Disclaimer: We all know I don't own anything from FF7 or square-enix/soft. No characters. No locations. No vehicles. No Chocobo. All I own is myself, and I'm not even sure about that one.

Oh well, at least this story's mine. See, I can see the silver lining to every Cloud... :-p

Sorry, couldn't help that one :-p

Don't upset the Lifestream... I want to share the fun too! Wait for meeeeeeeeeee!


Past Imperfect : Rude -An Undying Love


He had first heard of that bar from a couple of friends at the office. He had gone there more out of boredom than any real desire to socialize. Since then, he had always spent some time there whenever he was in that town and had some ground time to spare.

He could not really say why he went so much there; it was as dimly lit and drab as any other bar down in the slums in that sector, with the usual mix of shady clientele whose sallow skins sickly reflected the neon signs on the walls, happy-go-lucky drunks and die-hard gamblers. The usual lot of garishly painted sluts hung around the doorway, much like the cloud of smoke and narcotics that always hovered inside, whether there were clients or not.

Maybe he liked the drinks; but then, there were many other bars in town which offered more sophisticated drinks that could knock you off just by sniffing at them. Maybe he liked the atmosphere; the patrons here did not care a whit whether he was a Turk or not, they just went on their merry way and pretended he was not there.

He sat down at his usual table, back to a wall with a clear view of every doorway while being rather set apart from the rest of the room. The barman, a forty-ish burly man with dark hair came over and set down his usual order on the wooden table.

"Ere's your poison. Aven' seen you in a while, eh?"

He simply nodded noncommittally and the barman went away, shrugging. The man seated at the table stared at the glass in front of him.

Maybe it was because of her.

He had heard her name first. He had heard one of the men call her as she came in, telling her to come and join him and his buddies at their table. He had quietly observed what she would do; from the moment she had stepped in the bar, he knew she was not one of those half-starved harpies hovering outside. She had dark eyes and long brown hair that she had worn down that day in a glossy ponytail. Her clothes, simple and functional, had hinted at a lithe and strong body underneath. She was pretty, in a conventional sort of way, but with something else thrown in that caught the eye and made a lasting impression. The young woman had just laughed and told him good-naturedly to go to hell and his wife before setting down at the bar where a glass of something was immediately put down before her. Apparently, she had taken to visiting this bar quite a lot in the month or so he had not been there.

This had been the first time he had seen her. Since then, she had been a constant at this bar, always popping in for an hour or two before sauntering away to somewhere else. Then, he had often wondered why she came to that bar too.

Before long, she started to notice his discreet presence and occasionally waved or smiled in his direction before turning away. He, of course, barely responded, until that day.

She had entered the bar, a man hot on her heels, shouting until he was red in the face about something or other. The young woman completely ignored him and sat down at the bar with a sang-froid that he thought would have improved many of his colleagues' attitudes. The man, enraged, had grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back so sharply that she half-fell out of the barstool, grasping the counter for support. He then proceeded to grasp her arms and tried to twirl her around. Meanwhile, most of the patrons watched, bemused and more than a little entertained by the fight; others half-lifted themselves from their seats, unsure whether they should intervene or not. The silent man sitting in the shadows did not move.

The man, whether boyfriend or neighbour or just another madman on the streets yanked her hair, making her throw back her head and cry out in pain, reaching instinctively for her scalp. This gave him the opening he had been aiming for and he pulled her roughly out of her seat, his hand still twirled in her hair. Murmurs of disapproval were heard and someone shouted that this was a dirty trick but still, no one acted as he started to shake her like an angry baby would shake his toy in a temper tantrum. She did not endure this for long, for a leather-clad hand had clamped down so firmly on her attacker's shoulder that he released his hold, gasping in pain.

"Leave the lady alone. Forever."

And in a lightning-quick movement, Rude had somehow ejected the howling man back out in the streets into a puddle of slush under the jibes of the whores and helped the young woman sit back down before going back to his place, as if nothing had happened. The man had never bothered her again.

That had been the first time that she had heard him actually talk, and since then, she had regularly gone out of her way to speak to him.

That was the start of an odd relationship; they would invariably meet at the bar when Rude was in town, stay there for some time before she got up and Rude followed her outside, to accompany her to her place. Before long, the other patrons noticed that those two, even if they did not talk much were sharing something Something that few could put into words. Something that no one would dare put into words when in association with him.

No one except Reno, that is.

That day, Rude had known that his devil-may-care colleague had had him shadowed. For some time already, he had been asking about Rude's whereabouts after work hours, since he never joined the gang in their nocturnal after-hours outings these days. Reno was young, hot-tempered and lacked discretion but Rude was fairly confident that time would remedy that; those who did not adapt to the rules of the game always ended up in a box somewhere and Reno was the kind of guy who liked life too much to do such a mistake. He would learn to keep his intentions more obscure until he pounced on his prey, like all those who had preceded him.

It was winter now; snow was slowly falling from the grey skies, covering the city with a mantle of white. Streetlights illuminated the darkening avenues, casting warm spotlights on frosty banks of snow. Rude watched the snowflakes dance in the light for a moment, before moving on. He had to lose the rookie Reno had sent.

He had a date.

The road leading from the reactor they had just inspected was quite deserted as it was a secondary road that was used only for maintenance purposes. But the main road was full of people out for a walk, shopping or just spending time together. Gaily coloured lights were strung between buildings, adding a festive touch to the otherwise monochrome city. Shops had started to close later in the night and one could admire the displays as they rivalled in beauty, creativity and abundance in celebration of the holiday to come.

