(A/N: Well, this came up a bit later than I would have hoped, but it's also a bit longer, so I hope that works out. Once this chapter is done, I can get on with the real conflict of the story.

In other news, seems to dislike me greatly. My pen name won't show up on the Search engine, and neither will this fiction. It also seems to me that my updates don't make the "Just In" list. To top it off, the Tech Support page doesn't load, and displays some generic "too many connections" line when I try to ask them about it. Overall, it's pretty irritating.

I would like to thank ShadowXenVII, Dragonsdaughter1, and Starfall4790 by taking some time to review this. Good, bad, or indifferent, it really does serve to motivate me.

I've also been sending out Review replies whenever possible, but as the system hasn't been very good to me before, I'd just to ask if you've received them or not. If not, I suppose I'll put in a small section here regarding those.

Technical errors. Grr.)

Threads of Spirit:
Beginnings and Ends

Every fire, however great, dies eventually, and what lies in the ashes is truth once hidden behind the dancing flames. The sun had risen, though those under the Plate had no idea of that, and the brilliantly blue sky, devoid of any but the lightest, whitest clouds, declared that it would be a wonderful day. For better or for worse, those under the Plate had no idea of that, either. People began awakening, either from habit or from the reminders of an alarm repaired into activity, most of them with memories of a useless day behind of them and with the dull prospect of another useless day ahead. Some got out of bed automatically, while others lay motionless and rose eventually only through strength of will. There were people like that who didn't rise at all, too, and their ranks were swelling with each passing day. Then there were those who had no idea how they had spent the evening, with memories, as they were, drowned out either in alcohol or some other variety of mind-altering substance. For the most part, they slept on as the sun climbed into the sky, snoring until they woke up to face whatever kind of life they had been trying to escape the night before.

Elmyra Gainsborough turned over on her hard, unpadded mattress to blearily slam her hand down on the old alarm clock that her husband had found and fixed so many years ago. The thought of Mat, young and handsome as he marched off to fight the war he had never returned from, still threatened to bring a tear to her eyes, but it had been a long time. Something in the back of her head seemed to tickle at her consciousness. Her head hurt, too; she wondered idly if she had hit it on something yesterday night. Staggering over to the small washroom, she tried to remember what it was that had happened a dozen hours ago, but she couldn't think of anything that would have caused such pain. In fact, she couldn't seem to remember yesterday at all. She scowled at the mirror, cracked and grimy; she had always had a good memory. Washing out her mouth – Light, but it tasted terrible; she made a reminder to stop drinking her tea at night. Had she taken it yesterday? No, that wasn't important.

Walking quietly along the sparse carpeting of their second story, she opened Aeris' door a crack, surprised that the bed was empty and the sheets were folded. For the one, Aeris usually didn't wake up yet, even if she did, she would have taken the time to wake her mother up, too. For the second, Aeris never did her chores as a child, and the habit of not making up her bed had followed her to the current day. Shaking her head, she concluded that her daughter had simply gone out earlier, today, and maybe she had learned some responsibility, too. Again, that tickling sensation came at the back of her head, but she ignored it, attributing it to the headache that still plagued her; she resolved to make a trip to the Pharmacy in Wall Market for some aspirin after breakfast. There would be few of the locals out, at this early hour. She couldn't stand them.

Walking down the stairs, she noticed that quite a few things were out of place in her usually immaculate kitchen. Muddy boot tracks streaked the carpeting, and an opened letter lay on the table, while a bottle stood half-empty on the kitchen counter. She scowled, moving towards the table. Aeris might have disliked her chores, but open disorganization was never a part of her. Picking up the letter – she noted distantly that it had several places where it looked like the paper had been wet but had subsequently dried. The tickling thoughts in her mind reached an all-time high, but Elmyra put them down forcefully. Then she glanced at the actual text of the letter, and her heart missed a beat. She remembered it all, sinking into the chair of her kitchen, her knees suddenly unsteady.

The clock on the counter read 12:06, and Elmyra busied herself with her standard evening tea, setting the water kettle onto the stove, and wondering idly where Aeris was; she was usually back from the Plate by this time. A discreet knock sounded at the door, tenative and light, and she began walking over to it, thinking that it was her daughter. Perhaps she had forgotten her keys on the way out the door, but that wasn't likely with her excellent memory. She opened the thick door a crack, in the manner of the slums, surprised to see that it was not Aeris, but a young, unkempt boy carrying a large, plain envelope.

Without waiting for her, he began talking quickly, excitedly. "A man was walkin' 'round Sector 5 today, askin' if we any of us knew ya. He gave me tat and said he was a currier ... from Mat, whoever dat is. I – "

He broke off dejectedly as Elmyra snatched the envelope, slamming the door shut as she tore the thick paper open. A small part of her mind reproached her for not offering the child anything, but she was by far more interested with reading anything, even supposedly, from Mat. Yes, Shinra had said he was dead, but Shinra lied a lot, didn't it? A small but incessantly active part of her soul had wished, even yearned that he was still alive, somewhere, somehow. Unfolding the paper rapidly, she stared at the salutation, not believing her eyes.

"Gainsborough,"

Was that all? Not even "Elmyra", or one of the loving nicknames he had given her, and not even any kind of endearment at all? Easing herself absentmindedly into a chair, she began to read. It was not long at all, but she went through it three times before putting it down, clasping her hands to keep them from shaking.

Gainsborough,

Defected. Married. Don't contact.

Mat

Four words. Harsh, stunning words, those were, without any extra for her to brace herself with. She picked up the letter again, looking at each word in turn, as if it could possibly soothe her. Her eyes began to moisten already, and she silently willed them not to. She was not a crier, and she wouldn't burden Aeris with this. The Light knew that child had problems enough, already.

Defected; he had fallen from Shinra's banner to join Wutai. A number of troopers had, but for the most part Sephiroth had hunted them down in person, determined to make examples of them and prevent further numbers from deserting. So somehow, Mat had survived that, though it was far more likely that the General had been preoccupied with other things at the time. Elmyra was torn between feeling grateful that he had lived and devastated that Sephiroth hadn't killed him, leaving him alive to send her ... this

Married; he had gotten over her and found someone else. She couldn't believe that. She just couldn't. Cradling her head in her hands, she felt her breathing become ragged, determined not to cry. Instead, she wondered if he had told his – new – wife about her or simply had never touched on the matter. Oh, Light, she had never thought that this could possibly happen. There had been a few times when she had thought it would be best to get over Mat and find someone else to help take care of Aeris, but she had always given it up, clinging instead to whatever small hope remained that he would be back. How had he gotten over her so quickly? How? No! She would not cry! A few beads of liquid trailed down her lined cheeks, though, no matter what she did.

Hurriedly refolding the already wet-stained letter and tucking it in back into the envelope – she did not want it damaged any more than possible – she tried to take deep, calming breaths like she had taught Aeris to, when her heart was troubled. It was not going to work; she felt as if there were a hand, clawed and vicious, grasping her soul, trying to crush it in thick iron bands of intense pain. Fate was being most cruel to her; she had suffered enough in the past, hadn't she? Why did she have to go through all of this? What wrongs had she done?

Her control shattered; her muscles jerked once in a spasm before going completely limp, tears rolling down her face, as she shook like a rag in high wind, grasping desperately against the table to prevent herself from falling to the ground. Her breath came in wretched sobs, and she used all of her remaining breath to shriek, "For the love of the Light, why!" over and over, voice fading as she repeated the mantra, as if she expected some divine angel to answer. She didn't know how long she was like that, head slumped against the kitchen table, but at long last her tears ran out and her breath steadied. The pain remained though, coursing and throbbing against her soul as she slowly wiped her eyes, red and moist, with her sleeve.

