37. Resolutions

It was easier to enter the WRO building on Monday morning, probably because my mind was stuffed full with everything else that had happened since the break-in. A reminder of it was waiting on my computer, though, in the form of an email from Orin Faro.

Hi Tess,
I heard about the break-in. I assume you need to replace what was stolen. Why don't you come to Edge this week so we can discuss what you need?

I emailed him the list I had drawn up for the police and declined his invitation.

The break-in meant the lab routine was broken, too, until we had replaced our missing equipment. It would have been the perfect opportunity to plan out those projects I wanted to do, but I found it difficult to focus on them. Instead I launched a series of database searches related to Geostigma. The few results told me nothing new; the WRO wasn't involved in medical research, and Shinra had fallen apart before the Stigma struck, so their old records held nothing on it. I would have to find my information elsewhere.

After lunch, I stayed in the break room to leaf through Grigori's stack of the Kalm Herald. The issues went back almost two months, but reports on the Geostigma were sparse and focused on numbers. I asked Grigori himself about it, but he could only mutter more statistics. The biology of it was a medical issue, he thought, thus outside his field of expertise. He did confirm that while cases had been reported all over Gaia, the most severe outbreaks had been here, in the Midgar basin. In Cosmo Canyon, they had called it "the Midgar disease".

Once I got home I tried to call Reno, but I couldn't get through. The WRO was rebuilding the cell towers in the Midgar area, but with so much in need of reconstruction, progress was slow. Would we have had any at all without Shinra's gil, I wondered. How much of my own paycheck already came out of Rufus Shinra's pockets?

Somewhere in the back of my head, I could hear Rufus Shinra's smug chuckle.

I called again, after a quick dinner of the soup I had been too distracted to finish at lunch.

"Fitz, baby," Reno answered after two dial tones. "Whassup?"

Funny how just a few words in his lazy drawl could produce a pleasant flutter in my belly.

"Not much, I just wanted to talk. Is this a good time?"

"Sure. Rude's off on a job, so it's just me havin' a quiet night at the Cliff."

"You, having a quiet night? You're not sick, are you?" I teased.

"Believe it or not, it does happen. I'm just hangin' out on the couch, havin' a beer and watchin' a movie..." His voice dropped to a purr. "Wanna know what I'm wearin', too?"

In a heartbeat, the pleasant flutter flitted down lower.

"Maybe later," I chuckled. "I have something to ask you first. It's... about Rufus's offer."

"Shoot."

"He claimed that Jenova was involved somehow," I began, relieved that Reno wasn't making a big deal out of it. "Is that really true?"

The line was silent for a few beats.

"That's what the guy in charge of the science team says."

"Does he have any proof?"

"...'Fraid I can't give ya details like that 'til you're on the team. I can tell ya the Prez is pretty sure he's on to somethin', tho'."

Was this grounded in science and reason, or was this the desperate hope of a terminally ill man? I had begun to suspect the latter. He was willing to hire me based on little more than my word, after all.

"To be honest, tho'," Reno added with a sigh, "the reason I wanna see you on the team is 'cause I don't trust this Kilmister guy one bit. Not sure his science ethics are where they oughta be, yo."

"Why? Was he one of Hojo's underlings?"

"Nah, it ain't that."

"What, then?" My voice was pitched too high. How little it took to knock me off balance.

Reno sighed again.

"Look, nothin' dangerous, 'kay? The guy likes to get hyped up, s'all. Trouble is, he's been usin' for so long it just puts him to sleep. Dude ain't gonna do much sciencin' if he keeps takin' naps, y'know?"

I blinked, unable to tell which part of his revelation was more baffling.

"Hyped up?" I finally asked. "As in Hyper?"

"Uh huh."

"As in the Hyper that's in my suit?"

"That's the stuff."

"Seriously? Reeve put an addictive drug in my suit?" And Reno acted as if this was no big deal?

"Relax, babe. Once or twice ain't gonna get ya hooked."

"Once or twice? What if I'd shot up all six ampoules at once?"

"Then Sparky would've warned ya 'bout heart attacks or somethin'. Look, it takes a while to form a habit with this stuff, 'kay? Mostly you see it in veterans from the Wutai War, and those guys were usin' way too often and way too long."

"So this Kilmister has been using too often and too long, too? And Rufus Shinra listens to him?"

"Ain't like the Prez has much of a choice. It's real hard findin' people who know anythin' about Hojo's work."

