Dear readers, I won't be updating for a while, because I'll be travelling, so here's the next chapter.

CHAPTER 37: RUFUS, IN DISGUISE AND OUT OF IT
In which Rufus gets his wish (or one of them, at least), Aviva tries to act positively, and suspicions are raised all round

Reno came into the surveillance room soon after eleven o'clock that night, carrying a Turk suit over his arm and holding a dark wig and a pair of sunglasses in his hands. Seeing him, Rufus said, "Ah," in a tone that managed to communicate both satisfaction and impatience, as if to ask, what took you so long?

"Get changed," said Reno, holding out the dark blue trousers and jacket, the white shirt, the grey tie.

"Where are we going?"

Without another word, Reno put the clothes into Rufus' hands. Rufus did not ask again. He changed swiftly, folding the various layers of his discarded white suit in a neat pile on the foot of his bed. The little cat wove itself around his ankles, twitching its tail anxiously.

Rufus took his time in front of the mirror, knotting and re-knotting the silk tie until it met his exacting standards. Reno, who was not in any hurry, lounged against the doorpost, making no effort to hide his amusement. "Like what you see, V.P.?"

"I had no idea your shirts were such good quality." Rufus ran a hand down the softness of his sleeve. Then he lifted the jacket from the bed, remarking, "It seems unusually heavy."

"It's the mythril in the weave. You get used to it."

"So they are bullet-proof?"

"I wouldn't stake my life on it. Materia resistant, maybe, but that's about it."

Rufus put on the jacket, and turned from side to side to check both profiles in the mirror. "How do I look?"

"Like a rich kid on his way to a costume party. You gotta rough it up a little. Roll up the sleeves. Untuck the shirt. Make it look like you've been working in it. OK, now put on the wig and the shades."

Rufus did so, and was instantly transformed into someone almost unrecognizable.

"Heh," grinned Reno. "You'll do. All right, let's go." He gave Rufus a prod between the shoulder-blades with the butt of his rod – not a rough jab, more of a friendly nudge, the kind he might give to Skeeter, or Tys, or Veev, just to keep them in line. "C'mon, V.P., let's move it."

While Rufus was thus busy disguising himself, over in apartment 32 on Warehouse Street Aviva had torn off her very expensive pink satin halter dress, thrown it onto the floor, and flung herself face down on the bed dressed only in her white cotton knickers. Her case of knives lay open on the bed beside her.

Long gone were the Loveless posters and boy band pin-ups that had once brightened her walls; the first thing she'd done when she came home from hospital was tear them all down. Then she'd got a big cardboard box, stuffed her character plushies and moogle cushions into it, and shoved it out of sight under her bed. She was a woman now: she had to put away childish things.

At this exact moment she was thinking that maybe tomorrow she should take her box of toys down to one of the company's orphanages in the slums. There was no point in hanging on to it any longer. She'd have to travel light from now on; they all would. Mr. Tseng had said they were all going to have to move out from whichever addresses they had on file in H.R., because those records made it too easy for their enemies (Director Scarlet, and that hairy slug Heidegger) to catch them sleeping. And they were going to have to keep on moving, because nowhere would be safe for long –

But Aviva didn't want to look that far into the future. The prospects were too grim. They had to save the Commander – she hadn't hesitated for a moment when Mr Tseng put the question to her, and she'd say yes all over again if he asked her now – but, oh God, what if she lost this lifein consequence? What if that was the debt she had to pay, a life for a life: the life the Chief had given her, in return for his? Shinra was every good thing that had ever happened to her. Could she really find the strength to give it up? She hadn't forgotten what it was like out there, beyond the bright lights of Midgar's reactors and the warmth of Shinra Inc.'s embrace.

Her fingers closed around one of the knife handles and gripped it tightly. Part of her mind was protesting that it wasn't fair, but such objections were also childish things. She'd had some good years, wonderful years, better than anything she had dared to hope for during her days of debt-bondage in Corel. Millions of people never got to have as much as she'd been blessed with. She should be grateful –

I'm sick of being grateful, she thought, hurling the knife at the dartboard opposite. The force of a lifetime's pent-up rage was in that throw: her knife flew true and fast and lodged itself, quivering, in the bull's-eye.

God, she thought viciously, I wish that dartboard was her face…

Had her fellow Turks been in some sort of conspiracy against her tonight? Because it sure felt like it. First of all Skeeter had come along for drinks when she was expecting to have Charlie to herself, and then Tys and Hunter had shown up, one five minutes after the other, faking surprise at seeing each other when it was totally obvious that they'd just got out of being in bed together –

(And what was up with that, anyway? Why was Mr Tseng playing deaf and blind? The moment the two of them had come back from Cosmo Canyon it was obvious what was happening between them. Everybody was talking about it. Just the other day Cavour had said, "Well, if you look at it one way Tys has done us all a favour. She's been a whole lot nicer to work with since he started giving her some," and Reno had replied, "Yeah, thank God somebody's finally found a good use for that big mouth of hers," and Aviva had felt guilty for giggling, because it wasn't really a laughing matter. She didn't even want to think about how ugly the inevitable bust-up was going to be. Nobody needed that kind of drama right now. Frankly, she thought Tys and Hunter were being totally unprofessional and self-indulgent, and Mr Tseng ought to get them into line, like the real Commander would have done.)

