Warnings: Zack's mouth, Sephiroth's mind, but really not much of anything.

Chapter 8 : Going Under

Zack didn't want to do this. He didn't want to go with the doctors. He didn't want to get poked at anymore. He didn't want to answer questions about what had been done to them. A huge part of him was urging the dark-haired SOLDIER just to take Cloud and make a run for it.

He didn't because Sephiroth trusted him. Sephiroth needed them, and not just as SOLDIERs.

Needing something to distract himself from his rising panic, he did what he always did: he talked. "So, Spike, did you like riding the General? Now get your mind out of the gutter. I wasn't talking about that kind of riding," He forced a smile at his own joke, "I think he liked carrying you. He certainly held on to you long enough. Good thing you're so fucking light," he teased. Except… now that he'd mentioned it, Cloud was too light. He'd never been big but the blond was packed solid with muscle. He should be a heavy, little bundle but he felt like a kid of maybe forty, fifty kilos. Maybe it wasn't Cloud's fault though. It could be another side-effect of Hojo's experimentation on Zack; the dark-haired SOLDIER was much faster and stronger than he had been before. That could be it but somehow Zack doubted it would be that easy.

They'd reached the tent with the sign saying Field Hospital-Science Department...and wasn't that completely creepy knowing the two still went together in the minds of the ShinRa planners.

"Commander Fair," Dr. Imeera turned to him and said, "We have showers set up so that you can wash off the last of the mako." She was supposed to be a specialist in the effects of mako on people, he remembered. Although, that made Zack wonder where'd she study the subject. The only person in ShinRa he could remember playing around with humans and mako was Hojo. Had she been one of Hojo's assistant torturers?

"There'll be a chair for Corporal Strife?"

He was answered by a lower ranked med-tech, "There's a stool in the showers, Sir."

This whole situation was making him itchy. He didn't feel like he could trust anyone here, but Cloud needed help and maybe they'd be able to suggest something. "Nnnng," Cloud mumbled. Nobody else would've known the sound was a protest but Zack did. He took a deep breath and relaxed his grip so that he wasn't squeezing so hard.

"So where are these showers?" he asked to once again to redirect his thoughts.

He followed the young medic to a section of the tent that was lined with plastic curtains. The entrance was really skinny and he wound up tripping on the raised floor and bashing his elbow on the wooden supports as he manoeuvred them through it. There was shelving along one side and three shower stalls along the other, all of which were big enough for two people.

Made sense, he supposed, as most of the people in the hospital likely couldn't shower on their own.

"Soap, shampoo and conditioner," the tech said, pointing out everything. "Towels are here and clean uniforms are in the cupboard just there. I'll go get the stool." The man scurried out.

Maybe he realized how uncomfortable he was; how much he didn't want to be here and was trying to be tactful or something, Zack thought. The SOLDIER didn't realize that his nerves were bringing out the glow in his eyes. 'Mako bright? Get out of sight' was the simple rhyme taught to all non-altered troops to help protect them from SOLDIER tempers.

The medic brought the waterproof stool in and left again, leaving Zack to undress his comatose friend in peace. He sat him on the stool and stripped the blond with brisk efficiency.

"Gghhn."

Zack easily interpreted the question, "Not unless you want to get the feathers all wet. Then you'd have to leave them out while the doctors do their exam. They might like poking at them, but I don't think you'd like it much."

Cloud drooped a little but kept his wings hidden, "Ghhhn."

Zack paused, thinking about the new question before quickly rejecting it, "Nah, I don't think so. Don't know who might barge in. Or maybe they have cameras in here. I certainly didn't look."

The showers had hand-held showerheads which made washing up that much easier. It wasn't long before Zack had nice, warm water running over them. He left it on while he soaped and scrubbed Cloud's body. His actions far more impersonal and professional than General Sephiroth's had been, even when he was cleaning his friend's most intimate areas. He'd had to do this far too often in the lab.

He'd always griped and complained but that had been an act. If the guards had thought that he didn't mind cleaning Cloud up, that, in fact, he'd preferred to do the job himself; they wouldn't have let him. They'd have done it instead. That had happened a couple times when Zack had been too sick or injured. It had never ended well. So many of the guards had looked at the corporal's pretty face and slim body and decided that it would do until they got a 'real girl' to fuck.

He wouldn't think that maybe their attitude was partly his fault. At least, he tried not to.

