Author's Note:

… This takes place in the AC(C) timeline – I figured I'd write something concerning Tseng and Elena's moments before the scene in AC(C) where they're up in the Northern Crater and gunshots are heard. I always wondered what they could have talked about before the gunshots were fired and everything went crazy from there. They didn't get much screen time, for me, and they're one of the most well-known Turks too, so I figured why not give them more credit. 3

Now Playing: "You" – Switchfoot. 3 I was listening to this yesterday and I realized how it fit the mood of this story.

Disclaimer:

I do not own Final Fantasy VII, or its franchise, in any way possible. All characters and mentioned names belong to Square Enix.

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Chapter 1:

~The Walk~

… This was the final frontier for them – at least, that's what Elena thought to herself.

She and Tseng were about to cross the bridge where there were rough, mini-cyclones that either threw them back, or off it, and the howls emanating from below seemed to be the voice of the planet itself. Elena pulled Tseng back, just in time before one of the small torpedoes could throw him off-balance … before she would lose him. Tseng quickly turned, quietly cleared his throat and held onto Elena, stepping back. Elena calmed him down, despite his natural state to be so. After counting quietly together, to time their run through the bridge, they reached the other end taking a deep breath of relief. Then onwards they went, through the terrain, searching for the hotspot they were asked to investigate.

Tseng wanted to keep her close by. He had a feeling in his gut that if this mission failed, he would never Elena again. Tseng had always appreciated Elena – even by just her presence, the way she carried herself, or the way she conversed with people. He even very much appreciated the way she dressed. He'd admitted to thinking of fellow female Turks the way Reno did, though he never exerted the same persona as the redhead. Elena was haughty, sometimes talked too much, but he didn't mind. He liked how she was very focused with her work, like now: she'd risk having a sprained wrist due to a mission concerning a drug lord, just to get this done.

Then his job crossed his mind. How long had he been in the Turks? … He couldn't count the years anymore. Nevertheless, he could clearly remember the days when Elena, still dressed up in pigtails and her school uniform, would drop by the Shinra building and walk around while waiting for her sister Revolver to come out from her work. Everyday, he would see her in the lobby, fidgeting with her cellphone and sometimes talking to friends and laughing along, or texting and giggling to herself. Those days, he still had shorter hair and had his hair in a ponytail – he chuckled at himself for still remembering every detail. Now, however, they were much older, much more obliged to do as the company would ask them to do because they were much more experienced. That didn't mean he wasn't afraid of anything anymore … he frowned at the thought of losing Elena. She was a good partner, in terms of getting the job done. But—

"Tseng…"

"Yes?"

"… Do you think we'll be able to make it back?"

… Tseng stopped in his tracks, from following Elena from behind. He listened to the faint wind, now far behind them, and slipped his hands in his pockets.

"I cannot assure that we will …" he replied. He had to be honest to her. He always was. "… You know what the reports say. Territorial beasts in our midst… clones… copies of Sephiroth himself. If they have his blood in them then that means we might die with just one strike."

Elena turned and approached him. "You're confident we'll die today? Right here?"

Tseng cleared his throat as she stepped in closer. "… It's a strong possibility."

Elena frowned. "You seem so sure, that's what."

"I'm only basing my hypotheses on the reports we've been handed." Tseng looked away from her, unable to look at her straight in the eye. He had thoughts about losing her – he knew somewhere along the way he would, but how … he didn't want to ponder on it. He resumed walking, passing by her, and Elena caught his arm just as he was about to walk far off. Tseng darted his eyes to her hand. "… Elena…"

"We'll make it out of here alive. And then Rufus will give us a big pay, and then we'll go out and have fun like we used to, with Reno and Rude." The Turk gave the director a smile, an encouraging one, one that tried to lift his spirits up. "And then we're going to help out Midgar, and be heroes, for once…"

Tseng snorted quietly at the remark, and half-smiled. He shook his head.

"What?" Elena said with a pout. "Not a good idea?"

He turned to face her and reached up to her cheek. In a second's time, Elena blushed at the contact, but didn't bat his hand away or yell at him. Instead, she softened to his touch, leaned into his hand. "Perfect idea. Makes you very much different from Revolver."

"Don't even start—"

"I was only kidding." The director grinned, and lowered his hand from her skin. He slicked his hair back and flipped his tresses over his shoulder. "I've learned not to mess with you, most especially. Revolver wouldn't be too happy with comparison either …"

Elena blinked. Then she grinned. She poked his side for every word she said: "… There's - something - you're - not - telling - me."

