-x-
The next few days merged into an incoherent blur. Every time Elena woke she would look at the clock, just visible on the wall opposite her and along to the right. It was a useless exercise, though, since she had no idea what day it was and often whether it was the small hours of the morning or mid-afternoon. All she knew for certain was that she slept most of the time away and that, slowly, she was beginning to feel more human. A vague sense of boredom was nagging at her, reassuring her that she must have been on the mend; up until now, she had been too tired and far too sore to feel anything remotely within the regions of boredom. And she was still sore, in more ways than one.
Reno had dropped by yesterday, or at least it felt like yesterday. She wasn't entirely sure but if she had counted correctly, it had been more than twelve hours ago. He didn't stay long but it had been nice to see him all the same. A face that was more than familiar, someone who wasn't there to change dressings or to check everything was in order. Apparently things had gone quiet for the moment as far as the Remnants were concerned; the calm before the storm to paraphrase Reno's opinion. His theorising had involved shit and a fan. She remembered how reluctant he had been to mention the subject, and how sympathetically he looked at her when she had brought it up.
Reno's usual strategy was to joke and make light of the unpleasant side of the job but clearly even he felt that such an approach would have been inappropriate with Elena. It was almost maddening when all she wanted was for some kind of normality to return; for Reno to be the Reno who would quip that only a rookie could end up as she had. She had to admit, however, that the very thought of Yazoo and his brothers made her pulse quicken uncomfortably and Reno was probably right to skirt round the subject in her presence. At least it would save her from embarrassing herself by having some kind of panic attack in front of him. Elena had had a few scrapes in the past, some nearer the knuckle than others but none as close as this one. To describe herself as shaken up would have been an understatement; rocked to the core was nearer the mark. The Remnants were in a whole league of their own compared to Shinra's usual adversaries and the sense of powerlessness she had felt at their hands lingered with her like some kind of curse. Yazoo's was a face that would stay with her for a very long time.
Tseng she had not seen since he had come to the hospital to give Lara the medical section of her file. Clearly he had better things to do. Her pride advised her, unconvincingly, that Tseng could go stuff himself. Elena wondered miserably if it was just sour grapes on her part; even after his last visit, she still wanted to see him.
A noise at the door to her room, to which she had been moved that morning, caught her attention. Someone was fumbling with the door handle. Before she had time to even think about it, Elena felt her body tense and she was tempted to reach for something – anything – that would serve as a weapon. It was a split second reaction, entirely involuntary. As rationality caught up with instinct it warned her that she was overreacting, that her subconscious was yet to fully calm down after the whole ordeal.
The door opened slowly and Dionne entered the room. Elena took a moment to make sure that it really was her sister, given that it had been well over a year since they had last seen one another in the flesh.
Physically, she hadn't changed much. Her hair was longer, her face had matured on some level – mostly in the eyes, Elena thought. There was a sincerity to them that hadn't been there before. Either that, or Elena simply hadn't noticed it.
"I wasn't sure you'd be awake," Dionne began. Her smile was all nerves; too quick, not radiating as far as her eyes. Elena wondered how it was that a smile could make someone look so sad. Dionne remained by the door, as if awaiting an invitation to progress any further. "I um, I came by yesterday but you were sleeping."
Her nervousness was almost tangible. This was not the Dionne Elena had last spoken to about a week ago, on the eve of her wedding; the woman who had flatly told her that she was not invited because their parents did not want her there. If it had pained her at all to say it, it certainly hadn't shown, leading Elena to think that Dionne did not want her there either but just didn't have the spine to say so.
And looking at her now, as different as she was, brought all those feelings right back. Elena became suddenly self-conscious, lying there like she was on display. She could see Dionne's eyes looking at her injuries more than at her. The tightness across the parts of her face that were bruised and scraped crescendoed into throbbing as her heart pounded uncomfortably in her chest, which in turn brought her awareness back to the dull ache in her shoulder.
