Warnings: Lots of exposition and pseudo-scientific bafflegab
Chapter 28 : Dreamer
Cloud was nearly finished dressing when there was a knock on the door. He knew it wasn't Zack or Sephiroth. He wasn't sure how he knew that, it certainly wasn't anything specific, but he did know. He knew that they were unharmed too, which was good. Besides, if it had been either of them, they would have just walked right in. Whoever was on the other side of the door sounded like they were swinging a hammer in a strength contest at a carnival, although they probably weren't; Cloud's hearing was just very sensitive still. Standing in the shower with the water hitting the sides of the enclosure, he'd felt like a kitten sheltering under a tin drum during a thunderstorm.
"Cloud?" Despite everything she'd survived, Tifa's voice was still light and cheerful. It didn't sound much different from when they'd been kids together.
The knocking repeated and Cloud winced. "Cloud, are you alright? Answer me."
"Just a minute," he responded. He pulled on his top. It gaped oddly because the arm-holes were huge but he knew it was his since it was the smallest one he'd found in the room. He felt funny in the outfit, like it was missing something like weight from armour or a weapon he didn't have. He kept patting his chest looking for it. He took a deep breath. Was he ready for this? Did he have a choice?
Squinting in the too-bright light that drifted through the tent walls, he walked over to the door, opened it, and stepped into chaos. There was Tifa, chatting with a friendly looking SOLDIER Second Class. Various regular army personnel, in odd coloured uniforms but definitely ShinRa military, were scurrying around the office copying papers and gathering files before trotting out a side door to a larger space beyond. Cloud caught a glimpse of lots of tables and chairs before the door swung shut again.
It was so loud! He barely refrained from hunching over and retreating back into the sleeping area. Then there was the smell: stale coffee, old food and ripened sweat. He was going to be sick.
"Oh hey, there you are Cloud. You're looking much livelier than you were last night," Tifa greeted him casually, as if there weren't this huge gulf of years and events. "No wings," she commented, "Too bad, they were kind of cute."
His shoulders twitched but he suppressed the urge. "It's good to see you again, Tifa," he said politely.
He felt awkward and unsure; as if a mask he was wearing was being pulled away. He didn't feel like Corporal Strife, he didn't feel like a soldier. He felt like he was a twelve-year old misfit again, hoping and praying that the prettiest girl in town would finally notice him. He was blushing. The atmosphere in the busy office wasn't helping. He was this close to... panic, crashing, throwing up, running away—something bad and embarrassing. "Look," he said, "Can we go outside. It's a little–"
A chair fell, knocked over by one of the scuttling flunkies. It landed with a crash that pierced Cloud's brain. It hurt! His heart sped up, he jumped to the side, and his wings came out as he prepared to face the unknown threat. Unfortunately, one wing caught the urn of coffee and sent it flying. It barely missed hitting an open filing cabinet. As it was, thick, lukewarm liquid went flying in an arc only to land in fat puddles over every available surface. It wasn't so bad with his other wing. It merely hit the wall and knocked a large map to the floor, but with every loud sound, every jarring movement, Cloud's wings beat a warning and they pulled the soldier around. Cloud didn't care though. He could hear everything. He could hear them moving and talking and scraping chairs across the floor. He could hear them breathing. He could hear too damn much.
He hunched over himself, covering his ears with his hands then, when those proved inadequate, just covering his whole head with his arms and hoping for the best.
"Oh damn," he heard a somewhat familiar voice say. "Tifa, see if you can get him outside. Everybody else, get out for a minute," the voice said.
Gentle hands touched his. A soft voice whispered, "Shh, shh. It'll be alright, Cloud."
He knew this voice. This voice held echoes of childhood dreams, of a time when the world was cruel but sane and understandable. He could trust this voice. He focussed on its soft tones. His wings stilled and folded in a little, barely fluttering at the noise of dozens of boots hurrying away. He could still hear them; could still smell them.
"See if you can get him to breathe through his mouth," the first voice said.
"Cloud. Cloud, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me. C'mon, Cloud, you can do it." It was Tifa. He knew Tifa. He opened his eyes a thin slit. Kind brown eyes greeted him. She gave a small smile. "Breathe through your mouth, Cloud, like this–" She made her mouth into an 'O' and inhaled audibly. Then she exhaled just as noisily. Clumsily, the young corporal copied her. The overwhelming stench didn't go away but it dimmed until it was mostly bearable. That, and the lack of jarring noise now that the room was empty, let Cloud relax his stance. He dropped his arms and his wings settled although they remained half out and unfurled; ready for any danger. He could do this.
The SOLDIER Second Class approached. Cloud watched him warily and his wings stretched back out.
"Here. You should wear these until you adjust." The SOLDIER Second opened his hands to reveal earplugs and sunglasses.
