Notes: Thanks to Kaze and Lisa for plot help! Some of the disturbing stuff told to Sephiroth in the last scene was inspired by an amazing and very dark KH fic called There Wasn't. And this fic will now branch into telling two stories: Sephiroth's torment in the present and Zack and Cloud trying to save him, and what happened in the past to the KH Lucrecia and how that affected Sephiroth then.

Chapter Two

Key Blade: The other side

31 Days: Dying by installments

"You are cleared to enter, Ms. Crescent."

The brown-haired young woman looked up in relief as her identification card was passed back to her through the slot in the glass.

"Thank you," she said, managing a smile as she retrieved the card and fumbled to place it back in her wallet.

The middle-aged security guard gave a slight smile as well. "I don't think you have to worry, honey," she said. "Your marks on the application test were the highest of anyone's this year. Dr. Hojo was very impressed."

"Hopefully impressed enough to give me that internship!" said the brunet. She spoke in a bright tone, but her smile was now slightly wry.

"Dr. Hojo only conducts personal interviews when he's seriously considering the applicant for a job on his research team." The guard pressed a button, activating the heavy doors just ahead of them. A well-lit, tiled corridor came into view. "His office is to the right, at the end of the hall. You can't miss it."

"Well, here goes everything." With a little wave, the green-eyed intern-hopeful marched up the path and through the doors. They closed loudly behind her. There was no turning back from here.

Not that she would want to turn back, despite her increasing nervousness. This was her moment, her chance to prove herself.

Ever since she had been a child, Lucrecia Crescent had dreamed of becoming a scientist. Radiant Garden was always in need of new and brilliant minds. Her ultimate goal was to work with Ansem the Wise. But at the moment his research laboratory was not open for internship. And she could not begin right at the top, anyway.

Or so she had thought.

When her parents had learned that one of Ansem's most respected rivals, Dr. Hojo, was accepting applications, they had encouraged Lucrecia to apply. She had been reluctant at first, but then had agreed to try, even though she had been certain it was fruitless. Dr. Hojo's expectations were very lofty, and she had never once imagined that she would emerge his favored choice for an assistant. It was both exciting and daunting.

Here was the office now--a wooden door with frosted glass at the top and lettering that bore the man's name in capital letters. Should she just go in or should she knock? If it opened into an outer office with a secretary, walking in would not be a problem. But if it led directly to Dr. Hojo's inner office, then it would be better to knock.

Well, she wanted to make the best impression. She raised a hand, giving a soft but firm rap.

"Come in," purred a voice from inside.

Lucrecia took a deep breath. Then she hoisted the weighty door open and slipped through it.

The cotton in her throat began to increase. She was standing in a sparsely furnished room, the only decor being the framed degrees on the wall above the no-nonsense desk. Its sole contents were a nameplate in front, a telephone to the left, a lamp to the right, and several file folders in the middle. A dark-haired man in a white coat was standing up and coming around the desk to where she was standing. Dr. Hojo, of course.

"Ah, welcome, Ms. Crescent," he smiled.

She blinked in surprise. "Oh . . . um, you know my name, Doctor?" she stammered. Mentally she kicked herself. She must sound so foolish! That had not come out as she had wanted it to at all.

She attempted to start again. "W-what I meant was, I didn't know you'd seen me before, and . . ."

Dr. Hojo gave an amused smirk. "You are correct, Ms. Crescent," he said. "But yours was the only appointment I scheduled for today." He held out his hand.

She took it, struggling to bite back the nervous giggle that was threatening to burst forth. This was not a time to be silly, even though she would not mean that the way it would sound, either. She had to show him that she was as level-headed and logical as he might have gathered from her application and the test.

"Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me," she said as they shook hands. Thank goodness she had not stuttered this time.

"The pleasure is mine, Ms. Crescent," Dr. Hojo said. "I've read your thesis on the future of science in Radiant Garden and how it should be applied. It was most enlightening. Just what I would expect after your studious application and your high marks on the test.

"Now, I have a few questions for you. But I have little doubt that you will be very worthwhile here. Someday what we are doing will be in the history books. Such an honor you would have, to be a part of that."

