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Enjoy!

The FFML Refugee List

Well, after only a month delay, here's Chapter 3.  Feedback, public
or private, is both desperately craved and greatly appreciated. ^_^

This fic is told from Zack's point of view.  If you haven't
played FFVII all the way through, and don't know who Zack is
(sometimes romanized as "Zacks" or "Zax"), you might want to
bypass this spoiler-filled fic.

The previous chapters of this fic can be found on my site at:
http://www.akane.org/fanfiction

Warning: This fic contains less-than-pristine language, violence,
and non-explicit adult themes.


All But Blood
Chapter 3
A Final Fantasy VII Fanfic
by Krista Perry


~*~


      Dr. Rodney Lambert, the head Head-Shrink of the Shinra
Psychiatry & Mental Health Department, had one of the plushiest
corner offices in the Shinra Building.  As I stepped through the
doorway and felt my boots sink down a good inch into the thick
ivory-colored carpeting, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at
the spacious waiting room area, furnished with oak, leather, and
gold accent.  Typical of Lambert's taste for luxury.  I remember
hearing him once claim that the expensive decor was necessary to
make his patients feel comfortable.

      Huh.  For comfort, I'd take a run-down church in the slums
over this any day.

      Across the room, guarding the door to the inner office, the
receptionist sat behind her marble-topped desk.  She was peering
intently at her computer screen as her fingers flew over her
keyboard, and either didn't notice my entrance, or was ignoring
me, because she didn't look up as I approached.  To the left, a
huge window took up the entire wall, and a glance in that
direction treated me to a view of the bleak, polluted sprawl of
Midgar far below.

      Now, I never claimed to understand psychology, which is
supposed to be a very complex science.  But if you asked me, the
fact that the good Dr. Lambert apparently enjoyed his 52nd floor
view of the perpetually dark, smog-filled sky, and the city's
huge, black metal plates, which blocked any glimpse of the
overpopulated slums beneath... well, I think it spoke volumes
about his own state of mind.

      I secretly harbored strong suspicions that Shinra's
willingness to provide the doctor with his opulent accommodations
were due, not to any excellence in his profession, but rather to
his talent for always being able to tell President Shinra exactly
what he wanted to hear during the old man's therapy sessions.
Being the bright young man that I am, I kept these suspicions to
myself.  It was a well-known fact that one of the quickest ways
to get demoted in Shinra was to badmouth Lambert, or any of his
tight little clique of underlings.

      The receptionist still didn't look up when I reached her
desk, so I cleared my throat politely.  Frowning, she glanced my
way, and I felt a twinge of amusement as her expression quickly
changed from irritation to flustered surprise as she recognized
me.

      "Hello, Miss Davis," I said with a sincere smile that had
the effect of raising a blush to her cheeks.  She was a cute
girl, with short blond hair that nicely framed her pixie face,
and long legs that were always well-displayed by the mini-skirts
she habitually wore.  She wasn't nearly as beautiful as Aeris --
but then, no one could compare to Aeris, in my not-so-humble
opinion.  Still, she was attractive enough that she had grabbed
the attention of a few of my buddies.  I knew for a fact that
Johnson, who bunked across the hall from me, had a full blown
case of the hots for her.  He had yet to muster the courage to
ask her out, though, and whenever I teased him about it, he would
indignantly respond that he was working on some great master plan
for approaching her.  I had my doubts, since he had been working
on said master plan for over six months.

      "Lieutenant General Forester," she said, immediately giving
me her full, wide-eyed attention, as her suddenly-unoccupied
hands fluttered nervously about her desk.  "What a surprise."

      I laughed ruefully at her use of my official title, which
was far too long and presumptuous-sounding for my liking.
"Please," I said.  "Didn't I ask you to call me Zack?"

      Her hovering right hand finally found a pen, and she twirled
it between her fingers.  Having something to do with her hands
seemed to help ease her discomfiture.  "You did," she replied,
returning my smile.  "But I will only if you call me Sharon.
None of this formal 'Miss Davis' stuff."

      I grinned.  "Fair enough.  Sharon it is then."

      She beamed, and leaned forward on her desk.  "Well then,
what brings you here, Zack?"

      "Just looking for Dr. Lambert," I said, shrugging.  "Is he
around?"

      She nodded her head towards the closed door of his inner
office.  "He's in an appointment," she said.  "But he should be
out in a minute or so."  She flashed a more confident smile,
showing off her straight, gleaming white teeth.  "You're welcome
to wait for him if you want."

      I blinked.  The glint in her eye was somewhat less than
professional, and clued me in that she would be more than happy
to have me sit down and wait for Dr. Lambert, even if his
appointment took the rest of the day.

      Well, it was important that I talk to Dr. Lambert, and since
I knew that I was pretty good at keeping things on the Harmless
Flirting level, I sat down on a cushy leather chair and settled
myself in for a brief wait.  Sharon and I chatted for a bit,
mostly about the latest local news, like whether or not that new
terrorist group, Avalanche, was actually going to follow through
on some of its threats to sabotage Shinra.  I ended up reassuring
her that Shinra was perfectly safe, and that there was no way
Avalanche would be able to get through SOLDIER even if they tried
to follow through on their threats.

      However, as our conversation continued, and the "minute or
so" stretched into ten minutes, then twenty, with no sign of Dr.
Lambert, I couldn't help but notice that Sharon's body language
was changing from flirtatious to slightly seductive in spite of
the relatively safe subject material we were covering.  Before I
knew it, she was leaning forward so far on her desk, her hands
clasped coquettishly in front of her, that, with her
strategically low-cut blouse it became rather dangerous to look
in that vicinity.

      Don't get me wrong -- before I met Aeris, I would have taken
full opportunity to admire the view.  Some guys who don't know
any better would say that I was whipped.  But hey, I'm not
stupid, and I wasn't about to blow a good thing -- hell, the best
thing that had ever happened to me.  And in my mind, that meant
being faithful to Aeris, even if she wasn't around to appreciate
my restraint.