"Oh," Cloud sighed in relief, "Yes, thank you." He reached out unsteady hands. Sunglasses first because they were easier to put on, then the earplugs. It was a form of heaven! The light no longer cut into his eyes. The sounds no longer pounded in his brain. He breathed deep in relief and nearly gagged. He'd forgotten the smell.
"It might be better outside," the SOLDIER suggested, "Everything will be less concentrated, but stay in the shadows; don't want to damage his eyes." Tifa nodded agreement. She wasn't doing anything here anyways. The fair-haired SOLDIER continued, "Just stay close. I hear they're on their way down the mountain and I get the feeling that the meeting will start as soon as the General opens the door."
"This is big, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yeah," the SOLDIER agreed, "I think everything's going to change now." Nothing in his tone said whether it would be a change for better or for worse. He turned away to pick up the papers the blond had blown over with his wings.
Tifa placed her hand on Cloud's arm. It was a light touch, barely more than brushing the surface, but it felt electric, and scratchy and too tight. Still, he reasoned, it was better than falling on his face or knocking over the table so he said nothing, just concentrating on making his wings go away. It was a lot simpler this time—no sex required. Instead he was keenly aware of the process and it felt really strange, like a heavy liquid flowing into his body. It wasn't sensual; it was actually rather disgusting and Cloud hoped that his hyper-awareness of the process would fade as he became more used to doing it.
Needing something to distract his mind, he looked around the tent, trying to piece together what was causing the frenzy of activity. Instead of clues he saw an unmistakable item tucked against the wall. "What's Zack's Buster sword doing here?" Where was Zack? He hadn't sensed that the big SOLDIER was in such danger that he'd lost his sword, but maybe the connection was all screwed up, because there's no way Zack would've left his sword behind. It meant too much to him.
"I couldn't leave it on the airfield after the fight. I had Torson bring it and I carried Vincent's shoes."
"What fight?" he asked baffled before shaking the question away. His heartbeat started to speed up. His breathing quickened. He could feel his wings wanting to come out the more panicked he became. "Never mind. He's all right, isn't he?"
"Well, he was doing fine when he flew off with Chaos and, since they're all coming back down the mountain, and Kunsel didn't say anything about any injuries, I think we can assume that everybody made it out alive and undamaged."
Cloud closed his eyes, "Right." Kunsel must be the light-haired SOLDIER Second Class that had given him the glasses and the earplugs. He did say something about Sephiroth and Zack and some other guy being on their way back to camp. It was good. They were safe. It was okay. His breath evened out. His pulse slowed down. His wings stayed safely in 'storage'.
Tifa had steadily guided him out of the crowded office. He'd been too distracted to notice so he wasn't really prepared for when she opened the doors and they walked out into the daylight. He flinched away from it and his wings came out to curl protectively around his head, blocking out the too-bright sun. They almost knocked Tifa over, but she jumped out of the way. "Sorry, sorry," he murmured, feeling like an incompetent idiot.
Tifa just smiled, "That's okay, Cloud." She stretched out and took his hand, leading him around to the side of the structure, asking one of the ever-present runners to bring a couple chairs for them. "Kunsel was telling me a bit of what it's like when you become a SOLDIER. Usually they isolate you for a couple days in a quiet room with someone you trust." She turned back to him and grinned, "This ain't anywhere near that."
"I'm not a SOLDIER," Cloud protested.
She looked at him, shocked, "Shiva's Glory, Cloud, what else do you think you are?" She urged the blond to sit in one of the chairs the runners had set down. He carefully tucked his wings away then perched gingerly on the seat.
'General Sephiroth's lover,' the thought wisped through his head and, although that was a nice thought—a very nice thought, it could only be a part of what he was. As for the rest; what was he? Mixed up lab experiment; fucked up crazy guy—a failure is what he wanted to say but that sounded whiney and pathetic and he'd stopped allowing himself to be that back before he'd left Nibelheim. Yet–he felt like that, like he had at fourteen when he'd vowed to this same person that he wouldn't come back to Nibelheim until he was a SOLDIER. He'd wanted to prove something to her, and to the rest of the village that had rejected him and his mother. That was seven years ago or maybe it was yesterday. The world was turning electric white, like visual static...
He felt a weight on his back, familiar and unfamiliar, and the smell of old books and used canvas invaded his senses. He was back in the village sitting on the water tower. He was running away from the town bullies to tired for another go round. He was peering at the mayor's pretty daughter from behind the alder bushes. If he opened his mouth now, he knew he'd stammer just like he had when he'd been a kid. He put a hand to his head.
