Chapter Nine: Moral Support

Tseng drifted into a fitful sleep after being given his medication, his mind filled with troubling dreams. He was unable to find rest or escape the painful reality he was trapped within. It had almost come as a relief when he was awakened by Nurse Becky to have his bandaging changed a few hours later, though he found the process both extremely painful and embarrassing. It also brought home yet again just how helpless and at the mercy of others he was.

Because of Dr. Welsh's beliefs regarding his chances of returning to duty, Tseng had decided to try to look at the wound for the first time. He'd just barely been able to lift his head enough while Becky's male assistant held him up to get a brief look at the damage to his body, and almost immediately wished he hadn't. It was indeed a deep, ugly wound that extended nearly the entire length of his torso from left to right in a diagonal line. Countless sutures and staples marred his flesh like the tracks of the Midgar railway, yet parts of the wound still remained open and oozing. He'd seen plenty of serious injuries before, but was forced to quickly close his eyes as he fought a wave of nausea. Suddenly the unrelenting agony and burning in his chest made far more sense… as did the doctor's devastating words.

After the nurses had left him tucked in bed with fresh bandaging, he'd closed his eyes but been unable to return to sleep despite the extra dose of pain medication he'd been given due to the additional discomfort he'd just endured. Becky had been concerned by his silence and sullen demeanor throughout the ordeal, but he didn't care. There was simply too much on his mind.

Tseng had never before considered what his life would be like without the Turks. He'd always assumed he would be a Turk until the day he died, likely in the line of duty. There was no 'afterwards.' He had no backup plan, no alternate path to follow. When he thought about his world and removed being a Turk, he found that he was left with… nothing. He didn't know how to do anything else, be anything else. It was all that had ever been familiar outside of Wutai, and he had nowhere else to go. It was all he had known since he was a young man, and all he had ever really enjoyed and excelled at. There was nothing else he wanted to even consider as far as a job or career. But even further… being a Turk had become his whole identity.

Panic set in as he realized his entire existence, in so many ways, depended on remaining with the Turks. His few friends were all Turks, and he had lived comfortably within Shin-ra Headquarters for a long time. His life revolved around his work schedule. Everyone in Midgar and even beyond knew him as the department head and leader of the elite division, not as the man he truly was. No one really knew him outside of his job, as if that person had ceased to exist beyond his apartment walls. Who was he, then, without his position, and what would happen should he lose it? After hours, he was nothing more than a displaced Wutaiian in his late thirties who came home to an empty apartment when he was not away on assignment, clinging to what he could of a culture he'd been forced to leave behind while still struggling to hide what remained of his accent, spending his evenings reading or watching television when he didn't bring his work home with him. He sometimes socialized with Reno and Rude, but otherwise kept to himself. And all the while he pretended he was satisfied, that he didn't realize time and life were passing him by, that he didn't long for…

Gods, what am I thinking?

He frowned, disgusted with himself for the lapse in self-control. But at the same time, he couldn't help but admit that there was a lot of truth in that image of his life. What was he going to do if he actually couldn't return to duty? Tseng had never felt more lost and alone than he did at that moment, swallowing hard and gripping the sheets of his bed with his right hand. His entire world had been shaken to its core, and nothing made sense. He wanted everything back the way it was, peaceful and orderly, his role secure. And he wanted Elena to return.

That final thought took him completely off guard, and it served to halt his frantic thoughts in mid stream. Why did he always think of her when he felt alone and frightened about his future? Was it simply because she had been with him the most as his trainee and partner over the past year? Or because she had been at his bedside since he'd arrived at the hospital? Or due to something else… something he still struggled to admit to himself even in quiet moments of self reflection. He felt something for her he didn't quite recognize, something that was more than physical attraction or a passing interest. Deep inside, he knew exactly what it was, and had for some time… but he was not ready to name it. The idea was too foreign, too dangerous, and too frightening to consider, and now was definitely not the time.

