Author's notes: WELL HELLO! Welcome back. It's been a while hasn't it? Hope you've all been well.
I'm dedicating this chapter to you new followers, who gave me that little extra boost of inspiration I needed. And if you're an old reader and you're still sticking around... to put it in Gen's words, I really fucking love you. :) Do be a darling and let me know what you liked, what you didn't, how bloody late I am, how I really should finish a fic before even starting to publish it, etc, etc...
I'm trying to get ahead as much as possible so you should be seeing chapter 12 next week!

Music: Gosh. This chapter did take a good handful of months to get right so I went through quite a few phases. Tricky, Thievery Corporation (especially "The Forgotten People"), Archive's fantastic new album...

Border of Taboo

11

• • •

True to Aeris' predictions, her strange night visitor was no longer there when she woke. A pounding headache had taken his place, and she hardly even had the time to groan and bring a hand to her forehead that there were already fists trying to batter her door down.

"Main two, needed in 30 minutes on the stage. We're running late."

"What about breakfast?" she shouted unceremoniously, still too groggy to settle back into her usual politeness.

"You'll eat while warming up. Come on, come on, come on!"

Perfect. Aeris stumbled off of the mattress, scrambling for her watch – it was hardly even half past seven, and they were already doing her head in with their schedule! She'd decided to throw herself into her job since the director clearly hadn't thought that it was her dancing abilities that had landed her here; they'd needed dancers who could wield materia, and it was on that basis that she'd been officially picked. Though, everyone seemed to look down on her as if they all knew something she didn't – like the real reason behind why Boss had pushed her up here for example, which she still couldn't fathom.

Twisting her twin braids into a tight bun, she slipped on some tight-fitting garments, adding the customary billowing skirt that served to accustom her to the type of costume she'd wear. She'd learned so much in the last week; every night she'd repeat the moves she'd learnt over and over, just to shut the doubtful ones up. She was entirely capable of doing this – she'd repeat that to herself like a motto, keeping her chin down and managing to accept their choreographer's critique without taking it personally. Well. The first few days had been hard, and she'd done her share of sniffling in her dressing room, but there was no way she could get out of this so, might as well give it her all. She knew how to fight well enough – dancing might not come naturally, but she still knew certain moves thanks to her abilities with the staff.

If she'd known what it would entail for her to make the decision of simply hiring her body out… but she didn't have time for introspection. Ten minutes later she was out in the corridor, rotating one wrist to stretch the ligaments, and dabbing on some lip balm with her other hand. Several of the secondary dancers were in the corridor heading for the stage too, and they hardly even glanced at her, talking amongst themselves, some of them looking her up and down. She breathed in as she did every morning, firmly setting her mind on her objective of getting these damn moves and not taking any of their shit, as Hegemony would put it.

Hegemony. Simply thinking of the woman gave her a little pinch in the heart. At least now she understood why the woman had been slightly obsessed with her precious regular; he made love with such a passion. But she didn't have time to think about that! She shook her head as the familiar blush tickled her throat and cheeks upon thinking of such things in broad daylight – the double doors leading to the stage were straight ahead.

"Chimera?"

Aeris turned around in response to the strange feminine voice calling her name. She almost doubled back upon seeing the speaker – a woman was coming towards her, dressed in the same type of work garments as her, but there was a sheer femininity oozing from her every pore as she walked. Shapely legs moved, black leggings hugging every curve; her waist stretched as each hip undulated, shoulders back, chin up. She had black scales tattooed over her throat – and her face was almost painful to behold, it was so charismatic. The contours of her mouth were carved out in a deep red; prominent cheekbones underlined heavily painted almond-shaped eyes. That mouth twitched into a formal smile as the two women met, though it didn't stay there too long. She stopped in front of the flowergirl, mechanically extending a hand.

"Yes?" It was halfway between a confirmation and a question as Aeris took the woman's hand, feeling so small and mousey that it was a wonder she hadn't squeaked instead of spoken.

"Enchanted," the woman said, words twisted with an oddly familiar accent, "I'm Elapidae, your dance partner."

She really didn't want to be disrespectful in front of this goddess in human form but; "El – Ela – sorry?"

The woman smiled another of her polite smiles. "Call me Lapis."