"What…" Elena began, clearing her throat. She had no idea what to say. Dionne's unexpected arrival had caught her completely off-guard. "Why are you here?" She fixed her eyes on Dionne's, not even making an effort to appear composed or unaffected. There was no venom or accusation in her tone. She didn't have the energy for a start, and she hoped that honesty would breed honesty. Elena didn't care that the rawness was there in her eyes for all to see.
"Elena," Dionne shook her head, approaching the solitary chair beside the bed. She was looking at Elena with concern, just like everyone else had been doing lately. Something about the way she moved – quickly at first, and then hesitantly as she drew closer – made Elena think that Dionne had not come to make life difficult. "I wanted to see that you were all right."
Elena looked at her in disbelief.
"You mean you're going to go home and report to our parents that I'm still alive. I'm surprised they even want to know."
Dionne lowered herself into the chair, her head bowed, jaw locked.
"I'm here because I was – am – worried about you," she said levelly.
"Right," Elena nodded, swallowing. She shifted herself up awkwardly in the bed using her left arm, trying to sit up a bit more so that Dionne was looking straight at her rather than down at her. Elena wanted to believe what she was hearing but the wounds were just that little bit too fresh. "So we'll just forget about our last conversation then, shall we?"
Dionne sucked her lips into her mouth, her glassy eyes looking up at the ceiling. Elena could not recall the last time she had seen Dionne anywhere near this emotional. Perhaps she really had been worried.
"I know 'sorry' isn't going to cut it and I don't blame you," Dionne nodded. "I've always taken their side against you… I should have gone with what I wanted – and I did want you there at the wedding. I just—" she shook hear head again. "I don't really have an excuse, Elena. It's… gods, I'll be the first to admit it's very fucking messed up that it's taken this to happen for me to do this, but I want things to change and this is the only way I know how to start. I want to try to make things right."
Elena sighed, annoyed at how shaky it was. She wanted to cynically caution her sister against being so earnest in case, through the strain, she hurt herself. Or broke something. But as much as she was not inclined to take Dionne seriously, through habit more than anything else, it was impossible to ignore the candour in what she said, and in the way she said it. Not to mention that these were things that Elena had wanted to hear Dionne say for years. Elena knew, however, that she too was not entirely blameless in all of this. She had made things difficult for Dionne at times, mostly unintentionally, sometimes very intentionally. She had been jealously competitive and resentful towards her sister, all of which had played a part in deepening the wedge between them. But Elena was not ready for that conversation yet.
"What about your honeymoon?" Elena asked. It was a change of subject.
"We've postponed it for a bit. I couldn't just go off without a care in the world when I found out you were in such a bad way. Besides, you could do with some support and I intend to be there for you."
"Since when have I—" Elena began. Her voice might have been weaker than normal but there was a deliberate strength to her tone.
"Fine – I need to be there for you now," Dionne corrected herself. "So will you humour me, just this once?"
Elena almost managed a smile, a vague tightening of her lips as though she were unsure of whether she liked the taste of this or not. She hadn't said 'yes' but then she hadn't said 'no', either, which was an improvement of sorts on the death glares and snide rejoinders that were par for the course in their relationship. This was going to take time for both of them, that much was clear, but that Dionne was trying to make amends was a start.
Before anyone could say anything else, cordial or otherwise, the door opened. The look of surprise on Elena's face prompted Dionne to twist in her chair to see who it was.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," said Rufus, looking at Elena. He was leaning on his crutch in the doorway, supporting arm straight and wedged against the length of his torso to give the illusion that he was standing more or less upright. Elena wondered if the Geostigma was getting worse. "I can come back."
His good eye was deeply serious, his mouth an inanimate line. It was clear that he meant it, even if it was also clear that he would have preferred to speak to Elena now rather than later. This was more than a social call.
"No, no," Dionne said quickly, rising from her seat. Rufus' attention switched to her, his unbandaged eye narrowing contemplatively. "I should be going." She avoided looking at the President as she gathered her bag from the floor and put the thin leather strap over her shoulder. She looked at Elena once more, meeting her gaze this time. "I meant what I said, Elena."
