Vincent would have liked to be smug about the security camera footage. The dairy building did indeed have a rickety old security camera pointed at the loading docks. The altercation between Nero and the night patrol had happened just inside its range. Although the footage was grainy black and white, it showed clearly all the proof they needed. Dixon had been right. Avery had shot first. How he had missed Nero at such close range was a miracle as well as a mystery. While this cleared Nero of one charge, there were still others to sort out. Whether or not he'd escape punishment entirely was not a given. He would remain in the WRO brig until he was cleared or sentenced. Which meant Vincent only had so much time to figure out what to do with him if the charges were dropped.

Their first attempt to release Nero into the wild had ended badly, and there was no reason to think the same thing wouldn't happen again. He'd either end up killing someone else, overdosing on mako, or just starving to death- possibly all three. It didn't seem fair. Nero might be a living weapon trained to kill, but he didn't feel like one. The problem was, Vincent could not have even said why. Gut instincts were usually trustworthy, but it would take more than his stomach to convince Veld that they should find a place for the poor kid.

Part of the problem was that Nero's behavior made no sense. The shrink had cleared him. Nero wasn't mentally unstable, but he had been heavily conditioned. Admittedly it wasn't the WRO's responsibility to reprogram him. He didn't seem to fully appreciate what was happening to him. Vincent thought back to the hospital, and Nero's slip of the tongue when he'd asked about the restraints. The boy had thought he was going to be dissected. Vincent shuddered, not wanting to think about what might have prompted such an assumption. However, it proved his point. Nero was interpreting his situation differently than everyone around him. What they needed was a translator, but who among the refugees could interpret for Nero? Most of them were terrified of him. No one would want to come within fifty feet of his cell.

An idea clicked to life in Vincent's mind as memory pinged.

Or would they?

Fumbling with his PHS, Vincent hurried from his office. Texting would warn her he was coming, and if she wasn't in her office, he would go to meet with her and share his idea.

ooo

"Nero's alive?" The look on Shelke's face was a mix of disbelief and joy. To be honest, Vincent had not expected such a reaction.

"Where is he?" she went on. "Is he okay?"

"He's...fine," Vincent answered. "Down in the brig." Shelke stared at him, eyes wide. Vincent sighed. "It's a long story."

"O-kay…" she drawled. Vincent did his best to give her the short version, leaving out some of the finer details, like the bits about Nero starving and suffering a case of mako poisoning.

"We can prove that he didn't start the fight," Vincent finished, "but I don't know if it will be enough. He's dangerous in a way that most of the refugees aren't. They might have been SOLDIERs but they're not Tsviets. You were. I was hoping you could help."

Shelke blinked. "Me? How could I help?"

"You...speak his language," Vincent said, for lack of a better way to put it. "I don't think he really gets what's happening, or what kinds of consequences he's facing. I know we're missing things whenever he tries to tell us something, which admittedly isn't often. Even if you just sat and watched on the other side of the glass while he's being questioned I'm sure it would be a big help."

"Okay," she agreed. Vincent blinked. He hadn't thought it would be that easy. "Can I see him? Now?"

Vincent smiled. "Sure."

ooo

"Nero!" Shelke's smile was wide and radiant as she entered the interrogation room. Nero was not cuffed, but had his arms crossed over his chest as was his habit. Upon her entrance, he stood up and stared.

"Shelke!"

She darted toward him and then stopped short, clasping her hands behind her back. Her smile had vanished, or rather, it was hiding, just barely there, tugging at the corners of her mouth. Nero lowered himself to his knees so that they were nearly eye-level. It was impossible to tell if he were smiling or not, but his eyes spoke volumes.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered, voice breaking. Shelke stepped forward, not quite into his space, and inclined her head. Nero mirrored the gesture, leaning toward her and lowering his head until their foreheads touched. They might have been sharing a secret, but neither of them spoke, just held the pose for a space of a few heartbeats before each retreating to their own space.

"Are the others with you?" Nero asked.

Shelke shook her head. "No, sorry. They're not with you?"

"No," Nero said sadly. "I can't look for them from in here. I'm worried."

"It'll be okay," she assured him. "We'll find them. We just need to get you out of here first. How the heck did you manage this anyway?"

