Disclaimer: Not mine.
Mystic: Holy crap. Has it been a year since I started this story arc? Just so no one gets totally lost or anything, go ahead and read the Blame the Ninja chapter in my Reno/Tifa fic AiL, then go read the oneshot Betrayal of the Heart, and then (finally!) read the Unlucky Seven chapter in AiL. That sums everything up pretty darn well. This should close the circle. Maybe. Depends if the angst train rolls around again. ;) Remember, this isn't canon with AC or DoC, just the original game.
Tifa knew that her final month would be filled with exciting and interesting events. She figured that the majority would pertain to, oh, herself perhaps? All those fun little symptoms that reveal impending birth, right? Maybe her feet would start to swell some more, or maybe her back would start to cramp because of those evil things called contractions. Then she'd torture Reno by squeezing his hand too tight and dropping a few choice words. She rarely spoke them, and the look on his face would be a pure picture moment.
The Spirit Guardians decided to give her a different sort of excitement. Oh, it was interesting; she couldn't deny them that. They planned and toyed with these recent events, just enough to cause scandal in not one, but two countries. Some might be willing to place the blame on Shiva, that cold seductress who could freeze a man's heart with one snap of her fingers. Reno pointed his fingers at her (among other things), but Tifa wondered if Leviathan didn't have a fin in this.
She sat back and took a sip of her sparkling cider. Her head throbbed with the beginnings of a migraine, and she wished for a pain relief tablet. It wouldn't come, so she chose to suffer.
Edge City Hall had been decorated for an evening of celebration; balloons hovered by the ceiling, banners by the windows and stage, and a few cans of silly string passed between the onlookers. The night was geared toward Reeve Tuesti and his recent work with the housing developments. He designed and also assisted in the building of several homes for low-income citizens. People saw him working until the late hours of the night and thought that he was that much dedicated to their beloved city. They were wrong, of course. The work distracted him from an unrequited lover in Wutai.
He worked so he could forget.
The night started without interruption, with good food and expensive wine. Reno sat in the front near all the "uppities" as he called them, his electro-mag rod in easy reach, and Tifa sat beside him. The other Turks were present, naturally; Tseng and Rude and sat on the opposite end of Rufus, while Elena sat near Reeve himself, though she didn't desire to be anywhere near him. Her face was downturned, staring only at her plate and utensils, and her eyes remained in a narrowed glare. Tension could be cut with knife, then she considered the knife somewhere deep in the architect's behind. That'd be pleasant.
Rufus stood first, and raised his glass in a toast, ignoring the few drops of wine that spilled on the tablecloth. "Mr. Tuesti," he began, "you have been a valuable member of my organization for several years. Many of those --"
He never finished his sentence. All discussion pertaining to Reeve's accomplishments and achievements halted at the moment of door slams and heavy boots. Both sounds resonated off the high ceiling and wide walls. They came abrupt and without any warning. Gasps of surprise came from the audience, paired with wide eyes and the automatic grip of hidden weapons. Turks stood in immediate defense.
Nobody was prepared for the arrival of Wutai's Wu Sheng.
Staniv lead the warriors into the hall; no blades were drawn, but that didn't deter Reno from firing up his own. "Reeve Tuesti!" Staniv's voice rang clear and heavily accented. "I have a warrant for your arrest."
More gasps among the guests. Reeve stood, unafraid, his back straight and eyes dark. The Turks swarmed around him as they were trained to do, but he waved them back. Maybe he suspected something amiss, or maybe he was willing to give Staniv the benefit of the doubt. Mistakes were often made when it came to matters such as these (and Reeve knew all about mistakes recently), and perhaps this would blow over without incident. And without the press getting involved. (Bahamut knew he didn't need any more poor publicity.)
"What do you mean?" he asked, voice low and unwavering. "Name the charges."
Staniv unrolled a piece of parchment paper, and all eyes saw the official seal of the Kisaragi Clan. "You've committed an atrocity against the country of Wutai. You dishonored our noble Empress --" Reeve's eyes widened, while the warriors continued their march. "-- You created a stain upon her name!"
