Chapter 7

WRO Village


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

"Where you headed?"

He didn't look up as he stuffed packages into the compartments of his motorcycle seat. "Deliveries today."

"Yeah?" She pulled a foot up behind her, eyes wary as he slammed the seat. "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. "I'm gonna stay local for a while. Give Barret more help in New Harbor."

"Oh?" she said, tone sweet with her surprise. His gentle reply made her feel guilty. She knew she had been short-tempered with him since the wedding. Maybe longer.

Tifa moaned as she continued to stretch her limbs, waiting for him to continue. He hadn't mentioned before that he was no longer taking long trips, so she wondered how long this would last. 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?"

"I'm going to the village to see Molly. I should be back before dinner." 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 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, reminding her of home 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, keep your spirits up until the doctors can tell you what's going on."

"Hmm…about that," Molly said, 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, doing all the menstrual and pregnancy checks and whatnot. That darn 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 being 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 cheering. 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.

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 said, trying to keep the worry out of her voice, but with everything Reeve had mentioned, it was hard not to be concerned. She sipped her tea to hide her dejected expression.

"Oh, I'm doing alright, barely any mornin' sickness to speak of. I'm only a couple months in, so I expect it might get a little rougher. If I was carrying a regular bundle, I should be due by November. But that Dr. Bernard thinks I'll last only til 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."

Since Molly tried to make light of the situation, Tifa smiled brightly, feigning to do the same. "That's good to hear. Are you guys staying in this house? Doesn't Pete want 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 asked.

Tifa shrugged 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, 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, until it fell on top of her and spilled 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. "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 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."

"What?" Tifa asked, pouting.

"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 Ma'am—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, then gave Tifa a peck on the cheek and slapped her rear, giggling her way back to the porch as Tifa 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 the family dinner. 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. Though he'd already laid claim to it with his meager possessions tucked away in a closet—some weapons and materia—it still wasn't home. At least, not his home.

It rose two stories and had a yard in the back. Reeve had generously ordered it furnished ahead of Vincent's arrival, every room packed with generic comfort. 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.

Picture perfect suburban bliss.

The house was big enough for all of AVALANCHE and far more space than Vincent needed for himself. He only required a single room, occasionally.

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. It shamed him to be the only occupant. He went downstairs and looked around the large kitchen, unsure of 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, he ate alone as usual. The only difference this night was the big house that surrounded him. A pang of loneliness hit him as he washed the dishes, a feeling he was not accustomed to harboring but was growing in his consciousness. The vast space was cold. The emptiness…wrong.

He didn't belong here.

The house should hold a big family. It should welcome a newly wedded couple, in love and in a place to make babies. Perhaps Yuffie and Yuri needed a new home. They'll start their family soon enough, he wagered.

Tifa could use it. She deserved it far more than Vincent. But she might feel that lonely ache in such a big place. He laughed to himself. Maybe they could be roommates. She was more than accustomed to that arrangement.

He recalled their awkward conversation that evening, under a moonlit balcony with the sound of waves and music. She deserved nights like that. She deserved so much more. Romance. A comfortable, secure family life.

One that he would never have. A life he couldn't offer.

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 and the corrupted cells thrummed harder in his sternum. 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 past absorbing his present.

He wanted to focus on 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. 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. Smiling at her children. Smiling at him.

Fingers raked through his hair at his mind's path. Definitely developing a minor crush.

He trudged upstairs and tried to sleep, hoping to drive thoughts of all women from his brain.


Reeve caught him staring out of the window in his new office. "Good morning, Vincent. I'm glad to see you." Reeve scattered a stack of documents across the desk.

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

"Oh, nothing that requires your stamp. It's coupons and 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 research department. I thought we might walk together."

"First meeting?"

"First for me, that is. You should attend this one, but the rest are optional unless you need the conversation." Reeve 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 head." Reeve smirked as he claimed the seat of honor.

Vincent glanced around the room and decided to sit in a corner near a large plant. Reeve's smile thinned as he looked down at his notebook, giving up on that losing battle before it started. Vincent wouldn't sit at the table.

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 said as he waited patiently for the others to settle. "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 to continue introductions, each doctor nodding 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 smiled 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 in 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, 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. 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. Minus the Jenovah cells, of course."

"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. "If you recall our last conversation during our trials, none of those pregnancies occurred using sperm from a mako or Jenova cell-infused specimen—"

"We've been through this, Sybil," Simon said, voice rising. "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.

His ears perked and his head turned toward Dr. Shelley as she grumbled under her breath. "You care now that the commissioner can hear you."

None of the others seemed to hear her, though her tone and discontent rang clear in Vincent's ears. She glanced up at him from her down-turned head, but looked away just as quickly when she realized Vincent's gaze was boring into her.

He pulled his eyes from her and gave his attention back to the discussion. Shelley seemed silenced after Simon's scolding.

"Carlos, do you mind?" Simon motioned for the younger man next to him to pass out the documents he brought.

"Yes, sir." Carlos 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 at 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 that didn't result in a fatality of either the mother, baby or both. 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 once we confirmed her symptoms were pregnancy."

"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 in 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."

Though Rayleigh made the declaration, the former ShinRa professor appeared rankled at the prospect of unearthing horrors of the past. The others around the table voiced their concerns all at once. Except Sybil, whose eyes snapped to her superior. Vincent noted Simon's slight shake of his head before she looked away, a smirk fading on her face just as quickly as it appeared.

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, dramatic as he 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's basement labs in Nibelheim. Some archives have largely remained untouched, but we need to collect them for historical record and to ensure no one else obtains it."

"Commissioner, forgive my interruption, but there is also concern over the long-term health of these children." Dr. Simon stared at his hands as he spoke. "There is significant worry specifically about their mental stability and potential physical enhancements—mutations we can't foresee. I think we'll need to insist on monitoring their progress in a safe and secure environment."

"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.

"Sandra, I'm simply pointing out what we don't know. While the research may seem a legacy action to you, we cannot pass up the chance to possibly intervene or know more than we do now. I propose we set up a nursery and special housing units so that we can provide security to the children—"

"We will not take that position, Dr. Simon. I've been clear on this." Rayleigh 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. The question of raising them in a lab, however, will be taken only if the situation warrants. We'll take it case by case." Reeve sighed as he finished speaking, appearing to weigh the size of such a monumental task.

"And what is that criteria, Reeve?" Rayleigh's voice trembled. "They're children, not lab rats. The only precedent for this is one we should not repeat."

Vincent felt his face harden. For Reeve to even consider seemed unlike him, though Vincent could understand the concerns. They didn't know what they were dealing with as far as who the children would be when they finally entered the world. The Deepground SOLDIERs…their existence, the things they could do. He shuddered as he recalled Nero. Not only was he a young man possessed of godlike power to envelop his victims in shadow, to suck them into another dimension, but his mental faculties, his morality, were psychopathic.

"We will outline a plan beyond post-natal care and continue to monitor through school-age," Reeve said. "We'll come to an agreement on the particulars of monitoring and intervention before enacting the program."

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. "The researchers? Are we trying to track them all down? Or only those that stayed with the Jenovah program after it moved to Midgar?"

"Yes, all of them," Reeve clarified and looked at 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 quietly filed out of the conference room. Vincent ignored Dr. Shelly as she walked past, giving him further appraisal as if he were a lab mouse. She was proving herself hard to like already.

Once they were alone, Reeve turned to Vincent and pointed toward the list. "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 own 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." Vincent noted the concern on Reeve's 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 of what happened with Sephiroth. Some believe the company killed him to avoid a whistleblower situation."

He started walking out of the conference room and paused, inviting 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 said 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 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.