Elena blinked in a gesture of agreement. "I know." Dionne dipped her head, eyes lingering on her sister's until she turned and made for the door.
"President Shinra," she acknowledged Rufus, pausing only a moment as she drew level with him.
"Ms Becker," Rufus gave a respectful nod, his gaze following her out of the room. "So," he said, closing the door after Dionne and moving somewhat labouredly towards Elena. "How are you feeling? Dr Stein tells me you're making progress."
"Not too bad," Elena replied, a polite smile hovering at her lips. Just so long as I don't move, or breathe, she thought to herself. The way Rufus smiled dimly with understanding told her that he had heard that thought. "Thank you, sir."
Rufus rested his crutch against the wall and, carefully, lowered himself to the plastic chair, using both hands to position his afflicted right leg. One corner of his mouth twitched, his jaw set. He was in pain.
"Are you all right, sir?" Elena frowned. She could not sit forward to help him as she would have done ordinarily. Rufus nodded dismissively, taking a deep breath and running a meticulous hand through his hair, checking that all was in place.
"I believe it is I who should be thanking you, Elena – for your loyalty," he said, smiling. For a moment, it came across as entirely genuine. One corner of his mouth then dropped a fraction, and something about that smile reminded Elena of a salesman; there was a catch to this somewhere. "On the subject of which," he continued, eyebrows raised as though an idea had just struck him when it was more likely that he had been brooding over it for some time. "There is something I need to ask of you."
Rufus did not elaborate straight away, instead taking a moment to run his eye over the Turk in front of him. Something in his face faltered as he did, only slightly, but it did not escape Elena's notice. Was he having second thoughts about whatever it was he had come to say?
"I want you to understand that this is by no means an order," he said, staring at what was visible of the bandaging covering her chest wound. Elena was tempted to pull the neck of her hospital gown higher but she didn't quite have the nerve to even move under the President's gaze. Besides, there was plenty more to look at that she couldn't cover up unless she hid under the blankets, which was not an altogether unappealing idea when Rufus was apparently unsettling himself, let alone her. "Rather, it's a request from a man who has little other choice and who needs someone he can trust."
"I'm listening," Elena encouraged him, sensing that he was waiting for a response of some sort. Wasn't this the sort of conversation he would normally be having with Tseng?
Rufus inhaled audibly and leant back in his chair, self-assuredness returning. It was never absent for very long.
"I would prefer to keep this just between ourselves," he said. Elena inwardly braced herself. This was going to be interesting at the very least.
-x-
A thick blanket of grey storm clouds lingered over Edge, as if they too were lying in wait for something to happen. The distance to the ground some seven floors below made Tseng feel vaguely nauseous but still he stared downwards from the rooftop with merciless conviction, past the tip of his shoe which was protruding an inch or two over the edge of the building's exposed metal framework. Like many of the constructions in Edge, this one was yet to reach completion. The basic structure was in place, though it was very much a shell of concrete and steel. A short distance behind Tseng were dormant air conditioning units, the pipe work for the ventilation system yet to be finished. The dark, brushed metal of the units' housing would work to his advantage, he thought; dressed in his dark Turk suit he would be difficult to detect against the camouflaging backdrop of pipes and metal, should Kadaj look down from the thirteenth floor of next building, where he was meeting with Rufus.
The building where Tseng had been positioned for the past quarter of an hour was part of a larger development of three, arranged in a cluster along one of the major roads in Edge. The tallest of the trio, where Rufus was with Kadaj, was centred between the other two and set back a little farther from the street, so that the silhouette of the complex was roughly triangular. Once complete, the site would form Shinra's new headquarters.