"There's nothing to tell." Tseng said, and cleared his throat.

"Oh? I say you're hiding certain things from me." Elena circled around him with a smirk on her face, her voice in a melodious tone. "Like, say… that you've always thought I'm better than my sister, in truth?"

"Who told you that?"

"Oh. Well, no one. Just a red bird." Elena laughed.

Tseng flushed. Why, of course. Who else, but Reno? Reno was always in on the gossip with his colleagues, regardless of the rank. And clearly Elena's source was him, and Tseng realized what Elena was talking about was that one night when he and the president, Reno, Rude, and a couple of the other male Turks went for a drink. Then men's talk ensued, and all of them – tipsy or not – started confessing what they thought of this certain lady Turk, and that certain lady Turk. Tseng was tempted to rub his face off of the scowl he was about to give her – he wanted to be canon, as everyone had thought him to be: serious, unmoving, refined … controlled.

Elena smirked wide as she only crossed her arms and walked past him, going on forward to their meant destination. Tseng, on the other hand, tried to muster the words to tell her what he really meant when he told Reno that, that night. He kept stuttering, to which Elena only chuckled, the volume of her amusement growing louder everytime he tried.

"You must have misinterpreted what Reno said," Tseng remarked, after he took a deep breath and managed to get his words right. "It's… not what you think.

She laughed loud, her voice bouncing off the walls. Elena wasn't really making fun of him – she was only joyful that Tseng was showing his humanity.

"So you still think Revolver's better than me then?" The Turk asked with a pretending scowl. She wanted to get the answers right from Tseng. "… Hunh. Odd you would still think that way, then. My sister's not around anymore."

Tseng looked away and frowned. He was cornered. He didn't want to admit what he really thought of her, afraid that others would look at him differently. He was afraid that if his guard would be down, people would start circling around him like vultures and diving down and pecked until they got the answers from him. Not just about women – but other things: like the women he's dated before, if he's ever gone wild with drinking… until they got to more serious things like, what did he think of the company? Or of the other employees and heads of the departments. Like what Elena was doing. Only, much worse maybe. Reno was enough, so was Rude, and the President just as well. Even Elena, too. They were the ones who knew him the best, and if he'd tell them what they thought they wouldn't speak of it to others. But other people – he didn't want to involve himself so much, didn't want to put his guard down around them. He treasured his privacy.

But could he even think of his privacy regarding matters of Elena now? She wanted to know what he really thought of her, though crude as she may have seemed with her asking.

Elena restrained a smile, and locked eyes with him. He couldn't return the gaze. "Well?" she asked with a grin.

… Tseng smiled. "Yes…" he started, "… in all honesty you are much better than your sister."

He's serious, she thought, blinking her eyes. "… I see." She walked up to him. "Well then… In what aspects?" Elena asked, raising a brow as she stood at a distance.

Tseng pondered quietly. "Well… for starters… you're haughty…"

"How does that make me better than her?" Elena laughed.

"The fact that you are very meticulous with things and you care about everything and everyone, that makes a difference. Revolver was… static, most days." Tseng shook his head. "It wasn't such a nice sight, sometimes. You know how to have fun, but value your work at the same time. She was an ace at being a workaholic. She'd take things as they came … you're detailed. You'd stand up to things if you know you couldn't do them or if it didn't feel right."

"You're talking about work ethics right there," Elena said. "You're avoiding the main theme of my interrogation!"

"I-I'm not—" Tseng said. When Elena noticed the slight change in his voice, as if he'd broken a vocal chord, she chuckled. Then Tseng cleared his throat and looked at her again. "I'm not."

Elena shook her head, sitting on a nearby rock. "You know… you amuse me."

Tseng's brow raised.

"You do. Mainly because… I'm starting to see your human side. I mean, not that you aren't human, but most days you're more like a manufactured Shinra robot than you are a part of the earth." Elena smiled. "… I can see through you."

"I'm not that transparent," Tseng noted. He turned his back to her.

The howling of the winds from behind them grew louder for a minute, and their eyes darted to the origin of the sound. They could see the skies become darker. Good thing Elena and Tseng were in a rather safe spot, sheltered enough, where the mini-cyclones couldn't hit them. It was getting cold too. Despite wearing her coat, Elena hugged herself, shivering with the cold. Tseng neared her and slipped out of his pocket a 3-paged report memorandum he had received from Rufus earlier.

