He wakes up two days later on a metal slab in a place he's never seen before. It's a laboratory, but it's dark and filled with equipment that shines in half-shadow with violent potential. As his consciousness emerges, he feels a touch on the back of his neck. A hand, but it's not violent or eager. The touch is loving, gentle. Motherly. When it lets him go, he feels cold and numb everywhere except his left arm, which is held immobile and plugged with needles from a large boxy device. Blackish liquid is being fed into him, burning as it crawls under his skin. He feels nauseous.

"...eighth transfusion trial," Professor Hojo is speaking nearby into a handheld recorder, facing away from Cloud. "The first since the original transfusion. Newly harvested cells are stable. No sign of degradation from the donor. Subject has accepted the additional material."

The recorder clicks off. The professor chuckles to himself.

Cloud stirs. He can't bear the heat itching up his arm anymore.

"Ah, awake are we?" Hojo snaps in mild annoyance and walks to the machine, examining levels of the fluid within.

"What is that?" Cloud asks groggily.

Hojo tinkers with the machine then shuts it down. Cloud's blood backs into the tubing, and the professor allows a vial or two to fill before disconnecting the needles. Cloud relaxes as the numbness recedes, but a hot line of pain sprouts along his ribs and shoulders, vying for attention. There's a webwork of scarring around his torso and shoulder. The damage from the shrapnel had been healed while he was out.

"You report to me until further notice," Hojo says. "The Turks delivered a specimen that I've been looking forward to studying for quite some time. It's in the holding cells of the inner lab."

Cloud sits up, rubbing the bruised area of his arm where the machine had been attached.

"What?" he replies to Hojo. His thoughts had been on Tifa.

"You destroyed Heidegger's prototype," Hojo explains. "True, you did so with two fistfuls of shrapnel shredding apart your insides, but Heidegger is a simple man with no ability to recognize scientific greatness even when it's smacking him in the face."

Cloud does not know what to say to this.

"So," Hojo continues with a huff. "Until Heidegger realizes the brilliance of my achievement here, you are confined to the tower. Off field duty."

"Oh." Cloud was expecting much worse. A dishonorable discharge at best. Being thrown in the brig with the terrorists and executed at worst.

"The inner lab." Hojo hands Cloud a white keycard. "The new specimen requires monitoring. It is very precious to me, and I want you to ensure its safety."

It's such a mundane request, he can't believe this is his punishment.

"For how long?" Cloud asks, taking the keycard.

"For as long as I say. Starting now."

Cloud stands, and a dizzy spell holds him. There's a faint whispering like a thousand voices tumbling around in his head. Then it's gone.

"S-sure," he replies. Showing weakness is exactly not how he wants to start his reputation recovery. Heidegger already hates him. He doesn't want Hojo doubting him, too.

But he has to see Tifa. He needs to know how she survived, talk to her about the fire, the Reactor. Maybe she can corroborate the events.

Cloud exits the lab. He's in an area of the underground science division that he's not familiar with, and it takes him a few turns to find the brightly lit main laboratories. Hojo's assistants are busy within the glass-walled chambers, wrapped in protective gear and handling tubes with thick gloves. The pungent scent of sterilizing chemicals coats the back of his throat.

He heads straight up to the holding cells in the public safety division, which are restricted by high-level security clearance. Cloud punches in his codes, but they've been revoked. Of course. Heidegger wouldn't want him anywhere near the prisoners.

Then he tries his new science division keycard, and the door clicks open. The oversight, no doubt, of two bureaucratically warring departments.

There are no human guards here. Everything is automated and robotic. Within the entry is a grim hallway of mounted turrets. The guns recognize him as a Shinra employee and remain inactive. Further down is a sealed door and beyond are the holding cells. Cameras record from stationary positions in corners, and he shuts those off from a security terminal. Records show that the terrorists are scheduled for public termination pending interrogation and marketing logistics sign-off.

He takes a deep breath. What will he even say to her?

The feeds go dark, and he enters the holding area.

The cells are secured with thick mythril bars, separated into singular units along one wall. The first cell is occupied by the woman from Reactor One. She sees him but says nothing. The next two cells hold the men he'd subdued in Reactor Five. One holds his head in his hands. The other's face is black-and-blue. They glare at him.

Then he passes by the leader, Barret.

"Whatchu doin' back here, SOLDIER boy?" Barret growls. "Ain't you caused us enough trouble already?"

Cloud does not acknowledge him and proceeds to the final cell.

Tifa sits quietly on the hard metal cot, hands folded in her lap. She looks like she's cold. Recessed lighting throws her features in shadow. His presence startles her at first. She stands and retreats from the bars, then relaxes once she realizes it's him.

"Oh. Cloud…" She breathes out his name. "I thought…"

"Tifa." That's as far as he can get because he's spellbound by the multitude of questions in his brain.

Barret leans against the bars of his cell with arms dangling out. Cloud notices the gun-arm has been dismantled, just stubby harmless metal now. He's watching Cloud.

"You're okay," Tifa says with a smile. "I saw all that blood before. You were drenched."

"I'm sorry," Cloud blurts out. "I would never have let Shinra bring you in."

A strong sense of kinship pulls him to her from their shared origin. Everyone else in their town is dead, the past erased. He wants to protect her, the only thread leading through the uncertainty of his memories.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he confesses.

"Seven years is a long time," she agrees.

Static interrupts his thoughts for a second. Hadn't it only been five?

"And you're working for Shinra now, just like you wanted," she continues.

He pushes away the misfire.