"Seph's right, you have grown but you're way too fucking skinny. You don't weigh much more than a bird, but that's okay, I heard him arrange to have a meal waiting for us once we're done here. A big one, like in Nibelheim. I remember you didn't believe me when I said SOLDIERs ate a lot. Then, when we were eating you just looked at us in amazement, mouth hanging down to the table. It was kinda funny. Close your eyes," he ordered before dragging his fingertips over those big eyes. Out of reflex, Cloud's lids dropped to cover them. He lathered up his friend's hair working the shampoo in real good, giving his scalp a little massage.

"Hhhgn." It was a sad, hesitant little sound.

Zack's movements stopped. He'd always known that somehow Cloud had been aware of what was happening to his body. "I... I don't think the General will care, Spike. I think he's just happy to have you back. You let me touch you but we were... are friends. Everybody else was rape. I—"

Again he stopped. Would the General be angry at Cloud? As stupid as it was, many partners of rape victims got mad at their partners for allowing the rape to happen. The Sephiroth he'd known three years ago wouldn't have been angry at his lover for being raped. He would have accepted it as a new factor in the relationship and would have researched strategies for mitigating any negative outcomes. From what he'd seen, this Seph would react the same way.

"He grew up in the labs with Hojo in charge. He probably has first-hand knowledge of the kind of twisted fucks that work for Dr. Creepy." Cloud's back twitched hard in response to the instinct to call out his wings and spread them in display, both threat and defence. The soldier probably wasn't even feeling anger over his own treatment. More likely he was fighting back anger at how the General had been treated as a child, and what might have happened to him.

Zack soothed him automatically, his mind still worrying at the question his friend had asked. Rape was one thing, but what would the General say to consensual sex? He'd never taken betrayal of any kind well, and infidelity was a kind of betrayal, wasn't it? He didn't know how Sephiroth felt about it; he couldn't recall a single instance of one of the General's infrequent lovers ever sleeping around on him.

As much at the silver-haired swordsman cared for the corporal, Zack didn't think it would help that it had been Cloud who had initiated it the first time. He'd just needed the reassurance of a friendly touch, a human need satisfied with care instead of pain. Zack had needed it too. He'd been surprised at how nice it had felt, at how much he'd liked the feel of Cloud beside him, of being inside him, of knowing that both of them were warm and breathing and alive. The few times they'd had sex, neither had minded when they'd called out their real sweethearts' names. At least it hadn't hurt and, for a while, they could pretend to be somewhere else, with someone else.

Zack had stopped… he couldn't decide if it had been 'having sex' or 'making love'; whatever it had been, he'd stopped doing it with his friend as soon as Cloud couldn't say 'yes' or 'no' whether in words or in hand gestures. If his friend couldn't tell him it was okay, then it wasn't okay.

Zack had still held him, still kissed him on the cheek and rubbed his body when it got cold, but wing rubs had been the best he could do. He'd sometimes got the sense that Cloud wanted more, but without the words Zack had felt little better than their fucking psycho guards.

Would Sephiroth consider it a betrayal?

"I'll explain it to Seph and maybe it'll help me figure out how I'm gonna to explain this to Aerith? I mean, at least the General knows you like guys. With Aerith... well, it'll probably blindside her. Of course she's such a doll she might understand and forgive and be all nice about it. What you think, Spike? You've met her," he babbled on while his mind worried about other things. His voice soothed both Cloud and himself.

"It'll be okay," the dark-haired SOLDIER repeated, "He's missed you too much to give you up over something so understandable." Zack truly believed that Sephiroth wouldn't give the blond up for anything.

How he'd feel toward the Commander was an entirely different matter.

Sephiroth, as much as he would've liked to imagine Cloud and Zack naked in the shower or, even better, see them with the water running over their skin, was stuck at his desk sifting through the reports that had piled up in his absence. There were activity reports, injury reports, supply reports, research summaries, and projections; and not just from his command, but also from Genesis' forward camp outside the Midgar ruins and from Neo-ShinRa, currently based in Junon. He read them all, filing the information away in his mind as he'd been trained.

He'd been designed to have perfect recall and usually did. He could choose not to remember, a fate reserved for the endless receptions thrown by President ShinRa before the Collapse. There was only one period in his life that was blurred without his consent and that was his time in the mansion's basement when Jenova had been screaming at him, urging him to destroy everything and become a god.

