Part III Chapter VII

Investigations and Frogs

Heidegger was talking. The short, broad man stood in front of him but not even the high wooden desk could disguise the rumpled, uneven state of the green uniform. He'd been yanked out of bed too. Probably by the Turks. Or security. It happened a while ago, given the two or three empty coffee cups that'd missed the trash bin next to the desk. Heidegger wasn't much of a coffee guzzler, he took his time.

In the back of his mind Zack giggled, And Seph says I don't pay attention to details.

Anything to keep his mind off the reason he was here. The reason his promotion had just been rammed through the system.

"Are you listening to me Fair?"

"To be honest? No sir." He was momentarily pleased with the utterly flummoxed look that his superior gave him after that, before the weight of the situation came back. "I'm still puzzling through the fact that General Sephiroth is missing."

Oh look, he was mad. The Head of Public Safety sucked in a breath, nostrils flaring, and drew himself up to an impressive 5'1", "Fair, don't test me. I may have promoted you to deal with the situation, but I am still your superior!"

"And you told me to deal with the security breech." Zack reminded him, and indulged in a mental pat on the back when Heidegger flinched. That had been during the tirade he'd just admitted to not listening to. "I can't shore up holes in the guard patrols if I don't know which ones were taken advantage of. I need to know the whens, the wheres, and the hows, sir." Not to mention, if he could get his hands on that information he could piece together the whys, and then the 'where the heck is he now's. He'd been hoping for news of Sephiroth all week, though he'd have preferred to see the silver general himself. This wasn't exactly what he wanted.

He'd stumbled into the office, mind a whir with every little conclusion his thoughts had been snatching at with the news he was promoted. As second in command, there was only one position he could take. It was the one he didn't want because that meant something had happened to Sephiroth.

They wouldn't even tell him at first. Nothing more than a quick snap to get to his-Seph's -office and get to work on the guard patrols, the Turks would be by later to get a report.

Zack hadn't even thought about it. He'd barricaded the door and demanded to know where his superior was. He'd been dealing with this all week and he deserved to know dammit.

And all he got was he is missing!

"Not to mention if there is something out there, able to incapacitate the General I very well need to know about it, don't I?" Zack was doing his best to keep it professional. His version at least. He had half a mind to take a leaf out of Seph's book and start threatening that 'Heads Will Roll'.

…on second thought, it wouldn't have the same effect. Zack was a puppy to Seph's Doberman, and he knew that.

A puppy with teeth larger than the man in front of him. He might not be able to match Seph in pure intimidation, but the Buster Sword was really helpful in getting his point across.

"Witness testimony states that the General was kidnapped." A cool voice came from behind Zack, and the SOLDIER glanced toward it. Tseng stood in the doorway, blue suit impeccable, the Wutaian Turk was eyeing the slab of metal wedged diagonally in the frame, "Would you consider…?"

Zack shrugged, grabbing the handle on his sword and yanking it out of the wood. He saw Heidegger eyeing the groove the blade left in the lacquered frame, pleased when the executive glanced imploringly at the Turk.

Tseng stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind him, cutting off Heidegger's hopes for escape. Zack stepped to the side to allow Tseng to approach the desk, but didn't put away his sword. Instead he hefted it onto his shoulder, letting the tip scratch the ceiling. Heidegger squirmed. Zack was starting to understand why Sephiroth enjoyed this so much.

"We've finished questioning the troopers who responded to the disturbance on the 66th floor," Tseng seemed to want to act like Zack wasn't there, making his report directly to Heidegger. Since he hadn't been chased out of the room Zack settled in to listen.

"A member of the custodial staff sent the alarm when the window on the floor above him was shattered, raining glass down on him and the scaffolding. The troopers who responded to the call reported seeing a man in a SOLDIER uniform land on the metal scaffolding before disappearing into a flash of green light." Tseng paused, frowned, "The magic detection equipment on the outside of the building determined it to be an Exit materia. We have measures set up to prevent such modes of travel within the building; shall I tell the Science Department to work on extending the field?"

"Yes, yes of course. Get on with it."

Tseng nodded, "The intruder was estimated to be between 4'11" and 5'3". The unconscious form of the general was thrown over one shoulder. Aside from the uniform, which was that of a SOLDIER 2nd based on the color, a reliable description was unable to be attained." Tseng looked the slightest bit annoyed at that. Zack rocked back on his heels, startled. He hadn't realized that Sephiroth had been kidnapped for Planet's sake. And for someone a good foot shorter than the general carrying him…given the uniform Zack wasn't liking his conclusion.

"From the broken window, we back-tracked to the 68th floor and checked the security video." The Turk took a breath, "Sir, either the intruder returned and tampered with the security feed—and given the random aspect of an Exit materia that is unlikely—or we had a second breech. We could follow the gaps in the coverage up to the 68th floor, and then back down to the 66th, but the video was erased. Completely erased."

Meaning even the Turks' encrypted back-ups were gone, and they couldn't do their tech-magic to bring it back. Even Zack couldn't hack those, and he had a weekly habit of playing in the computer system. It required specific passcodes and procedures to access those files, and no one save for the Turk Leaders ever learned everything.

"General Fair." Zack snapped to attention; that sounded so wrong. Couldn't they have made him a lieutenant general instead? Tseng's voice was calm, but those Wutaian black eyes were glittering, "It would require mako modifications of at least a Third Class to transport the general in such a manner. I would like to request that you look into the personnel lists. Any suspicious absences in the past few weeks, and the following should be reported immediately."

"Excluding the General's?" Zack muttered, he saw the Turk's lips twitch before speaking up, "Do you know how the General…" He had an idea as it was. 68th floor. The labs.

Another twitch, though this one was more of a frown than amusement. He was lucky he had experience in reading Sephiroth or this would be a lot more difficult, "Given the…intensity of the General's reflexes, he must be sedated when undergoing medical treatment. For the safety of the caregiver. There is no reason to screen suspects based on fighting ability."

