes, then twenty, with no sign of Dr. Lambert, I couldn't help but notice that Sharon's body language was changing from flirtatious to slightly seductive in spite of the relatively safe subject material we were covering. Before I knew it, she was leaning forward so far on her desk, her hands clasped coquettishly in front of her, that, with her strategically low-cut blouse, it became rather dangerous to look in that vicinity.
Don't get me wrong - before I met Aeris, I would have taken full opportunity to admire the view. Some guys who don't know any better would say that I was whipped. But hey, I'm not stupid, and I wasn't about to blow a good thing - hell, the best thing that had ever happened to me. And in my mind, that meant being faithful to Aeris, even if she wasn't around to appreciate my restraint.
So I was just thinking that it was time to bail before I got myself into trouble, and was about to politely excuse myself, when the door to the inner office opened and Lambert emerged.
I was surprised to see the usually immaculate man looking a bit disheveled. His tie was loose, and his white dress shirt was wrinkled; the corner untucked and sticking out from under his dark suit coat.
Lambert blinked in surprise when he saw me sitting in his waiting room. I raised an inquiring eyebrow, but before I could even offer a greeting, he was immediately followed out the door by a rather mussed-looking woman in a sleek red dress, who was busy tucking escaped strands of bleached blonde hair into the tight bun on the back of her head.
I think it was to my credit that I neither facially nor vocally expressed my sudden horror as I realized who the woman was.
Scarlet, head of the Shinra Weapons Department. A sadistic psycho bitch if there ever was one, and the only woman I had ever met who could give me a case of the screaming heebie-jeebies. Her high-pitched, cackling laugh alone gave me nightmares. There was no doubt in my mind that the woman needed serious therapy, but, looking back and forth between Lambert and Scarlet, it was evident that they had been using the doctor's couch for something other than counseling.
The sight of the two of them together effectively rendered me speechless. Lambert seemed just as flustered by my unexpected presence, and seemed to be struggling to come up with an appropriate explanation for this blatant breech of decorum, when Scarlet glanced up from primping and saw me.
I swallowed hard as a predatory smile lit her face, and suddenly wished that I could somehow vanish into the ultra-thick carpet.
"Why, Zack," she purred, giving me a sultry look. "How absolutely delightful to see you again. You left so quickly from the last presidential banquet that I didn't even get a chance to visit with you." That earned her a scowl from Lambert, who was trying to regain his dignity while hastily tucking in his shirt, but she pretended to be oblivious.
Jeeze, talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire. I found myself rising from my chair, not out of respect, but out of a sudden impulse to flee... again. It was no accident that she hadn't managed to corner me at that last banquet. "Visit," my ass. She had blatantly stared at me all through the dinner, as if she somehow planned on having me for dessert.
Still, in spite of all this, I somehow managed a smile that almost felt sincere. "Please, ma'am," I said, without a trace of sarcasm. "Call me Lieutenant General Fair."
Next to me, Sharon made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh. Scarlet glared at her, then frowned at me. I just gave her a smile that was all boyish innocence.
Lambert, whatever else he may have been, was smart enough to recognize a potentially explosive situation when he saw it, and he quickly stepped forward. "Good to see you again, Lieutenant General," he said, oozing diplomacy as he crossed the distance between us. I played along, all too willing to ignore Scarlet and get down to business, and shook his outstretched hand firmly. "So, what brings you to my office?"
"Just some questions about one of the SOLDIER applicants," I said. "But if you're busy..."
"No, no," he said hastily. "Ms. Scarlet was just leaving. Weren't you, dear?"
The ice in the glare that Scarlet gave Lambert was enough to freeze a man's soul. To his credit, the doctor merely paled. I was just glad that the doctor was between her and me.
Then she suddenly smiled, though the effect was hardly warming. "That's fine," she said, "I have another meeting in few minutes anyway. Same time next week, then, doctor?"
"Um... yes. Same time."
And with that, she strode quickly out the door without a backward glance. I couldn't help but be relieved that she was gone.
Lambert immediately turned to Sharon, and lifted a warning finger. "Not one word of this to anyone, right?"
Sharon rolled her eyes. "As usual."
He then turned back to me and gave me a stern look that didn't quite manage to cover his anxiousness. "I trust you will be... discreet about this." His tone was more of a statement than a question.
But I wasn't about to pass this one up. "So," I said, grinning. "Office scrumping sessions. Cool. Is this some type of radical new therapy?"
For a moment, as the tips of his ears turned pink, I thought he was going to get angry. But then - probably after realizing that I was not one of his underlings that he could just chew out any time he wanted - he decided to have a sense of humor about it, and chuckled ruefully. "It's not as bad as you think," he said. "She's really not all that scary once you get to know her."