Tseng's attention was drawn upwards as a blue bolt of light shot across the sky, emanating from the thirteenth floor of the main building. It was a summon, directed too far into the distance to be aimed at the President. Edge city centre was clearly the intended target. Tseng thought of Reno and Rude but it was too late to warn them. Bahamut Sin was already descending from the clouds like the embodiment of damnation, leering at the city beneath it as though it were already victorious. Without intervention, it soon would be. As much as the summon literally was a bolt from the blue, Tseng had half been expecting Kadaj to do something… drastic. A show of force. A demonstration of power to the man who had once ruled the world and who was well on his way to doing so again. Rufus was proud enough not to feel too intimidated. Had that sentiment even had a place in Rufus' emotional vocabulary, other than as something he inflicted on other people, he would not be having such a cosy heart-to-heart with Kadaj now.
Tseng adjusted the grip on the weapon in his hand, ready to use it at less than a moment's notice. If he was lucky, that was all the time he would have. It was a harpoon gun of sorts, designed to release a safety net with a spearhead attached. The compact size of the weapon meant that the surface area of the net was limited to a long but narrow strip, and it was therefore imperative that the shooter's aim was nothing short of impeccable if he wanted the piece to fulfil its purpose. Of equal importance was the presence of a second operative, who would fire the gun's twin from the opposite direction. One net alone was seldom strong enough to catch a grown man falling from a reasonable height; the support of two nets that overlapped one another in the middle was far more reliable.
Bahamut's braying roar suddenly jumped an octave or two in pitch, sounding more like a strangled squeal than the threatening tones it had been bellowing for a considerable while. It was in pain. Tseng broke his attention from the thirteenth floor briefly to look towards the city centre. He smiled; so Cloud's friends had finally cajoled him into rediscovering his backbone. There was hope for the world yet.
Tseng faced into the development once more so that the tallest of the structures, where Rufus was meeting with Kadaj, was ahead of him and to the left. He looked across to the rooftop of the building opposite, roughly seventy-five metres away, narrowing his eyes to search for signs of his anonymous partner. He knew that the other agent ought to have been directly across from himself. But just as he was, the other operative would not be easy to spot against the city foliage of pipes and metal.
Why Rufus felt the need to be so secretive about the whole thing was beyond Tseng. As per the plan, Reno and Rude were occupied with distracting Yazoo and Loz, who had arrived in Edge a short while ago under the impression that Jenova was hidden in the Midgar Memorial, a few blocks away. That left Kadaj to meet Rufus alone on the thirteenth floor of the main building, having been lured there with a phone call from the President himself. When Tseng inquired about who would partner him on the mission, taking Elena's place, Rufus had nonchalantly replied that he would be taking care of it. Naturally, Tseng had his concerns about the matter; Rufus was gambling with his life on this mission and Tseng wanted assurances that the other shooter was capable. Trustworthy. And Rufus, for all his noble evolutions of conscience in the time since Meteor, was not a selfless martyr willing to die for the cause. Tseng was under no illusions about that, which made him suspicious of Rufus' casual attitude towards ensuring his own safety. Rufus had stipulated that the matter was not up for discussion, only serving to deepen the Turk's misgivings.
Tseng sighed in a subconscious and futile effort to relieve some of the tension in his chest. He wondered if he should have pressed Rufus harder to share the identity of the other operative. Had it been someone from Security, the President would surely have mentioned it. What reason was there not to? It struck him as a highly unprofessional, careless way of running things, especially for Rufus. But perhaps Tseng had just forgotten what it was like to be in his early twenties and still susceptible to the enticing pull of recklessness. Hell, Reno was nearing thirty and wasn't showing any signs of improvement on that score. It was at times like these that Tseng suddenly felt ancient at the age of thirty-six.
Admittedly there was a part of him that wished Elena were partnering him on this mission. Things would be a lot less worrisome if she were. He knew never to underestimate a good partner, one who could be relied upon to complete the job as well as have your back. Elena ticked both those boxes. But Elena wasn't here now, and Tseng wouldn't have it any other way. Elena was too indispensable to drag back to work before she was good and ready.