"Understood." His stomach twisted. Sephiroth, not even during the Wutai War, had needed anything more than bandages or maybe a splint. He just healed too damn fast. Hell, he'd seen the man take a sword through the gut, break a few ribs, have one of them puncture a lung, and be able to walk about freely the next day. He'd been fully healed and battle ready in a week. No need for surgery. And surgery was really the only thing a SOLIDER ever needed to be sedated for, since their bodies recognized the procedure as an attack.

He didn't doubt Sephiroth had been sedated. That would be the only way anyone would be able to transport the General without his consent. It was the reason that bothered Zack.

Sephiroth had been with Hojo. Hojo had Sephiroth sedated. Sephiroth had been MIA for a week and the Company hadn't cared. Now they were freaking.

"If you get a better description from the…doctor," it took a great deal of willpower to refrain from using other terms, "could you give it to me?"

Tseng inclined his head, "Of course."

Zack nodded, snapping his Buster Sword back into its harness. He gave Heidegger a distracted salute—funny, he'd almost completely forgotten about the man—and turned on his heel and left the office. He could hear Heidegger's voice rise in complaint as soon as he was out, but he didn't care right now.

He needed to find Sephiroth. Then he had to deal with Grant—Cloud is dead/not/dead/NOT THINKING ABOUT IT—and then he was going to do something about Hojo.

He didn't know what yet. But he was going to find out what the doctor was doing with his—general/superior/friend—and make sure it didn't happen again.

He was starting to lose faith in ShinRa. If he didn't like what he found, after all this was over…well…

He'd burn that bridge when he came to it.

Ow…Whatever that was, I don't want to do it again.

For once Cloud had been too tired to dream. There was nothing between his passing out and waking up again. Just the aches and pains of a body that knew that he'd pushed it too far, and it was going to make him pay for it.

Ow, ow, ow.

He hissed as he moved, stones and twigs rolling and scraping against hyper sensitive skin. The sun felt warm, too warm. Hot, muggy. Gongaga's eternal summer—not for the first time, Cloud was glad he wasn't wearing black. Red was bad enough as it was. Or leather. Even Sephiroth would roast.

Sephiroth…

Sephiroth hadn't budged an inch. He was in the exact position Cloud had left him in, on his back, arms at his side. Obviously whatever Hojo had used hadn't worn off yet.

Slowly, slowly Cloud shifted, moving about to study the comatose General. He didn't know what to do from here. He had planned on buying Sephiroth's cooperation with information about Lucrecia, and then convincing him to lay low for a while, as far from ShinRa as possible. Mideel maybe. Long enough to Cloud to figure something out about Jenova—he'd been toying with the idea of dropping her in the reactor again.

First things first, he supposed. Supplies, and then medical attention. The supplies were easy enough, Exit materia usually ended up near reactors or mako fountains, which meant the town was somewhere nearby. He didn't have much money but…Cloud lightly touched his bracer. The Exit was cool to the touch, unaffected by the sun's heat. Another green orb glittered next to it—Fire, he knew. It wasn't the most valuable materia, but it was near mastered, and he should be able to barter it for a new sword and some camping supplies.

He pulled up a mental map of the world, drawing on memories of tactics class. Gongaga was out, he doubted herbal medication and a Cure spell would help the General and that was all a ruined town like Gongaga had to offer. He needed a doctor who could interpret the medical chart that seemed to burn a hole in Cloud's uniform, shaking fingers plucking it out from purple fabric and smoothing the crumpled wrinkles.

It meant nothing; words on a page, swimming before him in patterns that made his head want to spin.

Focus. Objective, procedure. What did he need to do, and what resources did he have available? Ignore the sucking weakness that was the result of mako-exposure. Just because they'd gotten lucky last night didn't mean they were safe. This forest was filled with monsters; eventually one was going to catch their scent. The sooner he had a plan—and the sooner his hands stopped shaking—the sooner they could move.

What else was nearby? He tugged at the mental map. Corel. There was no way he'd make it across the desert in his condition, much less carrying unconscious dead weight. There were a few villages in the surrounding area, but those had the same drawbacks as Gongaga, but without the ShinRa-dislike that Gongaga fostered from the reactor explosion. He'd run the risk of some money-grubber turning him in for the reward ShinRa would certainly put out.

Cosmo Canyon… That was certainly further away, and the rocky canyon could be just as bad as the desert at mid-day…

But they held no love for ShinRa—they were quite vocal of their contempt for the plundering of Mako Energy.

Buganhagan was a scientist… Cloud replaced the medical chart with a small plain black notebook. Just the size to fit in his palm. He flicked it open, the well worn pages rustling.

Buganhagan. Nanaki's Grandfather. Cosmo Canyon elder. The entry was dated years ago, early into the dreams. Studies the planet.

Not really a doctor, but Red XIII's grandfather was not the kind of man who would turn them into ShinRa, nor deny any help he could give. The scientific background would be at least a start. Perhaps the man would have a suggestion, even if he couldn't help.

It took some time before Cloud could stand without fearing his legs would give out, but he did it. Fighting tooth and nail with every ounce of stubborn will and mako-powered strength to lift the General off the ground and head in the direction of the nearest town. He could see the tip of the destroyed mako reactor from breaks in the trees, a beacon to the lost. Step by step.

There was something to be said about images. Project the image you belonged there, and no one would stop you. Project an air of indifference, and no one would come near.

The blue suit helped, but it was only part. Reno never quite managed to grasp the image, but then again, it wasn't his job too. Tseng was the leader. He had to look the part. He was young. He was Wutai in an era where his home country was nothing more than a tourist trap.

Oh yes, long ago Tseng learned to put his image to good use.

The nurse said nothing when Tseng slipped into the room. One SOLDIER on each side of the door, eyes slid right past without a word. He didn't need authorization. He knew that. They knew that.

"Please." That was all he said, not moving his eyes from the occupant of this room. This was a place of honor in the infirmary that boasted more security than would be given anyone else, except perhaps the president himself. He didn't need to elaborate; the nurse snapped her mouth shut and fled the room, the SOLDIERs following at a more sedate pace, though he knew they were just relocating to the other side of the door.

The wood swung shut, settling into place against the frame with a dull thud.

All the while a low chuckle continued to echo.

He moved toward the bed, suit immaculate, all clean, crisp and sharp lines. He meant business. "Professor. I am glad to see you are well."

