12: The Seasons of Nibelheim

-----

Rufus grimaced, grinding his cane into the dirt and stone and letting the ache in his leg sway him forward. Nibelheim was the last place he'd be caught dead visiting. He knew just as well as anyone this godforsaken town was best left to the eggheads of Shinra's bygone days, and now, not even them. This town wasn't fit for anything anymore than acting as the reminder of a terrible past. The former president snorted and rolled his eyes. Why did he even accept this man's proposition? His days of looking for the Promised Land and building a Neo-Midgar were long over. He now wanted peace and quiet with his friends and subordinates, to start over with a new business, in a new place, under a new name. Start afresh.

But...

It was curiosity.

He let it get the better of him.

The Junon incident grabbed his interest.

"Like old times, eh Boss?" Reno snickered.

"Unfortunately," Rufus sneered. "Nibelheim, fall of discontent. If only people knew, would they despise you as much as they did Midgar?"

"We should check out how the guys are doing at Shinra Mansion," Elena said. "Don't you want to see, Boss?"

"As long as I know they're doing their job, no, I don't."

Tseng had stood silent behind the rest of the group until decidedly directing them to the nearby inn. He lent an obligatory arm to Rufus, and together, they entered the establishment. The lobby was remarkably calm, except for men chattering at the counter and a boy sitting on the floor reading a book aloud. At the sight of the Turks, they fell into a distant hush.

"Well, hey, I know who you are!" said the man behind the counter, grinning mysteriously. "Lil' Prez."

"I'm not that 'Lil' Prez' anymore," Rufus laughed. "He died with Meteorfall."

"Huh?"

"There's some lab coats staying here," Tseng pressed with a cold gentleness.

"Them? Oh, them fools is upstairs, runnin' up my electrical bill. I got half a mind to-"

"Thank you." Tseng nodded politely and ushered Rufus and the gang up the stairs. Just as soon as they ascended, they were met with a pacing young man, notepad in hand, rehearsing nothing in particular to himself. He looked up at the newcomers through his goggle-glasses and flashed something invisible their way.

"Rufus Shinra," he began, "former president of the now disbanded Shinra Electric Power Company, employer of the Turks, mystery benefactor to the World Regenesis Organization, thought to have perished in Weapon's attack on Midgar during Meteorfall circa Era Eight, but merely suffered head trauma and shrapnel to the right leg, resulting in the tearing of key ligaments and-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, buddy, we're not here to confirm your background check on our boss," Reno interrupted. "Freak."

"Well, I'm impressed," Elena added under her breath.

"How did you…" Rufus chuckled, though bewildered by the man's being well-informed. "Where is Saristis Noah?"

"Next floor, sir."

"Mm." The Turks continued up the next flight of stairs to the inn's third and final floor. Noises of office-like busybodying abounded, followed by the laughing of one and the tittering of another. The babbling lab coat from below winged past the group into the room to join the revelry. The men and woman quickly fell in line behind him, spying his colleagues huddled around a desktop computer on a roll-away table. Their heads jerked to one side at the sudden presence of the sharply dressed Turks.

"Ah, Mr. President, I'm so glad you could make it," said the red-haired scientist sitting at the helm of the machine. He motioned them to come nearer.

Rufus beamed. "I appreciate the formality but Rufus will do. For now."

"I've never known the Shinras to be so modest, least of all you," he replied with a smile. "You were just as shrewd and ruthless as your father in the company's heydays. If not... more."

"That was then."

"Of course." Saristis nodded, saying next with reserve, "Time changes all things, doesn't it…"

"So you wanted to see me in person?" Rufus asked, staking his cane sharply between his loafered feet. The metal stick had been carved in the likeness of his beloved shotgun; maybe it even was his firearm itself. Something dangerous made to appear relatively harmless, or harmless to appear relatively dangerous. The ambivalence in its design was distressing to an uninformed eye.

"Your precious Turks. Your wealth of Shinra secrets that we hope you haven't discarded." The scientist stood, sidestepping the woman next to him, and approached Rufus and his posse. His bespectacled eyes shifted from one suit to another. Reno, Rude, Tseng, Elena. Back in his apprentice days, there had been more than these select few, but that was when the Turks had been under older and ultimately unreliable management. "I think you already know from our talk on the phone."

"Zombie Sephiroth, right?" Reno said, digging a finger in his ear.

