The Subverted Flower

            Tseng's gaze was like steel- harsh, cold, and, when forged in the right conditions, deadly. It really was no wonder he was called "the Ripper" behind his back; his very eyes seemed to rip right through his victims. Rude knew Tseng well; he'd been with him through much of Death Row. He'd seen the man start off as a silent, submissive prisoner, bearing pain and humiliation without a murder. And now that prisoner had become master of the remaining cellmates.

            Rude wondered why those eyes still rattled him.

            "They were attacked?" Tseng flung out the question like a whip.

            Rude gave a single nod. Beside him, Elena flinched, even though Tseng's words had not been directed toward her. Both were standing in Tseng's office: a little room adjoining the Turk staffroom. Their leader often retired to his desk in what was dubbed "his sanctuary" for some peace and quiet, for instance, to get away from Reno's loud cheers (or cursing, depending on who he'd bet) when watching sports on tv. It was the only room on the floor with a desk. Tseng claimed it was because he had a lot of paperwork, but Rude privately thought he slept here. It would certainly explain a lot.

            Such as why he was so grumpy at the moment. Tseng drummed his fingers on the desktop in a rare show of obvious tension. He frowned, thinking, then looked up.

            "Elena," he said in a far gentler tone than he'd used with Rude. "Tell me what happened. Every detail, please."

            Elena recounted what had happened, to the best of her memory. She faltered at the part with the attempted rape, but Tseng nodded understandably and waved her on. When at last she finished, ending with their arrival at Rude's (She'd conveniently forgotten to tell her leader of her bout of crying. That detail he didn't need to know about!), Tseng again appeared in deep thought. When he spoke, it was with the same iron control they had learned to respect and fear.

            "Where is Reno?"

            Rude shrugged.

            "He's, he's still injured, sir," Elena offered. "What with last night and all, he's probably resting."         

            Tseng smiled mirthlessly. "As much as I'd love to believe it, Elena, it's not likely with Reno." He scowled suddenly. "Dammit! The one day I need him here- and he's 'following orders'!"

            Rude doubted it as much as his leader. "I'll call him, sir."

            "Thank you," Tseng said curtly. "Right now."

            Rude exited the room, pulling the PHS from his coat pocket.

            Elena shifted uncomfortably. Tseng was bent over his desk, flipping through some documents.

            "Now, Elena," he said absently, "go back to the beginning and tell me the parts you left out. Such as what you were doing at Reno's in the first place."

            Elena fidgeted. She was not a good liar. It had been easy with Rude; he never pressed hard when he sensed the subject was unwilling to answer. Tseng, on the other hand, was not easily put off. Her first instinct was to tell him the truth, that Professor Hojo had hinted at treachery among the Turks, and she was supposed to be his spy.

            Then she remembered Reno and Rude deciding to wait for Tseng to share their secret. Whatever it was, he was in on it, as much as it pained her to admit it.

            He'd looked up by now, his steely eyes seeming to go right through her. She tried to say something, to make up some lie, but she suddenly found it difficult to breathe, let alone speak.

            He got up and came around the desk. "I know you've been through a lot, Elena," he said, kindly, but with that same firm undertone. "Don't worry, I won't be angry with you. Just tell me the truth."

            His condescending tone hit a nerve. She would not be patronized by any of them, especially Tseng! Her mind racing, Elena quickly conjured up a story too personal for him to ask many questions.

            "I…I heard Reno was the reason Sector 7 was destroyed." Her voice did not sound like her own. "My brother…was killed during that accident. I wanted to…to confront Reno about it."        

            Tseng's expression didn't change. "What did he say?"

            "He said…" God, she was a horrible liar! "He said yes, it was true he did it. He was sorry, since it was my brother and all, but defended his actions, since…"

            "Since I was the one who had him do it," Tseng finished for her. "I see." The kindly overtone evaporated. "You're sure, Elena?"

            Her mouth was dry. "I'm sure," she forced out. She disliked lying to Tseng, in fact she abhorred it. But she couldn't make herself tell him the truth until she knew what was going on.