      So I was just thinking that it was time to bail before I got
myself into trouble, and was about to politely excuse myself,
when the door to the inner office opened and Lambert emerged.

      I was surprised to see the usually immaculate man looking
bit disheveled.  His tie was loose, and his white dress shirt was
wrinkled; the corner untucked and sticking out from under his
dark suit coat.

      Lambert blinked in surprise when he saw me sitting in his
waiting room.  I raised an enquiring eyebrow, but before I could
even offer a greeting, he was immediately followed out the door
by a rather mussed-looking woman in a sleek red dress, who was
busy tucking escaped strands of bleached blonde hair into the
tight bun on the back of her head.

      I think it was to my credit that I neither facially nor
vocally expressed my sudden horror as I realized who the woman
was.

      Scarlet, head of the Shinra Weapons Department.  A
steel-clad sadistic psycho bitch if there ever was one, and the
only woman I had ever met who could give me a case of the
screaming heebie-jeebies.  Her high-pitched, cackling laugh alone
gave me nightmares.  There was no doubt in my mind that the woman
needed serious therapy, but, looking back and forth between
Lambert and Scarlet, it was evident that they had been using the
doctor's couch for something other than counseling.

      The sight of the two of them together effectively rendered
me speechless.  Lambert seemed just as flustered by my unexpected
presence, and seemed to be struggling to come up with an
appropriate explanation for this blatant breech of decorum, when
Scarlet glanced up from primping and saw me.

      I swallowed hard as a predatory smile lit her face, and
suddenly wished that I could somehow vanish into the ultra-thick
carpet.

      "Why, Zack," she purred, giving me a sultry look.  "How
absolutely delightful to see you again.  You left so quickly from
the last presidential banquet that I didn't even get a chance to
visit with you."  That earned her a scowl from Lambert, who was
trying to regain his dignity while hastily tucking in his shirt,
but she pretended to be oblivious.

      Jeeze, talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire.
I found myself rising from my chair, not out of respect, but out
of a sudden impulse to flee... again.  It was no accident that
she hadn't managed to corner me at that last banquet.  "Visit,"
my ass.  She had blatantly stared at me all through the dinner,
as if she somehow planned on having me for dessert.

      Still, in spite of all this, I somehow managed a smile that
almost felt sincere.  "Please, ma'am," I said, without a trace of
sarcasm.  "Call me Lieutenant General Forester."

      Next to me, Sharon made a noise that sounded suspiciously
like a stifled a laugh.  Scarlet glared at her, then frowned at
me.  I just gave her a smile that was all boyish innocence.

      Lambert, whatever else he may have been, was smart enough to
recognize a potentially explosive situation when he saw it, and
he quickly stepped forward.  "Good to see you again, Lieutenant
General," he said, oozing diplomacy as he crossed the distance
between us.  I played along, all too willing to ignore Scarlet
and get down to business, and shook his outstretched hand firmly.
"So, what brings you to my office?"

      "Just some questions about one of the SOLDIER applicants," I
said.  "But if you're busy..."

      "No, no," he said hastily.  "Ms. Scarlet was just leaving.
Weren't you, dear?"

      The ice in the glare that Scarlet gave Lambert was enough to
freeze a man's soul.  To his credit, the doctor merely paled.  I
was just glad that the doctor was between her and me.

      Then she suddenly smiled, though the effect was hardly
warming.  "That's fine," she said, "I have another meeting in few
minutes anyway.  Same time next week, then, doctor?"

      "Um... yes.  Same time."

      And with that, she strode quickly out the door without a
backward glance.  I couldn't help but be relieved that she was
gone.

      Lambert immediately turned to Sharon, and lifted a warning
finger.  "Not one word of this to anyone, right?"

      Sharon rolled her eyes.  "As usual."

      He then turned back to me and gave me a stern look that
didn't quite manage to cover his anxiousness.  "I trust you will
be... discreet about this."  His tone was more of a statement
than a question.

      But I wasn't about to pass this one up.  "So," I said,
grinning.  "Office scrumping sessions.  Cool.  Is this some type
of radical new therapy?"

      For a moment, as the tips of his ears turned pink, I thought
he was going to get angry.  But then -- probably after realizing
that I was not one of his underlings that he could just chew out
any time he wanted -- he decided to have a sense of humor about
it, and chuckled ruefully.  "It's not as bad as you think," he
said.  "She's really not all that scary once you get to know
her."

      My grin turned wry.  "I hope you won't take offense if I
maintain a bit of healthy skepticism on that count."

      "Not at all, as long as you keep this discovery to
yourself."

      "I won't breathe a word."  Besides, I added silently.
Scarlet and Dr. Lambert?  I don't think anyone would believe me.

      "Good, good.  Well then, down to business I assume."  He
glanced over at Sharon, who was doing her best to look like she
wasn't eavesdropping.  "Shall we go into my office?"

      "Um..."  I thought of what had just taken place in that
office just minutes before.  "No need. This won't take long."

      "That's right," said Lambert.  "You said you wanted to get
some information on a SOLDIER applicant?"

      I nodded.  "I was hoping you could tell me something about
Cadet Strife."

      To my surprise, I saw a startled expression cross Sharon's
face at the mention of his name.  Hm, so she knew something.  But
I would have to save that for later.  Right then, I had to focus
on Dr. Lambert.  "I saw that you were personally in charge of
creating his psychological profile for his application, and I
couldn't help but notice that his overall psychological score was
one of the lowest I've ever seen."

      The blank look on Lambert's face told me that the name
wasn't ringing a bell.  "Sorry," he said.  "There are so many
kids who come through here... who are you talking about?"

