Notes: Kudos to anyone who recognizes where the inspiration for Androssy's company logo came from!

Percentage of New Content: 25

Chapter Five

Zack was getting worse.

That was what the doctors had told him as soon as he had gotten back. Somehow he was still struggling for life, but it looked to be a futile battle. His body was simply giving out, and there was no way to turn the tides. The scientists had not been able to learn enough about the poison to construct their own antidote, and they were doubtful that they could do so while Zack was yet alive.

Sephiroth steeled himself for what he would see as he pushed open the door to his friend's room. He had seen so many SOLDIERs dying through the years. It was always difficult, but he could manage to push aside his sickened feelings when it was anyone else.

The sight of Zack laying so still and cold was not something he could shove into his heart and seal there. He gripped the doorknob, his hand vaguely shaking. Zack looked near-death right now. How could he just stay here, waiting for the poison to overwhelm his friend? How could he leave, when there was nothing he could do?

Somehow, almost against his will, his body moved forward, his legs carrying him to the bedside. "Zack . . ." He reached out, laying his hand on the sleeve of the dark purple robe Zack was wearing. He could feel the wires underneath, the ones that were protruding from Zack's arm. His eyes narrowed as he pulled his hand away. He should not do anything that might disturb them. And it felt uncomfortable, to realize that they were there and why they were there.

Zack did not react to the touch. Most likely, he did not feel a thing.

More than anything, Sephiroth wanted Zack to wake up, to smile . . . even to tease him. . . . Just to know he would be fine. . . .

What if he never did wake up? What if he slipped away, all because of this poison? What if he could have been saved, if Sephiroth only knew how to go about it? If he died, would it be because Sephiroth had not tried hard enough?

"I know you'll keep fighting," he said at last. "You'll battle for life until your body can't take it any more. Maybe even beyond that."

By now he only had approximately three hours. And that was just a rough estimate. It could be more, but what was more likely was that it was less.

Without Zack, his life would be bleak. He would return to the way he had been when Zack had decided to befriend him, aloof and alone. And he would be far less willing to let anyone in. He had lost Genesis and Angeal to betrayal. To lose Zack to death would be heartwrenching, maybe even moreso now because of what he had already suffered. No one could take Zack's place, or even begin to try filling it.

Zack meant everything to him.

And Zack wanted to stay just as much as Sephiroth wanted him to. If that would be taken away from them . . .

"Sir?"

He looked up. A doctor and a nurse had come in, both looking somber.

"Would you wait outside for a few moments?" the physician asked. "We need to try a few more things."

Ordinarily Sephiroth might have objected. But he could not stand to watch Zack in that condition. And maybe, if he was outside and away from all of this, he could clear his mind enough to come up with a solution. It was unlikely, when he had tried and tried, wracking his brain until he was nearly going mad. But he had to keep trying. Zack was not giving up. And Sephiroth would not, either.

He walked out of the room, casting a last glance over his shoulder. Zack's position had not altered one bit.

What if this was the last time he would see Zack alive?

No, he would not accept such thoughts!

Soon he was outside, the cold night air slapping against his face. He did not know where he would go. But he started walking anyway, his long hair flowing behind him.

This was an impossible case. He had called the SOLDIERs in Pulheim to take care of the body and confiscate the weapons. And they had not found any leads, either. The crates the guns had been stored within were blank. There was not an indication of where they had come from or who had made them. And of course, the serial numbers on the weapons had all been scratched away. For now, all that they could do was to wait and see if anyone else would try to come to the storage unit, either to get some of the guns or to look for the man who had committed suicide.

Something else that would take time.

Time! Why was there never enough of it? When it was needed so gravely was when it slipped away all the more.

And speaking of miracles, where was God in all of this? If there was a God at all.

He looked up, frowning at his surroundings. Somehow he had walked off the base to end up in the slums of the city. Not the greatest place to be so late at night-though he did not harbor any concern for his safety. He would be fine. But this was not the place where he needed to be right now. There were not any answers to be found here.

Now he was passing what looked like an old church. One of the doors was partially open, but there was not any light coming from inside. It had long ago been abandoned.

Something drew him over-idle curiosity, perhaps?-and he pushed the door open further. The moonlight accepted the invitation and traveled through the space, revealing the pews that were still in place and the stained glass windows above them. On a spot where the wooden floor had either rotted away or had been removed, white and yellow flowers were blooming.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow as he slipped inside the building. How were flowers able to grow here? They were rarely seen in the wasteland of Midgar at all. Someone must tend them. Not that it mattered.

His footsteps echoed off the once-grand walls as he advanced further into the empty meetingplace. If he could only remember something, anything, that would be a clue as to where those men had come from or who they might know, then he would have a place to start looking for the antidote. It was so maddening! He did not have time to search probable dead ends, but he could not sit idly by and wait for the scientists to come up with something.

If there was only something he could make sense of. . . .

What god was this church for, anyway? There were many religions on Gaia, and many different deities. He smirked slightly to himself. Maybe none of them really existed. Or maybe they all did. Maybe he would now be struck down by lightning by the angry god whose house of worship this had once been.

He stopped near a pillar, sighing to himself. Could there be a worse feeling than utter helplessness, knowing that nothing can be done to prevent your best friend's death?

"If there is a God, why can't You save Zack? He's done nothing to deserve this!"

He narrowed his eyes. Had he actually spoken aloud? Oh well. No one would hear him, except maybe the God.

Another thing he had sometimes heard was that the gods would help those who helped themselves. Being a very independent person, that was an idea that pleased him greatly. He had always been disgusted by those who sat back and waited for their deity to do everything for them, without even trying to do any work themselves. He would be willing to do anything now to save Zack, if he only knew what was needed . . . !