Rude barely noted those details; his whole attention was on giving the slip to the rookie. Usually, he should have been able to lose the unwanted company in the throng, but the Turk was a good one, even if not full-fledged yet. A slight smile appeared on his lips as he realized that he had been the one to teach the young Turk how to shadow a prey. Oh well. He would just have to outwit his own techniques then. It was a simple matter of blending in and moving with the masses, strolling leisurely to apparently nowhere but with a particular destination in mind. The rookie would be keeping tabs on tall men with determined strides; his attitude and posture changed and adapted so as to distance himself from his usual self and mannerisms. Rude concentrated himself on the task and after some time, he reached his goal at an intersection. Just to be on the safe side, Rude decided to use the sewers to completely befuddle the rookie; he had absolutely no desire to have an audience, whether well-meaning or not. Sewers were dangerous for the untrained person; but Rude had no problem at all with the monsters he encountered, saving several people on his way out. One of them, a guy in a doubtful yellow-coloured suit was particularly informative; maybe he would find them this time after all.

The inky night was chilly when he got out of the sewers. This was a more quiet section of the city; fewer people were out and about, and there was no shopping frenzy here. It was so peaceful, one could almost imagine hearing the snowflakes fall on the ground. Rude breathed in the clean scents of winter, fresh and crisp after the miasma of the sewers. The senior Turk was now certain that the rookie would never find him; his pace was more leisurely as he walked toward the softly illuminated row of trees, and to one in particular, the tallest and most gaily decorated. A million little lights of the softest red, yellow, orange, pink, green and blue clothed its naked branches, twinkling as the soft breeze made them dance.

Rude stopped by for a moment to reflect on the display; if he remembered right, this was the twentieth year that Shinra had sponsored the decoration of that tree. And every year had a special theme. He vaguely remembered the memo that had circulated at the office some weeks ago; this year's was called 'An Undying Love'. Apparently, each of the lights on the tree was supposed to represent the love someone bore for someone else, a special person who existed somewhere on the planet. There was something else… ah! They also symbolized the hope that they would be together some day.

A young woman, carrying a basket of flowers was standing beneath it, looking at passer-bys. And just as the yellow-suit man had said, that flower girl did sell red roses. Rude gave up trying to find out how she managed to procure fresh red roses in a city where grass had trouble growing, and in winter to boot. He stopped in front of her.

"Are you interested in 'Beloved' mister?" The girl giggled softly at his confused air. "I meant the roses; they are called 'Beloved'. A dozen for only fifty Gil."

Rude nodded and handed her the money. He turned to walk away, but she reached out and stopped him.

"Maybe you should bring the lady here to watch the tree light up. It happens just when the sun sets, and it's really awesome. I'm sure she would like that." She smiled one last time and walked away, looking for another client. He watched her go silently, her long dress trailing in the snow, silver bangles glinting faintly in the night. Maybe she was right.

And then he wondered what an unlit light could mean… that there was no one for that person… or that the hope had died?

He reflected briefly on that as the wind made the strings of lights dance like fireflies on a dark lake. Then, he moved away. Some questions were destined to be left unanswered, and some others were better off left alone. The man he had become chose to believe that questions were no longer important, and thus, answers even less so. What counted was the present, what could be seen, heard, smelled and touched and felt.

A couple passed him by, smiling as they saw him bend down his head to breathe in deeper the roses' heady scent. Beloveds…

As lovely as the lady for whom they were destined. As he handed them to her at the bar, he wondered again about how lucky he was to have found her.

"Thank you, Rude. My favourite flowers. You remembered…"

Rude looked down as she bent her head and nuzzled the blooms. For some unknown reasons, he was finding it difficult to speak.

"Pure coincidence. A lady thrust them in my arms as I was coming here."

"Oh? A coincidence?" Dimples appeared as she fought vainly not to smile. "Anyway, I'm happy…"

"…Chelsea…" The tall man was finding it harder and harder to continue the conversation as something alarming was happening to him: he could feel blood suffusing his face.

This time, she could not help grinning. "Rude? Are you getting shy on me again?"

He wanted to disappear under the hardwood floor as he definitely felt himself blush under his tan. He lacked the courage to watch her as he finally spoke.

"…Chelsea… stop teasing me"

The young woman giggled. "I'm sorry."

It was plain to see that she meant it not at all, but for the next two hours, she didn't tease him… at least, not much. They spoke of work, colleagues, past experiences, life. Chelsea always asked him to take care of himself, not to tire himself out; she cared, he could see that in the way her eyes always looked at him, worry etched in their depths. But he had only known one life and didn't know much about not being tired out. He was a Turk, and his life revolved around Shin-Ra. His job description covered everything between law and order in the streets to bodyguard duty, inspection, investigation, murder and torture. Being with her made his life… different. It made him feel different, and he both hated and loved that feeling because of its addictiveness; the more he was with her, the more time he wanted to spend by her side. Lately, he had come to imagine a life without Shin-Ra and without the Turks… but this was just a dream, and dreams always belonged to the future. He belonged to the present, and he was determined to cherish every moment for the evanescent treasure that it was. Because right now, with her, he was happy.


Author's Notes:

Oh, wow. This chapter turned out to be longer than planned, and I had to divide it in two. this is part one...

Sorry for the long wait, but the twin chapters had to be worked as a whole, which meant a lot of corrections back and forth.

For those of you who've played BC, this is one fo those Eps that didn't have any meaning beside dev the story of a character in particular. in this case, it's Rude's story...

Ok, enough for now. I'll be more precise in the next chapter's notes. On to chapter 2 and R&R!