The flowergirl frowned; to her, having a fake name automatically meant prostitute and not necessarily stage name, so she tried to acknowledge the woman without drawing any conclusions too hastily.

"Nice to meet you," she managed to stammer. The woman only nodded at her briefly before continuing towards the double doors with that regal stride of hers.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Aeris jogged after her, feeling completely silly. "Are we – are we finally going to start on the main choreography then?"

"I believe so."

They entered the stage together, Aeris wondering what on the Planet was in store for her – she'd thought her dance partner would be a man, but seeing how well-toned this woman's body was simply served as another reminder of just how far behind she was on all this dancing business. The director made both women work equally hard – Lapis being evidently well-trained, she was the one to adapt to Aeris and patiently construct her movements around her partner's blunders. They worked the entire day together, hardly even exchanging a word though their bodies came into a strange sort of communion with every exercise, so that they'd touched far more than spoken and thus come to a certain primal understanding of one another.

The day came to a close and Aeris hadn't had the chance to speak to that mysterious woman – but she didn't seemed very much inclined to get to know her, either. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, cracking her toes in her dressing room, the flowergirl bowed her head, sighing to expel the stress that the quickened working pace was making her feel. It would be alright. She'd gotten through much worse. She'd do well.

• • •

Wednesday.

Angeal had come back with his garrisons, having completely mastered the situation at the Launch Pad and not even adding much to the numbers at the Shinra hospital. The celebration of their return had been planned for days; all the First Class and military advisors had been offered a free evening at the Intra Meum cabaret.

Knowing that his childhood friend had been out there risking men's lives to clean up his mess was more than Genesis could handle. He'd been pacing about, reliving every possible scenario of the Launch Pad disaster, going through everything that he could've done, thoughts echoing the periodic rhythm of his palms slapping against his skull. His sleep pattern had become virtually non-existent, and his ever-present inferiority complex had grown to a monstrous size during the week. You'll never get up from this, it told him in that insidious, persuasive tone, Your chance at greatness was already hanging by a threat. Now it's gone. Nobody will ever trust you after this.

It had been his duty to see as many families as he could, personally informing them of the deaths of those who hadn't been brought back for medical care, whose deaths had been verified and accounted for once those in the hospitals had all been properly identified.

He could still feel the blows, the impact points singing with reminiscence of the bruises that he'd immediately healed. But the desperate violence of certain families hadn't generated even a fraction of the empathy he'd felt for those who took the news silently, sometimes falling to the ground and seeking comfort, sometimes retreating into themselves, yearning for the proper isolation to begin their mourning.

Sephiroth had told him not to put himself through the ordeal; but the damn General did it himself whenever he suffered casualties, so Genesis would never rebuke from a task that his betters took face-on. He wouldn't openly admit his weakness by refusing to do something that every First Class did out of principle, just because he had the choice to delegate the task to Second Class representatives. They all had that privilege, and almost none of them opted for the easier option. So there was no reason why he should. Except… his weakness. But that was far from a valuable reason.

He had never fancied himself a philanthropist, but it wasn't even for entirely empathic reasons that he needed to douse his senses with alcohol. He was probably going to drink himself silly at the Intra Meum to be able to face Angeal for an entire night – all the same, he already had a full glass of undiluted absinthe waiting for him on the kitchen table. Everything he'd worked for, everything he'd set out to accomplish - he could feel it all slipping through his fingers, along with the very definition of himself. The heavy glass in his hand seemed to compensate for the metaphorical slippage as the round butt weighed against his fingers, reassuringly concrete.

He was halfway through his wardrobe and halfway through his glass when there came a buzz at the door. The redhead almost tripped over himself turning around, wearing only low-cut jeans as he waded his way through the clothes that littered the floor, heading towards that red rectangle that kept dividing into two, sometimes three, before plunging back into one same rectangle again.

"Gen?"

There was white in the corner of his eye, and the redhead tried to shut the door on him.

"Get the fuck out," he rambled, but in his state he hardly stood a chance against the General's strength as Sephiroth smashed a forearm against the door, ripping it out of Genesis' grip and banging it wide open against the wall.

