Warnings: Zack speaks, 'nuff said.

Chapter 9 : I Am Human

"Nnn."

"You need to wear the shoes, Spike." There was no change in the blond's expression, he made no other sound but Zack sighed. Cloud didn't want to put the boots back on. Zack had already talked him out of displaying his wings in front of the doctors; now Cloud was digging in his heels, kinda, about wearing the heavy army boots. Still, it would cause comment, maybe make the Docs investigate a little more than they needed to, if he didn't put them on. The SOLDIER tried explaining it, again, as he balanced the heel on his knee so he could put the sock on his friend's small right foot.

Cloud's toes twitched.

Zack stared at them. "Cloud," Zack looked up hoping to see something in his friend's face. "Spike?" There was nothing. It was still the same vacant expression he'd worn for over a year.

"But your toes did move. Maybe it was a fluke, Spike, huh? Let's check." He approached the blond's foot holding the sock stretched open and ready. A beat. Nothing. 'Damn,' he said silently. He wanted Cloud to be getting better.

Then Cloud's toes twitched again. Even stronger this time.

A broad grin, so big it hurt, but Zack didn't care. Cloud had moved his toes! He whooped and caught the blond up in a hug, lifted him and twirling him. "Just wait until I tell Seph. He's gonna be so excited. I know it."

"Is everything okay in there, Commander?" came a hesitant voice from the other side of the divider.

"Yeah," Zack answered, "Feels great to be clean." Well, he reasoned with himself, it wasn't exactly untrue...

"Good, okay. Umm..." Zack could almost see the guy on the other side, shifting his weight nervously; afraid he was going to get his head bit off for whatever he was going to say next. "What?" the SOLDIER decided to force the issue.

"We, uh, need some samples." The SOLDIER could feel the sudden tension in Cloud's body. Hojo's methods for collecting samples had been… unpleasant. He stroked through damp hair, whispering assurances. The medic on the other side swallowed hard enough that Zack heard him, "just urine samples and, and stool samples if you think you can, um, manage it. Nothing invasive."

"What do you mean?" Zack asked.

"I have containers, sir. If you think you can..." The tech poked his head through the curtain. "Do you think the Corporal will be able to..." he stopped unable to continue because he was blushing so hard. It was cute, and reassuring. Zack doubted the man would be so uncomfortable if he had no scruples.

"All I can do is ask, right?" Zack put Cloud back on the bench, letting him lean back against the wall, before walking over to the lab guy, "You got them with you?"

The tech held up four lidded sample cups, "I've already labelled them, sir, so you don't have to." Zack took them. "I'll just, um, wait out here." The tech left in a hurry and Zack watched him run away

"Fuck, Cloud," he laughed, staring at the containers. This was something new. "I'll trade you the boots if you can poop on command."

The General strode through the camp, nodding in response to the salutes and greetings he received. He wasn't friendly or approachable, he never had been and he knew it, but he'd be damned if he allowed himself to return to being cold. Before Nibelheim, before his dip in the mako stream, he'd been completely unknown in his own army. People knew what he represented, of course, his reputation and ShinRa's omniscience had ensured respect and obedience. ShinRa was no longer considered all-knowing or all-powerful. Important, yes, but not one step down from the gods. And Sephiroth no longer considered himself ShinRa's 'Silver General' even if the press still called him that.

Actually, his reputation had changed somewhat, in ways that still managed to baffle the silver-haired warrior. He was no longer considered an 'ice man' or heartless. Instead he was a tragic romantic hero. He'd have to remember to get Zack the graphic novel adaptation of 'The Nibelheim Event' as it was unimaginatively called. Zack would laugh, but Sephiroth had barely recognized the story, nor could he see himself in the lines of the mountainous main character. Didn't the artists even realize Commander Fair was taller than he was? Hadn't they done any research?

And let's not discuss the battle-hardened, decorated, Corporal they'd drawn to look about twelve. It made him feel like a pedophile...

"General!" That irritating voice full of upper-class privilege; Sephiroth was tempted to ignore it, "General Sephiroth, I must speak to you."

"You are speaking." Sephiroth didn't slow his pace, forcing his so-called aide into a jog-trot.

"This is hardly the place for a private conversation," the Lieutenant chided. The effect was lost by the jiggle in his voice caused by the brutal pace. It didn't improve the quality of it, either. The grating, nasal tone was a reminder of so many of ShinRa's old executives, including Hojo, that Sephiroth often had a hard time not pulling Masamune out and running the irritant through. Rufus had politely but urgently requested that the General not kill the spy they knew about.

