.8.

Her breath was ripped from her as she fell, stolen from her very lips as she twisted about uncontrollably midair. The screaming intensity of her descent thundered through her ears; fighting the pressure of the air rising against her she maintained even then her death's grip on the folders. She had only a few seconds to interpret this new situation—to see with eyes that were tearing up from the cold, from the speed with which she plummeted the ground rising swiftly up to meet her, and in those seconds her mind screamed at her this will hurt!

The impact itself was beyond agony, beyond any pain she'd ever known. Shielding her head with one outflung arm, she struck the concrete some thirty floors from where she originated with enough force to cause the ground to first heave and then sink. She blacked out then, unable to withstand the immense torture, and for how long she existed only in darkness she had no way of knowing.

"Aeris."

The sound of her name brought her swimming back, unwilling, to consciousness, and as she surfaced from the merciful depths of oblivion her world narrowed to only one thing: pain. It lanced through every inch of her body and resounded in her skull; as her eyes began to roll back into her head a new sensation, a touch of hand made torturous by the rawness of her flesh, refused to let her drift away again.

"Aeris," came the voice again, more insistent and urgent this time. "Aeris, can you hear me?"

She fumbled through the haze of suffering that oppressively clouded her being, trying to answer with a mouth pressed against a cold hard surface, attempting to speak with a tongue that tasted nothing but blood. She had to move, had to lift her face away from the ground; her fingers clutched at small pebbles as she exerted her arms to push her body up and away, to roll herself over and face whoever it was that spoke. Muscles trembling violently, she rose only a hairsbreadth before her arms gave way and she collapsed heavily with a muffled whimper. Her shoulder felt as though it was on fire, and with a detached and assessing part of her mind she realized it was dislocated.

More hands on her then, doing what she could not and lifting her carefully, gently; even this cautiousness caused her to cry out in agony. She was lifted into a sitting position, supportive hands at her back to keep her from toppling over. Through glazed eyes she stared at the closest of her saviors, and it took her several long moments to realize it was the Turk known as Rude.

"Do you understand me, Aeris?" He asked, staring at her intently over the rims of his lowered sunglasses, dark eyes clearly indicating apprehension. With the hand not supporting her he held up two fingers in her line of vision and waved them back and forth; a relieved noise left him as her eyes followed their movement.

"F-files," she finally mumbled, after finding her voice and spitting out a mouthful of blood. "Need them …"

"They're right here; Elena is gathering what she can of what fell out." Blinking in an attempt to dispel the grey haze that obscured her vision, Aeris looked beyond Rude's broad shoulder to see the petite blond form of the only female Turk darting to and fro in the ShinRa Inc. parking lot, stooping low to pick up stray papers. With great effort and no small amount of pain Aeris craned her neck back to stare into the night sky, trying to originate the point from which she'd fallen from. Sephiroth would be here soon to ascertain she was dying or dead, and to take back the information she'd stolen. As if reading her thoughts, Rude asked, "Can you stand?"

"Don't know," she answered slowly; her jaw was stiff and reluctant to move. Rude moved to kneel at her side and slipped an arm around her shoulders, lights from the parkade momentarily reflected off the smooth baldness of his head. As he lifted her—mostly of his own accord—Aeris bit down hard on a tortured scream and concentrated instead on breathing and not passing out. When finally supported by her own two feet Rude drew away; she swayed on the spot but did not fall.

"We need to get you out of here," Rude said then, casting a furtive glance around; he too knew that it was only a matter of time until security teams arrived.

"My shoulder …" Aeris said, "Dislocated."

The sound he made was either one of sympathy or one that indicated he was unsurprised by this news; she was in no state to decipher which. He gripped her injured shoulder hard and braced the other on the flat of her stomach; looking her in the eyes he said grimly, "I'm sorry."

She had no time to brace for it; in one swift, brutal movement he'd realigned her shoulder, and if he hadn't been standing before her she would have collapsed. When she became fully aware once more she was half draped across him, and with a murmured apology she pulled away.