According to common Gaian belief, the gods were aware of everyone and everything all the time. Sephiroth, looking at the reports still to be read and signed off that would allow him to know where a portion of the population had been in one moment in time, decided that absolute power wasn't worth the paperwork.

A young private rushed in, one of the flunkies assigned to his Aide that did all the actual work. She straightened into a rigid salute and held the stance until the General acknowledged her.

"At ease, Private," she obeyed crisply, so stiff it was obvious she was new to his pool of runners. She had probably listened a little too closely to Lieutenant Hinz's list of 'proper behaviours'. Sephiroth hid a sigh, "Report."

"Master-Sergeant Lutton said to tell you that the Mess Tent is prepared as you specified. He couldn't find any, um, Wutaian music to play on the stereo but said to say that he found something from before ShinRa and that it should be suitable. Also, he said to tell you that he's invited officers and civilians that suit the criteria you set."

"Excellent," he responded but the Private didn't shift. "Anything else?"

"I'm also to tell you that we've received communications from Vice-President Tuesti's transport. They should be landing in an hour or less."

He raised his eyebrow automatically, forgetting the effect the movement often had on the younger troops. However, it was too late to take it back. All he could do was wonder how this baby-private would react. "They couldn't be more precise?"

She swallowed, paled, but managed to reply, "Head winds over the straight, Sir."

"Very well, Private, notify me when the transport is ten minutes away." She'd held up well but he didn't try to smile... she might faint. "You are dismissed."

"Sir, yes, Sir!" She snapped another salute and crisply exited his office. Sephiroth didn't bother to sigh.

She seemed so young but he'd been her age or younger when he'd first gone up against the Wutai. Zack would have been only a little older when he first saw combat as a SOLDIER Third Class. Cloud was her age at Nibelheim. When did he get so old, he wondered. Then he laughed mockingly at himself. He was barely thirty; that was hardly ancient. Just because more than half his life had been spent fighting ShinRa's wars didn't mean he needed to feel morose or, worse, self-pity.

A glass of cold water and a sharp mental shake and he refocused on the issues being revealed in the documents he read. Or rather what wasn't being revealed. Rufus's Turks were the clearinghouse for gathered intelligence. Their reports always tended to be disturbing because they made no sense. That Tseng knew they made no sense didn't help anyone's frustration with them.

DGS forces had stopped their locust-like sweeps through the flatlands, scooping up a quarter of the population and 'disappearing' them. They'd made an underwater attack on the Junon reactor but had been pushed back. They had taken over a mako reactor in Wutai, killing or converting everyone. They'd held it for a week then abandoned the facility without a backward glance—which was similar to how they'd reacted to the attack on the Nibelheim reactor; complete resistance for a period of time then vanish. Reports said clones had dug up nearly all the archaeological site near Bone Village looking for something. They'd sent scouts into the ruins of Midgar. They were exploring the Northern Caves. They'd been caught nosing around an old temple on an island south of Junon.

One thing about the enemy, they were good at small scale raids; in fact, they excelled at quick destructive actions, but they weren't good at running an army. Their forces lacked the discipline required for just about anything from setting up a proper camp to moving supplies. With this battle out of the way, their last free-roaming battalion was locked onto the plains north of the Nibel Mountains, and Sephiroth knew it was only a matter of time before those ground forces were decimated as well.

Unfortunately, in smaller groups they went damn near anywhere they pleased, yet there was no logic to their actions. There didn't seem to be anything coherent about their goals what-so-ever. It had Tseng tearing his hair out. Or it would, if the Wutai half-breed would allow himself to show that much frustration.

The Turks' latest intelligence made it seem like they were fighting two different wars, not just one.

Sephiroth frowned, his mind caught.

Two wars.

Two sets of enemies, two wars... and two different objectives?

He quickly reviewed everything he'd read or heard since he'd taken control of the ShinRa forces, dividing the actions up, re-examining the reports from their source within their HQ at Icicle Inn.

Hojo worked with Jenova, likely to get off the planet and resume her ancient, destructive path. They mostly used clones to do their tasks. Clones made from the thousands of samples taken from Sephiroth over the years. The allied forces had discovered the S-clones, as Tseng discreetly called them, looking for something in and around the Northern Continent; Bone Village, Icicle Inn, or the Northern Caves—they'd explored them all.