My grin turned wry. "I hope you won't take offense if I maintain a bit of healthy skepticism on that count."
"Not at all, as long as you keep this discovery to yourself."
"I won't breathe a word." Besides, I added silently. Scarlet and Dr. Lambert? I don't think anyone would believe me.
"Good, good. Well then, down to business I assume." He glanced over at Sharon, who was doing her best to look like she wasn't eavesdropping. "Shall we go into my office?"
"Um..." I thought of what had just taken place in that office just minutes before. "No need. This won't take long."
"That's right," said Lambert. "You said you wanted to get some information on a SOLDIER applicant?"
I nodded. "I was hoping you could tell me something about Cadet Strife."
To my surprise, I saw a startled expression cross Sharon's face at the mention of his name. Hm, so she knew something. But I would have to save that for later. Right then, I had to focus on Dr. Lambert. "I saw that you were personally in charge of creating his psychological profile for his application, and I couldn't help but notice that his scores were some of the lowest I've ever seen."
The blank look on Lambert's face told me that the name wasn't ringing a bell. "Sorry," he said. "There are so many kids who come through here... who are you talking about?"
"Cadet Cloud Strife," I clarified. I was sure the strange first name would spark some recognition, but when it didn't, I sighed, and said, "You know, the kid with all the spiky blond hair."
That did it. Realization flared in Lambert's eyes, and his lip curled slightly in distaste. "Oh, him."
I raised an eyebrow, not really surprised by his reaction. "That bad, huh?"
Lambert shook his head. "You have no idea. That little punk has absolutely no respect for authority."
"Really." I was very curious now. "What did he do?"
"Well, he was sullen, uncooperative and hostile from the start. He outright refused to answer many of my questions, and when he did answer, he had a very belligerent attitude." Lambert was the very picture of righteous indignation. "Near the end of the interview, he even became aggressive, and threatened to do me bodily harm."
I blinked. "He threatened to attack you during the interview?"
Lambert nodded, his face flushing angrily at the memory. "Damn brat. For a moment there, I thought he was going to climb right over my desk to get at me."
"But he didn't."
"No." Lambert clenched his fists and lifted his chin. "I told him that his severe behavioral problems would guarantee that he would never make it into SOLDIER."
My eyes widened. "You told him that?"
"I most certainly did. And let me tell you, that took the wind out of his sails. He glared at me with a look that could kill, then stomped out of here without another word."
"I see." At least, I thought I did. If I was reading between the lines correctly, there was a hell of a lot that Lambert wasn't telling me. "Wow," I said, "that must have been quite some experience. I'm glad you weren't hurt."
"Well," Lambert said, "even if he had come at me, a short, skinny kid like that couldn't do much damage. I probably could have handled him without a problem."
"Oh, no doubt," I replied, trying hard not to roll my eyes. "I'm just glad it didn't come to that."
I was in such fine brown-nosing form, I felt like gagging. Shit like this made me really glad that I worked directly under Sephiroth, so that I rarely had to deal with these corporate Shinra assholes. It was my firm opinion that Sephiroth's leadership of the military was the Shinra Company's sole saving grace.
As for Lambert's boast, Strife had aced every single one of the physical aptitude exams for SOLDIER, while Lambert was developing a bit of an obvious paunch around the middle. I had no doubt that, if Cadet Strife had really wanted to, he could have easily smeared Lambert all over that plush little office of his.
I did my best to hide these rather traitorous thoughts under a thoughtful look. "Hey, that interview, you have it recorded on video disk, don't you?"
Lambert deflated slightly, and eyed me with sudden suspicion. "Of course. It's standard procedure to record SOLDIER applicant interviews."
"I don't suppose I could have a look at it?"
"Absolutely not," Lambert said, horrified. "Those files are highly classified!"
Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face. If they're so classified, I wanted to say, then how come you're so willing to blab about the interview in front of your secretary, with just my casual inquiry? I suspected that he was doing it partly for her benefit, which only confirmed my suspicion that she knew something about Cadet Strife's interview. Still, I held my tongue, even though both he and I knew that, as a lieutenant general, I could easily get clearance to all the files on SOLDIER applicants, regardless of his protests.
But I had no desire to stir up trouble with Lambert. Sure, I might be Sephiroth's 2nd in Command, but Lambert was tight with President Shinra himself, and had the old man's sympathetic ear at least twice a week by appointment. I knew that if it came to a choice between Lambert and me, Lambert would probably win by default.
"All right, that's fine," I said with a shrug. "I was just curious about it, that's all. I'm not questioning your professional judgment. It's just that Cadet Strife seemed like such a good SOLDIER candidate in every other aspect. I just wanted to make sure that the psychological scores in his file weren't typos or something."