      "Cadet Cloud Strife," I clarified.  I was sure the strange
first name would spark some recognition, but when it didn't, I
sighed, and said, "You know, the kid with all the spiky blond
hair."

      That did it.  Realization flared in Lambert's eyes, and his
lip curled slightly in distaste.  "Oh, *him.*"

      I raised an eyebrow, not really surprised by his reaction.
"That bad, huh?"

      Lambert shook his head.  "You have no idea.  That little
punk has absolutely no respect for authority."

      "Really."  I was very curious now.  "What did he do?"

      "Well, he was sullen, uncooperative and hostile from the
start.  He outright refused to answer many of my questions, and
when he did answer, he had a *very* belligerent attitude."
Lambert was the very picture of righteous indignation.  "Near the
end of the interview, he even became aggressive, and threatened
to do me bodily harm."

      I blinked.  "He threatened to attack you during the
interview?"

      Lambert nodded, his face flushing angrily at the memory.
"Damn brat.  For a moment there, I thought he was going to climb
right over my desk to get at me."

      "But he didn't."

      "No."  Lambert clenched his fists and lifted his chin.  "I
told him that his severe behavioral problems would guarantee that
he would never make it into SOLDIER."

      My eyes widened.  "You told him that?"

      "I most certainly did.  And let me tell you, *that* took the
wind out of his sails.  He glared at me with a look that could
kill, then stomped out of here without another word."

      "I see."  At least, I thought I did.  If I was reading
between the lines correctly, there was a hell of a lot that
Lambert wasn't telling me.  "Wow," I said, "that must have been
quite some experience.  I'm glad you weren't hurt."

      "Well," Lambert said, "even if he had come at me, a short,
skinny kid like that couldn't do much damage.  I probably could
have handled him without a problem."

      "Oh, no doubt," I replied, trying hard not to roll my eyes.
"I'm just glad it didn't come to that."

      I was in such fine brown-nosing form, I felt like gagging.
Shit like this made me really glad that I worked directly under
Sephiroth, so that I rarely had to deal with these corporate
Shinra assholes.  It was my firm opinion that Sephiroth's
leadership of the military was the Shinra Company's sole saving
grace.

      As for Lambert's boast, Strife was in top physical condition
from his constant and dedicated training for SOLDIER, and Lambert
was developing a bit of an obvious paunch around the middle.  I
had no doubt that, if Cadet Strife had really wanted to, he could
have easily smeared Lambert all over that plush little office of
his.

      I did my best to hide these rather traitorous thoughts under
a thoughtful look.  "Hey, that interview, you have it recorded on
video disk, don't you?"

      Lambert deflated slightly, and eyed me with sudden
suspicion.  "Of course.  It's standard procedure to record
SOLDIER applicant interviews."

      "I don't suppose I could have a look at it?"

      "Absolutely not," Lambert said, horrified.  "Those files are
highly classified!"

      Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face. *If they're so
classified,* I wanted to say, *then how come you're so willing to
blab about the interview in front of your secretary, with just my
casual inquiry?*  I suspected that he was doing it partly for her
benefit, which only confirmed my suspicion that she knew
something about Cadet Strife's interview.  Still, I held my
tongue, even though both he and I knew that, as a lieutenant
general, I could easily get clearance to all the files on SOLDIER
applicants, regardless of his protests.

      But I had no desire to stir up trouble with Lambert.  Sure,
I might be Sephiroth's 2nd in Command, but Lambert was tight with
President Shinra himself, and had the old man's sympathetic ear
at least twice a week by appointment.  I knew that if it came to
a choice between Lambert and me, Lambert would probably win by
default.

      Besides, if I suspected that Lambert was a vindictive son-
of-a-bitch before...

      "All right, that's fine," I said with a shrug.  "I was just
curious about it, that's all.  I'm not questioning your
professional judgement.  It's just that Cadet Strife seemed like
such a good SOLDIER candidate in every other aspect.  I just
wanted to make sure that the final psychological score in his
file wasn't a typo or something."

      Lambert snorted.  "Rest assured, it was most definitely not
a typo.  Cadet Strife will never be a SOLDIER."

      "Well then, that answers my question."  I smiled.  "Thanks
for your time, Dr. Lambert."

      "No problem, Lieutenant General," Lambert replied, his smile
just as contrived as my own.

      And then I turned and walked out the door before the last
shreds of my will crumbled, and I gave in to my strong impulse to
punch his face in.


~*~


      Sharon didn't look in the least bit surprised when I entered
the office again a half an hour later.

      "I thought you'd be back," she said, smiling.  "Though I
have the sinking suspicion that you didn't return just to
continue our conversation that was interrupted by Dr. Lambert and
Scarlet."

      "Sorry."  I smiled sheepishly, but I was relieved to see
that all trace of the flirtatious seduction from our previous
conversation had left her expression.  She was a smart girl, and
seemed to have figured out that I wasn't interested, yet was
self-assured enough to not let it bother her.  "I'm just here on
business again.  I saw Lambert enter a meeting upstairs, and I
needed to ask you some questions without him around."

      She nodded.  "I figured as much.  About Cadet Strife,
right?"

      "That's right.  From your reaction when I mentioned it to
Lambert, I'm guessing you were here for the whole thing."

      "I'm here for all of the SOLDIER interviews," she said, with
a knowing smile.  "It's one of the reasons I took this job.  I
certainly didn't take it because I like working for Dr. Lambert."

      I laughed.  "Ah, I see.  It all makes sense now."

      She laughed as well, but quickly grew serious.  "But you're
right," she said.  "I remember Cadet Strife's interview very
well.  It was about a week ago."

      I sat down again on one of the leather chairs.  "So what can
you tell me about him?"

      "How much do you want to know?" she asked.

      I shrugged.  "Whatever you can tell me that will give me a
clue as to why all my instincts are saying that Lambert didn't
deal Strife a fair hand."

