The icy blonde returned to his paperwork, imperturbable mask once more in place. He had to forget what had just happened, he could not afford weakness, not after the effort he had gone to to create his reputation as the man who never bled, nor cried. His father had forced him to become a man far too early, and now he was practically a God. He did what was expected of him, burying himself in the paperwork, determined to be perfect. There was no flaw in perfection which could be exploited, hammered open. When he was perfect there would be no more weakness.
Sometimes he remembered those first days with Tseng, when they had both been so much younger, the bodyguard only a few years his elder assigned to protect him. Maybe it was his imagination, but the sun seemed warmer in those memories, those good old days before he had realised what being his father's heir truly meant. The days when he used to smile. They had grown close, but Rufus had started pushing the other away as they aged, at first not wanting to risk hurt to Tseng, and then for his own selfish reasons. One day the bodyguard had knocked in his door out of hours and pleaded for an explanation. Rufus had screamed at him that there had never been anything to explain, that he, Tseng, was a public relations nightmare, a scandal waiting to happen, and that he wasn't wanted.
The next day Tseng had turned up to work as usual, but the blinds had come down, and Rufus had never again seen those eyes sparkle for him the way they used to. Tseng was a tool now, just like him, and though neither of them showed any sign of the conflict or what had gone before, Rufus wondered if it haunted the imperturbable Wutaiain like it haunted him. He took some vindictive pleasure in making Tseng do assignments like this, making sure it was the other who eliminated Turks when they were superfluous to requirements. He knew it killed Tseng inside, because like a good Head of Department, he cared for his subordinates, but he hoped that if he could drive Tseng to hate him enough, then it might be strong enough to overcome the feelings he still had for the other. He kept pushing him away, he couldn't stand closeness, vulnerability, but he missed the friend he had once had.
Lost in these thoughts, the blonde was unaware of footsteps approaching softly over the thick pile carpet of his office. A rag was clamped roughly over his nose and mouth, and, even as he started to struggle, the world swirled away to black. Rather than panic, Rufus felt only a deadly calm, accepting this fate. Sometimes he had no energy left to fight.