"Back off, Staniv!" There was a hiss in the air as a ninja star spiraled across the room, slicing through the warrant with frightening accuracy. Heads turned and mouths dropped. The wielder held another star, prepared to fight and prepared to stand her ground. "You won't touch him!"
Reeve swallowed, thinking that now was not the time to voice an opinion or question. No one dared. The only sound was Tifa's chair as it slid away from the honor's table; she thought it best to quietly disappear.
Yuffie Kisaragi, Empress of Wutai and Guardian of Leviathan, strolled forward. She no longer carried the bounce of a bubbly teenager. No longer did she create whispers and stares from her scant attire. She was queen and head of her land; her clothing was that of a priestess, covered in teals and blues that matched Leviathan's scales. Her father's crest hung upon her neck.
Staniv did not obey. "My lady, this man --"
"I said back off!" Another hiss, and Staniv narrowly dodged a star to his head; the weapon imbedded itself on the back wall. "How dare you attempt to arrest a foreigner without my permission! He's not even in our country!" She walked toward them as she spoke, or rather, yelled.
"With all due respect, he was inside --"
"SHUSH!" A deep breath was not enough to calm her. "You say one more word, and they'll never find your body. And I can make that happen 'cuz I am your queen!"
Movement among the crowd began slowly at first; a chair here, a cough there. Some patrons left the building without completing their meal. Squealing tires burned marks into the road as individuals exited the area. Yuffie ignored those few sounds, but she didn't ignore the sight of her guardsmen dropping to the floor in a kneeled bow as she neared them. She paused at Staniv. "Stand up, Staniv."
He did so, and the action earned him a slap to the face. His cheek turned red from her open palm. "Ah!" he grunted. Reeve flinched as well; he'd been a recipient of Yuffie's slaps before. And those stung.
"Dumbass," Yuffie muttered. "Show me the warrant."
Rufus threw down his napkin and pushed back his chair with a hard shove. "What is the meaning of this? How dare you to interrupt my proceedings!"
"Hey, don't blame me," she scoffed, looking down at the paper. "It's Staniv's fault." She chuckled at the large slice through its center. "Dammit! You're charging him with second degree treason?!"
"Holy shit!" Reno glanced over to an equally stunned Reeve. "Bossman, what the hell did you do?"
Elena frowned, her eyebrows drawn together. "I have one guess." Reeve shot her a pointed glare, and she didn't say anything further.
"Treason, Staniv? Treason?!" Yuffie rolled the paper into a tube and came close to whacking Staniv on his pathetic head. Her hand poised mid-air, but she paused and instead pressed a palm to her forehead. "Damn, I'm getting sick again. Just go on with whatever you're doing. I won't stop you."
xxx
They didn't continue, despite Yuffie's insistence. She turned her back on the President, on her former boss in the blue suit, on the four Turks. She brushed past Tifa, who happened to waddle back inside at a more calming moment. The Wu Sheng followed without hesitation or protest; Staniv remained silent for fear of another physical strike. His family pledged utmost allegiance to the Kisaragi name, and with Yuffie ruling in her father's stead, her word was his law.
Godo Kisaragi remained alive, though for how long remained uncertain. Nurses kept him comfortable with various pain medications and healing materia. None of which could cure him, only delay the inevitable. He didn't argue over his daughter's return; in fact, he welcomed her back with open arms and quickly handed over the throne. With his health deteriorating by the millisecond, he chose not to question why he heard her crying in her room at night, or why her fingers often grazed her stomach. No, Godo decided not to ask.
He had heard that Vincent Valentine ended the betrothal, but he still voiced no query as for the exact reason. All he knew, all he suspected, was that it possibly involved Mr. Tuesti. As to how Mr. Tuesti came between them, he was unsure. When Yuffie first returned to Wutai, she went straight to their massive library to search for ancient laws and potential punishments. Again, there was no questions, but Staniv noticed something strange. Within a two month time period, he saw the always smiling shinobi turn down-trodden and cold. Her eyes lost their sheen, and her mouth remained straight with lack of smile.