Ms. Gainsborough had identified the Northern Continent as the ancient home of the Cetra. Cetra artefacts would be all over it. Hojo and Jenova had both been obsessed with the Cetra, and still were from all reports. It had been clones at the southern Temple, not DGS. Why? What connection was there between the Temple, the Cetra and Hojo/Jenova?

Then there was the Tsviets who answered only to the unseen Weiss the Immaculate. He spoke only to them or to Hojo. It was Weiss that gave the elite fighters their orders which they then relayed to the regular DGS forces. DGS forces were the ones going around decimating the towns and taking over the mako reactors. Were they searching for something or merely insane? If they were searching, was their target the same thing as Hojo's? If so, why were Deepground operatives never seen in the same places as the S-clones? As they were created by Hojo insanity wasn't an unlikely option, yet ShinRa's source in their enemy's command post held the opinion that there was an objective even if it was known only to Weiss and Hojo.

Considering the way the mad professor talked to himself, it was unusual that he'd let slip no hint of the plans he'd made with the DGS leader. He'd certainly been heard calling Weiss an 'ignoramus' and an 'idiot', but that's what he considered everyone but himself anyway. Their source had assumed it was because the two men had disagreed over plans to achieve their aim, but maybe it had another explanation. They'd all assumed that the goals of the Tsviets were the same as Hojo's.

What if they weren't?

The little private entered the room, saluting and breaking his thought patterns. "Sir, transport will arrive in ten minutes."

He locked away his notes, reminding himself to come back to them later. He checked his hair. It was still damp but not uncomfortably so. It shouldn't damage his leather coat. His coat. He had to smile. He'd acquiesced to Rufus' demands that he don the old black and silver even though he disliked the symbolism of it intensely. His main reason for doing so had been because the remaining SOLDIERs said its very familiarity was comforting and reassuring. Now, he could also comfort himself with the knowledge that Cloud had once enjoyed the easy access the design had afforded him. 'Soon,' he thought to himself. Soon he would be able to enjoy Cloud's enjoyment.

Then he put those thoughts away and headed out across the base to the landing field to play politics with old enemies become new allies.

"Hi, you're Sam, right," Tifa said, "Got a sec?"

Vincent crossed his arms and buried his nose in his collar. He adjusted his stance as he prepared to wait through another one of the black-haired fighter's 'little chats'. They'd worked their way through two repositories for a total of five staff members, all of them busy packing notes, journals, discs and other items into boxes so they could be taken on a Junon-bound transport that was arriving unexpectedly.

He'd grown resigned to waiting for Tifa to slowly... very slowly, get to the point of their visit, especially once he'd realized that by taking the time to be friendly she achieved some remarkable results. Everyone responded well to her. No matter how busy, they would take a moment to chat and consider her request for information; searching their minds for hints or clues that would tell her what she wanted to know. This had led them to this young technician who, amazingly, Tifa had never met before.

It had also allowed him to build up his knowledge of the world he'd emerged in to. It was both very different and little changed from the world he'd retreated from.

Thirty years ago, ShinRa had dominated everything, with the exception of Wutai and some small isolated locales that even the locals didn't care about. Now they were in shambles and struggling to recover from too many catastrophes in too short of a time.

They'd been hated and feared, but now people looked to the company, to the old president's son, to save them and return the world to what they had known. The boy was younger than he was, or appeared to be…he was younger than Lucrecia's son, and yet he was expected to be one of the planet's saviours.

People were fickle. That hadn't changed from before.

He returned to the conversation in time to hear Tifa finally get to the point of their visit. "We're looking for notes left by a Dr. Lucrecia Crescent—"

"Oh hey, isn't she the one who did all that work on Chaos?" The geeky Sam with his thick glasses and done-up-to-the-neck shirt said. It was unfortunate that the glasses magnified the direction he was looking at, and it wasn't the fighter's delicate face. Vincent locked down the impulse to tap his fingers in annoyance.

"Chaos? As in Chaos Theory? Like randomization... or the, the whatchamacallit principle—uncertainty principle. That one," Tifa asked?

"Yeah, but no. Chaos as in the planet's final survival mechanism, or, um, as the omen announcing the end of days."