- and then what else did they all have to start gossiping about but today's hottest topic of conversation: the return from the dead of The Evil One….

Not that Aviva had really believed Reno, not for a minute. Things that sounded too good to be true, usually weren't. She'd put off double-checking with Rude, because… well, because she'd been afraid to open that can of worms, afraid that Rude might ask who told you that? Or, worse: Veev, is something the matter? The way she was feeling these days, she was in danger of spilling her guts all over anyone who showed her the tiniest shred of sympathy.

She'd come this close to it tonight, with Charlie. Tys, Skeeter and Hunter had been gossiping away about That Woman and whether she was going to come back to Midgar and how Reno would take it if she did, when all of a sudden Charlie had said to her, "It's late; you must be hungry. Let's go eat," and hurried her off to their usual restaurant with an attentiveness that made her uneasy – like he was more worried about her feelings than she had given him any reason to be.

The suspicion had been growing in Aviva for some time now that Charlie knew. All those hours he'd spent sitting by her bedside in the nursing home, when she'd probably been talking in her sleep… It made her squirm inside just thinking about what he might have heard. And for months now, ever since she'd woken up, he'd been nagging her to get a transfer and come work with him in Junon. Tonight he had raised the topic again. Right after they'd ordered and the waitress had taken their menus he'd stared talking about how dangerous things were going to get in Midgar soon, and how crucial it was to the success of Mr Tseng's plan that the second string of Turks in the Junon office appear untainted by any hint of insubordination -

"Did Mr Tseng say he wants to get rid of me?" she demanded. "Does he think I'm not up to the job any more? Is that it?"

"Aviva…" Charlie laid his hand over hers. "Of course not. But I think it would be better for you to put some space between yourself and this town."

"Do you think I'd just run away and leave everyone else to face the danger? For God's sake, Charlie! I'd die for Commander Veld. We all would!"

"Sssh, keep your voice down." He glanced around. "I think it would be better for you to leave Midgar for all sorts of reasons. You could do with a change of scene. Meet some new people – "

"I don't want new people!"

"Yes," said Charlie gently, "I know."

Panic rose in her then. All it needed was another word or two, a little more kindness on his part, and the truth would come pouring out of her; she'd be helpless to stop it. Escape was her only hope. Pushing back her chair, she had shouted something embarrassingly childish like "Stop trying to run my life for me," and had fled from the restaurant, kicking off her high heels and running blindly through the streets until her feet found their own way home.

Home. Such a sweet word.

This little studio was her home. Shinra was home.

But not for much longer.

On a sudden impulse, she slid to the floor, reached under the bed, and dragged the box of toys into the light. Thrusting her hand in, she rummaged around until she found, right at the bottom, her favourite velveteen tonberry. This one I'll keep, she promised herself, clutching it tight against her chest. Just one. To remind me of what it felt like to be fifteen, when I woke up every morning knowing I was the luckiest girl in the world.

Now, I just want to kill something.

Which was, on second thoughts, not such a bad idea. Getting up and doing something had to better than lying here feeling sorry for herself. Killing things was her job, after all. And Midgar was never short of monsters. Jumping up from the bed, Aviva threw on her suit, adding her materia bracer and her hip holsters as well as her knives, and put a small flashlight into her breast pocket. She would go down inside the plate, she decided – there were always bugs in there, and if she was lucky she might find a chitin or one of the claws. She hated those monstrosities even more than she hated sahagin. If she could make the world a slightly better place tonight by eliminating a couple of devil claws, then maybe her evening would not longer feel like such a complete disaster.

It was only just past midnight; the night was young. The pavement cafes and bars of Sector Eight were crowded with customers. A party atmosphere prevailed. Aviva strode boldly along Loveless Avenue, enjoying the looks her suit drew and the sensation of being someone important, a Turk on a mission. Whatever else might change, that pleasure, surely, would never grow stale.

All at once she heard a voice that made her dart for cover into the nearest doorway. It was Charlie… and it sounded like he was just around the corner, talking to somebody. Crouching close to the ground, Aviva inched forward, holding her breath so as to hear better. Charlie's voice was deep; she couldn't quite make out what he was saying.

Now the other person spoke. It was a woman, and her voice sounded very familiar, though it took Aviva a couple of moments to realize that it was, in fact, her colleague Mink.

That two Turks should bump into each other on the streets of Sector Eight and stop to chat was not surprising, and yet… There was something in the way they spoke to each other, something in their tone (because Aviva still could not make out the words) that suggested this was more than a casual conversation. Aviva wiggled a little further forward, and peeked one eye around the corner.