Tseng groaned miserably and wished he could finally fall asleep, if only to escape the pain and uncertainty that had become his world. As irrational as he knew it was, the drugs often confused his thoughts and allowed him to hope that he might wake up and find that everything had been a bad dream. He'd find that he'd been safe in his bed back in Midgar all along, without a giant tear in his chest and the threat of the end of his career hanging above his head like the reaper's sickle…

He had just begun to fade from consciousness when the sound of soft footsteps entering the room caught his attention. He tensed but kept his eyes closed, hoping it was not another nurse about to disturb him. Despite the extra pain relief, he still ached from being manipulated and having the soiled bandages removed from his extremely tender and partially open wound, and was not sure how cooperative he'd manage to be if anyone else attempted to touch him. He was a modest man who preferred his own space under normal circumstances, and having largely unfamiliar hospital staff changing and bathing him, in addition to everything else, was already pushing his tolerance to its limits. He began to struggle to breathe with the expectation of further pain and humiliation, doing his best to calm his mind and convince himself he was being ridiculous. He could and would endure.

To his surprise, a small, warm hand settled on top of his right one, familiar fingers curling gently around his palm. Elena. She must have thought he was asleep… Tseng continued the illusion, unsure of what to do as he recalled the way she had tried to comfort him earlier in the day. He'd refused to speak with her and sent her away, the hurt in her eyes still clear in his memory. A bolt of pain independent of his injuries struck him, and he hated himself for the way he'd been treating her. She was only trying to help and didn't deserve it… but he was so frustrated and embarrassed for her to see him that way that he didn't know how else to react. It was all new to him, but he knew he had to do better. He was a man of honor, it was not proper to treat a woman who had gone out of her way for him so rudely no matter how unwell he felt.

He considered how to let her know he was awake without frightening her or making her uncomfortable, deciding to wait a bit and see what happened. He knew she was sitting in the chair beside his bed, able to feel her gentle blue eyes upon him. Her hand upon his was soothing somehow, and his breathing had quickly become easier, his troubled thoughts calm for the moment. All he could think about was the warmth of her skin against his, and why she had returned to his side after the way he'd been acting. Was it because it was still her assignment to be there? But if so, surely it wasn't necessary for her to sit at his bedside and hold his hand…

"Don't get upset, but I am awake," he finally said a few minutes later, a soft gasp escaping her lips as he opened his eyes and managed to turn his head slightly in her direction. Her eyes were wide when he looked up and met her shocked gaze, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. She began to awkwardly withdrawal her hand from his, but the frown on his face halted her in mid motion.

"You don't have to do that," he said quietly, feeling his own face grow warm. "I don't mind." What an understatement… and cowardly at that.

Elena paused uncertainly, her hand suspended in mid air, swallowing nervously as she cautiously studied him. Tseng managed to form a weak smile, shifting his arm closer toward her to show that he meant it. She finally reached out and gently covered his hand with hers again, staring down at their hands and seeming unable to meet his eyes again. In a way he was relieved, since he felt as awkward as she did. Perhaps more so.

"I… I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to disturb you. I just thought… since they gave you a second dose of pain medication, and your eyes were closed… I was sure you were asleep. But I shouldn't have-"

"Please relax, Elena. I was resting, but there was too much on my mind. I am… glad you came back."

Tseng was surprised at himself the moment the words were out of his mouth, and from her expression it was obvious Elena was, too. He still felt the drowsy warmth and pleasant relaxation of the pain medication blanketing his mind and body, and the relief of her presence at his side once again only added to it. Her hand resting upon his didn't hurt, either, and he wished he had both the strength and the nerve to turn his hand over and take a hold of it. Was it the drugs loosening his tongue, or had he just had too much time to reflect on the feelings that had been developing over the last year?

"You… you are?" Elena asked, her tone genuinely surprised and a bit puzzled. "You've seemed so annoyed with me the last few days. I-I thought…" She paused and shook her head, still staring down at her hand resting atop his much larger one as if awed. "I thought you were going to ask me to leave and not come back."

Tseng sighed quietly, briefly closing his eyes and wishing he could rub his temples to relieve some of the pressure. He had started this conversation, though, and he wanted to apologize for how he'd treated her earlier. But personal conversations of this nature had always been awkward and uncomfortable for him, and when it came to her… He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, and Elena squeezed his hand tightly as if she somehow sensed his discomfort. That disturbed him yet again, though after so long working closely together he often felt that he could anticipate her actions and read her mind as well. How strange, to know each so well on one hand, yet feel so clueless on the other…

"No, I wouldn't do that," he told her, his voice nearly a whisper. He saw her lean forward a bit in order to hear him better. It reminded him how of everyone he knew, she was the one who least often needed to ask him to repeat himself, something that meant the world to a man who remained self conscious about his accent. "I'm sorry if I've made you think that."

