On Silver Wings – chapter 7

AWAKENING

“Get your ass down to the labs, Reeve. Sephiroth’s awake and I could really use some help here.”

“He’s what?!”

“Awake, Reeve. We have a bit of a situation here — nothing serious, but it’s chaotic enough without having aides running around with broken noses. I need someone to handle this guy, because honestly, I can’t.”

“We’ll be right down. Thank you, Diane.”

She put down the cordless phone back in its cradle and frowned. Reeve had obviously downplayed their conversation; she knew he’d promised Cloud not to alert anyone if anything went wrong. Still, considering their current situation, his reaction had been surprisingly calm and collected. She hadn’t just talked with Reeve, she’d talked with President Reeve, and that was disconcerting. Everything’s politics to him.

She understood his desire for control, and his wish not to induce panic, but she couldn’t fathom how he always managed to stay so calm; she herself usually felt more at ease with a very direct, none-too-subtle approach to life. Reeve’s strength, and the reason he was so far doing a great job managing the derelict corporation, was in being her complete and total opposite. If the man felt it necessary to pussyfoot around the subject in order to try and keep some semblance of order, it was fine with her. She simply couldn’t help feeling that it was all an illusion at this point.

She knew they weren’t in control; had known it from the beginning, when the man had fought the drugs and made her job that much harder. No matter what Cloud Strife assured her, no matter how many times he came down here with that hard-set look to his eyes, Diane knew none of them were in any position to pretend that they knew what they were doing anymore. And she certainly wasn’t equipped to deal with what the silver-haired man could throw at her. If things had calmed down now, it was only because he’d agreed to wait until the new president of Neo-ShinRa showed up.

“Fuck. This could go very bad, very fast.” She shook her head and signalled a nearby nurse. “How’s Roland?”

The nurse cringed. “He’ll live. But it’s a nasty wound, and a pretty bad break… He’s going to be alright, but someone will have a fun job trying to reconstruct his nose.”

She sighed, ran a hand through her short hair and puffed in exasperation. “I told that idiot not to stand so damned close… Send Doctor Levine to see to him; I have to get back out there before something else happens.”

* * *

He became aware of his surroundings in stages, and that was the first clue that he wasn’t simply waking up. Sound came to him first, gnarled and distorted, as though he was underwater. It brought back memories of the Wutai war, nighttime ambushes in the marshes and rain-slicked troops advancing in the dark. He knew as his brain fizzled to life that the memory was an old one, but he couldn’t place it. He felt numb and heavy; his head throbbed and he could barely make out a sort of buzz, distant but annoying all the same, like a crowd shouting just out of hearing. He thought he heard his name, and panicked voices shouting jumbled nonsense.

The feeling in his limbs came back next, disorienting for his lack of vision. His arms and legs tingled unpleasantly, and this time he was reminded of countless nights of guard duty as a young Soldier, arms and legs falling asleep as he slumped against his post to try and catch a few hours’ worth of rest. The memory faltered and spun out of his reach, leaving him confused and annoyed.

He twitched an arm and felt immediate resistance. A frown, then, which made him aware of the rest of his body; he was lying down, on a cold, hard surface. And he was restrained.

His chest tightened, panic rose briefly then fell, and was replaced by sharp, hard anger. Hojo. Another bloody test. Where was he, this time? The man had a habit of moving his laboratories when ShinRa reduced his funding. This echoing place was alien to him, and he supposed he must be in yet another new facility. In the mountains, somewhere, out of reach of ShinRa’s lawyers and Midgar’s rebels.

He fought to keep his breathing even and slow as the pleasant thought of his hands around the skinny scientist’s throat rose up in his mind; no point in alerting anyone that he was awake, if they didn’t already know. Light seeped in slowly from under his lashes and he felt himself come awake fully, felt his limbs start to respond and his mind slowly clear. He started discerning the sounds he had heard at first. Definitely voices, definitely scientists.

Directly at his left, close by, he felt a hint of something familiar, a breathless excitement that made the bile rise up in his throat.

“Oh, good, he’s conscious. Finally! Here, hold this, I’ll check his I.V. in case we need to put him under again.”

A sense of movement then, and he almost felt the man’s hand brush against his arm. The anger rose up again, before he could get a firm grip on it, and it slipped his control entirely. Put me under again, Hojo… Well, fuck you! As he felt the other man lower himself to his left arm, he pulled with the other, hard, and broke the leather restraint easily. His right arm had been lying at his side, and that left him almost a full four feet of swing before he reached the other man’s face. He opened his eyes just as he felt the very satisfying crunch of the bastard’s bones under his fist…

Shit. Not Hojo at all.