The laughing paused, absorbed his statement, and then snorted, "Of course, of course. The president sends his regards. How delightful." Glasses were folded on the bed's night-stand, the professor still clad in the clothes he'd been brought in with. No real injuries, Tseng remembered, just a large knot on the head. Truthfully he should have been released by now. "What is it he wants now? The Promised Land?" Another giggle.

"We require any information you may have on your attacker, along with the projected duration of the S1-JX sedative."

"Attacker? There was no attacker. That was the solution!" He laughed again, supple hands curling into gnarled fists, "Can you hear her, Turk? Trumpeting her triumph to high heaven. No, of course not, for you are deaf. Blind, deaf, and dumb. All of you."

And that could be the reason right there. When the maintenance team managed to cut through the reinforced door they'd opened to find him laughing. Laughing and laughing and laughing. Even President ShinRa, to whom the Professor could do no wrong, felt it was unwise to release him.

Patience. This was why he came and not Reno. "If we could have that information, we could focus on the recovery of your project." Project. Specimen. Not General. Not Sephiroth. Not son, by blood or by position. Dehumanizing terms, but they were the language of the man before him.

"No need, no need. I know where he will go. She calls—Come home, my child. Come home!—If only I'd seen. My lab is shielded. Too well—must prepare for everything, right? He couldn't hear her." A snicker, a hooked hand detaching from the sheets, gesturing wildly to the walls, "No shield out there. He sleeps. She sings. He hears."

"God will be born in the mountains—Reunion—Nibelheim—Such a simple solution. The curse of genius, everything must be complicated. A god and the Ancient child…such a wonderful experiment. One step closer, Turk. We are one step closer to the Promised Land."

Tseng frowned as he closed the door behind him; the man hadn't been too forthcoming after that, just smiled and laughed as if he knew such a wonderful secret the rest of the world didn't. Tseng was going to file a recommendation with the president—Professor Hojo had jumped off the deep end.

It was likely to be ignored, of course. Two words would have the President eating out of the scientist's hands, and Hojo was still sane enough to know that. Not his problem. He hadn't gotten much out of that conversation; merely some abstract "Her" and Nibelhiem. He'd pass that off to General Fair as he'd promised.

There was one last thing bothering him.

The Ancient Child…

He knew his duty. Protect and watch. Guarding the Cetra was a beginner Turk duty. A way to learn the art of trailing and stalking safely, because if she caught you, you would only get a smile and a flower in return. Ruffians and low level monsters were well within a rookie-Turk's range—Keep her intact. Observed. And when the time is right, retrieve her.

Tseng knew his orders. Orders that had been passed down when the previous leader retired. Orders he'd had to change, pulling back the observation distance when that dark-haired man came into the picture, because those red eyes missed little, and especially not the blue suit of a newly minted cadet.

He thought back to the file, long since buried in the ShinRa personnel system. Flagged once by the access of the General's office, and erased by Tseng's own hand. He thought back to the girl he'd once watched over. A girl who'd handed him a flower when he'd rescued her from a rabid Hell House and then invited him—blood-covered Turk suit and all—home for dinner.

He couldn't break his oaths. His country may be nothing more than a pale shadow of its former glory, and he may have abandoned that ship when he was young, swearing loyalty to those who fired upon her, but he was still one of Leviathan's children. He was nothing without his word.

When the order came, he would have to bring her in. He would have to surrender a girl he could have loved—in another time and place—to that man in there, who thought of human beings as instruments, pieces of clay he could squish and smash and then throw away. He'd seen the orders, already signed, that would transfer one of his men to Nibelhiem, there was no lab anymore, but it wasn't so much a physical place as it was a warning. Everyone knew it, every person transferred there never came back. Not even a Leader was immune.

He thought back to the file. Back to the stranger with red eyes.

Except…perhaps one.

Glassy green rolled between weathered fingers, the faint spark of a gleam, shimmering radiance ready to burst free with just a few more uses. Cloud waited, watching, until the aged—but not old—man gave out a rumbling 'hmm' and set it back down on the counter.

"I can't take this lad."

Cloud winced. He knew what this looked like. A kid with no money, and desperate to fence an almost-mastered materia? Thief had probably been the first thing to run through the clerk's mind. Better thief than ShinRa, in this town. He'd heard horror stories from the SOLDIERs sent to help with the clean-up, years ago.

"I could send my boy out to roast some frog-legs and this little 'un would be ready to split." The man said wryly, "An' I don't have the funds to cover a mastered materia, much less th' child yeh'd be givin' me. Normally this would be a problem but…" He sighed again, "the snowmelt has th' river runnin' high. Th' merchants are long overdue. I just don't have enough in stock to cover the value." He looked apologetic—nah, downright pitying. Cloud knew he made a ragged picture—he'd done it on purpose; his 2nd Class Uniform would be too recognizable.

"Please sir," He wasn't going to shake damn it. He knew he was pale as a ghost, his bandages were skewed, and his burns were pretty darn obvious along the edges. He'd seen the guy take note upon his entering the hut. Seen the surprise. The pity. It was probably the only reason he hadn't been run out for being a thief—which he wasn't—yet.

He hadn't been thinking straight when he left. A single knife, bracer, and whatever materia he'd had equipped was all he had to his name. His belongings were probably in the process of being packed up, to be shipped out to next of kin—Mom—and his roommate had probably quietly taken Cloud's stash of gil as soon as he'd heard the news…

Most of his materia was mastered, and he doubted family-owned Gongaga shops would be willing to shell out 1.4 million gil for a mastered All. So he'd stashed Sephiroth out of sight, taken the least valuable materia he had—fire—and set about to bargain.

"I—sir…Please. All I want for it is a sword, a map if you have one, and any gil you can spare. My…" He considered trying to come up with a story, but decided to just stick with the basics, "I'm traveling and I lost my weapon in the forest."

It took a few moments, but the man slowly lowered his hand, scooping up the near-mastered Fire and turning to a nearby box filled with rolled up papers. Cloud sighed, relieved. He was going to do it. "Where're ya headed kid?" The clerk thumbed through the papers, pulling out individual ones and laying them on the counter.