It was just one more reason for Zack to be okay... he wanted the First back as his Second-in-Command; then he could deal with Hinz and the rest.

"It is here or nowhere." Soon, the General knew, his 'aide' would be out of breath. However the man had achieved his rank, it hadn't been through outstanding physical conditioning.

"Very well, since you insist on doing this in public," puff, puff, he went. Sephiroth barely listened. "Why didn't you inform me that you had retrieved somebody else in the lab? That kind of information could be vital—"

"He isn't a dog or an article of clothing," Sephiroth stated.

"Uh... what," Hinz stuttered, "What are you talking about?"

"Pets and property can be retrieved. He is neither." The idea of someone owning another person was a touchy subject to the former experiment. "He was there. We found him. He came with us. It's very simple."

"He is Vincent Valentine, a very notorious Turk in the old days. His... his rescue," he altered his wording with a disdainful sniff and more panting, "would make a great story. It might even take people's attention off your scandalous sleeping arrangements. After all, everyone thought he'd died—"

"A former ShinRa employee who'd been declared dead but discovered perfectly alive shouldn't be a big story. It happens so often." Sephiroth stopped, turned and stared down at Hinz. He knew his eyes were glowing in annoyance, he didn't care. "I have already sent a complete mission report to President Shinra. He will decide how to inform the press. Am I clear, Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Hinz paled but still pursed his mouth in disapproval. The effect was ruined when he had to open it again to gasp in another breath. "It's clear, General." Sephiroth resumed his march, Hinz jogged alongside him, "but I really think you ought to consider the bene—"

"Have you heard from the Engineers yet on the construction of the Nibelheim base?" Sephiroth interrupted.

"No, sir," the Lieutenant managed to respond.

"I would like you to speak to the Commander and see if our projections on time and materials are still accurate or do we need to revisit them. Now that we actually hold the valley, can he see problems or opportunities that we did not foresee? Follow him around, talk to him, take notes as he works, whatever it takes. I'd like the report by tomorrow noon." Sephiroth looked at his 'aide' knowing the man wanted to protest that such a task was beneath him, that he had better things to do, but he couldn't. A report like this did definitely fall within the job description of the General's Aide.

"Yes, sir," Hinz said, barely keeping the sullen pout from his voice.

"Very good. Dismissed, Lieutenant." Sephiroth nodded to acknowledge the officer's sloppy salute and then watched, with satisfaction as the spying little bug headed toward the transports. Compiling the report would keep Hinz busy most of the night, and away from his 'secret' communications device. Whatever information that was revealed following today's events, he trusted Rufus Shinra and Tseng far more than Hinz's employers. He made a quick call to the camp's Security department on his PHS before continuing his journey to the airstrip. He had other things to do so they would have to keep an eye on the Lieutenant.

Hinz, he thought with a scowl, he really wished he could kill that man.

Zack talked almost constantly from the time they left the shower. He told Cloud where they were moving to, what tests were being run and what they were for. He made sure the techs talked to them too because Hojo's assistants had stopped doing that early on. It was too dangerous to talk to the specimens; they became human and all of a sudden the techs were slipping them extra food or trying to be nice and then Zack would see a white lab coat floating in a tube of green liquid.

That wouldn't happen to these guys, so Zack wanted them to talk; about the tests, about their lives, about the latest freaking gossip, if that was what it took to make them seem more human than Hojo's people had. He knew he felt safer hearing their voices and he was sure Cloud did too. A couple times the blond had tensed and shivered and Zack knew he wanted to bring out his wings and chase them all away. Zack had done some fast talking then.

To help keep the blond's mind off all the tests, and to keep his promise, he let Cloud shuffle around in his bare feet. It had caused comment, after all they'd both just gotten clean, but he snarled that Cloud didn't want to wear shoes and that had stopped that.

Zack put one arm around the blond's waist and drew the other over his shoulder, and moved slowly enough that it could almost seem like his friend was moving under his own power. It was awkward; Cloud was still at least half a head shorter than the tall SOLDIER, but it was a little more dignified, and certainly less intimate, than Seph's carry had been. Besides, part of the point of not wearing boots was to let Cloud touch the ground.

Sometimes, when they were in chairs doing another test: vision, lungs, blood pressure and so on… and on and on, Zack swore he could see his friend flexing his toes on the flooring. Just little movements, hardly noticeable if you weren't looking for them, but definite flexing… probably.