            Rude knocked, then walked in without waiting for an answer. "Reno's not home," he said shortly.

            Tseng let out an exasperated breath. "Why couldn't he have broken his leg so we could be reasonably sure where he was?" he said rhetorically, then shook his head. "No, Rude, don't go looking for him, we don't have time. All three of us are heading out after Cloud today. Reno can wait." He turned to Elena. "I'm sorry. I would send you home for the day, but I need you."

            "I'll be all right, sir." Elena straightened, face brightening considerably.

            He patted her shoulder. "Good for you. You and Rude get ready. I've got a few calls to make."

            She flinched at his touch, yet wished he wouldn't move away. Of course he did, going back to his desk and rifling through more papers with such obvious dismissal it seemed impolite to stay. She stammered a thank you (for what, she couldn't fathom) and followed Rude out the door. Tseng didn't look up.

            Out in the hallway, she ran to catch up to Rude. Those harsh dark lenses he wore were fixed straight ahead, and, seeing them, Elena suddenly recalled how different he looked without them, how humane and gentle he'd seemed…She felt a flash of anger. What was he hiding from the world? She'd noticed the scar, of course, but it wasn't really disfiguring. At least, she suspected it wasn't the reason for the shades. Perhaps Rude simply hid himself from view for the same reason animals blended in with their surroundings: to shield themselves from predators.

            The thought didn't make any sense. Rude had nothing to hide from- he was a Turk! She couldn't think of anything that could scare Rude, crack that solid barrier of stone. Maybe he simply preferred the look.

            "You shouldn't be so afraid of him," Rude said, sitting on the couch in the staffroom.

            She blinked, standing still. "Who? Tseng?"

            Rude nodded. He suddenly got up and went into the small adjoining room. He returned, pulling on a tight leather glove. Elena blanched, but he only made a fist and walked over to a punching bag in the corner. "You're so nervous around him," he said as he slammed his fist into the bag. "Relax. He's not such a bad guy."

            Elena hurried over to the couch and sank down on its edge. "I-I'm not that nervous around him," she demanded quickly. "He's…a little intimidating, that's all."

            Rude spun and delivered a kick to the bag that whirled it around on its hook. "You're stammering."

            "I am not!"

            Suddenly a knock sounded on the door that led out to the hall. Rude continued with his workout, obviously prepared to ignore the knock. Elena jumped up and opened the door.

            It was Kayla, a young receptionist that worked on this floor. Elena had met her when she had first become a Turk. She worked for Heidegger.

            "What is it, Kayla?" Elena asked, trying to straighten her uniform.

            "I need to see Mr. Tseng," she said, adjusting her square glasses. "It's important, Elena."

            "What's important?" Rude came to stand behind Elena, wiping sweat off his face.

            Kayla gave a frightened squeak; Rude was considerably more imposing and authoritative than his blond partner. "M-Mr. Heidegger sent me, sir. They found a man in the streets, hurt real bad."

            "So what?" Rude said impatiently. "That's not our-"

            Kayla shook her head. "It's Reno. They just brought him in."

~

            Rude fumbled in his breast pocket for cigarettes, then remembered he'd smoked the last of them earlier that morning. Nervous habits always seemed to have a way of going from bad to worse, didn't they? Especially when you needed something to distract you this badly.

            Reno lay on the stainless steel table in front of them. His skin was ghastly grey underneath a thick layer of dried blood that reminded him absurdly of icing on a cake. Happy birthday, Rude. Your best friend- okay, let's face it, your only real friend is bloody and beaten and unconscious. Make a wish and blow out the candles.

            Tseng stood stiffly besides him, his face so coldly impassive that Rude wanted to punch him. Did he even give a rat's ass? Or was he just annoyed because it meant he'd have to give out more sick time, maybe even find another replacement?