"Yes, Doctor," she answered, completely composed now. "Of course what I want most is to better our world."

"Naturally. Isn't that what we all strive towards?"

He turned, walking back to the desk. "Do be seated," he said with an offhand gesture.

Lucrecia nodded, crossing to a chair in front of the desk. "Thank you, Doctor," she said. Sitting down, she placed her purse on her lap. The doctor really sounded as though he had already made up his mind about her. If that was so, what could he want to ask her now? Maybe it was some final test she needed to pass, but which he believed she would.

"How much hands-on experience have you had in experimentation?"

She blinked. What an odd question. "What kind of experimentation, Doctor?" she inquired.

A shrug. "Any kind," Dr. Hojo said, adding, "with live subjects."

She held her position, considering her reply. She had heard something about Dr. Hojo's previous assistant having quit because of not being able to handle the research. Was that why he was asking? Of course he would not want a repeat of something like that. It must have been an immense inconvenience and hindrance.

"We used rats and mice a lot," she reported. "And sometimes rabbits."

"And what do you think of that?" Dr. Hojo laced his fingers. "I hope you don't have any foolish sentimental notions."

Yes, that had to be why he was continuing this line of questioning. Nothing more. She began to relax. What on earth had she thought he meant?

"I don't think of myself as sentimental," she said. "I'd rather the lab animals didn't have to be hurt or killed, but I'm willing to do whatever is necessary."

Dr. Hojo's lips pulled back in a smile. "Yes," he mused, "I think you are. Good. This work is not for the squeamish.

"Well. That was my last concern, Ms. Crescent," he said as he arose. "I expect you to arrive tomorrow at six in the morning, sharp. Tardiness is frowned upon."

She ignored the way his smile had begun to make her stomach twist. And as quickly as the feeling had come, it had fled by his next words. She stood as well, a mixture of amazement and awe sweeping over her. He had accepted her internship. That was what she had longed for and wanted. She had worried that she would have a difficult time finding somewhere to work. Instead her dream was coming true.

"I'll be here, Doctor," she said, proud of herself for not falling back to stammering. "Is there . . . anything I'll need to bring?"

He led her to the door. "If you have your reports on the experiments you've done, I would like to see them," he said.

Again she was surprised. "O-of course," she said, her hand on the knob. "I'll bring them tomorrow." She shifted, embarrassed. "But they're not really much. I mean . . . I'm sure you've conducted far more exciting tests. . . ."

He smirked. "Perhaps. But I would like to see them anyway.

"Good day, Ms. Crescent."

She nodded. "Good day."

Pushing open the door, she stepped out and turned to go back the way she had come a few scant moments earlier. Suddenly everything was different. If he was impressed by her work, she would have a well-paying job for hopefully a good many years. And in that time, there was no telling what exciting scientific discoveries might be made. She would learn from one of Radiant Garden's best scientists.

So why was it that she still had a nagging feeling that something was not right?

Was it because he wanted to see her experiment reports? That was strange, but he had a right to look them over if he felt like it. He likely just wanted to learn all he could about her and her methods. It was nothing to worry about; she was just being paranoid. Her father would tell her the same thing. He and her mother were both so proud of her for coming as far as she had. They would be ecstatic to hear how the appointment had gone.

By the time she reached the end of the corridor and passed through the exit, all such concerns had fled her mind.

His head was throbbing. So were his wings.

And he was laying on something cold and hard. He was on his back. That might account for some of the pain in his wings.

Mostly it was because of the gas that had downed him.

He had known escape was too good to be true. But he had insisted on pursuing it anyway. He had flown from room to room , desperate for a window, for some link to the outside world. And eventually he had been locked inside a particularly spacious chamber. The only way out would have been through the ventilation system, and he never could have gotten through the grate. Then had come the swift and cruel realization that once again there was not any freedom. To add insult to injury, they had turned on some kind of knock-out gas and piped it into the room. He could still smell the wretched fumes in his nostrils. A weak cough rippled from his throat.