Lambert snorted. "Rest assured, they are most definitely not typos. Cadet Strife will never be a SOLDIER."
"Well then, that answers my question." I smiled. "Thanks for your time, Dr. Lambert."
"No problem, Lieutenant General," Lambert replied, his smile just as contrived as my own.
And then I turned and walked out the door before the last shreds of my will crumbled, and I gave in to my strong impulse to punch his face in.
Sharon didn't look in the least bit surprised when I entered the office again a half an hour later.
"I thought you'd be back," she said, smiling. "Though I have the sinking suspicion that you didn't return just to continue our interrupted conversation."
"Sorry." I smiled sheepishly, but I was relieved to see that all trace of the flirtatious seduction from our previous conversation had left her expression. She was a smart girl, and seemed to have figured out that I wasn't interested, yet was self-assured enough to not let it bother her. "I'm just here on business again. I saw Lambert enter a meeting upstairs, and I needed to ask you some questions without him around."
She nodded. "I figured as much. About Cadet Strife, right?"
"That's right. From your reaction when I mentioned it to Lambert, I'm guessing you were here for the whole thing."
"I'm here for all of the SOLDIER interviews," she said, with a knowing smile. "It's one of the reasons I took this job. I certainly didn't take it because I like working for Dr. Lambert."
I laughed. "Ah, I see. It all makes sense now."
She laughed as well, but quickly grew serious. "But you're right," she said. "I remember Cadet Strife's interview very well. It was about a week ago."
I sat down again on one of the leather chairs. "So what can you tell me about him?"
"How much do you want to know?" she asked.
I shrugged. "Whatever you can tell me that will give me a clue as to why all my instincts are saying that Lambert didn't deal Strife a fair hand."
She seemed to relax at that. "Well then, have I got an earful for you."
I gave her a surprised look. "So, do you think Lambert had it in for Strife?"
She shook her head. "Maybe not at first. Strife was like all the other applicants when he came in. Really nervous about the interview while he waited for his turn. But one thing that I noticed that was kind of odd... The other guys who were waiting, they talked and joked among themselves to alleviate some of the tension, but Strife sat off by himself, and didn't really interact with any of the others."
"Anti-social?" I asked.
"More like... just really shy, I think." She gave me an inquisitive look. "I don't know, is there a difference?"
"You got me," I said with a shrug. "I'm not a psychiatrist."
"Well," she said, biting her lower lip thoughtfully. "All I know is that, when I tried to talk to him... he seemed surprised. Like he didn't expect me to talk to him, with all the other guys in the room."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why did you talk to him, instead of all the other guys in the room?"
That brought an unashamed grin to her face. "That's easy. He was the cutest guy there, for one thing. Those blue eyes, and all that unruly blond hair... and the way he blushed when he noticed that I was looking at him..."
"Okay," I said, chuckling. "So he was cute, and you talked to him. What next?"
She looked contemplative for a moment. "He was very... quiet. No, that's not the right word. Soft-spoken."
"Shy," I said.
"I guess." She cocked her head at me. "Is it a bad thing for SOLDIERS to be shy?"
"If it was a bad thing," I said wryly, "then half the SOLDIERS I know would have to resign. There's a world of difference between being shy around women, and being hesitant in a battle situation."
She looked at me pointedly. "You're not shy around women," she said.
"Ah-heh..." My hand slipped behind my head in abashment. "Well, I've got a girlfriend," I said, knowing that while I was avoiding her insinuation, I was also answering her unspoken question.
"Ah, I knew it," she said, sighing dramatically. "It figures. All the good men are taken."
I was sort of pleased at the back-handed compliment, but I still tried valiantly to look offended on behalf of my gender. "Not all," I said. "Besides, it seems to me that you liked Strife well enough."
"True," she said, "but that's a moot point now, isn't it?" Her eyes were suddenly sad. "I mean, Dr. Lambert's made sure that Strife isn't going to get into SOLDIER... and Strife seemed so devastated when he walked out of that office. The look on his face... like all the hope he'd ever had was crushed out of him." She sighed. "I figured he'd be packed and halfway back home by now. At least... I know I would be, if I were him."
Well, that was interesting. So it was true - Strife really knew, a whole week ago, that he would never make it in SOLDIER.
"Actually," I said, "he hasn't left. At least, not yet, anyway. He stuck around long enough to finish the rest of the SOLDIER testing. I saw him just this afternoon, in the final drill test."
Sharon's eyes widened. "But... why? Why go through the rest of the testing process if he knew he wasn't going to make it anyway?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out myself," I said. "So what exactly happened in his interview? Did you hear anything?"
