Writer's Note: This chapter has been almost entirely rewritten as of 12/10/13. I really didn't like what I'd done with it before, so large chunks that did nothing for the plot or character development have been completely cut out, certain character descriptions were changed around a bit, and entire scenes have shifted tone or setting. This doesn't affect the arc of the story or anything really; it was mostly just correcting bad writing and pointless filler.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money from this work. Anything recognizable to the Final Fantasy VII series and its associated parts belongs to Square Enix and affiliated companies.
Green Dreams
Chapter Eighteen: They Don't Make it Easy
Conditioning on Tuesday was vicious. For once though, it wasn't because of the instructors. Monday's drug bust had made Cloud's bunker—all remaining five of them—the pariahs of their cadet group, and the bullying had started not long after they'd returned from interrogation three members down and a lot of others in trouble.
No public announcement had been made yet, but everyone already knew the gist of what happened. Three boys from Cloud's bunker and four from various other bunkers had been implemented in the possession, sale, and use of mako-laced performance-enhancing drugs. All were summarily told to pack their bags and leave before the morning wake-up call.
The boys of Cloud's bunker were hit the hardest and had been blamed for ratting out everyone else. The three other bunkers from their recruitment season, who they shared the barrack's floor with, had all had blood tests done, and more than one boy from the other bunkers had failed those drug tests. But the only ones who had admitted to smuggling and/or selling the drugs were actually kicked out. Users who tested positive got their privileges, like leaving the compound on weekends, taken away indefinitely, guard duty shifts for the remainder of their time as cadets, and had to take a required course every evening for two weeks about the drugs they'd used. It had not ended well for anyone.
Dan turned away from the sneering faces of the boys near the water cooler; reluctantly rationing what water he had in his bottle for the rest of the morning. He didn't want to approach the cooler and risk getting shoved or knocked down or hearing insults. Cloud and Reno were less intimidated, but neither of them went over there either.
The other two members of their bunker, Acker and Neal, loitered nearby, also avoiding the water cooler. They'd both tested positive, but apparently hadn't even known the drugs they were buying were stored a couple feet away from where they slept. Others who had likewise tested positive were also not far away. The rest of the cadets had ostracized them too—no one wanted to be associated with any of them.
"Break's up! Back on the field in lines!" One of the instructors yelled into a megaphone, and the boys dutifully put down the water bottles and jogged out to a stretch of dirt. Dan mournfully left Cloud and Reno, who were nearby each other alphabetically, and went over to the Gs. The boy next to him and behind him both shot him angry looks.
"Durkin was our friend you know," one said panting in between jumping jacks. Dan swallowed hard, hearing the implicit threat.
When they dropped to the ground to do push-ups the cadet behind Dan lurched forward and grabbed his ankles, dragging Dan backwards into the dirt, coughing and spitting around the dust. Both boys laughed cruelly, and Dan set his jaw so he wouldn't make a bigger target of himself if he complained or tried to get back at them. It was hard though, so hard when bore the brunt of the teasing and bullying for the bunker. Everyone seemed to know that he had been one of the ones storing drugs in the bunker, and that he'd spilled the beans on who gave them to him.
He'd tested negative though, and had totally broken down in that interrogation room, admitting that he'd only accepted them because he wanted people to like him—his obvious remorse and clean test was probably the only reason he hadn't left last night. Thankfully no one knew those details; Dan wasn't sure he could overcome of the embarrassment of having it known that he'd nearly wet his pants and started crying two minutes into the interview. He'd ultimately gotten off light, with privileges taken away and guard duty on the graveyard shift, which is perhaps what made him such a target.
Everyone stood up again for quick steps in place, and thankfully no one had the breath to call him names or harass him. The instructors were, thankfully, unbiased when it came to torturing the cadets. When the field steps were complete and everyone lined up for suicide runs, Dan was quick to jog back over to Cloud. He didn't want to admit it, but the blond was something of a shield for Dan. People called him names, pushed and shoved him, and made lewd gestures at Dan, but not at Cloud. Or if they did the blond didn't react at all.
He was sweaty and red-faced like everyone else, though no one could say Cloud hadn't been getting better. Dan had seen him working out the mornings, and he almost never hung around the bunker anymore, always off at the gyms or the track. It was a remarkable change, and one Dan found particularly inspiring.
As Dan had gotten to know Cloud, he'd started to recognize the blond's moods too. While he was never exactly a ball of sunshine, Dan could tell the blond had been brooding since he'd come back from his interview, but what that was he wasn't sharing. Not that Dan really expected that of Cloud. It's not like the blond had ever confided in him before.
Someone muttered, "cock-sucker" just loud enough for the cadets to hear as everyone lined up for a second round of suicides, and Dan saw Reno's fist tighten warningly. The rest of the bunker wasn't as apathetic as Cloud was to all the harassment. There had been a scuffle just last night with Neal and Acker and three other cadets that had thankfully been broken up before anyone of authority saw. The last thing the bunker needed was punishment for unruly behavior on top of the pressure their peers were dealing out—they were already close enough to getting kicked out.
