Blood: Chapter 4

Rose

The road to Wallmarket was in a terrible state. Everybody knew that, just, nobody cared. It was considered part of the adventure in going to Wallmarket that you had to make it past the creatures that lived under the wrecked digger, or behind the torn up waves of road. Then, when you got where you were going you felt all the more fulfilled. What absolute rubbish!

Evan couldn't see why people came up with stupid reasons instead of doing something about their problems. Why, he remembered back when the road was freshly laid, when the loose chippings and smell of molten tar was still in the air. He had been a child then, racing alongside the steam roller with the other kids, calling for the driver to let them have a go. They never did get a go of course, but he did. His dad was driving the steamroller. That had been a long time ago, when Midgar was a series of towns, and this particular one had been called Hawthorn after the prickly, white flowering trees that grew everywhere. My God! He was getting old.

Then, that thought was going to come up, revisiting a place from his childhood as he was.

The playground had been the centre of his world at one point - the place you went before and after school to meet up with your 'gang'. All the kids hung around in gangs back then. None of the gangs had names beyond 'Jimmy's gang' or 'Letty's gang' and so on. He had been in Jimmy's gang, the one all the boys from Hawthorn were in. It was a big gang. They all hung out at the playground.

The place was so different to what it had been once. The swing set had been replaced, but the shed, and the slide and the climbing thing were all the same. The dust was new. Once there had been extensive lawns, dotted with daisies and intersected by flowerbeds with snap dragons and nasturtiums and roses. There used to be an azalea overhanging the chain link fence, and a bright blue gate with canal boat style flowers painted on it.

Now there was a gaping hole in the fence between the two dirty old stone gate posts. He had to smile though, despite the change in the place. Nothing could take away his memories. In his head he could still see the place it used to be.

A familiar creaking drew him to look round at the swing set, a smile touching him at the sight of the young lady there.

Rose Jennnings sat on the swing, going back and forth as though aiming to go over the crossbar. She would have looked like a child with her contented smile and her long black hair pulled up into pigtails, but for the dusty Shinra 3X motorcycle standing unsteadily beside the swing set. It had definitely seen better days, the gear selector hanging off, the head lamp broken with a large hole in the top. Just what had she been up to?

He leant harder on the unstable old gate post, studying her carefully. It was more than likely that she had been here for some time, quite happy to while away the minutes on the rusty old swing. She was a quiet one; it seemed to be an ongoing thing that she would only say something if that something was worthwhile. She reminded him a lot of someone he used to know in that respect, but there was no need to go into that right then.

Rose was shy, very shy. It was still a mystery to him how she managed to train recruits when she hardly spoke to them, but he was never one to question people's methods.

Evan jumped suddenly, part of the climbing thing falling away and hitting the ground with a dusty thump. He glanced over at Rose, sighing to see her smiling at him. Coughing lightly, he straightened his tie as though nothing had happened.

"In need of maintenance." Rose mused aloud, her old friend taking up the swing beside her, "A bit like you."

Evan winced, "I may be seasoned, Miss Jennings, but I'm not out of batteries yet." Rose said nothing, focusing her attentions on swinging higher. "What happened to your bike?"

"Special job." She replied , "My target panicked, thought fighting back was the best strategy. Put a bullet through the head lamp casing. Lucky for me it ricocheted off something inside else I'd have a pretty little hole in my neck."

Evan smirked, "If some crazy woman on a motorcycle came at me packing double hardware, I think I might panic too."

"You're scared of spiders, Evan."

"We're all afraid of something. I just happen to dislike hairy eight-legged somethings."

She tried to think of an answer, but nothing came to her. What was she supposed to say to that? She was afraid of somethings also; she could hardly speak for the 'all' side of the argument, could she? "My pistols need to visit the workshop too."

"Why? What happened to them?"

She shook her head, "I dropped one of them. It bounced off a car and ended up on the slip road somehow. The trigger's sticking."

"I see."

They swung in silence then, neither one willing to be the first to say something cheery. A sense of comfort was deemed inappropriate after such a conversation.

It was Rose that gave in first, "How're the preparations going?"

Evan took a deep breath, "Rufus is in an awful mood. Just be grateful that you're finished for the day."

"That good hmmmm?"

"Great mood. Never been happier in all the time I've known him."