Even behind the mask, Nero's expression was sheepish. "Eh, you know me. If there's a way to screw it up, I'll find it."

"Tell me?"

After a moment, Nero nodded. "Okay."

Rising to his feet, he went over to the bench pushed against the wall opposite the window of one-way glass. Standing, he was more than twice Shelke's size. Although they were the same age, Shelke barely stood taller than his elbow. Hands still gripping his shoulders, Nero sat down on the bench. Shelke hopped up and sat down next to him. There was plenty of room, but she parked herself close enough that her arm and thigh touched his. For a moment they just sat there, saying nothing, not even looking at each other. On the other side of the glass, Veld crossed his own arms over his chest in thought.

"What even was that?" Vincent asked, not truly expecting an answer. "She was so excited when I told her. Now it's like...I don't know."

"It's weird," Veld agreed. "It's like they're afraid to touch. I could understand that from Nero. Shelke's such a tiny little thing, he might be afraid he'll break her."

They both fell silent as Shelke spoke up.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said softly, voice thick with emotion. "I was so worried about you- all of you. I was so afraid…" she trailed off and swallowed hard. "It's my fault Deepground fell. I helped Vincent, I didn't try to stop Chaos from defeating Omega. Everything's in ruins because of me. I just… I just wanted you to be free. I thought that if we could defeat Omega, the Restrictors, that things would change. Things would be better. Instead I just got everyone killed."

"Not everyone got killed," Nero said, his voice so gentle that it made Vincent blink. "I'm still here. So are you. I know Weiss and Rosso are out there, so are Azul and Argento. They're tough, they're all way stronger than the two of us. They're fine. Probably out looking for me before I can get in any more trouble."

This made Shelke giggle though she barely cracked a smile. "You're stronger than you think you are."

"I dunno…"

"You are," Shelke insisted, "or you wouldn't be here now."

"Neither would you."

Silence stretched as the two of them just sat there.

"Did you ever find your sister?" Nero asked.

"Yes," Shelke said, allowing herself a brief smile. "Yes I did."

"That's so great!" The words contrasted sharply with Nero's neutral expression and static posture. "I'm so happy you found her. I bet she was happy to see you."

"She was. She's really nice. I'll have to introduce you."

"You don't think she'll be scared of me?"

Shelke shook her head. "Nah, she's a doctor. Nothing scares her."

"I wonder what that's like," Nero mused so softly that the words were barely audible, "to not be scared."

Shelke leaned against him ever so slightly. "Everybody gets scared."

Nero shook his head. "Not everybody."

"They know we can hear them, right?" Vincent asked.

Veld shrugged. "Do you know if they were an item in Deepground?"

Vincent shot Veld a confused look. "You think?"

"Well, look at 'em," Veld nodded at the mirrored pane of glass. "They know they're being watched and they're acting like it; like they've got something to hide. More decorum in there than in my grandma's parlour."

"Shelke only looks like she's twelve," Vincent reminded him. "They're around the same age. There's no reason to keep a relationship a secret unless they think someone wouldn't approve."

"Maybe somebody didn't approve down there?" Veld suggested, which seemed a more likely reason.

"You don't have to be scared," Shelke said into the silence. "Nobody up here cares. They go real easy on you; stern talking-to, slap on the wrist. No one's gonna take your mask away."

Nero actually turned to look at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I'm serious," Shelke insisted calmly. "They don't do stuff like that up here."

"What do they do?" he asked.

"They've already done it." She gestured broadly at the interrogation room. "Lock you up, take your stuff away, keep you in one place where they can see you. That's about it, really."

Nero was incredulous. "But that's nothing! You're telling me that two dead soldiers is a major offense, but this is the worst they can do?"

Shelke shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah. Also, I heard that wasn't your fault."

"I was them or me," he said flatly. A pause. "They're not… They're not gonna take it out on you, are they?"

Vincent shivered. There had been real, raw, honest fear in Nero's words. Beside him, Veld's gawk of surprise sank into a scowl.

"No," Shelke told him, leaning against him a bit more. "No, they won't. That's not how they do things up here."

From the troubled look in his eyes, Nero didn't fully believe her.