"Time to go," Rude said suddenly, whirling about and letting loose a piercing whistle. Elena's head snapped up at the sound, and without hesitation she ran to join them. Sirens could be heard rising on the distance, drawing ever nearer and their lights could be seen piercing the ever-darkening dusk as they approached the ShinRa Inc. headquarters. Rude gripped Aeris' arm and began to run, pulling her with him; she had taken only two steps before releasing a muffled scream, for the sudden weight on her right leg indicated further serious injury in that part of her anatomy. She went down, stumbling, only to have Rude haul her upright swiftly, cradling her in his grasp with one arm around her back and the other under her knees. He was seemingly unhindered by her weight; he ran smoothly, quickly, but each step jarred Aeris' battered body so that her consciousness ebbed and flowed from her like the tide. She was remotely aware of Elena's constant presence, smaller yet more fleet than that of Rude, as she raced at their side.

Breathless words were exchanged amongst the two; clinging as tight she could to the tatters of awareness that even now threatened to slip from her, Aeris struggled to interpret what was being said. She caught several fragments: Tseng, safe house, Rufus, and orders, and knew with some relief that the Turks were taking her somewhere secure, someplace where she could recover from this night's incidents. When the movement around her changed, when she was jostled about and felt beneath her then the plush upholstery of a vehicle seat, when she heard the telltale quiet rumble of an engine coming to life she let the oblivion which lurked ever near to finally overtake her. It was hands on her body again that roused her somewhat, and through half-opened eyes she watched as again Rude lifted her, watched as Elena led the way into a building that looked as ramshackle and as derelict as any she'd ever seen. The door opened under Elena's deft twist of a key, and she shut it swiftly behind them as Rude crossed the threshold.

This was a safe house, Aeris realized as she fought to interpret all she was seeing once Elena had switched on the light—a small suite fully furnished with boarded up windows and iron bars across the sills. On one wall numerous rifles were hung and below them on a shelf sat matching boxes of ammunition. Quickly Rude crossed to the bed in the corner and divested himself of Aeris as gently as he could; she managed to stifle her whimper as the slight movement sent piercing, blistering waves rushing to her very core. The Turks began to converse again tersely, urgent undertones obvious to Aeris even in her dazed state. When Rude knelt at the side of the bed to speak again to her she struggled to make her brain pay attention.

"—go now." He was saying, and his words came to her as though from down a long, cavernous tunnel. "They'll be suspicious if we're not back—" Her hearing deserted her momentarily as she stared at him, willing the movements of his lips to form something coherent. Abruptly she could hear him again, and caught the last of what he said as he stood, "One of us will be back shortly to help you. Just stay calm, and try not to move."

If she could have found the strength to laugh at that she would have, but it eluded her. She watched through darkening vision as Rude turned, sliding his ever present sunglasses back into place over his eyes—ludicrous he wore them even at night—and beckoned Elena to follow. As the door closed behind them, as the sound of the deadbolt being slid home reached her ears she let her eyes fall shut, unable to withstand the combined strength of exhaustion and agony any longer; her last thoughts were those of amusement, because the dreaded scourge of Midgar, the notorious strike force of Rufus ShinRa, were doing their best to ensure she survived.

.x.

Sephiroth sat silently beside the slight, almost skeletal frame of Dr. Aurelius Hojo. Seated directly across from them on the other side of the large, oval table that was the focal point for the President's conference room were Rufus ShinRa and his right hand man, Zhao Tseng. Seated at the head, his considerable bulk causing his chair to incline slightly to the side, was the President himself. The tension in the room was almost tangible; most everyone in this room despised each other in one way or another. At the moment, however, all eyes were trained on the large video screen set into the north wall of the room and the footage it was showing.

It was a familiar sight to Sephiroth; this was the security footage from the night previous. He watched through lowered lashes as he confronted the woman who had attempted to kill him, as she struck back against him with a power to rival his own. As the video proceeded he regarded the others in the room; Rufus and Tseng's expressions were both unreadable, The President watched with a scowl, and Hojo wore a strange, eager smile. As the brief and incredibly violent brawl abruptly came to a finale with his would be assassin crashing through the window, the President turned off the video screen by pressing the associated button set into the table top. Still wearing his ferocious scowl, he asked of no one in particular, "Please answer me this—who the hell is that woman?"

