Chapter 7

WRO Village

Tifa finished her morning run as Cloud prepared to leave. "Where you headed to?" She caught her breath and extended her arms behind her back, standing in the driveway and stretching her limbs.

He didn't look up as he stuffed a few packages into the compartments of his motorcycle seat. "I have a few deliveries today."

"Yeah?" She eyed him warily as she pulled a foot up behind her. "Gonna be gone long?" She kept her tone neutral so the question didn't sound like an accusation.

"I'll be back tonight." He tossed a brief glance toward her. "I'm gonna stay local for a while. Maybe give Barret more help in New Harbor." His gentle reply made her feel guilty. She knew she had been short-tempered with him since the wedding. Maybe longer.

"Oh?" She hid her surprise and moaned as she continued to stretch her limbs. He hadn't mentioned before that he was no longer taking long trips, so she wondered how long this would last. Barret had needed help for a while running his logistics company. Perhaps this would help keep Cloud grounded and settle his mind finally.

"Yeah." He stared at her with a question in his eyes, opening his mouth as if to speak. She waited, not wanting to push for more if he wasn't ready. But his eyes swung back toward his motorcycle, focusing on the compartment lock. "What are your plans?" He didn't look at her.

"I'm going to the village to see Molly. I should be back before dinner." He nodded at her and said he would be back then too. She continued stretching as he started the motorcycle and drove away.

Later that morning, Tifa drove her little truck through the WRO's West Village, enjoying the drive and reveling in the peaceful atmosphere it radiated. Grass and flowers were finally growing, and a few trees had begun taking root in most yards. The WRO made every effort to show its progress toward healing the world. Starting at home was the best way.

Driving past a row of small duplexes, she reached a series of streets holding single-family homes, which grew larger further into the neighborhood. She pulled up to a quaint one-story bungalow, waving at a woman sitting on a porch swing.

"Hi, Tifa!" Molly rose from her swing as Tifa exited her truck and approached the porch with a few bags in hand. "Now, what did you bring? Oh—girl, you spoil me!"

Tifa smiled at Molly's country drawl, which reminded her of her hometown and the people she had lost years ago. It was comforting that her friend had never lost the accent the way some do when they leave home. She mounted the steps and scanned her slight friend's dwindling figure. "I brought you some presents. Hopefully, to make you feel a little better until the doctors can tell you what's going on."

"Hmm…about that," Molly said with a grin curling up one side of her face.

"What?"

"Do I look any different?" Molly turned to the side and stuck her belly out.

Tifa knew she looked perplexed by Molly's laugh. "Uh…is that a new dress?"

Molly clapped Tifa's shoulder, gleeful and nearly bursting with excitement. "It sure is, girl! I'm pregnant!"

Tifa's mouth hung open. "You…are?"

"Mm-hm. Sure am! You know how doctors couldn't figure out why I was so sick. Well, they follow protocol and ever-thang, you know, 'cause I'm a woman, doin all the menstrual and pregnancy checks and whatnot. That durn test didn't take the first time, and they ruled it out. And you know, I think they figured that from the beginning. What with Pete bein a SOLDIER an' all."

Molly continued her story, regaling the tests and worry she went through while the doctors had assumed she'd contracted Mako poisoning somehow. But Tifa's mind raced. A SOLDIER pregnancy, something everyone thought was impossible outside of a lab, would be rife with complications. Tifa recalled the woman with Luxiere—his wife, Liza—she was so frail and sickly.

"An' that Dr. Bernard, cute as he could be, came slammin' into my room, and he wudn't sure if he should smile at me or give a death warrant. But I tell ya, girl. I couldn't be happier. Not knowing is the worst…but then! Ta find out I'm carrying a little Pete. It's all I can do not strip nekkid and run down the road cheerin for myself. We didn't even know Pete could make babies!

"An' look at me." Molly held her arms wide and looked down at her small, growing belly. "I'm like a behemoth."

Tifa giggled at her friend's display and shook her head. "You're no bigger than you were a month ago! Come on, I brought muffins." Molly eyed her bags with suspicion but led Tifa into the house with a warm smile.