Who the hell was he kidding? He knew he was wishful thinking, but one day, maybe soon, Cloud would be crunching his toes and wiggling his fingers and doing all the things that a healthy, young male does.

"Just one last test, Commander and, uh, Corporal. This one could be a little disturbing but I assure you, we've tried to minimize the risks." The plump technician looked tired and rumpled sitting behind his desk, and also scared and excited. Zack could practically hear Cloud growling at the poor guy. Or maybe he was growling. He gave a mental shrug.

"What kind of risks," the SOLDIER asked.

He leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him, the picture of well-meaning integrity. Zack had to grit his teeth. "Well, um, I'm not sure how much was explained to you about the, uh, relationship between SOLDIER First Class and Jenova—"

"A lot, actually," Zack interrupted ruthlessly. It was not a happy subject.

"Yes, well, um," Now he was leaning back and drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. The SOLDIER braced himself, inching slightly closer to his friend; this was going to be bad. "The levels of Jenova cells in both your systems is," he waved his hands tightly, "the highest we've ever found outside of, um, the General. That and the, uh, mako concentration in your blood means that you should be dead or, you know, insane and under Jenova's control."

The tech leaned forward again, "It could be a result of the 'Nibelheim Effect' but there's such a small population sample that we can't be sure…"

"You mean there were only two survivors out of a whole village, right?" Zack's voice was harsh. The SOLDIER could feel his friend quivering whether from anger or fear or grief. It didn't matter to Zack. He gave up on dignity and pulled Cloud's head to rest on his chest, giving whatever comfort he could.

"Um, yeah, exactly," He leaned back once again, away from the dark-haired warrior's anger. "And, of course, Ms. Lockhart doesn't have any, uh, Jenova cells whereas Corporal Strife is, um, saturated with them so it would, um, hardly be a basis for comparison or, uh, anything at all really. Plus there's the, uh, mutation to the virus that's occurring in the, um, Corporal." The tech was leaning forward again. It was like watching a ping-pong game.

"The what," Zack asked flatly. His fingers stopped carding the blond's spiky hair.

"Um, mutation," the man repeated, "For whatever reason, Corporal Strife's body is, um, altering the Jenova virus. It, it could be the cause of his odd reaction to the, uh, mako overdose, although, it doesn't explain your reaction, Commander. Um," he looked Zack right in the eyes, for the first time during the interview, "Your Jenova cells are, are also mutating but not as noticeably as in the, uh, Corporal."

"Is this the part where you ask us for more blood and tissue samples? Maybe a scrape off our bones or some spinal fluid because if it is…" He would fight, he decided. He would pull this whole fucking tent down before he let them do that to either of them.

"Nnnng," Cloud seemed to agree with him. Or maybe the blond thought he was gripping him too hard again. Zack concentrated on relaxing as he saw the tech back away, desperately waving off the suggestion.

"No, no, no. Nothing like that, no. The Sense materia is more than up to reading that kind of, um, information. Actually, this last test is, is standard for First Classes before going out in the field. So that we, know how close they are to, um, tipping over the edge, so to speak. The thing is we'd, uh, like to bring in a couple more people, with Sense materia, to, um, monitor you both to, to see how your cells react to it." He was sitting forward again.

React to it? React to what, Zack wondered, annoyed by the guy's irritating hesitation. What was this guy pussy-footing around? "What's the test?"

Now the tech leaned back; a bad sign. "We, um, expose you to a small piece of Jenova that we—"

That was as far as he got. With an inarticulate growl, barely audible to human ears, Cloud brought out his wings and spread them to their fullest extent. He lifted them, adding nearly a metre to his height and double that to his width. They quivered with contained violence and Zack, knocked forward a little, was reminded that birds could actually be quite strong, and very vicious, and their bones were among the strongest found in nature. If anyone took a wallop from one of the major bones in Cloud's wings, they would definitely feel it.

The lab guy obviously knew the blond Corporal wasn't happy with the suggestion. He'd backed up so fast he'd knocked his chair half over. He probably could've recovered his balance but he was too busy gawking at Cloud's display. Over went the chair, crash went the tech, and Zack could hear footsteps rapidly closing on their room.

The tech didn't bother getting to his feet, but instead knelt on the other side of the table, visible only from the chin up, eyes wide, . "Oh my goodness," he exclaimed, "I didn't believe them but those are wonderful!"

He turned his breathless gaze to the dark-haired SOLDIER, "I have to disagree with my colleagues. There's no way Corporal Strife is mako-poisoned." That was good to hear, Zack thought. Then the tech continued, "He's suffering from something entirely new."