She scowled. "I heard plenty. For the first fifteen minutes, everything was really quiet, but then Dr. Lambert started yelling at Strife, saying that he had a bad attitude, and that he needed to show more respect to his superiors. He kept going on and on like that for about ten minutes, until finally I heard Strife shout back."
I leaned forward. "What did he say?"
Sharon smiled ruefully. "Oh, pretty much everything I've ever wanted to say to the old windbag, but was just too afraid to. That he was a no-talent hypocrite, a stain on the occupation of psychiatry... well, maybe not those exact words - those are my words - but the meaning was essentially the same. Basically, Strife called Dr. Lambert an idiot, saying that he didn't know what he was talking about, and Dr. Lambert got so mad that he practically screamed at the top of his lungs that Strife would never be a SOLDIER as long as he had anything to say about it. Then everything was quiet for a while... and then Strife came out of the office looking like the world had just ended." Sharon blew out her breath between pursed lips. "And that was it. Well, except that Dr. Lambert canceled all of the interviews for the rest of the day, and sent everybody home."
I looked at her, weighing the implication of her words for a long moment.
"I see," I said at last, and sighed. "So in other words, Cadet Strife is a horribly disturbed individual, unworthy of the SOLDIER program, simply because he's the only one who has the guts to call Dr. Lambert an asshole to his face. Um... pardon my language."
She waved it off. "No, I think that sums it up perfectly. And that is the exact word he used, come to think of it."
"Right." I rubbed a hand over my face. "Okay. Anything else you can think of that might help?"
"Not off the top of my head." She looked at me earnestly. "So... do you think there's any way to overturn Dr. Lambert's score?"
"I don't know," I said, as I got to my feet. It was time to leave, before the asshole himself returned from his meeting. "But if I can do something, I will. I'm not going to let Shinra trample all over some guy just because he happens to have a mind of his own."
"Well, good luck." Sharon gave me a weary half smile.
"Thanks," I said. "I have the feeling I'll need it."
By the time I made it down to the cadet floor, the final scores for the SOLDIER program had been posted. Dozens of boys swarmed around the glowing bulletin board, each trying to catch a glimpse of their name emblazoned in neon light. There were cheers and back-slaps all around.
A few of the boys I had helped train caught sight of me and, before I knew it, I had been dragged into the midst of the mob. Some of the guys thumped on my back with their fists and chanted my name, while others took up the ready battle cry of "Par-TY! Par-TY!" as they tromped purposefully down the halls in search of the nearest keg to celebrate their successful entrance into SOLDIER.
Their enthusiasm was contagious. I couldn't help but remember a few years back when I was first accepted into the SOLDIER program. It was definitely one of the highlights of my life. Nothing quite like the heady rush of recognition, after a seeming lifetime of hard work to reach that moment of payoff. I knew, as I watched the boys around me, that I could very easily let myself get caught up into the festivities as I had so many times before, vicariously reliving that glorious moment through the new guys. But I couldn't. Not at the moment, anyway.
Cadet Strife was conspicuously absent from the crowd.
But then, so was his name from the bulletin board.
I'm not quite sure how I did it, but I somehow managed to extricate myself from the flood of boys clogging the main cadet foyer, and made my way to the barracks hall. I passed several open doors that revealed long, narrow rooms, with rows of ten beds lined up on either side of the room, with small steel-gray lockers in between each bed.
Ah, memories. Being a cadet meant that you had virtually no privacy whatsoever. One of the best things about being accepted into SOLDIER meant that the number of my roommates was narrowed down from nineteen to one. And when I became a SOLDIER 1st Class, I got a room all to myself.
Which is exactly what I was thinking about when I found Cadet Strife, in Barrack G6.
I actually heard him before I saw him. The door to G6 was closed, and as I reached for the doorknob, the sound of a broken, muffled curse reached my ears. This was immediately followed by a loud, long smashing noise that I knew could only mean that someone's locker was no longer in one piece.
I paused. My hand was still on the doorknob as more cursing followed within, only to trail off into heavy silence.
And for the first time, as I stood there on the other side of the door eavesdropping on Cadet Strife's frustration and despair... I wondered what the hell I was doing.
Here I was, traipsing in like some big brother to the rescue. But rescue from what? This kid didn't know me. What could I possibly say to him?
Sorry you didn't make the cut, kid. Thems the breaks, huh? But I'm here to give you a cheerful pep talk about "living life to the fullest" and "rolling with the punches" that will not only not make you feel any better, but will probably make you want to kick my ass just to get me to shut up.