      She seemed to relax at that.  "Well then, have I got an
earful for you."

      I gave her a surprised look.  "So, do you think Lambert had
it in for Strife?"

      She shook her head.  "Maybe not at first.  Strife was like
all the other applicants when he came in.  Really nervous about
the interview while he waited for his turn.  But one thing that I
noticed that was kind of odd...  The other guys who were waiting,
they talked and joked among themselves to alleviate some of the
tension, but Strife sat off by himself, and didn't really
interact with any of the others."

      "Anti-social?" I asked.

      "More like... just really shy, I think."  She gave me an
inquisitive look  "I don't know, is there a difference?"

      "You got me," I said with a shrug.  "I'm not a
psychiatrist."

      "Well," she said, biting her lower lip thoughtfully.  "All I
know is that, when I tried to talk to him... he seemed surprised.
Like he didn't expect me to talk to *him,* with all the other
guys in the room."

      I raised an eyebrow.  "Why *did* you talk to him, instead of
all the other guys in the room?"

      That brought an unashamed grin to her face.  "That's easy.
He was the cutest guy there, for one thing.  Those blue eyes, and
all that unruly blond hair... and the way he blushed when he
noticed that I was looking at him..."

      "Okay," I said, chuckling.  "So he was cute, and you talked
to him.  What next?"

      She looked contemplative for a moment.  "He was very...
quiet.  No, that's not the right word.  Soft-spoken."

      "Shy," I said.

      "I guess."  She cocked her head at me.  "Is it a bad thing
for SOLDIERS to be shy?"

      "If it was a bad thing," I said wryly, "then half the
SOLDIERS I know would have to resign.  There's a world of
difference between being shy around women, and being hesitant in
a battle situation."

      She looked at me pointedly.  "*You're* not shy around
women," she said.

      "Ah-heh..."  My hand slipped behind my head in abashment.
"Well, I've got a girlfriend," I said, knowing that while I was
avoiding her insinuation, I was also answering her unspoken
question.

      "Ah, I knew it," she said, sighing dramatically.  "It
figures.  All the good men are taken."

      I was sort of pleased at the back-handed compliment, but I
still tried valiantly to look offended on behalf of my gender.
"Not *all,*" I said.  "Besides, it seems to me that you liked
Strife well enough."

      "True," she said, "but that's a moot point now, isn't it?"
Her eyes were suddenly sad.  "I mean, Dr. Lambert's made sure
that Strife isn't going to get into SOLDIER... and Strife seemed
so devastated when he walked out of that office.  The look on his
face... like all the hope he'd ever had was crushed out of him."
She sighed.  "I figured he'd be packed and halfway back home by
now.  At least... I know I would be, if I were him."

      Well, *that* was interesting.  So it was true -- Strife
really knew, a whole week ago, that he would never make it in
SOLDIER.

      "Actually," I said, "he hasn't left.  At least, not yet,
anyway.  He stuck around long enough to finish the rest of the
SOLDIER testing.  I saw him just this afternoon, in the final
drill test."

      Sharon's eyes widened.  "But... why?  Why go through the
rest of the testing process if he knew he wasn't going to make it
anyway?"

      "That's what I'm trying to figure out myself," I said.  "So
what exactly happened in his interview?  Did you hear anything?"

      She scowled.  "I heard plenty.  For the first fifteen
minutes, everything was really quiet, but then Dr. Lambert
started yelling at Strife, saying that he had a bad attitude, and
that he needed to show more respect to his superiors.  He kept
going on and on like that for about ten minutes, until finally I
heard Strife shout back."

      I leaned forward.  "What did he say?"

      Sharon smiled ruefully.  "Oh, pretty much everything I've
ever wanted to say to the old windbag, but was just too afraid
to.  That he was a no-talent hypocrite, a stain on the occupation
of psychiatry... well, maybe not those exact words -- those are
*my* words -- but the meaning was essentially the same.
Basically, Strife called Dr. Lambert an idiot, saying that he
didn't know what he was talking about, and Dr. Lambert got so mad
that he practically screamed at the top of his lungs that Strife
would never be a SOLDIER as long as he had anything to say about
it.  Then everything was quiet for a while... and then Strife
came out of the office looking like the world had just ended."
Sharon blew out her breath between pursed lips.  "And that was
it.  Well, except that Dr. Lambert canceled all of the interviews
for the rest of the day, and sent everybody home."

      I looked at her, weighing the implication of her words for a
long moment.

      "I see," I said at last, and sighed.  "So in other words,
Cadet Strife is a horribly disturbed individual, unworthy of the
SOLDIER program, simply because he's the only one who has the
guts to call Dr. Lambert an asshole to his face.  Um... pardon my
language."

      She waved it off.  "No, I think that sums it up perfectly.
And that *is* the exact word he used, come to think of it."

      "Right."  I rubbed a hand over my face.  "Okay.  Anything
else you can think of that might help?"

      "Not off the top of my head."  She looked at me earnestly.
"So... do you think there's any way to overturn Dr. Lambert's
score?"

      "I don't know," I said, as I got to my feet.  It was time to
leave, before the asshole himself returned from his meeting.
"But if I can do something, I will.  I'm not going to let Shinra
trample all over some guy just because he happens to have a mind
of his own."

      "Well, good luck."  Sharon gave me a weary half smile.

      "Thanks," I said.  "I have the feeling I'll need it."


~*~


      By the time I made it down to the cadet floor, the final
scores for the SOLDIER program had been posted.  Dozens of boys
swarmed around the glowing bulletin board, each trying to catch a
glimpse of their name emblazoned in neon light.  There were
cheers and back-slaps all around.