The two friends visited for a couple of hours over coffee and muffins. Molly delighted at the gifts Tifa brought her. Fresh vegetables, which had been hard to come by until the last year, were nearly overflowing the paper bag Tifa set on the table. A smaller bag held soaps and lotions, which Tifa knew Molly would appreciate more now that she knew the cause of her illness.

"So, have you been feeling ok lately?" Tifa tried to keep the worry out of her voice, but with everything Reeve had mentioned, it was hard not to be concerned.

"Oh, I'm doing alright, barely any mornin' sickness to speak of. I'm only a few months in, so I expect it might get a little rougher. If I was carryin a regular bundle, I should be due by November. But that Dr. Bernard says he thinks I'll last out until September. So I can cut out some real sufferin' thanks to Pete!" She smiled as Tifa rubbed her hand. "Aww, now, Tifa. Don't you worry about me. I'll follow the doctor's orders and go to all my treatments. Sometimes I'm a little weary, but I'm not busy." Molly tried to make light of the situation, so Tifa smiled brightly.

"That's good to hear. Are you guys staying in this house? I thought Pete wanted to move."

"Well, we've been on a waitin' list for a bigger house up the hill." Molly pointed out the window to show Tifa the larger houses that dotted their view. "But you know you have to make the rank to qualify? I'm not too bothered right now. We got an extra room for the baby; we don't need much."

"Waiting list?" Tifa wondered how many people worked in the WRO. Reeve mentioned two housing villages and an apartment complex. Perhaps the organization had grown more than she thought if there was a waiting list.

"Yeah, but I hope with the way Pete's so helpful, he might be promoted soon." Molly opened one of the lotion bottles and began spreading the cream on her hands and arms. "He's decided to work with their medical scientists to track his health. All SOLDIERs were asked to come in, but only a few did. Gosh—I just hope it counts for somethin'."

"Track his health? Why?"

"Well, with all the pregnancies, they need to figure it out. Pete's donatin' blood. An' I think it's used in my treatments. But there might be a little somethin' more to it. Sometimes Pete gets comments when we're out in town. You know, mean things said. People still don't trust ShinRa the same way. An' the Mako eyes are like a beam. I'm guessin' people are worried about SOLDIERs goin' crazy."

Tifa continued to look at Molly with concern. She hoped the treatments, whatever those were, would help Molly get healthy and keep her weight up. Liza had been so small.

"Has Cloud been asked to participate, too?" Molly interrupted her thoughts with the question.

Tifa shrugged at her and grabbed a lotion bottle. "I don't think so. At least he hasn't said anything."

"I'm sure Reeve'll get around to it. Show up for dinner one night like he's hungry but has a list of things he wants from y'all." Tifa laughed with her, knowing it to be true.

"Oh! Speaking of dinner, it's time for me to prep the bar for the dinner crowd." Tifa stood up, handing the lotion to her friend, and took the dishes to the kitchen.

"No, ma'am! Don't you dare. You get outta my kitchen." Molly swatted Tifa's hands away as she started cleaning. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not so pregnant I can't throw dishes in the wash. Come on an' give me a hug. I'll walk ya out."

Tifa stood on the porch and glanced around the neighborhood, appreciating its suburban normalcy as Molly joined her. The two heard a loud scraping across the street as a small woman dragged a garbage bin to the edge of her driveway. She struggled with the container, yanking it with immense effort and causing it to fall on top of her and spill garbage into the street. Tifa rushed to her side and quickly lifted the bin from across the woman's legs.

"Are you alright?" Tifa grabbed her arms to help steady her back onto her feet just as Molly picked up the garbage.

"Oh—I'm fine, just a little clumsy." The woman's voice was small, weak, and oddly familiar to Tifa. She looked into her face and recognized her from the hotel in Wutai.

"Liza, right?" Tifa sucked in a breath as she realized Liza appeared as if she had lost more weight. There was barely any flesh on her bones, and her belly looked disturbingly smaller.

"Yeah, thank you," Liza said as she looked at Tifa curiously before recognition flitted across her face. "You were with the commissioner at the hotel."