With that thought, reality settled in on me, hard. I didn't know this kid. I didn't know anything about him, other than what I had deduced from his file scores, and watching him perform the final drill. Oh, and that Lambert hated him. Other than that, what did I know? Sure, he had told Lambert where to stick it, and even though that was something I had only daydreamed of doing, it didn't necessarily mean the kid was stable. In fact, if anything, it indicated a distinct lack of self-preservation instinct. I suddenly wished that I had overruled Lambert, and had watched the recorded interview in spite of his protests, so that I could know more about what I was dealing with.
And, come to think of it, why did I want to even bother dealing with this anyway? It wasn't like Strife was the first kid ever to be rejected from the SOLDIER program. There were lots of kids who had been turned away because they couldn't cut it physically, and I'm sure they felt just as devastated. Where did I get off, sticking my nose into this kid's business, when all he probably wanted at this moment was to haul out of here with a bit of dignity?
At that moment, the doorknob was jerked out of my grasp as the door swung inward, and I suddenly found myself looking down into Cadet Strife's angry face. "What the hell do you wa..?" He trailed off abruptly as he recognized me. Surprise and confusion warred with the anger already in his expression, and he immediately stepped back, coming instinctively to attention. "Sir," he said, "sorry, sir, I... I didn't know it was you."
Stunned, I could only blink. "How did you even know I was here?"
"I saw your shadow under the door, sir," he said, still standing at attention. "I thought you were..." He trailed off again, and I could see a stubborn pride flare in his eyes. One eye was still bruised and swollen from when I first saw him earlier this afternoon. "...someone else," he finished flatly.
"Who?" I asked. "The same person who gave you the black eye?"
That earned me a sullen, resentful glare. "Are you asking as my superior officer, sir? Or as the local 'big brother' who has come to offer his condolences for me not making it into SOLDIER?"
"Um..." I stared. He had me there. I wasn't really sure myself.
And he knew it. "Then, with all due respect, sir," he said, falling at ease and walking over to his bed, "it's none of your damn business."
"Okay," I said agreeably, though I was mentally kicking myself. He was right, it was none of my business. But for some reason - curiosity or my masochistic streak, I'm not sure which - I followed him into the room anyway. At which point I noticed that his bed was the very nearest to the door.
Understanding hit me like a load of bricks. That alone was a sure sign that he was at the very bottom of the cadet pecking order. Another blatant clue was that his bedding had been stripped, and was lying in a wad of tight knots at the foot of his bed.
I also saw the reason for his noisy destruction of his metal locker. The door had been welded shut, and he'd had to bust it open to get at his personal belongings. An open duffel bag lay on his bare bed, and as I watched, he began shoving his clothes from the ruined locker and into the bag.
"So you're leaving, then," I said.
He snorted. "Brilliant observation. I can see how you made it to SOLDIER 1st Class."
I ignored the barb. I would undoubtedly be bitter too, in his situation. "Where are you going?"
He stopped packing momentarily, and looked at me. "What's it to you?"
"Just curious," I said honestly. "Are you going back home?"
The pain that flashed through his gaze at the mention of home made me wish I hadn't asked. But the pain was quickly replaced by the flat, heatless anger. "I can't go back home," he said, in a tone that said he wouldn't say anything further on the subject. All right then.
"So where?" I pressed.
He slammed a wad of clothes - also tied in knots, I noticed with a wince - into the duffel bag. "Does it matter?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned on me, his eyes sparking with misery beneath his fury. "Look," he snapped, "why are you bugging me, anyway? Shouldn't you be off celebrating with the guys who made it? Or did you stop by just to rub it in?"
This was going nowhere. "Come on, gimme a break," I said, holding out my hands in a pleading gesture. "So you don't want a pity party, I understand that."
That took him aback. He eyed me warily. "Then why are you here?"
I shrugged and grinned. "Actually... I haven't figured that out yet."
Again, the anger crept back into his gaze. "If you're here because they set you up to play some sort of prank..."
"I'm not," I protested. He looked skeptical, and I sighed. "Look, okay, you want to know the truth?"
"Should I even care?"
Another good point. His anger was overwhelming his curiosity. And it was increasingly obvious that there was no way my natural charm was going to help me out on this one. I could tell, when he looked at me, that as a SOLDIER 1st Class I represented everything he'd worked for... and everything he would never have. Why should he care, especially if he was planning on leaving all this behind? As the living, breathing symbol of the cause of his misery, even if I knew what to say, there was probably nothing I could do to help.
"I just wanted to ask you a question," I said, feeling suddenly weary. "And you don't have to answer if you don't want to. Just let me ask the question, you can answer or not, and then I'll get out of your way, okay?"
A flicker of curiosity lit his eyes, but he didn't pause in packing. "Fine. Ask." And then leave. The unspoken sentiment was so plain in his body language, he didn't have to say it out loud.