      A few of the boys I had helped train caught sight of me and,
before I knew it, I had been dragged into the midst of the mob.
Some of the guys thumped on my back with their fists and chanted
my name, while others took up the ready battle cry of "Par-TY!
Par-TY!" as they tromped purposefully down the halls in search of
the nearest keg to celebrate their successful entrance into
SOLDIER.

      Their enthusiasm was contagious.  I couldn't help but
remember a few years back when I was first accepted into the
SOLDIER program.  It was definitely one of the highlights of my
life.  Nothing quite like the heady rush of recognition, after a
seeming lifetime of hard work to reach that moment of payoff.  I
knew, as I watched the boys around me, that I could very easily
let myself get caught up into the festivities as I had so many
times before, vicariously reliving that glorious moment through
the new guys.  But I couldn't.  Not at the moment, anyway.

      Cadet Strife was conspicuously absent from the crowd.

      But then, so was his name from the bulletin board.

      I'm not quite sure how I did it, but I somehow managed to
extricate myself from the flood of boys clogging the main cadet
foyer, and made my way to the barracks hall.  I passed several
open doors that revealed long, narrow rooms, with rows of ten
beds lined up on either side of the room, with small steel-gray
lockers in between each bed.

      Ah, memories.  Being a cadet meant that you had virtually no
privacy whatsoever.  One of the best things about being accepted
into SOLDIER meant that the number of my roommates was narrowed
down from nineteen to one.  And when I became a SOLDIER 1st
Class, I got a room all to myself.

      Which is exactly what I was thinking about when I found
Cadet Strife, in Barrack G6.

      I actually heard him before I saw him.  The door to G6 was
closed, and as I reached for the doorknob, the sound of a broken,
muffled curse reached my ears.  This was immediately followed by
a loud, long smashing noise that I knew could only mean that
someone's locker was no longer in one piece.

      I paused.  My hand was still on the doorknob as more cursing
followed within, only to trail off into heavy silence.

      And for the first time, as I stood there on the other side
of the door eavesdropping on  Cadet Strife's frustration and
despair... I wondered what the hell I was doing.

      Here I was, traipsing in like some big brother to the
rescue.  But rescue from what?  This kid didn't know me.  What
could I possibly say to him?

      Sorry you didn't make the cut, kid.  Thems the breaks, huh?
But I'm here to give you a cheerful pep talk about "living life
to the fullest" and "rolling with the punches" that will not only
*not* make you feel any better, but will probably make you want
to kick my ass just to get me to shut up.

      With that thought, reality settled in on me, hard.  I didn't
know this kid.  I didn't know anything about him, other than what
I had deduced from his file scores, and watching him perform the
final drill.  Oh, and that Lambert hated him.  Other than that,
what did I know?  Sure, he had told Lambert where to stick it,
and even though that was something I had only daydreamed of
doing, it didn't necessarily mean the kid was stable.  In fact,
if anything, it indicated a distinct lack of self-preservation
instinct.  I suddenly wished that I had overruled Lambert, and
had watched the recorded interview in spite of his protests, so
that I could know more about what I was dealing with.

      And, come to think of it, why did I want to even bother
dealing with this anyway?  It wasn't like Strife was the first
kid ever to be rejected from the SOLDIER program.  There were
lots of kids who had been turned away because they couldn't cut
it physically, and I'm sure they felt just as devastated.  Where
did I get off, sticking my nose into this kid's business, when
all he probably wanted at this moment was to haul out of here
with a bit of dignity?

      At that moment, the doorknob was jerked out of my grasp as
the door swung inward, and I suddenly found myself looking down
into Cadet Strife's angry face.  "What the hell do you wa..?"  He
trailed off abruptly as he recognized me.  Surprise and confusion
warred with the anger already in his expression, and he
immediately stepped back, coming instinctively to attention.
"Sir," he said, "sorry, sir, I... I didn't know it was you."

      Stunned, I could only blink.  "How did you even know I was
here?"

      "I saw your shadow under the door, sir," he said, still
standing at attention.  "I thought you were..."  He trailed off
again, and I could see a stubborn pride flare in his eyes.  One
eye was still bruised and swollen from when I first saw him this
afternoon.  "...someone else," he finished flatly.

      "Who?" I asked.  "The same person who gave you the black
eye?"

      That earned me a sullen, resentful glare.  "Are you asking
as my superior officer, sir?  Or as the local 'big brother' who
has come to offer his condolences for me not making it into
SOLDIER?"

      "Um..."  I stared.  He had me there.  I wasn't really sure
myself.

      And he knew it.  "Then, with all due respect, sir," he said,
falling at ease and walking over to his bed, "it's none of your
damn business."

       "Okay," I said agreeably, though I was mentally kicking
myself.  He was right, it was none of my business.  But for some
reason -- curiosity or my masochistic streak, I'm not sure which
-- I followed him into the room anyway.  At which point I noticed
that his bed was the very nearest to the door.

      Understanding hit me like a load of bricks.  That alone was
a sure sign that he was at the very bottom of the cadet pecking
order.  Another blatant clue was that his bedding had been
stripped, and was lying in a wad of tight knots at the foot of
his bed.

      I also saw the reason for his noisy destruction of his metal
locker.  The door had been welded shut, and he'd had to bust it
open to get at his personal belongings.  An open duffle bag lay
on his bare bed, and as I watched, he began shoving his clothes
from the ruined locker and into the bag.

      "So you're leaving, then," I said.

      He snorted.  "Brilliant observation.  I can see how you made
it to SOLDIER 1st Class."

      I ignored the barb.  I would undoubtedly be bitter too, in
his situation.  "Where are you going?"

      He stopped packing momentarily, and looked at me.  "What's
it to you?"

      "Just curious," I said honestly.  "Are you going back home?"

      The pain that flashed through his gaze at the mention of
home made me wish I hadn't asked.  But the pain was quickly
replaced by the flat, heatless anger.  "I can't go back home," he
said, in a tone that said he wouldn't say anything further on the
subject.  All right then.