            Rude knew that wasn't what Tseng was thinking at all, but he was nervous- fuck nervous, he was scared to death- and he didn't have his cigarettes, and when he was scared and he couldn't let it out in any other way he got mad. And since Rude couldn't hit Tseng, he would just have to settle for thinking bad thoughts about him, that was all.

            Elena's presence made it worse. She stood on Tseng's other side, biting her lip, looking determined not to cry or panic or do any of the things she obviously needed to do. Poor kid really shouldn't have to see this stuff.

            Why wasn't anyone helping Reno? What were they waiting for?

            "Why isn't he at the hospital?" Rude demanded softly. Both Tseng and Elena looked at him. Elena seemed surprised by his anger. What, did she expect him to be happy?

            Tseng was standing like the drill sergeant again, a position he seemed to favor when he knew he was the only thing holding them together. All the same, he seemed hesitant.

            "…It would look bad," he said in clipped you-know-the-answer-but-you-just-want-to-hear-it-from-me tones. "Word would get around. Heidegger doesn't think the public should hear about a Turk being beat up on the streets. And the bodies. Too gruesome. It could get ugly if it's not covered up."

            You can't cover up something like this, Rude wanted to argue. It's a busy area of the sector. Lots of people probably saw. And Valline's wife will talk. Unless you sent somebody out there to dispose of her, and you won't talk about that, will you, Tseng? Image is very important to these bastards, and I think it is to you, too.

            Out loud he said, "And our call-on-order doctor?"

            "Should be arriving any moment," Tseng said coolly.

            Rude checked Reno's pulse and was relieved to find it was steady. A little too fast, but better than too slow. Blood loss was the thing they had to worry about.

            At last the door behind them opened. A strange man, presumably the medic they'd had to call, strode in. He was a thin, nervous-looking man with a tightness to his mouth that seemed to reflect impatience. Young, for a doctor.

            Hojo glided in behind him.

            "What's he doing here?" Elena said sharply. It was the first time she'd spoken since her first startled "Oh, God!" at the sight of Reno.

            Hojo cackled and rubbed his hands together. "I am always interested in the ways of science, my dear young lady. I am an observer, nothing more. And besides, this is my lab you're using."

            That was true. The only sterilized room in the building. In case they had to operate or something.

            Hojo let out one more freaky, high-pitched cackle and then stepped back, melting into the background as the young doctor began to examine Reno.

            "Dr. Cummings," he said curtly, not raising his eyes or offering to shake hands. "Exactly what happened to this man?"

            Tseng explained, to the best of his knowledge. Reno had been found unconscious in Sector 5 by a few soldiers who'd gone for a drink. They'd recognized him, called Headquarters, then searched the area. Nearby were three dead bodies; two unidentified and the third a middle-class/poor weapons merchant, Nik Valline. Valline's throat had been cut, but the other two had been shot.

            Shinra sent out a truck to bring him in. No emergency vehicles, just an ordinary delivery truck. No need to alarm the public. As they were loading Reno, he woke up a bit and seemed somewhat coherent. He'd started rambling a confused story of what had happened to him. He mentioned Valline's wife, still alive, and told them to stop the car so he could get out and teach her a lesson. After a few minutes, though, his energy depleted, and he'd returned to unconsciousness. And there he'd stayed.

            "Mm." Cummings had a stethoscope and was listening to Reno's heartbeat. "I've been told not to use materia of any kind. Why?"

            Again, it was Tseng who explained. Turks didn't use magic because it had a way of making you soft. The Turk code was based on the individuals survival by using strength and wits, not some half-understood magical stones. Reno, especially, had always seemed rather freaked out by the idea of being healed by the planet's spiritual energies or whatnot.

            By the time Tseng had finished, Hojo was shaking his head and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "fools" under his breath. He shut up when Rude looked at him.

            Cummings had been undoing Reno's shirt while Tseng talked and now he very carefully pulled it open. Shredded skin, which had stuck to the shirt when the blood congealed, pulled away by the force. Elena gasped at the sight and hastily averted her eyes.

            Undeterred, Cummings probed the various wounds. "Looks like he had a run-in with someone very good with a knife," he muttered. "Very good, or very desperate. Not all of the blood is his own."