Mink was in her suit. Charlie was still wearing his dinner jacket. She was nearly as tall as he was, and they were standing very close together, almost toe to toe, occupying each other's space in a way that strongly implied a longstanding knowledge of each other that neither of them had ever given Aviva any reason to suspect they shared.

Even as the stiletto of jealousy pierced Aviva's heart (completely unreasonably, since she did not love Charlie in that way – but even so, dammit, she had thought she was his special one), Mink bent down and picked up a suitcase that Aviva hadn't noticed before, and then the Legend leaned over, said something in Mink's ear, kissed her cheek (not exactly like a lover, thought Aviva, but then again, how would she know?), turned on his heel and came walking so rapidly towards Aviva's hiding place that all she could do was close her eyes and freeze. He swept past without noticing her; she held her breath while his footsteps faded into the distance, then jumped to her feet and took another look round the corner. Mink was gone.

Puzzled, and more than a little angry, Aviva stared at the spot where Mink and Charlie had been standing only moments ago. What was going on between them? When had they got to know each other so well? And why had Charlie kept it a secret? What else hadn't he told her? In fact, now that she came to think of it, what did she actually know of Charlie's life? Only what was common knowledge. He never talked about himself. The closest he ever got to it was telling her funny stories about office life in Junon.

Well, fine. If he had a right to his secrets, then so did she. He shouldn't go poking his nose into other people's private business unless he wanted the same done to him. After all, she'd never asked him to adopt her. He'd just kind of waltzed into her life and kept trying to take it over, which really was pretty goddamn arrogant of him, just like Reno always said…

And where was Mink off to with that suitcase? Was she moving out? Already?

"The Turks are out in force tonight," said a woman drinking a cocktail at a table nearby. The man across from her turned to look over his shoulder as he replied, "If there's going to be trouble, maybe we should head home."

Aviva followed their line of sight and saw Reno standing under the Clock Arch, accompanied by a tallish, dark-haired Turk whom she did not recognize. They were both facing in her direction. Reno held his rod in his left hand. He saw Aviva, and beckoned for her to come over. She walked towards them, eyeing up the strange Turk the whole time. There was something familiar about him, something in the way he carried himself which reminded her a little bit of Charlie's cool confidence, but even more of Mr Tseng's pantherish grace.

Reno was looking extremely pleased with himself, always a sign that some dodgy game was afoot. "Hey Veev," he said, "I didn't know you were on duty tonight. Wasn't your Sugar Daddy supposed to be buying you dinner?"

"That was earlier. Now I'm bug-hunting." She looked up at the strange Turk with unabashed curiosity. Though the sunglasses masked the top half of his face, she could have sworn she had seen that firm mouth and chin, and that delicately chiseled nose, somewhere before. "Hi there," she said. "Have we met? I'm sure I know you."

Reno's grin had widened to the point where it was threatening to split his face in two. "Don't stare, Veev, it's rude. He's our new recruit. I'm showing him round Sector Eight. Wanna come? We're going to the reactor."

"Sure. I was going there anyway."

"I wouldn't mind a drink first," said the strange Turk.

Aviva's jaw dropped. The smirk was instantly wiped from Reno's face; he slapped a gloved hand over her mouth and warned, "Don't blow the gaffe, Veev," before turning to Rufus with a hissed, "I said no talking."

"Ah yes, you did. You'll have to forgive me: this fresh air is going to my head."

Aviva tried to pull her face from Reno's grip, but he wasn't letting go. To Rufus he said, "Let's keep moving."

"You have your job to do, Reno; I understand that," Rufus replied. "And I appreciate that Tseng is anxiously awaiting confirmation from you that this mission has been successfully completed. But try to see it from my point of view, just for a moment. This is the first time I've been outside in over three years, and it will probably be the last for some time to come. Couldn't you let me have fifteen minutes?"

Aviva would have liked to speak, but Reno's fingers held her jaw clamped so tightly shut her teeth grated against each other . "I know what you're going to say," he told her. "So don't you even open your mouth. Understood?"

She hesitated, then nodded. He released her, and she took a step backwards, rubbing at her bruised, tingling jaw.

He asked Rufus, "Why should I?"

"Because it would mean a lot to me, and it would make no difference to you."

Reno screwed his mouth to one side as he weighed these words. Then he said, "You have to promise not to try any funny business. Veev and I are both armed."

"When have I ever tried to get away?"

True enough; the two Turks acknowledged it with a shared glance. Reno said, "OK then. Fifteen minutes. We'll go to the Goblins."

"Sounds good to me," said Rufus.

The pub was only a short walk away. Reno headed for the front door, but Rufus hung back and said, "Let's stay outside."

Reno looked round. "There's nowhere to sit."