Dan was genuinely afraid of being discharged, and that was part of the reason he'd cried at the questioning—the other was the terrifying Second class SOLDIER who'd been at least twice his size growling questions at him. Dan had grown up hearing stories of one of his neighbor's uncles who had been dishonorably dismissed from the army. Whatever happened to him no one really ever said, but it was the acknowledged belief of the family that he'd ended up a bum on the streets. Juno had a number of misfits of that sort, older men and even some younger ones who came home jobless and almost literally barred from getting another. Dan couldn't imagine the dismay of his family if that had happened to him.
"You're up, Dan," Reno said, giving him a little push to get his mind back on the present. Cloud watched the cadet sprint off, only getting a couple steps in before someone elbowed him hard enough to make him stumble sideways. Reno looked like he was thinking about yelling something but thought better of it.
Cloud didn't have much remorse for the cadets getting bullied, though Dan deserved less than he got. Most kids in the bunker had never suffered this sort of peer cruelty, but the blond had the feeling he'd lived through many days like this: the constant teasing, jeering, and casual violence. Of course, his faulty memory for once was doing him a favor because he couldn't quite remember those incidents, but he was pretty confident he'd hated living though them the first time.
Where Cloud's memory failed him on his own personal history, time he shared with Zack was easier to call up, and a lot more cheerful than whatever else he could remember. He could recall Zack explaining at some point—somewhere cold? Cloud couldn't quite remember—exactly why Shinra was such a popular place to work despite its strange happenings and closed-door depravities. Breaking any links from Shinra was the equivalent of dropping out of the workforce forever. With Shinra's worldwide influence and the main source of jobs anywhere on the planet, people with bad reputations—like those drug-dealing kids—were going to be hard-pressed to find work that had any upward mobility.
It was part of the reason Cid had never gotten much of a job after the failure of the rocket launch. He was blamed for why it didn't go up and, though he never admitted it, had trouble supporting himself afterwards. Being the Captain of the town was wonderful, but living off of Shera's earnings wasn't.
"Heart pounding, boys! Heart pounding!" hollered one of the instructors as they finished up the short runs with a last hard sprint across the fields—last ones to make it had to set up the tires.
Cloud was dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, towel-drying his hair, making it stick up even more than usual. The bathrooms were mostly empty now because the other bunkers had pushed and shoved their way to the front of the line, claiming first shower rights because they hadn't cheated by using drugs. By the time Cloud got his shower the water was cold, but he hadn't minded it. He'd never had hot water for showers at his home outside Midgar. It had seemed too much trouble for a luxury he didn't care about.
"Jeez, if you're shaping your hair just to go to sleep then you've got some serious problems, Cloud," Reno whined from outside the steamy showers.
Cloud had been taking his time partly for the privacy that was so rare here—and he craved the solitude he no longer had—but also because he had the unwelcome task of trying to put off Reno. The drug bust hadn't dimmed the redhead's fervor at all, except it had switched his attention from the Shinra executives to an equally dangerous subject. Cloud had been able to avoid talking about it all day because of classes and bullying, but Reno had been patient and picked his moment.
When the blond finally left the showers Reno was waiting for him, his hair still wet too but in fresh clothes. "Come on, there's a back hallway where we can talk."
Cloud gave a passing thought to simply walking the other way, but it wasn't like he could avoid Reno forever. Not to mention parkour was one of the few new and enjoyable things Cloud had outside Zack. With Zack he had to be cautious, but with parkour he could just let go. He wouldn't give that up unless Reno really drove him to it.
Reno led him through several quiet corridors until he stopped a dead end with only a janitor's closet door. It looked as private as they could make it, short of leaving the building. "Okay, get over here. I let you skive on the execs Cloud, but this one we gotta do." Reno murmured in a low tone so they wouldn't be overheard, his face serious though his eyes were full of mischief. Cloud's skin prickled at the hushed words, already picking up on the cagey vibe of this conversation. If anyone walked by the mouth of the hallway this would look really suspicious.
"You know the Turks, right? Biggest fake department in the whole company?" Cloud nodded along warily, but also with dread. Reno really did play with fire with oiled hands if he wanted anything to do with the Turks. "Well let's say I met one of them thanks to idiot Barker and yesterday's fiasco. And he was a real asshole."
"Just get to the point, Reno," Cloud said flatly. The blond had so far only been humoring Reno's exaggerated attempts at playing spy, but there were at least a dozen warning bells go off in his mind. Cloud hadn't known Reno had been interrogated by the Turks—and what were the Turks doing questioning cadets anyway?
"Sheesh. Okay, okay, Tseng's one of those Turks, and he's got some famous guns. Thing is no one knows anything about them, and they're not ordinary guns. So just out o' curiosity, I want to find out what he's strapped with. What's the big secret, you know?"
Reno looked very casual about this proposed idea, and either he was hiding his real reasons, or he didn't understand the sheer insanity of what he was saying. For Cloud, he already knew what kind of guns Tseng used courtesy of both being shot by them and because Vincent really knew his guns; Cloud even knew what kind of bullets since he'd had to pry them out of his body before. However, he couldn't just tell Reno without bringing a host of other questions down on him. Likewise, breaking into Turk quarters or their office was a mistake you'd only make once because you'd be dead.
