Disclaimer: I do not own FFVII, the Turks, President Shinra, or Rufus Shinra. I do own this fic, though.
Author's Note:
Yes, I should be posting the next chapter in my fic, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone! Why does Rufus always wear white? It nagged me until I wrote this! Yay! So, please review and let me know what you think! Oh yes, and this was beta-ed by my good friend xXDancerintheDarkXx! YAY!
For Her, I Wear White
"Why does President Rufus Shinra wear all white?" I have heard this question many times before. A competent president knows everything that goes on in his office, so I've heard the whispers and the rumors. It seems everyone was dying to know of my secret obsession with white. And, yes, I did always wear white -no matter where I went, no matter what I did- I'd clad myself entirely in the finest, purest white money could buy. Heh, one might say tyranny never looked so elegant…many have told me I am a cross between intimidation and beauty in my white suit, but I care little for the opinion of lesser men and women. So long as they fear and obey me, I am satisfied enough.
To be honest, I've never given a reason for my "white suit fetish", as some of my Turks have called it. But, as President, I do not have to explain my ways to underlings and inferior beings; they are paid to work, not ogle my every fashion statement. Although, at least one of my Turks have asked to my face exactly why I come to work clad entirely in white. At the question, I merely smiled mysteriously and walked away, eyes alight with an emotion none could understand. If I am in the confessional here, I may as well confess openly that the answer would surprise many of those who work for and fear me. It is an answer steeped in my past…a past which I try to avoid, any chance I may.
You see, once upon a time, my parents divorced. I suppose I must go even further back for anyone to understand. Well, my father, who was the president before I, was not a kind or well liked man. To be blunt, the old fool used and abused any and all who worked for him -any who dared to love him. So when he fell in love with a young (and beautiful) intern at the Shin-Ra office…well, many placed bets on how long they thought the marital union would last. It lasted six-and-a-half years, during the first of which I was born.
During my childhood, I was left solely in the care of maids and my mother. Oh, my mother was a saint! Heh, most people would be amused (and surprised) to learn that a tyrannical monster like Rufus Shinra had the kindest, most gentile lady for a mother. She was a saint…a saint that would put the likes of your Aerith Gainsbourgh to shame. How I loved her. Of course, I never saw my father that much, but when I did we did not get along. He was cold, arrogant, and a heartless old man that nearly drove me wild with rage when he would shout at my mother. Needless to say, I despised him, and the feeling was, eventually, returned in full.
Near my seventh birthday, when I learnt from the streets (Of all places!) that my father had cheated on and was now demanding a divorce with my precious, beloved mother, I grew enraged. How dare he? How dare my superior, dictatorial father take away the one thing that mattered to me, that one thing that made me happy? It was not fair. I wouldn't learn until later that life is seldom fair, and rarely does it work out the way we all would like.
I went to my father that night. Drawing myself up to full height, I yelled at him, calling him a "stupid jerk who doesn't even know 'bout the good things he has, right here in how own home". Looking back on the incident, I realize two things: One, I should not have said those things on that night, and two: I struck a very real cord in my father.
To this day, I can still feel the slap of my father's hand, the bite of his words as he shouted back that I "Didn't know a damn thing" and to "shut up and be silent, or else". I never forgot his harsh treatment of mother and I, or his words that fateful night. He hurt my mother…hurt her deeply. While I had despised my father previously, it was in these moments that I learnt very real hate. Afterwards, I wanted to be with my beloved mother (who never had treated me poorly), but father realized I, being his only child and heir, would one day take his place as President of Shin-Ra industries. So, I was not allowed to go with my mother, forced instead to live with a man I despised.
Sadly, this was how my life continued. I slipped away to visit mother every chance I had, but it never felt like enough. Still, it was the progression of my life. Until that fateful day…nearly fifteen years ago, my mother…grew ill, becoming more serious over the years. Some reasoned she had always been frail and sickly, others speculated she was dying of a broken heart. I leaned towards the "broken heart" theory myself. Every day I watched my mother struggle to breathe, coughing weakly, it felt as though my own childish heart was breaking within my breast. Slowly, I was losing the most important thing in my life.