"Yes, I'm Tifa Lockhart." Tifa reached out a hand and noticed how fragile Liza's felt in hers. "Can I get you anything? You took a bit of a nasty spill."

"I'm fine, it's fine," Liza said as she looked from Tifa to Molly in embarrassment. "I guess I should've waited for Lux to move the garbage can, but I can't stand to leave it in the garage once it's full." She gave a feeble laugh and rubbed her arms as if cold. "Well, I'll go back inside. It was nice to meet you again, Tifa. I'll see you later, Molly." She smiled at the women before slowly turning to walk up her driveway and back into the house.

Tifa walked back to her truck in silence, draping an arm around Molly's shoulders and trying not to let her worry get the better of her. "Stop it." Molly shrugged Tifa's arms from her shoulders. "You stop that right now." Tifa glanced at Molly's face to see a hard, determined look in her friend's eyes.

"What?" Tifa asked with a pout.

"I know what you're thinkin', and I'm fine. Ya hear? Don't go worryin' about me." Molly crossed her arms, staring Tifa down. "I'll be taking my treatments, goin' to the doctor once a week. Gettin' just enough exercise. Eatin' the damn green food they tell me will make a strong baby. I'm fine. You…miss girl! Don't get to worry."

Tifa continued to mope but turned her eyes toward the ground. "Ok, I won't."

"Good—now get outta my driveway," Molly said as she gave Tifa a peck on the cheek and slapped her rear, giggling her way back to the porch as Tifa jokingly glared.

Tifa glanced at the houses she passed and wondered which one belonged to Vincent. It was hard for her to imagine him living in such a conventional community. But then again, who could have guessed that the aloof man she had known during their journeys was the same who caused her heart to skip over a couple of wedding dances. Don't start thinking about that again.

She had managed to get back to her day-to-day routine without overwhelming thoughts of the former Turk. He was so dashing that night, but she hadn't heard from him other than his visit with Reeve. Now that she looked back on it, she had never known Vincent to be heartless, but his offer to dance with her had likely been to save her from humiliation. Nothing more.

Vincent opened the door to his newly assigned housing unit, which he'd already slept in a few nights. It still didn't feel at home. It rose two-stories and had a yard in the back. A perfect picture of suburban bliss. Thankfully furnished ahead of his arrival, every room was packed with the generic couches, chairs, desks, beds, lamps, and other things normal people accumulated. Living room, family room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom downstairs, bathroom upstairs, one bedroom, two bedrooms, three bedrooms, another bathroom. Rooms everywhere. The house was big enough for all of AVALANCHE. Nearly. It was far more space than he needed by himself. He only required a single room. This was ridiculous.

Standing in the largest bedroom, he stared out of the window and down the hill at the smaller duplex homes, wondering about the identity of his neighbors. Likely there were families inside that would be able to use this space. He felt guilty for being the only occupant. He went downstairs and looked around the large kitchen, deciding what to do next. Pulling open the refrigerator door, he held it open and looked for something to eat, glad to see Tifa's leftover stew and cornbread from a couple of nights ago. He grabbed the containers and heated them in the microwave.

Sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island, he ate alone as usual. The only difference this night was the big house that surrounded him. Once he finished eating, he cleaned the dishes and felt a pang of loneliness, a feeling he was not accustomed to harboring but was growing in his consciousness. The vast space made his solitude feel like a cold blanket. The emptiness felt wrong. He didn't belong here. The house should hold a big family. One that he would never have.

Maybe in his distant past, there had been a time he wanted such a life. This would have been the exact home he'd have wanted if he could've convinced Lucrecia to marry him.

His mood soured at the thought. He had felt his emotions clearer in the past few months, no longer clouded with residual remorse over his former love. In place of the guilt, an indifference had been creeping in at the thought of her. He tried to push her out of his mind. Time was stretching his feelings thin, and with it came relief from the constant forlorn brooding that had become his identity. He was tired of thinking about the past.