He had a few second of blessed silence in which to reflect that ShinRa’s scientists really ought to develop their own personality and mannerisms; they were all way too much alike for comfort. And then the world exploded around him, and he blinked in surprise as two dozen armed guards sprung up around him, rifles trained directly at his face, unwavering.

A quick glance around him confirmed that the masamune was nowhere close by, and while his current predicament was unpleasant, he knew ShinRa required him to cooperate with Hojo’s tests. A full blown attack on the company’s leading scientist’s team would be more than frowned upon, so he sat back down and waited. Eventually, a small, rather mousy-looking woman pushed through the ranks and came to squat by the wounded doctor’s side. She checked for a pulse and gingerly felt the broken contours of the man’s face, cringing. Apparently satisfied that the man was still alive, she signalled two other nurses who dragged the unconscious doctor away; he trailed blood the entire way to the exit, and Sephiroth smirked.

He turned to the woman, who was apparently in charge. “Where’s Hojo?”

She flinched, and two of the guards around him took a hesitant step back. A few of the closer ones looked nervous, and one of the younger ones was sweating profusely and seemed to be on the verge of collapse. Sephiroth frowned. He’d never been known for his social graces, but this was bordering on ridiculous.

“Reeve’s coming down here in a few minutes, he’ll explain everything. You’re not in one of Hojo’s labs.”

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at her, unsure if he’d heard her right. “Reeve? Why the hell would I want to talk to Reeve?” Around him, more flinching, and one guard shot the woman an uncertain look which she ignored.

“Look, what the hell’s going on here?” He pulled against the other restraint and it gave in with a sad tearing sound. He’d been staring at the woman, trying to pull her face from his memory. When the restraint gave and his arm came up, he was shocked to feel a bullet hit him squarely in the shoulder.

The sound of the lone gunshot reverberated through the now silent hall and Sephiroth grimaced. He shifted his gaze to the trooper who had fired and managed, gritting his teeth, not to reach for the man’s throat. The grunt took two wavering steps back as Sephiroth reached for the wound with his good hand; he dug his fingers in and managed to extricate a sad, flattened metal disk which he sent flying across the floor with a flick of his fingers. The trooper’s face blanched.

“Okay, everybody just calm down. Reeve’s already on his way. You three, back off, give the man some air.” The woman pushed past the troopers closest to the steel bed and motioned a nurse forward. “Get me some bandages, we can’t use Materia at this point; I don’t want to risk mako-poisoning.”

She shifted her eyes to him, and Sephiroth was surprised to find a silent plea there, and a hint of annoyance. “Please, just play nice, would you? I swear Reeve will explain everything; nobody here wants a bloodbath.”

After a long silence, he huffed at her and nodded. “Fine.”

She gave a slight nod, and a relieved little smile. The nurse she’d sent for supplies came back and she made quick work of his wound; it was cleaned, staunched and dressed in very little time. As she walked away back to her office, Sephiroth took another look at his surroundings.

He was definitely not in one of Hojo’s labs; the man would never allow a female scientist with a clear head on his team, not without risking some serious bruises to his already expansive ego. The troopers surrounding him were laughably nervous; several of the rifles were now trembling slightly, and the younger one who had shot him was no longer in sight. They were all in uniform, but to Sephiroth’s trained eye they were rag-tag, not a single one of them in proper stance, their defensive position broken and scattered.

He could spot two breaches in the circle of men and one of the troopers kept glancing back at the scientists behind him, his aim wavering off Sephiroth every few seconds. He was outnumbered and outgunned yet he knew he could break out of the hall without breaking much of a sweat and, barring some freak accident, with minimal risk to his life.

It was, in short, a pitiful guard force. Hojo would’ve had trained, very well-paid Soldiers keeping an eye on him; this was ridiculous at best and insulting at worst.

He swung his legs over the side of the steel slab and rested his elbows on his knees, settling in for a long wait; ShinRa officials weren’t known for punctuality. The circle of guards around him grew bigger as he moved, then relaxed again. He sighed.

At his side, the nurse who had been taking away the soiled sponges and bandages the doctor had used to clean his wounds flushed a deep, embarrassed red and fled. Sephiroth realized that the thin cotton sheet which had been covering him had slipped and fallen. A few minutes later, a well-pressed and folded generic ShinRa uniform was hastily deposited on the furthest corner of the steel bed. He ignored it.

ShinRa officials… Of all the people the President could have sent down, Reeve seemed the least likely choice. The man was head of urban development; he’d never had anything to do with any of Hojo’s projects, and Sephiroth even doubted if he knew about Hojo’s involvement in Soldier Division’s genetic enhancements. Even Scarlet, as head of weapon research, could’ve had an excuse to come down here herself and gloat.

The fact that it was Reeve who would be explaining his present situation spoke volumes to him. Something had happened, and there was nothing he could do now but wait.