She said that her country needed a "True Protector". Perhaps she wasn't talking about herself.
Staniv stood firm as he listened to his empress chastise and nag him for his "stupid stupid stupid decision!". They were outside now, in cool night air, and surrounded by stars. With the attempted arrest far behind them (a few hours ago at most), all parties were left with a certain amount of dread and true suspicion.
"Permission to speak, Lady Kisaragi."
She cocked her hips to the side. "Yeah, do tell."
"You can't hide this much longer from him." Staniv's expression dropped into a frown. "What he did was a crime, my lady. Yes, it is a scandal, and it will bring you to ruin!"
"It's my fault, too!" she protested, waving her arms. "You can't place all the blame on him and charge him with treason! What happened, happened, and I'll deal with it on my own; Reeve's in the public eye enough!"
Staniv sighed. "Why is it the nature of women to protect everyone?"
"And why is it in your nature to blame everybody?" She paused for a moment, then, "Just go away, Staniv. Get out of my sight!"
He shook his head, choosing defiance. "My lady, I can't leave you here."
"Did I stutter? I said GO!"
Reeve saw him leave; he witnessed the argument and chose not to interfere. A part of him wanted to grab Yuffie by her shoulders and demand a clear answer, but another more silent side forced him to stay hidden behind the adjacent building. Thoughts and feelings swarmed inside his head, the majority a cause for headaches. He remembered her words to him two months earlier.
"Ignore what you see; ignore what you hear. It's better that way."
His eyes squeezed shut. Mere seconds passed as those thoughts and emotions spiraled out of control. There was the silent ride home from the hospital, complete with thick tension that only a buster sword could slice in pieces. Then the argument they shared. She blamed him for her break-up, with his dark eyes, and dark goatee, and ability to listen without judgement. He blamed her for his break-up, what with her short-shorts, her smile, and ability to laugh at his lame jokes. (Gawds, they were downright groan-worthy.) Then Yuffie broke down.
She didn't sob all girly and demurely like Tifa sometimes did; oh no, Yuffie broke down. Tears dripped on Reeve's tiled floor, followed by sweat and snot because a Yuffie-cry was a full mental and physical exertion. She tried to speak, but her words caught in her throat, and she couldn't even muster the ability to call Reeve a bastard. Instead, small hands clutched at his shirt, and the tear-stained eyes buried themselves into his chest.
Like any good-hearted man, Reeve hated to see a woman cry. The sight of it brought out his natural instinct to protect and soothe. She clutched at his shirt and chest, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. His hands smoothed up her back in a vain attempt to comfort her, but the action only tugged on his heart even more. That particular organ clenched into this throat and beat in his ribs. He didn't stop, and he held her even tighter.
As that memory faded, another surfaced. Reeve kept his eyes shut as he leaned against the cool bricks, his body suddenly wearing down by the weight of guilt, shame, and the sex that accompanied it. What was at first an innocent and comforting embrace in his living room became a clumsy, sloppy kiss on his couch. Breaths were rabid and frequent, and neither put a halt to the actions. He remembered -- too clearly -- leading her lithe frame to his bedroom where the clumsy kiss turned into a too-rough embrace on his bed. The sheets tangled around limbs, and sweat dripped from naked skin.
The memory didn't go away, even when Reeve opened his eyes to stare at the ground. He sat down now, his hands resting on his knees. Her skin had been smooth beneath his calloused palms, and her breasts firm. Her legs had hooked around his own to keep them together, and his kisses grew deeper.
He held her afterwards, but he had a hunch that she would bolt the minute he relaxed into sleep. Try as he might, slumber took its hold on him and when he finally woke, all that remained was the lingering scent of her shampoo.
What he needed now was a good strong drink.
xxx
She told him to ignore everything, but she knew by the way he looked at her earlier that he hadn't listened.