"Cosmo Canyon."

"Ser? Planet, kid, you look like a strong wind would knock ya over. SOLDIER or not, that's not a journey I'd take on foot." He chuckled when Cloud tensed, "Ya can't hide that look in yer eye, kid. It'll give you away every time. Well, you could wear sunglasses, but people'd get suspicious if ya leave 'em on inside."

He shuffled a couple of the maps to the side, picking up others and re-stowing them, "Those're th' maps I got for th' area 'tween here and th' canyon. Pick th' one you like. Swords are along th' far wall." He continued searching the boxes, grumbling when he couldn't find what he wanted. Cloud had already selected a map and was browsing the sword collection when the shopkeeper headed up the spiral stair-case to the level above.

There was only one style of sword available, labeled as the Hardedge. Cloud studied one of the larger varieties, pulling it down from the wall and giving it a measuring swing. It wasn't the strongest weapon he'd worked with—it actually reminded him of the standard-equipment ShinRa gave to the new 3rd classes. His own blade was better quality, but unless he was going to take a leaf out of Tifa's book and take up martial arts, or pull an Aeris with the staves it was the only option he had.

Cloud discarded the initial blade he picked up—it was too light. Sure it felt fine now, but once he got over this weakness—and he was going to get over it—it would probably snap under his strength. Most of the customers out here were just normal folks, and the goods reflected it. Normal gear just wasn't cut out for SOLDIER strength, which was why they usually had to get customized and specially made weapons. It took the largest sword the shop had—which was as large as he was—before Cloud felt it was durable enough.

"Yeh sure ya can move that thing?" He shot the shopkeeper a look and—with a little difficulty—hefted the heavy blade onto his shoulder, balancing it expertly, "Yea, yea, can't blame me for askin'. We don't get many SOLDIERs 'round here. 'specially not one as tiny as you are. Didn't know they let such young'uns into the army."

"…I'm 16…" Cloud muttered, and he wasn't even going to mention the years he'd lived in his dreams. This was taking long enough as it was. Cloud decided on the sword and grabbed the back harness that came with it, trudging over to the counter. He placed it next to his chosen map.

"Lessee…1500 for the blade, 100 for the map…" The man was muttering, "I've managed to scrounge up 10000 gil, but that leaves a deficit of…" He was scribbling out on a piece of paper, "30,400…"

Cloud started, he thought they'd worked this out already, "Sir, it's alright. Really."

"I'm not gonna be cheatin' you outta yer money kid. You'll be needin' every bit of it if ya want to get to the canyon by foot." He warned, and Cloud shut his mouth. Truthfully he hadn't thought much beyond arming himself, and he doubted he'd need a small fortune in gil when in the wild. "Food, supplies—seriously kid, them frogs'll transform you for /days/ at a time if you don't have a stock of Maiden's Kiss. And then those thrice-damned gorgon-dragons—they are downright dangerous if yer travelin' by yerself. If it weren't for the regular trade-caravans there'd be hundreds upon hundreds of stone statues litterin' th' woods. It'd be one thing if you had a chocobo—" He paused, gave Cloud a considering look, "Yeh don't have one, righ'?"

He did, but Zero was back in Midgar. He hoped Vincent got to him before ShinRa did. He /knew/ where those birds went if no-one claimed them and he was fond of that feather-head.

Upon receiving no answer but a silent shake of the head, the shopkeeper sprinted upstairs with a quick, "Jus' a sec—"

It took a few moments for him to return, rolling a purple orb in those weathered fingers, "I'm gettin' a mite old to go ridin' and if ya catch a wild bird it'll cut yer journey time in half. I got it for 2000 gil, so I'll add that." He deposited the materia with the map and harness, where Cloud picked it up to inspect it. Chocobo Lure. It felt new, unused, and…"A child?"

"Yep. I did a lot o' traveling in my day. My boy has the parent materia—he dreams of bein' some hot-shot chocobo racer one day. 'e's finally managed a black bird last I heard."

"This was more than I was expecting." Cloud murmured, "I thought I was going to be run off." For being a thief, or later ShinRa. That'd been why he'd torn off the more identifying aspects of his uniform, the shoulder-guards, belts and even the red striped turtleneck, leaving the plain white undershirt. He'd rubbed the deep-brown Gongaga dirt into the scarlet fabric of his pants to disguise the color of the Second's uniform. Then he was given away by his eyes.

"True, ShinRa doesn't have a good rep around here. Especially not after the explosion…" The man sobered, "But yer just a kid. Ya probably hadn't even joined up when that happened. Most of us wouldn't hold that over ya." He finished writing whatever he was doing and tore the strip from the larger paper, "Here, show this to Ol' Jess at the general store and she'll fix ya up with some greens and any medicines yer likely to need. I'll go see if I can scrounge up some camping equipment—even with a chocobo it'll likely take ya two weeks ta get to the river, much less th' Canyon itself."

Cloud clung to the note, an IOU of sorts, stating the total amount of credit he had—28,100 gil—and signed by the shop owner. Aiden. His name was Aiden.

"I'll also adjust the harness for ya, it's a bit large at the moment—" Aiden paused, "What're ya still here for? Git yerself on over to the general store. I can't work if you hover."

"…Thank you sir."

Nibelhiem? Just Nibelhiem? Zack drummed his fingers against the desk with increasing agitation—just waiting for Sephiroth to order him to stop—Tseng dropped by while Zack'd been juggling the security reports, especially the 3rds stationed on the 66th floor and above, and gave him a transcript of his discussion with the…doctor. He could tell that some statements were edited out, but a question to Tseng had reassured him that they only contained classified, irrelevant information. He trusted Tseng to be honest when it dealt with work.

Nibelhiem. Nibelhiem. What was it in Nibelhiem? Vincent was from Nibelhiem. So was—Cloud—but this was Hojo they were talking about. What did Hojo have to do with Nibelhiem? Sure he went there often, but what was there? And what did it have to do with Sephiroth?

Nibelhiem…Nibelhiem…

Vincent…

Nibelhiem…

Zack spun the swivel-chair idly. It wasn't his friend he was thinking of, but something…something…

His eyes landed on the computer. He stopped twirling the chair.