* * *

As they made their way down to the science wing, chaos and crowded corridors slowly gave way to dead silence and empty halls. Cloud knew everyone who had any right to be in this area had a fairly important job to do somewhere in the room up ahead, and wouldn’t be hanging about in the halls dejectedly.

But the silence got to him all the same. The air was heavy around him, and as they neared the big double doors Cloud felt his chest constrict painfully. It was probably just fear, and a growing sense of dread, that made him feel giddy and a little out of breath; the alternative was unthinkable. Hollcomb had assured him several times that, as far as she could tell, Sephiroth’s Jenova cells were dormant. Whatever physical effect he felt now was simply a reflection of his own fears and nightmares.

He nodded to himself slowly as they approached, then stopped. Tifa nearly collided with his back as he slowed and he turned to look at the group that was now turning as one man to stare at him.

He sent Tifa a small, nervous smile, which she returned. “Guys, I’m going to have to ask you to wait on the second floor railing.” He pointed to the nearest hallway on his left. “It’s right that way, you’ll get to see everything and you’ll be close by if anything happens.”

Tifa had a questioning look on her face. “Why, Cloud? I’m sure it’ll just be easier if we’re all nearby,” she said. She paused, searching his eyes. “With you.”

Zack, at his side, reassuring and warm, came to his aid. “We can’t have too many people down there, Tif. To keep security tight, for one. Also, because we don’t want to seem to be putting on a challenge, you know? Seph’s never been one for crowds.”

Tifa’s face twisted slightly and Cloud winced. They’d talked about this several times, but the nickname seemed to have slipped Zack’s lips. “Seph…?” She looked up at Cloud, unsure. “I’m sorry, are going to nickname every mass murderer that comes our way?”

A sharp, pointed sting in his chest, another guilt he didn’t need. He sighed, raked a hand through his hair tiredly; he was alienating himself from the only people who could possibly care about him.

Too late to back down now. “No Tif, just those mass murderers we’re bringing back from the dead. The stairs to the second floor are right there… Please.”

With a huff the brunette turned away. “Fine!”

Yuffie followed the young fighter with an apologetic look on her face, and Barrett and Cid, who had watched the exchange in silence, went after her. Cid gave him a thumbs up and a grin as he passed. Vincent approached him and gave his shoulder a squeeze before following suit.

And that was that. Nothing left now but to go in; no more excuses, no more stalling, nothing standing between him and whatever lay on that slab of steel.

“C’mon Spike, Red’s up there already, he can deal with whatever mood swing Tifa wants to throw at him.”

“Right.”

The blond didn’t move. Zack frowned, dropped a hand on his friend’s shoulder lightly. “He’s fine, man. Trust me. Diane said he’d already woken up, right? If the shit was going to hit the fan, we’d be knee deep in it by now. I mean, one scientist with a black eye isn’t exactly Jenova’s style, you know?” He paused, gave the shoulder a slight shake, and almost gasped as the blond looked up at him.

Zack hadn’t talked with the others much about everything that had happened after he’d died, but he knew enough about Cloud’s state of mind to expect him to be a little fragile. His newfound confidence as he’d led Avalanche against Jenova had been thoroughly shaken when Aerith had died, and from what he’d understood, the blond had never fully recovered. He’d put up a strong front, out of habit, even after Jenova had fallen, even after the remnants had been defeated.

That front was gone now, and in the blond’s eyes he thought he recognized the young cadet he remembered from his ShinRa days. Zack knew Cloud would never let Tifa see him crumble like this, and he supposed he should feel lucky, despite his own fear that he was less than ill-equipped to help.

He sent the younger man his best, most dazzling smile and hoped he was doing the right thing by pushing him like this. “Hey. We can do this, man.”

A pause, and Zack took the time to search his friend’s face; fear there, naked and raw, overwhelming and absolute; a barely controlled panic he would never let the others see. And, something else, something Zack would never had recognized if he hadn’t already known about it, something pure and absolutely unthinkable; a longing to be accepted, to be acknowledged, by the one man he had never dared meet face to face. A longing to surrender, a twisted and strange desire for the silver-haired man that the blond had only once been able to put words to. Zack inwardly grimaced. Yeah, and you had to get him stinkin’ drunk to get even that much out of him.

Eventually the blond’s face settled into an approximation of his usual look, although now that Zack had seen through the mask it was a little easier to see the edges where Cloud’s facade broke. His friend was more than exhausted, that much was clear, running only on adrenaline and pure guts at this point. Once this meeting was over and done with, Zack was going to drag the blond into his quarters and force him to stay in there and sleep.

“Yeah, I can do this… Thank you, Zack, for being here.”

