CHAPTER VII

RECOLLECTIONS

It was late. Aeris stared up that the ceiling above her head. She should be sleeping, but for some reason it wouldn't come. It happened to her sometimes. She got in these moods, started to think about things that were better left forgotten. But she never could forget them. Tseng always brought them back.

No, she couldn't really blame him. He was part of it, yes, but not all there was to it. She suspected that even if she had never met Tseng, she would still be here, staring up at the ceiling above her in the dark, thinking back to her captivity.

It was all she had ever known. Living in a locked room. Being told what to do, where to go. Her mother had told her she had only been weeks old when they had been taken. Ifalna had also told her that it wasn't normal, that ordinary people did not live like this. That they could go where they wished and do as they pleased. That they were free.

But she had no understanding of what the term meant.

All she had known, was that she was afraid. She had always been afraid. Afraid when she was separated from her mother. Afraid when she was locked up all alone in her dark room. And especially afraid when they came to take her out of her room.

No, not they. When Hojo came to take her.

She would never forgot his face. Those dark, almost black eyes as they squinted at her in his lab. Those pale white hands that held the needles they injected into her. The total lack of interest in her screams of pain.

She had been treated like an animal. Even so the toll had been worse on her mother. Ifalna had known freedom, had known what she had lost. She had also had a daughter to protect.

She had done the best she could, even thought there wasn't much she could do, under the circumstances. In the infrequent times mother and daughter had had together, Ifalna had tried to make her daughter comfortable, had tried to tell her that things were not always like this, had tried to show her that pain and suffering were not all there was in the world.

Aeris had understood, even though she had been so young. Ifalna had told her that they had to be strong, that if they were, someday things would change, things would get better. It was just a matter of time.

So she had tried. They both had. Somehow, even after all those years of experimentation, they had both managed to retain their sanity. But the years took their toll on Ifalna. She was the one who most of the experiments were performed on. Aeris had been too young at the time to notice, but as the years passed Ifalna had become weaker and weaker. Eventually her mother had realized if they didn't make an escape attempt soon, she would be too weak to even try.

Aeris had only been six at the time. She didn't remember much about it. The worried look on her mom's face, even more so than usual. The hurried whispers between her and the sympathetic guard they had convinced to free them. The stealthy race down darkened passages, her mothers arms, trembling, wrapped tightly about her. Ifalna's hissed inrush of breath when they came around a turn and saw someone standing in the passageway in front of them.

For some reason she remembered that quite clearly. It was a young boy, although he has seemed old enough to Aeris' six year old eyes. She had seen lots of people in Hojo's labs, coming and going, but all of them were adults. All except for him. She had seen him before. He stood out not only because of his youth, but because of his bright green eyes, eyes that almost seemed to glow, and long silver hair. She had never seen anyone quite like that. He was a common sight in the lab, in fact. He was always with Hojo, and though the scientist seemed to ignore just about everyone else, he seemed to take great interest in the boy, always taking the time to explain what he was doing, as if the boy were some sort of student of his. The boy had even observed sometimes when Hojo had experimented on her. He had looked on impassively whenever this had happened, but sometimes she had seem him turn away when Hojo had injected her with the needles. She had tried to speak to him a few times, but he had never answered. Still, he was around so often she couldn't help but know his name.

"Hello Sephiroth"

She remembered saying that. Being only six at the time, she hadn't realized the consequences of their coming upon him in the middle of their escape. They hadn't gotten very far at the time. They still had a long way to go. If he had raised the alarm, they wouldn't have stood a chance.

For a long time they had just stood there, looking at one another. Then, without a word, the boy stepped aside.

Aeris heard her mother give out an audible sigh of relief. They rushed past him. Aeris lifted her head, over her mothers shoulder to look back at him. He just stood there looking at them with those bright eyes. Even now she wasn't sure what she had seen in those eyes. Uncertainty? Sympathy? She didn't think it was quite either of those. It had almost been a pleading look, almost as if he wanted them to take him with them.

Her mother was rushing on, heedless. She hadn't stopped to look at his face. A moment later they turned a corner and were gone. He never said a word. Never followed them.

