About Time

Or

Three Laws for the Luckless in Love

The unexamined life is not worth living.

Or so I've been told. I have better things to do than sit and think about every action I've ever taken and what it really means. All of that psycho-emotional crap just goes right over my head anyway. I've always been better with the concrete and factual.

But I have been known to waver in my opinions and convictions. And it can't hurt to try, right? Maybe introspection will make me a better person somehow, or improve my ability to coexist with the rest of the world.

Not likely, but it's one a.m. and I can't sleep. I've got nothing better to do than sift through my mental memory box.

There's no easy way for me to admit this especially to myself. Let's say this for starters: I fall in love easily. I think a little anecdotal evidence is in order. When I was a senior in high school, my friends asked me what I looked for in guys, fully intending to set me up. I told them I appreciated the little things, like someone who would hold the door. Juno jokingly bet me twenty gil that I'd probably try to get the number of the next guy who held the door for me. By three o'clock that afternoon, I owed her that twenty.

Well, that was one little personality conflict that stayed with me well into my career. And I must have been some kind of sadist, because I only went for the ones who were sure to break my heart. I hated that part of me, so I tried to eliminate it. By the time I joined Shinra, I thought that I had finally toned things down a little. That is, until I joined the Turks. Upon meeting my boss, months of work disintegrated in an instant. And while no living, breathing, straight female could tell me it was a bad choice, it certainly wasn't a good one.

The Law of Unification

Love and admiration, though often very different, are the same in one respect: they both make us careless because we care too much.

I said that I'd get over it, didn't I? Well, I tried, but it never really worked. Just when I was finally ready to believe that he was a cold, impassionate, distant, and stubborn jerk, he'd go and ruin it by doing the sweetest damn thing anyone had ever done for me. Granted, that isn't too hard, since I live and work with people who are trained to kill rather than be nice, but it still meant the world to me. I'm still not entirely sure what all of it meant to him. Maybe it meant he had some affirmation of his own self-worth. Maybe it meant that he wouldn't lose one of his few human connections. Whatever it meant to him, it was enough to get him to want me around. It wasn't exactly what I had wanted, but it was close enough.

I was close enough. To him.

I'm sure people on the outside have a lot of fun watching the fireworks. That's fine with me. I just don't want them trying to help. In my experience, that only results in disaster. The first and last time someone was dumb enough to do so, the doing was, of course, Reno's. He decided it would be fun to convince Tseng that it was time for my loyalty test, purely to make him sit down and actually see me, Elena the person, rather than Elena the fellow employee. The outcome of that one? I was so excited at the thought that he might actually have been displaying some interest that I didn't notice Sephiroth until it was too late.

I couldn't believe how careless and stupid I had been. I was supposed to be a professional, and I had managed to be one until that point, my motor-mouth aside. Professionals don't let crazed silver haired men nearly kill their boss. And I think the worst part is that Tseng knew my lack of attentiveness couldn't be attributed to a simple mistake. It's a close call, since I've done some pretty stupid things, but I think that was probably one of the most humiliating moments of my life.

The Law of Gravity

The density of one person with relation to another is directly proportional to the attraction between them.

Things were a little awkward after that. Okay, let's be honest. Things were really awkward. I thought he had been taking a bet or something, or that it was just a momentary fling. Meanwhile, my cover of professional admiration was totally blown. I was glad that the president nearly worked us to death during the next few months. When I was working, my mind was, despite what anyone may tell you, on the job and nowhere else. Any other time, I was too tired to think about anything more complicated than putting one foot in front of the other, and thus too tired to dream.

So the matter eventually faded, and I was left with the emptiness of a job that was going nowhere and a love life headed in the same direction. I tried dating outside the company (if you can call five people a company), really I did, but the possibilities were severely limited by my ties with what was often viewed as the most devious shadow government of all time. And by limited, I mean I could pretty much only be with men who had a startlingly low moral threshold or sought nothing more than the thrill of sleeping with someone who was supposedly one of the deadliest people on the planet. Both types were sick to the core, and fortunately, it only took one mistake for me to notice. But that's another story for another time.