-"Ho…Turk Leader at age twenty-one?"—

"guard a pair of scientists in Nibelhiem…" Zack dug through his memory for the rest of the report: retired Turk, same name as Vincent…

Maybe he should ask him, if nothing else came up. He couldn't go now, Heidegger would skin him if he didn't get the investigation done—why the hell had he been chosen to do this? There were plenty of SOLDIERs with more administration experience than him. The only reason he managed to stay as Sephiroth's 2IC was because he was the only one who didn't quit after a week.

Briiing!

He snatched up the phone, knocking a pile of papers off the desk and sending them flying. He bit off a curse—that was going to be a pain to sort out again—and ground out, "Lieutenant Fair."

"General." Hiedegger growled. Right, Zack guessed the pretend-it's-not-true-and-it'll-go-away option wasn't going to work this time. "Do you have those reports done yet! Every hour you waste is another hour our security is compromised!"

Zack rolled his eyes, "To be frank, sir, until the Turks figure out how this person got into the building in the first place, and how the electronic security was tampered with, nothing I do it going to matter. So let me take my time."

The Head of Public Safety sputtered.

"Though if you'd like to help the /other/ investigation, I need some information."

If Valentine had been retired in Nibelhiem, which meant Heidegger knew about it. If he didn't, then he had records about it.

…Sephiroth would be turning twenty-five in a month…

Heidegger hadn't hung up yet.

"What does Hojo have to do with Nibelhiem?"

He heard breath catch—it did mean something to him.

"That has nothing to do with the investigation!"

"When asked about the circumstances surrounding Sephiroth's abduction, the only concrete thing Tseng got out of him was Nibelhiem. Hojo was a frequent visitor to that town up until about ten years ago. Now try and tell me it is irrelevant, sir."

Silence. But Zack hadn't heard the dial-tone yet, so it was looking up. Heidegger let out a gruff sigh and Zack gave himself a mental knuckle-knock in honor of his success. "Professor Gast was doing research on the reactor, which Hojo eventually took over. There is—was a lab in Nibelhiem, but it burned down in a freak lightning storm. Is that enough for you?" The majority of the statement was grumbled, reluctantly admitted, but the final question was snapped, irritated. Zack decided to cut his losses.

"Yep. Thank you, sir."

It was a start.

"Vincent?"

Aeris hadn't seen him all day, not since he'd left after their argument. She wasn't even certain he was he here now. She'd been by herself as she walked to the church, staff strapped to her back; within easy reach in case any of the less-respectable denizens decided to try their luck. They had—she'd noticed them approaching, leering at the sight of her absent red-shadow. Before Vincent the Turks had always been there, just out of sight. Everyone knew not to bother her, or they'd get a late night visit. As much as she disliked the method, she couldn't deny it made her feel safe.

The danger they could see, Vincent, must have replaced their fear of dark suits, because at the first sign of his absence here they came. She refused to reach for her staff, not wishing to believe ill of anyone. She'd give them the benefit of the doubt.

It wasn't until they'd begun to ring her, a good two or three men older than her, but not by much, that she'd begun to worry.

"Hey little lady, you're all alone today." The first started, in front of her, "Did you finally dump that vampire of yours?"

She didn't say anything beyond ducking her head with an "Excuse me" and tried to move around him, but one of his friends moved up to block his path, "Aw don't be like that. This is the first time we've gotten to talk with you. Stay a while. We could probably be better companions than that creepy boyfriend."

"I need to get to work. Flowers don't grow themselves." Or sell themselves, for that matter. It didn't seem to discourage the ring leader, because he just snickered. She started to reach for her staff—she hated the thought of hurting someone, but if they wouldn't leave her alone…

"We could escort you, couldn't we boys? It doesn't do to leave a pretty lady all on her own down here."

"Right! Who knows what kinda scoundrels prowl down here. Maybe a recruiter for the Honey Bee Inn! Or one of the Don's men."

"…she'd look cute in their uniforms…"

It was the third and final member that surprised them all, "No…I think we should leave her alone. She doesn't want company, right? Let the lady do as she wants."

"What are you talking about, Kir?"

Aeris turned her head to look at the lone voice of dissent, and noticed first that he was pale as a ghost, and was staring off behind her.

"I mean, we shouldn't try to force the lady right?"

The other two turned to follow his gaze and she watched with fascination how she could see the moment the color drained out of their faces. "Y-yeah. You're right Kir. Absolutely right."

She itched to turn around to see what they were so frightened of, though she had an idea. She didn't trust them to have her back to them though.

"So sorry for all the trouble, Ms. Flower." The leader gulped, backing away, "Do have a nice day."

And then they fled, leaving her alone on an empty street.

She turned around immediately, but there was no one there.

And now she was standing in her church, addressing someone who might not even be there, "Vincent?"

The red-black ghosted out of the shadows, head tilted to acknowledge her.

"…thank you…for earlier. I could have taken care of them, if I had to…but thank you."

"One perhaps. Maybe two." Vincent acknowledged, "But not three. Not alone. I must apologize—I hadn't realized my lack of presence would cause a drastic change."

She sighed. He was still upset with her. He'd retreated back into the role of a professional bodyguard, all politeness and duty.

"Vincent…"

"I will not be remiss in my duty again." The gunner slid into one of the pews, closer than when he'd first started accompanying her, but still barely halfway between the entrance and her flower patch. Far, very far given he used to sit right up front.

Mind made up, Aeris set down her basket and staff, marching up the aisle and sliding into the pew beside him, "We need to talk."

"There is nothing to discuss." Red eyes didn't slide away, veiled by a thin haze of mako-glow.

"At least listen to me Vincent. Nothing I could have done would have kept him from leaving. He's had a reason ever since he came here; he'd just been waiting for the right time to do it."

He was silent, and she watched as he weighed her words. His face didn't change, but the eyes were sharp as he responded, "Do you know why?"