"Look, look," Reno said in a placating voice, reading Cloud's incredulous expression correctly. "I know it's kinda crazy, but you don't know what that guy did to me yesterday at the interrogation." The redhead actually did look a little freaked out, and Cloud really didn't want to know what Tseng had done to cause that. "I've heard things under the plate, and I've been listening for awhile now. And hey, if we find something else interesting in his rooms, then bonus, right?"
"No." Cloud was cutting Reno off right now, before he got any deeper into this. There was no way he was getting involved in some half-baked scheme to break into Tseng's quarters. Cloud hadn't liked messing with Tseng even after he'd started working for Neo-Shinra. The man was as quietly deadly as Vincent, but he didn't owe Cloud any loyalty or friendship. He owed Cloud even less now.
Cloud turned around before Reno could make another argument, but the redhead wasn't quite done yet. He grabbed Cloud's elbow, thankfully not surprising the blond or he'd have gotten that same elbow to the face. "Look, I'm not giving up on this just because you're wussin' out. I let the executives slide, but Tseng's a real dick and I can't let that lie. I'm not dropping this," he warned.
"There's no way you won't be caught," Cloud warned.
"He's not all-knowing, and he can't be everywhere. It's just about timing. I'll find out his routine, figure out what kind of security he's got, and we'll find the perfect time. This isn't my first go around you know."
"And so long as you pick insane targets, I'm out," Cloud answered. No matter how much he enjoyed practicing parkour with Reno, there were bigger things at stake. Attracting Tseng's attention was asking for too much.
By Thursday things weren't any better between Reno and Cloud, and that was on top of the flack everyone was still getting from the other bunkers. Cloud continued to act like Reno had never proposed infiltrating Tseng's rooms, wishing Reno would take his cues and drop it, but Reno was clearly stewing. He'd also been in and out of the bunker at night and sleeping during classes, which Cloud knew full well was so he could keep track of Tseng. More than once Reno had invited Cloud along, but there was no way he was getting involved with anything to do with the Turks.
Dan, who didn't want to be on the end of Reno's annoyance like he had in hand-to-hand combat on Wednesday, jumped to be Cloud's sparring partner in swordplay. Dan was an easier opponent than Reno, but considering how hard Reno had pushed Dan the day before Cloud couldn't really blame him. The redhead had been working out his aggression the only way he could, but Dan wasn't fast enough or skilled enough to deal with the unpredictable onslaught, and he'd been kicked in the solar plexus so hard he got the wind knocked out of him. Everyone was just glad he didn't puke, but now the even more embarrassed Dan was avoiding Reno at all costs.
Unfortunately that meant Reno didn't get so lucky with his partner today, and the redhead's swordplay left a lot to be desired. When Reno's partner knocked him flat on his back to humiliate him he was met with jeers and jibes that made his already red face turn darker.
One boy stepped out of line though, Maxwell Winkler as expected. He and Reno had a nasty history as it was, and he'd been pushing Reno all week. "How much you getting paid to get knocked down like that? Or you just used to laying on your back?"
The words had made both Cloud and Dan stop sparring and turn together. Reno had few sensitive topics, but Maxwell had just hit one with a hot poker.
"I don't take favors from anyone." Reno's words were laced with fire and he looked genuinely furious. Cloud knew Reno was ready to do this the way they did in the slums—violence and retribution: eye for an eye.
Cloud stepped closer to the enraged Reno, silently ready to hold him back from beating Maxwell to a pulp. The trouble the bunker would get into wasn't worth it, and short-term gratification didn't do any good in the long-term. There was a distinct difference between sparring and uncontrolled fighting, and Reno was obviously ready to cross that line. Before he could even make his move though, Maxwell was abruptly upended, landing square on his tailbone with a sharp, distinctly un-masculine yell.
Aaron Tamboia, a boy from the bunker at the end of the hall Cloud recognized, planted his foot on Maxwell's chest before he could get up. The mat Maxwell had been standing on had been kicked a couple of feet over, enough to knock the big teen to the steel floor. The downed cadet had a few choice curse words to share, clearly in a lot of pain. Aaron didn't seem to notice.
"If fighting dirty makes you better, then shouldn't we all take advantage of that?" His popped his hip out to the right and planted his hand there in a decidedly feminine stance. He voice was pitched a little higher than a man's, though he didn't have the stereotypical lisp of a homosexual everyone made fun of in the barracks. He looked down disdainfully at Maxwell, flicking a lock of dirty blond hair highlighted with streaks of purple faded to lavender. They were growing out, but no one was quite sure what Aaron had said to avoid dyeing his hair to cover the unnatural color—normally the military didn't allow that, though the cadet program was more lax than regulation army. Cloud was lucky his hair stuck up, because if it laid flat it probably would have been long enough to require cutting in the regular forces.
