Yay! I have power! Haha! Thank you fanfiction gods!

Hmm…. I was doing some research on final fantasy Wiki, and realized that right now, Verdot should technically be in charge, not Tseng…

Eck.

Well, I guess this is just going to have to be AU then. Before Crisis was never released in US, so I get to claim ignorance! :)

WOW! Over 100 reviews! XD I never dreamed I'd get so many! So I dropped everything and started writing, just like I promised! Hope you guys like it.

Anyone else watch ABDC? Quest crew is freakin' awesome! I always feel extremely inadequate compared to them…

So yeah. Tell me what you think!

Don't own don't sue.

Enjoy!

Cloud stared at the ceiling and tried to remember how to breathe again. He had hoped, had ached for this to be reality—for this to be death and for Zack to be here to greet him. Well, so much for that. He should have known better than to believe in such a fairytale.

The blond gasped as his body forced him to inhale, but he did not allow the tears to fall. He'd done enough crying, and he was half-afraid if he started, he would never stop. He couldn't lie in this room any more, listening to Zack's voice, tormented by the sound because he knew it wasn't real. Zack wasn't going to come back. Nothing short of dying and entering the lifestream would let Cloud see his best friend again, and if he was sure of anything it was that this… place was not the lifestream. At first he'd thought it was. He'd taken in Zack's face, his habits, his every quirk, and wanted to believe that this was real. Cloud knew Zack. No one could possibly ever replicate him to the degree that Cloud could be fooled. So if it wasn't a replica, then this had to be death.

But if this were death, why would Zack have denied it? And besides, it wasn't like he hadn't been dead before. He was always, always being sent back, but he knew well enough what the lifestream felt like. It was peace. It was warmth and light and complete and utter relief. Cloud had never felt pain any of the times he'd been in the lifestream, no matter the state his body had been in to send him there in the first place. And the lifestream didn't have beds, or chairs, or cell phones. No. This wasn't death. It was just another dream. When would it stop? A dream within a dream within a dream. What was the last "real" thing that happened? Would he wake up from all of this and be back in Tifa's bar to find that he'd never left? Or worse, what if he woke up on a surgical table in Hojo's lab to find that his whole life had been some kind of mako-induced nightmare?

Zack's voice didn't cease taunting him as it echoed in from the other room. It did nothing but remind him of all his past failures. Zack, Aeris, Sephiroth… all of them were flashing blood-covered and dying before his eyes. Cloud bit his lip until it bled and tried not to scream. He was so confused. He didn't know what was real any more, or if everything he'd lived was a lie, but he knew that he couldn't stand this dream for even one more second. He had to wake up or he was going to go mad.

Whatever Zack was arguing about seemed to grow more heated, because suddenly that voice was louder than before. Cloud curled in on himself and covered his ears in a pathetic attempt to block out the noise, but the scenes replaying over and over in his mind only seemed to get more vivid. He felt the urge to tear at his eyes, to bash his head into the wall until everything stopped. Why shouldn't he? This was only a dream after all. But more than that, he wanted nothing more than to run. Every part of him was screaming at him to get away, and he knew if he didn't he was going to break.

He was shaking as he forced himself to stand, going against every nerve in his body to lift himself off the bed. He had to get out of here. Even if it was only a dream, it felt all too real to his already burdened heart. Gory scenes of indiscriminate death, he could handle. Even the nightmares of his time in Hojo's lab were manageable. But this—this tantalizing torture. Seeing what he'd lost, and knowing he could never ever have it again. Cloud couldn't make himself face it. And if Zack were here, alive and whole and perfect, what if others showed up too? What if Aeris—or what if…

Cloud ran. He ignored the pain and the voices, didn't notice the green that surrounded him as he moved. All he knew was that he had to get away. He ripped open the door furthest from the one the false Zack had gone through. It turned out to be nothing but a bathroom, and Cloud was just about to turn back and fight with the window when he noticed the other door within. He tried it desperately, knowing it was probably a closet and wondering why it should be. This was a damn dream. Who said things had to be logical? But somehow he was in luck. The door led to a plain, quaint looking living room. He didn't really see that though. All he could see was the front door, and his fevered mind equated it with freedom. Cloud sprinted across the room and almost relished in the pain the movement caused. If it hurt enough, maybe he'd wake up.

But he didn't wake up, despite the agony in his legs and lungs and pretty much everywhere else. He didn't awaken and he didn't stop moving for a second because the moment he stopped was the moment it all caught up with him. His hand shot out to tear the door open, heart plummeting in his chest when he saw not the light of day, but an endless hallway. Still, Cloud didn't pause. He swore, clenched his teeth and continued his attempt to escape, frantic for an exit. It was all he could do to keep running, all his thoughts bent on nothing more than putting one foot in front of another as quickly as possible. He forced himself onward, speeding headlong into the empty corridor, pushing himself for more and more speed. Maybe if he went fast enough, he could out run the ghosts in his mind.