      "So where?" I pressed.

      He slammed a wad of clothes -- also tied in knots, I noticed
with a wince -- into the duffle bag.  "Does it matter?"  Without
waiting for an answer, he turned on me, his eyes sparking with
misery beneath his fury.  "Look," he snapped, "why are you
bugging me, anyway?  Shouldn't you be off celebrating with the
guys who made it?  Or did you stop by just to rub it in?"

      This was going nowhere.  "Come on, gimme a break," I said,
holding out my hands in a pleading gesture.  "So you don't want a
pity party, I understand that.  And I'm not going to play big
brother, either."

      That took him aback.  He eyed me warily.  "Then why are you
here?"

      I shrugged and grinned.  "Actually... I haven't figured that
out yet."

      Again, the anger crept back into his gaze.  "If you're here
because they set you up to play some sort of prank..."

      "I'm not," I protested.  He looked skeptical, and I sighed.
"Look, okay, you want to know the truth?"

      "Should I even care?"

      Another good point.  His anger was overwhelming his
curiosity.  And it was increasingly obvious that there was no way
my natural charm was going to help me out on this one.  I could
tell, when he looked at me, that as a SOLDIER 1st Class I
represented everything he'd worked for... and everything he would
never have.  Why *should* he care, especially if he was planning
on leaving all this behind?  As the living, breathing symbol of
the cause of his misery, even if I knew what to say, there was
probably nothing I could do to help.

      "I just wanted to ask you a question," I said, feeling
suddenly weary.  "And you don't have to answer if you don't want
to.  Just let me ask the question, you can answer or not, and
then I'll get out of your way, okay?"

      A flicker of curiosity lit his eyes, but he didn't pause in
packing.  "Fine.  Ask."  *And then leave.*   The unspoken
sentiment was so plain in his body language, he didn't have to
say it out loud.

      I took a deep breath.  "After your interview with Dr.
Lambert..."  And I trailed off as he tensed so suddenly at the
mention of the psychiatrist's name, that for a brief moment I
thought he was going to interrupt, or yell, or smash something.
But he didn't say anything.  He just stood there, looking down at
his bed with his fists clenched at his sides, a wad of knotted
clothing hanging from one hand.

      "What about it?" he asked finally, and his voice was so
quiet, I almost didn't hear him.

      "Well..."  My usual wit had completely failed me at that
point.  "You stayed.  You finished the SOLDIER testing, even
knowing..."  I shrugged, feeling the bafflement plain on my face.
"Why?"

      He looked at me for a moment, expressionlessly.  "You should
know why," he said.

      "If I did, I wouldn't be asking."

      His face twisted in an expression of frustration and grief
and anger.  "Because," he said, "Dr. Lambert is a complete moron,
and it shouldn't matter what he thinks of me!  I thought it
*wouldn't* matter!  I thought that if I stayed, if I finished the
testing and did my best, that the opinion of one idiot wouldn't
keep me from getting into SOLDIER.  But I guess that's not the
way it works, huh?"

      I shook my head, but not because I was disagreeing with him.
The picture was slowly coming into focus, and it wasn't pretty.
Still, there was a missing piece that I had to have.  What had
Strife done to get Lambert so angry in the first place?

      "He said that you didn't respect his authority," I said.

      "I respected his authority," Strife snapped.  "Right up
until the moment that he tried to get me to..."  He stopped
abruptly, and his face turned red with anger and humiliation.

      I blinked.  "To what?" I asked.

      But Strife was silent, looking down at the floor, so tense
that he was almost trembling.

      A sudden horrible suspicion formed in my gut.  "Until he
tried to get you to do what?" I asked again.

      He looked up and glared, but I saw a hint of telling fear
glimmering in his eyes as he turned away and began packing again.
"None of your damn business," he said.  "I answered your
question.  Now leave me the hell alone."

       I blinked as realization hit.

      Holy shit.  First Scarlet, and now this.  A hell of a lot
more about Lambert than I ever wanted to know.

      The general rule at Shinra was that what you did on your own
time was nobody's business, and we all tried to keep that rule.
A sort of "live and let live" philosophy.  But in my opinion,
this crossed the boundary.  This took place during an official
SOLDIER interview, and was tantamount to blackmail.

      I would have gone straight to President Shinra with this, if
I thought it would do any good.  But I suspected that he probably
already knew, since he and Lambert were such good buddies.
Persistent rumor had it that the Pres himself had several
extracurricular activities along similar lines, unbeknownst to
his wife and son.  Some of my friends had said that they'd even
seen the Pres frequenting the rather kinky slum establishment of
the Honey Bee Inn, in the Sector 5 Wall Market...

      I decided to stop thinking about that, before my imagination
took me places that I did *not* want to go.  Still...

      "Look," I said.  "This is serious.  If Lambert did anything-
-"

      "He didn't."  Strife turned on me furiously.  "Do you really
think I'd let him?"

      In spite of the sick feeling in my stomach, I couldn't help
but turn up one corner of my mouth in a wry half smile.  "No, I
think you'd kick his ass first."

      My answer surprised him, to say the least.  He stared at me
for a moment.  "Damn straight," he said at last.  And then he
went back to packing.

      I didn't know what to say then.  What had been done to
Strife was so unbelievably cruel and unfair, I had a hard time
grasping it.

      And yet, I couldn't help but admire his strength.  The fact
that he'd hung on till the end, in spite of Lambert.  In spite of
somehow ending up at the bottom of the ruthless cadet pecking
order.

      Okay, so maybe my help wasn't wanted, and with good reason.
But I couldn't just let it go.  There had to be *something* I
could do to fix this miscarriage of justice.  I had to at least
give him the option to do something about it, rather than just
leave him like this.

      "Hey," I said.  "If you don't have any place to go, why
don't you stay here?"

