AN: This chapter's a little bit shorter, but I think it gets some good plot points out. Leave a review if you liked, or if you have feedback for me. Thanks so much for reading. Hope you enjoy!

It was 3 a.m. and Rufus was wide awake. His face was lit by the dim, artificial light of the computer monitor before him. He'd read the file more than a dozen times by now, but nothing in it seemed to add up.

Deimos had been given his own file in the Turk's assignment database. Their research showed most of the general facts—name, age, gender, and his wanted status, currently sporting the great black "DECEASED" heading. Rufus now updated it to "MOST WANTED," sending it to the top of the Turk's pile. He knew he'd have to track him down to get answers, as Rhea had suddenly become a stone wall to him.

Rufus thought his visit to her apartment might have been a mistake—that he had been to rash and asked too much of her in her fragile state. But he was desperate for an explanation. Now that Deimos had resurfaced, what were his plans? And what did Rhea have to do with all? Though he knew in his subconscious that Rhea was probably capable of handling the situation herself, he felt suddenly protective over her. He had promised Reno he would look out for her, and so far he had almost let her be executed in the streets and kissed her in a moment of weakness. He doubted any of that was what Reno meant by "keep her safe."

There was also the threat that Rhea might be persuaded to realign herself with Deimos. She had been reluctant to join the relocation program in the first place, and Deimos might have offered her something more appealing in return for her allegiance.

These thoughts kept Rufus up at night. He wanted nothing more than to be by her side, to keep watch over her, to guide her out of the darkness that haunted her past. But Deimos was becoming an unfortunate setback in that process.

Rufus slammed the monitor of his laptop closed and threw it into the drawer of his desk. He leaned back and ran his cold hands down his face, feeling the tired skin of his cheeks tug and stretch unwillingly. He rose from his chair and approached the window that lay behind the desk. Edge looked as peaceful as ever, lit by the full moon and wheeling stars. There was just enough light that he could see his reflection in the glass, and it frightened him a bit. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, his hair disheveled, tie hanging loose from his neck and jacket wrinkled. He thought back to the night before and remembered the look on Rhea's face as he had pulled back from her. He had barely recognized that face: a look of shock in her wide eyes—or perhaps it was fear. He had not meant to be so coarse with her, but his emotions had gotten the best of him. He had spent so many years suppressing his anger and frustration that they often boiled over at inopportune moments. He wished he could go back to the night before and steal back the crude words and that indelicate kiss. No, perhaps that wasn't it at all—perhaps he just wanted to tell her how he truly felt.

Rufus pulled his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. He stared at the soft glow of the screen and pulled up Rhea's number. His finger hovered over the keypad for several long minutes. He then flipped the phone closed and returned his gaze to the sleepy city before him.

"Well done, Rhea." Her instructor's voice rang brightly over the dull hum of magic being conjured in the lecture hall. "Everyone, Rhea has managed to cast Regenerate on her mouse. Turn and see."

Rhea smiled proudly as students came over to watch her casting her spells with great proficiency.

She had struggled hard to catch up to the class in the weeks after her encounter with Rufus. Her spirit had been in great turmoil being tugged between alliance to Hydra and her ties to Shinra. She was angry at both of them, for many different reasons, and her magic had suffered because of it. However, she hadn't heard from either man in two weeks, giving her time to refocus her efforts. To her relief, she'd unlocked the secret to curative magic in that time.

One night, as she sat before her dying rat on the verge of tears, Rhea had retreated to her room and opened the music box on her dresser. Lying on top of the tiny pile of possessions was her mother's badge. She left the cover of the box propped open and curled up on her bed with the picture pressed to her heart. She was beautiful. Rhea was in awe of it, and of the way she looked just like her mother. Rhea thought back to the night she died, remembering how her mother had barely made a sound as she lay dying in the streets. The only words she had formed were the broken syllables of her children's names: "Reno… Rhea…" They had gurgled up from her throat as she reached out to them, watching them being dragged into shadows.