"More to the point," Hojo interjected before the question could be answered, "what is that woman?"

Attention was on the doctor now, and he continued. "She's obviously not human. A human would not be able to hold their own against Sephiroth. Or survive a fall from a thirty seventh story window."

Inwardly, Sephiroth bristled at this; his pride had been damaged by this latest …incident … even more than his body had been. It was Tseng who spoke next, his words measuring. "Wouldn't it be more prudent, Doctor, to be concerned with who she's working for? There's already been one attempt on the General's life—"

"Which failed," Hojo interrupted, a slight sneer twisting his thin lips.

"Barely," Rufus said then, smiling unpleasantly in the direction of the doctor.

This angered Hojo, which had undoubtedly been the Vice President's goal. "A shot such as that would have killed a mortal man! And yet Sephiroth is here, at my side—"

"Alive and well, yes I know, Hojo." Rufus' smile had faded, and as he reclined in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest. "Which brings the question to mind of what exactly will kill the dear General. Pardon my morbid curiosity," he said with a nod in Sephiroth's direction, "But I don't doubt you've wondered that yourself."

Sephiroth flashed his own tight lipped smile. "It has crossed my mind."

"What I want to know," the President cut in, his irritation at the subtle squabbling of his underlings prominent, "is who she is, and why she tried to kill the General. Surely, son," he said, and that one word dripped with malicious intent, "your Turks were able to unearth something about her?"

"We've found nothing." Tseng replied, meeting the dour glare of the President with his own impassive and unflinching gaze.

The noise the President made was a rude one; Hojo said then, "I want her in my lab. I need to know what she is. I can use her," he leaned closer to the President, his tone obsequiously wheedling. "No mere mortal has that strength."

The President considered for only a moment. "So be it. Dispatch who you will to hunt her down and bring her in. Rufus … have your Turks searching high and low. I want her found sooner rather than later."

"Unharmed," Hojo added.

"Fine. Unharmed. Any information is to be brought to me immediately. Am I understood?" The President cast his gaze around all those present and was apparently satisfied by their nods or murmurs of assent.

Sensing a dismissal, Sephiroth spoke up, "I would like to head this search."

"Of course you would," The President said, unruffled by this request. "And you will. I trust you more than my son's lackeys anyways. You're in command, General. Assemble whatever teams you want."

Sephiroth nodded, noting with a quick glance the expression of pure, unadulterated hatred that passed over Rufus' face at his father's blunt barb and simultaneously the way Tseng's expression never altered from its calm and unperturbed mask. Without another word the President stood, and as one the rest of them rose as well to disperse, heading back to their respective offices or duties. Hojo remained behind to speak with the President; Sephiroth contemplated lingering to eavesdrop, to discover just what the doctor wanted his would be assassin for, although he had a suspicion; instead he headed for the elevator, for his next destination would be the SOLDIER barracks. He was taking nothing but the best of officers along on this excursion.

.x.

The Ancient ones spoke to her as she drifted, quiet voices murmuring, reassuring, letting her know that she would recover, that the pain would soon pass. Aware only of existing, their words flowed over her, soothing, and for once she could not resent them. For a time even their presence left her, and she became alone as she ever was in the grips of a powerful healing slumber.

Long hours she spent thus, awaking only to lapse again into sleep unavoidable. Sometimes there were other people in the room; she recognized Tseng, Rude and even Rufus upon one occasion. Their voices made no sense to her—garbled echoes and noises she couldn't comprehend. At times water would be forced passed her lips, and she would swallow it numbly, gladly. The sensation of hands on her body would partially rouse her at other intervals, but she knew they were merely inspecting the extent of the damage to her body, and so she would slip away again, knowing she was secure. When finally she became fully awake, able to blink and focus on the wood paneled ceiling above her without her vision blurring and feeling the weariness that had rode her for so long fade somewhat, the first thing she wondered was how much time had passed. She must have voiced her question, for an answer came unexpected from the right of where she lay. "Two days."