Sitting there quietly, though, rage soon replaced anguish, a fire that started small and began growing rapidly as she continued to fuel it with her thoughts. So, that damned bastard of a man decided to leave her, did he? He had the gall to send her a letter like this? Well. She was going to go to Wutai herself – locked gates or not, if a courier could get in, she could get out – and give Mister Matthew Gainsborough a piece of her mind! The kettle began shrieking, almost as if keening a war cry, and Elmyra took a glance at the clock – had it really been an hour already? She wondered where in the name of Hades her daughter was. Worrying her like this ... Grumping to herself, she turned off the gas stove, settling back down in her chair to wait. As the minutes passed on, she fumed; what could possibly be holding up Aeris like this? She had no right to make her mother concerned like this.

At long, long last, she heard fumbling at the door and the soft, scraping sound of a key. Elmyra took another look at the clock – 2:11. As the door finally opened and a dirty, disheveled Aeris finally stumbled through the door, she raised an eyebrow coolly and spoke firmly, her voice revealing nothing of the sadness that had taken her hours before, nor of the more recent rage that she held firmly in check. "Hello, dear."

"Oh, gods." Elmyra's eyes widened in shock as she recalled how that conversation had gone on, the harsh and accusing words her own mouth had uttered hatefully, uncaring. She remembered the hurt shock that had overwhelmed her daughter's eyes, the grim satisfaction that she had felt when she threw her out the door. Then she recalled what had happened afterwards, how she had gone through Mat's wine cabinet, picking a bottle at random and going at it like one of the slum drunks. She clapped a hand over her mouth, an immense wave of shame and self-hatred rolling through her.

"Oh, gods," she repeated in a soft voice on the brink of shaking.

What would her dear Aeris believe of her, now? Did she want to hit her foster mother, to kill her? No, Elmyra thought, Aeris wouldn't think like that. The girl had always been restrained and calm, but she had been drawing on her mother's unwavering strength and support to maintain that facade, Elmyra knew. How would she react to her foundation being shaken so badly, so rapidly? Elmyra rushed to her feet, shaking hands fumbling to unlock the door before throwing it aside. It could not be too late. This had to be salvageable!

Her eyes swept left and right rapidly, locking on a trail of boot prints half-deformed from the mud. She followed them into the garden hesitantly, eyes falling in shame as she caught a sight of pink amongst the yellow blossoms. Elmyra's breath caught; Aeris looked so weak there, so helpless, yet beautiful even so in a soft, demure way. She noted the trails on her daughter's face, from where tears had gone unheeded and dried in the night air, as well as the bruises on her upper arms from where she had seized her, with a deep self-loathing. How could she have done this to her little darling, the one person she treasured most?

Timidly, and hating herself for it, Elmyra lightly tapped her daughter on the shoulder. She opted out of her usual waking-up technique, an affectionate kiss on the forehead, telling herself that she didn't deserve to do it, not yet. Not after last night. Crouching to better facilitate eye contact, she waited for Aeris to wake up. It wouldn't take long, she knew; her daughter had always been a light sleeper, and she never tried to feign continued slumber, for which Elmyra was grateful.

Both eyes opened, the emerald green looking drearily dull and tired at first, lacking the luster that usually was in them from waking. After a brief second, realization occurred, and Aeris hastily eased herself into a sitting position, eyes narrowed suspiciously, irises flashing in badly concealed anger. Elmyra cringed; how much damage had she done to her, and how long would it take to correct it? She would try no matter what, but what if it was irreparable? What if she lost Aeris forever?

"Elmyra," Aeris stated flatly. The word came out in a bitter voice that Elmyra had never heard her daughter use before. "What do you want?"

Something about it just broke her down completely, seeing her daughter like this, hostile and unyielding, preparing, it seemed, for battle. Blue eyes glistening with emotion, she rushed forward and embraced Aeris tightly, words running rapidly as they left her as soon as her mind could form the thoughts.

Her voice trembled as she muttered into her daughter's hair, "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry about what I said earlier to you, every last word of it! Mat, he just sent me a letter, and I, I was so confused and angry, and then when you came home, I was worried about you being late and being hurt, but I misunderstood you so badly, and I overreacted and, and ... Aeris, dear, I am so, so incredibly sorry for doing what I did. Please ... forgive me?" Looking hopefully into Aeris' eyes, Elmyra knew and didn't care that she was crying again.

Aeris looked well and truly surprised, as well she might. Her eyes, though, had relaxed from their previously tense stance, instead returning to their usual soft roundness as she considered Elmyra with the usual blend combination of sadness, respect, and caring.

Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and emphatic. "Oh, I didn't know that Mat had written ... what did he say to make you so mad, mother? He has to be alive, then, doesn't he?"

"He ... defected ... during the war, and he ..." Elmyra hesitated, working up the resolve to continue. "He found someone else in Wutai. He said he didn't want to hear from me ever again." Elmyra trembled, fighting to keep her voice under control. For the first time, she felt her daughter return her embrace, and she felt a brief sense of relief for that. Aeris was not gone.

"Oh, mother, I'm so sorry for you ... and of course I forgive you!" Her voice was so open, so sincere; this was the Aeris that her mother knew and loved.

Elmyra beamed, blue eyes radiant. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! Now, let's get you back home with a hot meal and a change of clothes."

Aeris nodded fervently, face alight with a brilliant smile, and for two people, all was right with the world.

"With no delay." That had been his orders, and as much as he hated his job, Reno Jahar always followed his stated orders to the letter. What wasn't stated, though ... he had no desire to promote the company that he hated, now did he? And so, here he was, standing concealed in the shadows at the mouth of a dimly lit alley, looking at his target as she wept in the arms of her mother and deciding how best to capture her. Damn.

I hate this job. I just. Hate. It. But there was no other way, was there? He knew fully well that his sense of honor was a peculiar one, a heap of statements that more often than not disagreed and sometimes flat-out contradicted one another. He would always follow his orders, no matter what. He would also not harm unarmed women, no matter what. And if picking up a woman's daughter so that someone like Hojo could mess around with her wasn't considered "harm", the Light burn him, he didn't know what was. Still, orders, in the past and in the future, would always come first.

With a heavy sigh, he walked forwards at his normal pace, what most non-military figures called "brisk", his loping gait easily covering the distance. The two women didn't notice him at all, and just when he had come within a few feet of the two, Aeris had smiled. Frankly, the sight took his breath away like few other things did. He knew that she hadn't done it because of him, but the way it seemed to make her entire body glow with happiness, eyes twinkling with joy, tugged at strings deep within him that he dared not acknowledge on missions.

As soon as that twisted bastard Hojo gets his claws on her, she'll never smile like that again. Reno raged mentally. What kind of personal hell am I consigning this sweet, innocent girl to?

The files, which he had read over in their entirety three times, had been very clear on that; she had never been indicted for any crimes at all and was apparently well known both in the slums and on the Plate for her kindness and compassion. That just made it worse; it was easy enough – well, Reno admitted, easier – bringing in a murderer, or even killing one if that's what it came down to. Reno told himself he was doing society a favor, and his conscience decided to let that pass. People like this, though, who had never done a wrong thing in their lives, what excuse could he possibly have for them? How could he ever accept what damage he caused them?