Zack turned to his young friend, still holding his wings high and ready to strike. "Now you've done it, Spikey. We'll never get out of here."

"Sephiroth." Reeve's greeting, like the man himself, was a little too friendly.

It had taken the General a long time to believe it wasn't just a false personality, like he remembered Palmer and Heideggar's as being. He could also acknowledge that, as much as he didn't like being dragged into politics, and Reeve Tuesti was all about the politics, the former head of Urban Development was more reasonable and much less self-serving than most of ShinRa's old board had been. He actually tried to help the citizen's who depended on the company for their lives.

When he wasn't off negotiating world-altering peace treaties, that is.

"Tuesti," Sephiroth shook hands with ShinRa's Vice-President as was required by the rules of social behaviour, but his attention was on the two strangers standing back from them and looking discreetly over the camp. They had straight, dark hair, noticeably sallow skin and cautious eyes. Wutaians… and one of them wasn't exactly a stranger.

"Lord Godo," the General said. He bowed carefully to the older Wutai; not too deep, a salute between equals. "I am honoured to have you here," Sephiroth said. He spoke New Common rather than Wutaian. He knew the language: could read it, understand it, and he could, technically, speak it. It was just, as Zack had once commented, that he made it sound like two geese fighting... in a barrel.

"General Sephiroth," Godo acknowledged, "This is Lord Tonaga." He waved his hand at his younger travelling companion. "We are pleased to see you well." He didn't mean that 'we' in the old imperial sense. As the older of the two Wutaians, Lord Godo would do most of the chatting but what he said would bind Lord Tonaga as well, so when he said 'we' he meant it literally.

"Would you care for refreshments," Sephiroth opened the exchange, "We would be honoured to serve you."

"We would not have you go to any trouble as we are not worthy of your concern," Lord Godo responded as expected.

Wutaian culture was ancient. Its rituals and customs had been refined over centuries. Normally, Sephiroth could appreciate the dignified rhythm of the formal phrases and actions. Today, at this moment, he'd rather have the whole thing over with. He swallowed his sigh and continued with the script of negotiation. "It is never trouble to serve honourable men. I only hope that our meagre fare will be satisfactory. Everything is ready so you will not be inconvenienced."

"If the refreshments are already prepared then it is only proper for us to be satisfied. We would be honoured to partake."

"It is we who are honoured that you would indulge us."

Sephiroth waved them onto the path to the Officer's Mess. It was a short walk through tidy lines of clean tents with busy soldiers mending or practicing. All of them hand-picked by the Master-Sergeant Sephiroth had chosen to organize the event. Nothing of significance was talked about during the walk and nothing of significance would be discussed until Lord Godo had finished at least one cup of tea and had eaten at least two of the dainties they'd be presented with. The longer this took, the more respect was being shown.

Master-Sergeant Lutton had outdone himself in the Officer's Mess. He'd found sheets of bright fabric to drape over the tent's standard army-blah colour. Small potted plants, most likely dug from the surrounding hills this morning, graced the corners. An odd-shaped brazier, built from what looked like an irreparably damaged bumper, held slow-burning, aromatic logs. He'd even managed a small water feature that burbled happily on the raised dais where they'd be sitting. All the elements were represented: earth, wood, metal, fire and water—and it looked pretty too.

The officers standing beside the lower tables had all been honoured in some way during the current campaign. The General had thought it fitting that they get to see such an historic occasion. They could 'dine out on it', another one of Zack's sayings, for the rest of their lives. Besides, they deserved better food than what was usually served in the Regular Mess.

Sephiroth was surprised to see Captain Carter back from Cosmo Canyon. He couldn't have adjusted to his new leg so soon, but then he saw the crutches leaning discretely against the corner. The General nodded to the man, acknowledging him and his injury. The officer nodded back fiercely, looking briefly at the Wutaian Clan Lords before making himself stand even straighter, as if he wanted to do the General proud.

Sephiroth suddenly realized these men weren't here for the show, or to gather a tale to tell their children and their children's children. They weren't even here for the food. He looked at them all, neat and proud, medals shining. They were here for him. They wore the ShinRa uniform but they fought for him. They were proud of him and for him. It was... unexpected, and unexpectedly touching. Sephiroth dipped his head, hiding the rare blush his near-white skin could never hope to hide.