            "Is he going to die?" Elena blurted, sounding a bit hoarse.

            The doctor seemed surprised. "What? Oh, no. He's a hardy fellow. It looks bad, but none of these are especially deep." He pulled apart one of the cuts to spray it with antiseptic. "You see? If he'd been a little slower, that might have disemboweled him, but he got lucky. Now, this here-" He indicated a somewhat deep slash on Reno's throat- "had me worried, but it missed the artery. He's been through worse; you can tell by these scars. Now…" He suddenly frowned. "What caused these burn marks? All over his back and chest. Some on his face, too. A fire? But they seemed to be almost overlapping-"

            Tseng cleared his throat. "What can you do for him?"

            Looking annoyed at being interrupted, Cummings answered coolly, "He'll need stitches here, on the forehead, on this slash on the chest, and the rest should be bandaged. Blood loss is the problem. He may have a concussion, but I can't check without my equipment, and anyway I doubt it. The biggest problem seems to be exhaustion." He paused. "Is this man a drinker?"

            Tseng rolled his eyes but said nothing. Elena sniffed.

            "Yeah," Rude finally admitted.

            The doctor shook his head. "He's burning the candle at both ends. Tell this boy to get some rest, not get excited, and for God's sake stay out of the bar. Tell him to try water. His liver'll thank him for it. " He began to pack up his things. "I'm a doctor, so believe me when I say he won't last if he goes on like this."

            "That's it?" Elena asked, looking relieved. "Blood loss and exhaustion?"

            The doctor smiled. "That's it, Miss. Unless maybe he's bleeding inside, but it's not likely, and there's not much I could do about it anyway. I have to go now, so I'll leave him in the capable-" Rude could have worn the man's lips twitched. "-hands of Professor Hojo. He can stitch our boy up all right."   

"Thanks for coming." Tseng began walking with him to the elevator. "Rude and I will see about your pay."

"That's not necessary-" Cummings began.

"I insist." Tseng glanced back. "Rude?"

It's not worth it, Tseng, Rude thought, and inwardly sighed. It wasn't Tseng's fault. Heidegger was determined to cover it all up, and so it fell to the Turks to perform the disagreeable tasks.

"I'd rather stay here," he said with some apprehension. Questioning Tseng's orders could sometimes be unwise.

Yep, he looked mad, but he didn't argue. "Fine," he said curtly.

"I'll help you, sir," Elena offered, eager to please.

Rude could have laughed at Tseng's comical expression. He didn't, though. He liked the nice young doctor, obviously skilled in his work. It'd be a terrible waste.

"That's all right, Elena," Tseng said quickly, after he'd recovered. "I'll handle it." He left, Cummings following suit. He waved at them over his shoulder. Elena waved back. Rude didn't.

Hojo was already beginning to stitch up some of Reno's more serious gashed, muttering and cackling to himself. Rude noticed with a mixture of relief and some alarm that Reno's eyes were beginning to flutter. Relief that he was okay, alarm that he would kill Hojo by awakening to find him so close.

On second thought, maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. Rude kept his mouth shut.

"I don't understand," Elena confided to Rude, stepping closer to him so she could speak softly. "What was Reno doing in that part of the city that got him beat up?"

Rude had an idea, but only told her part of it. "Probably those guys you ran into last night."

"Oh!" One hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God, they could have killed him!"

Rude nodded stiffly.

Elena was silent for a moment, obviously contemplating what Reno's death would have meant. When she did speak, she sounded troubled. "I wouldn't want to die like that. Alone and bloody in the street. And for what, really? Depends on what they want, right? But they just want to kill us." She seemed to be musing to herself, now. "But…is it only because we're Turks? I don't understand." She lapsed into silence, biting her only lip.

Something was bothering Rude, too. If Reno was in danger, then so was Elena, even if she didn't realize it. And he did not like that idea at all.

"Hey!" Elena cried suddenly. "What do you think you're doing?"

