Note: If the formatting in this chapter is too confusing to follow, try the version on my page - link in profile. I had a little more control over that one. ;) Thanks. -S.

3-8. The Crisis

A single light glowed in a room on the second floor of the Nibelheim inn, lighting the walls with a yellow light that did not quite reach the room's darkened corners. On the table, open and carefully arranged side by side, lay two books: a stolen notebook in a scrawled hand, and Effects and Treatment of Mako Toxicity. A woman who had once been a young student bent over them, reading in parallel as the lamp cast shadows over her pale skin.

Stage 1. No visible effects. Hemotoxicity assays indicate trace amounts (0.00001% to 0.0009%) of Mako in the blood at all times, even after direct exposure has ceased. The majority of accidental Mako exposure, and exposure to Mako-containing vapor, falls within these bounds. The long-term and hereditary effects of Stage 1 Mako exposure have not yet been determined.

Initially all of the specimens were exposed to only trace amounts of Mako, enough to facilitate J-cell absorption, but as the study continues, I am now beginning to explore the useful side of Mako exposure itself…

Stage 2. Higher levels of hemotoxicity than Stage 1 (0.001% to 0.009%). Stage 2 toxicity is characterized by localized bioluminescence, known colloquially as "Mako eyes". The iris develops a form of bioluminescence, or natural light. Unlike the bioluminescence of certain insects and deep-sea fish, which are commonly yellow-green or orange, Mako-induced bioluminescence appears in virtually every shade. Normally, the light closely matches the victim's natural eye pigmentation, but shifts in color are also observed – most often to the familiar "Mako green".

The higher doses of Mako are taking well. I haven't taken blood samples, but anyone trained in finding the signs could see the glow in her eyes. The strange thing is that I don't think she even notices it… nor does the Turk.

It is encouraging. Beyond that, one could even call it… beautiful.

The exact mechanism of this phenomenon is unknown, because the enzymes involved seem to break down quickly after death and make autopsy studies difficult. In addition to these effects, an increase in muscular strength and stamina is reported in some cases.

Stage 3. Higher levels of hemotoxicity than Stage 3 (0.01 and higher) as well as bioluminescence. This stage is rarely reported in cases of accidental exposure to Mako, but it is reported in extreme cases of inentional and excessive exposure to Mako or crystallized Mako (Materia) internally. An increase in muscular strength is sometimes reported, but more often, muscle weakness is reported, in addition to spells of dizziness and fainting. The victim may suffer periods of confusion and disorientation, and occasionally visual and aural hallucinations.

I believe that she has begun to hallucinate. She won't tell me much about it, which is not helpful in the least; both Mako exposure and J-cell exposure can induce hallucinations, and I don't know which has induced her symptoms. I have tried to interrogate my first specimen, with no success. He never did cooperate well, and now I believe that he is too far gone.

Stage 4. This stage has only very rarely been recorded in modern history; its symptoms are drawn from a few rare cases and from historical accounts from the Ancient civilization. No hemotoxicity levels are available, since no Stage 4 victims have been tested for blood-Mako levels. Bioluminescence is present, in addition to very frequent hallucinations. This stage is marked by profound muscle weakness and lack of coordination, catatonia, and sometimes coma.

My only true concern at this point is the safety of my young creation… Changing the protocol has been a masterful move after all; if I had continued the direct-injection protocol carried out with the mice instead of the new intravenous protocol, the health of the fetus might be in much greater danger.

Stage 4 toxicity is reported only in cases of prolonged immersion in pure Mako; it has been reported historically in Ancients who had fallen or jumped into active Mako wells, and in modern times after catastrophic accidents with Mako reactors or with victims who had fallen into exposed Mako pools, such as the Mako pool at Mount Nibel. There is no effective treatment for extreme Mako poisoning, and the survival rate for these victims is low.

Of course, this protocol does pose a much greater risk to the carrier—but that is a lesser concern. As long as she lives long enough to deliver, the experiment is a success.

Lucrecia closed the books one after another. When she stood, her head swam with a dizziness not entirely brought on by the treatments. She clasped the books against her chest protectively and stared toward the tabletop, her eyes unfocused. She refused to look up into the mirror, as if it could unmake what she was sure to see…

Things had gone wrong. More precisely, things had been made wrong.

She looked up; she had to. The pale face in the mirror looked back at her, and its coldly terrified eyes glowed with a soft yellow-amber light…

…one could even call it beautiful…

Under the plan she'd agreed upon, this would not have happened. Only her child would be exposed to so much Mako and Jenova cells. But Hojo had changed his mind and filtered the deadly serum through her blood, to lessen the risk to his precious experiment. In short, the protocol had been falsified. More lies. One of a thousand, it seemed. The thought had little power to shock her anymore.

Outside the shuttered window, the mountains were frozen in the midst of a dead Nibelheim winter. And for the first time, it seemed clear that she would not see the spring.



The voices came with the sickness, faintly at first, but as more and more of our people fell ill, the voices grew louder… some claimed that they heard the voices of the dead in Lifestream, others claimed that they could hear the thoughts of living things. The intrusion of these thoughts drove some of the sick ones mad.

