I thank you most cordially for all your patience to bear with me so far. I'm sorry it took for almost ever to get this last chapter finished (and posted), but it seems I just can't write unless I'm under a lot of stress.
So, this is the last chapter at least and I do hope you will enjoy it and please forgive me for making you wait so long!
Chapter twenty-one: Knockin' on Heaven's Door
The book was quite a good one and even though his thoughts had revolved around the small revolution in Edge and most of all with the anticipation of Tifa's return, Rufus soon found himself absorbed between the lines, managed to reduce the thoughts about Tifa to just a stirring hum in his stomach. The book was well written and gripping, so he couldn't tell how long he had tried not to think of Tifa until he looked up again. It couldn't have been long for the lights in the garden hadn't been lit, yet and he found himself in almost the only island of light in the room. A look on his watch told him that it was a bit earlier, even, than he had expected. He close the book for a moment, looked around him.
At first, it didn't come to him why he had looked up at all. Tifa hadn't entered. The curtain was swinging in the mild wind, nobody moved nearby, everything seemed alright and yet he felt his senses scanning the surrounding. Deciding that he was just nervous about the operations in Edge (or Tifa), he took out his mobile to phone Tseng.
The light caught in a window panel across the room as he flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear. The curtains were still moving in the airflow, he still heard the sound of water from far off. The light of the lamp was steady.
He heard no dialling tone and when he looked at his phone, it had no reception. But he had already placed a call to Tseng from here.
He heard his watch ticking.
He did not hear the regular steps of the bodyguards' boots. Nor the chirring of the crickets.
Carefully, he placed the book on the table, listened into the darkness around him.
This wasn't right.
His slipped into his jacket, reaching out for the gun. With the other hand, he felt for the ammunition in a pocket. And listened into the darkness.
Where was Tifa? Why was he worrying about her? She should take care of him. That was why she had come along, after all.
Reeve had only allowed him to carry a weapon as long as it wasn't loaded.
And now, the building around him was deadly silent.
He rose to his feet, listened again, only heard the rustling of his own clothes, his breath as he pressed to the wall, the muffled metallic sound as slipped the ammunition into the weapon.
It was as good as dark around him now. He had slipped away from his seat, into the darkness, was now in the deepest shadows next to the door. For what good that was, in white clothes.
When he charged the gun, the sound was so loud that it echoed from the walls, through the entire house as it seemed. Everything dead silent around him. Pressing the cold steal to his breast, he held his breath, listened into the darkness.
No sound. No reaction. Eerie silence. But he knew that not everyone made noises who moved.
His hands were moist when they slipped into the fingerless gloves.
The water had stopped.
Where was Tifa? Why wasn't she there already? She was surely taking too long. Or was she? She hadn't been gone that long, according to his watch. It only felt too long.
He heard nothing, saw nothing. No one was breathing inside this room. Or was his heart just beating too loud?
The curtain moved dully in the wind.
No one here.
Carefully, he trusted his body against the wall, moved towards the door frame. He stood there several moments, listening into the darkness, kept his breath low. There was darkness creeping from the corridor, down his neck. Carefully, he drew a breath, silently, and cast a look around the corner, handgun ready to fire. He was back in cover in the next moment. The corridor was as void of life as it sounded. Light was sipping into it from the other end. And still, there was no sound to be heard.
He carefully brushed the wooden strands of the curtain aside and pushed himself through, as close to the wall as possible. Behind him, the pearls of wood hit against each other, rattling ever so slightly. But thundering through the darkness, a signal rocket for everyone lingering in the shadows.
Again, he listened into the deep silence and again, there was nothing. When he sneaked further forward, all sense were scanning the surrounding. He ventured closer to the small anteroom and suddenly, there was a noise.
At first, it was just a small noise in the distance, as if wind was blowing through a tree. But the closer he got, the more it turned into electrostatic noise.
When he had reached the anteroom, still pressed to the wall, he was sure it was noise. And he was as good as sure that he heard voices. Not Tifa, though, and that made it worse.
The anteroom was half lit by the light that was coming from the corridor behind it; the door was open. It should have been closed. Still, there was nothing in the air but that noise. Tifa wasn't even overdue, yet. No sound of a living soul but the static noise and as he moved closer, he was sure the noise came from a PHS. A working PHS. And it was coming from the corridor.
He was now at the door, could almost distinguish the voice from the noise. There was not a sound of another human being. Or of any other life form.
The air from the corridor smelt strange. Sweet. Warm. But he didn't dare to venture much closer into the light. Stood silently for a moment, tried to distinguish a words from the noise. Couldn't. Then, a small reflex caught his eyes. A small reflex that was creeping very slowly along the gap between the tiles. It was a fluid, dark. And suddenly, the sweet smell wasn't so very strange anymore and his stomach was tightening, his breath chocking for a short moment.