Sometimes Tseng really hated his job.

It wasn't the heartless decision making that got to him. Knowing he was hurting blameless people, committing wrongs in the name of a corrupt and illegitimate authority didn't bother him much. It had once, but that time was over now, or so he told himself. He'd forced himself to remember that his fellow Turks were worth more than the nameless innocents who got in the way of Shinra. It wasn't really the crazy long hours or the lack of sleep that got to him either. He could deal with that easily enough, even if sometimes he did feel like he was on the verge of collapse. He didn't hate the responsibility of knowing that the lives of his agents were in his hands, because when it came down two it, his hands were the only ones he could trust with such precious things. He also really didn't care that every second of every day he was betraying his very heritage by working for the Shinra. No. What Tseng hated the most about his job had always come down to the blond currently sitting in his office chair.

At first it had been because Tseng was a rookie, and Rufus was just a kid, and damn it, he hadn't been recruited to babysit! Of course, he realized now he'd been a child himself at that time, hardly over sixteen, but he didn't see it then. "Protection detail" of ten-year-old Rufus had been an affront to his pride. But that was before the president's son had eaten away at his defenses, naively endeared himself to Tseng until he was part of the family. Rufus had looked up to him for everything—not just protection, but simple things his parents should have been able to give. Acceptance, pride, even the slightest bit of acknowledgement… all of it was up to Tseng to provide. He used to think the hated how easily Rufus had gotten him to care, but now he thought he didn't mind so much.

Once Rufus had gotten under his skin, Tseng had something new to despise. Hojo's somewhat frequent kidnappings were breaking the boy, and Tseng hated that he couldn't do a damn thing about it. The boss's orders were the boss's orders, and if his superior wanted to follow the president blindly, then that was what the Turks would do. So when Tseng finally made it to the head of the department, Rufus was the first thing on his mind. He put the boy through his paces, training him like any other Turk and watched as Rufus grew cold and jaded. He hated that he'd forced such a kind soul to harden so early, but if he didn't, Hojo would. Best to toughen the blond up now then let Hojo turn him into a tortured shell.

Eventually the disappearances slowed almost to a stop. But whenever they did happen, it was ten times worse than before. After a few harrowing days in the med bay, Rufus would wake up and demand to go back to work, or training, or whatever other mindless task he could think of. He'd pour himself into political intricacies or spend hours upon endless hours at the shooting range, completely ignoring the fact that he should be in bed! Tseng couldn't count the number of arguments he'd had with his charge over the importance of rest in field performance. Unfortunately, his training had backfired in that area. Rufus had needed to be smart—had needed to learn how to lie and lead and cajole if he was going to survive. But somehow, the student had become better than his teachers. Rufus always managed to talk Tseng into a corner, no matter how mako-ill he was, and he always did it without breaking his impenetrable mask.

And that was what Tseng hated the most. Because even though he wanted Rufus to be safe—he'd wanted Rufus to come out of this stronger and more worthy of leading Shinra than his father, he hadn't wanted the blond to become a Turk so entirely. Rufus was nothing but calculating every moment of every day. He never stopped to talk about the things that were bothering him or for simply a moment of normalcy. Gone was the little boy who had looked up to him six years ago for absolutely everything. Rufus didn't need him anymore; or at least liked to pretend that he didn't, despite the emotions Tseng knew had to be churning under that cold façade.

"Tseng, kindly stop pacing." Rufus broke the silence with his command, his hand pausing in its constant shuffle of files. The teen sounded every bit the Vice President he'd recently been appointed to be. "If it really bothers you so much that I'm using your desk, I can always go back to my own…" Tseng glared at his charge as Rufus trailed off. The blond knew that was exactly what he didn't want. Hojo had somehow taken Rufus from his office in broad daylight, and until they figured out how, it wasn't safe for Rufus to be there. The Turk department on the other hand… well, not even Hojo would mess with the Turks.

"It's not about that and you know it," he snapped, patience wearing thin after so many days with so little sleep. Rufus sent him a look that could fell a behemoth and Tseng took a deep breath to calm himself. What was wrong with him today? He needed to get his emotions back under control. So what if Rufus was making things difficult, the teen was his superior, and as such, couldn't be treated as if he were still that same ten-year-old boy.