I paused. Knowing Shinra's penchant for secrecy, there was only one way a scientist would know what Hojo had been doing.

"Hang on. Are you saying Kilmister worked under Hojo after all? You actually have Hojo's people? And you want me to work with them?"

"Hojo's former people, 'kay? They all quit workin' for him for one reason or another. Just so ya know, ain't no one left of Hojo's last crew. They all got blown up by Diamond Weapon or disappeared soon after."

"And if you do find one of them? Someone who worked on me?"

"If we find someone who touched ya, they ain't got long to regret it. Count on it."

Just like that, Reno's voice had gone cold. The change was so sudden, so complete, that it always caught me unprepared.

"Don't joke about that," I mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

"Who says I'm jokin'?"

"What's wrong with handing them over to the authorities?"

"Hand 'em over for what, exactly? Crimes against humanity?" He wheezed out a dry laugh. "These guys worked for Shinra. Ya think the Prez wants PR like that?"

"That's all that matters? PR?"

"I ain't sayin' it's right, 'kay? I'm sayin' that's the way things are. Gotta work with what you got, y'know?"

My fingers tightened around the phone. Maybe that was how things were. It was time things changed.

"Look, no one on Kilmister's team knows ya," Reno continued. "I checked. You'd be safe workin' for the Prez."

I couldn't help a hollow laugh.

"Right. All I'd have to worry about is human experimentation, a junkie boss and a manipulative asshole of a CEO. What a dream job."

"Yeah, well... Do your job right, and the hypo ain't gonna be your boss for long. The Prez is itchin' to be rid of him. Might give ya a shot at runnin' the show, y'know. Your show, your rules, yo."

That gave me pause. My show meant I could decide the research team's policies, but... this Kilmister would only be on the payroll as long as he was useful. What would happen to me, when my scientific skills ceased to be of use to Rufus Shinra? Would he decide to dig deeper into my alien cells in search of salvation?

The irony was that there was nothing wrong with that option in theory, as long as I had a say in the process. As long as I could trust it was just a matter of blood and cell samples, taken with my consent. Rufus Shinra hadn't earned that trust. Far from it. Nothing I had seen during our meeting, or heard from Reno, indicated that his Dear Leader would let ethics get in the way of his goals.

"You still there, babe?"

As Reno's question roused me from my thoughts, I realized my shoulders had gotten tense enough to ache. I needed to calm down or there would be no hope of sleeping tonight.

"I'm here... So, what's this movie you're watching?"

"Huh?"

"You said you were watching a movie."

"Oh, yeah. It's some old cop movie about these two buddies who get set up by the bad guys, and they gotta..."

I lay down on the couch, closed my eyes, and focused on his voice. He may not have been telling one of his own stories, but the effect was the same. After a while I turned on my TV and we watched the rest of it "together", stretched out on our couches, chatting and laughing over the phone. By the time we said goodnight, the smile had returned to my face.

In the morning, one thing was clear. All I had that pointed to the Jenova connection were Rufus Shinra's claims, and I refused to make decisions based on the word of a professional manipulator. My first goal was to verify if his claims were actually true – from a source that wasn't on his payroll. I had no tangible reason to doubt what Reno had told me so far, but fact-checking was Research 101.

I called the local clinic. They were quick to foist my questions off to Edge Central – which had just set up a research unit with the aid of that large donation I had read about in the Edge newspaper. I had my suspicions of who their nameless benefactor could be.

Next was Reeve, for whom I had many questions: about the Geostigma, about the dangling carrot of Rufus Shinra's funding, about loading up my suit with a cocktail of addictive drugs without warning me. When I called, though, I got Cait Sith again. Reeve was in a meeting, and would be off on a business trip straight after. I told Cait I would call again next week.

"Oh, one more thing before ya go." Cait Sith cleared its throat. "'Keep a watchful eye on the horizon. Coming events may cast their shadows long before.'"

"Cait," I said, stifling my laughter. "That's not a prophecy. That's just common sense dressed up in fancy words."

"Aye, but the fancy words are half the work!"

"Well, in that case, here's one for you: an empty box in pretty wrapping is still an empty box."

"Er... Of course it is. What's yer point?"

The toy cat sounded genuinely perplexed. I shook my head and smiled.

"Think on it."