"I... Yes, Zombie Sephiroth. There are reports and sightings regarding his likely existence. Not to mention his accompanying what could possibly be construed as an Ancient, or more. We're very excited but we see the danger that lies just beyond the scope of this road we're traveling." Saristis leaned back against the desk while the woman scientist promptly took up his seat, clacking away at the keyboard with considerable verve. The redhead smirked thoughtfully at the noise, running fingers through his hair, and then he continued, "I know that this draws your attention, otherwise you wouldn't be here and you wouldn't have answered my calls. Birds of a feather flock together, am I right?"

Rufus's brow knitted in vague annoyance, but instead of airing his ire, he heaved a heavy sigh.

"We'll see what you come up with first, then we'll consider further involvement," Rufus replied.

"Not what I wanted to hear, but it's better than nothing, eh?" Saristis nodded amiably and went to shake hands with the other. Reno, Rude, and Tseng were reluctant to part from their boss's fore, allowing them a tense shake.

"Dr. Noah. Now, why do you really need us?" Rufus asked suddenly. "You've managed to build up a nice, little militia of former Shinra forces— oh yes, don't think your little buddy over there is the only one that can get hold of any information he wants— with money you somehow extorted from my old company. So, I think you're well off already. So. What's the deal?"

Saristis stared on as if in shock. That shock then melted away to a lopsided grin in Rufus's direction.

"I-I, well, I was sure it was a few million gil no one would miss..." He coughed and cleared his throat. "The security, really. It behooved me to enlist your aid because of the fact that Sephiroth might have returned. You were there. The entire world was there. He's a force to be reckoned with."

"Why not seek out the ones who actually defeated him?" Rufus returned his grin nastily.

"We did," he admitted. "They're... less than forthcoming. So you're the next best thing. Right?"

"We don't like to brag," Reno sang.

"Sleep on it some more. Just think: A Neo-Midgar may yet be within your grasp. We've already pinpointed an approximate location, and are now conducting reconnaissance. Why would the great Rufus Shinra miss out on this?"

"Hmph."

---

Vincent stood on the inner slope of Shinra Mansion's hill. He saw figures enter town, knowing full well who they were. While he had yet to meet the acquaintances of the snooping scientists, the Turks' arrival was all he truly needed to clinch the fact that there was something amiss in Nibelheim. He scowled despondently, contemplating.

There's no doubt about it, he thought. Not anymore. Drana has to be what they're looking for. But... bringing in the Turks is a bit much. They must be serious. And if they find Drana, Sephiroth will turn desperate. And we may have another Meteorfall on our hands. Well... who knows? But I have to find her and warn her. Now.

Vincent threw his hair over his shoulder and proceeded down the hill with the ease of a bird taking off in flight. He still knew the ways of the Turks, and as an ex-Turk, he employed them for just this sort of situation. Long before now, he'd gathered information, he'd kept tabs. He knew how to find what he wanted. The keys were in his pocket. A bike waited outside town. This was his chance.

---

The house was mostly silent.

The monsters that fed and feared had gone, one way or another.

Sephiroth was still nowhere to be found.

I was alone. Yet I slept soundly, like Aerith told me to.

But then I heard noises, the noises of machines, or rather a single machine. Whines, revs, and whirs, not necessarily in that order. It roused me from sleep, straight into a body that felt different now; with something extra added in and taken out, yet back to normal in a way that I could sit up and wonder what wanted to intrude next like a person should. I stifled a yawn with clenched teeth— teeth, so handy but dangerous all at once—and scratched away the materia that clung to my hair and shoulder, that crusted over and irritated my eyes. A knock sounded at the door. I knew it wasn't Sephiroth. This was his house, dare I even thought, our house. He had no need to knock.

This was someone else.

I made no move to answer. I sat and stared, waiting for time to catch up to me. How long had I been asleep? I wondered.

Creak.

Slam.

Whoever came calling was inside the house now. The muffled sound of footfalls labored to reach my ears.

"Hello?"

I froze. That voice reached me just fine. I knew that voice. Why was he here? He didn't belong. If Sephiroth were here, he would have been furious. Intruder. I felt no malice, no harm, so I wasn't really bothered, but I feared for his safety because he was intruding. He didn't belong here.

"Drana? Are you here? ... Sephiroth?"

He was coming closer. But still, I made no move to answer.