Never raised the alarm.

She wondered how much things might have changed if they had asked the boy to join them.

They had escaped that night. But the toll had been too much for her mother. They had only gotten as far as the train station before...

As long as you're safe, it doesn't matter. Don't mourn for me. I'm free now, and happy.

Aeris wiped a tear from her eye, smiling at the voice inside her head. It was a comfort to know even if Ifalna could not be here in person, she was still watching out for her.

Elmyra had found her there, at the train station, and had taken her in, and finally, she really was free to lead a normal life, even though at the time, she had no concept of what a normal life was. Considering all that she had been through, it was a wonder she could adjust to a normal life without years of therapy.

But she hadn't, had she? Not really. Tseng had found her only one short year after her escape. He had explained to her that she was an Ancient, a Cetra. The last of her race. Which just seemed to prove what she had suspected all along.

She would never lead a normal life.

She sighed. She had often wondered where this would all lead. The people she knew at school, they often talked about boys. In fact, it was rare they weren't talking about boys. Most of them had given at least some thought to getting married, to having kids. But when she looked ahead for herself, she couldn't see that. She couldn't see herself settling down, living happily ever after. She knew Zack liked her, but she also knew he liked just about every girl he met. He didn't really seem like the settling down type.

But it wasn't even Zack. She couldn't see herself settling down with anyone. She wanted to be like the others, she wanted to fit in, but she felt deep down inside that she couldn't, that she was just too different.

A retort from outside startled her, making her sit up in bed.

It wasn't that close. It wasn't on her street. It sounded like it had come from the next block over. It was a sound she had heard before, and there was no mistaking it.

The sound of a gunshot.

She got up out of bed and walked over to the window, her nightgown rustling about her ankles. Under the plate, there was no moon to light the darkness. The only form of illumination were the streetlights or lights from nearby buildings. They cast a baleful glow on the empty streets outside.

It wasn't unusual to hear gunshots in the dark, here in the sector five slums. It wasn't the first time it had happened, nor, she was sure, would it be the last. She stared out the window, wondering what was going on. She heard that gangs roamed the streets at night, often fighting with one another, as well as thieves. It wasn't only because of the Turks that Elmyra insisted she be home by sunset every day. The slums were a dangerous place, especially at night.

She was about to turn away when a movement caught her attention. Down the street she saw figures suddenly burst forth into the light. There were four of them, dressed in dark clothing, all running down the street as fast as they could go.

They passed right beneath her window. Close enough for her to see that they were only kids, not much older than her. Three boys and a girl. One of them held something that might have been a gun, but she couldn't be sure. None of them looked up at her.

The door suddenly opened behind her, nearly making her jump. She turned and saw Elmyra framed in the doorway.

"Aeris, get away from the window!" she admonished.

Instinctively Aeris stepped back.

"I only wanted to know what was going on," she said.

"Nothing that has anything to do with us," Elmyra replied quickly. "I've told you before anyone out there this time of night is up to no good. You shouldn't let them see you. Who knows what they'd do?"

"They didn't have any interest in me," Aeris replied, trying to reassure her.

"That might change if they see you," Elmyra replied, obviously not reassured at all. "They might think you saw something that you shouldn't have. Really Aeris, it's foolish to draw attention to yourself. You should have known better."

Aeris sighed. She hadn't felt in any personal danger. But she knew telling Elmyra that wasn't going to do any good.

"Yes mother," she acquiesced.

She walked over to her bed and sat down on it. Elmyra smiled at her.

"All right, I just wanted to see if you were okay. Sweet dreams dear," she said, then closed the door.

Aeris glanced one more time over at the window, but she couldn't see anything from here. She wondered if they had had anything to do with the shot she had heard. Even if they didn't, what were they doing out there in the middle of the night, running as if for their lives?

She let herself slowly sink back down on her bed, until she was staring at the ceiling one more time, and resumed her brooding.


Unknown to Aeris, the man who had once watched her and Ifalna escape from the Shinra building all those years ago was looking out into the darkness from that very structure. Although he was only a few miles away from her, almost everything else about them was worlds apart.