Fifty-six so far have died in the capital this month. No one knows how many have been lost throughout the world. Though I know they have returned to the Planet, I cannot help but feel that we have been wronged. Though not evil in themselves, their deaths were undignified and unnecessary. They still had things to accomplish in this life…

I wait now in solitude, writing and watching. It is the scholar's duty in our world to watch and to remember what has been, so that others may be told.

May Lifestream let me stay away a little longer, for the story is not over yet.

"Lucrecia."

She startled, looking up from the Cetra history for the first time in hours. Vincent stood in the doorway in civilian clothes. Lucrecia stared at him blankly, struggling to pull her mind back to the present.

"Why aren't you asleep? I saw a light on, and…" Vincent trailed off helplessly; he'd seen the bedside lamp, the books, the covers wrapped protectively around her, the fading glassy look in her eyes. The question was pointless. He closed the door and sat beside her on the bed. "Can I stay?"

Lucrecia nodded, cleared her throat. He gently loosened the book from her grasp and closed it. She did not stop him; she'd read it so many times, anyway…

The Turk lay back against the pillows, looking up at her calmly. "You haven't been out in a long time. I've worried about you."

She shrugged, still not completely free of the dazed detachment. "It's all right… I have to think."

"About what… well, what exactly?"

Lucrecia did not answer at first. Telling him the whole truth would stun him into his usual defenses: he'd deny it, vow to protect her, and nothing would be solved at all. What could be said now?

Vincent, do you think you could take care of my child? If you had to, not that you will have to…

Vincent, something's gone wrong.

If there were words she could give him, they had not yet come to her. Before she could console him, she first had to swim through this shock, to grasp the poisoned truth herself.

"Do you think it's been worth it?" she said at last.

Vincent frowned for a moment, puzzled. "Has what been worth it?"

"All of this. Everything since you came to Nibelheim."

"Yes," he answered at once, then thought for a minute, his arms crossed behind his head. He looked up into her eyes again as she sat beside him, one moment among many like it.

"Yes, it has," Vincent repeated. "I've tried before, but I don't know if I could explain to you what you've done for me. I'd go through all of this pain and more, for everything you've done."

Lucrecia's eyes darted away from his sincere face. Her first impulse was guilt, as usual, but as the first sour pang wore off, a new thought replaced it.

If this really was as serious as she feared… what was the use of guilt?

She looked down to the waiting gaze of the young Turk, the philosophical killer who loved her beyond all logic. "I love you, Vincent. Never forget that."

"Of course."

It went without saying, finally. She knew he would never forget, and her habitual doubt seemed pointless now as well. No matter what happened to Lucrecia, some image of her, some construct, some idea built in her name, would be burned into Vincent's soul for as long as he lived. It was mostly his doing, but that was also unimportant. Vincent Valentine would carry her forever, until, someday—such a pointless word—they would be reunited beyond the world.

She remembered seeing him across the room in that humble Nibelheim tavern, her cheeks blushing like a schoolgirl's. They'd faced his haunted conscience and her wavering morality, climbed mountains, risked death, studied history, learned to dance. Two years ago, he had still been an unusually refined Turk with little interest in life, and she had been a promising graduate student with ambitions that had not yet consumed her.

So much time had passed, but it didn't seem like enough time now…

Vincent sat up on one elbow, slipped one hand up to the back of her neck, and gently bent her down. When his lips touched hers, Lucrecia closed her eyes to keep him from seeing the first traces of tears.

Whatever happened, Vincent would always love her. Nothing could break that, nor could it undo everything about them that their love had altered. Even if she died, their child would remain, and so would this new Vincent, who knew now that his life was not hopeless. And even then, nothing could take away what they had already done and said, or the bond that they had made despite all betrayals and hardship.

Vincent loved her unquestioningly; Lucrecia loved him, hoping despite her doubts that all he believed was true. That would always remain. Finally, Lucrecia felt a calmness in her heart—something approaching peace.

Maybe it had been enough time, after all.



Lucrecia Meresia Gainsborough, just past the age of twenty-four, eight months pregnant and carrying two books tightly against her body, walked down the underground corridor toward the JENOVA Project laboratory.

The voices came with the sickness, faintly at first…

I believe that she has begun to hallucinate.

—Are you there?—

I'm here… please don't say anything. It's bad enough as it is.

The door swung open. The main laboratory was quiet; it was used infrequently these days. Lucrecia replaced the books on their proper shelves, fighting back the growing dizziness. The strange voice in her mind was quiet—at least her insanity listened to reason. She smirked in spite of herself at that thought.

Some claimed that they heard the voices of the dead in Lifestream…

Recalling the briefing from their first day in Nibelheim, she found the white metal box under the lab bench in Hojo's work space—his official space, at least…

Others claimed that they could hear the thoughts of living things.

—What's 'bad enough as it is?'—

This voice… and I'm dizzy. And tired…

—Are you sick? Or is it…—

That's what I'm here to find out.

