Chapter VII - The Fear

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Sephiroth found that his fear of hospitals was bearable when focused on another, when he knew he wasn't going to be poked or prodded and tried to convince himself that the medical staff were there to help not to maim.

Why did this have to happen on a Friday night? He angrily wondered, sat in the crowded waiting room. So far a woman had been wheeled in, high with a stiletto lodged in her temple, a man had spewed something nasty everywhere and another had crouched on the floor to defecate because he was convinced he was camping with 'Big Bird'. Despite all this, it was Sephiroth the patients and staff stared at bewilderedly, perhaps it was because they recognised him and were surprised to see him barefoot in grey joggers and a black tank top... maybe they were staring at the emaciated child howling on his lap, writhing as if she was possessed as he struggled to keep hold of her while she arched her back and slid off his lap. Every time a nurse or a doctor approached; another drunk entered and in the chaos Sephiroth was sure Alice must have appeared as if she was having nothing more than a tantrum as she kicked her legs and pushed herself away from him.

"Stay still!" He demanded, pulling her back onto his lap as she wailed.

Everything seemed to occur in slow motion, his brain not fast enough to register with his senses as Alice's eyes rolled and her arches quickened into trembling convulsions.

"This way Sir!" A doctor ushered him behind a dark blue curtain, though he didn't recall moving, the sterile scent permeating his senses while concern and familial terror endorsed his brain; accompanied with vicious memories as the Doctor and her team bombarded him with every question he was unsure of, worrying him further and unintentionally reminding him of years he'd rather forget.

Terrified to look at the medical officials, expecting their faces to morph into that of Hojo's and his henchmen, Sephiroth stared at his child, convulsing on a hospital bed, her sides padded with pillows and her neck supported as her head slammed back and forth. This, he considered less frightening than the medical staff... and that scared him.

"Has she had seizures before?"

"I don't know."

"Does she have epilepsy?"

"I don't know."

"How old is she?"

"Two."

"Why is she so underweight?"

"I've just received custody of her."

"How did she get these bruises? Is she allergic to anything? When did these symptoms first appear? Has she ever seen a doctor? Does the child's mother know she's here? Singing might calm her down; does she have a favourite song? How long have her feet been like this?"

"I'm... unsure, more than three days?" It sounded terrible to his own ears, that he knew nothing other than her name, birthday and parentage.

The world rushed passed but Sephiroth seemed to be in his own little time bubble; a protection from the familial environment.

Doctors rushed through, tests were carried out, results returned and Sephiroth returned to himself an hour later, having been abandoned in a private room as Alice was carted into surgery... and he was unsure why.

He sat, wringing his hands trying to understand what could have happened that required her to have surgery, perhaps broken bones from the convulsions? An old experiment of Hojo's gone wrong? Or maybe a muscle deteriorating virus of some sort? Could it be that there was nothing wrong with her at all and Hojo had wormed his personal plans into the Doctor's mind?

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