Every mission like this wore a bit at his soul, which had never been quite intact in the first place. He knew that eventually, he would just break down from the incessant burden and strain; it was one reason he had adopted his joking, carefree stance – a psychiatrist had told him once long ago that it would be good for him, and the Turk had taken a lot of time to master this particular illusion. However, Reno thought, it might have fooled others, but he couldn't hide from himself. Yet he tried that, too, drinking as he did, and it obviously didn't work. Zack had come over to his office yesterday afternoon, making that fact very clear.

"Damn it, Reno, you can't keep doing this to yourself! You'll end up dead this way!" Zack said vehemently, slamming a gauntleted fist down on Reno's cheap metal desk, sending some of the already chaotically arranged paperwork fluttering into the air before descending and further destroying whatever sense of organization that there might have once been.

"Look, Zack, I know you're my buddy and have my best interests at heart, but I swear: I know what I'm doing here, alright? Just, you know, chill and get on back to SOLDIERing. I have work to do," Reno retorted. He was trying to get the goddamned transition forms on his assignment done, something all the Turks hated, and while the visit's intention was duly noted and appreciated, this was hardly saving him any time.

"No, I'm not going to just "chill", Reno. I am your friend! Friends are supposed to care about one another, remember, and for all my faults, I'll be damned if I just give up on you. I just came by to tell you that I will personally restrain you from getting drunk ever again if you don't decide yourself to stop," his voice was deadly serious, but then he lightened up again, "Hey, remember, I rank you."

"Ugh ... look, now's not a very good time, alright?" the redhead dodged furtively, "I have some twenty-odd pages left of forms to fill out, and I had hopes of finishing this in an hour ... until you showed up, at least." He tried to put in some conviction, but he knew his friend was right.

Zack sighed, "You know how it is. I'm not leaving until I get an answer out of you. The right answer, mind." Forgoing a chair, he cleared a corner off of the Turk's desk and sat down.

"You're no fun at all."

True to his word – as always – the ever-loyal, ever-irritating Zack had stayed in his small, cramped office for well over six hours before even he finally admitted defeat. If he was this tenacious on the battlefield, Reno thought, it was no wonder that Sephiroth had taken a liking to him. That thought still spooked the Turk occasionally when he took the time to think about it – he was one person away from knowing, really knowing, the General. To himself, he could admit that Sephiroth scared the hell out of him.

Enough with this nonsense. He was only wasting time, standing here like an idiot. The two women before him still hadn't noted his presence. How the heck do you stay alive in the slums when you can't even take note of your surroundings? Reno thought. Time to get this over with. Then he could collect his pay and move on. And that was all. Nothing more. Nothing more.

"Aeris Gainsborough. You are under arrest by executive order of President Shinra," Reno stated the official warrant as he had been taught, voice clear and enunciating every syllable. Hating every syllable for the pomp and grandeur, the sense that it was right, that it was lawful.

Then they noticed him. Aeris' dazzling eyes widened in shock, and her smile died away immediately. Shaking her head silently but desperately, she looked as if she were trying to break free from her mother's embrace and run. Reno frowned for multiple reasons; the one he admitted to himself was that running would be useless, as he stood in the way of the only way out. He missed the smile, too. No, he did not. Damn it, he did not miss the smile.

"Look, this is how it's going to happen. I really don't want to arrest you, but I have my orders, and I follow my orders to the letter. That is, I'm going to try and make this as easy as possible for you, so long as you cooperate," now, his tone was just weary; there was simply no easy way to go about this, "You're going to come with me to Shinra HQ, where you're going to talk to Director Tseng."

Reno noted her brief flash of recognition upon hearing the name. She seemed to have calmed down, or rather; the desire to flee irrationally was gone from her. Instead, Aeris sunk into her mother's hold. The latter woman embraced her protectively, glaring at the Turk with flashing eyes.

Since neither looked as if they planned on saying anything for some time yet, Reno continued. "I don't have orders to harm you if you don't resist or try to escape, so please don't, for your sake and mine. I also do not have orders to restrain you unless you resist or attempt escape, so once again, please don't. It's inevitable that you're going to be coming with me, but I don't think it's necessary to cause you any harm. Let's make this easier on both sides, alright?"

Aeris sighed, but it was obvious to Reno that she was steeling herself for what would come next. "Okay. Can I at least get a change of clothes before I go? I know Oda wouldn't want to talk to me like this." She gestured at her mud-splattered dress and coat.

Reno cringed inside; he could not very well tell her that she wouldn't need clothes where she would be going, could he? "Alright, but don't take too long, okay? Is ten minutes enough?" Oda? He himself hadn't known the Director's first name.

"I guess it'll have to be." Aeris gave him a brief smile before trotting back towards the house, leaving the two of them standing there awkwardly, neither looking at the other.

Reno opted to break the silence with his trademark apology. "Look, um, I really, really don't want to have to do this, you know. It's just ... I can't very well disobey my orders, can I?" His voice was strained.

The woman, surprisingly, softened her expression and gave him a pat on the shoulder and replied in a comforting tone, "I understand. Mr. Tseng used to come over, too, but mostly they'd just talk, while I watched ... we both knew this was going to happen someday. I guess we just tried to hide the truth from ourselves" A pause. "I appreciate that you're making things easier on Aeris."

That wasn't what Reno expected at all. No cursing, no crying, no raging and lashing out at him. And a pat on the shoulder? No one ever gave you a pat on the shoulder in the slums, unless they were trying to stick a knife in you; the Turk knew this from various personal recollections. Reno had had enough experiences with those, and various other sharp instruments, far too often for his own liking. To this day, he still disliked swords and knives, opting to fight with a rod instead. It might still be deadly, but at least he didn't have to worry about being haunted by corpses with torn rents, blood streaming. The dead were bad enough.

They waited in relative silence after that, as the sounds of Midgar, a city awakening, slowly began to surge around them. Reno was grateful for that; he disliked ominous silences. Soon enough, Aeris emerged from the house clad in a somewhat cleaner outfit; the Turk was just glad she had kept her word and not tried to do something idiotic, like trying to evade him somehow.

"Remember, don't try to escape, and don't try to resist, and I can treat you as well as anyone else," Reno reminded her, gesturing for her to start walking.

"Wait," Aeris considered him with a serious expression in her eyes, "Can you answer one question, first?" At the Turk's obvious hesitation, she added, "It'll go a long way in helping both of us get over my leaving." Darn it, she had found the right button to push already?

Ah, well, what harm can it do? "Ask," he replied, voice harsher than he wanted it to be, and he moderated his tone. "One question."

"Why am I such a threat to Shinra? Why am I being arrested?" Her tone was thick with confusion, open and obvious. It wasn't a bluff; the redhead had had enough experience dealing with liars to tell when someone was actually speaking the truth.

"You mean Tseng never told you? For all of three years!" Reno asked in tones of incredulity. Tseng... damn it, this is not how we're supposed to operate! And you were the one to talk to me about not letting emotions interfere with missions?

"No, he didn't..." Aeris looked uncertain, sounding worried, "Whenever he came by, about once every week, we would just talk for a few hours, and then he would say that he had something else to take care of, and he left."

Reno groaned mentally and made a note to have a little chat with Tseng as soon as he got back, but replied in a calm, terse voice, "Believe me, you don't need to know yet, Aeris. You'll be told when you speak to Director Tseng; he'll tell you then, I'm sure." He had better, at least. "Come on; we're leaving."

"Alright..." Aeris frowned at the answer, turning to flash one last smile at her mother, who smiled back before waving slightly, "Let's go, then."

Reno thought the two of them were taking this quite well, considering that both had been sobbing furiously not ten minutes ago. Women are strange. He shook his head wryly. They walked quickly along the worn dirt path until they were out of Elmyra's sight, when he took Aeris' left hand and clasped it in his right, making sure he didn't exert too much force and harm her. She jerked instinctively, but Reno was far stronger than her.