"Look, this new habit of wallowing in self-pity is getting really boring," the silver-haired man stated, stepping in as if he owned the place and practically pushing Genesis out of the way, "I thought the fact that we're going to see Angeal would discourage you from getting completely drunk before the evening has even started."

Rage seemed to prickle at Genesis' arms upon hearing the man's sanctimonious tone of voice – trust him to just waltz in here and rub it in my face - he all but threw himself at his friend in an attempt to kick him out, but then there were hands gripping his wrists painfully tight, and he lost control of his body. The next thing he knew, he was pinned to a wall with a hand spread over his face, and a ridiculously powerful pulse of magic went through him, ridding his mind of that blissful, drunken unconsciousness before he could even say anything. It was the queerest sensation to sober up in half a second – it always made him nauseous, and Sephiroth obligedly stepped back to leave him some room as he stumbled in his newfound clarity, knowing all too well how unpleasant it was to receive an Esuna spell when drunk.

"Ugh," Genesis said, bent over with arm clutching his belly, "I hate it when you do that."

"Maybe if you didn't get pissed every other evening, I wouldn't have to," the General snapped, clearly far more annoyed than compassionate. He'd been pretty understanding and had even displayed a rare tenderness when he'd found Genesis like this for the first time – the redhead wasn't in the habit of drinking except when under a considerable amount of stress. But ever since it had become a recurring situation these past few weeks Sephiroth had shown himself to be far less clement.

"Did you really pull out your Master-level Esuna just to tear me a new one?" Genesis groaned.

"I gave away the one I was raising. And besides I couldn't have settled for less since you've apparently taken a liking to – is that pure absinthe?" Sephiroth was at the kitchen table while Genesis fought back the urge to vomit, holding onto a nearby armchair for support. "What the fuck are you doing, Genesis. Seriously. You're just wasting good spirits."

"You're the one who wasted it," Genesis replied, "Sucking the effect clean out of my veins."

"Get dressed," his friend ordered him without further ado, "We're already late."

• • •

The entire dressing table's covered in pots of glitter, powders of a thousand colours, creams enhancing all possible shades of skin. I sit down a little shakily as everyone mills around me, repairing their costumes, doing up their make-up in the master dressing room. We have an hour ahead of us, so I pull my own costume across my knees, needle in hand in order to make it a little tighter across the chest – I'll have more than enough skin showing for the public to even notice accidental slip-ups, but I still want to be sure it'll cover me properly since the sizes are for proper cabaret girls and their generous bosoms. The needlework is soothing enough to take my mind off of the babble of dancers getting ready, the press of bodies around me, and most importantly – the company we'll be having tonight.

Lapis was supposed to tell me about the mission we have. Every day I wondered why on the Planet I had been hired here, though I was sure the motive would crop up at some point, so my motivation never wavered. Forget the political motives – professionally speaking this is as good an opportunity as any to get noticed and sign contracts that are to do with other types of physical work than sex work. It's kind of ironic that in the beginning the thought of anybody seeing me working outside of the Bee would completely paralyze me, but now I seem to be getting the knack of recognizing good professional opportunities. Especially seeing as those who want me probably don't expect to see me in these contexts, and I always wear too much make-up for them to recognize me anyway, unless they've seen me up close.

Anyway. I'm waiting for Lapis to show up so that I can start asking her why the hell she was keeping such a huge mission to herself. Though, Delaine kind of already told me over the phone when he called me. He'd been furious when he realized I wouldn't even have the time to properly prepare myself for it, psychologically speaking.

"I wanted to wish you good luck," he'd said upon calling me, "I find it very admirable of you to have stayed on the job, seeing what your Boss told me about the situation."

I obviously hadn't known what he was on about.

"Lapis hasn't told you? That money-grubbing bitch. I should've known." There'd been a sigh, all ragged and thick with mucus. "You were chosen thanks to your materia-wielding and combat abilities. But also because you've already been close to Sephiroth." He'd waited for that to sink in; I was too shaken upon hearing that name to reply. "We need you to seduce him again. You two are our very best choice for the job; you because of your history, Lapis because of her all-around efficiency. We need the man's blood."

I remember how I almost had a heart attack at this point. "What? You mean – you want us to kill him?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We just need a sample. I gave Lapis all the appropriate equipment. The context and manner of extraction will depend entirely on you."