Rhea wondered if she would be able to save her mother now. She wondered if she could draw the bullet from her breast, heal the gaping wound with a powerful Cure spell. It pained her to realize she would never know.

When Rhea returned to conjuring spells on her rat, she always pictured her mother—not suffering or dying as she thought she might, but she imagined the close-lipped smile and cheerful eyes she saw on her Shinra badge. Rhea pictured that face standing beside her, looking over her shoulder, having been spared the sad fate from sixteen years before…

To her delight, Rhea's strategy had propelled her to new heights in her studies. She had aced her exam on Heal Materia and was now learning how to master Restore magic. In four more weeks, Rhea would become a certified Healer, ready to join the ranks of the W.R.O. and travel the world, easing pain and suffering wherever she went.

Rhea returned home from her last class of the week with her head held high. Thoughts of Rufus and his ill-timed kiss no longer haunted her thoughts, and likewise her reunion with Deimos was pushed somewhere deep into her consciousness. She hoped, with any luck, she wouldn't have to see either of them again anytime soon.

She should have known that was impossible.

When Rhea arrived at the door to her apartment, she found a white envelope tacked to it. On the front was printed her name in swirling script lettering. She pulled the envelope down and entered her apartment, unfolding the paper slowly. She pulled out the contents that lay inside—a red-and-gold post card with the Shinra logo printed on the front. With a sour look, she turned it over.

"Dear Miss Rhea Flynnt,

You have been cordially invited to the third annual Restoration Gala, set to be held at 7 o'clock in the evening, July 30th. Here will be celebrated the long-lasting collaboration between the Shin-Ra Company and the World Restoration Organization. The event itself will take place in Edge City Park, with music provided by Junon Symphony Orchestra and speeches from both organizations' presidents and high esteemed chairmen. All transportation needs have been arranged and will be set to arrive at your position at exactly 6:45 in the evening. Please be ready to leave when your car arrives.

We, Shin-Ra Company and the World Restoration Organization, thank you for your participation in this grand event. We look forward to seeing you.

Signed,

President Rufus Shin-Ra

President Reeve Tuesti."

Rhea tightened her grip on the paper. As she read, thoughts of Rufus crept into her mind—the sharp twinge of his finger on her arm, the damp curve of his lips pressed against hers. Was this his version of an apology? Rhea doubted it. More than likely, it was simply another way for him to assert his power over her. There was no RSVP on the letter, meaning it would not be her choice whether or not to appear. With a frustrated sigh, Rhea crumpled the letter in her hand and threw it in the trash.

How typical.

Rhea had never been to a formal gathering before. She was unsure of how to dress or conduct herself. Though her attendance at the Gala had not been her choice, she determined that she would at least try to fit in with the big wigs and rich folks that were sure to be there. She wanted to show Rufus that she could get along fine without his help, that she didn't need him to lead her along like a child. She would arrive calm and composed and ready to charm anyone she might meet.

To fit her new persona, she had taken the remainder of her monthly stipend and bought a lovely cocktail dress at a local boutique. It was a shimmering emerald green color with a plunging neckline and a long black zipper running from the nape of her neck to the middle of her back. It fit tightly to her curves and stopped just above her knees. When she pulled it on the night of the Gala, it was as if she became a new person. She paired the dress with dramatic eye makeup and a set of black jewelry that she'd kept stashed in her music box. She'd pulled her hair into an elegant twist accented by a small braid.

When she'd finished getting ready, Rhea tucked her mother's badge into the small clutch she carried. For some strange reason, it calmed her to know it was there. After a final look in the mirror, she headed out to street level to wait for her car. A black sedan soon arrived with Rude behind the wheel. Wordlessly, he left the front seat to open the back door for her. Rhea smiled at him as she slid in, legs together like a lady, hands smoothing her dress across her lap. He reentered the driver's side and in a moment, they were off.