"I've done all that I know how to do," he continued, his voice filling with anguish and desperation, as well as anger. "I don't know where else to look to find the solution! Zack will die unless I can be led to something, or unless he is miraculously healed."

Again the fight played out in his mind. The man whom he had battled had been very smug and self-assured all along the way, as if he had known that they would gain victory in the end.

"The Brotherhood will be pleased."

Brotherhood? Was that something the man had said? Surely he would have remembered it, had it been spoken during the battle. There was not much that ever escaped his attention.

It had not been said during the fight. He recalled that much. But the words were disembodied, floating through his mind without a face or a location attached to them. Actually, it did not seem as though they had been spoken during the hostage crisis at all. But then . . . when . . . ?

Wait. It had been on the train. When he had hung up the phone after calling Shinra, a passenger had been standing near him, speaking to someone on his cellular phone. And that person had been closely watching Sephiroth and Zack until they had departed the train with the medical team. That had seemed strange, but Sephiroth had offhandedly assumed that the person had only been interested because it was something out of the ordinary to have happen on a train.

Had he gotten off the train too?

Now that Sephiroth was thinking of it, he had been wearing a cream-colored suit and a matching hat. Maybe he was a businessman of some kind, or an investigator, and maybe he belonged to this "Brotherhood." There were several anti-Shinra organizations in existence, and they attracted people from all walks of life. Businessmen were usually fairly content with the corporation, but every now and then there was one who wanted to overthrow them in order to take over himself.

He had gotten off the train. He had brushed past the medics, without so much as an "Excuse me." At the time, Sephiroth had been annoyed, but had not paid him much attention.

And there was that odd symbol on his briefcase, too. Was that his company's logo, if he was involved with a business? It certainly was odd, now that Sephiroth thought of it again. A globe clutched in a veined hand almost indicated a goal of world domination. And that was surely not something they would want to openly advertise, if they were against Shinra. But it was one of his only clues.

It was a long shot, and might not result in anything but a dead end, but on the other hand, it could be the break for which he had been searching. He should return to the base and see if he could find any information on either the man, that symbol, or the Brotherhood. And he would have to hurry.

He turned to go, then hesitated. He had only remembered the comment here in the church, after his plea for Zack to be helped. Was that merely a coincidence or . . . ? He would see whether it led him to any answers before he reached a conclusion.

Quickly he strode to the door, seeing that it had creaked shut. Pushing it open once more, he prepared to head outside.

"Can I help you with anything?"

What was that?! Someone was here after all? His eyes narrowed as he whirled around to face a young woman with light brown hair pulled into a braid. She was regarding him with an expression that was both curious and concerned, as if she knew something was wrong without knowing exactly what it happened to be.

He grunted. "No, I don't think so. Not unless you know what the Brotherhood is." It was not the sort of thing that he would normally ask a complete stranger. But nothing about this situation was normal. This girl appearing suddenly, and being in the church at all at such a late hour, was odd. Or maybe he felt that way largely because of his current desperate mindset.

She blinked, looking thoughtful for a moment. "No," she said then. "I haven't heard of it."

"I didn't think so." He started to turn to leave. "It's unusual to find someone in an abandoned church, especially at this time of night."

"I was tending my flowers earlier," she said, "and I must have fallen asleep on one of the pews."

"I see."

". . . I hope Zack will be alright."

He frowned again, pausing to look at her-his expression clearly displaying his confusion. Zack? How would she know . . . ?

"Oh, you asked God to save Zack," she explained. "I heard you as I was waking up. . . ."

"Then I'll soon find out if He will." Now he did turn, walking swiftly through the doorway and stepping into the night air. Behind him, he could feel the young woman's eyes watching.

He did not recall ever going through records so fast. One after another zipped past on his computer screen, as he watched them with narrowed eyes. There were various organizations with the word "Brotherhood" in their names, and nothing immediately leaped out as sounding anti-Shinra, though he did file away a couple in his mind as sounding suspicious.

Nothing such as the strange logo was turning up, either. All of his searches for such an image were proving fruitless.

When it came to the businesses in and around Midgar, he checked through photos of press conferences and the like, in search of anyone resembling the man on the train. Maybe that person did not even have a company here. Maybe he had come from somewhere else to meet with one of the Midgar businesses. Or maybe he was not a tycoon at all.

Sephiroth glared at the screen. This seemed like a wild goose chase. Already he had been looking for nearly an hour. And judging by how things had been at the infirmary when he had gone back, there was even less time remaining than he had been thinking.

"He's getting worse. He never has awakened, and his pulse is still going much too fast. If we can't somehow bring it down and at least delay the spread of the poison, he'll be dead in another two hours."

And now it was half that amount of time. He needed to be leaving right now, going to find that man. Maybe it would all be for naught, anyway. Maybe the incident was unrelated. Maybe even if it was not, the person would not have any knowledge of the poison's antidote. Maybe . . . maybe . . .

There! That was him; the cold stare he was giving the camera could not be mistaken. Apparently he hated being photographed, even at official events. And there, behind him, was the symbol!

Green eyes darted down to examine the caption under the picture. He was the vice-president of Gaia Electronics, a smaller company that was beginning to grow in power. The building was right in the heart of Midgar. If Sephiroth hurried, he could make it there-but what were the odds that he would find the other there, working late? He would have to try. And if that failed, then he would have to look for a residence.

All in less than an hour. He had to allow for time to get back and to administer the antidote. If there was one. He was getting ahead of himself.

Now he stood and walked to the door, swiftly leaving his office and computer behind.