Yuffie didn't quite know where to place the blame. Oh sure, she could put it on Vincent, for being a cold and unromantic man. (Sex? What was that again? Vinnie was never horny.) He was the type to stare off into the distance for no apparent reason, to leave in the middle of the night just to think and contemplate the world, and overall continue his existance because everybody expected it from him. Maybe that's why he agreed to be her lover (kinda) and future husband in the first place; it was expected of him. Everyone thought they would -- and should -- be together. It helped that Yuffie always had that little school-girl crush on him. The man was mysterious and quiet, and the materia thief was his exact opposite.
Opposites were supposed to attract, not tear asunder.
Maybe the blame could be placed on Reeve. Possibly because he would listen when Vincent refused to, or joke with her when Vincent would only sigh. Reeve's occasional e-mails always brought a smile to her face, and he always ordered the exact same damn thing whenever he treated her for coffee at the local deli. Elena never seemed to mind, since that sort of friendly conversation was normal at headquarters.
The one person Yuffie had yet to blame was herself. Her obligation was to Vincent, but she found that she grew closer to Reeve. He didn't stare off into the distance, and he never left in the middle of the night. Reeve laughed and pulled pranks. He wasn't her opposite.
Perhaps she should have deleted his e-mails and declined the coffee dates (oh, bad choice of words right there). Perhaps she should have instead tried harder with Vincent. Or maybe she wasn't ready to be a wife to anyone. At all. Ever.
Especially not now.
She wiped away a few tears. A breeze wrapped itself around her shoulders, and she shivered.
Another tear.
"You know I hate that, Yuffie." She turned at the baritone voice, but she didn't dare look. Reeve still sat against the brick building, his eyes tired and red. "Why was I almost charged with treason in the second degree?"
She looked, and her stomach lurched into her throat. "Ignore, Reeve," she answered.
"The press will talk," he said.
"Staniv just overreacted. He's a douche."
"Tell me what the warrant said."
Yuffie shook her head. "No."
"Dammit, Yuffie!" He stood harshly, footsteps thundering on the ground. "Empress or not, you will not keep things from me!"
"You can't make me talk!"
Reeve was before her now, drawn to his full height, and he stared at her with a darkened gaze. "Then I'll make Staniv talk."
"No!" She clutched at his arm in sheer desperation. "He'll try to arrest you again!"
"Then talk, Yuffie!"
She didn't let go, but she did hesitate. Another sob escaped, and her fingers tightened on his sleeve. "I'm pregnant," she finally said.
"What?" His voice was flat, with little emotion. He withdrew his arm.
"Don't get all dumbass-y on me," she accused, pointing a finger to his chest. "You knew it could happen."
"The baby ..."
"You know it's yours, Reeve. Vincent and I didn't screw that often; besides, he's completely sterile."
Reeve blinked, processing the information, then he gripped Yuffie by the shoulders, softly. "Is this why you left Edge?" he asked, voice low and hesitant. "Because you were pregnant?"
She nodded, not looking at him. "That's a crime in my country; being knocked up outside of marriage."
"So, Staniv --"
"He wanted me to name the father, so to 'return my honor'." Yuffie raised her head so their eyes met. "I refused. I knew he wouldn't just question you, he'd torture. You would be locked away in some dank cell, and I'd never see or hear from you again." She suddenly gripped his wrists. "I couldn't let that happen to you!
"I don't know how Staniv figured it out, but he did, and I can only do so much to protect you! That's why I left! Now please, just ignore what you heard!"
He shook his head. "You can't do this by yourself! Let me be there!"
"How?!"
Reeve didn't have an answer, so he only drew her into his arms and listened to her frightened, snotty, loud sobs. Mental strength had long left her, and she collapsed into him, nearly pushing him backward. "Does your father know?" he asked.
"No," she whispered.
"Just the Wu Sheng?"
"Yeah."
He leaned back so to stroke her cheek with his palm. "Don't you trust me, Yuffie?"
"Reeve!"
"Don't keep this child away from me, Yuffie." He sniffled, an obvious sign that he was holding back tears. "Please. Don't push me away."