"I've never lied to you," Shelke went on. "I know you'd never lie to me. My sister, the WRO, they've been really kind, and not because they want something from me."

Nero thought for a minute, turning her words over in his head.

It occurred to Vincent that Shelke might be choosing her words for himself and Veld as much as she was for Nero. What was she trying to tell them?

"He's scared," Veld mused.

"Back at the hospital, he started to ask if he was going to be dissected," Vincent said. Veld looked at him sharply.

"He caught himself," Vincent went on. "I don't know if he self-censored the terminology, or if he thought he ought not to let on that he knows as much as he does."

Veld was still staring at him. "He thought he was going to be cut open for study?"

Vincent shrugged. "I think so. I thought I'd heard him wrong, but I'm pretty sure that's what he meant."

"And unless I heard that wrong, he thinks Shelke might be punished for what he did," Veld murmured, mostly to himself. "The hell would he think that?"

The guard assigned to convey Nero to and from the interview rapped on the door then opened it. At once Shelke and Nero shoved away from each other, six inches of bare wood seeming to appear between them as if by magic.

"Time's up," he announced.

"I'll come see you," Shelke promised. "It'll be okay. You won't be in here for long. I'll help you look for them."

"Thank you," Nero told her, standing to follow the guard out the door. Shelke stood there silently, watching as the door closed behind him. Without a word, she sank down onto the bench again, arms crossed over her middle.

"You alright?" Vincent asked, entering the interrogation room with Veld right behind.

Shelke's head jerked up and she promptly unfolded herself. "What? Yeah. Fine."

Veld tilted his head, eyeing her. "What's this?"

He brushed at something on her shoulder. The object- coal black and no bigger than a tea bag- fluttered and flitted off her shoulder, revealing itself in the bright light of the overhead lamp before vanishing into smoke: a butterfly. Swallowing hard, Shelke smiled.

"What was that?" Vincent asked.

"A cave moth," Shelke replied. "I told him once that I thought they were pretty. They...got to be a signal, a code of sorts. It means he's thinking about me."

"Were the two of you an item in Deepground?" Veld asked. Shelke stared at him, expression utterly blank.

"What? No. I was a JANE."

"A wha-?" Veld began, but Vincent interrupted.

"A female trooper. Some women could handle the mako and Jenova treatments. Shelke was one of them."

"Yes," Shelke nodded. "That's why I'm so short. You get weird side effects sometimes. There were a couple of other women who stopped growing before they should have."

"Why is being a JANE significant?" Veld asked.

"Well, JANE's aren't usually viewed as romantic partners," Shelke explained. "Romance was kind of discouraged down there. Actually, any sort of display of emotion was heavily frowned upon. I like Nero fine, but we were never a couple. I haven't been a Tsviet that long, so I don't know him as well as I knew my old squadmates."

"So is that why the two of you barely looked at each other?"

Shelke blushed minutely. "Yeah. Old habits. You had to find work-arounds that wouldn't draw the attention of the higher-ups or the Restrictors. Anything that involves your hands is generally a bad idea. If it just looks like you're talking, normally they'll leave you alone."

"Is that why he keeps his arms like this?" Vincent mimicked Nero's posture, crossing his arms over his chest and gripping his shoulders with his hands.

"Kind of," she replied. "His uniform had extra-long sleeves like a straitjacket. Every time he used his hands, he tended to warp stuff into the shadows, so after a while, they made it so he couldn't use his hands. He had a rig with mechanical hands on it, looked like the skeleton of a bat's wings."

Vincent nodded, a somewhat vague memory brightening a little at the description. "I think I remember that."

"He's actually got way more control than he thinks. A lot more. I've seen him do all sorts of things when he thought no one else was looking, or when it was just the colored Tsviets. When he's scared or nervous, it's harder for him to reign them in, which makes sense. The Restrictors didn't like it when he used his shadows…"

"Shelke," said Vincent, "is it going to be possible for Nero to live here? I can see I really don't understand what he's talking about most of the time, and he clearly doesn't understand me. What can I do to help?"

Shelke shifted nervously in her seat. "I don't know," she confessed. "Azul and I...we'd tell them about the surface sometimes. I wanted so much to go home, but I never thought it would actually happen. Deepground's...really different. It's inside-out and backwards compared to up here. I'm not really sure how to explain it."

