*The Hospital*

“How are you feeling…?” The chemical smells of the military hospital did little to set him at ease, but he had come too far now to retreat to his office without at least looking in on the doctors’ latest ‘wonder patient.’

“…Hey…” The dark man managed to welcome him with a smile, playing on his invalid status to drop formality. An attempt at a wave was aborted as one of the IVs got snagged on the railings of the bed.

Moving to intercept before the needle was ripped out of the trooper’s arm, Sephiroth could only ‘tisk’ lightly. “You’re supposed to be sleeping. The scientists tell me your fussing has been trying their patience…”

“…Meryl’s too conservative… I feel fine. Weak as a kitten, but fine… Bored shitless though, you know? How are things? They keeping you busy?” Zack seemed sublimely indifferent to his prolonged hospitalization, trying to steer the conversation on to events in the world he was currently buffered from.

“On a first name basis with the doctors already, Mr. Thomson…? You do work fast…”

“…What can I say, ladies have a soft spot for a man with dimples… doctors are no exception.”

“So that’s how you do it.” The general decided a moment of conversation wouldn’t be completely out of character. Zack was stored in an out-of-the-way room as he recovered faster than the rest. Eventually he would likely get a roommate, if any of the other applicants made it through. Those still needing constant supervision were one hallway over, along with most of the orderlies. Looking around, he admitted he was surprised that the little TV was off. Given the dark man’s rapidly returning energy levels, he was surprised that his latest recruit wasn’t climbing the walls for something to do.

“You’re not missing much while you’re in here… the last of my SOLDIERs are finally being pulled out of Kobani now that the President has made reparations and things have quieted down… Supervision of the outpost is due to return to civilian control within the week… business as usual.”

“…wankers.” The weak voiced comment proved beyond anything that Zack was recovering his mental as well as physical equilibrium. Sephiroth couldn’t help but give the man’s chart a quick peek; knowing as well as any of the scientists did what all the numbers meant.

For a layman, the eyes were a dead giveaway. What had once been a warm but unremarkable brown was now an almost metallic hazel. Not pure green, which amused the general. Apparently Zack was too stubborn for even his eyes to completely alter. They were definitely hazel now, their iridescent glow exaggerated by the room’s subdued lighting. The numbers on the charts all looked favorable, surprisingly so for a man who not a week before had been strapped to a bed raving his way through the worst of the conversion process. Mako was not something an average human body tolerated well even under the best situations; and the combination of drugs and chemicals used to prepare the body for its infusion were not to be ingested lightly. Hallucinations, pain, and extreme emotional instability were to be expected given the remarkably caustic nature of the liquefied life-stream.

Physically most young men of good physical health could tolerate the injections, although one in five troopers who passed screening still suffered some sort of seizures during the initial day and were promptly cut from the program. Sephiroth had no expectation that it was for any humane reason that recruits were dismissed before completing the regimen. The doctors simply didn’t want their fatality rates to look any worse than they already did on their quarterly reports. Zack’s group had started out with twenty-five potential SOLDIERs. The required testing had weeded out ten young men who were judged mentally or physically unready to face the ordeal. Another five had quit after the briefing explaining the risks. Of the remaining ten candidates, six had already responded poorly to the treatments and were dismissed. Two minor strokes, one hemorrhage, one catastrophic kidney failure, and two from complications with their lungs completed the list of dropouts so far. For once every one of the failures seemed determined to survive. Even the one on the respirator had a positive status according to the doctors. Pragmatically he hung the chart back on its hook and pondered the remaining four men. One at least seemed destined to pass the muster. A week-more-or-less would decide the fate of the other three.

“So what’s the prognosis? Am I going to turn into a rabbit or what?”

“… I see your sense of humor is still on the mend.”

“Not my fault you don’t have one.”

“Heh.” There was nothing wrong with Zack’s natural charisma, he decided as he almost sat down despite himself. He had only come down to see how the candidates were faring, a gesture of personal interest. Books on good leadership always suggested that an officer attempt to make his subordinates feel like they were important; and it wasn’t like there were so many SOLDIERs that it was a big draw on his time. ‘Checking in’ was appropriate and properly official. Sitting down for a chat was quite something else. He avoided looking at the newly hazel eyes as their edges crinkled in laughter. It was frustrating enough to know his mood was an open book to without being called on it. “In any case. I think you’ll live. Provided of course that you listen to your doctor.”

“Yes sir. Any chance of getting out early on good behavior? Or should I rattle my tin cup against the bars more often...”

“… I imagine that if you do, they’ll just take it away like they did your football.”

“Yessir.”

“Try to behave Zack.”

“Anything for you, general.”

Retreating to the safety of the hallway, he didn’t have to listen hard to hear the chuckle from the other side of the thin door. Sephiroth sighed quietly wondering what he had gotten in to. Maybe he should have left the man to the departmental two-step befalling other ‘trouble case’ officers. He really didn’t need anymore stress; and he certainly didn’t need a comedian with a tendency for practical jokes. Still, he couldn’t help but be impressed with the adaptive indexes on the trooper’s chart. For good or ill, Zack had what it would take to be an excellent SOLDIER, now the only question was would the program survive him as a member.

“… this is going to be interesting.”

It was too late now to change his mind about accepting the man. All he could do was watch in morbid fascination as the specialist completed his reconditioning and the potential as seen on paper matured into a reality. Two months, three? It wouldn’t be long to wait now; patience was a virtue after all.