Footsteps rounded the corner, and Reeve saw the Wu Sheng, their blades shining in the moonlight. His position didn't look innocent, not with his hand on Yuffie's face, and his other by her waist. Anybody would've mistaken the pair for passing lovers, which in hindsight, was almost what they were.
"We only wish to question you, Mr. Tuesti," stated Staniv. "Nothing more."
"Liar!" Yuffie yelled, breaking free from Reeve's embrace. "I order you to --"
Reeve stopped her. "No, Yuffie; I'll be fine."
"They can't question you without my permission, and I'm not giving it."
"My lady," Staniv began, "Our law states that he must be brought in ..."
He never finished the sentence. A gunshot ripped through the air, its crack resonating through the nearby tree leaves. Out of instinct, Reeve sheltered the empress with his own body and pushed her to the ground, not realizing that the bullet soared through the opposite direction. Staniv dropped onto the grass.
Turks ran forward from the shadows, while the remaining Wu Sheng rushed to help their young queen. She sat up, a bit dazed, and expecting a bloodbath. "Wait, what just happened?"
"Staniv's been shot," Tseng stated, almost too plainly, even for him. He leaned down to the collapsed body, puzzled at the lack of blood. "I can't find the wound, but he's alive."
"Which one of you did this?" Reeve demanded an answer, his tone firm.
Reno threw up his hands in defense. "Don't look me. I don't do long-range weapons." Rude and Elena also gave negative responses, and all eyes glanced over to the blond gentleman in the coat who leaned against a nearby tree.
"It was one of our regular sharpshooters," Rufus said with a shrug. "I had a feeling Staniv wouldn't let the situation die without one less effort; he was always the stubborn one in previous attempts at peace. Your word may be the final say, Miss Kisaragi, but in Staniv's opinion, you are a mere woman and that negates his supposed obediance to your lineage."
She blinked. "Uh ... basic Gaian please?"
Rufus rolled his eyes. "Staniv is a sexist pig who won't listen to you because you're a chick."
"Oh, gotcha."
"Rufus, you didn't." Reeve swallowed, suspicious of the unnamed gunman.
Rufus simply smiled. "It wasn't me, Reeve; it was Reno's wife."
xxx
Tifa sat on the park bench, facing away from the tattered red cloak that hung lazily in the breeze. "They said Staniv would live." Her voice remained quiet.
"He was meant to," responded a husky tone.
"What was in the bullet?"
Vincent still didn't face his former comrade. "An experimental tranquilizer. It places the victim in a temporary catatonic state and warps his memory thanks to a fusion of manipulate materia." He sighed. "Rufus invented it."
"When I asked for your help, Vincent, I didn't expect physical violence."
"I didn't expect a lot of things."
"Reeve wouldn't do anything against Wutai, would he?" Tifa stared up at him.
So Tifa didn't know the full story. "You're not familiar with Wutaiin Law?"
She shook her head. "World History was a long time ago."
"Treason can involve many elements in Wutai," Vincent explained. "A threat of death against a member of the royal family is the main crime, along with an attempt to usurp the throne, but second-degree is usually reserved for female victims."
"How so?"
"Anything to go against their family honor and reputation. Rape, physical abuse, bastard children; take your pick."
"But Staniv can't possibly think that Reeve raped her. He'd never do such a thing."
Vincent shut his eyes. "Yuffie's consent doesn't matter in her situation. There is long-lasting evidence that they copulated and, because Reeve is a foreigner, all blame and accusations are on him."
Tifa knew now; her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in shock. She rubbed her stomach. "Yuffie's having his baby."
Vincent shrugged. "An archaic law, but it still stands."
"But she's the empress, surely her say trumps anything else."
"It can, if she wants it to."
Tifa grabbed his hand, a small act of friendly affection. "Vincent, I'm so sorry."
He didn't respond, but he didn't blame himself.
xxx
Mystic: Today's angst was inspired by The Moody Blues and their song, "Nights in White Satin."