"This table is free, sir," said the landlord, appearing out of nowhere by Reno's side and gesturing at the table closest to them. "These people were just leaving. Weren't you?"

The couple looked up, saw the suits and jumped to their feet, grinning like frightened monkeys. "That's right, work day tomorrow, gotta hit the sack."

"Come again soon!" the landlord called after them. "Drinks on the house!" He swept the tablecloth, gathered up the empty glasses, and snapped his fingers for a waitress to bring an extra chair. "Now, gentlemen, young lady - what'll it be?"

"The usual," said Reno. Rufus and Aviva had already sat down. Reno folded himself into his chair, resting one foot on his knee; the other knee jutted out like a set square, a menace to passers-by. Aviva could see from the scowl on his face that he was already regretting his momentary impulse of – what? Generosity? Compassion? Or maybe he'd just felt like a drink. And now they'd drawn attention to themselves. People might remember; that couple, turfed off their table, would certainly remember. Not good.

The landlord returned with three ice-cold pints of Zolom XXX and a triple of neat whiskey. He set this down in front of Reno, who threw it back in one gulp and slouched deeper into his chair.

Rufus was sitting very upright, looking around, taking everything in. Filling his eyes, thought Aviva. He'd been staring at the same walls for three and a half years. She wondered what that must feel like. What was he feeling right now? Better? Worse? Didn't fifteen minutes of phoney freedom make the years harder to bear, not easier?

Did Rufus Shinra ever feel like he'd been left out? Like things were moving on and people were keeping secrets from him? Like he was running as hard as he could just to catch up?

But if he does, she reminded herself quickly, it's his own fault.

Rufus released a heartfelt sigh. His eyes were trained on the Shinra Building. "So ugly," he remarked. "Isn't it? Do you know what it reminds me of? A gigantic pupating insect. I must say, I've never really understood the principle behind the design of this city. Why go to all the trouble of building a metropolis that looks like a flying saucer if you're then going to make its streets look like something out of the middle ages? If it had been left up to me, I'd have given the whole thing a more consistently futuristic ambience. Take those doors there – " he swept his hand wide, indicating the entire street – "They look antique, don't they? That's because they are antique. Reeve had whole teams scouring the planet, buying them up. Of course, we took a fair few from the old towns down below… Not to mention the bricks and the roof-tiles. Nothing beats that authentically weathered look. My father thinks he's built a wonder for the ages. What do you think, Aviva? Do you like Midgar?"

Aviva didn't want to answer. The marks left on her jaw by Reno's fingers felt like they were turning into bruises, and the skin of her lips was still tingling where he'd touched her. His scowl had deepened. She wished the Vice-President would be quiet.

When it became obvious that she was not going to say anything, Rufus went on, "If I could live wherever I liked, I'd choose Junon. That's a town that doesn't pretend to be anything but what it is. And I've always liked the seaside. There's something magical about ports, don't you think?… the ships loading and unloading in the docks, the far horizons…. And the sunsets are spectacular down there. What about you, Aviva? Where would you choose to live? What's your favourite town? Or are you, perhaps, a country girl at heart?"

"Just drink your beer," said Reno, "And can the chit-chat. You've got five minutes left."

Rufus picked up his pint and sipped it. "What's Tseng doing tonight?" he asked.

"Work," Reno answered curtly.

"Does he still visit that girl in the church? The one who grows flowers? What was her name again? Edith – no, Ailish – "

"Aerith Gainsborough." It slipped from Aviva's tongue before she could stop herself. Reno gave her a dark look, and hunched his shoulders up higher.

"Gainsborough, that's it," Rufus smiled. "He used to have quite a soft spot for her, didn't he? But wasn't she dating that SOLDIER for a while – the one who was killed with Sephiroth in Nibelheim?"

A glance from Reno silenced any thoughts Aviva might have had about replying.

"That can't have been easy for her," Rufus went on. "She must have been so glad to have a rock like Tseng to lean on. Still, life goes on, and we all move on, don't we? I'm sure if anybody could console her, Tseng could. What do you think, Aviva? Has your Boss become more to her than a shoulder to cry on? Has he finally worked up the courage to confess his – "

"Time's up," said Reno, pushing back his chair. Aviva immediately rose to her feet. Rufus remained sitting. "I haven't finished my drink," he objected.

Reno's rod lay across his shoulder. "I don't want to knock you unconscious, V.P.," he said, "Because we've still got a way to go, and you're pretty heavy, and I don't want to have to carry you there. But I will do it, if I hear one more word from you. Now let's get moving." He gave Rufus another shove in the back, rougher this time.

Aviva led the way; Reno brought up the rear, with Rufus sandwiched between them. Rufus did not speak again until they came within sight of the reactor, its double doors guarded by four of Heidegger's Public Safety grunts. Seeing them, he halted, and put up his hand like a child in a classroom.

"What is it?" Reno sighed.

