Disclaimer: Square Enix = Final Fantasy franchise. Author = umm...nothing really. Yet.
A/N: Finals. Nuff said. Dead week is next week and I already feel well...dead. I've got some papers to write so I'm sorry to say that this will be on a back burner for a bit. Not too long though. Until I need to write something else before my head explodes. Soon, my darlings, soon. For now, just enjoy.
"What are we supposed to do about this?"
"It's not really my problem, now is it?" Cass replied. She reveled in the feeling of power she had over one of the most powerful men in the world. President ShinRa glared at her, but could do nothing. Not if he wanted to keep one of his better assets on his side.
"He talked about you, of course it's your problem," ShinRa spouted.
"No, I'm dead, remember?" Cass said, "I don't exist. Dead people don't really care about much of anything." Faces were turning red. This was wonderful. If only Rufus was here to see it. It would make him happy for once.
"I can't fix this for you," Cass said, "You made me invisible. I have to stay that way. This is your problem...unless you feel like admitting that you lied." She wasn't quite sure that shade of purple came naturally to a person's face. Should she take a picture? It would certainly last longer.
"I can't do that," the President said.
"Actually you can," Cass pointed, "but since it would be really, really embarrassing I know that you won't." He let out an angered sigh. Aww, back to normal. She should have taken the picture.
"Fine," he said, "What other solutions can you suggest, since your actions caused this commotion."
"I didn't cause this," Cass said, "I had no control over what Sephiroth was going to say or even what questions were asked. And I don't know what to tell you, since Sephiroth refuses to state that I'm dead. Again." She heard a quiet chuckle from a man Cass hadn't seen before. He wouldn't be here if he wasn't the head of a pertinent department, though. She should have asked Tseng who the recent hires were.
"It's much more complicated keeping you alive," he said.
"Maybe we should stop using that metaphor," she said.
"I might have a solution," the man continued, "You address the public, stress that you don't want to be a public figure. Earn their pity and maybe this will blow over on it's own."
"That's a big if," Cass noted, "It sounds like there's a huge chance that I'd have to do it more than once."
"It's very likely," he agreed, "but they don't necessarily have to see your face."
"Why do I have to do it then?" Cass asked, "Just hire out some secretary to do it."
"You know Sephiroth," he said, "If we faked it it could ruin his reputation."
"He'd love it," Cass said, "He hates the attention."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about," the man said. Cass sighed.
"Fine," she said, "I'll fix your problem."
"You're Cassiopia Durmont, right?" Cass turned around and saw the genius of the department heads following her.
"Yes," she said, "What's it to ya?"
"You came up with the design for the plate," he said.
"Yes...?" she prompted. He was quiet for a moment. A thought stuck her.
"Engineering or Math?" she guessed.
"Architecture," he admitted, "I'm sorry, Reeve Tuesti, Head of the Department of Urban Planning."
"I figured we'd get there," Cass said, "nice to meet you."
"I'm sorry for being so awkward about this," Reeve said, "but your my wife's hero."
"No, it's cool," Cass said, "I always knew I'd be queen of the math geeks one day. It just took my unfortunate demise to get the crown. Wifey into architecture as well?"
"No, she's the amateur mathematician," Reeve said, "If you don't mind me asking, how did you come up with that design?"
"Imagination and about two gallons of coffee," she said, "In my head it was going to be out of some sort of glass, but apparently that's not going to fly."
"It's sounds unpractical, but aesthetically pleasing," Reeve said, "Metal would last longer in this climate."
"Which is why I stick with math," Cass said, "mathematicians disregard all ideas of practicality."
"I wish I could tell my wife I met you," Reeve said.
"Just how big is my following?" Cass asked.
"Most female university students make you a role model," Reeve said, "Or at least they did two years ago."
"And to think I was expelled," Cass said, "Still, I'm kind of glad I'm dead. I would hate the extra attention." She paused. "Tell your wife 1.682."
"What?" Reeve asked.
"1.682," she said, "If she's the nerd I want her to be she's trying to solve an equation I solved and almost got myself a doctorate. She's stuck halfway through. What she needs is 1.682. That's where everyone else gave up, but I'll give her a freebie."
"Okay," Reeve said utterly confused, "1.682." Cass's PHS rang and she answered.
"Alright, I'm coming," she said, "Don't get your fucking panties in a wad." She hung up. "It was nice to meet you Director Tuesti, but I have to go." With that, she turned a corner and left Reeve confused in the hallway.
"I don't even want to know how you talked her into this."
"Shut up Tseng," Cass said, "you too pibsqueak. I'd better not hear you telling anyone that I taught you this." Rufus nodded. The Turk shooting range was empty except for them. "The only reason I even gave in this early is because we got a 20 gage." Rufus wasn't paying attention. Cass smacked the back of his head.
"Pay attention or we stop now," she said, "I'm teaching you how to use a weapon of destruction. Show the proper respect."
"Sorry," Rufus said and focused on her. She gave him a hard look in return.
"Rule number one," she said, "You do not point the gun at anything you do not intend to shoot. Ever. Break this rule and I'll kill you."