Maxell glowered at Aaron angrily from the floor, but the cadet just tsked at him before leaning down to twirl a lock of Maxwell's dark hair around his finger. "Greasy. You should really take better care of it. Look at the General's hair. Glorious." Maxwell flinched away.
Aaron was probably the most openly gay man in their recruitment year, and was given quite a bit of personal space for it. Most guys among the cadets felt horribly uncomfortable with someone who had no problem touching them more intimately than general acquaintances. Homosexuality wasn't illegal or generally looked down on, but for most men who joined the military it was a last-option kind of deal, and only for sexual gratification. It made Aaron a bit of an outcast, but he didn't seem to mind.
Aaron was a wiry guy with noticeably big ears and the dyed hair, but was otherwise unremarkable, and he'd never distinguished himself in class. Cloud honestly didn't think he'd ever spoken to him before or heard much about him. The only thing Cloud knew about him was that he was often teased and slurs were thrown around about him, but Aaron had developed his own sort of armor for dealing with it. He took great pleasure from making thug-size men back up from him, and often the best way to do that was to goose them or hit on them, which made many of the guys deeply uncomfortable.
Considering homosexuality, it was perhaps ironic that so many straight men were interested in SOLDIER. There were no female SOLDIERs after all—and not for lack of trying by the Science Department, Cloud knew vaguely—so that didn't leave a lot of choice when it came to working off aggression, especially in the higher ranks where mako levels became a concern. The idea that only weaker or more feminine men were homosexual was also perfectly ridiculous when it was First Class SOLDIERs who were engaged in these relationships. Still, none of that was exactly public information, and it hadn't permeated down to the cadets. Many still harkened to the older belief that more effeminate men who weren't "man" enough to dominate a relationship with a woman, thereby letting another man do it for them. It was why Aaron got such heat and why he made a point of picking on the biggest guys. Knocking them to the ground like he did Maxwell only served to break that image of a homosexual a little more each time.
And now Aaron was exacting a little revenge on the bully. Reno didn't look totally happy that his revenge had been snatched away from him, but Cloud felt better. Aaron didn't seem to be nearly as impulsive as Reno, and if he did get punished it wouldn't be on top of the stigma of the drug charges.
The blond was proven right; there were a couple more digs into the chest by Aaron's boot and a little more gloating over the down boy, and then it was over. Aaron even offered Maxwell a hand up, but it was ignored as Maxwell nursed his bruised pride. Aaron just shrugged before winking provocatively at Reno and walking back to his mat.
The antics of the week didn't end with Maxwell though. Early Friday morning, not long after midnight, Cloud was woken out of a nightmare by Reno, who was definitely far too awake for two a.m. "Come on, come on. I know where Tseng is tonight, so this is our lucky break, but we've got to go now."
He dragged an obstinate Cloud out of bed without shoes or proper clothes, without telling the blond how he knew this or what his plan was. Cloud fought it initially, but part of him was still caught in the nightmare: a memory of being moved from one end of the laboratory facility to another. The sickening rocking sensation as the whole cylinder was carted down corridors tinged in green had been very disorienting to wake from. His stomach still felt a little sick, and everyone else was asleep, so he and Reno made it all the way out of the cadet barracks and halfway to Shinra Headquarters before Cloud really dug his heels in.
He hadn't wanted to make a commotion right in front of three bunker doors, nor had he been properly awake enough to take full stock of the situation, but now he had to really stop this. "I'm not doing this Reno. Tseng is a Turk and you're severely underestimating him."
Reno snapped back at him, looking like he'd been gearing up for this confrontation since Tuesday. "Oh, so you know so much? When have you ever met a Turk? I've run into 'em before, and sure ones like Tseng are better trained, but I'm sure I can get in there."
Cloud summoned up the shreds of his patience that had been severely frayed throughout the week at Reno's bellicose tone. "And if the guns aren't there?"
"I doubt he takes them to a meeting on the first floor at two in the morning. They'll be there. And if they aren't, then we'll just find another time."
Cloud ground his teeth together at Reno's stubbornness. He really loathed people when they were this mulish about something as ridiculous as this. Zack was renowned for this, but at least his plans weren't going to screw them over for the rest of their lives. Zack got away with it on a much smaller level, but Reno, the real daredevil here, could be hurting more than just his ego or pride—if they were caught Reno might still get into the Turks, but Cloud would be forever on their radar, and that's assuming the Turks didn't shoot first at intruders.
He knew the smart thing to do would be to walk away, let Reno make a huge and dangerous mistake and get into trouble with the Turks. After all, he'd become one before, so maybe they'd appreciate his gutsiness. Then again… the look on Reno's face when he mentioned offhand Tseng's interrogation made Cloud pause.
"Look, you going with me or not? I do it alone and I'm way more likely to get caught. Come on, back me up, Cloud."
It was the right push. Cloud grabbed Reno by the back of his shirt and pulled them both behind one of the heating units outside the main building. Reno had barely started protesting before Cloud had elbowed him in the gut. The blond in charge now popped his head around the heater, checking out the area. There were some kind of exhaust fumes above them, and they were in a shadowed corner, hopefully invisible to any cameras fixed on the outside walls.