Elena finally glanced up and met his eyes, and though he saw the beginning of tears shining within them she didn't allow them to fall. Tseng forced himself to steadily meet her gaze and hold it, wanting her to know how sincere he was. He didn't expect to feel the powerful rush of emotion that raced through him, setting his mind and body ablaze. He swore in that moment there was a connection between them that she had to feel as well, and she gripped his hand tightly before she finally looked away.

"So… you do want me to stay then?" she asked hopefully, a slight tremble in her voice as she absently ran her thumb across the back of his hand. It made it difficult for him to concentrate, but he cleared his throat and looked away from the hypnotic movement, back up toward her face.

"Yes. I… am going to need a lot of assistance," he told her, swallowing his pride while also masking so much of the true reason he wanted her to stay. Needed her to stay. "I don't know for how long. I realize you will have to return to your regular assignments eventually, and that I may not be able to… to…"

Tseng closed his eyes and trailed off, unable to continue. It hurt so much he was unable to speak the words, grinding his teeth instead as his mind was filled with dreadful images. His breathing grew ragged again and he was unaware of how much time passed until he heard Elena's voice as if from a great distance, her hand now resting upon his right shoulder.

"Sir?! Are you okay? Do I need to call the nurse? Sir?"

Tseng blinked, looking up at her in a daze. She had risen from her chair and wore an expression of alarm, as if she had been trying to reach him for some time. He took a deep breath and cringed at the burning agony it caused in his chest, momentarily confused until he remembered what they had been discussing. He cringed and closed his eyes, ashamed and humiliated by the display of weakness. He hated for her to see him in such a state, but at least he knew she would not betray him and tell anyone else. He knew he could trust her.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, watching Elena's doubtful expression as she gently smoothed a stray lock of hair from his forehead before returning to her chair. The way she touched him was so tender, so gentle, that it sent chills down his spine and made him long for more. At that moment, his body broken and his wounded soul crying out in agony, he gazed up at her and very nearly begged her to hold him. But he quickly scolded himself and reigned in his emotions, blaming pain, exhaustion and the strong drugs before taking a moment to regain control of himself. Still, he didn't feel as if he could trust himself to say anything more. He'd begun to grow quite tired, and it became a struggle just to keep his eyes open and concentrate on Elena's words.

"I'll be here to help you for as long as you need me," she said, leaning forward and taking his hand between both of hers. "And please… please don't lose hope about returning to work. It's only been a week since you got hurt, and Dr. Welsh said you've been healing at an accelerated rate already. He can't possibly know yet whether or not you'll be able to, or when. You just can't give up, sir! If you let this get you down and stop fighting, then you really might not be able to. But… even if you… can't return to duty, I… I'm not going to abandon you, okay? We've been through too much together, and I, uh… care about you. Don't forget that."

"All right," he answered in Wutaiian without realizing, though she seemed to understand what he meant. "And… please stop calling me 'sir' while I'm in here," he added as his eyes slid closed, his fingers curling around one of Elena's hands in an effort to keep her there as he slept. He was too tired and full of pride to ask, and he heard the legs of the chair scrape against the floor as she moved it closer to his bed. Tseng may have remained confused about his feelings for her and embarrassed by his behavior, but as he finally gave in to exhaustion he at least felt more secure and able to rest for a while.


((Author's Notes: Well, as promised, this chapter is entirely from Tseng's POV. It's been hard to write much from his perspective thus far because he was either unconscious or heavily drugged, but now that he is more alert and starting to heal, he'll be a lot more active in the story. He's not very happy at this point, but he'll definitely be taking on a more active role. Not literally, of course, as we've just heard from the doctor, at least not yet. But he's a complex character, and he and Elena have a very complicated relationship they've both been avoiding dealing with. They may not have much of a choice now if she's going to stick around for the length of his recovery. Some touching and cute moments, but they've hardly sorted things out yet. Next chapter, Tseng's about had it with this hospital business! Can he and Elena find a way to spring him loose? Thanks so much for the reviews! You have no idea how happy they make me :D ~ JenesisX ))