"Not literally," Tseng said.
"Shut up twerp," Cass said, "Break rule number one and you'll find out if I'm literal or not. Rule number two: when not firing, keep the barrel pointed down range, even if it's not loaded or the safety's on. One day you'll forget and it's better to be safe than sorry. Break rule number two and I'll kill you after you've accidentally killed someone else." Rufus nodded again.
"Rule number three," Cass continued, "Never carry around a loaded weapon you don't intend to fire."
"Doesn't that make it hard to fire the gun when I need to?" Rufus asked.
"That's what Tseng and I are for," Cass said, "We'll have the good reaction time. If and when you willingly walk into a situation that you'll need the gun, you can load it, otherwise don't. Rule number four: When following rule number three keep the action of the gun open at all times, regardless of whether it's loaded or not. Break rule number three or four and I will beat you senseless. Am I understood?"
"Yes Cass," Rufus said.
"Those are my basic safety rules," she said, "Still interested in learning?"
"Yes," Rufus said.
"Fine," she said, "Tseng back up about ten steps."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because you smell weird," Cass said, "just do it." He did. "Now Rufus, make a triangle out of your hands. Like this." She held her hands out, palms outward with one set of fingers overlapping the other at a ninety degree angle and her thumbs doing the same. It left a small gap between her thumb and index fingers. Rufus did the same.
"Hold your hands so you can see Tseng's head in between your hands," Cass directed. Rufus obeyed. "Close your left eye." Rufus did so.
"Did Tseng's head move?" Cass asked. Rufus glanced up at her.
"No," he said incredulously. Cass nodded.
"Close your right eye," she said. Rufus re-adjusted and did as she said. He opened both eyes and blinked.
"He moved," Rufus said, "I can't see him." Cass nodded.
"Your right eye dominant," she said, "You're going to place the shotgun on your right shoulder so your dominant eye can see down the barrel." She moved off to the side and pulled out a set of glasses and earplugs.
"Put these on," she said. Rufus gave her a funny look, then took them and put them on. Cass brought out a disappointingly small case out. The shotgun she pulled out was no better.
"This one is small," Rufus noted.
"You're small," Cass said, "If you shot mine, you'd hurt yourself. You're going to be sore with this one as it is." Rufus began to pout, then shook it off. Cass showed him how to load and unload it, how to turn the safety on and off and how to hold it properly. She allowed him to try it with a spent shell. Then she pushed him up to the line.
"It feels unnatural," Cass said, "but you want to line yourself up at an angle so the gun raises directly at the target." She nudged his feet into position.
"Feet shoulder width apart," she said. Rufus re-adjusted slightly.
"Pick up a pretend gun," she said. Rufus sighed then did it, feeling horribly awkward.
"For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction," Cass said, "The gun will be pushing back on you just as hard as it pushes the charge out of the barrel. What should you do?" Rufus paused then leaned forward.
"Good idea, but bad stance," Cass said. She pulled him back up. "Lean forward at your waist. A little more, good. Feel this spot. Remember this spot. Put down the fake gun." Rufus lowered his arms. Cass passed over the real one again.
"Try it again," she said. Rufus picked up the gun and tried to get back in the proper spot. It was heavier and harder to do with the real thing. He felt a little better to have a smaller gun.
"Very good," she said, "try holding it a little steadier."
"This is hard," Rufus mumbled.
"No shit," Cass said. She stepped in front of the barrel and looked down at him. "There's a sort of hollow in your shoulder. Try and find it. It won't hurt as much pushing there when you fire." Rufus shifted around until he found a spot that felt more comfortable. Cass pushed his head down so it rested on the stock.
"Keep your head down or the gun will bounce up and smack you," she said, "you'll be more accurate that way anyway." Rufus shifted his head until he found a comfortable place.
"Do you want a demonstration before I give you a live shell?" Cass asked. Rufus thought about it.
"Yes," he said. He handed the gun back over. Cass picked it up as if it weighed nothing. She loaded it and settled it on her shoulder. She settled her head down. Then she fired. She unloaded the dead shell.
"Want another?" she asked. Rufus shook his head. She handed the gun back. He settled down range as he had been told. Cass handed over one shell. He loaded it carefully.
"You don't need to have your hand on the trigger until you're ready to fire," she said. Rufus nodded. He pulled the gun up and settled it in the hollow. He leaned forward slightly. Then he fired. He was shocked at how hard it hit back at him. He stood up startled and almost dropped the gun. He heard a chuckle. Cass was smirking at him.
"You lifted your head up," she said, "Keep doing that and it'll bruise." Rufus rubbed the side of his face and his shoulder.
"We've got twenty-three more shells," she said, holding out a new one, "This time hold the gun closer to you. It won't hurt as much when it doesn't have space to move. And keep your head down." Rufus nodded and started again.
The next morning his entire left side ached horribly. He could barely raise his arm. Yet, he made no complaint. He found that masochistic satisfaction with the pain again. He liked it. It reminded him of the lesson. Especially of the three targets he had managed to hit after a few practice rounds.