Indignation. "Hey! What was that about not restraining me?"

"Think of it as a comforting presence, then," Reno retorted lightly, giving her a cheeky grin as she frowned at him again.

"I do not need a comforting presence, and I most certainly do not want you holding my hand like that."

Reno threw back his head and laughed, which mildly surprised the girl, her eyebrows rising. "So, want me to bind and gag you instead, and then drag you to the Shinra Building on a leash?" Interesting mental imagery. "I could do that, too, you know," the Turk reminded her, grinning.

"I think I'll pass on that."

The rest of the trip to the service elevator passed in near silence as Aeris descended into a state that Reno would have called a mix between meditation and depression. Like a lot of the people he brought in, even if she didn't know what she was in for, Reno thought, she wasn't looking forward to it. Hell, who would?

Activating the lift with his keycard, he stepped in and pressed the 'UP' key, and the door slid closed with a grinding squeak behind them. The elevator was nothing more than a small box that rose and fell between the two levels, and the cramped conditions forced his "captive" to lean against him. He found himself rather enjoying the proximity, until he realized that her heart rate was much too rapid, and that her delicate hand, still enclosed in his larger, scarred one, was shaking in fear. Whatever thoughts of satisfaction he might have had died with that realization.

No matter how routine this gets for me, I'll always feel their pain, won't I? There's just no way to escape the truth. The thoughts came morosely, as usual. He realized that Aeris was having a very adverse effect on him, and resolved to get this over with as quickly as possible. Damn. Part of him wished that the elevator transit would never end, and that she would never have to face Hojo. Another, equally vehement part of him wanted to see her gone as soon as possible.

Soon enough, in any case, the elevator reached the Plate level, and the stainless steel doors slid open with that same ear-wrenching shriek. The area that the elevator had taken them to was a rather large business plaza, skyscrapers lancing into the sky on every side, while the door to the chute itself was badly disguised as an artistic decoration. Not many people were out yet, but that would change in a few hours. A few taxicabs were making their rounds, but Reno disregarded them; it was only a short walk to the Shinra Building, whose image was currently hidden behind one of the taller towers of the Plate. Tugging Aeris along – she was still in her pensive stance, and he was not in the mood for idle chatter right now – he began to walk quickly along the rough concrete sidewalks, quickly entering the heart of Midgar proper. Here, the massive Shinra Building loomed oppressively, its multiple skylights and searchlights on even at this early hour of the morning, always searching for resistance, dissidents, and properly disclosed information.

Wide green eyes locked on the immense shaft of steel and glass, the company insignia in blazing red, Aeris moaned in anguish, the first sound she had made for almost an hour. Reno had let his grip slacken, and with a surprisingly vigorous shake of her arm, the girl managed to break herself away from him, darting into one of the numerous side alleys. Cursing rampantly at his carelessness, the Turk pulled out his customized electromagnetic rod from under his coat and turned to chase after her. Luckily for him, her heavy brown boots made distinctive sounds on the Plate as she ran, and while she was quite quick for someone of her stature, she had received neither the training nor the conditioning that the redhead had gone through, and he caught up with her easily.

Grabbing her roughly by the shoulder and twisting her arm painfully to force her onto the ground, he instinctively pointed his weapon at her throat, his thumb on the current control, and warned her in a voice like cold steel, "I told you not to try to escape." Then he sighed and continued on in his more normal tone, "Hey, Aeris, look, I know this has got to be hard on you, but you shouldn't make it any worse than it has to be. I know you're afraid, but please don't do anything rash, or you might just get yourself hurt. I personally am going to do as you little harm as possible, because I'm nice like that, but there are other people out there that I can't say the same for." He let his rod drop to his side with another sigh.

Aeris glared at him vengefully, hissing at him in rage, "I hate you! Why do you have to wreck my life like this? Let me go!" With that, she tried to struggle against him and he pinned her as he was taught to do so, placing his body weight on top of hers and locking her arms behind her back..

Damn, but she feels pretty good beneath me like this. Reno scolded himself mentally for the irrelevant thought and spoke in a tired voice. "Look, Aeris, blame the suit, not the man, alright? Orders are orders. If it were up to me, you'd still be with your mom. Come on, let's get going." He didn't think he could endure any more of her company; she was too endearing, whether or not she tried to be, and her inevitable fate far too bleak.

Her writhing ceased, but she still shook with silent weeping. Reno eased himself off of her and helped her up, wondering how in the world women had so many tears to shed. Taking her hand again, he began leading her back to the Shinra Building entrance. Part of him just wanted to hold her silently until she stopped crying, to comfort her, but that would spark far too many rumors, and he could not afford to do it for fear of losing his job, and with it his source of income. He hardened his soul and forced himself to half-drag the weeping girl through the sliding glass doors.

The receptionist started to ask the Turk something, but he shot her a glare that promised painful death, and she shuddered, drawing in on herself before looking back at the assorted papers lying on her desk. He moved to lead Aeris off to the elevator banks to his right, but then he felt a slight tingling, and he knew that his eyes were on him.

He casually cast his eyes about until he found him. The General was standing at the entrance to the Gym – ah, yes, the demonstration was today – looking at him with those blazing green eyes, almost as if he were trying to bore a hole in the Turk's head with their gaze. As usual, his guarded expression revealed absolutely nothing, but he very countenance seemed to radiate extreme displeasure. Then he shook his head firmly and turned to enter the chamber, seeming to fade into thin air as he did so. The door opened by invisible hands and shut.

Aeris hadn't noticed at all; her eyes were still shut tightly, as if by denying herself sight, she could avoid the situation; her thin frame quivered slightly, like a rabbit eyeing the cooking fire. Shaking his head, Reno toggled the elevator, keying in his card with a little bit more force than necessary when it prompted him to do so. The elevator, he saw, was currently at the thirty-second floor, and it was descending rapidly. The redhead settled to wait.

When the thick doors opened a few minutes later, though, a familiar – and unwelcome – face looked inquisitively past him.

"Why hello there, Turk," he stated dryly, without turning his head. Senior Professor Tideki Hojo's voice was a cut, sharp and precise. That didn't stop it from gaining occasional tinges of cruelty or insanity, though. "And hello, dear. I've been a waiting a very long time to get you back in my custody again," he almost purred as his flat black eyes took in Aeris. "My, how you've grown..."

Aeris' eyes opened in shock. "Who...who are you? And what do you mean, 'again'?" She seemed to gain a bit of defiance as she continued, "I think I would remember if I ever saw a face as repulsive as yours."

Hojo gave one of his rare smiles, a bare widening of cracked lips that showed crooked yellow teeth, and Reno winced. No, the man certainly was not attractive, with his stooped back, thin frame, and sallow, drawn skin, but insulting the Professor was only a way to prolong your agony. And when Hojo smiled, he was going for the throat. Not slit it, of course. That was not his way. He would nick the carotid artery ever so slightly, watching with those unchanging eyes as the victim slowly, agonizingly bled to death, screaming for hours before it was finally over.

Tossing back his ponytail of lank, greasily black hair, he considered her with a roving eye behind his spectacles, liking what he saw in more ways than one. "Oh, you forgot me? How truly sad...I had so much fun with your mother, too, before she escaped. A pity they wouldn't let me work with you then, but now..." He laughed, and it sounded like a demon's cackling as it readied the whip.

"My mother...? You knew my real mother?" Her voice was shocked, and unless Reno's years of training had entirely deserted him, somewhat hopeful. Apparently, Elmyra had been her foster mother; he wondered idly how the file had missed out on that detail.