She lived in a run down section of Midgar. Though they weren't poor, it was difficult for Elmyra, as a single mom, to make ends meet.

It was different for Sephiroth. He sat in a chair in a darkened room high up in the Shinra tower. He had gil, he had power, he had everything a man could want.

So why did he feel so unsatisfied?

Because all the money and all the power didn't answer the question he most needed answered.

Who am I?

How many times had he done this? How many times had he sat and thought back, as far back as he could remember, searching for some clue, some tidbit of information that he might have cast aside, some long ago forgotten shred of knowledge that he might dredge up, that might add to the meager knowledge he already had. That might tell him who he was, and where he came from.

His earliest memories were of the mansion in Nibelheim, but whether he had been born there or moved there in some long forgotten time he did not know. He didn't remember much. Like all childhood memories, there were only bits and pieces. A moment here or there, with no real rhyme or reason. He remembered a tall man with thin aquiline features. Professor Gast. One of his oldest memories was sitting on a sofa while the Professor read him a story. He couldn't remember exactly what the story was about. It had involved some bears, and a small girl. Another time he remembered sitting on the stairs in the main hall. He had been crying, but he couldn't remember why. Professor Gast had found him and had sat down next to him. He had no idea what happened, or what the Professor might have said. He couldn't remember any of that, just looking up and seeing the Professor sit down, and the kindly look on his face. He really had no idea why those particular memories had stuck in his head. It was strange how one's memory could pick out seemingly innocuous things to retain, whereas things that may have seemed of great importance at the time quickly faded into obscurity.

He had had the run of the Shinra mansion, but, in all the time he spent there, he had never once been allowed to go outside. He knew this was not normal, for he often saw children playing in the streets in front of the mansion through the window. He had asked about this more than once, but every time he did Professor Gast had just smiled at him and said 'soon'.

He knew the Professor was a scientist. The whole mansion was being used as some sort of giant research center. He remembered white cabinets and white coats, beakers and Bunsen burners and jars of strange chemicals filling the rooms. He hadn't questioned it. The Professor was always tinkering, always had his head in one project or another, but even though he seemed very busy, he had always taken time to explain patiently what he was doing whenever Sephiroth had asked. But even so the Professor had never told him anything about his parents or his past, or, for that matter, what was going on in the basement.

The basement was the only part of the mansion Sephiroth was not allowed. It seemed that there was some really important project going on down there, something top secret. Sephiroth had been tempted to try to sneak down there many times to try to find out just what was going on, but he had never had the opportunity. The way had always been guarded by the Turks.

In spite of the unanswered questions and the peculiarities of his childhood, it hadn't really been all that bad.

Dr. Hojo had been Professor Gast's assistant. The two men had worked together in the mansion for as long as Sephiroth could remember. Yet the two could not have been more different. Professor Gast had always greeted Sephiroth cheerfully and expressed interest in him, whereas Hojo completely ignored him. Sephiroth didn't know who his father or mother were. Professor Gast had told him to be patient, that things would be made clear to him in time. Sephiroth had sensed the man felt awkward talking about it for some reason, but he had never said anything more. Still, Sephiroth had started to think of Professor Gast as the closest thing to a father he would ever have.

And then one day, everything changed.

Professor Gast had been away. Sephiroth wasn't sure exactly why, but it happened on occasion. Without warning Dr. Hojo had gathered them all together and announced that they were heading to Midgar.

No explanation of the move had ever been given to him. He had lived his whole life in the mansion. He hadn't wanted to go. He had kept asking why, kept asking where Professor Gast was, but Hojo had just ignored him. A few days later, they were all on their way to Midgar.

He had never seen Professor Gast again.

Sephiroth didn't remember much about those early years in Midgar. The research went on, but this time behind the monolithic walls of the Shinra tower, and with Dr. Hojo in charge. What he did remember, he mostly tried to forget. Where Professor Gast had been warm and understanding, Hojo was cold and unfeeling. No, unfeeling wasn't quite right. Unfeeling left the impression that the person might be capable of feeling, might have the capacity somewhere deep inside him. Hojo wasn't like that. With his dark vacuous eyes, his pale hands, he seemed like a walking corpse to Sephiroth, more dead than alive.