"Very little of it." She sighed, knowing he wasn't going to be satisfied with that, "I knew he was headed for ShinRa." He didn't seem surprised. She'd been right that he'd gone out searching last night, "Professor Hojo's lab in specific. And I know he'd been planning the raid for years, though I don't know what he was after. The…situation with the Turk must have pushed up his time-table." She couldn't mention the muffled conversation she'd over-heard with the Planet. Couldn't tell him that the timing was directly a result of the mako-exposure.

"Sephiroth."

Aeris paused upon hearing the name, "...What?"

"Tall, long silver hair. There is only one such person in the ShinRa databases," and she wasn't going to ask how he got a hold of that information, "Sephiroth yes?"

"As far as I know. Zack works with him." And he sounded like the man she'd seen with Cloud in Gongaga last night. The man with the tainted life-stream, completely entwined with an alien chill that left her on edge just thinking about it.

"…I deleted the security footage. They should be safe for the moment." Vincent paused, "…do you…know where they are?"

"I—" No, she couldn't. Couldn't. "I gave him my Exit materia. They could be anywhere he's been before." Given he'd been sent all over the world between cadet training and SOLDIER missions…

I want to tell you. I really do. But her mother had been adament. Tell no-one. She'd never even told Elmyra, although she knew her adopted mother likely figured it out years ago when Tseng came to the door to try and convince her to return.

Vincent seemed to accept the answer, although she knew he knew it wasn't the whole truth.

Aeris smiled, relieved, she might be able to fix this.

Despite Cloud's best efforts, it was hours before he'd finished the shopping. The Item-Shopkeeper had cooed over his burns, especially once she extracted the fact they were cause by mako exposure, and tried to foist every curative she had onto him—including some unofficial herbal remedy they'd developed to treat health-problems from the reactor's fallout. He now had a backpack filled to the brim with potions, softs, the funny pink flower known as Maiden's Kiss, and anything else he might possibly need along the way. He was more than a bit overwhelmed by the attention—not even back at home was he ever treated like this.

Not that he was treated especially well in Nibelhiem. An outsider always, early on because he had no father, and later because of Vincent's presence. And once his Uncle went missing…

They never gave Vincent a partner again. They assigned him groups, but never a single partner.

He shook his head, now wasn't the time to be thinking about the past. At least it was his past, not the future-that-wasn't that kept running through his head during the break-in last night.

He paused in his trek, looking over the run down ruin of a house no-one bothered to rebuild after the explosion. It was far enough from town that it was left alone, but close enough that most monsters would leave it alone. As much as they liked to attack travelers, monsters usually avoided towns. Midgar was the only exception he knew of, and that place was screwed up in many ways.

The door was long since gone, and the roof had fallen in, but the structure was largely intact. Cloud shifted the backpack to his other shoulder, wincing as it shoved the hilt of his new sword into his back. He'd almost forgotten that was there. The weight was familiar—he hadn't realized how naked he'd felt without his weapon.

The back room was his destination, the only room with any part of the roof remaining. It was also set back enough that no hapless passersby would see a gleam of silver through the doorways and investigate. Sephiroth was just too damn recognizable. He was lucky the wilds between here and Cosmo Canyon were little traveled, especially if he decided to stay off the main road. The problem would be getting into the Canyon itself.

A faint sound came to his ears and Cloud paused mid-step. He peered into the dimly lit room—light shafting in from where the roof caved in, showing open sky. He'd set the General in a corner, out of direct sight.

"Rrrribit?"

Oh hell.

A wet slimy hand brushed against his pant-leg, followed by the world spinning and rushing up around him as everything suddenly grew to gigantic proportions. His item pack thudded to the floor, and Cloud could only hope none of the potions had broken. He had no idea where his weapon went and he didn't think about it much—he'd long ago learned that there were things that just shouldn't be explained.

'Damn it!' though, to his annoyance it came out as "Riiiiibit!"

The newly minted pale-yellow frog turned to glare at the cause of this mess, only to be face to face with a grinning green, native to Gongaga 'Touch Me' frog. Female, he guessed from the way it was eyeing him examiningly. A stray thought hit him—was that why they transformed things into frogs? To…to…

Ergh. That was going to be nightmare food tonight.

The frog gave a satisfied ribbit, sidling up closer to him. Cloud cracked webbed fingers. He may be a mako-poisoned frog, but he was still stronger than these clowns.

A few well placed punches and the transformer was skittering out of the hut, leaving Cloud to hop over to his item pack and rummage through it, digging through, luckily, still intact potions bottles. As webbed fingers curled around the petal of a Maiden's Kiss—which from this angle actually looked like lips. Creepy—he paused, tilting his head to listen. There were more ribbits from the other room. More frogs. Reluctantly he left the status-cure where it was, hopping out of the heavy backpack and toward the doorway. Might as well take care of them now and not waste more than one flower. At least Sephiroth was immune to status effects; Gaea knows how much Wutai would have exploited it if he wasn't.

The next few moments were a blur of hopping green bodies, croaking battle-cries and flying three-fingered fists as Cloud cleared out the gaggle of frogs that seemed to have moved in during his absence. He'd been transformed back to normal and back more times than he could count, each time leaving him dazed and confused as the world suddenly changed perspective around him rapidly. He had a feeling the frogs knew this; otherwise they wouldn't do it so damn often.

A final kick and they were scampering, Cloud had to chase a few away from his item pack where they'd stopped to snoop. Once he was sure they'd all gone he grimaced, stuffing the flower into his mouth, stem, petals and all. Status cures always tasted awful. It almost distracted him as the world grew small again and he could feel the weight of the sword on his back. The sudden change left his staggering, coming to a rest half-leaning against one of the frail walls. He hated Frog. ShinRa only saw fit to outfit First with Ribbons, everyone else had to deal with status changes unless they managed to get a hold of Added Effect and Hades materia.

It took a couple moments to fix the mess he'd made of his pack and stow it again, pushing through the door to gather up his final bit of luggage—

Only to find the corner he'd leaned Sephiroth against empty. He hadn't noticed before, too focused on kicking froggy-behind and protecting his items. Everything looked so weird from six inches tall.

Maybe he'd woken up? While that was detrimental to his plans, Cloud couldn't help a bloom of hope at the thought. It was just wrong to have General Sephiroth comatose, and it'd been over 12 hours—his best guess—since the ShinRa raid. Most sedatives would have worn off long ago.