The end came on my 12th birthday. Yes, a hint of dark irony…you'd expect as much from me, President Rufus. It on the anniversary of my birth that she began to fade away to the Lifestream, me seated at her bedside, clutching at one of her bony hands, as though I had the strength to keep her from leaving. I felt so utterly useless as I watched my beloved mother; it was then I swore two things. One, I would never be useless again, and two, I would always blame both my father and the Lifestream for taking away the one person who truly loved me.
"Mama," I called, "Mama, you can't leave me!" I cried plaintively, as I massaged her hand with my own, trying to keep it warm. She was already growing cold…it caused my eyes to fill up with childish tears, my lips set to trembling.
Mother struggled to raise her head, watching me with sad eyes. "Oh, my baby…" She wept softly, the sound tearing at my very soul, "If I could, I'd stay with you forever and ever, but the Lifestream has asked me to return and I can't fight it any longer. Mama's going away now." Mother whispered, her voice a mere ghost of the laughing, joyous sound it once was so many years ago. This frail woman struggling to breathe, the one whose hand I was clutching, was not the lively, cheerful woman who used to sing me to sleep when I was a toddler. But I loved her and oh…even now it hurts.
The tears that I had been struggling to contain spilled forth, and I dropped to my knees beside her, clutching at mother's arm. "Mama, what can I do? I'll do anything, just please don't leave me all alone!" I sobbed, desperate to keep the only one who ever loved me here. It wasn't fair! The pain was unbearable.
My mother smiled a painful smile, reaching out her hand to touch my feathery hair, she stroked it with trembling hands. "Little Rufus, listen to me," Mother prodded, waiting a moment for me to raise my head, the tear-stains on my cheek effectively breaking her broken heart, "What you can do for mama is wear white. You know how in the funerals we've seen on TV people wear all black? Don't wear black. Wear white for mama, okay? That way, when I fade from this world, I'll be able to see you all the way up from Heaven, always." Mother whispered, smiling that watery smile of hers. Young and scared, I nodded slowly, accepting her words for what they were: The only comfort she could offer me in her dying moments. In a way, it comforted me then, thinking that even if my mother were to leave, she would always watch me. It made me a little stronger to face the days ahead.
And so, I rose slowly to my feet and stared down at the dying woman, melancholy in my eyes. Even then, I knew what this occasion was…
Goodbye.
"Okay, mama. I'll wear white for you….always and always!" I nodded decisively, offering her the best smile I could muster in such a forlorn hour. My mother smiled the last smile I would ever see; a lone tear trickled slowly down her cheek. She reached her hand up and touched my face, I held her hand there for a moment, not wanting to let go.
"That's my good boy! I love you, Rufus, and I promise I will watch my little angel boy in white….always and always, dear heart," and with that, my mother sighed and her eyes slipped shut one last time. Chocking back a sob, I leaned forward and kissed my beloved mother's tearstained cheek for the last time.
"I love you, mama. Goodbye."
From that day forward, I dressed in white. Nearly fifteen years spent in white garments, a silent tribute to a woman I loved more than any other. I wore white to my mother's funeral (despite the fury of my father), I wore it when I became Vice President, and I wore it when I became President of Shin-Ra. As I told mother: I would wear it always and always. In fact, in all the many years since Mother's death, the only time I ever wore anything other than pure white was at my father's funeral.
I wore black that day. I wore it so Mother would not see the shameful tears that I cried for a man I could not figure out if I hated or loved. I did not want my mother to see me that weakened, and she said only if I wore white would she see me. Even though I am a grown man, with a nasty case of disbelief and cynicism, I still believed her.
In the end, that is the reason I wear pure white. 'Tis not because of fashion, or a reason of purity…for I care not for fashion, nor am I pure in any sense of the word. For the crimes I've committed and the people I hurt, black would be the best, most appropriate color to wear, but I do not. I wear pure white for my beloved mother, and for her I will always wear these white garments.
She promised to watch me if I clothed myself in white; and I still love her more than any other in the world. So watch me, Mother. Your wingless angel is wearing white for you, which is the only thing he could ever do to help you in the end.
I love you, mama. I will wear white for you and love you…always and always.
Author's Note:
Well? Was it sad? Good? Thought-provoking? Revealing? Let me know, please!