No one was coming or going. The cadet barracks' windows were all closed and this side of Shinra didn't have windows until the fourth story. If Reno made a loud exclamation someone might hear it, but by the time security got down here they'd be safely back in the barracks. It was better to make this quick though, rather than the risk of a run-in with a perimeter patrol.
Reno audibly groaned; one arm wrapped around his stomach, cursing Cloud for that one. Cloud wasn't in the mood to offer any sympathy, especially when Reno was being particularly irksome.
"Shut up. Tseng uses two different, custom guns depending on range, conditions, and the target. He uses a silver Taurus model 66 for longer range and larger targets. It's a .357 magnum with seven rounds in a traditional barrel. Stainless steel with a padded grip, handmade, and it has a special barrel and sight."
Reno's face went completely slack with shock, bruised stomach forgotten, as Cloud plowed on, heedless for just the suspended moment of the consequences. It got his blood pumping almost as much as ducking behind the desk to hide from the guard had those few weeks ago.
"For the closer range or faster targets he uses a Beretta Neos with INOX. It's automatic, made of Damascus steel and solid black with an extended barrel and a thermal sight that can spot targets maybe four hundred yards away. Got it? Good. Now let's go back."
Reno's head was totally blank, registering somewhere in it that Cloud was pushing him back to the barracks. The bomb that had just been dropped in Reno's lap had diffused instead of blown up like he thought. It had been a gamble from start to finish and man, automatic!
The amount of money and brilliance to make those alterations… the strength to take the recoil… the ability to aim something firing thirty bullets a second straight from one hand… damn.
It took the redhead a good few minutes to put his thoughts into words and then out through his mouth. Reno surprised Cloud with his first coherent question, which wasn't the accusatory suspicion Cloud had expected. "Automatic? Beretta Neos automatic? Automatic's illegal and that gun doesn't even come in automatic!"
"He can reload with a magazine or with individual bullets."
Reno didn't ask any more questions after that, his face seemed to be trapped in an expression somewhere between awe and cruel jealousy. Cloud had no idea how badly he wanted to get his hands on those. Think of the clean action, the way you could reload two ways. Fucking amazing.
They managed to make it all the way back into the lounge outside their bunker before Reno formulated another response. Cloud was dreading the inevitable question, but Reno surprised him again. "So… I think the plan worked out well."
Cloud snapped his head up to look at the redhead for real. Would Reno really let something that big go?
Reno looked perfectly self-satisfied with himself, hands linked behind his head in a relaxed pose. Like he'd just robbed the Shinra vaults and hadn't left a shred of evidence.
The chills that went up Cloud's spine were worse than if Reno had asked outright how he'd known about the guns. The implication that Reno had guessed Cloud already knew what kind of gun Tseng used didn't sit well with the blond at all. Reno gave him a knowing look, and Cloud's whole expression closed off. Reno would get nothing from him.
The redhead seemed to know this though, because he casually slouched back, hands still behind his head.
"At least I didn't have to boost you through the bathroom window." He smirked, and Cloud saw the smug look out of the corner of his eye.
Can't trust a Turk, blue suit or not.
Friday morning dawned clear through Sephiroth's tall windows. He could see the sun majestically rising in the distance, plumes of golden, red, and orange light streamed across the desert in a race to Midgar. It was a beautiful view, but one he had long lost any interest in; the display was always the same.
His quiet moment of reflection ended with the swift, staccato beats of two boots heading down the hall towards his door. The familiar inhale and exhale of breathing followed shortly thereafter, along with the rhythm of the steps until the dull thuds stopped and there was only a breath, then the rustle of clothing, and finally the rap of knuckles against wood.
Zack didn't wait for a response, opening the door and walking onto Sephiroth's plush white carpet in the same boots he tromped through the fields in. The SOLDIER halted only a couple of steps in, and from the sounds of his movements he had no intention of taking off his boots.
Sephiroth might have sighed if he was ever inclined to, aware that Zack was going to drag him off somewhere and definitely not to work. The General didn't turn away from the windows in his dining room though, his back facing the doorway. Maybe Zack might leave him alone.
"Did you realize its Cloud's group going today?" There was no hello, no morning greeting whatsoever. Zack's breathy exclamation explained his abnormal heartbeat, just a tad faster than usual. He was excited. Sephiroth would be going to see the testing apparently, instead of dealing with the small mountain of paperwork already on his desk. He should have known.
"Seph?" The waver of concern in Zack's voice was perfectly clear in the stillness of the room. Sephiroth could not seem to make himself turn away as the sunrise washed over his kitchen and dining room, splashing against the white leather of his sofas in an image he had often watched and long memorized.
"He do one of those psychological tests again? Damnit." Zack' clothing rustled and there was the sound of shifting hair. He must have been running his hand through his hair. Zack had a more indirect dislike of Hojo, but it was nonetheless very powerful, particularly on Sephiroth's behalf. "Look, this'll be good for you. You can watch the cadets flounder and make fools of themselves, and a whole bunch of the guys are gonna have a betting pool. Let's get some breakfast with them there, it'll make you feel better." Zack took a couple more steps in, and Sephiroth noticed there was uncharacteristic amount of tentativeness in them.