Then again, most sedatives weren't designed with Jenova and Mako in mind.

Something pale in the shadowed corner caught his eye and Cloud moved further into the room. His shoe came in contact with something thin and flimsy—cloth? He sank into a crouch, fingers curling into and lifting what used to be the pale grey of the hospital scrubs, but was now brown with dirt and dust. The hell?

He pulled up the material, staring at the small, silver on white form curled under the center of the empty scrubs.

But—but—Sephiroth was immune! They—AVALANCHE—tried status effects. Many times. Newspapers claim Wutai was fond of poisons and other similar Materia! It didn't make sense! He shouldn't have been affected by Frog, he wasn't—

Normal. The tiny curled form in front of him finally severed all ties with the madman in his dream. Flames and crazed laughing died away. That Sephiroth wasn't normal. Whether it was Jenova, or the plunge into the reactor that finally pushed past the limits of human being Cloud would never know. This Sephiroth was an enhanced human-like all the other SOLDIERs, like the Cloud in his dreams—but still human. He needed armor. Needed accessories. And needed status items. Every human was vulnerable to status spells without them.

Gently, Cloud lifted the limp amphibian, discarding the lab scrubs—civilian grade obviously. Hojo wouldn't waste quality battle-ready material on a lab subject—and carried Sephiroth out of the room, the frog nestled in the crook of his arm. He had gotten a set of clothes in the town—he'd figured the scrubs wouldn't last long.

That other Sephiroth was wrong. He wasn't a monster. Not yet. Not until he gave in to Jenova and threw away the humanity he had left.

If he was, then so was every other SOLDIER, and there were some damn good people in there.

Everything was just as he remembered it. Perhaps the garden was a bit larger, the house a little older, and the peaked roof of a wooden structure poked above the concealment of the garden's hedges, but he could ignore that. It was quite the illegal structure housing an illegal occupant, but Tseng didn't think more of it than a faint flash of amusement. He wasn't the police.

He could almost pretend he was a cadet again, sitting here on the fence watching the perimeter, wondering just what it was about the sunny five year old that required such careful observation. It wasn't until years later, as he rose in the ranks, that he was privy to her status, and value.

The Cetra were meant to lead us to the Promised Land, Tseng remembered what the leader before him said, That girl will change the world.

What exactly he'd meant, Tseng wasn't sure. However he'd seen Aeris for himself. Seen her kind smile, her willingness to open up to others. Seen her attempt the impossible and grow life in a dead city, and then share that miracle for a single gil, when imported flowers went for well over a hundred—for a single bloom—above the plate.

And something within him recoiled at the thought of what he would have to do some day. Protect her, he could do. Arrange to have her protected when he could not, he could do. He could even take her prisoner if he thought it would keep her safe. The only problem would be in whose care she would be left in.

Hojo…the man was a different matter. Once…perhaps. But not now. If he wasn't mad, he was closing in on it.

And he'd done too much research.

…Here came the subject of that research now. The light in the window he'd been watching switched off, and then the glass opened, glinting dully in the Slum's night setting before settling back into its frame. Tseng leaned back against the fence post, not bothering to hide himself, smoothing down his recon blacks. He'd forgone the suit today, this was an unofficial trip. No one knew of his presence save for Reno, and the red-head had been quite pleased to skip off to Wall Market to do Leviathian-knows-what.

When the leader told you to scram, you did, and if asked by anyone, you were there the whole time.

The dark shadow was at the edge of the roof, now he was off, cloth whipping out behind as he jumped from the edge of the porch's overhang and whirling round like a red cloud.

"I'm not here on business." Tseng was the first the break the silence, once Aeris' unconventional body-guard came within range—his range, since the records he'd found claimed the other's senses were far beyond human—the response wasn't verbal, a narrowing of mako-glowing eyes and the quirk of an eyebrow, but light glittered off golden metal as the clawed hand moved, settling over the concealed gun.

Tseng sucked in a breath, then slowly reached to his waist and tugged out the weapon hanging there, He lowered the standard issue gun to the ground in front of him, in full view of the other, and his concealed personal weapon soon followed. He hesitated a moment, he didn't want to place them in the dirt, his sais were his pride and joy.

"No need." The voice rumbled, snatching Tseng's attention before he could lower them. The red-cloaked gun-man was tugging his own weapon—a nasty looking triple-barreled gun—and placing it to the ground in the exact same fashion, a foot in front, in full view. "I'm afraid I can't fully disarm." The gold claw flashed.

"Fair enough." Tseng slid his sais back into their holders. And it was fair, they each had a short range weapon. As he was doing so, almost absently Tseng's hands flashed through a set of handsigns. He was pretty certain he knew the identity of the man in front of him, but there was only one way to be sure. He seemed to be familiar with the proper procedures of a temporary disarmament, but those could be overseen.

Almost hesitantly, black-gloved fingers formed the second half of the greeting, flashing through the signals. They were a little outdated, but they told Tseng exactly what he needed to know.

"…Valentine…" And this was Vincent Valentine. The youngest leader in Turk history. The best marksman the company had ever seen. When he was appointed, Tseng had read up on every leader before him. Valentine had stood out. Not merely for the previous reasons. Nor was it that he had an impeccable mission record.

He had the shortest tenure as Leader, of those who were retired, and not killed in action. Six years, a mere six years before the man was transferred to Nibelhiem.

He had been the first. But not the last.

"What is it you want, Tseng?" The Wutaian arched an eyebrow at the man's knowledge of his name before he dismissed it as unimportant.

"Nothing to do with Miss Aeris, I assure you." He felt his lips curl into a fond smile before he smoothed it away, "Nor is this on the record. However, I would appreciate your honesty."

He waited. Valentine tilted his head, motioning Tseng to continue. "I will answer. However, I have a question of my own."

"Fair enough." Tseng murmured, "As long as we both understand that not everything can be said."

"Agreed."

With that out of the way, Tseng started, "Were you the one to wipe our backups?"

"Yes." Not the slightest bit of hesitation. That set one of Tseng's worries to rest. He didn't have malfunctioning security protocols. Valentine was a Leader, and Leaders alone knew the method to modify data.