"But- don't you have people on your side in the labs, or – I thought you were well connected?"

"I don't have to justify this to you," Delaine had said impatiently, "But since you were smart enough to make the connection, and I'm taking you off-guard with all of this, I'll tell you. Most of the people who were sympathetic to our cause have either been fired, or are under a significant amount of pressure from the heightened security of the ShinRa labs."

It hadn't been particularly smart of me. Seeing as I'm familiar with the labs, however horrid the experience was, I know exactly how thorough the scientists are with their specimens, how much information they keep on all their living projects. Hojo had taken samples of every piece of me that withheld any type of information about my body and being – I can't even begin to imagine the amount of samples he has of Sephiroth, whose growth is probably being monitored ever since he came out of the womb, synthetic or otherwise.

But it's not like Delaine or anybody else needs to know that. The question is, why on the Planet would anybody need a sample of Sephiroth's blood? And there should be ample occasions to gather it since he's always on military missions.

"I don't have time for so many questions," Delaine had said, "There are plenty of reasons why someone would want his blood. He's the origin of Soldier. And as for the rest, use that logic of yours. How much blood is there on a battlefield? Ask a forensics artist to pinpoint a single sample in a mess like that, and he'll probably add to it by shooting himself instead. As for the ShinRa Troops, they're far too loyal creatures for corruption. Ask Elapidae for details on the equipment- she has to tell you at least that much, though I wouldn't bother asking that woman for any type of help or cooperation. Have I made myself sufficiently clear?"

It was only then that I'd realized I'd let curiosity come first instead of voicing my raging protestation against the act of seducing the man who'd violated me. I knew it wasn't much use, but I'd tried anyway;

"You do know the last time I came into contact with that man…"

"Yes, I'm aware of what happened. I daresay it comes with the job," was all he'd answered. And then, as an afterthought; "I thought you were a slum girl?"
They all seem to think we're so damn tough. "But- "

"The time to feel sorry for yourself is over. You're my worker now. Ask Lapis if you want to hear stories of real violence. I'll leave you to get ready."
Reliving the conversation in my head makes me absently drive the needle into my finger, hard – I give a little yelp, withdrawing my hand and checking the fabric for any blood. The nerve of that man. I knew he was no good – but to just disregard something as dehumanizing as sexual assault, chalking it up as one of the inevitable consequences of prostitution…

"Be careful," says someone from the seat directly to my left – I look up, and see Elapidae herself, leaning in towards the mirror, twisting her hair up into our compulsory hairstyle. I hadn't noticed when she'd sat down - must've been too engrossed in my thoughts. Decorative pins are laid out in a neat line in front of her, and I sit there absently as she fastens them one by one in precise movements.

Rage builds at the back of my throat as I watch her, though I can't bring myself to disrespect such an intimidating person. We haven't spoken all that much in between rehearsals, since she always seems to disappear in the evenings, so I don't really know that much about her beyond her aesthetic preferences and dance background we talked about during practice.

"So when were you planning on telling me?" I positively growl at her.

She doesn't even stop in her movements, just smiles calmly and picks up another pin. "I thought you were already aware of the mission."
Yeah, right. Delaine told me the cash prize if we actually deliver the blood, so it's pretty obvious she just wanted it for herself. I decide not to aggravate her by calling her out on her apparent greed though – I'll definitely feel better if I know I can count on at least one person this evening to be an ally of sorts.
I'm wondering what question to ask her first as I put my finished costume to the side and start on my own hair - but she beats me to it.

"Ever since Delaine mentioned you, I've wanted to ask you how you did it."

Times like these are when I miss my Bee friends the most – they'd know what sounds like a trap, and what questions I can truthfully answer.
I decide to play it safe. "What did Delaine tell you, exactly?"

"That you're the only woman to have actually bedded him."

I twist my braids up a little violently. "It's not like he was a virgin when I had him." I'm not sure if she knows the whole story, but I certainly won't let her in on the fact that I was his victim, and not the other way around.

"You're the first paid woman, then."

The notion of his possible virginity hasn't even crossed my mind before now. I decide not to dwell on it since it would make the experience even more disturbing.

"How is he?"

I look over at her; she's checking her hairstyle in the mirror, hands posing on her tattooed chest, practically flirting with her reflection. "Guess you'll just have to find out."