Tifa, who liked people and paid attention to them, could read almost every thought that went through Cloud's head. "Since Hojo... defected, or whatever you want to call it, there's been a great deal written about the stuff he did in ShinRa including the SOLDIER program. I went through some of the notes from the lab yesterday. There was a great deal of information about what Hojo had done to you and, I have to say, there were a lot of similarities. So if you're not exactly a SOLDIER you're pretty close."
Just listening to her soft voice helped Cloud remember which reality he belonged in but it wasn't that easy to accept what she said. Was he a SOLDIER? He didn't feel strong. He felt shaky and off-balance and out of place. He didn't feel confident and strong like Zack always seemed to. Wasn't he still just 'little Cloud Strife', a corporal in the regular army?
He frowned and looked down at his clasped hands. "I– I don't know if I can believe that. It feels like cheating... or something." He wasn't a SOLDIER, he was a failure—a toy broken into fragments and badly put together.
"What do you mean? Like you didn't 'earn' it or something?" she asked, baffled by his tone. She tried to get him to look at her but he kept his head turned away.
"It's n-not the way it's supposed to be," he said softly. This hadn't been a dream come true, but a brutal nightmare. Not something he'd achieved, but something that had been forced upon him. He wasn't even sure he still wanted to be a SOLDIER, not if it meant he'd belong to ShinRa again.
"Dilly-dally, shilly-shally," she said dismissively, "I realize that, for you, everything's changed but that just means that you need to really think about it, take it all in. This is the way you are now. It may be hard to accept but we're here and we'll help you."
Cloud looked at her, seeing little Tifa Lockhart the mayor's daughter, just like she had been that night so long ago. "I'm not fit to be a hero." He couldn't even control his wings.
Tifa looked back unblinking. She, too, remembered that night; sitting on the water tower looking up at the stars and dreaming of 'if onlys' and 'what ifs'. They were a long way from being those innocent kids, still she gave him a small smile, "I don't need a hero, but I could always use another friend." She held up her pinky finger in a universally recognized gesture. Her eyes were soft and open, just like they'd always been, but now they revealed an internal strength Tifa hadn't had seven years ago—not even three years ago. Life had kicked her down, but she'd gotten back up.
She was right; she didn't need a hero anymore.
Cloud lifted his baby finger and locked it with hers, "Friends," he promised with a smile stiff with disuse. Tifa grinned back easily.
Tifa sat back in her chair, sprawling a little, and tilted her head to the sky. Cloud tried to follow her example but it was hard for him to relax. Even with the sunglasses and the earplugs and breathing through his mouth, he still felt like there was too much coming at him.
"Try to find one sound to listen to, like a bird or your breathing. Focus on it. Maybe it will help," she suggested.
He shut his eyes, trying to find some sound that wasn't irritating or painful. It was surprisingly easy. That SOLDIER Second had been right; with the sunglasses and the earplugs, he didn't feel overwhelmed by his environment anymore. There was the sound of people moving and talking, distantly familiar sounds as if he'd pulled them from an almost forgotten memory. His lips quirked; it sounded like the compound in Midgar where he'd been trained and stationed. It sounded like any army camp in the world.
It sounded like home.
He closed his eyes and relaxed. It made it easier to feel whatever it was that connected him to Zack and the General. They were okay. He felt himself relax a little more. "Hey, Tifa?"
"Hmm?"
He had been about her family and what she'd been up to for the last three years, but vaguely remembered hearing that Nibelheim had been destroyed and everyone killed. She'd been left alone.
"What is it, Cloud?" she asked, turning to look at him.
"Doesn't that cloud remind you of that fat, old dragon that used to fly over town?" he said desperately. She looked at him funny before obligingly turning her head in the direction he pointed.
"Yeah," she smiled, "Long neck, big belly and no legs to speak of." She pointed, "That one over there looks like a marlboro."
Cloud followed her gaze. "Dunno, looks like just an octopus to me."
Tifa tilted her head first one way then the other. "Hmm, maybe."
They sat beside each other, sharing their interpretations of the puffy white clouds and managing to talk gently about the last three years. Cloud heard all about the village burning, about Sephiroth's return and Hojo's escape; about the collapse of the plate and the death of the president. As hard as those were to wrap his mind around—Midgar was gone, harder still was the idea of Tifa Lockhart as an environmental terrorist and a wanted criminal.
Cloud knew about Master Zangan. He'd moved into the village just before Cloud had left, causing a rapturous bloom of gossip in the town square, but he hadn't known the old Wutai knew how to fight. Apparently, after he'd left to join ShinRa, Tifa had bugged the guy to teach her how to fight. It had gone against her father's wishes because Mayor Lockhart had wanted her to always be a delicate princess. She'd had to train in secret for the first year and a half. Cloud found it surprising that her father hadn't gone along with it, everyone had-known that he could deny his motherless daughter nothing but, Cloud supposed, the guy's belief in what was 'proper' for a female had been stronger than his desire to indulge her.