"Yes, I suppose you could say I...knew...Ifalna..." A pause. "Ah, I see... you destroyed your memories in an attempt to defend yourself, didn't you? You built up a wall around your past. I would have expected one of you to resist better than that. Perhaps it was because your father was so weak. Well, there's a time and place for everything, I suppose." He turned to Reno, irritably snapping his long, tapered fingers. "You'll give the girl to me. Now."

Reno faced the Wutain coolly; while Hojo ranked him, he could not simply take her like this. "My orders were to take her to Director Tseng, Professor Hojo."

"Your orders have been changed," he replied scathingly, pulling out of a sheet of paper and shoving it in the redhead's face. "Give me the girl now."

Reno scanned the document and swore loudly, though few were there to notice, and no one cared. "Well, Aeris, there's nothing I can do. You'll have to go with him." With a slight push, he released his grip on her. Any resistance on his part would do neither of them good.

"No, no, you can't let him take me!" Aeris' voice was a desperate cry as Hojo's bony hand clutched down on her shoulder, dragging her to him inside the elevator.

"Sorry, Aeris ... there's nothing I can do." The words burned him as he spoke as dispassionately as possible.

Hojo grinned maniacally, pressing the "Close Door" button. As the portal slid shut, Reno focused on her face and burned it into his mind. Light, he would probably never see her alive again, but he would be damned if he didn't make Hojo pay for this!

There were few things more motivational to the conventional human mind than a combination of respect and fear, and Shinra made use of this phenomenon quite effectively, Rude thought with something close to a smile. He hadn't been truly happy for over a dozen years now, but some things in life were still amusing – somewhat so, at least. What was about to happen in the next half-hour certainly was.

The locker room in the Shinra Building's massive subterranean Gym was empty except for Rude today, for the demonstration, and he took his time in dialing the combination lock to his personal changing room, making sure with a casual glance that everything was where it was supposed to be. He didn't bother with keycards or fingerprinting or iris scans; they could be fooled, and if a 25-set combination couldn't keep intruders not, nothing could.

Taking off his freshly pressed blue suit and white shirt to reveal a multitude of old scars and a toned mass of wiry muscle, he strode over to his armory, rifling through the extensive container until he found one of his Ziedrich. It was an interesting piece, and rare – only three that he knew of had ever been made, and all were in the possession of Shinra, or, more precisely, Rude. Made of a black metal that was strangely supple – it bent as easily as well-oiled leather – the Ziedrich could not be broken, pierced, melted, frozen, disintegrated, or harmed in any way that the Turk knew of, and he had conducted various experiments on one to ascertain it's weaknesses. It also, though no one was sure how, provided the wearer with complete bodily protection both physically and magically, further weakening all elemental attacks directed at it by a half. While it had no Materia slots, it served its purpose of keeping the Turk alive, and that was what mattered in the long run.

Placing the Ziedrich firmly around his abdomen, Rude unlocked his somewhat smaller box of Accessories, handling his Tetra Elemental bracelet with care as he placed it snug around his left wrist. It seemed so fragile, a series of intricately interwoven plaits of a glassine substance only a millimeter thick; the only distinguishing factor it had was that depending on how the light hit it, it seemed to glow vibrantly in shades of red, blue, white, and green. However, appearances aside – it drew a lot of derogatory comment when he wore it in public, for some reason – it had saved the Turk a great deal of trouble when he was out in the bush, dealing with Dragons and Serpents and the like, for it had the unique ability to absorb Fire, Ice, Lightning, and Earth energy located near the user and convert it into a curative force. It would be pivotal to his demonstration. Slipping on Reno's Tough Ring – his partner was kind enough to always let him borrow it when he didn't need it, which Rude was grateful for – and his preferred Master Fist, he put on his uniform again and, locking his room behind him, entered the Gym.

Normally full of gleaming, state-of-the-art equipment and sweating Shinra employees trying to work off their sedentary lifestyles, the massive Gym was cleared out today, as it was one day every month. Around two hundred people, most of them young men, all reasonably fit, crowded the open floor, sticking in small groups and talking loudly. Rude found that amusing; Shinra was giving them one last day of freedom before it began exacting its training regimen, closing down like an iron fist. Sitting to one side of the complex were Tseng and Heidegger, as usual not talking, or looking at one another at all. Rude frowned slightly; he didn't see Reno. The lanky redhead was usually here, too, as the Turks sometimes took early pickings for their program; the dark fighter assumed that he was off on his mission already. There would be one other in this room, too, but Rude didn't waste his time trying to find Sephiroth. That one could hide, Rude thought with a touch of admiration, when he had a mind to.

The heavy door behind him closed with a loud boom, and two hundred pairs of eyes turned towards him, some recognizing the blue suit and some not. No matter; they would all know and respect him before the hour was over.

Keying his small microphone, he began in a light, conversational tone, "Good morning, cadets. My name is Rude. I'm here to train you in unarmed combat."

That caused a murmur in the crowd, of course – it always did. Rude knew that the long sleeves of his suit and pants concealed his muscles quite well, and he wasn't all that tall of a man. One of the cadets, a tall blond who looked the stereotypical bodybuilder, sneered at him.

"He ain't so tough. Betcha I could take him on myself," he drawled, drawing a few appreciative glances from the crowd. "Hell, I ain't having a baldie teaching me to fight!"

Rude merely smiled at him, a mirthless flash of shining white teeth. The idiot would learn. They all would, eventually. Abruptly, he stuck out his right ring finger, retracting it after a heartbeat. Feigning shaking his head at the boisterous cadet, he caught Tseng's nod. It was time for the fun to begin. Let's start the music.

Suddenly, a portion of the ceiling crumbled and broke – something else for that Reeve to moan about, Rude thought – raining dust not three feet from where the Turk stood. Some of the cadets drew back, but the Turk merely stood there, turning his head to look at the gaping hole. He knew what was coming next, as only three others in the room did. Cracking his knuckles dramatically, he extended his arms in his preferred Fouad stance and pivoted smoothly on the tile floor as soon as he saw a flickering shadow appear on the ground beneath the hole.

H5N3 Carry Armor was a strange thing, Rude mused, as so many of Shinra's extensive ranks of war machines were. Painted a dull matte gray, it looked quite unsteady on its four tapered legs, the two oversized arms swinging menacingly through the air as it landed with a loud crash onto the Gym floor. Behind him, Rude thought he heard a collective gasp of shock from the cadets behind him.

Rude's spoke calmly, as if they were discussing some trivial matter over light drinks. "This will be your first demonstration on the benefits of combining physical and Materia attacks. Observe."

Drawing deeply on his vast energy reserves, he activated three of his Materia at once, a simple trick of the mind that most people never got the hang of. And while he couldn't direct his individual weaves – apparently, only the SOLDIER Commander White and Sephiroth himself could do that – the mere blending of magical and physical attacks could have a massive benefit to the power of both.

A flow of Mastered Fire energy struck the robot's left arm, wreathing it in blossoms of red-and-blue flame, while a simultaneous weave of Mastered Ice entwined itself around Carry Armor's right arm, freezing the join lubricant and rendering it immobile and useless. Without hesitation – one always should press one's advantages – Rude dashed towards the main body, quick, light bolts of Lightning streaking from his fists to smash against the reinforced diamond armor of his opponent, which hadn't even reacted yet. Accompanying his first flurry of elemental strikes, he lashed out at the sensory equipment with his trademark uppercut, the diamond ridges of the Master Fist easily shattering the glass and badly damaging the lens that the Lapis Laser relied on for targeting.