A long awaited movement on the opposite rooftop caught the Turk leader's attention. A figure was moving slowly across to the right, walking backwards in the direction of the street whilst looking up at the main building, no doubt keeping an eye on the thirteenth floor and for any signs of Rufus, or Kadaj, nearing the edge. Tseng found himself following the figure's line of sight briefly. Thus far, there was no sign of either. When he returned his focus to the opposite structure, the figure was standing in front of one of the air conditioning units. It was only at that point that he realised just who it was. Blond hair was prominent against the dark metal, the hairstyle a short bob cut, fluttering mildly in the breeze. Tseng would have recognised her anywhere. He did not want to believe what his every instinct was screeching at him but it was almost irrefutable now that she was walking out into the open, her feminine figure coming into view as she moved away from the obscurity of the air conditioning housing, gun visible in her left hand.
Elena. What on Gaia was Rufus thinking?
Well, truth be told, following Rufus' line of thought was not in the least bit challenging. He had needed someone he could trust, and someone who was a hundred times better than a simple good shot. Had she been fit, Tseng would have chosen Elena for the job above Reno or Rude in a heartbeat, purely on the grounds that she was a better marksman and they were better suited to dealing with Yazoo and Loz at close range. Tseng realised he was shaking his head. He was unaware that she had even been discharged from the hospital. Elena had had less than two weeks to recover, not to mention that the wound in her chest area directly compromised her effectiveness in this mission; according to Lara's report it would be a while before Elena could return to normal duties, for she had weeks of rehabilitation ahead of her before she would regain full use of her right arm. The bullet had damaged the muscles in her anterior shoulder.
How in the world was she going to fire a gun with such a notoriously jarring recoil, let alone pull it off with any accuracy? Tseng massaged his brow anxiously, trying to calm his mind enough stay focussed on the task at hand. Anger did not even begin to cover what the sight of Elena on the opposite rooftop stirred in him but he would have to save it for later. He had no other choice but to trust Elena, as Rufus had chosen to, no matter how much his concern for her wellbeing was doing its best to interfere.
It was fortunate that Tseng had kept the main building within his peripheral vision otherwise he would never have seen Rufus step up to the edge, the black box containing Jenova in one hand. His long white coat flapped in the wind, his body a pillar of strength compared to the fabric of his clothes. The President had never looked more solid.
Tseng took aim at the concrete level with the sixth floor of the main building, as planned. Elena, it appeared, had done the same, both hands curled around her gun with her arms out straight. They both looked up at Rufus, waiting.
Tseng had to stop himself from shooting reflexively as Rufus tossed the box into the air but remained standing as he was. The Turk knew, however, that it would not be long now.
A ball of fire shot from Kadaj's outstretched hand, narrowly missing Rufus who, with a calm sense of self-assuredness, tilted beyond his centre of balance and over the edge, his upper body leading him. His gun was drawn and he began discharging round after round, first at Kadaj and then, as the Remnant joined him in his freefall, at the box containing Jenova's head.
And still Tseng waited, his heart thudding ever louder in his head until it was the only thing he could hear. There was no room for error or mistiming. The net would only be strong enough for Rufus; if Kadaj became entangled, things would go downhill faster than terminal velocity.
Tseng fired first, Elena less than a second later. In the moment afterwards, Rufus' body plummeted into the net. Kadaj kept going, somehow catching up with the box and cradling it protectively in his arms before landing on the street below with an impossible grace that was about ninety-nine percent smugness, and one percent relief. Tseng closed his eyes. The first part of plan had failed, but the President was safe.
-x-
His trench coat was sitting lopsidedly on his shoulders and his hair was well and truly windswept but, for once, Rufus did not seem to care. He placed his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. His usually sickly pale cheeks were glowing healthily. It wouldn't last but, for a little while, Rufus was his former self. Tseng would almost have said he had found the whole thing something of a thrill. At the very least, it had clearly made him feel alive.
"Reno, Rude," said Rufus, still a little breathless. "It's time for Plan B. You know what to do."
"Yes, sir," Rude replied, already turning to leave for the helicopter. Reno wheezed, having just helped Rufus down from the safety net. Blood was still trailing from his nose after his fight with Yazoo and Loz.