This was directed at Professor Hojo, who had gotten out a large syringe filled with a strange greenish liquid. He was preparing to inject it in Reno's neck.

In three long strides Rude had crossed over to Hojo and had him by the collar. He said no words, just stared at the man with an expression of quiet promise.

"My, but you Turks do overreact," Hojo said, smoothly, but obviously having a hard time getting his breath. "An antibiotic, nothing more. We wouldn't want our young friend to get an infection, would we?" His nasty smile made Rude tighten his grip just a little bit.

"Professor Hojo, you were not told you use an 'antibiotic'," Elena said quietly. "And, frankly, none of us really trust you at all. So just follow orders, or you may find you have to resign."      

Rude blinked- it was the closest thing to a threat he had ever heard Elena say. Hojo coughed and stared at her in obvious surprise, but she stared back without flinching.

"As you say, Miss Elena." He twisted a bit and obligingly Rude dropped him to the floor, where he staggered but managed to stay upright.

Reno suddenly gave a moan and made an attempt to sit up. "Christ, what have I been drinking?" he muttered with a hand to his head. He glanced up and saw the syringe in Hojo's hand. "Holy shit! You weren't going to stick me with that thing, were you?"

"Reno!" Elena looked ready to throw her arms around him, but contained herself, luckily for both of them. Reno still looked uncharacteristically weak, and probably irritable.

He looked around the lab with disgust. "Okay, how the hell did I get here?"

Rude gave Hojo one look and jerked a thumb to the door. Hojo glared, stuffed the syringe in a secret pocket in his coat, and stomped over to the elevator. As he pressed the button, he added, "Oh, Elena? Why don't you ask your esteemed leader exactly how he disposed of Cummings?" The elevator came and he boarded before anyone could think to reply.

"Dispose?" Elena repeated. Her brown eyes darted from Reno to Rude. "I…I'll be right back." She walked quickly to the elevator and pressed the button.

"Wait, Elena!" Rude said quickly, but she ignored him and stepped in.

"Who's Cummings?" Reno asked, still sitting on the table. "Or don't I want to know?"

Rude didn't bother answering. He looked intently into his partner's face, now washed clean of blood, but still in pretty bad shape. "Do you remember what happened?"

"What? Oh, that. Yeah, most of it." Reno shrugged, pulling his long legs up onto the table. "I managed, but barely."

"What do you mean?"

Reno looked at Rude for a long time before answering. "I'm losin' it, man," he said softly. "I can't handle this anymore. It's like I'm getting old, and I'm not even thirty. I'm getting tired." He shook his head.

"Reno…" Rude didn't know what to say. "What do you want to do?"

"Do?" Reno barked a laugh. "I don't want to do anything. I'd kinda like for everything to just…stop." He paused. "It's like…when Wat has the nightstick on you. It's so intense that your think you're going to die. And every second it gets worse and worse, but you're kind of fading, and you don't feel it as much. Suddenly, right before you can't take it anymore, it's a two-way street: Do you live or do you die? You don't know which way you wanna go- neither one's a very attractive prospect. But you don't control whether you do or not. It's not up to you. So, in that split second before you discover whether you'll live this time around, you stop caring. You honestly don't give a damn. All you know is you want out, one way or the other.

"It's like I'm frozen like that."

Reno lapsed into silence, his gaze fixed on a thread he was picking from the hem of his right leg. Rude had the distinctly uneasy feeling he knew exactly what Reno was talking about. He thought the analogy to Wat and the nightstick strangely ironic, since Reno was still carrying the weapon around. And had showed no inclination to give it up.

Still. There had to be a way out of that prison, so to speak. Rude said, "It doesn't always feel like that, though. Right?"

Reno didn't respond at first, then nodded. He was winding the thread from his pants around his index finger now, tinting it a faint red. Rude watched it slowly turn purple, then a pale blue.