Of course he was restrained again. He could feel the manacles binding his wrists and ankles. And there were vague voices talking above him, likely Hojo and Portman. Were they discussing what to do to him next? It was just the sort of topic in which they would delight. It was so frustrating that he could not hear them through the fog over his senses! Was this a lingering effect of the gas? Or had they drugged him? It would be dangerous, to inject him with something shortly after gassing him unconscious.

Not that either of them would care. They would probably be fascinated by the idea of monitoring the effects on him.

What were they doing? Portman had walked across the floor, and it sounded like Hojo was pulling a switch. Some buzzing noise was beginning to reverberate through the room. The slab was vibrating.

And then the snapping, scouring fire was rushing into his veins. He was being electrocuted. His eyes widened as he gritted his teeth, holding back a cry. Hojo had done this to him before, but not this strong. And in the past it had stopped after several seconds.

This time it was not stopping.

Still he did not scream, clenching his fists against the anguish. It had to stop soon. He would fall unconscious if it did not. And if that happened, there was the danger of his heart stopping. Not that it would. He would never give them the satisfaction of knowing they had defeated him in any way. And he would not die and leave his friends behind. He would not!

The power was cut. His torso, which he had arched off the slab in a desperate and pain-filled measure to not conduct even more electricity, dropped back to the hard metal surface. He breathed heavily, staring up at the ceiling high above him without actually seeing it.

Was this only the beginning? Would it continue until Hojo enacted the unspeakable experiments he had alluded to several hours ago? No, that could not happen. He would not be left to suffer such a fate, would he? Wouldn't his superiors prevent such a thing?

Unless he was of no more use to them. What if they had decided that they no longer wanted him to be bound to Cloud? What if they had given up on him? And if they had, did that mean that God had, as well? It was so hard to feel in this place what he had felt when he had been comforted in the snow. But he had to admit, after knowing then that he had not been rejected or abandoned, it was difficult to grasp the thought that maybe this time he had been.

No, that was not true. He would cling to something else as well as to his pride. He would come through this. Either he would escape, or Zack and Cloud would find him. And Hojo and Portman would not be allowed to harm them. That would never be allowed!

The electricity rushed back into his body. This time they had increased the wattage.

His eyes widened in anguish. There was no release.

It was heart-breaking to watch Zack suffer.

Since finding the site where Sephiroth had been dragged away, Zack had ordered another, more thorough search of the castle. The army had taken apart every possible closed tunnel, opened all rooms--both visible and hidden--and had scoured every escape route. There was no indication that anyone had been back since the battle that had ended with Hojo's flight.

Zack had then directed the army to assist in searching in all other possible locations at Hollow Bastion as well. But it was always the same result. There was no sign of Sephiroth or Hojo.

More and more, Zack was slipping into agonized despair. To know Sephiroth was out there, somewhere, as the prisoner of Hojo was too much to handle when he did not know where to go to find his dear friend. He was running out of ideas.

Cloud was too, when he thought about it. He was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of hot chocolate. It was weird. It felt wrong to be drinking something like that when Sephiroth was not with them. Zack had fixed the beverage for all of them many times during the winter. And then they would hang out in the living room while Zack made up silly, cheesy stories.

Zack had only made up hot chocolate now because he had said that he and Cloud needed something to give them strength. "Like that old commercial where the kid drinks it and then can pick up the Christmas tree that fell over," he had said with a weak grin. But his heart had not been in it.

The rattle of dishes sent Cloud looking over his shoulder. Zack had poured the rest of the hot chocolate into a container, sealed it, and placed it in the fridge. Now he was washing the kettle.

Cloud ran his tongue over his lips. "Zack . . ." But he trailed off. There was nothing he knew to say. "Don't do this to yourself" had been used in every possible variation. And what a hypocrite he was; Cloud was torturing himself as well. He could not stand that he was helpless again, while his friends were in misery. He could not help Zack, and he could not help Sephiroth, either.

It was feelings such as that which had led to his anger in the past. He could feel it simmering in his heart right now. But he had to control it. Especially when Zack himself was battling hatred.

". . . What now?" Zack said at last, his voice strained. "We've been all over the city, and out of it, too! Seph's nowhere around."