“Don’t mention it, Spike.” Sending a small grin the other’s way, he shrugged. “Where else would I be, man? My season pass to the Golden Saucer is expired, you know that.”

Cloud’s eyes lit up, a small glimpse of the man he still was, buried under that shell. The blond allowed himself to laugh at his antics, more a nervous expulsion of breath than anything, but to Zack’s ears it was heaven.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Although he had steeled himself prior to entering the main hall, it was still a shock to see the silver-haired man sitting there amidst the hustle of Neo-ShinRa staff. His very presence dominated the room, and everyone around him seemed to be entirely focused on either observing him or very carefully avoiding him. The man was wearing a pair of nondescript Neo-ShinRa uniform slacks, his chest bare. Cloud could see the dress shirt crumpled and carelessly tossed against the farther railing of the steel bed; it probably hadn’t fit. Something he hadn’t thought of, in his haste to get this over with; he’d suggested Hollcomb keep a spare uniform down here but hadn’t bothered to check the fit.

In a haze of nervous fear he focused on this small detail; it was a comforting thought, a normal thought. In hindsight, perhaps he shouldn’t have provided the man with a military uniform. Civilian clothes might have been more appropriate, more neutral. He was dimly aware that a small, choked chuckle escaped him. Shopping for Sephiroth. What an insanely stupid idea.

Zack turned to him, a worried frown on his usually cheerful face. The blond tried to wave his friend’s concern away but knew the other man didn’t buy it. He felt weak, dizzy even. The sleepless nights were trying to catch up to him at this incredibly inopportune moment. So damn weak… As they walked into the room Cloud looked back and up; the rest of Avalanche were standing on the railing with Reeve and several security guards. Tifa’s face was drawn, nervous. She sent a little wave his way and he managed a smile, hoping it would be enough to reassure her. Yuffie, Cid and Barrett seemed to be waiting, with varying degrees of patience; Yuffie was fidgeting, and as he looked up at them she reached over and drew closer to Tifa, sending the young fighter an encouraging smile.

He’d found an unlikely ally in Yuffie, and Cloud thanked whatever gods were listening that she seemed ready to help Tifa through this. Vincent and Red seemed a little more relaxed, although he knew they’d be ready for a fight if it came to that.

It was Reeve who bothered him the most. The man was sending him a look of such concern and pity he almost panicked for a moment. Had Zack told the man anything? Had Reeve simply put two and two together and come to the only logical conclusion on his own? Had Hollcomb herself guessed? He’d avoided coming down to the labs because he couldn’t stand the woman’s gaze on him; she was perceptive and smart, and he didn’t like her.

“Commander Fair.”

Sephiroth’s smooth voice brought Cloud out of his paranoia so fast he almost walked right into Zack, who had stopped a few feet from the steel bed. The blond took a few steps back and managed to keep himself out of view, out of reach of Sephiroth’s piercing green eyes. A nurse was at the man’s side, jotting down notes in a ledger as she checked the health sensor attached to the silver-haired man’s arm. Cloud frowned.

“It’s good to see you again, Seph.” And the way Zack said those words made the blond’s blood run cold. He knew what his friend meant; it was good to see him as he was, as he always should’ve been, before Jenova poisoned his mind.

“I was told Reeve would explain my current situation. He seems intent on staying up there and staring down at me.” Sephiroth sent a nasty look at the nurse and gently pushed her hand away as she reached towards his face with a pen light. She shrank back, and Zack put a hand on her shoulder.

“Give us a few minutes, miss.”

There was a pause, a few breathless seconds, and Cloud was shocked to hear his own voice, blessedly unwavering.

“No. Not a few minutes. No more tests. Hollcomb promised me there wouldn’t be any of this.”

He almost shrank back as Sephiroth looked at him, surprised to hear him speak. The man hadn’t looked his way, not once. Cloud wasn’t surprised; he was unimportant to the man, the shadow of a young trooper.

But as Sephiroth stared at him his eyes widened, pupils dilating. He hissed a small breath and steadied himself by snapping his arm towards Zack and grabbing the black-haired man’s elbow. Zack looked down at him in surprise.

“Seph? You okay, man?”

In Sephiroth’s eyes Cloud saw recognition, and panic. It was the most emotion he’d ever seen swirling there and the blond’s chest tightened uncomfortably. He’s human. Definitely stronger, and maybe a little strange, but human all the same.

When the silver-haired man spoke it was with a slight edge of nervousness in his voice, a breathless panic that Cloud knew well; a feeling of spinning out of control, of having Hojo’s hands pulling the strings of his life. And the blond knew Sephiroth had recognized him, had known him as the sixteen-year old trooper who had followed Zack around like a lovesick child.

“How long have I been out, Zack? How long?”