Disclaimers are the same as in the first chapter.

When scientists battle, they reach for truths and lies. Sometimes, the truth is hidden in lies and the lies outweigh the truth, but it is always wise to never listen to them with a closed mind. Sometimes truths can be found when they are not wanted.

Author's Note: I tweaked a couple mistakes in the earlier chapters, mainly some missing punctuation and added a line to clear up a confusing bit of dialogue. I usually write on this after work, so what makes perfect sense at four in the morning does not scan right when I'm conscious. I'm also sticking to the original magic/materia Seph had in the original game instead of using Crisis Core magic/materia. Thanks to all those people that are following this story, and I hope you will enjoy the rest of the story.

The village was occupied by monsters. Homes broken into, furniture tumbled, leaves drifting over the thresholds, food rotting in storage, it all told Sephiroth a tale of a sudden invasion. There were no bones, no graves, only twisted humanoid creatures and Blood Tastes, giving more credence to the rebels taking the villagers as prisoners, but for what? He never knew rebels to keep prisoners.

Several fountains sprouted around the abandoned houses, tiny trickles of green that repulsed the monsters, but drew the eyes. If he had time to spare, Sephiroth would take a closer look at the fountains, but as it was, he made a note as to where they laid for later examination. With so much pure mako around him, he really wanted to know why this place hadnt been turned into another reactor. What made this place so different?

"Hey, I found someone!"

He shook the questions to the back of his mind as he turned from a faint fountain of green and walked over to the last house in the square. Zack bounced once on his heels and ducked back into the house and after a moment, he followed the teen. It was cool and dark inside, the light coming from the doorway and a pair of small windows set near the back. Like most cottages they have been through, the kitchen, dining room and family space was one large space, separated by half-walls and sturdy furniture. Sephiroth glanced over at the collection of photographs on the sideboard before fixing his gaze on the small gray-haired woman seated at the large table.

"What happened here?" he asked, keeping his voice steady and low.

She looked up at him, her eyes widening. "You must be Sephiroth."

Folding his arms across his chest, he frowned. There was something strangely familiar about her, but he couldn't place ever seeing her before now. She chuckled softly; her blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and making him feel slightly disorientated.

"And I'm Zack!" The Second Class bounced in front of Sephiroth, holding out his hand. The woman looked at him and her smile grew.

"The puppy?"

"Huh?"

Sephiroth turned his chuckle into a cough, bringing the woman's attention back to him. "I'm surprised you know of us, ma'am."

"My son Angeal told me a lot about his friend Sephiroth and his student Zack Fair. He said that you're quite a handsome man, and that Zack is as restless as a puppy." She smiled at the two men, and nodded at the pictures sitting on the sideboard. "We were so proud when Angeal joined SOLDIER. I only wished his father lived long enough to see him become a First."

Was that a note of hesitation in her voice? Tilting his head to the side, Sephiroth studied her for a moment, seeing some of Angeal in her clear eyes and mostly dark hair. But he also noticed the faded marks on her hands, as if she spent years manipulating mako and needles and the other tools of a scientist before coming to this place. She stared back at him; her hands curled in her lap and her smile a faded sweetness on her worn face.

"I never knew Angeal was this small." A picture was shoved into his face, forcing Sephiroth to take a step back. "Look! Angeal and Genesis as babies!"

Taking a deep breath before he said something scathing, Sephiroth did look. Genesis was a toddler, face sticky and a piece of an apple in his chubby fist. Angeal was sitting on a tiled floor, munching on his fist with all the enjoyment of a man with a sweet. He felt a moment of dizziness, his stomach churning, and fought down his unease.

"Put the picture back, Zack," he said, green eyes slitting as he looked beyond Zack's shoulder and at the woman in front of them. "Im sure Mrs. Hewley doesn't like having her personal belongings manhandled."

He recognized that flooring. He knew the angling of lightening, the glow stronger than what most villages needed. Intellectively he knew that Angeal and Genesis were both like him, but seeing proof of it twisted something in his gut. Knowing that they actually had a family that would take pictures like that made the twisting spread.

"I don't mind," she said, her smile not touching her eyes. "They were best friends throughout their lives."

"They grew up together? That's awesome."

"What happened here?" Sephiroth asked, cutting off any more comments from Zack. The younger man put the picture down and sighed, moving over to the window to look outside.

She sighed, toying with the end of her shawl. "A group of men came and took the rest of the villagers away. They said that they were going to finish what was started, but I. . . I don't know what they would need so many people for."