At last, he appeared at the door. Vincent Valentine, dressed in red and black like usual, his ashen face awash with awe. And why not? The bed and I were covered in shards of materia, not to mention I wasn't dressed for visitors, not dressed in the slightest. His face plainly wanted to know what had happened here or what was happening even as we stared at each other. Truthfully, so did I.

"Drana," he said in a halted breath, coming to kneel at my feet. His eyes riveted themselves to my chest for a moment. His face contorted in an effort to hide a sort of blush and, in an instant, he whipped his gaze up into my own eyes. With a grip upon my shoulder that urged a rush of cold to the surface of its recently regrown skin, he asked, "Are you alright? What happened? Where's Sephiroth?"

I said nothing.

He lifted a hand to my brow. "Are you... sick?"

I shook my head, whispering, "... you shouldn't be here."

"I know. Sephiroth would have my head. But this is important," he told me. "There are people after you. You two should disappear someplace. A.S.A.P. They either know what you are or want to know what you are. That will mean capture. That will mean... experiments. Bad ones. I don't want them doing that to you. Or... Sephiroth, despite my feelings towards the man."

"Really?" I frowned, albeit perplexed, at Vincent. "I think he suspects. We ran into someone in town... He called him a follower of somebody named H-Hojo. Then he got sad and angry and-" I stopped; I couldn't incriminate Sephiroth right now, whether I wanted to or not. This man didn't have to know. There was no telling what his reaction would've been. If he went for anguish or anger and did something rash either way.

"Drana. I'm not stupid. You don't have to protect him."

"He, he's still learning. He'll get better, I know it," I said tiredly.

He shook his head. "Women, thinking you can change someone…"

"So you really think I'm a woman? Even though Lucrecia says... I'm a Weapon. Or like a Weapon. A monster..."

"Drana... Lucrecia." Vincent's sympathetic arms enveloped my waist then slipped upwards under my own arms. He held me tight to his chest, too tight. I blinked off into space, dumbfounded; I had never been hugged like this. Arms like Sephiroth's were only ever full of the need to possess, not to comfort or support. Children gave such heartfelt hugs by nature, hugs that wouldn't truly have meaning until they were older.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I asked sleepily.

"I think it's called a hug."

"M-mm-maybe you should go," I slurred out of warning. "There's no telling when-"

"I don't want to go," he insisted. "For years, I've never been able to hold Lucrecia like this. Now, I don't want to let go."

For my good will, I had dug myself a fine hole. Vincent could feel her inside me, bundled up in this shell of skin and walking font of Lifestream. A small pang flashed across the surface; her heart ached for him, too. She surely had a troubling taste in who to love— her motherly love was partway understandable. Yet, this man? There was nothing I could do about that, yet positive I could do something about Vincent's surprising course of action right now. It didn't feel right. Part of me yearned to see him consoled, but the other...

The colors of the world inside this house, this room, began to swim. The dark blue curtains and muted sunlight stretched and streaked down the dark wood of the wall and floor. The burnished browns waved and swelled like hair caught in a breeze. Bronze, gold and silver flecked the lakes and streams of color. White. Red. Was it an illusion? Was my mind wandering? Yes, it was. Yes. Or I was going completely crazy, which couldn't have been far from the truth.

Vincent held me more tenderly now. I was more than a little embarrassed, having no real idea what to do. "I hope this isn't how you tell all people that danger is coming," I remarked.

"I'm sorry. It's just that... Lucrecia, she's..."

"T, time for you to go," I said, trying to rise to my feet. His eyes instantly met with mine in my endeavor to shake free. They looked eerily glazed, as though he were mesmerized in its totality. His embrace grew more intimate by the second, his lips more wanting, and every second my mind was driven to plot ways to make him go away. But I wasn't a clever one. "I'm serious, Mr. Vincent... Y, you have to-"

"Hojo was always in the way," he muttered, on a nigh unstoppable roll of admission. "I could only love her from afar. And then with his damned experiments, she was stolen completely from me. But Drana, you have her. She's you now. You're Lucrecia. And I can show her what I've always felt. With you."

I nearly wished for Sephiroth to come and rip me from this man's grasp. The desperation grew, yet no action came of it. My mind screamed like a tortured and gnashing banshee in a tiny cage.

"Vincent, go away," I whimpered. Guilt-ridden. "S-she may be with me, but she's NOT me…"

His fervent embrace shyly lost all feeling. Lucrecia struggled with me to regain it, pushing my limbs to fly around him but I held back, I held my ground. This was neither the time nor place for needful indulgences in love. Why were people around me not acting like they should? Things were changing and they were so much to endure.