      He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind.  "What?"

      "Not *here*," I said, gesturing at the cadet barracks.  "I
mean..."  I paused.  The plan was forming in my mind even as I
spoke.  "Look.  You want to be a SOLDIER, right?"

      He didn't answer, but then he didn't have to.  The desire
was there, still lurking in his eyes, in spite of everything he'd
been through.  I saw it.  Recognized it.

      So I continued.  "Well, I was just thinking," I said.  "What
Lambert did was illegal on so many levels, it's not funny.
Still, it won't be easy going up against him, because he's got
lots of friends in high places."  I shrugged.  "But then, so do
I.  So even though it might take wading through a ton of red
tape, and a bit of slick maneuvering, it still might be
possible."

      Cadet Strife stared at me, thunderstruck.  I could see that
his mind was whirling, trying to comprehend what I had just said.
"Wh... what?" he whispered.

      "The thing is," I continued, "it won't happen instantly.  If
there's one thing I've learned from dealing with these
bureaucratic Shinra shitheads, it's that they know how to turn a
simple five minute conversation into a six month legal process
when it's something comes up that doesn't immediately interest
them, or put money in their pockets."  I gave him a pointed look.
"So I guess the bottom line is, if you still want a shot at
becoming a SOLDIER, that means you'd have to stick around for a
bit.  At least as a private in the enlisted army for a while,
while I try and get Lambert's score overturned."

      Strife's eyes were wide, and for a moment, I thought I saw a
flicker of hope in his expression.  "Why... why would you do that
for me?"

      I chuckled.  "Well, for one thing, nobody, and I mean
nobody, has ever put Lambert in his place before."

      But maybe that was the wrong thing to say, I realized, as
suspicion once again crept into his countenance.  Fear,
experience, or both, made him refuse to believe in the hope I was
offering to him, and he started to slowly shake his head.

      "No... this is some sort of sick joke, isn't it," he said.
"The guys put you up to this, didn't they."  And then, he looked
horror-struck with a terrible realization, and his fists
clenched.  "Or Lambert.  Is it Lambert?  Did he put you up to
this to get back at me?"

      "Are you crazy?" I yelled.  "Me work for Lambert, that
pasty-faced son-of-a-bitch?"  My vehement denial took him by
surprise, and he stepped back, his leg bumping into his mutilated
locker.  At that, I also felt a sharp stab of aggravation and
anger towards the pinheads who thought that tormenting the quiet
guy was the preferred means of entertainment in cadet school.
"Look, Strife," I said seriously, trying to reign in some of my
frustration.  "I wouldn't do a favor for Lambert if my life
depended on it, and as for the 'guys,' I don't even know who
you're talking about.  As a matter of fact, if I ever find out
who roped your clothes and welded your locker shut, I'm going to
give them latrine duty for six weeks.  This stupid pecking order
may be the way Shinra runs things in management, but that's not
the way SOLDIERS do things, and it sure as hell isn't the way
Sephiroth runs his army."

      Strife blinked at me, stunned.  And for the first time I
could see that he knew I meant business.  I leaned forward and
looked him in the eye.  "You've got more guts and determination
than half of my comrades," I said.  "If anyone deserves to be in
SOLDIER, it's you, kid."

      More stunned silence.  The look on his face made me wonder
if anyone had ever done or said anything nice to him in his life.
He didn't seem to know how to cope with it.

      "You're serious," he finally said.  "Are... are you
serious?"

      I grinned.  "Yeah.  So whaddya say?  I can't guarantee that
it's a sure thing, but I will promise that I'll do my damndest to
get Lambert's score overturned.  Are you willing to give it a
shot?"

      He looked down at the duffle bag lying on the stripped bed.
After a long moment, he said, "As a private... where would I have
to stay?"

      I could hear the questions he was too proud to voice.  *If I
stay, do I have to put up with this again?  As a private, would I
have to endure the same persecution that I did here, on the off
chance that you can overturn Lambert's score?*

      But I could also see that it didn't matter how I answered.
I could see that, even if I said that there was a good chance he
would get beat up every week for the next six months, he was
willing to endure it.  He would suffer anything to prove himself.
Anything to reach the coveted position of a SOLDIER under
Sephiroth's command, even if the hope of fulfilling that dream
was slim; the chance one in a million.

      Seeing that in his face is what finally clinched it for me,
I think.  I officially liked the kid.

      "Privates sleep in the barracks a couple of floors up.  It's
not much different from this," I admitted.

      But Strife just shook his head.  "That's okay."  He looked
up at me.  "Sir... it's not that I don't appreciate all this,
but... do you mind if I take some time to think about it?"

      I could see that he still didn't trust me.  Not that I
blamed him, after everything that he'd gone through.  "I don't
mind at all," I said.  "I realize it's a lot to consider.  Take
all the time you want.  But if you decide to go with my plan,
just let me know.  I can help you get enlisted in the army as a
private, and settled in properly.  Oh, and if you need to find
me, talk to the receptionist on the 17th floor, she's the one who
keeps track of where I am."

      "Thanks..."

      And with that, there was nothing really more to say.  I was
about to leave Cadet Strife alone with his thoughts, when I
paused and turned back to him.  "Okay, you know when I said that
I only had one question?  I lied.  I've got one more question for
you."

      He eyed me with suspicion, but without surprise, as if
waiting for me to give him the expected last-minute catch to my
offer.  "What?"

      I couldn't help the grin that crept into my expression.  "Is
it true that you called Dr. Lambert an asshole to his face?"

      And for the first time, Cloud Strife's mouth quirked with
the ghost of a smile.

      "Yes, sir," he said.

      I laughed loudly, and clapped him on the back.  "Man,
Strife, you are my *hero*," I said, as I turned to walk out the
door.

      Strife just watched me leave, a distinctly perplexed look on
his face.