Tifa took his silence as some sort of condemnation because she reminded him that he'd never believed that a woman's only purpose was to get married and have lots of kids. "At least," she added chin sticking out in defiance, "that's what you said."
Of course, he hadn't believed that—mostly because living with his mother didn't allow him that kind of opinion. There's no way he could think of women as weaker or less competent after watching her. Plus, laws or no laws, his mom would've kicked his ass for even thinking such a thing. Later, in ShinRa, he`d seen lots of women pursuing careers in the various armed forces so, no it didn't seem odd that women knew how to fight, it just seemed odd that it was Tifa, the prettiest girl in the village, her father`s little princess, and Cloud knew he`d never, ever, say any of that because it somehow made her accomplishment seem less than it was.
Time to change the subject...
"Look," he pointed at a cloud with a long trailing bit, "That one's General Sephiroth."
He was so intent on distracting her from their conversation that he didn't notice the woman walking just meters away from them. The woman, wearing the medical personnel's long white coat, was on her way back from the airfield where they'd just finished triaging the injured. Maybe she'd planned to knock on the General's door to get an update on the people they'd rescued from the underground lab. Instead, she almost walked past the young couple sitting beside the tent before stopping, and doubling back. "Corporal Strife?"
Her voice was loud and amazed and strange to the blond. All he saw was a white lab coat rapidly approaching with unknown intent: a possible threat. He jumped up, knocking over his chair, and tried to scramble away. His balance wasn't helped when his wings sprang out, as they always did when he felt in danger. He might have felt embarrassed by their display except he had only one thought running through his mind: he wasn't going back to the lab.
Tifa had also stood up, placing herself in between the two. She held out a hand to stop the doctor's approach before turning her attention to her childhood friend.
"Woah, Cloud. It's okay. It's okay," she repeated, "This is Doctor Imeera."
"I'm not going back to the lab." His whole body was tense and ready for flight.
"I have no intention of taking you anywhere, young man," the doctor said, "I'm just... I can't believe you've recovered. It should be impossible."
It was Tifa who asked, "Why shouldn't he be recovered? Hojo left him alone for months." She had peeked at the records yesterday, while helping Vincent looking for Dr. Crescent's notes.
"He was being kept in a tube of almost pure mako and that means that the level of mako in his system is enough to make a vegetable of a man twice to three-times his size."
"But he has Jenova cells to balance that out, right?" the young fighter pressed. She'd just found him, she wasn't willing to lose him again and she knew there was something about Jenova cells and mako going together.
"The Jenova virus can only do so much because the amount has to be carefully controlled to avoid spontaneous mutation, or death. To counteract the amount of mako in Corporal Strife's body, he'd have to have nearly all his cells altered by the virus. He has a high level of infection but not enough to account for this."
They could argue all they wanted. Cloud didn't care, he told himself, or at least he didn't care enough. Mostly, he just didn't want anyone wearing a white lab coat anywhere near him ever again. He worked to calm his breathing and slow his heart-rate while Tifa and the doctor talked but then she turned and addressed him directly, "You do know that you're sweating green, don't you, Corporal?"
Cloud blinked at the odd topic change but said nothing. "If you're worried about it, don't be. It's actually a good sign."
"What do you mean?" Tifa spoke first, "Why is that a good sign?"
Cloud was glad she'd asked the question. He had noticed the colour of his… stuff, but had just shrugged it away more concerned with getting into the shower and washing it off, and there was no way was he going to say his jizz had been tinted green—not in front of Tifa. Gods! How embarrassing would that be?
"It means his body is trying to find its natural mako balance." Both the young fighters looked baffled at Doctor Imeera's response. She sighed; sorry she'd brought it up. It had been a long couple of days what with the mission, the examinations and then having to analyze Hojo's 'records' of what he'd done to those two poor young boys. The fight at the airfield had been the perfect cap to a stressful forty-two hours.
"Everyone has a certain amount of mako in their bodies," the doctor explained, "For the most part, it's based on where they live but each person will have more or less than each other person. Science didn't know why until recently, mostly because Professor Bugenhagen's research was being suppressed. Now we know mako is the Lifestream therefore it is in everything living on the planet, at least until its material form dissolves. That means we eat it, we drink it, and we breathe it, every moment of every day. As an example, when people move from one area to another they will often suffer headaches, nausea, and diarrhoea, until their body adjusts to the new ambient levels." Doctor Imeera looked up to see if they were following. Both Cloud and Tifa nodded; it was a common phenomenon.