He wanted to focus on more recent times when his guilt wasn't always at the forefront of his mind and thoughts of Lucrecia weren't dominating his every waking moment. He had finally come to terms with what had happened between them. He was at a point to admit to himself that thinking about her would always keep his emotions raw and unhealed, and with himself forever stuck in the past. It was time to move forward like everyone else.

He glanced around the house again and thought himself undeserving of it. A home like this wasn't meant for a perpetual bachelor. It should be filled with a loving family, kids and dogs and cats and a wife with long, dark hair and brown eyes with flecks of crimson. Tifa should have a house like this—if anyone deserved it. She would make it cozy and warm for a family.

Vincent shook his head as he imagined his young friend standing barefoot in the kitchen. He went back upstairs and tried to sleep, hoping to drive thoughts of all women from his brain.

WRO Meetings

He stared out of the window of his new office when Reeve suddenly appeared at the door. "Good morning, Vincent. I'm glad to see you," he said as he placed documents on Vincent's desk.

"What's this?" Vincent thumbed through the papers, suddenly irritated at the thought of paperwork.

"Oh, nothing that requires your stamp. It's a list of local restaurants and numbers I had my secretary print out. I like the feel of the paper when I'm deciding what to eat and thought you might too." Vincent thought Reeve might be a little touched but said nothing.

"So!" Reeve said as he clapped his hands together. "First meeting this morning is with the Medical Science Department. I thought we might walk together."

Vincent followed Reeve through the hallways to the elevator. "First meeting?" Hopefully, his days wouldn't be filled with pointless face-to-face in stuffy conference rooms.

"First for me, that is. You should attend this one, but the rest are optional unless you need the conversation." He chuckled at his own joke, and Vincent stared ahead of them, reining the urge to roll his eyes.

Once they arrived at the conference room, Reeve motioned for Vincent to pick a seat. "Anywhere you like is fine. We try to keep things informal, although the host does sit at the front." Reeve smirked as he stood near the seat at the head of the table. Vincent glanced around the room and decided to sit in a corner near a large plant. Reeve glared at him with a thin smile and looked down at his notebook, giving up on that losing battle before it started.

Voices suddenly echoed in from the hallway, and four employees wearing lab coats and pocket protectors filed into the room. "Ok everyone, please find a seat so we can get started," Reeve directed to the room as he waited patiently for the others to settle.

After the scientists were seated Reeve began the meeting, holding out a hand in Vincent's direction. "I'm sure you're aware that Mr. Valentine has agreed to join the organization full-time." Vincent resisted the urge to hide in his cowl as all the faces in the room turned toward him. Their eyes studied him, evaluated—an unpleasant reminder of Hojo and his kind.

"I won't ask the room to introduce themselves, Vincent is aware of your occupation, so I'll continue informally." Reeve pointed around the room as he continued introductions. Each doctor nodded toward Vincent at their name. "This is Professor Sandra Rayleigh, department head. Next to her is Dr. Sybil Shelly. And to my left is Dr. Daniel Simon, and our youngest resident, Dr. Carlos Bernard."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Valentine," Dr. Shelly looked to him with a smile and tucked a strand of her straight, black hair behind an ear. He found her heavy make-up a little distracting, but still caught a familiar, almost mad scientist glint to her eyes. He offered her a quick nod in response.

"Ahem—There's no point in delaying," Reeve began and turned toward the woman to his right. "Professor Rayleigh, has there been any progress?"

"Unfortunately, no." She shook her head, adjusting her thick-rimmed glasses on her nose, and passed him a few documents she pulled out of a folder. "We're not seeing the same results with every mother, but even those that are responding to the treatment are still weak and exhibiting symptoms of autoimmune disorders. That single complication alone makes them more susceptible to everything from a common cold to the chocobo flu virus and much worse."

Vincent studied each doctor at the table. Dr. Simon nodded along with Rayleigh's report, occasionally interrupting with his own observation. Bernard seemed more like a student and took notes, although he likely already had all the information in front of him. Dr. Shelly seemed less attentive. She turned her head toward Vincent, offering him a subtle smile. He repressed a shudder and focused on Rayleigh's report.