Cloud frowned, staring into the mug. "I guess we could check on the other part of the world," he said at last. "You know . . . where those outcasts live who say they've fallen into ruin. I mean . . . I know it's not like Hojo would go there, but who knows. Maybe someone's seen him."

Zack froze. "You know, I sent some of the army down there while we finished looking up here," he said, "but we should head down ourselves. What if Iezon knows something?!" He turned off the water, setting the kettle on the counter as he whirled to face Cloud. For the first time in several days, his eyes were alight with excitement and hope.

Cloud's own eyes widened. "You mean because of who he really is?"

Zack gave an enthusiastic nod. "Maybe he'd know where mad scientists would hang out or something!" He grabbed up his cane. "Come on, old pal, let's pack up and go on a little road trip!" He limped out of the kitchen, going much faster than he probably should.

Suddenly Cloud's appetite was back. He downed the rest of the now-lukewarm chocolate before standing. He did not like to get his hopes too high, but it was just possible that this was the break they needed.

"Wait up!" he called, chasing after Zack.

It was so surreal, to find a soft mattress underneath his aching form. He did not remember losing consciousness. But he must have, because he certainly did not recall being taken here. The more he awoke, the more comfortable the cot became. He had been laid on his side, the wings hanging over the edge to what felt like a rug on the cold floor. He burrowed against the pillow. He had not been allowed to lay down on something relatively soft since he had been taken. And the scientists would never show him mercy. How had he gotten here?

Green eyes cracked open to take in the blurring scene. There were metal bars ahead of him. He was in one of the small cells at the back of a laboratory. Hojo had mentioned that he kept them for his experiments at times. But certainly the monsters he created would not be granted beds.

"You're awake."

A chill ran down his spine. That was his own voice speaking, albeit more tired and sad. He rose half off the bed, his gaze darting across all in his line of vision. There it was, walking over to the cell--a clone. A very weary and burdened clone. The eyes were sunken, as if sleep always evaded him and he had forced himself to adapt. His lips were drooping in a permanent melancholy expression. And his skin was raw and red. What had happened to him? Would Sephiroth himself look like that before this was over? He gripped a handful of pillow.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I am clone forty-five," was the answer. "I was one of the first clones, and unlike many of my brothers, I survived the attack on the castle in Hollow Bastion. White Coat brought us here."

Sephiroth frowned. "You aren't the one who fought me," he said.

"No, I'm not. And you should lay still. Your injuries were serious. You're still mending."

Sephiroth sank back against the mattress. "You don't look well," he observed.

45 shrugged. "Hojo seems to have abandoned his ideas of overthrowing the government. At any rate, we can't use our powers in here, and he has been experimenting on us."

That should not be a surprise. But Sephiroth felt a wave of indignant anger. Hojo had created so many clones for his use in an army, and now he was deciding that they should be test subjects instead? His cruelty knew no boundaries.

"How did I get here?" Sephiroth asked at last.

"I brought you," 45 said. "I told White Coat that it would be destructive to what was left of your health if you were chained to the wall again. And then he wouldn't be able to use you in as many experiments. It was the only way I could get him to agree."

Sephiroth grunted. Well, he should be grateful for the respite, no matter how brief.

"You said my injuries were serious," he frowned. "How are they being healed?"

45 hesitated. "White Coat is testing the power of hearts for many things," he said, "including healing."

Sephiroth's eyes widened. "What has he done?" he demanded, his voice steady and insistent.

". . . Several of my brothers gave their lives for the experiment," 45 said, a trace of sorrow coming into his voice.

Again the bile began to rise in Sephiroth's throat. ". . . Then they're Heartless now?" he deduced.

45 nodded. "Yes." He paused. "And yet they are not completely mindless. They despise White Coat. They hide in the shadows, biding their time until they repay him for what he has done."

Sephiroth leaned further into the mattress. So he was recovering because of the clones' hearts that had been used in the medicine. And Hojo would not stop with the clones. Hojo would eventually try to do the same to him, just as he had threatened.

And deep in his heart, he could not deny that his outrage was mixing with a twinge of fear.