The doctor nodded once in return and went on with her explanation, "In normal everyday life people's mako levels don't spike enough to cause serious symptoms but addicts who switch between mako-based drugs and SOLDIERs receiving their injections very often do, or did. There's no effective treatment for mako poisoning so we wait, weeks, months, even years, as the body slowly, but naturally, finds its own tolerance level. All we can do is ensure that symptoms don't worsen into vomiting, diarrhoea, excessive perspiration and uncontrollable urination—all effects of the body trying to rid itself of the excess mako." She let out a breath, "
Cloud wiped self-consciously at his brow. He looked at his damp fingers seeing the colour the doctor was talking about. He rubbed his fingers around in it before scrubbing it off on his pants. "Are you saying that's what I have to look forward to?" the blond asked. His wings spread out in response to his agitation.
"Quite frankly, I no longer know what you should expect. Your levels go beyond mild overdose into lethal toxicity. You should be catatonic at the minimum, as you essentially were yesterday, but today, less than twenty-four hours later, you're conscious and in full control of yourself. The only sign of what you are working through is the mako in your perspiration turning it green. I imagine most of your body's secretions will be mako-green for quite some time. However, as long as you don't start to convulse or froth at the mouth, you should be good. Eat fresh food—fruits and vegetables especially, drink lots of water, and shower frequently so the secreted mako isn't re-absorbed through your skin." She leaned forward as if to emphasize her next words, "If you feel dizzy, lie down. If the dizziness doesn't go away or you get stabbing pains in the base of your neck, or if your vision blurs then sharpens irregularly, come to the medical tent right away, and I mean immediately." She sat back and picked up her canteen. "If you weren't from Nibelheim, you'd probably be a bio-hazard," she muttered into the neck before taking a quick drink. "Any questions?"
Cloud and Tifa looked at each other. Cloud didn't know if he had questions for her. Hells, he still hadn't decided if he should trust what the doctor was saying. Before he could figure it out, Tifa spoke up, "Why does being from Nibelheim make such a difference?"
The doctor stopped, stared. "Right, you wouldn't know," she said cryptically. She continued before either of the fighters could comment. "Because we know everyone from this valley has-had," she corrected, "naturally high levels of mako as compared to the rest of the population. 'High' as in two to three times as much. It probably gave him an edge when it comes to surviving being overdosed, just as it gave you an edge earlier."
Tifa scoffed, "I don't have wings and I can't fly."
"The Jenova virus is what gives a person wings, not mako. As to the flying; I saw the fight with the Tsviets. The strength of your punches and the height of your jumps could only be achieved by being mako-enhanced."
"Fight?" Cloud turned to Tifa and asked.
"I'll tell you later," she promised once again. She turned her attention back to Imeera. "So I'm enhanced just because I'm from Nibelheim." It was obvious the young fighter was unconvinced by the explanation. To her, Nibelheim was just a small, backward village that had barely entered the modern world, not the birthplace of super survivors.
Doctor Imeera didn't quite sigh but she did rub her temple. "It's hard to explain…"
Cloud looked at the doctor. A memory came forward. Of him touching bare skin, desperately trying to maintain the contact, because– "I could block out Jenova's voice. That was before Hojo got hold of me," Cloud pointed out to Tifa. "You did the same thing."
"That's right. Anyone who was born or lived in Nibelheim could."
"It's that simple?" Cloud asked her sarcastically. His wings flicked in irritation. "I'm from Nibelheim so I can do wonders."
"Of course it's not that simple," the doctor responded tiredly. "Look, could we sit down and I'll tell you what we know and what we're guessing at; and maybe it will explain why you aren't suffering from mako poisoning or still lying in a coma."
Tifa turned to look at the blond, "Cloud?"
Did he want to know, could he handle knowing how inhuman he was? He decided he needed to know. "How much is me and how much is Jenova, can you answer that, Doctor?" he demanded. "Why am I not dead?"
"Now that's not simple," she warned. He just stared at her. "Alright, I'll do my best but it might get a little technical," she warned.
"We'll need another chair," Tifa said, shifting hers over for the doctor to use. Imeera sat down immediately with the air of someone whose feet hurt badly. She took a drink of water from her canteen then closed her eyes in quiet enjoyment.
Cloud picked his chair up off the ground and set it in front of Tifa. "I'll stand," he said. He could move more freely if he was standing, defend both of them more quickly. The dark-eyed fighter placed it so she was facing the doctor with Cloud at her back, and sat down. Tifa leaned forward and said "You were saying that we weren't normal."
Cloud clenched his jaw in unconscious reaction. Being abnormal was dangerous. Scientists liked to dissect things that weren't normal. He reminded himself that he wasn't in the lab any more. He wasn't tied up or drugged up and it wasn't just Zack and him anymore. They would fight and Tifa would fight for him, so would the General. He wasn't alone. Breathing steadily, he relaxed enough to bring his wings in a bit closer to his body; no longer a threat, just ready… in case.