Settling back on his feet to catch his breath after his first salvo, Rude saw the Armor's still-functioning left arm swing towards him rapidly, Without thought – his daily training made most of all this instinct for him – he focused a blast of Ice energy on the joint that connected the arm to the main body. Already weakened from its previous heating, the metal lost further structural integrity, and the Turk simply met the blow with his Master Fist, smiling at the contemptuous ease at which he had accomplished this. The battle was essentially over, his Sense Materia told him, but he decided to give the cadets a show. Seizing the arm with his left hand, he jerked it forwards and then back. The joint groaned under the pressure and came apart, and Rude tossed the useless piece of metal aside as the robot, it's combat AI now going berserk, withdrew slightly across the floor.

"Is that all?" Rude asked in mocking tones for the cadets' sake. His voice was light, unhurried, and he wasn't breathing heavily at all.

This was almost too easy, Rude thought; he made a note to speak with Scarlet regarding her 'projects' in the future. Rushing forward once more, the Turk wove a simultaneous burst of Fire and Ice energy, sending it towards the robot's four walking joints, pivoting as he did so to send a flurry of kicks at the already damaged sensor package. With its support gone, it buckled under the force, trembling.

Man, this really is too easy, Rude thought, de-activating his Fire and Ice Materia but tapping into his Aero and Earth orbs. They need to up the ante next time around.

A simple weave of Air served to send the robot flying through the Gym, its right arm dangling comically as it attempted to function. Rude set eight weak flows of Lightning to activate one after another, a marching column of bolts stabbing downwards as it seemed to pursue the machine across the chamber. Even as he did so, he ran forward, and when the last flow ceased, he grabbed the Carry Armor's surprisingly still-attached right arm, turning about and using its momentum against it before flinging it down. It fell rapidly, only to be met by the rising peak of Mastered Earth energy, shooting it into the air yet again. As it fell one more time, smoking ominously, Rude pivoted on his left foot, rising into one last powerful kick, centered directly over the machine's engine.

With a slow, creaking groan of warped metal and damaged parts, the H5N3 finally settled on its side, completely and utterly destroyed in barely over a minute. Rude calmly walked back over to the assembled cadets, who were now completely silent. With muted satisfaction, the Turk saw that that annoying blond now had his mouth hanging open. Nonchalantly settling the lapels of his coat, he sat down besides Tseng, leaning back in his chair and with one leg over the over in an image of supreme disdain.

"That," the Turk gestured with the Master Fist, Materia still glowing, "is what each and every one of you should be able to do by the time you finish your training with Shinra." Not that he expected even one of them to be able to replicate his feat, of course.

He wasn't sure who started it, but the sound of a lone man clapping was heard soon after his obviously exaggerated pronouncement. Not long after, all of them were applauding, even the one who had insulted him before. Rude and Tseng shared an amused glance. Now they respected one part of Shinra's power. Soon, they would fear another.

The room was silent. The applause had died away, slowly, and now it seemed like the air was waiting for a sign to ambush them, sitting perfectly still and quiet until it did. Tseng thought it all rather amusing, really; If this was how Rufus wanted to spend his presidency, the young man would make a laughingstock out of himself. Rambling about power and fear, he was the one who had started these demonstrations half a year ago, and so far it had proved to be noting but a drain of funds, with almost nothing in the way of returns.

As he waited for the General to make his entry – he sure liked the dramatic, whatever his claims to the contrary, Tseng thought – he wondered idly where Reno was, and how he was doing with Aeris. Part of him seriously regretted giving the redhead the burden of dealing with the girl, but he just didn't trust himself to solve the problem at hand without botching things very badly, indeed.

The girl was enigmatic, no doubt about it. However, from his many talks with her, Tseng concluded that she didn't know about herself, about the Cetra, about the Planet. The first time, watching her deal with her own problems – the Light alone knew she had enough of them, he simply could not work up the heart to explain to her and her mother that she had to protect an entire Planet and deal with all of its troubles.

And so he had come back, week after week, telling himself each time that he could get over his regret at seeing her hurt and get the truth to her, and that it would be better once she knew. Unfortunately, it was obvious that his plan had backfired the moment he realized that he was at ease, laughing even, in her presence. His plan, he had realized, simply required him to be enough of a cold-hearted statue to not care about her for it to work, but unlike all of his other projects, the Director had found himself weakening in his resolve, losing his edge, whenever he was around her.

The girl was just too kind for her own good, damn it. She had insisted on him talking about his dilemmas and problems with her, and he had found himself obliging, if not going to into detail, on all of the shadows and nightmares that had haunted him for so long. She had helped him, surely, and Tseng quickly found himself wanting to help her, which was impossible for someone in his stance and position.

Soon enough, he had found himself bringing her gifts, small things of great use to people in the slums. He had listened to her woes, talked her through her doubts, and comforted her when she wept. And so, on a dull Saturday morning, on the way down to the slums, Oda Tseng had a shock, realizing that he had found himself caring for her. So obvious yet so surprising he found this that he returned to his office directly, in shame and anger. How had this happened to the Director of the Turks?

He had avoided her for almost a month after that, until the President had reminded him of his duties, offering to send him backup and support if she still continued to manage evading him. That was when he knew, finally, that he couldn't keep this up. Aeris had, somehow, endeared herself to him, and now he could not bear to stand before her with guns pointed at her. He could scarcely imagine doing her any harm at all, and that was when he had finally pressed the file onto Reno, who had so quickly seen the truth in that odd way of his.

Part of him hoped that Reno brought her back immediately to the Shinra Building, and that they could all get over Assignment 1745, but another wished that the redhead could do the same that Tseng had, keeping her safe for as long as possible. It was all so confusing, so irritating! For men whose lives relied on the precise application of logic, it seemed unbelievable that something so petty as human emotion could get in their way.

For his part, he had had that talk with Hojo, not so subtly warning him about proper treatment for the girl, which the greasy-haired man – Tseng was ashamed that they were of the same nationality – had seemed to find amusing. I'll treat her just as well as every other specimen whom I examine, he had said. Perhaps the scientist had even thought his words re-assuring, but Tseng had looked at the records, examining the long list of those who had died at the Professor's hands.

Thinking of how she had changed him so much for the better in the three years that he had known her, and wondering if she would still be functioning to receive his thanks in another three, he bowed his head, swearing in the manner of his ancestors. The Light burn me, he vowed silently, she won't be just another name on a list.

What had the flower girl been doing here, detained by the Turks? Sephiroth hated not knowing the answer to something, and even he could only fathom the wildest of guesses for this query. It was probably something to do with her abnormal mind, he decided. Perhaps Hojo was trying to tap her inbred power; maybe he was even considering breeding the trait into humanity. Either way, he knew, the girl was going to suffer quite a bit, even if Hojo decided not to indulge his whims and "enjoy himself", which was quite unlikely. He realized that she would probably not survive for long, and that brought a slight frown to his face; she could have been quite useful in time, if her potential was exposed. No matter; he concentrated on the "task" at hand.

Sinking to the level of scaring initiates. Sephiroth wondered idly how in the world the greatest General in existence had gotten himself into this. He had stood among them for the entire time, and they hadn't noticed him at all, courtesy of a simple weave of Manipulation. With simpletons like these, bullyboys and brawlers, it was simple to convince their shallow minds that he wasn't there, no matter what their eyes told them. Sighing mentally, he wove a sheet of Fire and Air, creating a shimmering curtain of light that hung suspended on nothing a few feet from the front-most initiate. If he had to do this, he might as well do it well.

