CHAPTER 54: REGARDING CURIOSITY AND THE CAT

In which Rude is resourceful, and Aviva makes a confession


Walking into the Rosebud Revuebar at the Honeybee Inn was like walking slap into a solid wall of heat and noise. Aviva's stomach immediately began to churn. As the trainee Honeybee led them to their table, she tried taking deep breaths, but the knowledge that she was inhaling the exhalations of dozens of strangers, hot from their lungs, humid with perspiration, and dirty with cigar smoke, did nothing to make her feel better. Gratefully she sank into her seat, though what she really wanted was to lie face down on the thick red carpet. The air was bound to be cooler down there.

"They need to turn on the air conditioning," she said.

"It is on," said the Honeybee, giving her a funny look.

"You OK, Veev?" asked Reno.

"How much did you give her?" Rude asked him.

"Hey, c'mon. She's hardly had anything."

"Right. You're drunker than she is."

"And you're uglier than I am, but there's no materia for that. Here, Veev, take this." Reno unscrewed the top from one of his potions and handed it to her. She swallowed it as fast as she could, trying to get it down her throat before her taste buds could register its bitterness. She was sure she was going to throw up.

"We should take her out of here," said Rude.

"But she doesn't want to go," said Reno. "You want to stay with Uncle Reno, don't you, Runt?"

Gamely Aviva nodded.

"See? Man, I'm thirsty. I'll have a pint of Old Ramuh," Reno told the waitress.

"Same for me," said Rude, "And a black coffee."

"You got it," the Honeybee replied, winking at Rude. As she walked away, she put a little swing into her hips, jiggling her stinger provocatively.

"Looks like you're in with a chance there," Reno observed. "Wonders will never cease."

The potion had helped to settle Aviva's stomach. Feeling a little brighter, she began to look around, but there was nothing new to see; nothing had changed since the last time she was here, four months ago, on a bodyguarding assignment with the President. The room was a hexagon, like a cell from a honeycomb, and felt smaller than it really was because it was so crowded. Curtains of heavy gold brocade hung all the way around the walls, but did little to absorb the noise. The high vaulted ceiling, frescoed with soft porn scenes in pastel hues, rested on the heads of several dozen gilded pillars carved in the shape of voluptuous young women. Chandeliers hung low over every table, their soft light shimmering as they swayed gently on their chains. Aviva had noticed last time that each of the cut-glass drops held a little rainbow. She'd spent a lot of time with her eyes averted, studying those chandeliers, so as not to have to look at what was happening on the stage.

Right now a dozen worker bees were up there performing a wiggle dance. They shook their velvet stingers and caressed their own bodies with every appearance of erotic enjoyment, despite the fact that nobody in the audience looked very interested. Aviva knew exactly what would happen next; she'd seen the whole show the last time she was here. Soon the music would pick up the beat, and then the queen would buzz in, strip down to her black and yellow g-string, select a partner from the line-up of gleaming oiled drones in bow ties, and an orgy of choreographed panting and gasping would ensue.

Aviva had wondered last time – and wondered again now; would always wonder – why anyone would pay to watch such fakery. The Old Man had certainly enjoyed himself, so much so that at the end of the evening he'd tucked a thousand-gil note under the queen's g-string. Aviva had cringed inwardly for her, but she wasn't proud of this feeling; she didn't want to start judging other women just because she'd been lucky and they hadn't. Besides, giving the money to someone who'd worked for it was better than using it to light a cigar, she supposed.

"This place keeps getting tackier and tackier," said Reno, plucking that one thought from the many in her mind. As he spoke, he took out the baggy of dragon fang and shook one into his palm.

Rude's big fist closed round Reno's hand. "You've had enough."

"Fuck you." Reno shook him off, shoved the dragon fang into his mouth, sucked it defiantly for a moment, and then stuck out his tongue to show Rude a grey ball of sludge.

"Grow up, man," said Rude.

"I feel sad," said Aviva.

"See what you've done to our little one?" Reno's sneer seemed to encompass them both. "You big bully."

Rude took the baggy into custody, scooping it from the table and putting it into his own pocket.

"I got more," said Reno.

"There are quicker ways," Rude told him.

"Stop talking out of your arse."

"Cissnei's gone. Tseng sent her out of the building."

Hearing these words, Aviva felt faint with relief.

"Do I look like I give a shit?" said Reno. "She can do what the fuck she likes. Fuck Tseng. I told him. Did you see him? Was he there?"

Rude looked like he didn't want to answer. "No."

"Where was he?"

"Out."

"Where?"

"With Ciss."