He led the way to the raised platform that held their table. Tuesti went first to prove it wasn't a trap, then Tonaga, followed by Godo and then Sephiroth. While Godo and Tonaga, as guests, chose their seats, the General turned to his officers. He straightened, placed his hand over his heart and bowed slightly. "Take your seats, please," he said. As one, the assembled officers returned the salute, and then did as requested.

Sephiroth turned in time to see Lord Godo exchange a significant look with Tonaga. The elder Lord nodded slightly, as if they'd confirmed a hypothesis. The Silver General looked at ShinRa's Vice-President, but Reeve just shrugged. He didn't know what had happened either.

"Arrrghh!" Tifa yelled before bashing the keyboard.

"I don't think that will facilitate data recovery," Vincent commented mildly flipping through a handwritten journal before setting it aside.

"I don't think anything will facilitate data recovery from this junk. I thought these people were supposed to be scientists," she stated angrily, outrage and disgust in her voice. "What kind of scientist only takes notes when the mood strikes them? And Hojo let them get away with that!"

"Hojo was, is, a very bad scientist. Many of discoveries credited to him were actually the work of assistants that he would steal and take the credit for. The assistant would then become a specimen and fade from existence."

Tifa turned to stare at him, "You knew this?"

"I did." Vincent confirmed, taking out another notebook to examine.

"Why didn't you say something? Report him to someone?"

"I did," he repeated, "I was told that as long as the results were acceptable, then it was no business of mine how Hojo obtained them. He was a very good influence peddler."

She glared, fairly quivering now and half out of her seat, "And that's it! That's all that happened?" Another moment and she'd slug him... or try. *Ooh yes, pretty mortal, please try.*

"Then he shot me," he didn't look up, "in the head."

She dropped back down to her seat, "He shot you because you knew he stole people's work?"

"For that and... other reasons," he still didn't look at her, but it was time to redirect the conversation, "Have you found anything on the discs?"

She turned back to the computer screen. "Fragments that mention Dr. Crescent's work on Chaos and Omega and something called Protomateria. Most of it is just stupid, a repeat of what she said in the hologram. 'Chaos precedes Omega. Omega signifies the end of the world, blah, blah, blah'. I haven't found the stuff she said she'd leave for you." Tifa sighed, leaning her chin on her propped up arm. "Instead I've found out that Hojo was jealous of her brains, dismissive of her obsession with Omega-Chaos, and had suspected that she had a lover; one of the other scientists."

Vincent's hand stilled in the middle of the page, "He says that she had a lover?"

"Not exactly but it's implied in some of the comments he makes about hormones affecting her mental processes. I haven't found any of Hojo's personal notes. One of the other scientists speculated a bit more openly in his journals." She snorted derisively, "Journals! Yeah, right. It's all gossip, rumour and daydreams. He mentions you," she turned back to smile at him. Vincent ignored the teasing look she sent him. "He says you had all the female staff panting after you and you didn't even notice. He also says there was some scandal in Midgar and that's the reason an Ace Turk like you was assigned to a backwater lab like Nibelheim."

Not even by the flicker of an eyelash did Vincent reveal anything of what he was thinking. It hadn't been a scandal, it had been an atrocity, and he had been responsible. He added the journal he'd been looking at to the growing stack of useless ones, and took another out of the bin.

"Even if you don't say anything, I bet I could get on the World-Wide Network, look up the old newspapers and find out. A lot of old papers were digitized and put on it." She stopped, a look of enlightenment on her face, "Of course! Her thesis would be on the Network."

"What do you mean?" Vincent prodded when the dark-haired fighter shut up.

"Before all this stuff happened, Midgar had created a world-wide computer network, anyone with access could upload anything onto it and it would be stored," she waved her hand, "somewhere. Kalm U, where Dr. Crescent earned her degree, uploaded decades' worth of theses. Dr. Crescent's might be one of them and, according to what I have found, it was all about Omega and Chaos. It could contain the information we need." Tifa sprang up from her chair, "We just need to find a computer with a Network connection."

She would've run out of the room right then, but Vincent put out his hand to stop her. "We should still finish up in here. Her notes must be somewhere." Even Chaos agreed with that logic.

Tifa opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, then opened it again. Then she shuddered. She raised bruised-looking eyes to his, "Those people were sick. The stuff they did..."

Vincent nodded in understanding and lowered his hand. He wasn't good at offering comfort, but he could try. "Why don't you take a break? Maybe do something physical; a short walk or some squats. To clear your mind."

Tifa sighed. "Thanks," she patted his arm, "but I don't think squats are gonna work."