"Is this wise? Those troopers won't stop you entering, but if they're questioned later, they'll remember. Don't you know another way in?"

Reno looked annoyed, but all the same he gave the problem some thought. Then he nodded. "This way," he said. He led them back across Loveless Avenue into a quieter residential neighbourhood, the streets becoming progressively narrower as he turned left, then right, then left, until he finally brought them into a cul-de-sac where a manhole was set among the cobblestones. Kneeling beside it, Reno swiped his keycard through the magnetic reader. The manhole hissed open. Aviva climbed down first, followed by Rufus, and then Reno, who pulled the cover shut behind them.

Halfway down the ladder Aviva paused for a moment, wanting to take stock of her surroundings. The harsh lighting did not penetrate very far into the darkness. She could hear the sound of clawed feet scurrying through the shadows, and water dripping – a leaky pipe, probably.

"Keep moving," said Reno.

At the bottom of the ladder was an open storm drain clogged with all manner of junk: black plastic bags full of household garbage; a rusty shopping trolley from Robson's; someone's discarded red velvet curtains; the mummified corpse of a chuse tank; a giant wooden cable spool big enough to be a family dining table, and dozens of neon-coloured shinrafoam takeaway cartons. On the other side of the storm drain stood a battered white melamine chest. Reno jumped over the channel and gave it a kick. The lid sprang open. He reached inside, lifted out a bronze bangle green with verdigris, and offered it to Aviva. She shook her head. He tossed the bangle onto the rubbish bags, then reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a black silk hood.

Rufus stiffened. "That's not necessary. Please."

"Sorry, V.P.. Boss' orders. But look on the bright side. You can take that wig off now. Veev, you'll have to lead him."

Aviva felt awkward, taking the Vice-President's hand in hers as if he were a little boy. His palm was cool and dry, his skin less soft than she'd expected. He had a firm grip, and yet… She could sense the reluctance in him, the dislike of being touched, and it awoke in her that old kneejerk instinct to apologise: "Sorry, sir. But I have to."

"It's all right," he said. "I'm intrigued now. Lead on."

The going was difficult. In places their path was strewn with garbage or rubble, and Rufus often lost his footing. Several times they encountered flocks of monsters, but none of any interest. Reno killed eight or nine, and Aviva, not to be outclassed, took out a dozen more. They climbed up and down ladders, picked their way across flimsy catwalks, slid through the inside of pipes, and once rode an elevator down three levels. After walking for about half an hour they had reached that point, midway between reactors, where something close to silence prevailed, when Reno said softly, "Get down."

Aviva pushed Rufus behind the nearest crate. Reno crouched behind another, about three metres away. She looked a question at him. Something's following us, he mouthed back.

She turned round and whispered these same words to the black hood. Rufus' answer came muffled, "Tell him to go look. But be careful."

A jerk of her head and a quick motion with her thumb was all she needed to convey this to Reno. He nodded and slipped away, losing himself almost at once in the shadows of the tunnel. Aviva and Rufus waited, breathing quietly, saying nothing.

From a little distance away came the sounds of a scuffle, and Reno's voice reverberated off the concrete walls: "What the hell are you doing here? Come here, you – Oh, no you don't. How the fuck do you do that? Hah, gotcha! Not as smart as we think we are, are we?"

He appeared out of the darkness holding something fluffy and orange at arm's length. It writhed in his grip, snarling. "Mr Rufus!" Aviva exclaimed. "Your cat's followed you here!"

"Bloody nuisance," said Reno. "I hope no one saw it."

"Give him to me," said Rufus inside the hood. Reno thrust the angry cat into his arms. Its tail was fluffed to twice its natural size; its ears lay flat against its head. Rufus stroked a hand along its spine, over and over, until the fur went down and the ears came up and it began to purr, rubbing its face against his hooded cheek. Rufus set it on the ground. "He'll stay with us now. Let's go," he said, holding out his hand for Aviva to help him up.

Aviva hadn't been down to the bunker for months, but when they finally reached it she recognized the entrance from the coded arrangement of crates and barrels standing in the corner. Reno pushed on one of the wall panels; it slid open to reveal a short passageway leading to a second door, which was unlocked. Reno opened it, and stood back while Aviva guided Rufus inside.

The interior of the bunker was about as homely as a concrete box could be when it was buried deep inside a metal maze, lacked windows, and had been furnished almost entirely from cast-offs. The front room contained three sofas standing at right angles to each other on a large rectangle of speckled blue carpet, a remnant of the redecorating that had recently taken place in the City Planning Department. One of the sofas was upholstered in purple tartan, one had a pattern of kittens and pink roses, and one was covered in threadbare moss-green suedette. Aviva led the Vice President to the purple sofa, which looked the least saggy of the three, and helped him sit down. The little cat jumped into his lap.

"I sense that we have reached the end of our adventure," said Rufus. "Could I be allowed to take this hood off now?"

"Sure, knock yourself out," said Reno.