Cass and Sephiroth sat in an unused conference room, both rather against their own will.
"I'm sorry," Sephiroth said.
"I'm not mad at you," Cass said, "you didn't make me come here."
"I started it," Sephiroth noted.
"And we'll end it," she said. The annoyingly cheerful assistant came back with a computer and a microphone.
"We've set up a live feed for you," he said happily, "You can see what's going on and hear the questions." He set it up humming an annoying tune that made Cass want to kick him. He held out the small mic.
"Just clip this on and we'll hear we you have to say," he said.
"Joy," Cass said taking it up and clipping it on.
"We'll be ready to start in a few minutes," the assistant said brightly.
"I shall count the seconds," Cass said.
Tseng was torn about being in the audience. Technically Rufus was "ignorant" about the situation between Sephiroth and Cass. He wasn't supposed to know about them and thus couldn't be guarded by her while she was being Sephiroth's mom. Tseng knew Rufus knew, though. Rufus was many things, but stupid was not one of them. Still, he played along being his father's angel, blissfully unaware that his bodyguard was being interviewed in the background. He put on his bored face and sat in the audience with Turk entourage.
Tseng zoned out during the introductions. Whatever they had to say about Cass would be wrong and cliché. Sephiroth would be the same. Cass would just be making the flames die out slowly and silently so she could fade into the background again.
It wasn't right. In Tseng's opinion, Cass was a great mother in a world with severe shortage of good ones. Her kid, not even her own flesh and blood but her kid all the same, was a good kid. By all rights, they should be able to walk down the street with no questions asked, but there was nothing else to be done. Cass did not exist out on the street, so she had to exist as a shadow. Tseng perked up as the host, the same one from Sephiroth's first interview, pulled out some questions.
"If you don't mind, could we have your name?" he asked.
"I do mind," Cass's voice came out, "I came here for Sephiroth's sake, not for your entertainment."
"What am I supposed to call you then?" the host chided.
"Whatever you want," Cass said, "I cherish my privacy, as does Sephiroth. Neither he nor I wish for anything other than a quiet life. If I gave a name, people would hunt me down so they could say they met me. With all due respect, I am not a window display." The host nodded.
"I see," he said, "you wish to stay hidden."
"I do," she said, "You knowing who I am will not change who I am."
"Well spoken," he said, "May I ask is Sephiroth with you?" There was a girlish giggle after the question.
"Yes, he is," she said, "he doesn't want to talk right now. He wants to listen."
"We shall respect both of your wishes then," the host said. There was a general murmur of agreement.
"Are you truly Sephiroth's mother?" the host asked.
"Not biologically," she said, "but I believe we are just as close." There was a small "awww" through the audience.
"How so?" the host asked.
"He visits me when he can," she said, "I get presents on occasion, he calls me when he wants to talk, and I worry about him whenever he gets deployed on a mission. It is difficult to come up with an answer on the spot."
"I understand. May I ask how you two became this close?" the host asked. There was a long pause. Tseng could faintly hear quiet chattering. Cass had covered the microphone.
"It's a very personal story," she said, "I'd prefer not to answer and so does Sephiroth. Next question please."
"Oh..." the host seemed surprised, then shook it off, "of course. Uh...Does Sephiroth address you as his mother?"
"Yes," she said. There was another "aww".
"Do you address him as your son?" There was another pause.
"I call him Sephiroth mostly," she said, "I don't have any nicknames for him if that's what you mean. He's always been Sephiroth to me." Tseng smirked at the lie. Of course she would never say that in public.
"Are you proud of him?" the host asked, looking for the obvious answer and the responding "aww". Instead he got another pause.
"Yes," Cass said at last, "and no. Sephiroth is very good at what he does and every parent wants their child to succeed. At the same time, I'd be happier if his occupation was of a less violent nature. I worry for his safety and I can't help but sympathize with other parents in the same situation. Even if we are on opposing sides. There is nothing more tragic than a parent who outlives their child." There was another murmur of agreement. Then applause started. Tseng was surprised when Rufus joined in. The host nodded.
"Is there anything else you'd like to say?" he said.
"We're only human," Cass said, "we're only special because you made us out to be. In any other situation, Sephiroth and I wouldn't even be here before you, er...sort of. Sephiroth doesn't quite understand why he's popular. He doesn't understand why he gets sent letters and presents (which, by the way, he doesn't like chocolate so all of that has eventually come to me). He doesn't understand because he doesn't think he's done anything different than any other soldier. Please remember that. We're only human, there's not much that separates us from you except your apparent devotion. Please consider how that would feel if the tables were turned on you." There was quiet again, then more applause.
"Thank you," the host said, "I believe you've said enough." Tseng hoped so too.
Back at the tower, Cass pulled off the microphone and switched it off.
"Can we go home now?" Sephiroth asked. Cass nodded.
"Do you want to invite Angeal and Genesis?" she asked.
"No," he said, "I just want to be with you for awhile."
"Okay," Cass said, "let's go."