I took a deep breath. "After your interview with Dr. Lambert..." And I trailed off as he tensed so suddenly at the mention of the psychiatrist's name, that for a brief moment I thought he was going to interrupt, or yell, or smash something. But he didn't say anything. He just stood there, looking down at his bed with his fists clenched at his sides, a wad of knotted clothing hanging from one hand.
"What about it?" he asked finally, and his voice was so quiet, I almost didn't hear him.
"Well..." My usual wit had completely failed me at that point. "You stayed. You finished the SOLDIER testing, even knowing..." I shrugged, feeling the bafflement plain on my face. "Why?"
He looked at me for a moment, expressionlessly. "You should know why," he said.
"If I did, I wouldn't be asking."
His face twisted in an expression of frustration and grief and anger. "Because," he said, "Dr. Lambert is a complete moron, and it shouldn't matter what he thinks of me! I thought it wouldn't matter! I thought that if I stayed, if I finished the testing and did my best, that the opinion of one idiot wouldn't keep me from getting into SOLDIER. But I guess that's not the way it works, huh?"
I shook my head, but not because I was disagreeing with him. The picture was slowly coming into focus, and it wasn't pretty. Still, there was a missing piece that I had to have. What had Strife done to get Lambert so angry in the first place?
"He said that you didn't respect his authority," I said.
"I respected his authority," Strife snapped. "Right up until the moment that he tried to get me to..." He stopped abruptly, and his face turned red with anger and humiliation.
I blinked. "To what?" I asked.
But Strife was silent, looking down at the floor, so tense that he was almost trembling.
A sudden horrible suspicion formed in my gut. "Until he tried to get you to do what?" I asked again.
He looked up and glared, but I saw a hint of telling fear glimmering in his eyes as he turned away and began packing again. "None of your damn business," he said. "I answered your question. Now leave me the hell alone."
I blinked as realization hit.
Holy shit. First Scarlet, and now this. A hell of a lot more about Lambert than I ever wanted to know.
The general rule at Shinra was that what you did on your own time was nobody's business, and we all tried to keep that rule. A sort of "live and let live" philosophy. But in my opinion, this crossed the boundary. This took place during an official SOLDIER interview, and was tantamount to blackmail.
I would have gone straight to President Shinra with this, if I thought it would do any good. But I suspected that he probably already knew, since he and Lambert were such good buddies. Persistent rumor had it that the Pres himself had several extracurricular activities along similar lines, unbeknownst to his wife and son. Some of my friends had said that they'd even seen the Pres frequenting the rather kinky slum establishment of the Honey Bee Inn, in the Sector 5 Wall Market...
I decided to stop thinking about that, before my imagination took me places that I did not want to go. Still...
"Look," I said. "This is serious. If Lambert did anything-"
"He didn't." Strife turned on me furiously. "Do you really think I'd let him?"
In spite of the sick feeling in my stomach, I couldn't help but turn up one corner of my mouth in a wry half smile. "No, I think you'd kick his ass first."
My answer surprised him, to say the least. He stared at me for a moment. "Damn straight," he said at last. And then he went back to packing.
I didn't know what to say then. What had been done to Strife was so unbelievably cruel and unfair, I had a hard time grasping it.
And yet, I couldn't help but admire his strength. The fact that he'd hung on till the end, in spite of Lambert. In spite of somehow ending up at the bottom of the ruthless cadet pecking order.
Okay, so maybe my help wasn't wanted, and with good reason. But I couldn't just let it go. There had to be something I could do to fix this miscarriage of justice. I had to at least give him the option to do something about it, rather than just leave him like this.
"Hey," I said. "If you don't have any place to go, why don't you stay here?"
He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. "What?"
"Not here," I said, gesturing at the cadet barracks. "I mean..." I paused. The plan was forming in my mind even as I spoke. "Look. You want to be a SOLDIER, right?"
He didn't answer, but then he didn't have to. The desire was there, still lurking in his eyes, in spite of everything he'd been through. I saw it. Recognized it.
So I continued. "Well, I was just thinking," I said. "What Lambert did was illegal on so many levels, it's not even funny. Still, it won't be easy going up against him, because he's got lots of friends in high places." I shrugged. "But then, so do I. So even though it might take wading through a ton of red tape, and a bit of slick maneuvering, it still might be possible."
Cadet Strife stared at me, thunderstruck. I could see that his mind was whirling, trying to comprehend what I had just said. "Wh... what?" he whispered.
"The thing is," I continued, "it won't happen instantly. If there's one thing I've learned from dealing with these bureaucratic Shinra shitheads, it's that they know how to turn a simple five minute conversation into a six month legal process when something comes up that doesn't immediately interest them, or put money in their pockets." I gave him a pointed look. "So I guess the bottom line is, if you still want a shot at becoming a SOLDIER, that means you'd have to stick around for a bit. At least as a private in the enlisted army for a while, while I try and get Lambert's score overturned."