Vincent shifted uncomfortably. The being inside him had perked up at any mention of its purpose. Neither of them really knew where Lucrecia had found Chaos or why it had existed. Lucrecia hadn't said anything about omens. All she had said was that she didn't want Vincent to die. He'd wanted to die. He'd failed; failed himself, failed his father, failed the unborn child—failed Lucrecia…

He cut off those pointless thoughts. It sounded like this young man knew some of what Lucrecia had been working on. The ex-Turk could probably obtain clues of what Chaos was if he could figure out a way to bring it up in a discussion. However, Vincent had no intention of discussing his unwelcome 'guest' with anyone, ever. Those scars were his.

*You may have no choice, my little immortalis, if Omega is rising.* Vincent ignored the comment and the endearment with the ease of long practice.

"That sounds like the right one," Tifa said. "What do you know about her?"

"Oh wow, she was, like brilliant but completely ignored because her stuff was, um, completely over the heads of most of the ShinRa science department. Even the profs at Kalm U didn't really understand what she was talking about. Still don't even now really, even though we know that the Lifestream is real and not just mysticism. Most scientists don't like discussing her stuff, really." He leaned forward, whispering, "She was married to Hojo, you know," he leaned even closer, "They say she even participated in his human experimentation."

Not by a single movement; not a shift, a wince or the smallest little twitch, did Vincent react to the boy's delightfully scandalized whispering. Tifa nearly looked at him but changed her eye movement into a blink. Vincent appreciated her tact.

"That sounds like the one we want. She was based at Nibelheim and she may have left some documents, discs and stuff. Things the team would've scooped up when we were there. They would've turned it all over to you, right?"

"Yeah, but I haven't had a chance to go through any of it yet 'cuz, we've been busy getting all this other stuff ready to ship to Junon. Plane's here so we might as well use it, ya know?"

Vincent spoke up, "We would like to look at it."

"Um, well yeah but you have to have proper clearance." Chaos didn't like the boy's answer; it didn't like it at all. Vincent knew his eyes had glowed gold for a moment by the way Sam swallowed nervously.

Tifa had an easier way of getting what they wanted however. She pulled out her PHS, "Here Sam, General Sephiroth's authorization." She replayed the message the General had sent and gave the boy the paper that had been delivered to them confirming the voice recording.

Sam took the paper as if it were covered in gold. "I'll, uh, just check this," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, obviously indicating something beyond their current line of sight because all they could see were boxes, tape and more boxes on shelves standing higher than Tifa could stretch her arms. When he walked back and around a corner they followed. Hidden behind the shelves was a small cubby space filled with desk and computer and more shelves. The items here weren't in tidy, labelled boxes, but loose in baskets or wrapped in elastic bands to keep them together... the new arrivals.

Sam waved the code on the paper under a laser scanner and watched the screen until 'confirmed' flashed on the screen.

"Cool." He turned and jumped when he nearly ran into them. "Oh wow, you're here. Okay, right. Umm. All the science stuff found in Nibelheim is here," he blocked two sections of shelves, "Discs here," he pulled forward a bin, "journals here," another, larger bin, "loose papers—"

"We get the idea," Vincent interrupted, his gravelly voice even rougher than before. Sam jumped again.

"Yeah, sorry. Some people don't like my system of pre-organizing. I, uh, can't let you take anything from here, but you can make copies as long as you, um, make a note of it here," he opened a hard cover log. "The columns are pretty self-explanatory. So, um," he jerked his thumb back toward the other space, "I'll just go back to packing. Call if you need anything." With a bob and a twist, Sam disappeared. Both Tifa and Vincent stood watching him go.

"I think you scared him," Tifa commented.

"Not hard to do with someone like him," Vincent riposted, "He could barely keep his eyes on your face."

"Vincent, you're not calling him a sex-starved nerd, are you?" Tifa glanced sideways at him, "That would be labelling him with a stereotype."

"It's not a stereotype if it's what you are."

Tifa laughed out loud at his offended tone. "You realize people are going to call you a vampire?"

He blinked. "What?" How had the conversation gotten here?

"Let's see," she ticked off points on her fingers, "Slept thirty years in a coffin, in the dark, without food, long hair, flowing cape, red eyes, intimidating and silent; definitely a predator. I'd say you fit the stereo-type perfectly." She grinned at him in triumph, "Guess you're a vampire."

*Oh, I like her* his other self purred. "We should begin. You take the computer," was all he said. He ignored both Tifa's and Chaos' soft laughter.