The knot gave Rufus trouble. Aviva went to help him. She'd just managed to get it over his head when Mink came walking in from one of the bedrooms. Aviva started in surprise, but the other two seemed to have been expecting her. Mink said to Rufus, "I'm still unpacking your things, sir."

Well, that explained the suitcase.

"Could I have a glass of water?" Rufus asked Aviva. She went into the kitchen, hunted through the cupboards for a glass, blew the dust out, filled it, put down a bowl of water for the cat, and returned to the sitting room. Mink was no longer there. Rufus had made himself comfortable on the sofa and was reading yesterday's Midgar edition of the Wutai Leviathan, which he had picked up off the coffee table. Reno was over by the pinball machine that stood against the far wall, feeling in his pockets for some change. Aviva handed him two five-gil pieces, and went in search of Mink.

The bedroom looked as stark as an army barracks. Two sets of narrow metal-framed bunkbeds with shinrafoam mattresses stood side by side on a floor of grey linoleum; there was a row of lockers against the back wall, and more of the white melamine storage chests standing either side of each bed. Only one of the bunks was made up. Aviva's first thought was, he's not going to like this.

Mink was standing with her back to the doorway, putting one of Rufus' suits on a wooden coathanger and hanging it up in the locker. This was Aviva's chance. How should she open the subject? Should she get straight to the point? Mink, how do you know Charlie? Or give the question some context? Mink, guess what? I saw you on the street with Charlie tonight and it looks like you guys know each other pretty well. So what's the story? Or make it sound as if she were merely teasing? Hey, Mink, what's up with you and the Legend, huh? Why so secretive, nudge nudge wink wink…

Mink turned round. "Hi," she smiled. Mink's smile was much warmer than it used to be; in fact, seeing her smile at all was a big improvement on the old days. "Can I help you?" she asked. "Do you need something?"

I thought I did, Aviva realized, but maybe I don't.

Mink had always been beautiful – and so tall; Aviva had envied her that. But she hadn't known, until she saw Mink smile, that the older woman could look pretty.

I thought you were just a hard person. But I was wrong. You were unhappy, weren't you? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't see it before.

Oh Mink, does Charlie make you happy?

"Veev? Are you OK?"

You're so lucky –

"Hey, wake up!" Mink waved a hand in front of Aviva's face.

Aviva blinked. "Yes – um, bathroom?"

"Through the office, on the left, next to the other bedroom."

"Oh, right, yeah. I forgot."

The bathroom was a riot of potluck colour: teal sink, peach toilet, bathtub a peculiar shade of grassy gold that had gone out of fashion before Aviva was born, making her wonder how something so old had found its way into upper Midgar in the first place. But everything was scrubbed clean and smelled of the piney air freshener that Rosalind (she presumed it was Roz, because it was the sort of thing Roz would do) had installed inside the toilet bowl.

She returned to the sitting room. Rufus was still absorbed in yesterday's paper. The cat on his lap was so fast asleep that its pink mouth hung slightly open, like a human commuter nodding off on a late-night train. Reno was working the pinball for all he was worth, shifting from foot to foot, fingers tapping madly, eyes glued to the silver ball as it ricocheted from paddle to cushion and up and over the bridge. Bells rang; lights flashed. His quick reflexes made him a superlative pinball player (sign of a misspent youth, he liked to say, as if anyone had ever suspected him of spending it any other way). With all the bonus balls he won, he could make five gil last half an hour.

Pushing off her shoes, Aviva curled into a corner of the floral sofa, tucking her feet up, and laid her head down on the frayed upholstery. They couldn't leave the Vice-President alone here, so she supposed they'd be spending the night. She'd slept in worse places. Hard places. Cold and lonely places. Some people might find it impossible to sleep with that racket from the pinball machine ringing in their ears, but she liked it. She liked hearing Reno curse, slam its sides, and crow with delight as the score racked up. He was happy, or at least he was having fun, which was almost as good. The sound of Reno's laughter filled her with the sense that all was right with the world. Stupid, she knew – but that was how it was.

Aviva was just slipping into that comfortable state halfway between wakefulness and dreams, when she heard Mink's voice say as if from far away, "You really should get going now," and then Reno exclaiming, "Yesssssss! High score! You beauty!"

"Before they go, can I ask something?" said Rufus.

Aviva opened her eyes.

Rufus had set aside his newspaper and was looking at Mink, who was standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He turned his head to include Reno. Then he turned back to Mink, and said, "Am I allowed to know why I've been moved here?"

Mink left the answering to Reno, who patted the pinball lovingly before turning around to say, "No can do, V.P. It's classified. Sorry."

"Classified? Classified by whom?" And before any of them could react to this unexpected question, Rufus went on smoothly, "Not, I think, by my father. I don't believe he has any idea that you've taken me out of the building. What's more, I would be extremely surprised to find he authorized the construction of this little hidey-hole. I doubt he even knows it exists."