Tifa.
But of course, that couldn't be. She didn't have a PHS, she wouldn't have taken that way. He was sure. If she had realized there was any threat, she wouldn't have come through a brightly lit corridor. It just couldn't be!
The blood had almost come to a halt now and he forced himself to think. It just couldn't be Tifa. He had to concentrate. He had to leave, immediately, he was far too visible where he was standing. But where to? To Tifa? Or should he better try to reach the helicopter port? He knew how to fly a helicopter. Reno had let him once or twice. He felt the fear growing inside him, slowly, painfully. Pathetic. Tifa.
He knew how to point a gun but he wasn't a fully trained Turk. He was out of what little training he had. He was dressed all white and the night was pitch black. And last time, his abilities had been no use to him at all. He would have died if it hadn't been for Tifa. He felt the fear clenching around him, remembered too well what had happened, what they had done, that this, too, was most likely Scarlet's and Heidegger's doing. Knew he had to move away from the light. There had to be a solution! They couldn't just kill him! – They couldn't just kill Tifa! His hand clenched around the handle of the gun as he dragged himself away from the light. He had to stay rational, not to think about what could happen but what was best to do. He listened into the house for any sound, for anyone who was approaching. He couldn't go to the helicopter port. Not without Tifa. He wasn't sure he would make it. And even if… it was Tifa's job to protect him! And he had to make sure she was still alive. There was just no way he'd leave her back. Even if… even if deserting her was perhaps saver. Damn it. Damn her! Damn him for feeling too much!
He drew into the dark. He didn't dare to move out into the corridor to pick up the PHS. If someone was there, they would shoot him immediately. Or worse. He was too visible, anyway.
He tried to move as noiselessly as possible, tried not to think about the dead person and that if he was dead, someone had to be inside the suite already. Tried not to think about Tifa and that she could be dead, too. Or that they would kill him.
Damn it, he had wanted to face her! Talk to her! Ask her ...
Rufus set into motion, knowing that what he was doing was everything Tseng would disapprove of. Knowing that he had to hurry if he wanted to reach Tifa alive. He tried to fight down his own fright. His Turks would come, eventually. They would come and save him! Everything around him was still deadly silent and when he moved forward it was only as fast as he trusted his steps to be soundless. He crouched forward, fright clinging to his neck, stopped in front of the door to Tifa's study. Listened. Nothing. Not even the crackling of the PHS from the floor anymore. Not a noise from Tifa's direction. Not a noise from behind him, not a noise from the room. His heart was hammering.
Perhaps they hadn't been here, yet. Perhaps they were still searching his quarters. But why was she so late, then? He had to hurry. But the room in front of him was dark, he had no memory of the furniture in it. He stayed several moments pressed against the wall next to the door, listened into the darkness, felt his heart beating, until he was sure he heard no one breath, until his eyes had adjusted enough to the dark.
The only choice he had was to feel his way forward, through the darkness, as silently as possible, only guided by what little light fell in from the anteroom.
Then, suddenly, the light behind him seemed to fade for just the doubt of a second. He had barely reached the middle of the room, just avoided a chair and now he remembered how Scarlet's Turks had come at him, was suddenly sick with fright. His grip tightened around the handle of his gun as if it hadn't been tight enough already. His heart was hammering, felt his breath growing shallower, his ears listening into the darkness. He didn't move, barely breathed. And in the same moment, he heard the noise of steps on stone. Steps of high heeled shoes. Steps coming towards him, quickly.
Scarlet.
He reacted immediately, spun around, pulling his gun up within the movement, just in time to see the muzzle-flash of the pistol that was pointed towards him. His own shot missed Scarlet's head by millimetres and in the same moment, his entire brain was filled with the pain when the spun turned into a fall and he slammed into a small table.
****
The evening was beautiful. It could have been raining, thundering, the world could have ended, the evening would have still been beautiful. Rufus had made it a point that he wanted her to return for conversation. He had been truly angry about the way how Scarlet and Heidegger had been talking about slum dwellers… evidently also the way Heidegger had been looking at her.
She studied herself in the mirror, thought of Rufus, the way he had half looked at her when staring out of the window of the helicopter. She'd ask him. This was her only chance. Tomorrow, the news of Verdot would most likely come. Tomorrow, they'd leave again and she would only see him around the building. She just had to ask him. Even if he was going to laugh at her, she just couldn't take it anymore.
She washed her hands quickly, heart thundering, splashed water into her face and tried to calm down. But when she started brushing her hair, she suddenly hesitated. There were some movements going on outside the window. She half listened as she brushed her hair, a bit estranged. The regular steps were disappearing. They weren't continuing around the house, it sounded just as if they were altogether leaving. At first, she thought it could be a change of the guards, but even after several moments, no steps were returning. A bit worried now, she put her brush aside. Reeve couldn't – and wouldn't – just pull off the guards in the middle of the night.