"And what are you doing working with terrorists?" he whispers, moving closer to the bars. He wishes he could talk to her without Barret overhearing. "I can't believe you were trying to blow up a Mako Reactor!"

She crosses her arms in defiance.

"Shinra are the terrorists, not us," she says. "Mako energy is the problem, and all we were trying to do is disable the Reactor, not harm anyone!"

It isn't the time to argue principles. He wants to ask her about Nibelheim, but he can sense the others listening in. He'll have time to ask her later, he hopes.

"How can you even work for a company like Shinra?" she asks. "Especially with everything they've done in recent years."

The void of time between their experiences is glaring and obvious. He has no idea what Shinra's been doing since the General was killed. But none of that matters.

"Look," he says, "I can get you out of here. My keycard still works, but I'm not sure for how much longer. Tonight I'll come back and sneak you out of the building."

"What are they planning to do with us?"

His chest constricts. "Public execution," he whispers. "All of you."

The gravity of the situation staggers her. She clasps the bars with one hand. He wants to touch her, to comfort her.

"My gods…" Her voice is small and lost in thought. "Is there nothing Shinra wouldn't sink to…?" Then her gaze snaps to Cloud. "You can get us out of here. You can help us."

But rescuing everyone isn't what he had in mind. He is here to help her, not the others. One missing detainee could be explained, even written-off, if the execs were satisfied with all others being put to death.

He shakes his head. "No, just you. Too risky with the others."

Her attitude abruptly shifts. "Then the answer is no."

"No?"

"That's right. You need to help all of us if you're going to help me."

He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a breath, assessing how the hell he could make that work.

"No. No, I can't. Just you."

"Do you really plan to stay here, with Shinra? After what they did to you at the Five Reactor?"

She makes it sound like the answer is clear. But this is his whole life here. He'd been saved from a deathless coma thanks to Shinra tech. If he abandoned it now, wouldn't that be a betrayal?

"They almost killed you up there with that… that metal contraption!" she says.

"I chose to fight it, to help you." But he feels foolish defending Shinra when he knows she is right.

"So choose to help us. Please!"

He considers it. He wants more than anything for her to survive. Yet he can't logistically conceive how he would break the whole group out of their cells. Even if he decides to mutiny, he wouldn't get very far with a troupe following him. It could very well lead to all of their deaths.

"No promises," he says. "I'll be back tonight. I have to go."

The disabled cameras will switch to redundant power soon, and he can't be seen in here.

"Wait," she calls as he turns away.

He pauses.

"Do you remember our promise?"

He didn't, until she spoke those words. Then a brilliant memory comes to life. Everything before the Nibel Reactor is shrouded and unclear, a side effect of Mako poisoning he was told. He recalls some hazy time at the academy, his rank as an MP. He has dim bits of his childhood, of Tifa and his mother, but otherwise the rest is a large blank canvas. The day of the fire is the only solid piece, burned into him, though fragmented. The scattered pieces are there, just not in any good order. Glimpses and emotions.

Only now that she mentions this promise, it comes to him clear through the fog.

He's atop the central water tower, the well, in Nibelheim, the night before he left town to join the Shinra military academy. He'd asked Tifa to meet him there. They were never close as kids, but he harbored secretive feelings for her and he wanted to say goodbye. One last moment with her. He wanted her to know that he was going to make something of his life. He wouldn't always be a meaningless blip on her radar.

He didn't think she would show. He remembers waiting beneath the stars, swinging his legs over the ledge of the platform surrounding the water tower. There was a warm breeze that night. He feels it now over his skin. A tingle.

She did show up. He could hardly contain his heartbeat.

"Of course I do," he responds, but he doesn't make eye contact. He doesn't want her to see that he's still that silly boy wishing for her approval. He can't believe he's forgotten about this memory until now. It feels so important and permanent.

"If I'm ever in a bind, you'll come save me," she says. "That's what we promised."

He can feel the other terrorists in their cells listening close. He knows she's manipulating him, but he doesn't mind. He likes that she's remembered that moment. It means he made a lasting impression. His cheeks flush.

"And now you're that SOLDIER you wanted to be, and now you're in a position to rescue me."

"Yes…" He feels her winning. It's almost cruel the way she's tangled his emotions, forcing him into her will.

"If you want to keep that promise, then you'll need to save my friends, too."

He gives her one final look, saying more than he intends without words, and then he leaves. The cameras will be on soon. As he walks past Barret, he hears a chuckle and brushes it off.

It's not until he's past the security turrets that he lets out a long lonesome sigh. He flips on the camera feeds so they don't ping auxiliary power, and then he heads out the main doors.

Just as he's leaving Rude walks in, sunglasses folded in his suit jacket pocket. He scowls at Cloud. Turks don't normally care about prisoners. As far as Cloud knew, they were field operatives specializing in espionage and kidnapping. He rarely saw any of them in the Tower aside from training.

Rude shoves past Cloud, jutting into his shoulder hard. "Traitor."

Cloud bristles. "What did you call me?"

Rude doesn't reply. His expression is flat and impossible to decode. He vanishes into the holding cells beyond, leaving Cloud to wonder what exactly the Turk was sent here to do.

But he can't linger. Tonight he'll return and shut off all the security, including the gun turrets, and get Tifa to safety, dealing with whatever consequences may come. And if she won't leave without her friends, well, he might just force her. The two of them could sneak through the utility corridors to one of the maintenance shafts and be outside within an hour.

For now, though, it's best he reports to the inner labs. The less time he's away from his post, the better. The assignment from Hojo sounds banal, but maybe it will take his mind off that promise for a while longer. Enough to get him through this day.