Her tone was grave as she spoke. Vincent sensed the immediate worry in her voice. "The pregnancies have so far been overwhelmed with several difficulties emerging during progression. We haven't identified every disease or disorder they've suddenly become susceptible to—symptoms are unpredictable and extreme when they surface—and still no standard treatments work unless we've first supplemented with a low dosage of the mako formula used in the SOLDIER program."

"Unfortunately, we feel we need to look to the past, Commissioner." Dr. Simon interjected. He was a thin scientist with a goatee and wire-rimmed glasses. His voice was filled with regret as he continued. "We simply have no recent records of any pregnancies of a fetus with—"

"Yes, but Dr. Simon," Shelly spoke up, ignoring the glare she received from Simon. "None of those pregnancies occurred using sperm from a mako or Jenova cell-infused specimen—"

"We've been through this Sybil," his voice rose with anger at his colleague. "It's the only research we have to start with, and they're not specimens—they're husbands and soon-to-be fathers." Vincent agreed with his term correction. Specimen was something Hojo would have said. "Carlos, do you mind?" Simon motioned for the younger man next to him to pass out the documents he brought.

"Yes, Sir." The young man stood and passed the papers around the table. He politely handed one to Vincent, quickly retreating to his seat as if he feared being bitten. Vincent stared at the document that contained a list of names, years, and locations. Many had been crossed out with a comment at the end: DECEASED. Others ended with the comments "RETIRED" or "UNKNOWN," followed by their last known location.

"Thank you, Doctor Bernard." Reeve glanced at the document, reading through the list with his brows drawn in concern. "This is the direction you're certain we need to go?" He looked to Professor Rayleigh for confirmation.

"Commissioner," she began slowly, and Vincent noted a hint of regret in her voice. "We're not exactly starting from scratch. But the plain truth is—there has not been a single pregnancy of this kind in 35 years. Our patients need immediate attention. We've now lost four mothers—and one has not responded to treatments at all. Another two are not responding as well as we'd hoped. Only Molly Samuels is responding positively. But I'm worried since she's not gaining as much weight as she should be."

"And you never reviewed any of that research during your tenure with the SOLDIER program?" His pointed question brought her chin up a couple of degrees. The subject appeared touchy for her. "Not even aware of anything they were given or implanted with that caused sterility?"

"I was involved with the SOLDIER program briefly, Commissioner." She became defensive and glanced around the room with a pleading glint to her eyes. "Those records were classified to anyone that wasn't part of the original program. Or at least a full-fledged assistant researcher. I wasn't even sure where the archives were kept."

"Don't worry yourself with it, Sandra," Dr. Simon reached out a hand to comfort her. "You only knew what we were all told at the time."

"Yes, well—unfortunately, it now appears that things have come full circle. Commissioner, we have no choice. We simply must obtain the old archives." Most at the table appeared rankled at the prospect of unearthing the research of two mad scientists who were both thankfully now dead. Except Sybil. Vincent noted a smirk quickly appear and fade.

Reeve held up a hand toward Professor Rayleigh, trying to calm her before he spoke again. "Please, Professor. I understand your concerns. We all do." Reeve perused the faces around the table before continuing. "We've been thinking of doing this for some time but simply didn't have staff available for collections missions. Which is why," he said dramatically and held a hand toward Vincent. "I asked Vincent to join our meeting. He will be heading a team into whatever is left of the Deepground labs to ensure nothing eluded our previous sweep. We will also be revisiting the ShinRa mansion basement labs in Nibelheim. Those archives have largely remained untouched, but we need to collect them for historical record and to ensure no one else obtains it." He said gravely.

"There is also concern over the long-term health of these children," Dr. Simon stared down at his hands as he spoke. "There is significant worry specifically about their mental—"

"They won't be growing up in labs, Daniel." Rayleigh crossed her arms across her chest, indicating she did not want to broach the subject. He looked to Reeve as if pleading for him to intervene.

"Yes, well—I think we can table that discussion for now. I understand your concerns, Doctor. We should outline a plan beyond post-natal care and continue to monitor through school-age." Reeve sighed as he finished speaking, appearing to weigh the size of such a monumental task.