The doctor watched the young soldier with a wary eye. She wouldn't run—she wasn't that foolish, but ducking and covering would hopefully minimize the damage if the corporal chose to attack. When his wings folded in she took a breath and began, "Let's start with Jenova, since she came first."
The doctor leaned forward slightly and clasped her hands in front of her, "We don't actually know where the Jenova virus came from. It could be from outer space—that's certainly what the Ancients believed. You both know what DNA is?" she stopped to ask and received two nods in return. "Alright then the virus attacks the DNA of the host body, attaching itself to it and mutating it to match its own structure instead of the original genome. Once the mutation has reached a certain saturation point, approximately fifteen per cent of the body's total cellular structure, then it can be passed to others through the exchange of fluids. It's believed that the infected cells 'communicate' with each other, passing each other energy and instructions so that they will mutate more rapidly. This supports the extraterrestrial virus theory as nothing on Gaia does this."
"This is the simple explanation?" Cloud was feeling sick. They knew all those things because they'd done them to living creatures—maybe even other human beings. They'd injected them with the Jenova virus then watched and measured and waited. He had pictures in his head of the experiments they would have done and how it would look. He'd seen it in the lab so his voice, when he asked, was a little angry and a little contemptuous. His wing tips flicked in time with his agitation
"Unfortunately, yes," her answer was short and held no apology. Cloud narrowed his eyes at the tone but kept his mouth shut. He had asked, after all, but he didn't have to like it—or her, so he crossed his arms and denied any empathy he might feel for the doctor.
"Once saturation reaches thirty per cent there are external indications of infection," the doctor continued, "They are often the 'desirable' mutations: increased speed, strength, healing, etc. It is this level that SOLDIER strives to achieve and maintain. However, the host will be more vulnerable in other ways because the virus in one body can 'hear' the virus in another body over much greater distances." That explained the Firsts' awareness of General Sephiroth's location that Zack had told him about, Cloud thought but didn't say. "This 'communication' encourages the virus to continue replicating itself and infecting more and more DNA and RNA strands. Once the ratio reaches forty per cent the changes are extreme and often fatal. Vital organs become misshapen, withered or hyperactive; bones dissolve, or enlarge and twist upon themselves. Anything above fifty percent is one hundred per cent lethal. At least, without mako it's lethal."
"My specialty was in the ways mako interacts with the Jenova virus. We know, from the work done on the SOLDIER program and other research, that higher than normal levels of mako are needed to balance and control the virus. Not enough mako, and the virus takes over and the subject mutates like I described before. Too much mako and the virus is eradicated. So the balance of mako to virus is very important in creating a subject that's both viable and enhanced."
"Where does being from Nibelheim come into it?" Tifa asked.
"We're getting there," Doctor Imeera responded. "Mako has been used in science and medicine for nearly two hundred years but mining it was difficult and dangerous so it wasn't available in quantity until Robert Shinra, Rufus' grandfather, came up with a processing plant that could mine the raw mako and then convert it into something safer to handle. That was about eighty years ago. Nibelheim had one of the first processors because the liquid mako was close to the surface so it was easier to access and cheaper to refine."
"We know this," Cloud interrupted again, "It's taught in elementary school."
Doctor Imeera lifted her gaze to his. "Patience," she said. Her eyes didn't flinch away. Cloud's wings rustled before he once again got them settled.
"When they built the plant in the valley, they didn't know what the hells they were doing, or what they were dealing with, not really. The plant didn't have many safety features: no regulators or even monitoring systems. They were used to dealing with small, controlled quantities of mako not rivers of it. They had no way of knowing what materials to use in the construction or what the flow should be. Nibelheim taught them a lot."
"It was another experiment," Tifa commented angrily.
"Not deliberately, not at first. The original construction notes are very clear; they thought it would be safe because the village was over a mountain and quite a distance from the processing plant. They didn't take into consideration the water."
"The water," Tifa repeated enlightened. There'd always been something weird about the water in Nibelheim.
The doctor nodded, "The water. Before they built the plant, the mako stream was here," she held out her hand, "and the water, surface and ground, was here," she held out her other hand parallel to the first, "but they needed water for cooling and such, so they diverted it to the plant. They used it, contaminating it with mako; then pumped it out into huge tailing ponds to be reprocessed and cleaned. In theory at least," she stopped and clasped her hands together in front of her. "In reality, faulty design and poor maintenance meant the contaminated water was often flushed into the surrounding area. This altered the phenomic genetic structure of everything in the valley, including that of the villagers. Phenomic means the changes were passed on to the next generation and the next. Over the course of eighty years, nearly four generations of Nibelheimers were ingesting significant amounts of refined mako. Each generation had a higher base level than the one previous and each generation added to it until the average level of mako in a typical Nibelheimer was nearly equal to that of a SOLDIER Third Class. They were healthier, stronger and more resilient than any other non-altered group on the planet."