"Got it," he grumbled. His reluctance brightened, however, as he appeared to remember just what Plan B entailed. "Let's see how these fuckers like a bit of dynamite stuffed up their rear ends."
Rufus ran a hand through his hair, fingers tentatively gliding over his bandaged forehead. He looked up eventually, his eyes locking onto Tseng's as if to demand why the Turk leader had been staring at him.
"Something the matter?" he asked, with a naivety that was just a little bit too forced.
"Yes," Tseng replied, tone on the clipped side of deferential. "Elena."
"Ah," Rufus nodded vaguely. Ah could cover a multitude of sins, yet Tseng sensed a quiet guilt in Rufus' voice. "I didn't mention it to you before because I knew you wouldn't agree."
"And with good reason," Tseng replied.
"I know you don't approve, and you're probably quite right, but I needed someone I could trust to do the job and I trusted her above all the other options for this mission, which is why I requested that she help me. I didn't order her to do anything."
Rufus' eyes became shifty as he spoke the last part of his sentence. Tseng knew Rufus knew what was coming but said it anyway.
"She's a loyal Turk who tries too hard. Of course she was going to say yes to your 'request'," Tseng said bluntly, his eyes narrowing into a you-know-as-well-as-I-do look.
Rufus pulled his lips into a wry smile. It was mildly heartening to see that it took him some effort to achieve.
"Your concern for your subordinate is very commendable, Tseng. I imagine Elena will be very touched."
Tseng stiffened, gut clenching uncomfortably.
"You seem to misunderstand, sir," he replied calmly. "My concern is more that you made a decision to put your life in the hands of a compromised operative. The consequences for you could have been fatal."
Rufus' gaze shifted suddenly to focus on some point behind Tseng. The Turk leader waited a few moments, the slow but utterly mortifying realisation creeping up on him that someone – and not just anyone – was behind him. He pivoted smoothly to see Elena standing a short distance away. She was cradling her right elbow in her left hand, forearm bent across her body. The wounded expression on her face, however, likely had very little to do with any physical discomfort.
"Yes, well, her shot was dead on, Tseng, as evidenced by the fact that I'm still here. So it seems the risk paid off," Rufus muttered. "And as much as I appreciate your concern, let's not forget who calls the shots around here, shall we?" Before Tseng could say a word, Rufus had shifted his focus to Elena and raised his voice to address her.
"Elena," he spoke up. "I'm most grateful for your assistance."
"You're welcome, sir," Elena gave a subdued nod, reluctantly tearing her eyes from Tseng.
Tseng swallowed and turned back to face Rufus. He could feel the prickling heat rising through his neck and into his face.
"Right, well," Rufus began, clearing his throat. "I suggest that you both take the other helicopter and assist Reno and Rude. With Bahamut taken care of and the Remnants heading out of town, I'm sure I'll be just fine without you for a while. If all goes to plan, which I'm sure it will, I'll see you all at the rendezvous point within the next hour."
-x-
It was on occasions such as these that Elena sincerely wished she was not so transparent. Putting to one side the fact that her rain-soaked blouse was leaving a little less to the imagination than was entirely dignified, it was emotional transparency that Elena was more preoccupied with. Her suit jacket at least took care of the blouse issue but the other matter was not so fortunate. Why could she not be one of those people who reacted with insulted arrogance, or outraged indignation? Or, better still, good old-fashioned indifference? Something along those lines would suit a Turk so much more than the kicked-puppy look that had come over her back in Edge earlier that day, when she had interrupted Tseng and Rufus' little tête-à-tête. If she could not reclaim control of her affections for him, it would at least be some consolation to deny Tseng the knowledge of it.
Dionne would probably have laughed at her. The old Dionne would have done, at any rate, and in Elena's experience people did not tend to undergo rapid personality changes in the space of a few years, if ever. Nevertheless, Elena wondered if it would be such a bad idea to give her sister a call.