The experiments had changed too. Suddenly rooms began to fill up with human subjects for Dr. Hojo's experiments. Hojo worked on them with the same lack of empathy in which he might work with a beaker full of toxic waste. He didn't see them as humans. In fact, he didn't even see them as alive. To him they were just 'specimens'.

After a while Sephiroth got used to hearing the sound of screams.

At first he had been afraid. He didn't like Hojo, and he knew that Hojo knew it. He was afraid that some day, he was going to end up as one of Hojo's 'specimens' himself.

Yet, much to his surprise, his feelings about Hojo didn't seem to bother the man at all. In fact, he seemed to take some perverse pleasure in it. As Sephiroth got older, Hojo began dragging him along as he made his rounds among his various experiments, even explaining a little bit about what he was doing. So it was that Sephiroth first heard about mako infusions.

Most of the people who it was tried on died. At least at first. But of course, that didn't bother Hojo any, and he never seemed to suffer from a shortage of specimens. Just like at Nibelheim, however, there were still areas of the lab where Sephiroth was not permitted. It seemed that Hojo and Professor Gast's top secret project lived on.

Sephiroth still wasn't allowed out of the building, a restriction which chaffed him more and more as he entered his teens, but the security at the Shinra building was tight, and the few times he made an attempt he was caught and severely punished. Eventually, he gave up trying.

Even with the security, now that he was getting older he couldn't be shut out completely. He still might not be able to go outside, but that didn't prevent him from learning other things. In spite of the emphasis on secrecy, there was still some loose lips, especially from some of the junior scientists who had nevertheless been working on the project for years and had come to see Sephiroth as a permanent member of the group. It was at this time that he began to hear rumors of Jenova and the Cetra.

He hadn't learned much. All he had to go on were hints and bits and pieces of unguarded conversation. From them he had learned that Jenova was a woman Hojo was experimenting on. The very one, in fact, that was held in the rooms he was forbidden to go in. A number of times he had heard his name linked to her. He had come to the conclusion that is was quite likely this person was his mother.

Sephiroth had no idea how many 'specimens' passed through the lab during those years. He did know that eventually Hojo perfected his mako infusion process. Sephiroth thought the experiments might stop after that, but, if anything, they increased. Hojo was never satisfied, and kept trying to tweak the process to make it even more efficient or make the subjects even stronger. Naturally, it didn't phase Hojo if more people died in the process.

Surrounded by adults, he never really knew anyone his own age. Occasionally Hojo used children as his test subjects, but none of them lasted very long. Well, that hadn't been quite true. Most of the people used in Hojo's experiments didn't last long, no matter how old they were. No more than a matter of weeks for most, but there was one exception. Well, two really. A woman and a small child. Mother and daughter, as he found out. He remembered the woman had struck him as being very beautiful, which was unusual since he didn't really think of Hojo's specimens in those terms. Most of the time he tried not to think about them at all. After all those years with Hojo, a bit of his callousness was bound to rub off. As for the child, he remembered she had had the most striking green eyes he had ever seen. It was obvious right from the beginning that there was something different about them. They were kept in a different section of the lab from all the other specimens, and the experiments that Hojo did on them were different as well. The experiments Hojo performed on them still seemed sadistic to Sephiroth, but Hojo seemed to take great care to try not to hurt them too badly. Not enough to kill them anyway. This was highly unusual for Hojo, and after some prodding of some of the other scientists in the lab, Sephiroth had found out that the two were Ancients, the last two living specimens of the fabled Cetra.

Intrigued, he had sought to find out all he could about these two unusual specimens. Hojo let him watch, and sometimes participate in his experiments, but he never let Sephiroth talk to any of the subjects, explaining more than once that they were test specimens only and shouldn't be treated as human in any way. Nevertheless he had managed to speak to the woman a few times while she was in her cell. She had told him a little bit about the Cetra. But they hadn't had much time to talk, and when Hojo somehow found out about it, the woman had been severely beaten, so much so that Sephiroth thought she was going to die. She recovered, but Sephiroth stayed away from her after that, and only met her one more time.

