.2.

She was alone again.

She pulled her knees up tight against her chest, pulling her body in closer to the solid wall of thick glass at her back. Her eyes surveyed the area outside of her circular prison; she was surrounded on all sides by an enormous scientific laboratory. She could see them all, working at various things in their long white coats. The one she hated the most—the one she feared—was nowhere around, and she released a sigh of relief. She hated this place, hated these people, and closing her eyes she wished fervently she was somewhere else, anywhere else. Her eyes opened again and she resigned herself to her fate. So many times had she been here, in this exact spot, and so many times had she managed to escape. This time, she noticed bitterly, they were taking no chances. The security around her cell had doubled, and there would be no respite from their experiments. She attempted to stifle the cold fear growing within her; Hojo was different this time, and his attitude towards her was alarming. She felt small, and insignificant, and wished she wasn't alone. She wanted to be with her new friends, with Cloud—

Cloud. She needed him now, needed his stubborn strength, needed his confidence. She had only known him for a few days, and already, surprisingly, he had become a pinnacle of support. He filled her with something akin to happiness, and she could not deny she was attracted to him. And, she mused with a swift, secret smile, she was quite certain he felt something for her. It was nothing obvious, only a light that would enter his eyes when he watched her and the way he laughed more often when she was near. Her smile faded; he was gone in an attempt to stop the pillar from falling, and Tseng had caught her after she had taken the sweet little girl, Marlene, to her stepmother. The only consolation she had at this point was that the little girl and Elmyra were both safe.

She hunched in upon herself as a scientist walked past her cell, regarding her with undisguised fascination. She swallowed her disgust and her rage at being treated as nothing more than a lab rat; those emotions were at the moment nothing but futile. Her differences had always set her apart, but now, like this, she felt nothing more that a freakish outcast, a deviation from the norm that was destined for nothing but this treatment, this study. She noticed then main doors to the lab sliding open, and she watched uneasily as Hojo himself entered. Her lip curled in loathing; she despised him more than anyone or anything. He noticed her expression upon nearing her cell, and his thin pale lips moved into a cold and mirthless smirk. Wishing she could throw herself at him and claw his foul eyes from his face, she settled for pouring all her hatred into her glare. He chuckled at this and turned to his lab workers.

"The President wants a progress report," he told the others in his reedy, nasal voice. "So we're done here for the day. I'll see you all tomorrow."

The scientists began to disperse. Hojo moved to stand directly before her cell and leaned down to peer at her where she was curled at the far side.

"Well, my dear, how are you feeling?"

Several responses, none of them polite, rose to her mind. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her rage, she stubbornly pressed her lips together and said nothing.

Hojo smiled again. "You might as well lose that attitude of yours. You're going to be here for a very, very long time."

Still she said nothing. He reached out and rapped sharply on the glass; the resounding echo from within caused her to wince.

"There, you see?" He asked her, still smiling. "You're an experiment, my dear, and you should expect to be treated as such."

Furious, helpless tears rose in her eyes, and she fought to contain them; he enjoyed watching her break down, watching her give into the turmoil. He observed her silent struggle with emotion for several seconds longer before turning and leaving the lab. On his way out, he shut off the lights and left her sitting in semi-darkness. She tried to ignore the shadows that lined the walls, which wavered and elongated as her imagination fueled them, tried not to be disturbed by the eerie silence that filled the empty, cavernous room. Exhaustion won over her unease eventually; she pulled her knees to her chest, buried her face in her arms, and let sleep carry her far, far away.

.x.

She awoke to the sound of footsteps steadily approaching. As her eyes opened slowly she found herself curled protectively on her side. The lab was still dark and the only sound to be heard was that of the footfalls that seemed to be drawing even closer. She pulled herself upright cautiously, trying to peer through the shadows to see who approached. Surely it was Hojo, back to check in on her as he so often did during her time spent here. A scathing greeting rose to her lips as a shape formed itself out of the darkness—

No words fell from her lips, and instead she sucked in a startled breath. Looming above her, bloodied sword in hand, was the man who she and Cloud had encountered at the church.

Sephiroth.

His gaze—luminously green even in the lack of light—was unreadable as he slowed to a stop before her cell. He said nothing, but raised the sword after a moment and brought it down in one swift movement. She cried out as her prison shattered around her; pieces of glass fell against her skin, landed in her hair. After a moment, she uncurled herself hesitantly, expecting the blade to fall again and take her head with it. When nothing happened, she raised her eyes. He was still watching her but made no movement, and so she slowly came to her feet. This close to him she could see the streaks of blood that glistened on his coat and armor, and the tinge of red that tainted his remarkable snowy hair. He endured her scrutiny with an intimidating silence; it was another moment before he spoke. "You are coming with me."