Or perhaps he hadn't and the realization ran in a cold shiver down her spin.
Rufus.
Gaia help her that she would still be in time! She spun around her own axis, reached out for the door and hesitated. She couldn't just run into who-knew what kind of scene, unprotected. It wouldn't help Rufus if she got killed.
Now, outside, it was completely silent. The lights which had started to glow where dimming away.
She wasn't even armed. She had left her weapon on her bed. She looked around her. A bathroom, what kind of weapon could be expected?
Not one.
There was a noise oozing through the door. On the other side, someone had opened a door. And now, there were muffled steps.
Her heart was accelerating. Rufus, perhaps was it Rufus! Perhaps Rufus had realized that something was wrong and come to look for her. The thought, despite her anxiousness, made her jolt with ecstasy and anticipation, her heart accelerating.
But Rufus treaded softer, inaudible, most times, and he wouldn't have come to her bedroom with… without knocking if he treaded that unthinkingly … Gaia, she couldn't truly think about him being there!
Her fingers closed around a glass next to the tab and as her other hand turned around the handle. The steps were too heavy. She had to be quick, quick to overpower whoever was there.
Her hand pressed the handle and in the same moment, she opened the door, quickly, and froze. Froze with disgust.
"Tell her there's no need to hurry with the damn bastard", the mightily overweighed form of a green dressed man with too much beard and a sweating complexion grumbled into a PHS and Tifa felt her herself freezing inside. Rufus!
The man's eyes darted to her as he dropped the PHS on the nightstand and Tifa felt her stomach tightening as a licentious grin twisted the ugly face. "Oh, Tifa!", he addressed her and turned towards her, lifting a stunning pistol into her direction. "Come, girly, don't resist and I promise…"
"Where's Rufus?!" Disgust, shock and pure fear were filling her head. Fear, not for her, but for Rufus. What were they doing to him?! The stunning pistol was pointed directly at her as Heidegger came closer.
Heidegger's expression darkened. "Scarlet will kill him the way he deserves it, that treacherous leech! But you and I… if you are good I'll…", he started, but Tifa didn't let him finish the sentence, tightening her grip around the glass, ripped it up and threw it into Heidegger's wide-eyed surprise.
The noise the body made when it slammed into the floor was echoing through the room and she had the feeling the floor indeed vibrating under her feet. She darted forward, picked up the stunning pistol Heidegger had dropped and in the same moment froze as she caught the voice that was crackling through Heidegger's PHS. Wild barks to swarm out, to secure the building, to defend the retreat route, to hold strong against the intruders.
Caught aback, she turned just in time to see Heidegger moving again. She grabbed the stunning pistol tighter, reached Heidegger in the same moment, saw his eyes flickering to her, he lifted his arm in defence, his mouth opened to cry for help. She didn't even give it a try to ask again about Rufus' whereabouts or give him any other chance to yell for help. She just powered the pistol up and slammed it into his chest. The impulse jerked through the body and she didn't care if it might have been too much or caused a heart attack. She just grabbed the pistol tighter and headed for the door, her heart hammering. There was not a minute to loose. Knowing Scarlet, she would take her time to kill, but when she realized that Reeve had found out about their raid and was sending backup… Tifa didn't even want to think that sentence to its end, grabbed the stunning-stick tighter and headed for the door.
She wouldn't be able to bare it if Rufus was dead.
****
Pain. Hot, flaring pain.
"Is he dead?" A PHS was crackling.
Steps were coming closer.
The floor was cold against his face, the pain was flaring in his shoulder. Hot ache was soaking through his body. Rufus found himself down on the ground, between splinters of glass, the table he had slammed into.
The steps stopped, closed to his head. He tasted blood, felt himself shortly blacking out.
A bullet case clickered to the ground, next to his face. His own weapon had skidded from his hand, was glittering about half a metre from him in the faint light. The shadow of the other's gun was moving over the ground towards him. He couldn't just die here, not like this.
"Let's make sure, shall we?" It was Scarlet's voice above his head. The glass paused glittering when the shadow passed and in the same moment, he winced as the icy metal of a muzzle dug into the back of his neck.
"Hello, beautiful! Still alive, are we?" The barrel wandered over his skin and came to a rest under his cheekbone. She had nearly whispered it and out of the edge of his eye, Rufus saw her simpering. He felt the glass cutting into his fingers when they closed around it. She charged the weapon.
"Well, not for long, anymore!" Her laugher resounded from the walls and with all the power he could command, he rammed the piece of glass into her calve and twisted around his axis. The flash from the muzzle burned his face as she collapsed, the bullet's impact threw stone debris into his face, her scream brayed through the room. His hand found the handle of his gun.