"We never got that flu that the army brought back from Wutai," Tifa said softly. She knew people in the next town who'd lost two-thirds of their family because of the influenza epidemic that followed the first Wutai war. Nibelhiem had had one death; a delivery driver who'd collapsed outside the store.
"I imagine no one in the village suffered from colds either." The doctor paused for another drink and Cloud saw, for the first time, how tired she looked. It wasn't just a physical tiredness, either; it was the mental exhaustion that came from having seen and heard too much of the world's ugliness. She put down the canteen and continued, "It wasn't until ShinRa had the mansion built in Nibelheim—ironically to prove how safe the new reactors were, that they realized the effect it was having on the population. The research facility was built soon after and the scientists were brought in."
"I always wondered why they had such a big lab here," Cloud commented, "I mean... this was Nibelheim."
"One telephone, one TV set... the most exciting thing going was the dart league in the bar at the inn," Tifa agreed.
The doctor ignored the interruption as irrelevant. She wanted to finish this and then sleep for the next four years, although she'd settle for four hours uninterrupted. "When Professor Gast discovered Jenova encased in solid mako, Nibelheim was chosen because of its isolated facilities. As it turned out, that was—well, either lucky or unlucky depending on your point view, but it was amazingly serendipitous that Hojo was able to study the mako-enriched locals and the alien virus at the same time. There's no doubt that the dual research is what led to his SOLDIER breakthrough."
"And that was a good thing?" Cloud asked sarcastically.
Doctor Imeera looked steadily at him, not flinching. "I've read your file, Corporal—all of it. Tell me, why did you join ShinRa?" Cloud shifted uncomfortably. For some reason, at this moment she made him feel like he was talking back to his mother. "Wasn't it to become a SOLDIER?"
"But it was built on a lie," he protested, "President Shinra didn't want heroes, he just wanted tools that he could use to crush his opposition."
"Just because ShinRa lied to them, doesn't make everything they did a lie," the doctor countered. "SOLDIERs protected towns and settlements. They helped with disaster relief and rescue missions. Your friend, Commander Fair, worked to keep the people under Midgar's plate safe from monsters. They were the poorest and most despised of the city's population and he received no recognition for it, but he did it, because he believed that's what SOLDIERs should do. And he wasn't the only one to feel that way." She sighed dispiritedly and rubbed at her temple as if she had a headache. It was the first outward sign of what she was really feeling. It made him feel a little guilty for being so hard on her and he realized that she hadn't shied away from his anger, not once. He shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with himself until she looked up at him and asked, "What is wrong with inspiring others to dream of something larger, better, than themselves?"
It was such an esoteric question from the stoic, no-nonsense doctor that Cloud was taken aback. His jaw dropped and his arms fell to his side. He didn't know what to say. There were things he wanted to say but, once again, he didn't know how to phrase them. He never had been good at instantly thinking of witty comebacks.
Tifa twisted in her chair and looked up at him. She smiled sadly, "You wanted to be a hero and I dreamed of being... not worthy of you, but equal to you. So I trained with Master Zangan, despite what my father and the others said. You were trying your hardest. Could I do any less?"
Cloud blushed and shuffled his feet. Actually, he'd just wanted to be acknowledged as a person. Make them all feel bad for belittling him or pretending he didn't exist. Even Tifa had often ignored him during the day depending on who was around. Then she'd sneak out at night to talk to him—a dirty secret she had to hide. He would never have gotten beyond being 'that weirdo Strife' if he'd stayed in Nibelheim. Dreaming of becoming a SOLDIER had given him the strength to leave. Dreaming of one day standing beside General Sephiroth as one of them—one of the elite, had kept him trying even when he failed the SOLDIER exam. Dreams had kept him alive for the last three years. So maybe the original intent behind SOLDIER hadn't been honourable or noble, but his dreams, his very survival, had come out of it… at least a little.
Plus he'd met some of the med-techs back in Midgar, and even here, and they hadn't been evil; just people doing their jobs to the best of their ability. Not everyone who worked in a lab was like Hojo. He looked up at the doctor, patiently waiting for him to decide… what ever it was he was deciding which was, he supposed, whether to storm out in a rage, or to stay and listen.
"What level is the virus at in my system?" he asked.
Doctor Imeera huffed, humourlessly, "Nearly sixty per cent. Commander Fair is over fifty. Both of you are, impossibly, stable. The virus is not increasing or mutating or taking control of either of your bodies. Even General Sephiroth's system isn't as stable. Although," she mused almost to herself, "if you two begin sexual relations, as camp gossip has you doing, then by exchanging body fluids you might be able to stabilize his cells as you did Commander Fair's."