That afternoon, I hurried downstairs as soon as I heard the rumble of the quad bike in the yard. I found Chelsea alone in the shed that served as our garage. We hadn't talked in private since our chance meeting by the Meteorfall memorial, and I couldn't help but be wary around her still. Her greeting was friendly, though, and thus encouraged, I asked her about the Geostigma.

"Dunno much, I'm afraid," she said as she lifted her things out of the quad bike's new trailer. "I only moved here after the worst outbreaks, when they'd already begun shipping patients off to Edge."

I had expected an answer like that; my real goal wasn't to pick her brains, but someone else's.

"You said you had a friend in ARK, right? Would they know anything about it?"

"Well, Jules sure knows more than me. She runs the triage tent at the camp."

"She's a doctor?" My eagerness was making me talk too fast.

"Not exactly," she said, handing me a lidded box of hard plastic, containing the day's samples. "She's ex-military, served as a medic in the Wutai War."

I gave her a curious look.

"You mean she fought for Shinra? And you're friends?"

She snorted, or maybe scoffed, as she slung a backpack over her shoulder.

"I did say ex-military."

I sensed a story there, but I could ask some other time. Right now I had other things on my mind.

"Do you think she'd mind if I asked her about the Stigma?"

Chelsea was heading out of the shed, but she stopped to give me an enquiring look.

"What's with this sudden interest?"

"Oh, it's... nothing, really. Just. Curious?" My blathering was making me cringe. "Sorry," I added with a laugh. "I'm sounding weird, aren't I?"

"A bit, yes." The corners of her mouth twitched.

"Sorry," I said, smiling weakly. "I've been wound up since the break-in. I haven't been able to do much in the lab, so I've been thinking about possible projects for the future."

"So you want to study the Stigma?"

"I'm just gathering data at this stage," I said with what I hoped was a casual shrug. "Trying to figure out if it's something the 'RO could tackle."

"Well, I'm sure Jules won't mind a few questions." Chelsea stepped out of the shed and rolled the double doors shut once I had followed her outside. "You know, we're both helping out at dinner on Friday," she added as she locked up. "How about you come along?"

"Where?"

"Outside. ARK's field kitchen."

It took me a second to understand what she meant. It took a few more to realize she was serious about it. My stomach did a little flip.

"At the camp? But what about the Stigma?"

Chelsea gave me a wry smile.

"Don't believe all the rumors you hear within the walls. Jules says she hasn't seen a single new case in the past two months."

"And the old ones?"

"You'll have to ask her about that, but I've been volunteering all summer and I haven't caught so much as a cold. Believe me, the camp isn't the festering sore the locals make it out to be."

I suspected Chelsea's immune system was on a different level from my own, but if I wanted to talk to this friend of hers, I would have to put my money where my mouth was. Besides, I only needed to ask some questions. It would be no different from talking to Rufus Shinra. I had survived that, hadn't I?

"All right," I said. "Let's do it."

Tyco had the week off for a road trip to Junon, so with no cooking lessons to occupy my evenings, I spent a couple of them tending my garden. It was easier to organize my thoughts out in the yard; the task felt less frightening while I was surrounded by healthy, growing things.

On Wednesday, I was kneeling by the flowerbed when Elmyra came back from shopping. As we chit-chatted about gardening, a memory came back to me. I'd had my hands full with a plywood box that time, not weeds, and the woman on the other side of the brick wall had been my less congenial neighbor.

"Mrs. Cole once mentioned the people who lived here before me," I said. "Did you know them?"

Elmyra looked up at my house with a slight frown.

"No, not really. I talked to the Odells a few times, but they moved away before I got to know them."

"She told me they moved because their son died of the Geostigma."

"That's right," Elmyra said, nodding with a sad sigh. "Terrible, it was. It was before we had any medicine for it, so I gave them some tea with ginger and gysahl greens. They said it helped him sleep better."

"He was allowed to stay at home?"

"Well, this was before the council decided to send all the Stigma patients to Edge. The Odells took Gilliam there when he got worse, though, hoping to find better doctors."

"The doctors here couldn't do anything for him?"

"There was one who took on Stigma cases back then. The Odells called him to the house when Gilliam first fell ill. Pleasant-looking fellow, he was. He moved away, though. To work in Edge, I guess."

I dropped the weeds and sat back on my heels to give Elmyra my full attention, feeling a flicker of excitement.

"Do you know his name?"

"No, sorry. Lizzie might know more about it. She knew the family well. I'll check if she's home yet."