Strife's eyes were wide, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of hope in his expression. "Why... why would you do that for me?"
I chuckled. "Well, for one thing, nobody, and I mean nobody, has ever put Lambert in his place before."
But maybe that was the wrong thing to say, I realized, as suspicion once again crept into his countenance. Fear, experience, or both, made him refuse to believe in the hope I was offering to him, and he started to slowly shake his head.
"No... this is some sort of sick joke, isn't it," he said. "The guys put you up to this, didn't they." And then, he looked horror-struck with a terrible realization, and his fists clenched. "Or Lambert. Is it Lambert? Did he put you up to this to get back at me?"
"Are you crazy?! Me, work for Lambert, that pasty-faced son-of-a-bitch?" My vehement denial took him by surprise, and he stepped back, his leg bumping into his mutilated locker. At that, I also felt a sharp stab of aggravation and anger towards the pinheads who thought that tormenting the quiet guy was the preferred means of entertainment in cadet school. "Look, Strife," I said seriously, trying to reign in some of my frustration. "I wouldn't do a favor for Lambert if my life depended on it, and as for the 'guys,' I don't even know who you're talking about. As a matter of fact, if I ever find out who roped your clothes and welded your locker shut, I'm going to give them latrine duty for six weeks. This stupid pecking order may be the way Shinra runs things in management, but that's not the way SOLDIERS do things, and it sure as hell isn't the way Sephiroth runs his army."
Strife blinked at me, stunned. And for the first time I could see that he knew I meant business. I leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "You've got more guts and determination than half of my comrades," I said. "If anyone deserves to be in SOLDIER, it's you, kid."
More stunned silence. The look on his face made me wonder if anyone had ever done or said anything nice to him in his life. He didn't seem to know how to cope with it.
"You're serious," he finally said. "Are... are you serious?"
I grinned. "Yeah. So whaddya say? I can't guarantee that it's a sure thing, but I will promise that I'll do my damndest to get Lambert's score overturned. Are you willing to give it a shot?"
He looked down at the duffel bag lying on the stripped bed. After a long moment, he said, "As a private... where would I have to stay?"
I could hear the questions he was too proud to voice. If I stay, do I have to put up with this again? As a private, would I have to endure the same persecution that I did here, on the off chance that you can overturn Lambert's score?
But I could also see that it didn't matter how I answered. I could see that, even if I said that there was a good chance he would fight off bullies every day for the next six months, he was willing to endure it. He would suffer anything to prove himself. Anything to reach the coveted position of a SOLDIER under Sephiroth's command, even if the hope of fulfilling that dream was slim; the chance one in a million.
Seeing that in his face is what finally clinched it for me, I think. I officially liked the kid.
"Privates sleep in the barracks a couple of floors up. It's not much different from this," I admitted.
But Strife just shook his head. "That's okay." He looked up at me. "Sir... it's not that I don't appreciate all this, but... do you mind if I take some time to think about it?"
I could see that he still didn't trust me. Not that I blamed him, after everything that he'd gone through. "I don't mind at all," I said. "I realize it's a lot to consider. Take all the time you want. But if you decide to go with my plan, just let me know. I can help you get enlisted in the army as a private, and settled in properly. Oh, and if you need to find me, talk to the receptionist on the 17th floor, she's the one who keeps track of where I am."
"Thanks..."
And with that, there was nothing really more to say. I was about to leave Cadet Strife alone with his thoughts, when I paused and turned back to him. "Okay, you know when I said that I only had one question? I lied. I've got one more question for you."
He eyed me with suspicion, but without surprise, as if waiting for me to give him the expected last-minute catch to my offer. "What?"
I couldn't help the grin that crept into my expression. "Is it true that you called Dr. Lambert an asshole to his face?"
And for the first time, Cloud Strife's mouth quirked with the ghost of a smile.
"Yes, sir," he said.
I laughed loudly, and clapped him on the back. "Man, Strife, you are my hero," I said
As I turned to walk out the door and caught the distinctly perplexed look on Strife's face, I couldn't help but grin.
Hojo's lab is dark when I open my eyes, the only light in the room coming from the eerie green glow of the Mako that fills my cylindrical prison. The sight almost startles me. The cobblestone walls, the shelves upon shelves of books, the various specimen containers lining the walls, the experimentation table in the center of the room...
For a moment, I forgot where I was. Where I've been. I know I've been lost in memory. These days, the line between my memories and my present seems to be increasingly blurry. It's getting hard to tell when I'm awake and when I'm not.
It was a memory of Cloud. The first time I ever met him, when he was just a 15 year old kid, with dreams of becoming a SOLDIER.
