What If?

Chapter One: Twenty Year Anniversary

It was twenty years to the day. Tseng grimaced, catching his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Physically he still looked the same. Impossibly straight black hair, fathomless black eyes. Stern mouth. The same red tattoo branded in the center of his forehead. Inside, he felt less and less alive with each passing day. His suit fit him like skin. His tie tightened past the point of comfort around his throat.

He quickly dried his hands, stepping back into the hallway. It was narrow, darker with coal powered lights than the old ShinRa building had ever been. Reno popped out of a door several feet away, a slutty blond tumbling after him, giggling. Reno was drunk, eyes glazed, no grief visible.

"Not at work, Reno," he reprimanded softly. He brushed past both of them, entering his office and reigning in an intense desire to slam the door, pull his gun and start shooting until he ran out of bullets or died. It didn't matter which came first. Instead he sat at his desk, powering up his computer and starting on the pile of never-ending paperwork.

He wondered – not for the first or last time – why he even bothered. ShinRa was dying. The Planet was dying. Peace, always a fleeting ideal, drifted further and further away. And Elena was dead. Stupid, really. He should have paid more attention to Wutai. He had been born there. He should have known that the only way to stop Wutai was to stamp out each and every last man, woman, and child.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. That wasn't really the answer. Killing everyone in Wutai wouldn't have changed anything. Because when all was said and done, people couldn't live together. In the years since ShinRa's inevitable decline, the WRO tried to step up and keep the peace. But for all his talents, Reeve Tuesti was a city planner. He didn't have the cold edge needed to end certain problems before they started.

There couldn't be good without evil. Right now they had rampant chaos. Everyone struggling to fill the power vacuum left by ShinRa. Tseng was surprised it had taken this long, but then again, Sephiroth had caused quite the commotion and left quite the swath of destruction. It had been enough to quell the thirst for vengeance for several long, tedious years.

The door opened.

Tseng's eyes flickered towards the intruder. He wanted it to be Reno or Rude. Then he could yell at them, take out his frustration on them. Instead it was President Rufus ShinRa, no longer the ruthless teenager that had been appointed vice-president.

"Mr. ShinRa," he said, voice smooth as honey. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Rufus closed the door. "Wutai has invaded Edge."

Tseng swore.

"They're killing children in the streets. They intend to 'cleanse' this world of everything ShinRa related. Including people that used to rely on Shinra blindly, thereby allowing ShinRa to rape this Planet and suppress the great Wutai people."

In a different time, Tseng would have known about the attack before the President. Now he just leaned back in his chair, mind whirling through possible responses.

"We don't have an army," Rufus said. "We don't have SOLDIER or the weapons program. What I have at my disposal are three Turks." He ran a hand through his hair. "And as good as you are Tseng, you can't do this."

Tseng privately agreed. "What do you suggest, Mr. ShinRa?" he asked even though it was his job to suggest ideas to Rufus.

"Hn?"

Tseng leaned forward. "Do you have a plan?" He didn't care one way or another. He'd always scoffed at Vincent Valentine for locking himself in a coffin and sleeping through the ripples caused by his mistake. What kind of Turk just gave up and walked away? Well, now, with the years slipping by, Tseng was starting to see the allure of just walking away.

"Possibly," Rufus said. His blue eyes locked with Tseng's. "You look tired."

Tseng didn't answer. He felt tired. Last night, he'd pulled a sealed box of letters from the back of his closet and almost – almost – burned the entire thing. Last night he'd almost put a bullet in his mouth. He could feel defeat in his bones. What had he thought when he left home? That he'd make something of himself? Just work hard and good things will come. Be ruthless. Do the things no one else will do and then one day you can have your happily ever after.

Rufus set an emerald green materia on the desk. "Tseng, I need you with me. Are you still loyal to the Company?"

Great. After twenty years of service his loyalty was being questioned. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course, Mr. ShinRa. It is . . . too late for me to leave, even if I were inclined to do so."

"Perfect." Rufus stood up and started pacing, his white coat flaring. "I must admit that I've been unable to figure out exactly what to do for a while. First it was Geostigma. And then guilt – yes, even I felt guilt. How could I have done this to the Planet, blah, blah, blah. And then I realized that the Company did so much good. We just went a little askew."

A little askew was an understatement.

"So I thought, what if . . ." He smirked. "Powerful words. What if."

Tseng personally thought they were useless words. What if he'd never left home? Would he be first in line to the throne of Wutai by now? Would he have a little sister with a big mouth and a thirst to steal materia? Would he be swept away in a marriage of convenience?

Hard to believe he'd left Wutai because he wanted to marry for love. Hard to believe he'd given everything up for something he'd never been allowed to touch while at ShinRa.

"Tseng, I'm going to change the past," Rufus said.

That caught the Director of the Turks's attention, but barely. Everyone wanted to change the past. "Pardon?"

Rufus picked up the materia. "You're going to help me." He rolled the green stone between his fingers and toxic green light began to spill from its depths, spinning around the room and the two men. Tseng felt a jerk just above his navel, an irresistible pull. He blinked and when he opened his eyes, he was in a storage closet, Rufus ShinRa standing between a mop and broom with a sharkish grin on his face.

"Rufus," Tseng said, dropping all pretense of title and propriety. "Why are we in a supply closet?"

"Your office must have been converted from a supply closet," Rufus said, waving a hand dismissively. "Come on. You have work to do."

Tseng raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, would that be?"

"You have to kill me . . . and yourself too."

Tseng pulled his gun in a smooth, practiced motion. Rufus put his hand on the barrel, lowering it. "Not us, our old selves. We, Tseng, are in the past now. What you're going to do is find and kill me – the me that is in this timeline – and then you're going to take yourself out. We'll both step into the places of our younger selves and poof. We're in a position to make 'what if' more than mere daydreams."

At that moment the supply closet door opened and a very startled man in an old ShinRa cleaning uniform stared slack jawed at them. Tseng grimaced, grabbing the man by the throat and yanking him into the closet. He shoved his gun into the man's mouth. "Who is the highest ranking SOLDIER?"

The man garbled something.

Tseng sighed. "If you scream, I'll rip your tongue out and make you write everything down." He removed the gun when the man nodded vigorously.

"S-sephiroth. General Sephiroth."

Tseng didn't exactly expect that. "Who is the Director of Administrative Research?"

"The Turks?" the guy whimpered. "I don't know . . . Vinny?"

"Veld?" Tseng suggested.

"Y-yeah, that's it."

"Who is the vice president?"

"Rufus ShinRa –"

Tseng reached over, snapping the man's neck effortlessly. He positioned the body against the wall, dusting his hands off. "Let's go, Mr. President," Tseng said. "I have work to do."