Dr. Bernard spoke up at that point after having sat in silence throughout the entire exchange. "I can help with that, Commissioner. I'd be happy to be involved with that program."

"Thank you, Carlos," Dr. Simon said before looking to Dr. Rayleigh for agreement. Vincent thought she appeared satisfied when she offered no objection.

"So, we're looking for them, then?" Dr. Rayleigh finally spoke after everyone remained silent for a few moments. "Are we trying to track them all down? Or only those that stayed with the program after it moved to Midgar?"

"Yes, all of them," Reeve clarified and looked to Vincent. "I believe we should first have Mr. Valentine's team complete the collection missions, however. I'd sooner be done with that, and I fear the longer we wait, the sooner someone else will have it. In the meantime, we can make friendly calls to those who retired. They're not in hiding, so it's safe to assume they won't fear at least talking to us."

The meeting concluded with moods thoroughly pessimistic, and the scientists filed out of the conference room in silence. Vincent ignored Dr. Shelly as she walked past, giving him further appraisal as if he were a lab rat. She was proving herself hard to like already.

Once they were alone, Reeve turned to Vincent and pointed toward the list. "I believe a good many listed as deceased may have met their untimely end by their subject's hand."

"Or his father's," Vincent smirked at the memory of his near murder at the hands of Professor Hojo.

"Do you recall any of these names?"

Vincent looked at the paper again and nodded. "I can start looking into where the survivors have gone after we complete the first two missions. I want this to be quick." Vincent glanced at Reeve and saw the concern in his face. "This worries you?"

"You won't like it—but we need to talk to Rufus about what they might still have. Ask for any data related to research and personnel. He'll likely want to keep any findings out of public knowledge. As time has gone by, more are skeptical of the ShinRa version what happened with Sephiroth. Some believe the company killed him to avoid a conspiracy or spill their secrets," he scoffed and shook his head. He started walking out of the conference room and paused in invitation for Vincent to follow him. "He's sending one of his Turks to the office today to set up a meeting, although I'm not sure why we need to meet in advance."

Vincent didn't like the idea of involving ShinRa and guessed the man would insist his Turks assist. The new generation lacked the same discipline he had been accustomed to before his forced retirement. Vincent fell into step next to Reeve, thoughts drifting back to the scientists in the meeting. "Dr. Rayleigh worked on the SOLDIER program?" They stopped in front of the elevators and Reeve glanced around as if to ensure no one was listening.

"Yes, she worked in the program shortly after receiving her doctorate. Unfortunately, not long after, she was kidnapped by AVALANCHE. They stole some data she was known to be carrying at the time." Reeve chuckled as he continued to reveal the story. "Interestingly, she was rescued by a former Turk whose name I don't recall and a young infantryman by the name of Cloud Strife."

Vincent stared at him as he did the mental math, calculating it must have occurred 13 or so years ago. "She knows Cloud?"

"Yes, I'm sure she remembers him. Although I'm not sure how much he recalls. His memory is quite unreliable of the time he spent with the company—" Reeve paused as the elevator opened and several people passed by them. Once they entered the carriage and the doors closed, Reeve continued, "I'm planning on asking Tifa and Cloud to accompany you on the Deepground mission, unless you know of anyone else you would rather have—"

"No, they make a good team," Vincent agreed without meeting Reeve's eyes. "Likely, the Turks will be forced on us. Can help keep them in check."

"I thought the same. The more people with you we can trust the more we ensure no shenanigans. I want ShinRa reluctant to be uncooperative." They stepped off the elevator and continued through the building in silence.

As they turned the hall toward Reeve's office, Vincent slowed at the sight of Tseng, the Turks' current Director. "I'll leave you to your meeting." Vincent passed Tseng without acknowledging the man and continued down the hallway. He had no desire to meet with the Turks just yet. He would leave the details to Reeve until they could be sure of ShinRa's cooperation.

Once back at his house, Vincent again resented its emptiness. The large space felt hollow, sending hushed echoes through his usually crowded mind. He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. No leftovers. She did mention he could come by as often as he liked for dinner. The prospect offered a much better option than takeout.