The director decided to placate his boss for the time being, and silently seated himself in the chair facing his desk. He pulled the work he'd been doing prior to Rufus's kidnapping out of its hiding place. The Vice President gave him one last look before turning back to his own work, searching for something at a fevered pace. Tseng knew the teen was looking through information that, technically, should only have been seen by himself and the president, but pretended not to notice. He was loyal to Rufus, not Shinra, and he would continue to be so. Even if the blond was an idiot when it came to taking care of himself.

"Sir, I don't suppose you would consent to working on this tomorrow?" He didn't have to look up from the page he was on to see the way Rufus's shoulders would tense, eyes flashing. Perhaps he shouldn't have been pushing things so far, but he had also seen the minute shake in Rufus's hands, the brightness in mako-treated eyes—telltale signs that the blond was in pain. "You will be able to concentrate better after the mako has had time to set in." There was no point dancing around it. Trying to get to the subject indirectly was to play Rufus's game, and then there was no way he'd win. But he couldn't say he expected the blond to flinch. Tseng's eyes narrowed.

"My schedule is not open for debate with you." Rufus didn't pause in his search. The former Wutaian wondered if this was a matter that was actually that urgent, or if Rufus was just trying to lose himself in his work. A quick survey of the files splayed out over his desk, and Tseng decided it was probably a little bit of both.

"Then perhaps I can help? Most of our information on Hojo's experiments is not kept in the usual files." Rufus almost jumped at the mention of the professor's name, but caught himself. Tseng wondered just what had happened this time around to get Rufus acting so skittish.

"Thank you, but I can handle it on my own. However the location of these extra files would be useful." Tseng resisted the urge to hit his head against the desk. He opened his mouth to suggest that two heads would be better than one, but—"Where?" Rufus commanded, his every feature demanding obedience.

"What timeframe would the experiment be in?"

"Unknown." Well. Not really surprising, he supposed.

"What did the experiment entail?"

"Not up for disclosure." Tseng frowned. Rufus may have been smart, but when it came down to it, he was really just a teenager and Tseng knew avoidance when he saw it. Rufus was searching for an experiment that had been tested on him, with reason to believe it had been carried out before, and obviously worry for what it might entail. The Vice President's urgency suddenly made a lot more sense.

"Most of our intelligence on Hojo has been broken up and encrypted on several disks. I'm afraid I can't help you if I don't know—" Rufus growled and Tseng knew something was really wrong. Rufus hadn't lost his sarcastic composure in… quite some time.

"Tseng, just give me the first damn disk." The Turk allowed himself to stare for a moment at his boss and worry before sighing and walking around the desk to the computer. He wanted to reassure Rufus—to say that whatever the hell had been done to him, the Turks could help him sort it out. They could deal with it, and face it, and eventually have something to keep Hojo away for good. He wanted to say that it was ok for Rufus to forget that he was the Vice President sometimes and let himself feel emotion. He wanted to. But it was already too late for that.

"Start with the most recent disk." Tseng suggested as he turned the monitor back on. "I was careless when you were taken and left it in my computer, so…" He trailed off as the screen came back to life, the line URGENT REPORT flashing in the Turk secret code right in the middle. Tseng clicked it and read the contents with no little trepidation.

"What happened?" Rufus asked, back to the fully professional person he always tried to be. Tseng very much wanted to scream right now, but he settled for an eye twitch.

"Sephiroth." Tseng grumbled, as though that explained everything. Rufus merely raised an eyebrow. "Apparently he took it upon himself to make sure Hojo can no longer utilize SOLDIER specimens." The blond beside him raised a hand to his temple, massaging as if to soothe away some headache.

"Fool." He spat. Tseng quite agreed with him. "Doesn't he realize Hojo will retaliate?" Companionable silence stretched on for a while, earlier conflict forgotten in the face of this new development. "When did this happen? I need to know how much time Hojo has had to plan already." Tseng looked at the encoded date and braced himself before he spoke again.

"Three days ago." Rufus cursed rather violently and threw himself out of the desk chair. His gait was still slightly erratic, and the Turk wondered why he'd said anything at all. Damn it. He was supposed to be trying to get Rufus to rest, not sending him off on another workaholic spree!

"Where are you going?" He shouted, but didn't get up to follow. He would be needed on this end now, to cover whatever damage Hojo was planning to do, and to begin forming countermeasures. He would just have to call Cissnei or Rude and have one of them look after Rufus for a while. Actually, Cissnei probably had a better chance at getting Rufus to rest then he did.

"That is none of your concern!" Tseng scowled, and waited for the sound of footsteps to fade before calling the Shuriken Turk.

Sometimes, he really, really hated his job.

And it was all Rufus's fault.