"Oh, I intend to."

I know there's strictly no reason for me to be proud of my actions, and even less reason for me to envision going after Sephiroth (unless you count the sum that Delaine was proposing). But her sheer arrogance is giving me this prickling urge to better her if only to prove her wrong. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I don't want to do this.

"You're welcome to him, you know," I tell her, "The mission doesn't interest me at all. I won't stand in your way."

"Oh no, on the contrary. Where's the fun if there's no competition?"

I'm kind of… amazed. "You think having to extract a man's blood is fun?"

She finally looks at me, though her gaze is reprimanding. "Don't speak so loud. And yes. This type of mission is quite atypical. I'm looking forward to seeing you interact with him."

"I told you," I say, still wondering what kind of life she's had to practically consider this type of mission as play, "There'll be no interaction."

"Delaine paid us for a reason, you know. Think of the opportunities that'll arise in the business if you prove yourself a trustworthy agent."

I can't help thinking Turks as I hear her speak. Maybe she's an agent undercover? But after how Delaine spoke of her history of violence I'd thought she was a sex worker like me who'd just had a lot of political assignments. I decide to voice my thoughts;

"So have the Turks offered you a position yet or not?"

She laughs at this, reaching to start her make-up. "No, but I've considered it. Sadly, it doesn't pay as well as sex work, and I'm already tied up enough as it is without adding an inescapable bond with ShinRa."

Well, at least she's clear about it. Though I'm not sure I believe her about the paycheck. "But there must be some payback. And I'm sure they'd accept you, too - they wouldn't even have to teach you about materia or swordplay." I guessed that much during our repetitions; there are moments where we have to attack one another during the dance, and the stage director didn't even have to tell her what to do to adopt aggressive stances.

"Oh, there's no doubt they'd have me," Lapis says, still with that terrible smugness that sort of erases any type of compliment I might have wanted to make. "Speaking of which, you're quite affluent with magic, too. Might I ask how that happened?"

Ah. So she is interested in someone else than herself. I open my mouth with the usual excuse – it's a gift in my family – but the last time I used that on someone, it was in a context I really don't want to remember. I take a shortcut; "Roots."

"And are those roots embedded in the Northern Continent, by any chance?"

I spin around. Nobody knows that about me – not even Zack. "How did you - "

"I knew it," she smiles to herself, "Mine too. Which clan?"

"Clan?"

She looks at me again. "Oh, I'm sorry. I assumed that by roots, you meant you're descended from the older families, the Great Glacier nomads." Then she smiles at me. "But that's alright. I sedentarized too."

"No, you're right." I can't help admitting this much. "My people were nomads. Just not from the Glacier. But how did you guess where I'm from?"

"The only other natural materia-wielders I've met are either from the North, or Wutain," she explains, applying blue powder to her eyelids, "So there aren't many options to choose from." Her face is ghastly white with foundation, and as I look at her I can hardly believe I hadn't associated her appearance and natural abilities to those infamous nomads. My… my father would tell me scary stories sometimes, only to ingrain the idea of villainy so that he could use them as threats if I didn't want to take a bath or go to bed. Just thinking about that time when I'd forbidden myself to dwell on my childhood for so long, gives me this big rush of emotion – I turn away from her, fastening my own pins in my braids.

She notices this. "I understand your reaction. Townfolk weren't very… gracious, when we came down from the mountains."

"No, it's just – we all grew up with the idea that you were the boogeymen," I say, trying to smile so that she won't think I'm just another stubborn idiot – to my relief, she laughs that deep, reassuring laugh of hers.

"That's partly true in my case."

"But you said you'd met others? Sedentarized nomads?" It's silly to hope… but…

"I've only met one or two in Midgar," she tells me, "But when I lived in Modeoheim they were very noticeable. The authorities had to impose a law on the use of materia to protect its citizens from us – if they hadn't treated us like dirt we wouldn't have resorted to magic. But there you are."

"That's amazing," I say, slicking my own white facepaint over my cheekbones; she looks at me questioningly. "I mean, it must take guts to get from a nomadic lifestyle to living on the Plate and seeing the most important members of ShinRa on a daily basis."