Still, from her and other sources, he learned quite a bit about the Cetra. Enough to make him believe that he was one of them himself.

All his life, people had told him that he was special, that he was gifted. He often heard the scientists refer to Ifalna as gifted as well. Even at a young age he seemed to have physical skills that surpassed that of most adults. Though he was not allowed outside, they hadn't neglected physical training. He had had tutors in hand to hand and weapons combat for as long as he could remember. Most of them he could defeat by the time he was fourteen. He had heard that the Cetra also sometimes exhibited such skills.

But most of all it was the voices in his head.

He knew the Cetra could speak to and hear the planet. All his life, for as long as he could remember, at least, he could hear a voice of his own. It was always with him, sometimes louder and sometimes a barely heard murmur in the background. He couldn't understand it. He could barely make it out most of the time. Occasionally, when he was alone and all was quiet, and he really concentrated, he felt like he could almost make out some words, but it was only a word here or there. He could never really understand what it was saying, what it was trying to tell him, but it was always there. It never went away completely.

Was it the sound of the planet?

Normal humans couldn't hear it. That had become obvious to him at a very young age. He had thought he was the only one who could. He had never told anyone. With all these secrets that had been kept from him, it made him feel better to have one of his own.

Given those facts, what other conclusion could he come to?

He didn't know who his parents were. Professor Gast had never had a chance to tell him, and whenever he brought up the subject to Hojo the scientist just laughed at him and told him that it wasn't important. But Dr. Hojo had his own twisted reasons for doing things. He seemed to think that if he didn't care about something, then no one else should. By now, Sephiroth had learned to keep his theories to himself.

He had come to the conclusion that the only one who might tell him the truth was the Ancient herself.

So, out of desperation, he had returned to talk to her one night, only to meet her and her daughter in the hallway.

It was obvious she was trying to escape, and that he had caught her by surprise. Even though he had only been fourteen at the time, she would never have been a match for him in a fight. Nor would she have gotten very far if he had alerted the staff. But he had long ago learned to despise Hojo. In fact, it brought him a certain level of satisfaction to see the man's most prized specimens slip through his fingers. Hojo had never done him any favors. Besides, if he really was a Cetra himself, then these people were his closest kin, maybe his only kin, and might be the only one's who could tell him the real truth.

So he had stepped aside to let them pass. He knew he couldn't detain them with questions. They couldn't delay, they didn't have time to stop and chat. As they walked down the hall away from him he saw the young girl peering back at him. He had been tempted to follow.

He had often wondered over the years why he hadn't, and just how much his life might have changed if he had.

But something had held him back. He had sensed the voice inside him, telling him...to wait.

As he got older he got more rebellious, especially toward Hojo. He became sullen and withdrawn, and refused to accompany the scientist on his rounds, spending his time instead practicing his swordsmanship. In the laboratory he was just one of Hojo's lackeys, but in the training rooms, with a sword in his hand, he was a master. Hojo didn't object. Sephiroth though he didn't give a damn either way. So he was greatly surprised when Hojo came to him one day and asked him if he wanted to join the Soldier program.

The basic process had already been perfected, and was considered safe by even those few among Hojo's research team who still seemed to retain some empathy for the rest of humanity. Sephiroth had said he would, but under his own conditions. He would go through the program just like any other recruit. He would no longer be confined to the lab or be under Hojo's watchful eye.

He had expected Hojo to object, but much to his surprise the inscrutable man had merely nodded in assent.

Finally, he was free.

Once he joined Soldier, his rise had been meteoric. Even before the infusion, his strength had been difficult to match. Afterwards, it seemed like no one could stand against him. He rose quickly within the ranks, just as war broke out between Midgar and Wutai.

He had gone to war known only by a few in the ranks of Soldier. He had come back a national hero.

He slowly stood up, his chair giving off a faint squeak of protest. He walked over to the window and looked at the city below.