Chewing her lower lip, she glanced at the door that had closed behind Nero only moments ago.

"I can't tell you his story," she said slowly, "but I can tell you mine. I was taken from my sister when I was nine. I was smart enough to impress somebody and even though women aren't permitted in SOLDIER, Deepground was still running trials with female troops. Adult women and Jenova don't mix, but sometimes it'll stick if the treatments are administered before puberty hits. Like I said, it can result in weird side-effects, so me and a couple of other girls never physically made it past twelve.

"We were trained in combat and strategy, sneaking, spying, and generally being ruthless. I never expected to make Tsviet, but I did my best to make myself valuable. I guess it worked, because I got promoted when I was seventeen- not as a combatant, but as support staff. I was a spotter and communications officer for the other bigger, stronger Tsviets. Once I made rank, I was expected to train, and allowed to hang out with them."

Shelke paused for breath. What she had told them was nothing they didn't already know. Sighing deeply, she thought for a moment.

"You're not...human, down there," she began. "Not a person, just a thing. It wasn't like the standard army, or even like Corel prison. The Restrictors controlled everyone and everything. Everyone had a microchip that forced them to be compliant and kept them from escaping. Everyone was afraid of them, even the Tsviets.

"Nobody cared what happened to the grunts, the rookies, the weaker soldiers, the JANEs. Someone was always on your case; verbally, physically, emotionally, psychologically… The other JANEs and I tried to look out for each other but…" trailing off, she shrugged.

"Shelke," Veld broke in gently, "are you saying you were attacked?"

"At least once a week," she said wryly. "Success rates varied."

"Was Nero attacked?" Vincent asked.

Shelke shook her head. "I only knew him as an adult and a Tsviet. We didn't interact at all before that. I can't imagine too many people were dumb enough to come after him. The words 'dark mako' are enough to terrify most people."

"Dixon mentioned that he looked out for his troops- or tried to," Vincent commented.

"As much as he could, yeah," Shelke agreed. "That was something else you had to be careful about. It didn't pay to have the Restrictors think you have favorites. If they thought you were asserting your dominance or authority, that was fine. If they found out you liked somebody...that didn't end well."

"How do you mean?" Veld prompted.

Shelke repressed a shudder and took a deep breath. "They didn't do it with the troops so much, but the Tsviets…" She had to stop and compose herself again. Reaching, Vincent took her hand and she gripped his fingers tightly.

"I don't know what they did, exactly," Shelke began, voice so small it was almost inaudible. "I just saw what happened afterward. The Colored Tsviets...they're hard to make a dent in. The Restrictors were pretty big on corporal punishment. The only difference was, they wouldn't punish the Tsviets directly."

Steeling herself, she pushed on. "They sent Rosso out to stop you. She was supposed to kill you, but you summoned Chaos and rather than stay and be eaten alive, she ran. It was the smarter thing to do, but the Restrictors didn't think so. She failed her mission, so she had to be punished. Rosso's weird side-effect is that she can't feel pain and Weiss is insanely strong, so the usual sort of punishments wouldn't work on them."

"What happened?" Veld prompted gently, resting a hand on her shoulder."

"Because Rosso failed, they took it out on Nero. We had to stand there and watch while he tried to breathe without his mask."

Vincent swallowed back acid as Veld asked: "How long?"

Shelke shook her head. "I don't know. Probably not more than a few minutes, but it felt like forever. It's the only time I've ever seen Rosso cry."

She took a shuddering breath. "They're not bad people. Azul, Nero, Weiss, Rosso... they just...the place they live in. The only thing the Restrictors have to use against them is their feelings for each other. They do care about each other, even if they don't know what to call it. They have hearts. They have souls. They're people and…" Her words broke off with a sharp sob and she hid her face in her hands.

"Thank you, Shelke," Veld told her, rubbing her shoulder. "I know that couldn't have been easy. Thank you for telling us."

Sniffing, Shelke wiped her face with her hands. "I'm okay. "Really."

"You gonna be okay?" Vincent asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," she insisted. "Can I see Nero again? If that's okay? I want to help him if I can."

Veld smiled. "Of course."