She turned her head carefully, feeling the reluctance of her muscles to move but little in the way of pain. Tseng was seated in an armchair on the other side of the small suite, one leg draped carelessly across the other and hands clasped across his chest. He smiled as he met her eyes. "How do you feel?"

She took a moment to consider, stretching her entire body slightly, slowly, to try and pinpoint the small aches and stings that still remained. "Not bad, considering," she replied in a voice slightly hoarse.

"Good." The leader of the Turks stood then, walking a line to the door and then pacing back. "You realize you've set a new standard for yourself—falling from some thirty floors and surviving."

"I don't recommend trying it," she replied, easing up into a sitting position and marveling at how little she hurt.

Tseng had leaned back against an iron barred window sill and was watching her now intently. "You ran an amazing fever for a day and a half. Your skin was so hot it hurt to touch. The bones in your lower leg were fractured and all of your ribs broken, but you are now almost completely healed. Would you mind telling me how you do it?"

She smiled a little at that and answered honestly, "I don't really know."

"I figured as much." He pushed away from the window and moved to the small table that stood in the kitchen area of the suite, indicating the two folders which were stacked one upon the other. "We couldn't find all the missing papers, but most we retrieved. I do hope these prove informative to you."

Silent for a moment, recalling the last events before she'd fallen, she asked, "Who is Vincent Valentine?"

"Ah," Tseng said, and remained quiet for a time after that, staring down at the folders as if considering the best way to answer. "He is—was—my predecessor, of sorts."

"He was a Turk?"

"Yes and no. From what I've been able to gather, he was the first of Hojo's genetic experimentations. For a short while he served Rufus as we do."

"And then?" Aeris prompted as he paused, lost in thought.

"It's a complicated story, and I imagine his file will tell you everything you wish to know. Which brings me to the reason I'm here. If you wish to truly know what's been done to Sephiroth, Rufus suggests you seek out Mr. Valentine in person and question him."

"Why?"

"Again, it's a long and complicated story, suffice to say that aside from being my predecessor, Mr. Valentine also precedes the General himself—in a manner."

"And where can I find him?"

"You've already been there," Tseng said, moving to stand before the door. "Rufus has agreed to aid you during your search for information; two blocks north of here you'll find transportation waiting for you; a black four door car with triple 4 in the license plate. These," he said, tossing something which jingled in her direction, "are the keys. Get out of the city, take the ferry across the river, and get yourself to Nibelheim. Revisit the mansion, and this time do a careful search of the basement. He's down there somewhere, or at least that's his last known location."

"In the car," he continued, "you'll find one of our PHS systems; it's a private line, used only by the Turks and Rufus. We'll be keeping in touch with you. Which brings me to armament. There are several things I think you'll like in the cabinet over there," he pointed to a black wall closet in the far wall, "I had them brought in yesterday. If there's anything else you need, I'm sure you know of places where they can be found."

Absorbing all she'd just been told, she said quietly, "Thank you, Tseng."

His smile was small and genuine. "You're welcome. Now if you'll excuse me, duty calls. I'll be in touch."

She nodded at him as he opened the door and slid through, closing it firmly behind him. It was another moment before she stood, testing her body to see how much it would complain and finding herself pleasantly surprised. Although she'd never before been injured to such a great extent, it never ceased to amaze her how well her body could handle damage and how quickly it would heal. A great deal of that, she knew, was attributed to her connection with the Ancient ones, but it was remarkable nonetheless. Although, she thought dryly, wincing as she extended her arm and felt a sharp ache in her shoulder, she wouldn't be taking long falls from high windows any time in the near future merely to discern how much damage she could take.

The voices were back again, their quiet words and sounds serving to soothe rather than irritate. She felt newly resolved now that she knew she had Rufus' full support in this endeavor, and it was with grim determination that she set strode to the cabinet to arm herself once more.

There was more than one way to bring down a giant, after all.