Yes, he had everything he wanted now. He was rich. He was famous. He had long ago pulled himself free from Hojo's shadow.

Yet still those same questions that had haunted him as a child remained unanswered.

Who am I?

Was he really a Cetra? He still believed that. It was still the theory that made the most sense. Had Hojo known his parents? Had they been two of his unnumbered 'specimens'? Sephiroth would not have been surprised at all if they had. Had Jenova been tortured by Hojo's twisted experiments just like the other Cetra woman?

He wasn't sure what had happened to his parents. Professor Gast had been murdered at Icicle Inn. The perpetrator had never been found.

But he had his suspicions.

He glanced up at the darkened ceiling. Two floors above him the lab was still there. Hojo was still there, still performing his perverted experiments. President Shinra had put up with it for all these years because he seemed to think that Hojo's experiments had some value. Sephiroth supposed they did. After all, Hojo had succeeded in perfecting the process of mako infusion. President Shinra might not be quite as cold hearted as Hojo, but that didn't prevent him from using Hojo and his experiments to his own benefit. As far as Sephiroth was concerned, one was as guilty as the other.

Someday both of them were going to pay.

He raised a clenched fist above his head as he felt years of suppressed anger welling up inside him. And something else as well. Whenever anger stirred inside him, the voice did too. Not louder, but more incessant. It was almost as if somehow his anger fed it, as if it were urging him on...

He felt a tingling sensation run through his body. He looked up and stared at his hand. The room was dark. There were no lights on, but enough light seeped in from outside to let him see it dimly. It seemed to be...changing.

He blinked his eyes and rubbed them against the cloth of his Soldier uniform. He was a general in the army. He had fought in the Midgar Wutai war. Had been in battles where men had died all around him. Had found bravely, showing no fear.

But that was what he felt now. Fear.

The anger suddenly gone, he drew his hand down and looked at it.

There was nothing unusual about it.

The room felt hotter, and he felt a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead.

For a moment it had looked as if it wasn't his own hand at the end of his arm. It had changed, had become courser, the fingers seeming to elongate right before his eyes, the nails becoming longer, and sharp, more like claws than fingernails.

It wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

He'd seen things before. Off and on, throughout his life, though lately it had started to happen more often. His body changing, warping into something...else.

For a long time he had thought he was hallucinating. The truth was, he still wasn't sure he wasn't. No one else had ever seen it. It never happened when anyone else was around. Nevertheless, after all this time of seeing it, he had come to believe it was real, and not just his mind playing tricks on him.

He had never discussed it with anyone, just as he had never discussed any of his other secrets. He suspected this might be another manifestation of his being a Cetra. He had never heard of the Cetra exhibiting anything like that, but what else could explain it? It certainly wasn't a human trait, and there were still many things he didn't know about the Cetra.

He walked into the bathroom, clicking on the light. He blinked for a moment, then stepped over to the sink. Turning on the water, he splashed some on his face and then lifted his head to look in the mirror.

He knew he wasn't quite human. There were too many differences between him and those around him. It was obvious. And if not human, then Cetra was the only other choice.

Wasn't it?

He hadn't found out for a long time what happened to the Cetra woman and her child when they escaped from the Shinra building all those years ago. The woman had died soon after escaping, but the child lived on. He had only recently found out that Tseng had her under observation in Sector Five. He had been pondering the possibilities since he had found out.

He was a patient man. His first impulse had been to find her, to find out if she could shed some light on his past, to see if she could tell him if he really was a Cetra.

But President Shinra has spies of his own, otherwise he would never have stayed in business for as long as he had. Sephiroth was quite sure the President had people shadowing him, just as he had his own people doing the same to the head of the company. He didn't want to risk her being found. At least, not yet.

Sephiroth was a famous General, but his power wasn't limitless. President Shinra was a powerful person in his own right, and had a lot of powerful friends. Even Sephiroth couldn't oppose him openly. But somewhere along the line the man was going to make a mistake. It might be next week or ten years from now, but either way Sephiroth would be ready. One day the man would slip up, and on that day, he and Dr. Hojo were going to pay with their blood.