"Welcome." One flow made the source of the noise seem to be the curtains of light, while another simple weave made the words loud and booming, reverberating throughout the chamber. "I am your General, Sephiroth." Though, he thought, if I ever have to lead people like these on the battlefield, I'll hand in my resignation letter.

As he spoke, he let the weave disintegrate into nothingness. Bending the fabric of his reality, he inserted himself where the curtain had once been. It was a trick that seemed to have nothing to do with Materia, and he attributed it to his Cetran ancestry. It was certainly helpful in many tactical situations. Unfortunately, he could only Blink – or so he called it – himself and the Masamune, and only for short distances, but it was much better than conventional forms of transport. He heard and ignored a few gasps of surprise. They would be doing much more than that eventually.

"In one year, those few of you who survive training will officially be under my command." He spoke in hard, ringing tones with a sardonic smirk. He ignored the eyes that had widened at "those few of you who survive" and continued, "I expect any forces I must lead to be somewhat competent. If you do not fulfill my requirements on the term 'competency', I will not be pleased."

To demonstrate, he flung out a gloved hand in the direction of the nearest cadet, summoning the Masamune in his mind. The young man before him gulped, brown eyes bulging as he saw the point of the legendary blade mere centimeters from his shaking throat. Only for an instant, though – with a completely unnecessary flash of smoke, Sephiroth Blinked to the other side of the crowd, which promptly began moving away from him. Good. It was nice to have such a pronounced effect, early on.

"Not so fast. I have more to say," Sephiroth smiled then, like a wolf contemplating an especially tasting morsel of deer. "Do not attempt to escape."

Four weaves of Fire and Air formed a cage of sorts around the cadets, its walls formed of what appeared to be dull red wires, almost too thin to be seen. Sephiroth hoped none of the initiates would be so stupid as to try to touch their bounds, though; while it exuded no warmth, the temperature would rival that of the Planet's core. To his immense displeasure, one of the initiates attempted to run, and the wires quite literally sliced him apart, carving burning slashes through his flesh. He was dead before he could scream, and Sephiroth sighed lightly at the bother, crushing the corpse in a fist of Earth. The cadaver disintegrated into fine dust as the other initiates looked at him with true terror in their eyes.

Sephiroth merely grinned at them; it seemed well and truly evil to the initiates. "I will not tolerate attempts at escape or desertion at any time. Anyone – anyone – under my command who attempts to run during a combat operation will have to deal with my personal administrations. And believe me, that man had it easy. During the Wutain War, he would have had days to scream before he died."

Blinking once more to the unoccupied half of the room, he continued, "However, learn well, train well, and fight well, and I will prove to be an infinitely useful ally. I never let down men who serve faithfully. The unfaithful, on the other hand..." He gave them a moment to digest that. "The previous demonstration gave you a look at what a mere human can accomplish. As much as I respect Rude for his fighting skills, he is human, and subject to human limitations. I, on the other hand..."

They had chosen to use a Dragon for this, for the simple reason that normal people feared Dragons. One had been captured from the Nibel Mountains a few weeks earlier, just so Sephiroth could annihilate it and prove his point. A large door to the side of the Gym opened, and the Dragon surged forward, roaring as it lunged towards Sephiroth, gleaming claws and teeth shining under the multiple lights.

Sephiroth ignored it until the very last possible second, with its claws rising forward to maul him – though it would do him barely any harm, he did not want to be seen as someone who allowed himself to be struck. He focused his immense Cetran power, channeling with all of his might, and directed it towards the Dragon. A solid wave of shadow, blacker than moonless midnight, rolled over the Dragon, and it was gone. Just like that, vanishing without a trace. He Blinked back to stand amongst the initiates.

"...am not so constrained," he concluded dryly.

He didn't mention how difficult and tiring it was, even for him. Warping reality to swallow a sentient being was heavily taxing, or else he would have wiped Wutai's army into nothingness and ended the war in a day. Even the Dragon, barely intelligent as it was, had posed a bit of a challenge.

"Over the next year, you will receive extensive training on weaponry, unarmed combat, Materia theory, tactics, and elements of strategy. I trust that you have witnessed and dealt out much violence in your previous lives. Shinra will direct your wrath, hone your rage, and temper your motivations. You will emerge from training far better men than when you entered. Or, you will emerge dead."

His official part of the presentation was over, but he decided to add a finishing touch, just for the sake of it. Letting his over flows die, he began weaving one of the most complex nets of energy that he knew, a blend with touches of virtually every element and Material substance in existence. For this purpose, they had to be present. Finished, he let it coalesce, witnessing with muted glee the screams of the initiates. He had been unsure if it would work as intended.

They were all standing in the blue-green ocean, golden sunlight streaming upon them as a warm breeze wafted a tang of salt their way. Or, at least, their minds told them they were, engrossed in the extensive Illusion that he had laid upon them with painstaking care. And so, they thought they were sinking beneath the rolling waves, drowning, dying. In reality, they simply stood there, eyes gaping at an image that wasn't there, mouths working silently as they thought they were attempting to breath. They also were not respiring, something that was soon apparent to Tseng.

"Sephiroth, stop this immediately!" he ordered, black eyes flashing in outrage. "I will not tolerate any more training losses than necessary."

"As you wish, Director," he replied with a mocking bow. However, he let the weave hold for a few seconds longer before letting it dissolve with a sigh; it had been one of the finest he had ever done. All around him, initiates were on their knees, gasping for breath, displaying various shades of blue and green on their faces. One of them retched loudly, and others soon joined him. Sephiroth smiled; he had done well on these. They would serve Shinra to the letter. He wove another weave of Manipulation around them, hiding himself, and he prepared to leave.

And what of he? He considered that question hypothetically, well aware of the dangers that could result from unwitting thought. He himself served because he had nothing better to do. He had no desire for more power, no desire for more wealth. He had taken this life because it was the first to offer itself to him, and he had stayed because he had no preference as to how he spent his time. It concerned him, sometimes, that he should not have a goal in life, but for the most part, he decided that it didn't matter. He was content, if not satisfied, and unless something changed to make it otherwise, he would not grumble.

Or so he told himself, walking out of the Gym.

The shivering had begun as soon as he woke up, but the cadet had merely attributed that to not having placed his blankets correctly, or a mishap in the air conditioning last night. However, soon after he had willed himself to rise and get breakfast, the shaking had started, minor and almost imperceptible at first, but mounting inevitably until he found himself on the floor in the hall, twitching like mad. A fellow cadet went to get the base medic, and Cloud could only bow his head in shame. He knew that this was.

Some people tolerated Mako in their body better than others; the first, brief showering was merely to see how one's skin cells reacted the days after. Those with unusually high levels of Mako tolerance were said to feel giddy and lighthearted, as if the noxious gas was acting like a narcotic. Others, those with low levels – like him, Cloud thought bitterly – felt a terrible cold, as if a blizzard raged on the surface of his skin. That, he knew, was from his immune system trying to fight the foreign substance, and while his body was trying to mean well, the only changes it could possibly wreak were for the worse.

He vaguely heard voices talking animatedly over him, but the cold still gripped him, and his brain would not work as he directed it to.

Soon, though, he felt himself being placed on a bed and a sharp pain from a needle entering his arm. He tried to struggle free of it – he hated needles – but his muscles, knotted and tense, would not comply, and then he felt a searing heat spread throughout him, bringing him back into the world. He opened his eyes groggily to see a mane of tangled black hair staring down at him, and he struggled to control his vocal cords correctly as the effects of the Potion sank in.