"Hand me the memo you were given as well," he asked.

Elena blinked and without a word slipped hers out of her pocket as well. "What are you going to do with it?"

Then Tseng tore a page of his own up into pieces, and a page from Elena's as well, and took out his lighter and burned them. "Small campfire," he noted. "I hope this works."

Elena's brow raised at the sight. It wasn't enough to keep them warm, but it was worth a try. She slipped her arse off of the stone she was sitting on and sat next to him, helping to tear off pieces from pages but careful to save some to feed the flame, in case they were going to stay here until the winds slowed down. Both were silent, together, as they both tried to keep warm.

"… I'm not that transparent," Tseng repeated, "… because I've learned not to be."

Elena looked at him. She understood what he meant, however.

"It comes with the job … it is … or has become a work ethic, I suppose. That you learn not to reveal so much of yourself." Tseng cupped his hands and tried to keep the small flame alive. "… Being a Turk is … to be honest, full of cons. The only pro you get from it is a big pay. That's why most of the Turks didn't really have much of good pasts …" He blew the flame gently, to let it grow stronger for just a little bit. "Of course, the cons, as you know… or at least usually… it is guilt itself."

Elena thought of everyone else in the business. One by one, they raced through her mind.

"… Reno wasn't born privileged. He'd had it hard, growing up. He's been beaten up and beaten up boys who've tried to rob him whenever he'd make an earning, which would be selling newspapers in the street or cleaning shoes … the whole deal. He's a stick of dynamite, a spitfire, growing up. Then Veld found him years later, half-dead in an alleyway." Tseng said. "Then there's Rude. Born rich, but he wanted to move out because his parents always fought, then separated. Father was accused of murder, his mother turned into an alcoholic, his sister being the only one to take care of things. So he thought joining the company and earning big would help his mother and sister change, stay alive…"

Elena blinked, and stared into the flame. A thousand thoughts sped through her. All that Tseng said made her think about being a Turk, about how she performed with her job. "… I never knew that."

"Almost all the Turks are born into poverty. Except, of course, most of the ladies. Shotgun, Knives … and as always, if any of the poverty-born joined the company, the reason would be because they want to support their family, or themselves, or make up for the sorry lives they've led before. I do not blame them for that, not once… in fact I am happy that they get the best of things out of working hard, out of the salary they are given. It shows they really do deserve a second chance."

"Weren't you born above the plate too?"

… Tseng frowned. Always, it was like this – that people would say he was rich, he could afford anything, why did he join the Turks in the first place? He nodded at Elena's question, and just as she spoke, asking why he joined the Turks, he answered immediately with his voice overpowering hers but calmly.

"My case was different. My father was a Shinra employee, and I would be at the firing ranges everytime. I met Rufus that time; he was a young boy then."

Elena tried to imagine what Rufus could have been like before, and more so the situation of how they probably met that day.

Tseng nodded. "… People told me I could do for a Turk, I was poised enough to be controlled and reserved and usually, they only based that because of my educational background. My father would usually be proud of how his son was such an achiever, but in reality… I didn't feel complete at all. One's educational attainment does not conclude how they perform in a real-life, life and death situation…" The director's eyes softened. " … It's a whole different world out there when you have guns in your hands and a phone to keep at your side. Very different from assessing papers and recruiting possible SOLDIER cadets."

Elena would know. She'd been a part of the Turks long enough to know the difference between the two. "I'd rather do paperwork, sometimes, to be honest," she remarked. "… I feel really bad for doing wipeouts sometimes. I …" She frowned. " … I can't say life was difficult for me before. I don't have a source for being disappointed with my life, I think. And … you do know how I grew up, so I don't think I can explain anymore."

"Regardless of your background… you are a refined lady, Elena." Tseng smiled, as he looked into the flame. "You may be haughty, but you do know where you stand. I'm envious of you … you grew up in a calm, happy household. But now you know where Reno gets his energy, hm?" Tseng chuckled. "Or at least those who are asked to do missions a lot. Or all of us, mainly. All those experiences before … that's where they draw their bloodlust from."

"What about you?" Elena asked. "You sound like you weren't happy growing up … where do you get the strength to keep going?"

… Tseng paused for a moment, pondering on the question. He kept quiet and sat back on the ground, tucked his legs underneath him in a cross-legged fashion.