With a groan she sat up and the barrel came to rest under her chin, shaking with the effort. He felt blood running down his fingers, through the glove, he saw the hate in her eyes, the life, felt her breath, his shoulder hurt terribly, he felt his hand shaking with the effort.
The hammer clicked, the muzzle flashed, the recoil knocked the gun from his hand, when his finger overcame the resistance of the trigger.
He got up, slowly, his hand hurt, his shoulder was burning, didn't look back. He felt sick, sick with the smell, sick with himself. Sick with the thought of what they could have done to Tifa.
Tifa.
He gripped for his pistol again, his hand tightened around the handle. If they had killed her – if they had done anything to her – he would kill them. Every single one of them. And then, he would kill their families. He would kill everyone they had known. He didn't turn around, headed for the door, onwards, stood for a moment, listening into the next room. But outside of the house, shouts filled the air, some inside, hard to tell whether in the next room or not. He heard Scarlet's PHS crackling with voices in his back, orders to withdraw, knew the sound well; it was panic. His Turks were coming. And he didn't give a damn. Tifa was more important.
The next room was lighter, lit by an opened door. He was careful to move in, careful to move forward. His shoulder was hammering, but at least, there was nothing broken. For what could still brake in a shoulder where all the bones were artificial? He twisted the shoulder back and in the same moment, froze. There had been a movement in the doorframe. His eyes flew around for cover and saw none. He lifted his gun, pointed it to the door and in the same moment, another frame appeared there, thin, slim, pointing a gun towards him.
He would have known this frame under a thousands, in a crowd, in the dark, in the blazing sun, under the set of stars, or in a barely lit doorframe in the middle of a war zone. He had studied her more often than he even remembered and his heart skipped a beat, nearly stopping altogether with relief and he could only just stop himself from running towards her.
When he finally spoke her name, it nearly choked in his throat. "Tifa…"
Her weapon dropped in the same moment. "Rufus… You…" Her voice was so close to breaking that she was afraid it would give everything away. Her concern, her relieve – her love. He looked so – perfect, in the half light, although the usual order of his hair was disturbed. That strained look on his face seemed to have evaporated the moment he had set eyes on her. As if… as if she was everything he had come for.
"Are… are you alright?", was all he said, though, coolly but with all the cold in it missing. She hadn't realized moving towards him, hadn't realized that he, too, had come closer. But then, suddenly, she was only standing a metre from him, couldn't take her eyes from his, this perfect blue, the icy cold and this little sparkle in it which seemed to flare through the red eye. They were directed onto her, his lips were slightly parted and she felt her heart only hammering, wanted step closer, wanted to embrace him and never let go of him again, but couldn't bring herself to move closer. She knew she had to say something, couldn't just continue staring at him, couldn't bring herself to break eyes contact.
At last, she got herself to give an awkward nod. "Are you?"
"I think so." His face was somewhere torn between its usual uncaring and some sort of smile. His eyes were fixed on her, still, colder than ice when they scanned the surrounding but so very warm on her. "Good… good to see you alive."
Was she mistaken or was his voice really so tender?
"Good to see you alive, too." She couldn't take her eyes from his, couldn't bring herself to move away, knew that it couldn't be anything but a mistake to move closer. But still she did and even before she think, he was slowly lifting his arm. As if time had stopped, she could feel his eyes on her face, the softness in them as they trailed over her eyes. Everything she could breath was his smell, that warm, soft note of faded aftershave that was clinging only lightly to the air.
His hand was slowly rising towards her face.
His fingers were warm when she touched them. Warm and a bit moist with the blood. Smooth. There was a small trickle on the back of his hand where his glove left room to see the pale skin and the even paler blotch geostigma had left. His skin was so soft and warm when she wiped the blood from the back of his hand with her thumb and suddenly, she was holding it. She felt his fingers close around hers, the warmth of his skin when she closed hers. She had never noticed how slim his fingers were, how perfect. Just like his face. The dark eyelashes, in spite of the pale skin. She met his eyes then, so close now, so full of warmth, leaned towards him and in the same moment felt his lips on hers, shy at first but replying ardently when she kissed.
"I think", and his voice wasn't more than a whisper and she could nearly feel the movement of his lips on hers. "I think I love you."
Instead of an answered, she closed her lips on his again, let her arms around his body, drew him closer and felt his close around her body.
"I know I love you, you fool."
I hope you enjoyed. I'm not quite so happy with how the ending turned out, but if I continued working on it, it would have taken till summer for you to read it.
I am planning to revise it, though, as soon as I find time. So, I would very much appreciate it, if you could tell me what you think is missing at the ending, what I could do better or what I should chance.
Anyway, please review the story in general, too. I'd really like to have some tips, critique, etc.