"And where else?"

"Reno -"

"And where else?"

Back, forth, back, forth: they were making her head spin.

"Where is he right now, Rude?"

Rude seemed to deflate; Aviva couldn't think of any other way to put it. He said, "Down with Rufus."

Reno's face twisted. He looked like her stomach felt. "Yeah," he said, "I just bet he is."

"Guys," Aviva cried, "What are you talking about?"

"You didn't tell her?" said Rude.

"Tell me what? Rude, what?"

"How long have you known?" asked Reno.

"If she doesn't know – "

"What? What don't I know?"

"We should stop talking about this now -"

"No!" Reno slammed his fist on the table. "I know you see everything with those fucking x-ray specs, you two-faced bastard. You lied to me. You lied to me."

Silence fell on the tables around them. The Honeybees faltered in their dance. Everyone was looking at the Turks.

"Not now," Rude entreated softly.

"I'm going to kill him," said Reno.

"Reno – "

"I told him I would. Fucking little twisty piece of shit."

"Reno – "

"I warned him."

"Reno," growled Rude, rolling his eyes sideways.

Reno looked round. Their Honeybee was hovering nervously behind him, carrying a magnum of chilled champagne and three fluted glasses on a silver tray.

"What the hell?" said Reno.

"Excuse me, sir," she said, "But that military gentleman over there wanted you to have this, with his compliments."

All three of them turned to look where her finger was pointing, at a well-built, ruddy-faced man in his mid-thirties sitting at a table on the other side of the stage. His blond hair had been clipped very short, and he wore the uniform of a Shinra army colonel. The other men at his table were officers of similar rank. He smiled at the Turks, revealing excellent teeth, then got to his feet and raised his glass to them. His fellow officers followed suit.

"Viljoen," said Rude. He made it sound like a curse word.

"Fuck him. Rubbing our noses in it."

Rude said to the Honeybee, "Leave it."

"I'll kick his perfect fuckin' teeth in," said Reno.

The Honeybee set the tray on their table and scarpered.

Colonel Hugo Viljoen of the Garuda Regiment detached himself from his party and came weaving through the tables towards them, glass in hand.

"Be cool," Rude warned Reno.

"Gentlemen of the Department of Administrative Research," Viljoen began with a smile, "Oh – and, ah, lady. I see you've received the champagne. I hope it's to your liking. Some people find the Wasserfallen a bit too dry for their tastes."

"Fuck off, you wanker," said Reno.

The Colonel's smile widened. "I'm sorry you're taking that attitude. This is a sincere token of our respect for all your hard work. A dangerous criminal was finally brought to justice today. Don't you want to celebrate with us?"

"You – you –" Reno struggled to find the right word - "Fucking tosspot. You screwed us over -"

"All's fair in love and war," said the Colonel. "What did you expect? Don't be a sore loser, Reno. People are watching."

Slowly, gracelessly, Reno rose to his feet, holding on to the table for balance. "I'm warning you, fuckface -"

"Yes? What?" Viljoen sneered. "What are you going to do to me, Turk? Throw up on my shoes? You're so drunk you can't even stand up straight. Been drowning your sorrows?"

Reno lurched forward, swinging wildly with his left fist. Aviva jumped up to stop him. She grabbed his arm, pulling him even further off-balance. Colonel Viljoen stepped aside, easily avoiding the blow, and the two Turks crashed to the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs.

"God, you're pathetic," said Viljoen, looking down at them. "You assholes think your suit and tie make you untouchable. But you know what? Those freaks in SOLDIER thought they were untouchable, too. We showed them. As for you… Well, the fact is we just don't like you. I lost two men down in Junon thanks to that jumped-up slanty-eyed flea you take orders from. The reputation of my entire regiment was dragged through the mud. You saw today what we do to men who get on the wrong side of us, so if I were you, losers, I'd start running, because you're next. Oh, and one more thing. My adjutant doesn't take kindly to having his sister threatened at gunpoint. He's pretty upset about it. Which means I'm pretty upset about it. In fact, I'm so upset that when I find out which of your tail-wagging little bitches was responsible I'm – hey," he broke off, staring hard at Aviva. His eyes narrowed. "You're the – "

Rude picked up the magnum of champagne and hit Colonel Viljoen over the head. Miraculously, the bottle did not break, but Viljoen's knees crumpled under him and he went down like a wet sandbag. A woman at the next table started shrieking. People around them began to rise from their seats. The Honeybees were already scattering for cover. Rude stretched down a hand to help Aviva stand.