"Do you know who they were?" Zack crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight onto his left leg and tapped his right foot. "I mean, was there any symbols or badges they were wearing that you could see?"

Gillian pursed her lips and then shook her head. "Nothing from what I could tell. There was a pale, skinny man with them and he looked scared. One of the armed men was pushing him around with the barrel of his gun."

"That must be the guy," Zack said, looking over at Sephiroth. The General nodded once, his eyes narrowed and focused on the woman. He was sure she was lying. He didn't know about what, but something in her words didn't sound right.

"Do you know where they were heading?" Zack asked, turning back to Gillian. She frowned, looking at the ground and then nodded.

"I think they headed for the old factory outside of town," she said.

"Zack," Sephiroth said. The teen glanced over at him and Sephiroth nodded towards the door. "Go inform Tseng and make your way towards the factory. I'll catch up after insuring Mrs. Hewley's safety."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I'll make sure she reaches the helicopter."

He chewed on his lower lip and nodded, grinning widely at Mrs. Hewley. "Okay. I'll talk to you later, Mrs. Hewley."

Sephiroth waited until the sound of Zack's boots faded before he moved from the doorframe and took the only other chair in the kitchen space. Swinging it around, he straddled it and leaned forward, folding his arms on top of the back of the chair and resting his chin on his hands. Gillian remained where she was, watching him while toying with her shawl, a faint line showing between her eyebrows.

"So," he said, lowering his voice. "Tell me why you are lying."

Gillian's smile was suited for a different kind of woman. She stood up, her back straight and her steps smooth, and walked over to the stove, moving a kettle onto a burner and turning it on.

"I think some things need tea," she said, reaching above the stove to take out a couple tins. "Do you wish for some, Sephiroth?"

"No thank you."

"So polite," she said, sighing a little. "But you didn't always speak like that. You always had a gift for mimicry, and it surprised him when he heard you copying the guards' slang." She looked into one tin for a long moment and sighed softly. "I think that was when he decided to start the voice lessons."

The tea kettle popped as the water started heating up, and she raised the lid, tossing a few dried brown leaves into the water. Sephiroth's mouth was dry, vague memories of three helmeted men telling him stories in voices accented by Midgar slums. Then the memory was gone and he was back in a dim kitchen, watching an old woman boil her tea.

"Who are you?"

"A former scientist that had retired to raise her son," she said, taking down a heavy earthen ware mug and setting it next to the kettle. "Or so the official reports say. Unofficially, I was brought here to observe the two specimens from Project G and make sure they returned to ShinRa whent he time was right."

She took down another tin and spooned some white crystals into the mug. Taking the kettle off the flames, she covered the burner, and poured the steaming tea into the mug. She stirred slowly, and then set the kettle down, moved back to the table and sat down across from him. Sephiroth remained silent, not sure what he could say to this strange woman. There were too many thoughts in his head; the only one managing to stay put was that she was there at the beginning. She must have known his mother.

Gillian blew on her tea, cradling the mug between her fingers. "Those were strange times. I must admit that we thought that something exciting would happen, that we had finally brought the Cetra back, but then it became all too apparent what we really done."

"I do not see what the past has to do with now," Sephiroth said, finding his voice only to speak harshly. He wanted to know so much but he couldn't say it. The left side of his head hurt and the faint bitter scent of her tea was making it worse.

"Your mother thought differently." Sephiroth jerked back at those words, his eyes widening. Gillian took a sip of her tea and sighed. "She spent her time lost in the texts from the past, looking for the clues to unlock mysteries of Chaos and Omega. Her with her nose in a book, that poor young Turk stumbling after her, was such a common sight in those days. That was before you, Sephiroth. After. . . well, I would have never wished that man on any woman even if he was a genius in his own right."

"My. . . Jenova?"

Gillian snorted, taking a large swallow of tea and standing up. She went to the sideboard and opened the left cupboard, taking out a thick book and returning to the table. She flipped through the pages, and turned it so he could see. A photograph of several people standing in front of a snowy manor, two women and four men, all save one of the men dressed in lab coats and wearing name tags. Gillian looked less worn and haunted, while the stooped-shouldered Hojo looked almost the same. Sephiroth recognized Gast, standing in the back with a fatherly smile, and Hollander wearing sandals and a floral printed shirt under his lab coat, but the second woman, he couldn't place. The Turk also looked unfamiliar, but he had never met the older members of that Department, not that getting old as a Turk was easy.