Aware suddenly of how he might actually be frightening—frightening—Zack, Sephiroth turned abruptly. Zack flinched a bit back, and Sephiroth belatedly realized he'd moved too fast.
Inhuman beast.
"Let me don some more proper clothes." It would be a relief to get away and collect himself with others, he realized. He'd only mull on mindless philosophical questions if left alone. With a nod he gracefully put the tea mug in his hand down and headed back to his room to change. The delicate cup was a natural shade of green, handmade from Wutai, a personal favorite of his, and he was sure to be careful with it. He didn't let on how turbulent he felt then. The disparity between him and the other First Class SOLDIERs was rarely felt as poignantly as just then.
Zack watched him walk away with equanimity unmatched. Sephiroth wasn't prone to mood swings often, but sometimes they just happened. Zack had always struggled to find a way to snap him out of it. Sometimes group interaction worked, sometimes a good meal, other times just leaving him alone or a good spar helped, but occasionally he couldn't find anything to pick Sephiroth back up. It upset Zack on a deep level to see his friend like this, and he hated his helplessness.
The man was normally taciturn but witty, a paper-dry sense of humor always there in the background of his conversations. This gaping void had been more prominent in Wutai, and for obvious reasons to Zack, but those wounds had been licked and scarred over. It happened in war. But these occasional relapses were all the more reason for worry. Sephiroth was able to joke sometimes about the war, but other times… Was there a trigger? Did Sephiroth have nightmares? Or was it just Hojo's meddling?
Sephiroth stepped back into the living room, his sleek black work-shoes in one hand. He had swept his hair over one shoulder, wearing dark work pants and a loose white shirt. He ignored Zack, whose eyes roved over him carefully, obviously looking for signs of the corrupt scientist's experiments, and Sephiroth ignored him. He never liked being probed and stared at, whether as a specimen or hero. Zack meant well, but that didn't move his eyes away.
Sephiroth picked his mug up from the dining room table and returned it to the immaculate kitchen, washing it out in the skin and placing it steadily on the drying rack. It was the only dishware visible in the kitchen, the only sign someone even used this marbleized room.
They left moments later, Sephiroth locking the door behind him. Zack kept abreast of him to the elevator, chatting unhurriedly if mindlessly. The noise seemed to soothe Sephiroth on some level, though it wasn't outwardly visible. Zack knew there was little else he could do except to wait it out.
There were three pools on the Shinra grounds: a SOLDIER pool and two for the regulation army. The pools were indoors, the outdoor weather and temperature changes during the day too harsh for the upkeep outside. Or maybe Shinra was just too cheap. The SOLDIER pool was a ten-lane giant, with chemically altered water that didn't utilize chlorine to keep it clean, as the sensitivity of a SOLDIER was considerably more powerful than a human.
The regulation army pools were the normal size, older style ones with probably too much chlorine in the water. The cadets from Cloud's group were gathered there, huddled on the bleachers off to the side. The ugly orange bleachers were the brightest color in the room next to the glimmering blue water. The only reason it was so clean was because so few soldiers actually used it.
The General, three Firsts, and roughly ten Second Class SOLDIERs had adopted the top booth at the back of the pool for their gambling and viewing pleasure. Zack hadn't been able to bring Kunsel, who had meetings scheduled all morning, but that didn't stop the man's enthusiasm. Instead he brought another First Class, his favorite gambling buddy, Wade, and Wade's tag-team partner Drace. The box was specifically designed so the heat of the room and the overwhelming smell of chlorine didn't penetrate, letting the SOLDIERs relax in peace.
Inside it was a tumble of sound from the Seconds', Zack, and the other two Firsts' shouting voices as the betting pool opened up. The furniture was older, the cushions worn on the scattering of seats and the paint peeling in the corners. It even had the strange mixture of dust and cleaner smells that was unique to some of the older, less lived-in buildings.
Sephiroth would have wrinkled his nose at the smell, but he managed not to as he was hailed and greeted upon his entrance. Zack made a comment about air quality, but other than that the door was left open to let a little air through. The men were fairly easy around their General, if a little more subdued in their betting than they might usually have been. Wade threw the General a side-glance and then shared one with Drace, both no doubt aware of the odd mood he was in, but didn't ask about it. The Seconds didn't seem to notice or respond to it.
The Third Class SOLDIERs below were having a harder time than their superiors. Chlorine was a powerful chemical and had a very distinctive smell. Normal humans often felt uncomfortable if there was too much in the air, let alone a more sensitive SOLDIER's nose. The ones monitoring these tests were rotating for a step outside to clear their senses.
The General looked down on the hubbub of the pool area distantly, watching with detachment. He couldn't bring himself to do more, his mind sluggish. It was an unpleasant feeling, but he couldn't seem to drag himself out of it, a side effect of Hojo's typical tests and psychological prodding. There was nothing the professor liked more than seeing what made his best experiments tick.