Reno opened his mouth. No sound came out.

Mink tried to say, "The President instructed us – " but was cut short by Rufus waving a hand impatiently. "Don't waste my time with lies, please. There's no need, and it insults my intelligence. It's obvious that you've brought me here to hide me, and my guess is that you're hiding me from him. Or possibly Scarlet. Or both, perhaps? Why? To protect me….Or to negotiate? Am I your hostage now, Reno? Is that the current state of play?"

The three Turks said nothing. They were carefully avoiding each other's eyes. Even a glance, if intercepted, could give too much away. For Rufus was clever: they all knew that.

"No," said Rufus. "Not hostage. Leverage – that's the word I'm looking for." He sounded as if the thought pleased him. "Leverage against my father. Tseng's finally made up his mind. He's decided his loyalty lies with Veld, hasn't he? And you're all in it with him, of course. One for all and all for one, et cetera. And my old man can't do a damned thing about it as long as you have me."

Rufus smiled. It was a charming smile, full of warmth, irresistible; Aviva's felt her own lips twitching, and fought down the impulse to smile back.

He went on, "Well, I'm pleasantly surprised, I must say. I was honestly beginning to doubt whether Tseng had it in him. But there's a flaw in your plan, you know."

Aviva looked at Reno. He glanced at Mink. She shook her head. He looked back at Aviva, who was biting her lip.

"Fuck it," he muttered. "All right, V.P. What's the flaw?"

"Its success depends on keeping me alive."

There was a brief pause. "And…?" said Reno.

"I really don't think you've thought this through properly. Suppose I decided to walk out of here right now. How would you stop me? Shoot me?"

"Knock you out and tie you up," said Reno.

"You can try. But you should remember that, thanks to the training schedule you've made me follow these last few years, I'm in excellent shape physically, and I have naturally fast reflexes. I think I'd fancy my chances against any of you – especially if I took you by surprise and knocked you over the head with a lamp, or some such thing. Sooner or later the opportunity is bound to present itself."

"You'd never find your way back to the surface."

"All I'd need do is follow the sound of the reactors. Eventually I'd find a way out. " Rufus paused. "It seems to me that your choice is this. Either you work on the assumption that I'm not here voluntarily, which means that you will have to keep me chained up, or permanently in Sleep status, or something similar, for as long as it takes Tseng to fulfill his vow of filial piety – and speaking as the man who will one day sign your paycheques, I can tell you frankly that I won't take kindly to such treatment – or…."

Rufus allowed the alternative to hang unspoken in the air.

"Or what?" said Reno, who liked to have things spelt out for him.

"Or you can count me in."

Once again Reno and Mink exchanged glances. Up until this moment both of them had been giving the impression that they didn't expect this conversation to last long. Reno had remained standing by the pinball machine, and Mink had hovered in the bedroom doorway, seemingly impatient to go and do something else. Now, though, it looked as if the conversation might not be as brief as they'd anticipated. After a moment's hesitation, Reno walked over to the floral sofa and sat down beside Aviva, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Mink took up her stance behind them, her hands in her pockets, her weight thrown onto one hip. Three pairs of eyes, the turquoise, the reddish-brown, the dusky black, searched Rufus' face .

"What is it exactly that you want, V.P.?" asked Reno.

"Your trust," Rufus answered.

Reno snorted, "Trust?" in the same moment that Mink exclaimed, "You want us to trust you?"

"Yes," said Rufus. His voice was calm enough, but the colour was burning in his cheeks. "I realize it's a lot to ask."

"Trust isn't something you can ask for," Mink replied. "It has to be earned."

"I understand that. And I have tried to earn your trust. Surely you must see that if I'd chosen to I could have walked away from my punishment at any time? If my father had known what you were doing to me he wouldn't have left me in your charge another minute. I chose to stay, because I owed you and I knew it. Blood for blood. You've all seen me bleed. Every single one of you has my blood on his hands – except you, Aviva, but your proxies took your pound of flesh for you, I can assure you of that. And I submitted to it. Didn't I? I cooperated with you every step of the way. I have surrendered myself entirely to you. What more is left for me to give to prove to you that I'm sincere? If you can think of something, tell me."

Rufus fell silent. He looked, thought Aviva, as if there was much more he would have liked to say, but knew it was better not to.

Reno said, "Look, you gotta understand, V.P., we've got nothing against your Old Man. This isn't an uprising, or whatever it was you were hoping for. We're loyal to the company. It's just – "

"You're not one of us," Mink blurted, looking as surprised as anyone else at the words that had come from her mouth.

The spots of colour darkened on Rufus' cheeks. "Would you care to elaborate on that?" he said.

Everyone was staring at her. Mink breathed in. "Well… look at you, sir. You're wearing our suit, and you look like a million gil. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"I'm afraid I'm being unpardonably slow tonight. Please, enlighten me."