"Yeah," Reno agreed. "Like when I'm sloshed, or I'm…I dunno. Distracted. It's not usually so bad. Just today I wasn't distracted anymore. I mean…" He leaned forward. The thread wound around his index finger had turned the surrounding skin fleshy white.

"What?" Rude brought his eyes back up to Reno's face.

"It hit me, today," Reno said vehemently. "Wat's dead. He's not holding the nightstick anymore. I can choose for myself what road I want to take. Except it feels like someone else has it on me, because I still can't move."

Rude found he was needing a drink very badly. "So what are you going to do?" he asked for the second time.

Reno unwound the thread from his finger and snapped it off the cuff of his pants. Blood began to move again, coloring the skin. "I'll wait," he said with the ghost of a smile. "I'll focus on Lirves and Cloud and that business with Sephiroth returning from the dead. I'm coming back to work soon, just because I need something to keep me occupied. We'll wait and see what direction I take."

Rude nodded. "Well, I'm glad you're okay." An understatement, really. Before the doctor's arrival, Rude had been scared shitless. Faced with the possibility that Reno could be dying, Rude had realized how horribly lonely life would be without him. And it wasn't just that the redhead was a good drinking buddy. Reno understood him, was the only one who did. Not even Tseng came close, even though he'd also spent time in Death Row. Tseng was…somehow alien, really. A good man to work for, but never a close friend. Without Reno, Rude would be alone with the problem of training Elena.

"Wanna know something weird?" Reno said suddenly. "That Cloud Strife. You met him?"

Rude shook his head. Strife. He'd been in charge of that small group that invaded headquarters, right before President Shinra had been killed. Rude had seen him, but not spoken to or come face to face with him.

"I did," Reno said. He had a vacant, glazed look in his eyes- the look of a man going over some puzzling instance in his mind. "When I was looking for that chick, Aeris Gainsborough. He was there, and he seemed familiar. I might have seen him before. I dunno." Reno shrugged. "But that's not the weird thing. He stepped in front of her, looking very determined to protect her. He looked at me, opened his mouth. And he got all spastic. Confused, you know?"

Rude felt the slow chill of dawning horror. He wanted to speak, but his jaw was clenched so tight he couldn't open his mouth.

"He mumbled something like, 'I know you…that uniform…'" Reno went on. "Then he seemed to come out of it. Stared at me a second longer, then ran off with that girl, the Ancient. I didn't try too hard to catch them- I was a little buzzed at the time, you may remember- and, to tell the truth, I was sort of freaked. I didn't want to meet up with him again."

But now you do, thought Rude in a scattered sort of way. You do now that you have a score to settle.

Reno hopped off the lab table and began buttoning his shirt, now stiff with blood and no longer anywhere near white. "I'm going home," he announced. "See you tonight?"

Rude was going to shake his head and was surprised to find himself nodding. The bar might do him good. "Yeah, all right. Better check in with Tseng before you leave."

Reno rolled his eyes. "Screw that." Walking a little unsteadily, he crossed the room and went out the door. 

~

            By the time he and Dr. Cummings reached the ground floor, Tseng was fuming. Rude's flat refusal of orders was inexcusable. The Turks were becoming lax. If Rude needed a reminder of what they were supposed to be about, Tseng would be glad to provide him with one.

            He felt the hard surface of the gun pressing against his hip and suppressed a sigh. He had to stop lying to himself- the real reason he was angry with Rude was because he didn't want to do this alone. It was always better with the company of someone else, someone to lighten the burden…share the guilt.

            Tseng realized he was standing undecided before the huge double doors leading out into the street. (Where one more brutal murder won't make a difference, he thought caustically.) Cummings was watching him with a strange mixture of amusement and pity.

            "You're a free man, aren't you?" the doctor said quietly. Tseng looked at him sharply, sure he was being mocked…but Cummings only stood there, holding his black bag. He sounded sad. "You're not so trapped as you think."

            "I don't know what you're talking about," Tseng snapped irritably. He disliked the way the man was looking at him, that piercing gaze full of a strange pity and completely devoid of fear. "And I'm not sure you do, either."