While they drove, Rhea thought about how she might react to seeing Rufus again after their awkward encounter. She'd spent many days replaying that moment in her head, and she thought now how it might have gone much differently had Deimos never appeared. It was strange, but Rhea considered it a kindness that Deimos had given her mother's Shinra badge to her. She knew his organization was the reason her mother and father were dead, but it had not been done by his hand. Everyone who had been involved in that incident had now been long gone. Perhaps Deimos simply wanted to apologize for the sins of his dead comrades.

The car slowed to a stop and Rhea was awoken from her thoughts. Rude came around to open the door for her. She took his extended hand and stood, offering him a polite nod before heading toward the entrance to the city park.

The grounds had been fitted with every security measure possible—from metal detectors to Turks positioned every few feet around its perimeter. She passed through the detectors without much of a fuss and joined the throng of people moving toward the center of the park. The trees were all hung with red and gold decorations, and soft orchestral music floated up on the warm evening air. A fountain trickled in the center of the main area in front of the orchestra and podium. Rhea stood at the edge of the crowd it and let her eyes roam around the area. Each man looked not much different from the next: they all wore tuxedos and had finely-groomed hair, a glass of champagne in one hand and an overdressed wife on the other. Judging by their idle chatter, neither of the presidents had arrived yet.

Just then, Rhea's ears perked up at the sound of a twig snapping. She had just turned to look into the dark depths of the wooded area behind her when a cold hand snapped out and pulled her behind a tree. When she was pushed up against it, another hand found her mouth. Rhea looked at the figure before her: the white eye was the first thing she saw.

Deimos held a finger to his lips until Rhea nodded her head in agreement. He then released her and jerked his head further into the darkness. She followed him obediently, amazed at how he'd managed to get into the park with the vast amounts of security surrounding it.

After a moment of walking, Deimos turned to her. He then reached into the waistband of his pants and pulled out a small pistol, pointing it at her menacingly. Rhea froze.

"Just a precaution, love," he said quietly, peering over her shoulder toward the party. "I'm sure you understand."

"How did you get in here?" she asked in awe.

"I told you I have my ways," he replied.

Rhea watched that malevolent smile spread across his face. "…What do you want?"

"When's the president getting here?"

Rhea shook her head. "I don't know."

"Listen here, my little spitfire," he said. "President Shinra has some information that I need. He's been keeping it hidden since the fall of Meteor." He approached her slowly now, his gun arm still poised. "I need you to get it for me."

"Why?" Rhea asked, her voice tiny in the face of the barrel staring back at her.

He smirked and cocked his head to the side. "I don't think you're in a position to ask questions here, love."

"Listen, Deimos," she said softly. "I want to help you. I really do. But I need more information. You can't keep me in the dark like this."

Deimos narrowed his eyes and, after a short pause, lowered his gun a bit. "I'm looking for a file listed under 'REACTOR'," he explained slowly. "It'd be in his office, closely guarded. I need what's inside for a…project I'm working on."

Suddenly, the sound of applause and muffled words reached her ears. Rufus had arrived. "What do you need me to do?"

Dry laughter hissed from his throat. "Simple, Rhea," he said, running his eyes up and down her body. "I need you to do what you do best."

She tensed up. "I'm not sleeping with him."

"Fine," he said. "But my next option would be much messier."

Rhea thought about Rufus just then—about her tumultuous feelings for him. She'd spent the past two weeks pushing them down into the depths of her subconscious, ignoring the way her body grew warm at the thought of his lips against her own, the way her eyes fluttered closed whenever she caught the scent of something that smelled like him. She wanted very badly to grant Deimos this last wish, the one she hoped would cut him from her life forever, but she did not want it to come at such a heavy price. She would do what she had to do.

"And if I get them?" she asked. "What happens next?"

Deimos slid the hammer of his gun forward and holstered it. "Meet me back here tomorrow at 10 a.m.," he said, turning away from her. "I'll show you everything you want to know."

Rhea watched him disappear into the darkness and stood stone-still for several moments. She had finally made a decision that was her own, but now she wondered if it had been the right one.