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I want to go for a walk, he had declared, and they had promptly abandoned their stacks of paperwork for a nighttime stroll across the plate. Rufus was silent, and barely glanced at his surroundings. She walked faithfully her regulation two paces behind his left shoulder; he was not in need of companionship. The President rarely was, these days.
Head down, gloveless hands thrust inside his pockets, he seemed to be wandering towards Midgar's very centre. She hoped he would walk back to his apartment – all too often now he slept at Headquarters. Reno, out of a combination of anxiety and sheer laziness, virtually lived on the top seven floors in a bid to remain at the President's side. Rufus had not promoted him. Doing so would have made a public statement about an incident and a situation he was refusing to face. She watched the tension in his shoulders, the exhausted, defeated steps that were so, so far from Rufus Shinra. Her heart bled for him as only a Turk's heart could.
He stopped abruptly with a sharp intake of breath, fixing his gaze on one of the four water fountains gracing the plate. Midgar had no greenery, and certainly no parks, but the capital did feature many great architectural wonders, and more than its' fair share of unimpressive steel and concrete monuments.
"Sir?"
She peered sideways at him in concern.
"Wutai has one of these," he said quietly. "Much grander, of course. It stands testament to the Kisaragi line."
For an instant rookie-Elena wanted to babble history at him; the things she had read and the opinions she had formed, her own trip to Wutai with all its surreal experiences and the impressions it had made on her. But she knew Rufus better now. And she had aged a great deal in a short amount of time.
"Have you seen it, Sir?"
She noted with shock that his jaw was set. In the pale illumination of the surrounding streetlights his eyes glistened. His voice was choked.
"I… have."
"…Rufus." She spoke softly. "Rufus, please lets go home."
He shook his head and bit his lip, drawing blood. She reached for his arm and grasped it tightly, but did not dare attempt to draw him away. They stood there unmoving, Elena stunned rigid by what would have been, in daylight, an outrageously public display of emotion. Rufus shuddered.
"Tseng-" and the name to her was a stab of pain, a grief completely unresolved, "I can't… without him. Elena. I am lost."
He looked at her desperately, tears sliding down his cheeks. A very young man, she realised suddenly, in more pain than he could bear. It was Tseng's training she called upon now, forcing aside her own emotions and summoning a peace and a strength the former leader of the Turks had taught her to find within herself. She gripped the President's hand firmly.
"We are going to your apartment now."