            "Do I?" For a moment Cummings' stare intensified, and Tseng nearly stepped back, severely rattled. He felt naked, exposed, as though his calm, stiff visage was nothing, hid nothing. He forced himself to stand still, but could not help dropping his eyes.

            "Goodbye, sir. I'm glad I could be of service."

            Tseng head Cummings speak- finally with a hint of sarcasm- but didn't acknowledge. He kept his eyes on the floor, teeth clenched. He did not look up, but he heard Cummings swing open the double doors and step outside. For a brief instant, Tseng recognized he was at a crossroads: He could do his duty, or he could look the other way, succumbing to the gnawing guilt inside.

            It was just like that time…his first mission after being freed from Death Row…

            Tseng had his eyes closed, but he saw flowers. Brilliant, colorful hues arrayed in delicate nosegays around the house. A vase by the window, a garland of lilies strung across the opposite wall, hung in graceful arches like the sweep of a girl's brow. Their scent filled him, almost suffocating him with their sweetness, but he didn't mind. Their dizzying beauty seemed to make it, all of it, worthwhile- if it wasn't for what he had to do now.

            He looked at the two women in front of him: One, an aging, tired widow staring at him with hostility; the other, the other…

            Gentle green eyes, wise, knowing beyond their years, latched onto his. Her hair was brown and thick, bound behind her in a single twist. Her skin was flawless ivory, her lips pale rosebuds. Her beauty, while never small, seemed now almost overwhelming, like the scent of the flowers. She was herself a flower in full bloom, Aeris, though she had yet to realize it.

            Tseng's mission, his first, was this: To track her down and make her comply with Shinra's orders. To use brute force, if necessary.

            Tracking her down had been easy. He'd known Aeris' house since he was young- and she'd been hard to forget. He still had her picture, the image that had kept him alive when he thought he'd die of despair.

            "That is why Shinra would like Aeris' cooperation…"

            He trailed off, having recited his prepared speech without hearing a word echo in his ears. Aeris, although seven or eight years his junior, always seemed mature, wiser than her years. Now, however, she backed away from him, shaking her head. She looked pleadingly at the older woman Tseng knew as Elmyra.

            "He's wrong!" she said desperately. "I'm not an Ancient! I'm not!"

            But she was. There had always been something strange about her, an air of mystery, magic. It had to be that, her heritage as an Ancient- or Cetra- that had bewitched him so long ago…

            He pushed his dark sunglasses further up his nose to make sure his eyes were completely hidden, but he was already certain Aeris didn't recognize him. His years at Death Row had changed him, inside and out. His face, his whole bearing had changed. Now he was a man. A man with dark secrets, but nonetheless a man.

            A tiny part of him almost wanted Aeris to recognize him, to tear off his glasses and demand to know what he was doing with hateful Turks…but he was mostly glad she didn't. He could protect her this way, somehow, he was sure. Keep tabs on her from afar, or perhaps convince her to come peacefully. Before Shinra sent someone else in his place- someone who might hurt her.

            They exchanged more words, but to no avail. At length Aeris turned and ran blindly out the door. Tseng sighed and tried to go after her, but Elmyra blocked his path.

            "You will leave these premises immediately, sir," she said resolutely. She was almost a head shorter than him.

            Tseng hesitated. He couldn't risk telling Aeris, but… "It's me, Elmyra," he said at last, removing the shades.

            She squinted at him, the tiny creases around her eyes deepening. "Who…Tseng?" She frowned. "But why are you with Shinra? I should think you'd be the last person to hound her like this!"

            "Please. I don't have time to explain it all." Her studied her carefully, the middle-aged woman who'd baked him cookies as a child. "This is the way it is. I need Aeris' cooperation. I don't want to have to hurt her. Or you."

            "Tseng!" Elmyra snapped, staring at him with a new disgust. "Listen to what you're saying! Aeris will never have anything to do with you filthy Turks as long as-"

            He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall, making her gasp. A vase of flowers on the table tipped and smashed on the floor.