I never should have offered to help him. Where did it get him? Not into SOLDIER, but instead, locked away for five years as a lab specimen. The prisoner of Hojo's crazy experiments and hidden agenda.
Only it's not so hidden now. I figured some of it out, didn't I.
That's right. I remember... right before Hojo drugged me for the experiment... the experiment that I can't remember. I told him that I knew he had only been using Jenova in his experiments on Cloud, but not on me. And he didn't like that at all. Heh.
Like I usually do when I... wake up... or stop remembering, I'm never sure which... I look over to see how Cloud is doing.
To my relief, he seems to be sleeping. At least, his eyes are closed now, instead of open and empty, glowing brilliant, unearthly Mako blue.
But... I'm surprised how much he has healed from Hojo's torture session, which was only... a day ago? Two days ago? It's useless, trying to measure time in here. The only way to keep track of such things is to pay attention to what Hojo and the others say about it to each other.
Still, Cloud's bruises are gone. All signs of broken bones, lacerations, gone.
Hell, even the blood that matted his spiky blond hair has disappeared. Which makes me wonder if the Jenova in him managed to suck it back into his body somehow...
"Cloud," I say. My muffled voice still reverberates in the silent basement lab. I need to make sure he's okay. And I've been alone with my own thoughts too long. I desperately need someone to talk to. "Cloud... wake up."
No response.
"Come on, Cloud. Wake up. It's me, Zack."
Still nothing. Cloud is normally a light sleeper. Maybe he's drugged. But Hojo has never left us drugged in between experiments...
"Wake up, Cloud."
Nothing.
"Dammit, wake up," I say, and hear the strains of panic in my own voice. "Come on, Cloud, this isn't funny. Open your eyes!" I reach out and pound my fist on the inner wall of my cylinder. "Wake up, dammit!"
And his eyes slowly open. My surge of relief is short-lived, however, as I see the same, vacant, glowing stare as before.
"Cloud..."
"Zack..." he whispers hoarsely.
He can hear me. I lean forward anxiously, and press both hands against my container. "Cloud, are you okay?" A stupid question, I know. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"
"I... can't move."
I blink in confusion. He looks completely healed to me... "Are you injured? Do you hurt somewhere?"
"No..."
A sudden terrible thought strikes me. "Can you feel your legs or feet?" If Hojo somehow paralyzed him in this last experiment...
"I can... feel them," Cloud says. His voice is so soft, so muffled, I can barely hear him. It's as if forming each word is a great effort. "I just... can't move them."
It's only then that I realize that Cloud hasn't even moved his head to look at me. He's still staring straight ahead with that disturbing blank expression.
"Can... can you look at me, Cloud? Can you move your head?"
"No..." Anguish and fear fill that one-word whisper.
Shit. "Don't give up, Cloud." I'm trying to sound so encouraging, but I can't mask the worry in my own voice. "Try. Please, try."
"I'm... trying..." he says. "But the voices..."
"Ignore the voices, Cloud." It's her. Jenova. She's doing this to him. "Don't listen! Try to focus on moving. Just turn your head towards me, and try to look at me, okay?"
Cloud's lips are the only part of him that's moving. And I can't help but wonder if it's because she's letting him speak. Speak, but nothing else. His weak voice threads its way to me, and the words he struggles to form chill me to the bone.
"I... feel like I'm being sucked into a void," he whispers. "Like I'm... being pushed back into a corner... seeing out my own eyes... hearing... feeling..." Tears start to leak out of the corners of his glowing, unblinking eyes. "But everything seems so far away... and I can't move... Zack, I can't move..."
I press my forehead against the glass, despair eating its way through my heart. "Try and fight it, Cloud. Promise me you won't give up. No matter what, okay?"
"... Okay..."
"You promise?"
"... I... promise..."
"Good." I close my eyes. "And in the meantime, I'll figure out a way to get us out of here. And then I'll find someone who can help you. I promise. I'll find a way to undo what Hojo's done to you."
It won't be easy going up against him, because he's got lots of friends in high places. So even though it might take wading through a ton of red tape, and a bit of slick maneuvering, it still might be possible...
That's right. Just a bit of slick maneuvering is all.
I hear 15-year-old Cloud's voice in the back of my mind.
Why... why would you do that for me?
The glass is cool against my forehead. "Because we're friends."
You're serious. The boy blinks at me uncertainly. Are... are you serious?
"Of course I'm serious. Friends forever."
"... forever..." Cloud whispers. Tears slowly track their way from his staring eyes, down his pale skin, glittering green in the Mako mist. "... friends..."
That's right, Cloud. And I will keep my promise. I will get you out of here, and help you, no matter what. I will keep my promise.
Even if it kills me.