He neglected to elaborate on why Rufus was in such a 'good' mood, choosing instead to see how long it would take his swing to stop if he allowed his feet to drag on the ground. Not long it seemed. "I don't think it's a good idea." Shaking his head, he explained, "Moving that chunk of metal all the way over here. Sephiroth doesn't play by the rules. He plays mind games, attacks your emotions. Unfortunately, he seems pretty resistant to the whole weapons thing so far. No one's been able to lay a finger on him."

"He messes with you." Rose murmured bitterly. "Take my word for it."

Evan offered no reply, digging absently at the dusty ground with the toe of one loafer. Eventually, he cleared his throat, "It's changed, hasn't it?"

Rose lifted her tired green eyes from the ground to gaze curiously across at her superior, "Evan?" He began to swing again, tilting his head back as though expecting to find the sky above him, closing his eyes to avoid disappointment as a quiet, somewhat eerie laugh escaped him,

"This playground. It's changed since I was a boy." Rose said nothing, swinging gently, staring at the ground once more. Evan continued, "Much of it is still the same. Though I do believe someone had put that gate back up not long ago. It's gone again now."

"It's so much dustier than I remember it."

Evan halted suddenly, allowing his eyes to roam the expanse of the playground, frowning at some things, shaking his head at others, "There used to be grass here back then, and flower beds. Lots and lots of flower beds." As he expected, Rose remained silent on the subject. The greenery had disappeared not long after she had been born he'd wager. It was impossible that she would remember it back then. "My mother used to come here with me everyday, after school. She used to bring her gardening gloves and tend the flower beds, and trim the edges around the lawns." Rose looked round to see that he was reminiscing, that 'in my day' look on his face. "She loved the flowers here. She used to tell me, 'a beautiful place for a beautiful boy.' I wonder how she would rephrase that, if she were around to talk to me now."

"We've all done things we're not proud of Evan." His subordinate informed him with a sigh, "Unfortunately, it's just part and parcel of our lifestyles."

"Lifestyle? There are two sides to every man, Rose, and I refuse to take my work persona home with me, though, it is difficult not to sometimes. I suppose that's half the reason I'm fifty five and sleep alone."

Rose swallowed her words. Asking after Emma would only cause Evan pain, and that woman had caused him enough of that. A new mantra on his part then? An interesting move if ever there was one made by Evan Reilly.

"Your day is over now, isn't it?" His voice snapped her out of her private thoughts, drawing her to look round at him a little too sharply, "No need to glare, it's just a question."

"I didn't mean it." She assured him, "I only had the one assignment today. There's no paperwork to speak of, so I have nothing else to do back at headquarters besides drop off my pistols."

He nodded, "And I have some things to finish up back there too. Shall we?" Rose stopped her swing, standing and moving back as Evan leapt off his own swing, taking a few steps to stop. Smiling inwardly at his sprightliness, she started over to her bike.

"Want a lift?" She asked, taking her helmet from the seat. The deep frown her friend set on her was confusing, "What?"

"There's only one helmet, and two of us."

Rose shrugged, "Yes, the helmet which, as designated driver for this trip I allocate to you. Now get over here and stop making excuses."

"I don't like this, Rose." Evan informed her bluntly, taking the helmet and strapping it on.

"I'll take it slowly." She assured him, throwing her leg over the bike and jabbing the starter.

Rose was true to her word, carefully weaving in and out of traffic along the highway. Evan clung on for dear life, his avoidance of the rail system more ridiculous than usual. He trusted Rose implicitly, he could never, and would never deny that fact, but when a passenger on an unstable motorcycle, the engine rattling every now and again, it was difficult to relax.

After several minutes, they arrived at the steps of the Shinra building. Reno leant casually against the wall, probably snatching a desperate cigarette break. The crunch of gears as Rose moved the bike into first forced the red head to grimace, but he waved his cigarette in a greeting anyway. "Shouldn't he be doing something else?" Rose queried, returning the wave.

Evan shrugged, pulling off his helmet, "I've been wondering that for years."

"You're in one piece right?" He nodded, holding out his hands for her pistols, "Good. Then, tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

With that, Rose moved off, leaving Evan to watch her slip into traffic between two articulated lorries. He stared after her for some long minutes, realising suddenly that she had vanished down the slip road along with her eight-wheeled escorts, towards sector three. Shaking his head, he turned on his heel and started up the steps, smoothing his short, dark hair as he went.

"Ehhhh, Evan." Reno greeted him, biting the filter off his cigarette and flicking it away, "What the hell happened to her bike?" The old Turk neglected to answer, reaching out and snatching a hold of Reno's lapel as he passed,

"You come with me." He muttered, pushing the door open with his free hand.

"Where we going?"