            "Do you want them to send someone else?" he snarled. "I don't want her killed any more than you do! I'm trying to help!"

            He felt her trembling under his fingers, but her eyes were calm, cool, clear, so much like Aeris'. "Who are you trying to help, Tseng?" she said softly. "You know Aeris will never give in to Shinra. What will you do when it comes down to it?"

            That reached him. Slowly, shakily, he removed his hands from her shoulders and lifted them to his face, where they clenched before his eyes. With an effort he forced them to his sides.

            "I…I'm going to go talk to her." He took a breath and straightened his tie. "I give you my word I won't hurt her."

            She didn't smile, but said only, "I know you wouldn't, Tseng."

            He nodded, then turned and stepped outside. It was just evening. Tseng glanced at his watch once and started down the path to the garden, where he knew she would be. He would have to hurry if he wanted to catch the train back to the office. But there would be time for this. He would go to her, explain everything. Beseech her forgiveness. Maybe, just maybe she would…

            He rounded a bend and stopped.

            Aeris was there on a bench, with her back to them. But she wasn't alone. Sitting close beside her was a young man about her own age, with jet-black hair and clear blue eyes. Later Tseng would discover his name was Zack, and that he was a soldier in Shinra's army.

            But that didn't matter yet. What mattered was that his hand was touching hers, his finger wiping away her tears, his lips gently meeting her own. She held fast to him, with the night closing in around them.

            Tseng watched, and all the emotions careening through him- confusion, love, guilt, hope- slowly drained away. He watched them, wondering why he'd ever dreamed that Aeris would wait for him, that she would care that he had only survived the last few years in hopes of seeing her again. He watched them, and in his mind, he heard Kaiser laughing.

            After everything he'd been through for her, she'd found someone else.

            He realized he was still clutching his sunglasses in his hand. He dropped them to the ground, then deliberately lifted his foot and smashed them. Never again would he hide behind those dark frames. He was who he was. And he had a job to do.

            Would he…?

            The moment was a turning point, a crossroads. He could walk away, pretend nothing had ever happened. Let Aeris live her peaceful life and he would never again bother her. He could even make sure Shinra stayed away from her. She could be happy with Zack.

            Or he could make him suffer. Make them both suffer.

            Training as a Turk could make a man very bitter.

            Tseng watched them a moment more and smiled. He could make them both very miserable indeed.

            He turned and was about to head to the train station, but he saw Elmyra standing in the doorway. Her face held compassion, but there was a guarded suspicion there that had not been apparent before.

            Did she know? Did she suspect?

            Tseng discovered he didn't care. He looked at her, looked through her, and then walked past. He needed to catch his train.

            Over the weeks, Tseng continued down the path he'd chosen. He pulled some strings and, for some odd reason, Zack was called away on a long leave of absence to Nibelheim. Nibelheim was a dangerous place, and General Sephiroth was prone to acts of violence. When Shinra received a notice later describing how Zack had been killed in an accident, Tseng was still not satisfied.

            He wanted Aeris. He wanted her to regret having betrayed him. But that part would have to wait.

            Now Tseng reopened his eyes and shoved open to doors leading out into the street. Cummings was slowly walking away, seeming in no great hurry. His black bag swung back and forth.

            Tseng loaded his gun and fired a single bullet. It his Dr. Cummings square in the back of the head. The man went down without a sound.

            Without breaking a stride, Tseng holstered the gun and went to the body. One kick was all it took to flip it over.

            "I'm sorry," Tseng told the sightless eyes, and he truly was. "But the Turks were all I could ever count on. It's the only way I can go. I'm sure you understand."

            He went back inside and called security to dispose of the body.

~Author's Note~

My apologies for the massive delay. I can promise updates will be coming faster now that I have access to the internet once again. (Yeah, that would help)

Ideas? Suggestions? We seem to have reached a stalemate with the interior Turk situation, haven't we? *grin* I believe I might have a way to throw everything to pieces again, however…

Love you for sticking with me!

            ~Lila