"Where?" She asked quietly, trying and failing to keep her apprehension out of her voice. She remembered what he had said at the church, that he had come for her, and her fear mounted. She knew nothing of this man save for the fact that he fairly exuded danger; she was certain her fate with him would be no better than it would if she remained here at Hojo's whim.

Out of the frying pan …

"That is none of your concern." He replied. His voice was implacable, cold, but held within it a distinct threat that made her heart sink even further.

"Where are we going?" She asked again, voice rising with her anxiety.

His head tilted slightly to the side as he regarded her, as though attempting to ascertain how much he should reveal. "To Mother," he said finally, which told her absolutely nothing at all.

Aerith was shaking her head; going with this man, she was certain, would lead to her demise. She knew it with such certainty that she had begun to tremble. She began unconsciously backing away from him, the tiny shards of glass from her broken prison being crushed beneath her feet.

"No," she said, dredging up a wild courage, "I won't go with you."

His face altered slightly so that he seemed mildly amused. "I beg to differ," he said, and reaching out he caught her by the forearm. Startled at the suddenness of the movement, she wrenched back in an attempt to break free. His grip was like a vise, and his hold tightened until it was painful as she continued to struggle.

She saw then the small smile that flickered across his mouth, and suddenly she was furious—how like everyone else he was, to sit there and mock her lack of strength, her helplessness. His smile abruptly faded as her free hand connected solidly with his face, leaving behind a red imprint. He stared at her coldly for a moment before bringing the edge of his bloody blade to rest across the hollow of her throat, against the mad beating of her pulse. She went completely still at the feel of the cool metal against her skin.

"You will come with me," he said in a voice that fairly resonated with the promise of pain, "And if you do that again, I will kill you."

She didn't doubt him. She lowered her eyes in resigned submission and he withdrew the sword from her neck. With a sharp tug, he pulled her after him as he strode across the lab towards the elevator in the back. She had to run to keep up with his long strides, and his iron hold on her arm was beginning to hurt. She didn't dare say anything to further provoke him and as they stepped onto the lift she remained silent. Sephiroth punched in the floor number on the keypad, and they began to rise. He released her then, as she had nowhere to flee. The elevator slowed and then beeped, and the doors slid open.

Gunfire erupted, as guards standing before the lift doors opened fire. Moving with inhuman speed, Sephiroth was a blur as he leapt forwards, his blade rising and falling too swiftly to be tracked. Aerith had thrown herself backwards into the lift to avoid the gunfire; something ripped through her shoulder and she let out a strangled cry. The gunshots ceased; a moment later she found herself staring up at Sephiroth. More blood spatter decorated the thick fall his hair, and the crimson stood out like a bloodstain on snow. He frowned down at her as she clutched her shoulder and dropped into a crouch.

"You were hit?" It was more a statement than a question. He pulled her hand, which was trembling violently, away from the wound. He felt it with fingers to estimate the extent of the injury; at his touch she couldn't muffle the whimper that escaped her lips. His hand came away wet with her blood, which he wiped on his coat before standing.

"Come," he said. "I'll bind your wound once we leave this place."

She got to her feet, aided by his firm grip on the elbow of her uninjured arm. As he led her out of the elevator, she stared horrified at the carnage around her. The guards with the guns were now nothing more than bleeding, severed bodies, and she hastily averted her gaze. Each step taken sent a wave of stabbing pain through her shoulder and down her arm, and soon she was walking in a haze of agony. Sephiroth led her to a set of stairs and resolutely began climbing them. She followed, more because he was dragging her then out of her own effort. As they reached the top he released her and she stumbled backwards to lean against a wall. She stared around her at the cavernous chamber they were in; massive windows lined every wall and the lights of Midgar were spread out before her like a glittering landscape of stars. In the center of this chamber was what seemed to be an enormous desk. And behind that desk—despite the relentless waves of pain that washed through her, she instantly recognized the man. It was none other than President Shinra himself.

He was shouting in alarm as Sephiroth approached him with all the grace of a stalking cat. Aerith couldn't look away as Sephiroth leapt lithely into the air, his sword held firmly before him ...

With a harsh scream, President Shinra was impaled on the blade.

Aerith sank then to her knees, trying desperately to deny what she had just seen. Her breathing was frantic, erratic, and her vision was growing clouded from the pain, from the horror. She watched, terrified, as Sephiroth removed his sword from the corpulent body with practiced ease and began walking back towards her. She couldn't go anywhere with this monster, she couldn't—

With a strength and speed borne of terror, she rose to her feet and bolted back down the stairs. She heard an explosive oath behind her, and doubled her efforts to flee. Suddenly she staggered, and was falling so very fast down, down, down ...

She curled for the impact, hitting the floor hard. She struggled to breathe through lungs that refused to work, fought against the encroaching darkness. Eyes that were so very green entered her vision, and from far away she heard a voice trying to coach her through this—

Her body gave one more desperate attempt for air before everything went black.