As she closed the door to her apartment, it was carte blanche to give up on her attempts at keeping hold of her composure. She was bitterly sore, tired and still circling hopelessly around the matter of whether to strangle Tseng, or to just sit in a heap and wallow in self-pity. The former would probably be unsuccessful, yet the latter was so very unappealing. Elena leaned back against the front door and released a deep breath.
After taking off her boots in the hallway Elena shuffled into the kitchen, neglecting to turn on the light. Her apartment was still a bit musty after spending two weeks closed up but the smell of home was somewhat comforting. She opened the fridge.
Empty shelves stared back at her. Elena let her head fall against the open door in dismay. Since Lara had reluctantly discharged her from the hospital the previous morning, Elena hadn't made it as far as doing any shopping. In fact, all she did achieve yesterday was to reacquaint herself with her own bed. She pushed the fridge door closed with a sigh. There would probably be a tin of something unappetizing in one of the cupboards but she wasn't in the mood.
She moved into the bathroom and turned on the light. The mysterious healing rain that had cured Rufus, outwardly at least, of the Geostigma hadn't worked any miracles for her. The fading cuts and bruises on her face were still there, and the rest of her body certainly wasn't thanking her for the exertion. As she struggled to take her jacket off, her mind returned to Tseng. After leaving Rufus he had been nothing but professional, focussing on the job and speaking to her only when necessary as he piloted the helicopter. How could she be so stupidly in love with such a heartless creature? Professional distance she could tolerate from him – she had virtually come to expect it from him, in fact – but blatant disregard towards her was new, and it was more or less on par with the violent jolt the harpoon gun's recoil had dealt her suffering shoulder. What in the world had happened to professional courtesy?
Her jacket discarded onto the floor, Elena loosened her tie and pulled it out of her collar before unbuttoning her blouse. She had forced herself to look at her still recovering body yesterday, as if to prove to herself that she could look at the healing wounds and marks on her skin without shuddering at the memories they conjured. The brothers were dead now but, unlike them, the memories would not die.
She had slept with the light on the previous night, her fingers curled around the grip of her gun that she had placed under the edge of her pillow. Elena took the weapon out of its holster, holding it loosely in her hand. She had become startlingly aware of her own vulnerability and could hardly bring herself to put the weapon down, even to get washed. Muttering something to herself about getting a grip, she holstered the gun and unfastened her belt, placing the whole lot firmly down on the counter beside the sink. The only demons in that apartment were her own. Sephiroth and the Remnants were gone.
After taking a shower, changing into some dry clothes and fumbling with the contraption-like sling Lara had insisted she wear, Elena headed into the living room and sat on the sofa. The clock on the wall read 8.30pm. She had not forgotten her earlier thoughts of calling Dionne. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to have that conversation she had been putting off. Her right arm immobilised by the sling, Elena was forced to get up to reach her phone that was on the small table at one end of the sofa.
"Hello?"
Elena hesitated, suddenly unsure of whether she really wanted to do this now.
"Dionne," she said, her uncertainty rendering her tone rather less friendly than she had intended.
"Elena," Dionne replied. There was a pause. "How are you?"
"Fine," Elena found herself blurting. 'Fine' might as well have been a universal contraction for 'Not really, but I'd rather not discuss it just now.' Elena knew she wasn't fooling anyone, least of all herself. "Are you still in Edge?"
"I'm not far away," was the reply. Elena detected amenability in Dionne's voice. Perhaps something might go right today after all. She stopped herself before she could reach the end of that thought; things had gone well today, for the most part, even if it didn't feel that way.
"Right," Elena nodded. She was standing by the window now, looking out over Edge. Her ghost-like reflection in the glass was staring into the distance. Elena felt like a shadow of her former self, and the image in the glass was an apt testament to that. What did she stand to lose by taking Dionne up on her offer? "I was thinking about what you said and… I thought we could talk." Another pause. "I'll humour you, if that's still all right?"
Dionne gave a close-lipped chuckle; an outflow of breath through her nose and a muted 'hmm'. "Yes, I'd like that," she said. Elena could hear her smiling.
-x-