~*~


      Hojo's lab is dark when I open my eyes, the only light in
the room coming from the eery green glow of the Mako that fills
my cylindrical prison.  The sight almost startles me.  The
cobblestone walls, the shelves upon shelves of books, the various
specimen containers lining the walls, the experimentation table
in the center of the room...

      For a moment, I forgot where I was.  Where I've been.  I
know I've been lost in memory.  These days, the line between my
memories and my present seems to be increasingly blurry.  It's
getting hard to tell when I'm awake and when I'm not.

      It was a memory of Cloud.  The first time I ever met him,
when he was just a 15 year old kid, with dreams of becoming a
SOLDIER.

      I never should have offered to help him.  Where did it get
him?  Not into SOLDIER, but instead, locked away for five years
as a lab specimen.  The prisoner of Hojo's crazy experiments and
hidden agenda.

      Only it's not so hidden now.  I figured some of it out,
didn't I.

      That's right.  I remember... right before Hojo drugged me
for the experiment... the experiment that I can't remember.  I
told him that I knew he had only been using Jenova in his
experiments on Cloud, but not on me.  And he didn't like that at
all.  Heh.

      Like I usually do when I... wake up... or stop remembering,
I'm never sure which... I look over to see how Cloud is doing.

      To my relief, he seems to be sleeping.  At least, his eyes
are closed now, instead of open and empty, glowing brilliant,
unearthly Mako blue.

      But... I'm surprised how much he has healed from Hojo's
torture session, which was only... a day ago?  Two days ago?
It's useless, trying to measure time in here.  The only way to
keep track of such things is to pay attention to what Hojo and
the others say about it to each other.

      Still, Cloud's bruises are gone.  All signs of broken bones,
lacerations, gone.

      Hell, even the blood that matted his spiky blond hair has
disappeared.  Which makes me wonder if the Jenova in him managed
to suck it back into his body somehow...

      "Cloud," I say.  My muffled voice still reverberates in the
silent basement lab.  I need to make sure he's okay.  And I've
been alone with my own thoughts too long.  I desperately need
someone to talk to.  "Cloud... wake up."

      No response.

      "Come on, Cloud.  Wake up.  It's me, Zack."

      Still nothing.  Cloud is a light sleeper.  Maybe he's
drugged.  But Hojo has never left us drugged in between
experiments...

      "Wake up, Cloud."

      Nothing.

      "Dammit, wake up," I say, and hear the strains of panic in
my own voice.  "Come on, Cloud, this isn't funny.  Open your
eyes!"  I reach out and pound my fist on the inner wall of my
cylinder.  "Wake up, dammit!"

      And his eyes slowly open.  My surge of relief is short-
lived, however, as I see the same, vacant, glowing stare as
before.

      "Cloud..."

      "Zack..." he whispers hoarsely.

      He can hear me.  I lean forward anxiously, and press both
hands against my container.  "Cloud, are you okay?"  A stupid
question, I know.  "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

      "I... can't move."

      I blink in confusion.  He looks completely healed to me...
"Are you injured?  Do you hurt somewhere?"

      "No..."

      A sudden terrible thought strikes me.  "Can you feel your
legs or feet?"  If Hojo somehow paralyzed him in this last
experiment...

      "I can... feel them," Cloud says.  His voice is so soft, so
muffled, I can barely hear him.  It's as if forming each word is
a great effort.  "I just... can't move them."

      It's only then that I realize that Cloud hasn't even moved
his head to look at me.  He's still staring straight ahead with
that disturbing blank expression.

      "Can... can you look at me, Cloud?  Can you move your head?"

      "No..."  Anguish and fear fill that one-word whisper.

      Shit.  "Don't give up, Cloud."  I'm trying to sound so
encouraging, but I can't mask the worry in my own voice.  "Try.
Please, try."

      "I'm... trying..." he says.  "But the voices..."

      "Ignore the voices, Cloud."  It's her.  Jenova.  She's doing
this to him.  "Don't listen!  Try to focus on moving.  Just turn
your head towards me, and try to look at me, okay?"

      Cloud's lips are the only part of him that's moving.  And I
can't help but wonder if its because she's letting him speak.
Speak, but nothing else.  His weak voice threads its way to me,
and the words he struggles to form chill me to the bone.

      "I... feel like I'm being sucked into a void," he whispers.
"Like I'm... being pushed back into a corner... seeing out my own
eyes... hearing... feeling..."  Tears start to leak out of the
corners of his glowing, unblinking eyes.  "But everything seems
so far away... and I can't move...  Zack, I can't move..."

      I press my forehead against the glass, despair eating its
way through my heart.  "Try and fight it, Cloud.  Promise me you
won't give up.  No matter what, okay?"

      "...  Okay..."

      "You promise?"

      "... I... promise..."

      "Good."  I close my eyes.  "And in the meantime, I'll figure
out a way to get us out of here.  And then I'll find someone who
can help you.  I promise.  I'll find a way to undo what Hojo's
done to you."

      *It won't be easy going up against him, because he's got
lots of friends in high places.  So even though it might take
wading through a ton of red tape, and a bit of slick maneuvering,
it still might be possible...*

      That's right.  Just a bit of slick maneuvering is all.

      I hear 15-year-old Cloud's voice in the back of my mind.

      *Why... why would you do that for me?*

      The glass is cool against my forehead.  "Because we're
friends."

      *You're serious.*  The boy blinks at me uncertainly. *Are...
are you serious?*

      "Of course I'm serious.  Friends forever."

      "...forever..." Cloud whispers.  Tears slowly track their
way from his staring eyes, down his pale skin, glittering green
in the Mako mist.  '...friends...."

      That's right, Cloud.  And I will keep my promise.  I will
get you out of here, and help you, no matter what.  I will keep
my promise.

      Even if it kills me.


~*~

To be continued.

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