"You're no stranger to that," she tells me, "You're here, aren't you?"

I breathe in, wondering what to tell her now that we've found a source of complicity. "I didn't choose to leave the Northern Continent." It's been so long since I spoke about this. Don't cry you silly girl, don't cry - "I was really young when I left, so…"

She seems to have a gift of empathy, deciding not to make me go any further. Or maybe her quota of curiosity has been used up. In any case, she stops what she's doing, nods her head at me a little stiffly and says, "I'm glad to have met another Northern girl."

"Does that mean you're open for collaboration?" I don't really know how else to ask. Her eyebrows rise in a condescending arch as she looks at me.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think I need your help. And as for the cash, would you really settle for half?"

"No, it's fine," I say, a little stung about her comment. I thought her arrogance had only been a first impression; but apparently not. "I told you anyway, I'm not particularly interested in the mission."

"It's your choice. You'll only be making it easier for me, and if you're alright with that…" She's brushing blue glitter over her brow and across her temples. "If there's any problem though, you can count on me."

"Thanks." I bloody well hope there won't be any problems. I take my own brush and pot of red glitter, starting on my eyes. "Same goes for you."

• • •

The pair was a sight to see as they stepped out of their chauffeured car; Sephiroth in a smart black tailored suit, open on a white shirt; Genesis in a cream number covering a dash of crimson, both of them striding confidently in the flashing lights of the journalists as though there was nothing wrong. Genesis seemed to be doing his best to ignore the harsh, shouted questions, the accusations that burst from the journalists' mouths; he kept his eyes on Sephiroth's long white mane in front of him, concentrating on the repression of all murderous instinct.

Angeal was waiting for them both among the haggle of guests at the sprawling entrance of the Intra Meum; upon seeing them his rugged face broke into a grin, and he practically pawed his way through the rich guests to get to his fellows. Sephiroth responded with a smile, grunting as he was practically knocked over by the larger man's one-armed embrace.

"Here I was thinking we might have more time to wreak chaos," Sephiroth said as Angeal let go of him with a companionable pat on the shoulder.

"Too bad," the Soldier grinned back, turning to his childhood friend. Genesis was looking at him almost aggressively, as though daring him to start making accusations, too. The two shared a long gaze, before the older man gathered his friend into the same embrace, though he held onto this one for a while longer.

"It's alright," Angeal muttered, and Genesis frowned, bringing up his free arm to tighten his hold on the man.

"Thank you," the redhead muttered back, while Sephiroth stepped nonchalantly between them and the reporters who were sneaking a few cameras towards them.

"Mr Hewley! Mr Hewley!"

"No questions, please," Sephiroth called out to them, nerve ends tingling as always when dealing with news reporters.

"Are you glad to reunite with Mr Hewley?"

"Of course I am. Put that away, please."

"How do you feel about the supposition of demoting Mr Rhapsodos to Second Class?"

Just as he was opening his mouth, Genesis had walked up to the reporter and laid a hand on the expensive camera – electricity erupted from his palm into the instrument, causing its inner structure to explode in a mess of sparks and fumes.

"He said no questions," he reminded them, the use of raw magic jarring slightly with the impression of civility that his pretty suit gave off.

"Wha – oh my God - do you know how expensive this is - " The cameraman's voice was hoarse, and just as there was a growing clamour among the journalists Angeal seemed to grab the two Firsts by the scruffs of their necks and drag them into the cabaret proper.

•

The interior was like a great black dome, built a little like a baroque theatre with balconies running along the walls – though the balconies were much larger in order to accommodate tables and mini-stages. The main stage arched across the glittering cabaret floor, so that every table could have the privilege of proximity. In reality the balconies weren't made for the view, but rather for private discussions – too many curtains and candelabras stood in the way of a decent visibility of what was happening down below.

The First Class, of course, had been given some of the best seats, closest to the stage. Shafts of light speared through the smoke, sweeping across tabletops and the oily surface of their liquor. The light broke up according to the movements of the strippers on the main stage – they snaked their arms up and around their bodies, trapping the light, enslaving it so that it could only serve as embellishment of their curves. It became a shifting geometry – corners cutting into their waists, parallelism pouring between their fingers.