Regret. Regret. That I left Icicle for all this, I felt it cut and burn. My cozy little winterland birdcage. I despised that I couldn't control time, because I wanted to go back, all the way back to Icicle. I could have even gone back to where there might have been nothing at all.

Vincent stepped back and nodded in dubious acceptance, his posture turning thin and weary. I knew what connecting to Lucrecia meant for him— worlds and worlds, I was sure— but I would not be used. Like I allowed Sephiroth to use me. By one person, one man, it was already more than I could suffer. If by two, I might as well have been dead. Part of me relished the idea of pleasing him, comforting him, but like some humans, I was starting to understand the weariness of stretching myself too thin for the good of others. For once, or once in a while, I had to think of myself. I had to staunch the massive desire to bring every single person into my arms, to help them by sheer presence alone. But I didn't. My flowers. Sephiroth. Aerith. Lucrecia. Vincent and all his friends. The Planet, its people. The stars. When I didn't contemplate my own existence, I thought of everyone else.

Halfheartedly, I pointed to the doorway.

"Drana," he announced in the lowest tone, "my warning still stands. Get Sephiroth and get out of here. Before it's too late. I can't let this happen. Not again."

"You say that only because I carry Lucrecia?" I asked, looking down at the floor. "Or do you really care about me as a person?"

Silence. More hurt. I winced but it had to be said. She was what mattered most to him. Not me. I hadn't mattered to anyone. Outside of Icicle. Outside of Sephiroth in his own perverse way. I longed for home. Good old homesickness kept it close to my heart.

"I'm sorry for my behavior," he confessed. "But it's not just Lucrecia. I was an experiment, too. As was she. As was Sephiroth and Cloud and Aerith. A lot of people. All at the hands of Shinra. Drana, you're something, someone, few fantasize in the flesh. They'll want to do the same to you. That... is pain no one should have to suffer. Least of all, you."

"Why do you people do these things?" I queried, turning away. "Your love is strange. Your thirst for power is revolting. Your pursuit of knowledge is... cruel and unusual."

"We can't all be selfless and peaceful like you. Sad to say. Goodbye, Drana. I wish you safety."

-

I dressed myself, save for my feet, and hobbled outside. The air was crisp and fresh. The sky was bright and shining. It felt like afternoon, but without looking to the sun or shadows, or even a clock for help, I wasn't sure. I had yet to figure out how long I'd been asleep.

My garden.

I circled the house to its right side. Immediately, a sense of neglect pinched at my skin. I ran to my flowers, dropping on my hands and knees. By normal human eyes, no blossom would've looked any different than it did perhaps two or three days ago. But by a trained eye, or my eyes, they were bearing the brunt of a few days neglect. Yearning for water, begging for care.

The vegetable patch was in far better condition.

I walked back inside the house for my watering pail. I came back, but just to stand on the porch for a time, thinking. People were coming for me, people who knew what I was, who knew my strength and wanted it just like Sephiroth. Would they do to me what he did to me? What would they do, I kept thinking. What would these experiments be like? Would they really bring pain, like Vincent had warned me about? Experiments were what made him into the poisoned thing he was before that fateful day.

Experiments were what made Sephiroth a creature I couldn't fathom in the past. Only they knew. Cloud and Vincent and Tifa. And Sephiroth.

What would happen to me if I was caught?

Bad things?

I was tempted. I wanted to know, wanted to experience.

But I decided no. I couldn't care for my garden if I was captured. I couldn't do a lot of things if I was captured. If it would be anything like my time with Sephiroth as a hostage, that would be no good at all. I had to get out of here. We had to get out of here. But I didn't want to leave my precious garden. This year and a half past, I worked so hard in my seclusion.

Sephiroth, where are you? I thought.

Static hissed in my mind, followed by a film of black over my eyes. I shook it out of my head before it grew any worse. I took this response to mean he wanted to be alone. I knew he was feeling the guilt pour in and I smiled at that. The human guilt. The humanity that he still tried to ignore. I knew that I should have felt guilt, too, for enduring the abuse and not doing a thing. But my actions were merely the lesser of two evils. He needed an effigy to focus on apart from the masses, while he was still learning to curb his brutal enthusiasm.

Change.

Who really wanted change?

Thusly I stepped down from my pedestal of rumination, to water my flowers.

And I watched a flimsy something soar overhead.