This pool was smaller than the ten-lane SOLDIER pool and only twenty-five meters long with six lanes. The grey tiles surrounding it were slick with water and the starting blocks at the far end were long worn down and a mellow shade of white. Behind Sephiroth, his SOLDIERs had taken down the hair colors and visible attributes of the cadets down by the pool and were starting a betting pool for the four rounds of swimmers. Zack was of course in the thick of it.
The coffee table in the center had been cleared to record bets, so the food was left in a pile on the desk in the far corner. Zack had brought some water over for the General, but Sephiroth had otherwise declined. He was not overly fond of the greasy food the SOLDIERs indulged themselves in. His palate was a little sensitive to that.
To the left of the pool was a row of bleachers with about forty cadets seated on them, two recruitment dates roughly. Strife's mop of blond hair was clearly visible next to a redhead. They were on the topmost bench in Shinra-issue swimming trunks and t-shirts. Sephiroth was just able to make out their expressions, the blond's calm and the other's a little nervous.
Zack stepped up next to him. "Cloud look okay?" Sephiroth glanced back over at the boy. One of the Thirds had planted himself on the slick walkway before the cadets, explaining the rules of the test. Sephiroth noted the Third's uneven breathing, like he was holding his breath for as long as possible. He was probably next on rotation outside.
"He should be fine."
"Good, I'm betting on him." Zack turned away after a minute. Sephiroth continued to look down at the pool distantly; only dimly aware of what was happening both in the box and outside it.
The test was a simple but necessary one. SOLDIERs needed to be able to swim, and this was the way for Shinra to decide who needed the extra course on swimming and who didn't. It had become more than just a trial though when SOLDIERs starting betting on outcomes, and soon the cadets had taken to the competition and the pressure not to be made a fool of.
In the peripheral of the room, partially behind a set of bleachers, was the familiar shade of blue of the Turk suit. From the angle Sephiroth was at he could just make out the black hair pulled back in Tseng's traditional style. The Turk was obviously here for recruiting purposes, just as he was here to observe. Tseng and he had a fairly simple relationship in most people's eyes. They stayed out of each other's ways, Turks and SOLDIERs stayed away as well, and that was as much as the President and his executive board cared to know.
In fact, the General and Tseng had fairly common taste in a number of things. The way their departments were run in Shinra was the one they connected on most frequently—though Tseng was technically second in command, though he often organized foreign missions for the Turks. Both ran military factions of the whole, so they had the same respect for hierarchy and similar opinions on punishments and measures to be carried out. It made it easier to deal with someone in a similar position of authority who dealt along similar lines as him.
They're similar tastes extended beyond the work realm. He and Tseng had a real respect for good, cultivated Wutain food. Many an issue between their departments had been solved over a quiet dinner. What they were also most known for having in common was only speculated outside their hearing: their preferences in bed. Sephiroth restricted any encounters of that nature to SOLDIER Firsts, and even then it was infrequent. Tseng was perhaps a little more promiscuous, but perhaps not. Rumors were always exaggerated as Sephiroth had learned.
Zack nudged him as he and other SOLDIERs grouped by the glass. Various comments, some lewd and some appreciative, were made as the cadets stripped off their shirts and were directed before the eight starting blocks in short lines of three or four people. Zack commented on Strife's physique, how already the extra lessons were paying off. Sephiroth squished the odd feeling in the back of his mind.
Down on the deck Sephiroth could see Cloud Strife second in line in lane four. Zack pointed him out loudly as the other SOLDIERs looked on curiously. Zack's interest was well known to the SOLDIERs in Midgar—after all, it was a rare thing for a First to train someone one-on-one, especially a trainee. Despite the number of jokes concerning the legal age of consent, the other SOLDIERs took careful note of the blond, aware that Zack didn't choose people just out of pity, but also out of skill. No matter how much Zack liked a good brag, he usually backed it up well and people were curious.
As was the General.
Strife had been an on and off thought for him up until the interrogation. At that quick meeting, Strife managed to become a real bother in his mind. Now, looking down on the small boy, Sephiroth let him occupy his thoughts rather than push the disturbance away as he normally would have done—he needed the distraction. Hojo's tests and invasive questions last night had left him empty and exhausted but unable to sleep. He had stood, frozen in his dining room, still in his clothes from last night, contemplating human selfishness, greed, and need for constants through the night, and even in this room full of people the lingering shade of that void of emotion stayed with him.
The boy had been underestimated and overlooked from the start. The General hadn't even noticed him or given him a spare thought until Zack brought the kid right under his nose, and even then he'd waved off that defiance as teenage recklessness and rebellion, if stupid bravery. Sephiroth was perfectly aware of how intimidating he was to people. Then there'd been those brief run-ins, hardly a few words spoken and more said in body language than Sephiroth could ever hope to interpret. Strife was cordial but stiff, and not with the hint of embarrassment or awe so cultivated in the rest of the populace. His tension had been palpable but for some reason unexplainable. Sephiroth had looked that cadet in the eye and not seen the Cloud Strife that should have been there. But just who had he seen? Or what?