Reno staggered to his feet, mag-rod switched on and buzzing for battle. Rude shook his head. "Don't make this worse," he said. "Let's go."

"Look behind you," said Reno.

Rude and Aviva swiveled round. Two of Viljoen's fellow officers had climbed up onto the stage and were coming at them. One was brandishing a chair; the other was wielding a broken bottle. Aviva grabbed a knife from the table. "No, Veev!" said Rude. "You can't kill them – "

Hot light flashed sizzling through the air. Aviva's hair stood on end. The bolt from Reno's EMR hit the two men and for a split second held them suspended in mid-leap, before flinging them backwards across the stage.

A roar of fury erupted from the officers' table as the five who'd remained sitting surged to their feet and came charging towards the Turks, shoving aside everything in their way: tables, pastry trolleys, patrons, Honeybees. One of the girls took a sharp elbow to the chest; she fell backwards, hit her head against the side of a table, and cried out in pain as she began to bleed. Seeing this, a bouncer who had come in to try to stop the fracas jumped up onto the nearest table and ran, leaping from table to table as if they were stepping stones, until he caught up with the officer responsible. Grabbing him by both lapels, the bouncer heaved him into the air and head-butted him, hard. Gouts of blood burst from the officer's nose. The bouncer dropped him to the floor, where he remained, dazed and moaning.

"Sweet," grinned Reno approvingly.

The next moment the bouncer's feet were knocked out from under him by the butt of a soldier's rifle. Reno' hand went for his pistol.

"Are you crazy?" Rude shouted. "No guns!"

It seemed to Aviva that everything was happening in slow motion. A Honeybee had picked up a chair and was swiping it at the head of the soldier who'd floored the bouncer. Two of Colonel Viljoen's friends flung themselves on Reno; the other two tackled Rude. Rude landed an uppercut on the chin of the first, driving him backwards, and rammed his elbow into the diaphragm of the second, who doubled over, retching. Reno wasn't doing quite so well. His drugged, drunken reflexes had slowed him down to the point where he was moving almost like a normal man. One of the officers kicked the EMR from his hand and sent it skittering out of reach. The other drilled a fist deep into his gut. Reno sank to his knees and curled up, wheezing loudly.

The fight had spread like panic through the room: wherever Aviva looked, people were throwing punches, trampling each other under foot, and, in the case of the Honeybees, scratching faces and pulling hair. Many of them seemed to be fighting to get out the doors; still others were fighting to get in. Nobody was paying any attention to Aviva. Did they think she was too small to be a threat? Hah - she'd show them. Down at her feet, Viljoen stirred, groaning. Aviva took the magnum of champagne from the table and hit him again.

"Reno!" cried a woman's voice. Aviva looked round and saw that one of the Honeybees had rescued his EMR. "Here!" she shouted, putting up her hand. The Honeybee lobbed it over. Aviva caught it just as someone's fist grabbed a handful of her jacket and lifted her feet off the floor. She snarled and kicked backwards, but couldn't make contact with solid flesh.

"Veev," gasped Reno. He'd managed to slither under one of the overturned tables. The two Garuda officers had taken hold of his ankles and were trying to drag him out. He kicked and cursed, but couldn't break free. Aviva threw him the EMR, aware that it would be of no use as long as the targets were touching him. So she kicked back again, and this time got a purchase on what felt like her captor's thigh. Coiling all her strength into her legs, she pushed off and twisted out of his grip. The moment she landed she kneed him in the balls so hard he doubled up, keening in pain. "Yeah!" she yelled, "Take that!" and swung round to help Reno. The officer closest to her was kneeling on the ground with his arse pointing straight in her direction, so she kicked him in the balls too, with equally satisfying results.

The other officer immediately released his hold on Reno's ankle and drew his gun.

Aviva could have sworn that every bone in the man's body lit up when Reno's bolt of electricity hit him.

He came crawling out from under the table, got to his feet, grabbed her face, and planted a big smacking kiss on her forehead. "Fuck, Veev," he laughed, "I fuckin' love you."

If only she could have died then.

"Stop playing around," said Rude, who had just cracked his two assailants' heads together and dropped them onto the floor. "Look."

More soldiers had forced their way in through the doors the bouncers were struggling to shut, and with their fists and the butts of their rifles they began to carve a path through the battlefield that the Honeybee's Rosebud Revuebar had become. One of them spotted the Turks, and pointed. All the soldiers turned in their direction. A howl of bloodlust went up.

"We have to leave," said Rude. "Now."

"You're such a fucking spoilsport," said Reno.

