Stockholm Syndrome

Chapter One: Kidnapped

Marlene stared out the window at the rain.

It was three months since the destruction of the Remnants, and since everyone had been cured of Geostigma. Everything had returned to normal – or as normal as things could be, anyway.

Tifa was still running the bar. Cloud was still doing his deliveries. Rufus Shinra was still lying to the public. Denzel was still teasing her.

But there was something wrong; some undercurrent of discord, some twist of insecurity and fear that had started to infect the people. More and more people had started to stay indoors, kids had stopped playing their games, adults had been calling in sick for work…

AVALANCHE, normally, would have investigated what was going on, but it was near impossible to contact any of the members – Vincent never replied to his phone, Yuffie was busy in Wutai, Cid was working on building a new craft and Barrett's oil field had come up with some unexpected complications in the quality of the oil.

That was strange in itself.

But the more Marlene looked out the window at the rain, the more uncomfortable she felt. The few that dared to venture out of their homes were hurrying, rushing towards their destination with a masked expression on their face, as though they were hiding their emotions from anyone who, like her, watched silently from the windows without daring to go outside.

Something was incredibly out of place with Midgar, and it was beginning to unnerve her.

Denzel, like Marlene, was watching the people outside of the window. Again, like her, he was lost in thought, contemplating the change in atmosphere since he'd been cured. It was duller, lifeless.

His eyes came to rest on a dead tree in a garden far away, and he inwardly wondered how long it had been standing there for, lonely and bare. With a shrug, he glanced around, before shivering as a chill ran up his spine without reason.

What was it that was bugging him so much?

"Play with me."

Three words. A whisper on the wind. Denzel whipped his head around, searching for who had spoken.

Nobody was there. Did he imagine it? Was he being paranoid?

"Play with me."

Softly spoken, yet insistent. A quiet demand.

"Marlene?" Denzel cautiously asked, his eyes scanning his room for any sign that someone else was there. Marlene certainly wasn't. Warily, he padded out into the hallway, searching for the voice.

"Tifa? Cloud?"

There was no reply. Increasingly worried, Denzel slipped into Tifa's room. She was asleep, breathing quietly. Marlene was there, gazing out the window in the opposite direction. She heard him come in and turned around. "Denzel? What's wrong?"

"Where's Cloud?"

"He's out on a delivery." She studied his face. "You look worried."

"I … " Denzel shrugged. "I must have imagine it. Don't worry."

Marlene turned back to the window, not daring to ask Denzel if he'd felt the same disquiet she had whenever she looked outside. Across the room, he was inwardly longing to ask the same thing, but too afraid of being scorned –or worse, that he'd imagined it– to mention it. So he walked out of the room, and down the stairs into the bar.

It was quiet, untouched. Nobody was there. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the room.

Without really knowing why, Denzel took two tentative steps towards the door, and unlocked it, standing in the doorway and looking out.

A childlike figure staring out an adult world, filled with adult problems.

"Play with me."

Those three words again. Denzel wondered "Who are you?"

"I'm your friend."

"Where are you?" Denzel didn't realize he'd been speaking out loud. His voice was barely louder than the other voice which was whispering back.

"Turn around and count to ten."

"Why?"

"It's a game."

Denzel obediently turned around, after ten seconds, asked again "Where are you?"

"Right behind you."

Denzel began to spin around – he saw a black-gloved fist – he cried out – and then nothing.

Marlene heard Denzel's cry and whipped around. "Denzel!"

Tifa blinked awake. "Wha?"

Marlene had already darted outside the room, down the stairs, into the bar. The door was open, and without thinking, she rushed towards it, only wanting to know what was wrong with her friend, why he'd cried out, why –

Crack.

A picture of an all-too-familiar smile, and then blackness.

Author's Note: Eek. I really shouldn't have written this, with my exams and NaNoWriMo looming closer, but this plotbunny won't leave me alone! So there you go. I hope you enjoyed this, and I will probably update after November (because I'm going to be focusing on NaNo all through November). Until then, thanks for reading, and I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a review. :-)