The first shot of the gun from the pool rang loudly through the vaulted ceiling. Several of the cadets flinched before diving in, with two belly-flopping almost immediately and another almost falling off the block into the water. SOLDIERs were laughing and egging on their chosen bets like racehorses while the Thirds down below looked on with barely smug smiles. This test was always a riot for SOLDIER.
Sephiroth hardly watched them though, his eyes focused on the blond cadet standing quietly behind the block next in line, a contrast to the shifting and fidgeting cadets all around him.
The interrogation had been the most surprising and enlightening meeting of course. Kunsel hadn't pulled exactly what Sephiroth was looking for—not that the General really even knew what that was—but he'd drawn a number of disquieting and introspective ideas thanks to what hadn't been said at that interview. Strife was far more than Sephiroth could see, and the silver-haired man had been pleased inside: the blond would have been boring otherwise.
At the end of the first lap it was obvious who could swim and who couldn't. Three boys floundered, helpless in the ten-foot deep end of the pool, already grappling for the walls so their heads didn't go under. Sephiroth could sense the barely repressed disgust or amusement in some of the SOLDIERs. He himself felt neither one way nor the other. Those that couldn't swim would be taught. If they were on unequal footing they would have to make up for it some other way.
After Kunsel's part in the interrogation, Sephiroth had made his own move, and he still wasn't sure if he handled it well. He wondered if he hadn't been forceful enough or if he'd been too hard, if he hadn't asked the right questions or if he'd even had any control over the outcome. It felt strange to doubt himself like that, but Strife's puzzle was a dangerous and delicate thing to be handled, and a mistake in one direction meant re-tracking another five. Zack had dealt enough with that to prove to Sephiroth the need for tact. It was strange to be the one dealing with it instead of being the cause, as Sephiroth knew he often was.
The first round of boys who could swim made it back to the starting blocks and were hauled on to the deck by the next in line. Strife, as Sephiroth noticed, offered the boy before him a hand up, though he spoke no words. He mounted the block a moment later.
Zack was bouncing on the balls of his feet, muttering under his breath encouragement and luck to Cloud.
The gunshot fired and Cloud dove. It was a relatively clean dive, and he started off well. Zack's voice rose in crescendo as Cloud swam easily down the lane, outstripping his red-haired neighbor easily. He was second to another boy in the first lane, but Sephiroth didn't particularly care. Strife's ability in the water wasn't overly impressive normally, but the General was aware Strife came from Nibelheim, a place too cold for any swimming water and with a lake frozen over most of the year. With the residents of the village traveling so little, Cloud's fluidity in the water made him wonder.
Zack didn't seem to notice or care for the moment. Cloud was too far behind the other boy to win, but that didn't stop Zack from cheering him on. Money was already switching hands behind him.
As Cloud pulled in to the block and came out of the water, Sephiroth's eyes were drawn to his smooth, unblemished back. He had broad shoulders for one of his stature, with a clear line down his spine edged by muscle. His blond hair didn't quite fall to cover the back of his neck and if Sephiroth trained his eyes he could see how the water slid between his shoulder blades down into the band of his swimming trunks.
Sephiroth caught Zack's elbow before it could connect with his side. The General's eyes lingered a moment longer on the small of Cloud's back were the hint of two dimples were before pulling away to meet his Lieutenant General. Zack was watching him with some guarded emotion in his eyes. Sephiroth could almost feel Zack glancing between him and Cloud, though the SOLDIER's never strayed from his own.
After a couple of seconds, Zack turned away to dig in his back pocket for his wallet. After paying up for losing the bet, he turned back to Sephiroth, this time a smirk on his face. "Well?"
The General answered immediately, not letting his real thoughts be spoken or even hinted at. "Adequate. The ratio of those able to swim and those unable remains the same so far." Sephiroth turned away intending to head out of the box. He had seen half the showing and had work to do. The records would be on his desk by this afternoon so there was no need for him to stay.
"What about Cloud?"
Zack seemed amused as Sephiroth turned slightly to look at him. Several of the more attentive SOLDIERs turned to look at him too. Cloud Strife's name had already passed a number of lips courtesy of Zack, and Sephiroth minute interest in him had turned some heads. Sephiroth dismissed them without even looking. "Your sessions will not be interrupted as it is abundantly obvious Strife does not need the classes."
Zack nodded, but he still had a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. Sephiroth turned away before he could consider it too much. Strife would make an excellent SOLDIER, of that he was sure. It was only a matter of practice and good survival skills at this point. Zack should already know what he thought of the matter, so why did he ask?
Sephiroth knew what Zack was getting at, and he resolutely turned his mind away from it. The traitorous voice in his head flashed his phantom lover before his eyes, the vague outline of a smaller man with shocking blue eyes, and then overlaid that face with a younger cadet's. The bright blue eyes turning to stare at him in front of the candy machine, the ones turned to the one-way wall of the interrogation room, the orbs that glanced over their bare back at the booth where Sephiroth was staring at the door blankly.