"I'm surprised that they managed to capture a Turk on film," he said, trying to joke even as he touched the smiling face of the unknown woman.

"Your mother's name is Lucrecia Crescent."

He sucked in air, eyebrows furrowing. Even the name was unfamiliar. He didn't understand why Hojo gave him a different name as belonging to his mother. Was it because he might actually knew her?

"Lucrecia," he said, his lips shaping the name even as he looked up, watching Gillian finished the last of her tea and set the mug down. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"I never understood why she allowed that man to do what he did," she said, her fingers tapping against the mug's lip. "I never thought it was right how you were raised but I was here, unable to communicate with you even as you grew less isolated."

Coughing, she shook her head, her back bending and her breath sharp and harsh. Sephiroth blinked, frowning as he noticed the bluish tint to her lips.

"So I sow seeds to avenge the lovers and you children. . ." She was gasping now, the blue tint spreading across her face. Sephiroth swore, standing up and reaching out to her with hands and magic, calling up the healing powers of Poisona. But the spell fizzled and died as she jerked upright and gasped out 'Nibelheim!' before collapsing onto the floor.

He knocked over the chair and bent down next to her, trying what few items he brought with him to revive her with no success. Sitting back on his heels, Sephiroth stared at her twisted body and silently screamed for her to get up and tell him what she meant. He wanted to know more about his mother, the young woman with the impossibly thick hair in that photograph. He wanted to know about the lovers she mentioned, and why they needed avenging. He wanted to know whatever detail she could tell him but now, all that was left was burying the body and informing Angeal that his mother had died.

Sephiroth didn't even know how he could tell his friend without feeling like a liar.

Releasing his pent-up breath, he slammed his fist into the floor splitting the wood into crazed chunks he stood up and retrieved the book with the picture of the scientists in it. There were other pictures as well, but this was not the time to look at them all. Closing it, he shoved it into a pocket inside of his coat for later study and gingerly picked up the mug Gillian had been drinking from. The bitter smell of almonds reached his nose and he stared back down at the body, his hand closing around the mug and shattering it. He let the pieces fall to the ground and turned away from the table and the house, stepping outside into the sunlight.

A moment later, someone tried dropping a bomb on him.

It had been a long day. He had found a link to his past and then lost it because ShinRa scientists were for life and he understood that for some people, the last act of defiance was to prevent any death not of their choosing. So it was forgivable that Sephiroth reacted without thought or concern at getting a bomb dropped on him.

Fire3 arched up from him, catching the bomb and tossing it up as it exploded. He jumped after the column of superheated air, the Masamune a blur as he twisted and brought it down across the body of a fat ancient ShinRa helicopter. He had a brief glimpse of two pale, open-mouthed faces as the cockpit fell past him, but then he was slapping the propellers away from getting too close to his face, twisted on the updraft from the ruined copter as it hit the ground. And just for good measure, he cast Bolt3 on the wreckage, his mouth stretching in wicked glee at the resounding boom that echoed around the tiny square.

He let his body drift down, finally landed on the ground without any jarring. He tossed his hair back into place and swung his sword over his shoulders, watching the flames catch the gasoline tank and exploding. Amid the patter of falling debris, smaller explosions, and ticking of overheated metal, the ring of his phone sounded hopelessly lost.

"Sephiroth speaking," he said, turning his back on the burning wreckage and walking out of the town.

"We've found what we were looking for," Tseng replied. "Gather any survivors and head out."

"There are none." In his mind's eye, he recalled Gillian's blue face and last words, wondering why she said what she said. Sephiroth glanced around the village and took a deep breath, knowing that this place would only be an embarrassment to the company now there was nothing left. "Is clean-up coming?"

"In ten minutes." A pause - in which Sephiroth could hear someone chattering in the background about orders - and then Tseng was back, sounding businesslike. "This cannot be laid at ShinRa's doorstep."

He wondered if there could be another way to cover up this place besides bombs. Sephiroth closed his phone with a click, tucking it away and looking over the small village, the burning helicopter, the empty houses. He could feel the thick picture album in his pocket and remembered how Gillian talked about the people in that photograph. Revenge for the lovers and the three boys, and then Nibelheim. Some secret that linked the pieces together, along with Genesis, Angeal and himself, pieces he was told about by a girl in pink who had eyes older than any human he had ever met.

The left side of his head throbbing in time to his heartbeat, he walked towards the drop zone in a haze.