"Zack...that you?" His voice was pitifully faint, Cloud realized. "I reacted ... badly ... didn't I?"

His trainer – former trainer, he corrected himself, nodded soberly, and Cloud sighed softly, easing himself up in his bed, waving away the medic, who looked on with emotionless eyes, with arms that felt like they were full of lead. The mental pain hadn't come yet. He knew it would. All of his dreams, gone in an instant. Shattered like a mirror, leaving only jagged shards of the image behind.

"So...what's the protocol on this?" He struggled to put conviction behind his words, failing miserably. "When do they kick me out?"

"Oh, come on, Cloud, it's not that bad! A lot of people fail to make SOLDIER their first time, for various reasons." The First-Class didn't mention, of course, that they generally failed on the examination, and that Mako tolerance was set basically from birth. "Anyways, you'll have to visit the Shinra Building laboratory so that they can get the last traces of the Mako out of you, and then you're free to go."

"Right," he responded, voice terse and clipped.

"Look, it's not the end of the world, alright, so stop talking like it is? There are plenty of other opportunities here. You could join the regular army, or apply for the Turks, or be a chef, or a Chocobo jockey, or whatever you want! Midgar is a land of opportunities, remember, and a lot of them don't involve waving swords in peoples' faces!" Zack chided him gently.

But he was not going to become famous in the regular army, and the notoriety of the Turks was something he definitely did not want. And a chef or a Chocobo jockey? If Tifa ever saw his name in the headlines for that, he would die of shame. Still, he had to do something, if for no other reason to sustain him here. He certainly couldn't afford a trip back to Nibelheim with the meager spending money that the cadets were given.

Getting to his feet unsteadily, he spoke softly, much more in control. "Lead the way. Let's get this over with." The Commander nodded tersely and led off at somewhat less than the usual pace out of respect for Cloud, who forced his tired, aching legs to move forwards, one step at a time. It was hard for mental reasons, too; once he left, he was officially out of the running for entry into SOLDIER. If he could stay behind, he wouldn't be a failure, would he?

Maybe he hadn't gotten into SOLDIER, but he wasn't completely useless, now was he? He could still fight, at least. The army didn't hold as much glamour as the elite ranks of SOLDIER, but Turk training was rumored to have a rather high mortality rate. Much as he would rather not be assigned to some vague backwater to rot, he didn't think catching a few dozen bullets would help his lifespan, either. They continued on their way, both silent.

The compound was close to the Shinra Building, where the last of the new cadets were filing off to their new barracks. They entered the complex, heading for the elevators. Off to one side, Cloud saw the three Turks speaking urgently to one another in hushed tones. As they entered the lift capsule, the redhead – Cloud wasn't sure what his name was – shouted in the leader's tense yet worried face.

"What do you mean, 'It was for the best'! Do you have any idea at all what he's going to be doing to her?"" he exclaimed in tones of outrage.

"Well, what do you suggest I do, then?" the Director replied in tones not much more controlled. "Think with your head, Reno, not your goddamned heart!"

But before they could hear more, the doors slid shut, blocking off all sound as they rose through the dozens of levels in the building.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Cloud ventured timidly. His trainer's face had been set in a light frown ever since he had heard the exchange, but the blond was curious. Turks, angry? It seemed a contradiction; they were always cold, ruthless operatives.

"A mission, probably. Reno is disagreeing on grounds of morality, as always." He snorted, though not in humor. "A Turk with morals...who would have thought it possible? Anyways, I'm concerned for him. He's a great guy, but he cares too much, and it might get him hurt some day. You know, Cloud, arguing with the Director is not good for your health, you understand?"

"You talk like you know him well, this Reno."

"Haha, yeah, well, we're pretty alike, really." He obviously meant character-wise; short, stocky Zack with his black tangles looked nothing at all like the lithe, tall Turk with his close-cropped red hair. "We don't like the Company all that much, but we're loyal and we follow our orders. We both have a pretty similar sense of honor, but we're also rather laid-back and carefree, most of the time. Oh, and we both love to go after the girls. How could I forget that?"

The two shared a quiet chuckle at that. For the relatively short time that he had known him, Cloud had already seen far too much of his superior's more wild side. The elevator dinged pleasantly on the 67th floor, and the two of them filed out, entering Hojo's extensive laboratory complex at the north side of the room.

"I really don't like this place," Zack muttered, seemingly to himself. "That guy is a nut."

Cloud nodded solemnly; he had no love of the labs, either, with their sterile, hostile environment, and he certainly had no love of the master there. Zack used his SOLDIER card to enter the premises,

Hojo stood inside a large glass cage in the center of the complex, humming idly as he stood over the sleeping girl on the inside of the cage. Cloud looked again, shocked. He was taking off her clothes! Beside him, he saw Zack's jaw drop; both detested the man on sight. His laboratory coat was stained and dirtied with various substances, some of which Cloud was sure were blood. His skin had an unhealthy pallor and looked like it was too small for his body, stretching over too-thin limbs, but the worst was the eyes. Small and bloodshot, squinting behind those spectacles of his, they examined everything coldly, seeking and probing and testing and breaking, all for what the scientist considered the advancement of his field, not caring how many lives he destroyed in the process. Zack had told him a story once about how Hojo had once made a man scream his every waking hour for a year, just to prove he could. Zack had added in hushed tones that he had even kept the poor fellow sane, but that even he couldn't keep his heart beating in the end.

"Yes?" The scientist had noticed them, directing his gaze at them, and Cloud noted with distaste that even his voice sounded like a scalpel, sharp and keen and eager. "I'm busy with my new specimen, here." He jerked a thumb brusquely at the unconscious figure laying before him.

Zack's brows, which had a moment before shot up in surprise, now furrowed in anger; his voice, though, was calm enough; learning to keep his emotions in check was almost one of the first things a SOLDIER learned. "This cadet needs to have an E13B performed on him. He reacted badly to his first exposure with Mako."

"Very well, but this one," he gestured absentmindedly to the girl, "requires my ministrations yet. Albert!" he called to a nearby assistant. "Take care of the man."

Cloud sighed, "Well, I guess I won't be seeing you, Commander."

"Nah, we'll meet again sometime. I'm sure of it." And with one last, firm handshake, he turned his back and left, shaking his head and muttering darkly.

Letting the assistant lead him off to a tank that looked ironically similar to the first, Cloud let his dreams of SOLDIER die with a bitter sigh, easing himself into the tub, where a solution of warm, relaxing fluids soon began to pour in. A feeling of drowsiness overcame him quickly, and he let his eyes close. He made up his mind to join the army tomorrow. It was the least he could do.

By the time the first scream pierced the air, Cloud Strife was long asleep.

(A/N: Meh, my first "action" scene... I wasn't completely satisfied with how it came out, but hey, it's just something else for me to work on.

On a related note, I think that the Turks were a lot stronger than they were portrayed to be in the game. I personally thought that they weren't really showing all of their ability, since it seemed apparent that after a while, they didn't really want to continue fighting AVALANCHE. For this fic, they won't be invincible (as we'll see later on), but they aren't weaklings, either.

Sephiroth, too, I think, was just toying with Cloud until the very end, when Cloud surprises Sephiroth (again) with his being able to finally 'defeat him' (cough). I may have overpowered him somewhat, but he isn't going to be omnipotent, either.

Anyways, please take some time and leave a review! I really appreciate them, and they help me to work faster, I find. I myself think my weak points lie on characterization and dialogue, though I've been trying to insert dialogue and shorten up the huge text blocks that you could find in the earlier 2 chapters. Meh.

Until next time, I suppose.)