About fifteen metres away from them a length of gold brocade had been torn lose from its curtain rail, revealing a small door set in the wall. Rude took hold of Reno by the upper arms and frogmarched him over to the door, Aviva scrambling behind them. Rude had to take one hand off Reno in order to test the door handle. It opened, but in the same moment Reno, who had never stopped struggling, broke free and began to run back towards the fray. He had taken maybe a dozen steps when something small and dark came flying through the air. It landed between his feet, and exploded with a small 'pop' and a burst of purple smoke. Rude wasn't affected; he was standing just far enough away. Aviva reeled, but Rude caught her elbow and gave her a good sobering slap across the back of the head before she could hurt herself. Reno inhaled the full force of the confuse grenade. He spun around, his red ponytail streaming like a ribbon, and aimed his EMR at Rude.

"Don't!" Aviva screamed.

She could see that a part of him knew what was happening. He was trying to resist. His arm shook with the effort.

The soldiers were almost on them.

Suddenly her skin began to tingle. Somebody had cast materia on her.

God, she hated the thought of going down without a fight -

And then everybody around her sank to the floor and closed their eyes, and there was silence.

Rude stooped to gather up the unconscious Reno. "Get his rod," he told her. "Hurry. This Sleep won't hold. Too many of them."

Out in the foyer people were battering with their fists on the barred doors. Aviva clutched Reno's EMR tightly to her chest. "This way," said Rude. He ushered her through the little doorway, then closed and bolted it behind them. Aviva fumbled in her pocket for a flashlight. They were in a narrow corridor, with what looked like cupboards on either side, and at the end, another door. This one was locked. Rude kicked a hole in it. They climbed through, and found themselves outside.

Fifty metres overhead, the lights on the underbelly of the plate twinkled like stars. "Can we go home now?" she asked him.

"No," he said.

"Oh." Though she didn't see why not. "Okay. Rude?"

"Sssh."

"How come I'm awake?"

"Barrier. Can't carry both of you."

Angry voices were coming closer. They would soon be found if they stayed here. "Follow me," he said. "Stay low."

Avoiding the busy streets and the bright lights, they slunk their way around the edge of Wall Market, through the darkest of alleys, scattering rats and stepping over the occasional drunkard, until, finally, they emerged into the shadows at the back of the In'N'Out Travellers' Motel. Reno groaned and tried to lift his head; Rude cast Sleep on him again, then laid him down on the ground and left Aviva to stand guard while he went to find them a room. Her legs were beginning to feel very tired. She needed to sit down. Just for a minute. Her heavy head longed to rest its weight on something. She closed her eyes….

"Wake up," said Rude.

Lifting Reno into his arms, he led her round to the side of the hotel and showed her a window he had jimmied open. "You first," he whispered, crouching down to let her climb in over his shoulders. Getting Reno through the window posed more of a challenge, but with Aviva tugging and Rude pushing they eventually wrestled him inside. Rude brought up the rear, using his strong arms to lever himself up and over.

Aviva wanted to turn on the light, but Rude stopped her, pointing at the gap under the door as a reminder that if the light went on it could be seen from the hallway. A fluorescent security lamp on the building next door did something to relieve the darkness of the room; Aviva could see that it contained twin beds separated by a nightstand, and that there was an old braided rug on the floor. The shadowy bulk of a large wardrobe loomed in the far corner.

"Isn't this supposed to be a love hotel?" she asked Rude. The room didn't look very romantic.

Rude did not answer. Crouching down, he gathered Reno up off the floor, all lolling head and floppy limbs, and deposited him on the bed that was pushed against the wall.

Aviva said, "What if they rent this room to somebody else while we're in it? What if they come in and find us here?"

"I'll sort it," said Rude, crossing to the door. "Get his shoes off." He paused, listening for sounds of movement in the corridor. Hearing none, he opened the door, slipped through, and shut it behind him. Aviva presumed his intention was to pay the desk clerk up front, both for the room and to lie if anyone from PSM came looking for them. The clerk probably wouldn't need much persuading. Heidegger's army had never been popular in Wall Market, and since the brutal repression of the electricity riots earlier in the year, their credit had sunk to an all-time low. It would be hard to find anyone on Don Corneo's turf who'd willingly help a pack of drunken soldiers to hunt down a trio of Turks.