"Were you involved in the removal of a valuable project from professor Hojo's lab?"

"No." Though given the faint growl at the mere mention of the scientist, and what Tseng had learned during his research, he felt absolutely no remorse for the scientist.

"Do you know who was?"

"Yes." Tseng didn't even bother asking the next question. Valentine wouldn't answer it.

"Despite your vendetta against the Professor, do you plan on interfering with ShinRa's affairs?"

A pause. This made Tseng frown, if the answer was 'Yes' he'd be forced to act. Valentine knew this.

"Only if they involve myself or my charge." The answer finally came, and it was exactly what he wanted to hear.

"Perfect." He could read the confusion in the shift of the gunner's stance, "I had more than one reason for coming tonight. You are Aeris' guardian, correct?"

A nod.

"…She is a very special girl. I cannot do anything but…" He took a breath, taking a moment to pause. Was he really going to do this? It wasn't outright betrayal but…

Hojo's mad laughter rang through his mind, the caress in his voice as he mentioned Ancient…

"The Turks have standing orders. When the professor calls, we are to deliver Miss Aeris to him."

He saw Valentine's mako-bright eyes flare a might brighter, the only change to show he even heard the words. Tseng could only hope the other didn't take it as a threat, and heard what Tseng was trying to say.

Don't let us take her. Make us fail.

I can't protect her. You can.

And then the spark sank back into an ember, "Understood."

The two shared a comfortable silence before each reached down to collect their ranged weapons, sliding them into their holsters. Tseng paused, "What was it you wanted to know?"

"I do not much resemble my Turk profile." There was only the faintest change in his voice as he said that. "And Aeris has never used my full name within range of your watchers." So how did you know?

Ah. So he'd caught on that Tseng had suspected prior to getting confirmation. He considered how much he could say before deciding that it wouldn't really compromise anything. "We put flags on the profiles of those who 'disappear under mysterious circumstances' or are 'transferred to Nibelhiem' so we can quickly identify when someone is looking too closely. It is a practice that succeeds your time, so it is understandable you didn't know." He cast back into his memory, "Shortly after General Fair spent the night here, General Sephiroth's computer ran a search on your name." From there it was little effort to match up "Vincent Valentine" to Aeris' bodyguard "Vincent" and the circumstances surrounding his retirement had led Tseng into Hojo's research journals.

He didn't get much information on project Chaos, but what he did learn left him with more than enough respect for the man who went through all that and remained sane and some severe doubts on trusting the scientist with the Flower of the Slums.

"Zack knows?"

Now that was interesting. First name basis with Fair? He knew the newly minted General had long since developed the habit of visiting the Gainsborough household, but he'd assumed it was for Aeris, not her enigmatic bodyguard.

"No, I do not believe so. As you said, you do not resemble your profile." He chuckled, "Plus, you are remarkably well preserved for someone in your fifties." Without the knowledge Tseng had gained from the research notes, he probably wouldn't have believed it either.

Another incline of the head, "Thank you."

And then he was gone. Tseng couldn't even pinpoint the exact moment when the ex-turk had moved. It was humbling. And cheering.

Valentine could protect her.

Tseng slipped out of the gardens—taking a moment to lightly ruffle black feathers as he ghosted past, leaving behind a regretful croon—and for the first time since Hojo had mentioned Aeris, his oaths and his heart were at peace.

Everything was so warm. Not comforting warm, but fever warm. Sephiroth curled in on himself, wrapped in cool arms.

Shh…shh…don't worry my child. I'm here.

He wished he could believe that voice, that he could believe it was more than just a fever-dream. It was the same one he'd been hearing for years, faintly, never more than a faint hum in the back of his mind during the worst of his experiments.

Mother will fix everything, son. Everything. That wretched little man believes he can chain you? Let mother take care of it, Sephiroth, my angel.

He curled further into the feel of arms around him. He didn't care if this was just a dream. The fever was fading, leaving nothing in his awareness save for her voice, her arms, her wonderful presence that made everything feel like it was going to be okay.

Just sleep. Let mother fix it. The planet-touched pet of yours will keep you safe enough, while I purge the filthy man's legacy from you. Then you can come to me.

We can be together, child. Forever.

He'd like that.

Edit: A bit belated, but a note for anyone going to Otakon 2010: A friend of mine is putting on a fanfiction workshop-and I am helping. It is focusing on originality in fanfiction, if anyone is interested. As of yesterday, it'll be Saturday at 1pm-2:30pm.

A/N: IT'S OVER NINE THOUSAAAAND!

Okay, now that I've gotten that out of the way…Long chapter this time no? It's been in the works for…uh, maybe a month now. I realized while writing this that I might have made some mistakes in earlier chapters about floors/uniform colors and other things. I'm going to go back and try to find them and smooth out the errors. For the record, Seconds are RED, not purple. I am going by the original game, not Crisis Core, though I'm sure people have figured that out by now.

Just a note on the drug, and why Sephy isn't waking up. This won't fit in the narrative of this story, but this drug is a mixture of sedatives, manip and sleep materia. It is designed to keep Sephiroth down until the antidote is given, whether that is an hour later or weeks later. Hojo designed it like that because …well…if you were an evil scientist who valued your life…would you want a super-powered SOLDIER waking up in the middle of an invasive experiment and taking your head off? Because of the manip aspect, it also has the side affect of severely lowering mental defenses. Makes Jenova a happy camper. As they get closer to her, she'll be able to assert even more influence.

…Cloud really messed up, didn't he?

Oh yeah, a reviewer asked about pairings. I don't remember if I answered, but there will be no pairings. I'm just not good at writing romance. If you think you see something going on in between the lines, it's up to you.

…by the way, this part still has quite a few chapters to go, and nothing will really be "concluded" till the end. The other parts were more episodic, III is more of an entire story arc. If I get to IV, it would also be a story arc. The first two parts were more setting the scene and getting to this point.

Review please? :D I nearly burnt my brain out trying to get this good and long to make up for the wait.

(dedicated to hittocerebattosai. She's to blame for frog!Sephy. And I wanted to surprise her. Did it work?)