She scurried off before I could come up with a polite way to decline. I wasn't opposed to talking with Mrs. Cole, but I would have preferred to exhaust all the more pleasant sources of information first. Too late now, though. I turned back to the weeds, yanking them out of the soil as I planned the smallest possible set of questions in my head.

A few minutes later Elmyra showed up again. Instead of Mrs. Cole, she brought two steaming cups with her. I let out a small sigh of relief.

"Lizzie's not home," she said and raised the mugs, "but I took the chance to brew us a little something. Time for a nice break, don't you think?"

I welcomed the respite from the turmoil in my head, too. I took the mug she offered me and peeked at the liquid inside. It was bright yellow, its scent sweet and rich.

"Chamomile?"

"That's right. You could grow some yourself, you know, along there." Elmyra pointed at the brick wall between our gardens. "They would fit the white and yellow you already have, too."

A few weeks ago she had showed me a basketful of chamomile she had gotten from a friend. White petals that circled a rounded yellow bump, with a tangle of bright green, frond-like leaves. I tried picturing their fresh colors against the burnt orange of the bricks.

"Not a bad idea," I said, smiling, as I sat down on the front door steps. "That can be my spring project."

"So... How are things with your red-haired friend?" Elmyra asked once we sat side by side, soaking up the last rays of the evening sun. "I saw him waiting for you by his bike one evening, but that was some time ago."

"I think we're getting somewhere," I said with a wry chuckle. "It hasn't been easy, though."

"Is it the distance? He lives in Edge, doesn't he?"

I fell silent for a while, pondering what to say. I could hardly explain my involvement with Shinra and the Turks to her, after all her family had been through. It occurred to me that all my friends and acquaintances would be biased one way or another. A neutral opinion of Shinra was hard to find.

Elmyra was watching me, I realized.

"I was engaged," I blurted out. "Before Meteorfall. He died."

I had no idea where that came from. The words just tumbled out in a rush to come up with something I could tell her.

Elmyra sucked in her breath.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"So am I." My lip curled. "Four years of working for a future together. And it all came to nothing."

Her face fell, and too late I remembered. Her own husband had died in the Shinra-Wutai war, barely two years into their marriage.

"Oh, Tess, you mustn't think of it as time wasted. It didn't go as you'd hoped, but that doesn't mean your time together had no meaning." She rubbed my shoulder. "He'll always be a part of you, even if you find new happiness."

He would be, wouldn't he? That was the problem.

"Cherish the good times," she continued. "You'll always have those. Cherish them, but don't let them keep you from being happy again. He may be gone, but you're not."

I was close to snapping that there had been no good times, only lies, when the memory of a red rose flashed in my mind. It had been a gift to celebrate our second anniversary. I had never figured out how James had managed to find a real live rose.

That memory was soon joined by others. Sweet ones. Fond ones.

This was the real problem, I realized with a start. It had been good, before everything went so wrong. James had shown me that even on a dying world, there could be more to life than working to survive and partying to forget. He had been there for me when I lost Camille. That James hadn't been a bad person.

Had that been the real him, though? It surprised me how much I wanted it to be true. It could have been true. Sometimes, good people just made bad choices.

"He surprised me with a rose once. One red rose."

I spoke hesitantly. Tentatively. How long had it been since I had spoken of James without anger and spite?

"Just the one?" Elmyra asked. "Not one for grand gestures, was he?"

"Oh, he definitely was. Just not much of a hearts-and-flowers man."

"Well, you know what they say. One red rose for love. Mind you, that might depend on where you're from. My Dorian brought me a bouquet of yellow roses once. Couldn't for the life of him understand why I got upset, until I told him yellow roses meant an apology for something really bad. Turned out they meant joy and happiness back in his hometown."

She laughed, and I smiled. It felt strange, smiling while thinking of James, but as we shared more memories of our old loves, the smiles came easier.

The following evening, I picked a single poppy from my garden and headed to Mythril Park.

"I'm not ready to forgive you, you son of a bitch," I murmured, gazing at the marble family, "but we had four years together. They were hard years, desperate years, and what we had gave me something to believe in. You gave me hope. I loved you." I ran my fingertips over the red petals. "And you loved me. You weren't lying about that, were you? For that... Thank you."

I studied the flower in my hands, allowing myself a moment to long for old dreams, bitter and broken. Then I placed it at the edge of the floral sea and walked away.