What about the man I had been trying to get over? The man I had been trying to—dare I say it—replace all that time? Did he wake up and smell the mimett greens?

Hell no.

Things went on as usual, though Reno and Rude helped me get sweet revenge on my twisted ex. The president just kept piling on work (by now, most of it was related to rebuilding things, again, because some silver haired trio just had to find their mother). And Tseng? He asked the same question at the same time as he always had, since the day I got promoted.

Eight at night: "What are you doing tonight?"

That question only meant overtime. And although overtime meant some extra gil in my paycheck, I wasn't exactly thrilled about it. After all, while I was trying to finish some menial secretarial work, Reno and Rude would probably be in the next room watching the Kalm Crusaders lose yet another game of baseball, and even the president couldn't rub it in their faces the way I could. I tired of work easily, but forced myself to do it, thinking that it would somehow curry me some favor with Tseng.

I kind of disgust myself sometimes.

The Law of Unintended Consequences

For each and every action, there is a complete set of unexpected outcomes.

One night, I resolved to tell my boss where he could stick it, or something of the sort. It really hadn't been a good week; between political struggles, terrorists, and criminals, I had little patience for something Tseng, or anyone else I worked with for that matter, was perfectly capable of doing himself. Not to mention that I hadn't eaten all day. Angry and running on an empty stomach, I was unbearably close to going homicidal.

But more than that, I was tired of being ignored. I had tried subtlety. I had tried the outrageous. I had tried to be just a friend. I had tried to seduce him (albeit drunkenly). I had failed miserably.

Each. And every. Gods. Damned. Time.

I had put myself through an emotional hell for that man, and he hadn't even had the courtesy to notice. I was convinced, yet again, that he was a cold, impassionate, distant, and stubborn jerk. And this time, unlike every other time before, nothing short of a miracle could change my mind.

I didn't know if I could face him without putting myself through more mental anguish or getting unreasonably angry. Even so, I walked into his office at eight at night:

"What are you doing tonight?"

I wanted to glare at him defiantly, throw my shoulders back and say, "Sir, with all due respect, this is officially the last call. I'm cutting you off. After tonight, I'm cutting you loose. This is your last chance to offer a response that doesn't include overtime. Fail to appease me and you will forfeit all claims that have been offered to you regarding my beautiful self."

What I actually said was "nothing."

I guess it's true that old habits die hard.

There was a long silence. A small and completely unexpected smile crept onto Tseng's face. He folded his hands in front of his chin to hide it, but I know I saw it. He probably knew as well, judging by the way the smile grew.

I had never seen him like this. And as irrational as it was, I was nervous-bordering-on-frightened by his behavior. I thought maybe he had finally snapped under the pressure that naturally occurs when one lives with one's psychotic coworkers, plus one sadistic boss.

I was so nervous, in fact, that when he stood and walked around from behind his desk, I took a small step backwards.

"I'm going out for a late dinner. Care to join me?"

I stood, dumbfounded, for all of two seconds. A thousand responses ran through my mind in that time, all muddled together.

Yes.

Of course.

Where to?

Are you driving or should I?

I'd love to.

But a different response sprang to my lips, unbidden and unplanned, as I linked my arm in his, no longer afraid that he would choose now to go postal. It's probably the most cliché, idiotic thing I've ever said. Well, one of the most cliché and idiotic things I've ever said. But it seemed right, and I'm smart enough to realize that those kinds of moments are rare.

"It's about time."

Author's Notes. This was my first attempt at a monologue, and my few years in Oral Interpretation helped a lot. I would have been lost without those hours of practice and listening to repetitive drama pieces (and performing a couple of my own). I wanted to give Elena a sort of snarky, self-deprecating voice, and hopefully I've accomplished that at least. Anyway, feedback is like crack to me, and I strongly urge you to help me get my fix.