A heady bass rhythm guided the strippers' movements, pummeling the pit of every man's stomach with a forced arousal. Genesis hadn't thought that a mere erotic setting with a few naked women thrown in would succeed in taking his mind off of what had been plaguing him, but the sheer opulence of the place proved those certitudes wrong. He ended up staring like the rest of the first timers, mouth parted and eyes glittering with admiration. There was one thing that he couldn't quite get his head around, though: the fact that he had to associate Aeris with a place like this. He kept expecting to see her face when the girls looking for clients to bring up above sidled past him. She hadn't exactly been at the forefront of his mind this past week, so the expectancy to see those rosy cheeks and green eyes suddenly made him realize he hadn't even told Sephiroth she'd be here. The decision of whether or not to remedy that hardly even took him two seconds though - it was just too tempting to see the man's reaction when he saw her, instead of just telling him outright to expect her.

There had been no strict seating arrangements, so First Class men and women kept milling around shouting over their shoulders at one another. Once Genesis had joined his two friends and a few other Soldiers at a table, he and his comrades didn't budge - those who had stayed in Midgar were all listening to the recounted strategies of those who'd helped take the Launchpad back. His shoulders were bunched up, elbows on the table as he tried to concentrate on the conversation rather than the writhing bodies all around.

"Genesis!"

An open hand suddenly smacked his shoulder and he found himself jumping out of his skin. Upon turning he saw that Zack was towering over him, wearing black tie regalia and an enormous grin.

"How was your holiday?"

… was the boy suicidal, or did he really think that Genesis would take that as a joke? The redhead forced a smile, blue lights flashing on his teeth.

"Busy. How was your abstinence?"

"Did me some good, I suppose," Zack said rather cheerfully.

"To be away from Aeris did you some good?" Genesis caught on, "You definitely overvalue yourself."

"What?"

"Well, the girl's charitable enough to have given you some space in her life, and you still manage to be so ungrateful?"

Zack frowned as though this confused him somehow – before realization apparently dawned on his face and he opened his mouth, searching for an appropriate response. But the redhead was already laughing.

"You don't deserve that girl. She's so terribly sweet."

Zack's mouth closed and thinned into a suspicious line. "You met her once and still manage to decide that she's too good for me, huh?"

"I might've seen her around."

"What d'you mean, around?"

"Well, you know her. She's pretty sociable, isn't she?"

"You tell me!"

"Stealing from another man's plate, Gen?" Sephiroth's baritone voice cut through their banter smoothly; he was pushing a chair between his and Angeal's to accommodate their younger friend. "I thought you were better than that."

"I'm only as good as you are," the redhead countered, absently contemplating the double-meanings that only he could understand, before reaching for his phone. He hadn't realized that Zack would be there - and seeing as his little arrangement with Aeris was based on the agreement that Zack wouldn't know a thing of her nightly occupations, it would be the right thing to do to give her a heads-up.

•

"Hello?"

"Good evening. Ready for the show?"

Aeris blanched a little upon hearing that voice; it seemed to cancel out all that had happened since that emotionally saturated night. She could almost smell the rain and red wine again over the phone.

"Mostly ready."

"Good. We have a minor problem."

"Genesis, it's sweet of you to call but, I really don't need more things to worry about right now."

"Sweet?" he echoed her wonderingly before continuing; "I was calling you to see how you want me to remove that potential extra bit of stress, rather than to just let you know and vanish while it eats you up. I did have a heart last time I checked."

"Hm. Not sure about that," Aeris grinned, "Soldiers get those surgically extracted, don't they?"

"Very clever. Then again I might have a block of condensed Mako instead of the regular blood ball, but it has the same functions."

"I'm pretty sure ShinRa would be mining it out of you if that were the case. Maybe that's the whole point of Soldier – a living, breathing materia mine!"

Less than an hour ago, Genesis hadn't thought he'd ever laugh again for at least several months – but there he was, sitting phone in hand and practically giggling, which naturally attracted a surprised glance from the man who'd been helping to keep his depression at bay for the past week. "You know, you're being alarmingly intuitive. We should change the subject before you guess all of ShinRa's secrets and get condemned for it." At this point Sephiroth looked downright anxious – the redhead shook his head at him as reassurance before getting up to have more privacy.

"I thought the point was to remove the stress, and not add to it?"