Mink threw a glance at the other two, inviting them to help her out. Reno, however, was sitting with his arms folded, waiting to hear what she had to say, and Aviva was gazing up at her with wide eyes, as if ready to hang on her every word.

Mink drew a deep, deep breath, and began:

"All right. It's like this, sir. For as long as I've been working here, you've been hanging around our department like… Well, like that cat there, looking for a home. I can see the appeal. Growing up the way you did must have been pretty lonely. So you put on that suit and it's like fulfilling a childhood dream, and you're happy because you can pretend to yourself that you belong to us at last. And I think you could easily go on deceiving yourself that you were one of us for as long as our ends coincided with yours - but the moment push comes to shove, I think you'd remember who you really are. I think you could sell us out, or watch us die, without a qualm, if it got you what you wanted. Though maybe not Tseng. I think you do truly care about what happens to him." Mink paused, but Rufus gave no sign of wanting to take her up on anything she had said, and after a moment she went on, "Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not trying to criticize you, sir. I think probably you need to be completely ruthless in order to run an empire like this. You can't afford to owe anything to anyone. That's the way it has to be. We understand that."

Again she hesitated, but nobody said anything. Their eyes remained fixed on hers, waiting for the rest. She took another deep breath. "It's not that we don't respect you, sir. I think I speak for everyone when I say that. No one could say that you haven't earned our respect. You've tried hard to wipe the slate clean. You're a lot tougher than we thought you'd be. You're persuasive and incredibly resourceful. And you're smart – in fact you're so smart it's odd you don't realize how it's these very qualities we respect in you that make it impossible for us to trust you. Don't you see that if we trusted you the way you're asking us to, we'd be fools? And what use would fools be to you?"

She was finished, but her gaze remained locked with his. Rufus had turned very pale. It was several moments before he found his voice. "I see," he said stiffly. "You've become quite articulate, Mink, haven't you? When you first joined us, you hardly uttered a word. I remember."

"People change, sir."

"Of course they do… Though I, apparently, cannot. Aviva – " His blue eyes were cold now, and shuttered, hiding his thoughts from them – "What about you? Do you agree with Mink?"

Aviva's tongue felt two sizes too big for her mouth as she cast about for an adequate reply. "I – I – I… It's hard to say, sir, because I was out of things for so long. I guess… It's always easier to forgive than to forget. But I'm loyal to Shinra, sir. And I take my orders from Mr Tseng."

"Look, V.P.," Reno cut in, "You can talk at us about this till you're blue in the face, but the bottom line is, we're not paid to trust you. When that day comes, then you can count on me."

"You mean the way my father counts on Tseng?"

It took several moments for the full implication of Rufus' question to sink in. Aviva felt her stomach churn; Mink clenched her fists, and Reno said hotly, "I told you, we're not traitors."

"Now who's deceiving themselves?"

"Shut up. It's not like that - "

"When a servant of this company sets his own judgement above a direct order given to him by the President, what else can one call it?"

Out of the corner of her eye Aviva saw Mink lay a hand on Reno's shoulder, ready to hold him down should the need arise. Aviva put her own hand on his arm: the muscles were like taut wires under his skin. Was it anger he felt? Fear? Aviva was feeling both. And punching the Vice-President in the mouth wouldn't help any, because the awful thing was, he was right…

Yet Reno held his voice steady as he replied, "I've told you before, Rufus. Don't you start trying to drive a wedge between us. And don't you ever, ever question Tseng's judgement in front of me again, or I swear, I will ram my rod so far down your throat it will come out your gold-plated arse. Do I make myself plain?"

"Your loyalty to your Director is laudable," Rufus replied without turning a hair. "But, Reno, haven't you learnt yet that uttering threats you can't follow through on merely makes you look weak? You can't touch me. Those days are behind us. You need me now. If you can't see that, then you are fools. You have set your feet on the road to disaster – "

Oh God, thought Aviva, yes, that's exactly what I'm afraid of….

" – And I am the only one who can save you. Eventually, Tseng will realize that. And therefore it follows that the real question is not whether you can trust me, but whether I can trust you."

Aviva felt Reno's fingers close around her wrist. "C'mon," he said, jerking her to her feet. "I'm not listening to any more of this. He'll have us thinking black's white next."

Rufus smiled, but this time he injected neither charm or warmth into it. "You flatter me."

Aviva hastily felt around with her feet for her shoes. "You gonna be all right here?" Reno asked Mink. She shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, Yeah, I can manage. He turned back to Rufus. "V.P., if you think you got something you want to negotiate, talk to Tseng's face, not behind his back."

"Tell him to come see me," Rufus replied.

It was worded like an order. It should have sounded like an order, and yet… Aviva could have sworn she detected a note of doubtfulness, or maybe hopefulness: an unspoken please.

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As always, thanks for reading, and, I hope, enjoying. If you'd like to review, don't be shy; reviews are lovely.