Cloud's eyes widened in shock—he couldn't believe she'd said that out loud... in front of Tifa, his childhood crush. His wings curled around protectively hiding the face he knew was red as a cherry. It didn't matter that he was an adult now, a survivor of experiments that hadn't allowed for any modesty. The doctor was discussing his sex life, casually revealing secrets and hinting at details... in front of Tifa!
And, was she suggesting he have sex with the General in order to stabilize his cells? How. Fucking. Embarrassing. The woman was an automaton, he decided.... and he'd be really happy if the General returned to sweep them away from this discussion right fucking now.
"You and the Commander were intimate while you were imprisoned, weren't you?" the doctor asked oblivious, or maybe indifferent, to Cloud's embarrassment. "I'd be surprised if the two of you didn't turn to each other for comfort."
Maybe not so inhuman after all, Cloud conceded, but he still couldn't say it. Not in front of Tifa.
The fighter looked up him, correctly reading his red-faced shuffling. She blushed too, because the image of blond and black, light and dark, moving together was completely hot, but she also smiled because that meant that not everything her friend had gone through was horrible. "I think he's too shy to admit it."
"Ah," the doctor said, "I'm sorry. It just seemed the most reasonable explanation for the similarities in the behaviour of your cells."
When it was quiet, Cloud discovered, he could hear the work-crews out at the airfield, busily filling in holes.
"So-o," Tifa said, breaking the silence and very obviously changing the topic to something they'd all be more comfortable with, "the slow exposure to mako over generations could explain how Nibelheimers blocked the virus' communications except Cloud's mother was from Kalm."
"My father wasn't," Cloud said. "He worked at the reactor like his dad before him. He met my mother when he went to the university to study fluid dynamics. When he came back she came with him."
"Really?" the dark-eyed fighter asked in disbelief.
Cloud nodded, "We lived at the compound until my dad died. ShinRa wouldn't let us stay there after, because Mom didn't work for them, and they wouldn't pay for her to move back to Kalm. The pension they paid was a joke and there wasn't any work for an academic librarian in Nibelheim. The cottage was the best she could afford."
Tifa was amazed, stunned, that she'd never known. Had she ever even asked Cloud? She looked down at her feet, embarrassed and ashamed.
Cloud saw it and, just as she had known what he was thinking, he knew what she was feeling, "I wouldn't have told you even if you'd asked. It was safer not to tell because folks in Nibelheim didn't like people from ShinRa—or educated types." Tifa's shoulders stayed slumped and Cloud knew she was beating herself up for not being a better friend. One day she'd realize that their lives in Nibelheim were like some alternate world where they were friends and almost lovers, but those lives really had nothing to do with this one where they hardly knew each other and their 'friendship' was really just nostalgia. Until then, it was nice to have someone else to trust. He put a hand on her shoulder in support and went back to the original subject.
"How does that explain being able to block Jenova? From what you said, with the concentration of virus in my body, I should be able to hear her from the moon or something."
"Except that your system insulates the infected strands. That's the Nibelheim variation. The Jenova mutations take place but, it appears that your body, hmm," she frowned, obviously unable to describe the next bit to her satisfaction. Cloud raised a brow; was the lady doctor finally getting angry? "It's not the best phrase but it'll have to do," she muttered. "Your body essentially 'kills' the active parts of the virus, leaving the mutations in place but not allowing it to spread anymore. You might still be vulnerable to her control, but you'd likely have to be in the same room as her; within a few metres at the very least. It should also prevent the mutation from spreading," she narrowed her eyes in thought, "Maybe even reverse the process although that might be problematical."
"You want to cure SOLDIERs?" Cloud realized. "Why?"
Doctor Imeera leaned back in her chair, looking at him with weary eyes, "The boys who signed up to be SOLDIER didn't agree to being changed into something that isn't human. Heroes, yes. Monsters, no. Some of them dream of being normal again, meeting someone nice and maybe having a family. If I can help them achieve that it would be a good thing, wouldn't it?"
"So that's your dream?" Tifa asked brightly.
The doctor smiled without humour, "Me? I dream of finally having an undisturbed sleep." She looked at her watch, "and, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to the med-tent and try and do that." She stood up, cutting off any more questions they might have. "Remember the symptoms to watch out for, Corporal, and if you need anything we will do our best to help you—either of you."
"But–" Cloud started. Suddenly he wanted to know more. All the questions he hadn't been able to think of before tumbled around in his brain wanted to be asked. Then he felt it, like a wave of energy; Sephiroth was coming.
The future was about to get a lot closer.