The corners of the box clinked on the countertop. Lucrecia flipped open the latches and lifted out a small plastic-wrapped kit: syringes, test tubes, reagents.

There is no effective treatment for extreme Mako poisoning.

It was easy to draw blood now; her veins were murkily visible under the almost translucent skin of her arms. One milliliter in each of two test tubes, five drops of the test fluid. Shake, close, wait five minutes. She set a lab timer to mark the time, threw the needle away in a bin bound for the incinerator, sat with her head resting on her arms, and waited. The laboratory was quiet as the reagents bound to the proteins in her blood, tracing the patterns of poisoning.

—So he got you, too?—

Hojo?

—Right… I thought I was the only one.—

The only what?

—Test subject.—

One minute.

No… I was… not exactly a test. I was part of the experiment.

A bitter laugh scratched through her mind. —Lucky you; I'm just a guinea pig.—

Lucrecia blinked. Literally? Never mind that all of this was insane, that she was conversing with a voice in her head as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Nothing followed the same logic that it once did.

—Funny. No, not literally. He uses mice, usually, I think. Figurative guinea pig. His first human trial.—

Lucrecia sat up, reeling. Human trials? Since when does he do human trials?

Two minutes.

I have tried to interrogate my first specimen, with no success.

Now I believe that he is too far gone…

—Since me, I guess.—

When were you … treated?

—When was I treated? Now… for a while now.—

Lucrecia stood, faltered, gripped the edge of the counter. "You're alive?" she asked out loud.

Three minutes.

—Of course, I'm talking to you, aren't I?— The laugh came again, much quieter, and Lucrecia closed her eyes, struggling to grasp what was happening.

Some claimed that they could hear the thoughts of living things.

Where are you?

—I'm not sure. In his laboratory, I think. Last place I saw was the Shinra lab in Nibelheim.—

Lucrecia's stomach knotted in pure revulsion and fear. So you're human, Hojo took you and …experimented on you, and now you're in the Shinra lab? In the Mansion, the main lab?

—Right.—

Four minutes.

That's where I am.

—What?—

I'm here… Where… Lucrecia turned slowly, shaking with dread, looking for any spot big enough to hide a human.

Between the Chemistry bench and the wall she saw them, standing against the wall, supposedly unused. Hojo's two largest specimen tanks, shielded and sealed, which… if one's imagination were warped enough… were large enough to hold a human being.

Lucrecia took a step toward them, and a tiny alarm started to beep. She startled and spun around. The lab timer she'd set was going off: five minutes. She picked up the test tubes and compared them to a chart in the test kit:

High level Jenova virus exposure. Seek medical attention immediately.
Mako blood content ~0.01%. Seek medical attention immediately.

Of course…

—What is it?—

Jenova.

The original procedure—what'd she'd been promised at first—had called for no more than fifty percent Mako, and a trace amount of Jenova cells. For this amount to remain in her blood weeks later, it had to have been undiluted Mako by the end… and probably ten times the promised dosage of Jenova cells.

Lucrecia looked up to the steel shielding of the specimen tanks. Her own reflection was a smeared blur of white and washed-out pastels with dully glowing eyes.

I know where you are now. She stepped toward the tanks.

—Then help me… it's too late for us, we're going to die from the virus anyway, but I have to get out of here… please…—

Seven steps to the tanks. The voice pleaded desperately, almost to itself.

—It's been so long since I saw anyone… even Hojo doesn't come anymore… just sets up these damn needles to run sugar into my blood, probably more Mako too… I can't breathe… please help me…—

Lucrecia's mind flooded with the panicked thoughts of the trapped test subject; her eyes glazed over, and she shook it off to read the instrument panel on the front of the tank.

—I've been so alone… I'm not like this, but gods, there's a limit to what a man can take… I have to get out of here…—

Simple enough: Open. She pushed a button, and the shielding slid away from the front of the tank…

Lucrecia had dreamed of drowning, but they were another's dreams.

The tank was painfully bright with the green glow of liquid Mako. Wires and tubes snaked through the glowing fluid, enveloping a spasm-racked human form, piercing it in countless places. An oxygen mask covered the bottom half of the man's face, and his head was thrown back; she could not see his eyes. Her terrified gaze slid down his rigid arms to his hands, which were spread and locked as if clawing…

…no… they were claws…

The subject's head snapped up, his blond hair flowing behind him in the green glare. Pure terror flooded his glowing eyes, and his malformed hands clawed at the oxygen mask, ripping it off in a torrent of bubbles.

For a fraction of a second, Lucrecia thought that this was no more than another hallucination. But the man in the tank put his hand against the glass, echoing her utter shock in his wire-punctured face, and her doubt fled along with the last vestiges of control.

Shelan!

—Lucrecia!—

Lucrecia could not tell if the scream that ripped through her were physical or mental or both. She dropped into unconsciousness with the sudden finality of a slamming door, crumpling to the floor before the tank as Shelan Strife pounded uselessly on the glass walls of his prison.