"Yes! Yes, sorry. I wanted to ask you – how are things going with Zack?"

Zack. Right. It suddenly struck her that he'd be here since Angeal had come back – Gaia, why hadn't it occurred to her before? The answer was easy – imminent blood work didn't really help her think straight. Aeris sucked in a breath, closing her eyes and trying to remember how Zack fitted into the whole darn mess again. It was all about keeping Zack's reputation as a Soldier immaculate. Though, she was sort of running on guesses here – she hadn't taken the time to talk to him about it, what with the sudden affluence of Upperworld bookings, and Sephiroth, and then him buggering off to the Launch Pad… But in any case, there was one thing she could say that would take all weight away from Genesis' threat.

"He still doesn't know that I'm a sex worker. But, Genesis." She paused – maybe this was a stupid thing to say, maybe she hadn't thought it through enough but… her emotions were so highly strung that she felt that it was right, that it was what she'd wanted to tell him since that improbable night.
She knew he didn't seem trustworthy. But, was that quite right? She could trust him to get her involved in all sorts of luxurious bookings and make the most of her current job. More importantly though, she could trust him to remain faithful to his funny old self. He was sensitive, and he had his own weaknesses, which she'd been privy to despite their more than dubious bond. She wasn't quite sure how it had happened but, that bond did exist, however odd it was. She could feel it, feel its potential, and guess at how far it could go. All she needed to do, was let him know that he could trust her just as much.

"You don't need to blackmail me with Zack any more. I want to help you."

To her disappointment, Genesis let out a surprised laugh. "Doesn't the fact that I was actually blackmailing you disqualify me from that kind of privilege?"

"Well, you've brought me more good than bad."

"You're calling this Stockholm Syndrome thing good?"

His refusal was making her blood sing – why was it so complicated to communicate with the damn man? "Okay, okay, I take it back! Crisis! Just – chuck him out then, seems obvious enough."

"Aeris - "

"No, I have to get ready." Part of her couldn't believe that she was talking back to him but, her nerves were all awry and he wasn't exactly helping things. She'd deal with the disappointment later.

"Aeris."

There was something about the way he said her real name that made everything go still – it was like fear, or the primal acknowledgement of domination. She gripped her phone, listening.

"As much as your offer is flattering, you haven't thought it through properly. What I need you to do, is be a part of Sephiroth's life. And something tells me you won't go there willingly, am I right?"

Willingly. She was reminded of Delaine, telling her that she should be tough enough for the mission he'd given her. That she hardly had a choice in the matter anyway. It seemed as though she were stuck in the strangest of crossroads –unwilling to hurt him, but also unwilling to be in a professional relationship with him. The two things that, ironically, she was being paid to do. There was a clash of principles in her mind that made her completely neutral to the situation for the moment - but it was all theory, in the end. Maybe once she'd see him again in the flesh, the murderous impulse would rise – or maybe it would be the old will to be appreciated by him, despite everything he'd done. Or maybe she would just want him to disappear from her life so that she didn't have to worry about how to best profit from the situation even when the mere mention of his name jangled her nerves like winter bells.

"I don't know, Genesis," she finally whispered, "I really don't know."

"This wasn't the subject, you – you really don't need to think about that now," he tried to soothe her, "I just wanted to ask you what you want me to do about Zack."

"No." It seemed obvious to her now, what his intention had been – and her disappointment was making her irritable. They were all the same, them and their money and their facetiousness. "You didn't need to ask me anything, since you were just going to chuck Zack out anyway. You only called to remind me that you're the game master here."

"You're wrong. And, this isn't exactly a game."

"Yes it is. You said it yourself – that I was just a pawn." She overrode him when he tried to interrupt her; "But you're not the only one who controls me, Genesis."

When she slapped her phone shut, Lapis was standing nearby, a tall silhouette framed by an imposing headdress of ice-blue chocobo feathers dripping with pearls and liquid silver. Every inch of her, from the glittering cabaret shoes to the lean limbs and proud attitude - everything seemed to scream superiority, and yet she was staring at her partner with something like consideration in her eyes.

"Everything alright?"

Aeris got up, getting rid of the stress in one sharp exhale before returning the smile.

"Yep. Let's go."

• • •