Aviva didn't know whether it was the lingering effects of the alcohol combined with the confuse grenade, or just sheer tiredness, but she was having tremendous difficulty untying the knots in Reno's bootlaces. Rude came back while she was still working at it. Putting both hands on her shoulders, he gently moved her aside and took over. First one shoe came off, then the other. Rude turned over each in turn and shook it vigorously. The second time he did this, a flick knife fell out. Rude put the knife in his pocket. Under Reno's right sock, a coil of wire was taped to his ankle. Rude removed this too. He worked Reno's arms loose from their sleeves, eased the jacket out from under him, emptied Reno's pockets into his own, and laid the folded jacket at the end of the bed. The gun holster and materia bracer came off next, then the shirt. Reno mumbled once, but he did not wake: Sleep still held him fast in its spell.

When Rude started on Reno's trousers, Aviva, guiltily ashamed to find herself torn between embarrassment and intense curiosity, blushed and turned her face away. Reno never wore underwear – at least, that was what he claimed. Was it really necessary for him to be stripped naked?

"Where's the mag-rod?" asked Rude, as he covered his partner with the bedclothes.

Aviva had put it down on the other bed when she was trying to untie Reno's shoelaces. "Hide it," Rude told her.

"Why?" she asked, but he did not answer. Carrying Reno's gun and materia, he went into the bathroom; she supposed he was looking for a place to hide them as well. But from whom? From Reno? There was nowhere in this bleak little room to hide anything from a Turk's sharp eyes.

Rude came back, still with the gun and materia in his hands. Sitting down on the end of Reno's bed, he picked up Reno's jacket and spread it over his lap. Then he rolled everything up inside it – gun, materia, EMR, clothes – and tied the sleeves in a knot to hold the bundle together. Only Reno's shoes were spared.

Aviva said, "What are you doing?"

"Keeping him out of trouble." Rude reached inside his suit, popped the Sleep materia loose and handed it to her. "If he starts getting difficult, knock him out."

"Me? What about you?"

"I'm going to see Corneo."

"What, now? You're leaving?"

"Gotta get this mess straightened out."

"But – what about Reno?"

"You look after him."

"But – but – the chopper – "

"I'll take care of it."

"I could take him back – "

Rude looked at her as if she was being stupid. Even in the half-light, with his sunglasses covering his eyes, she could feel that look of his. "Veev, you're too pissed to fly."

"I don't understand why we can't all go back."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because – " Rude hesitated. "He can't see Tseng like this."

Oh, god. Tseng. Aviva sank down despairingly on the other bed. Tseng was going to kill them. They were so, so dead. "Rude, what are we going to do?"

"I'll sort it out. All you need to do is keep him here till I get back."

"When will you be back?"

"When I'm done." He stood up, and slung the bundle containing Reno's things across his shoulder. "I'll go the back way. Just in case."

"You won't be long, right?"

"I'll do my best," he rumbled, one leg already out the window. "Veev – "

"Yes?"

"He'll be okay with you. Just don't do anything stupid. And keep your heads down."

With that parting speech, he was gone, leaving her alone in a room in a Wall Market love hotel with a naked, unconscious Reno.

This, thought Aviva, is the strangest day of my life.

He was dead to the world, lying on his back with his mouth slack and his eyelids half-open, showing the whites of his eyes. Rude had tucked him in like a little child, pulling the blankets up to his armpits, but had somehow forgotten to take his goggles off. She supposed they were so much a part of his face that it was easy to forget they did come off; but surely he didn't sleep in them normally. How uncomfortable would that be?

Sliding off her own bed, she knelt beside him. Very slowly and carefully she eased the goggles from his head, and laid them on the bedside table.

"Hey," she whispered. "Reno?"

No response.

His face had completely relaxed. No trace was left of the anger and bitterness that had made him seem so much older than his years tonight. Rude had cast him into a sleep so deep that nothing, neither sensation nor memory, nor even dreams, could disturb it. If Aviva wanted to, she could sit here and gaze at him all night long. He would never know.

This thought gave her a strange feeling. She had never been able to look her fill before; she'd always been afraid that someone might catch her staring, or that he might suddenly turn around and see her feelings for him written on her face. For years and years she had longed to find out what the tattoos on his cheekbones felt like to touch, but she had never been brave enough to ask for permission to do so. She wasn't someone like Hunter, or Cissnei, who just laughed and did whatever she liked, touching whoever she wanted to touch without anybody ever objecting.

"Reno?" she said a little louder. "Can you hear me?"

He did not stir. Delicately, daringly, she lifted her hand to his face, and traced one finger along the line of his cheekbone. The moment she touched his skin, her fingertip began to tingle with a kind of prickly shock that might, she thought, have been due to the static electricity in his body, or might equally well be the product of her own guilty imagination.

She turned his attention to his hair. It was a disgrace, unkempt and gritty with badlands dirt. She ran her hand up the side of his face to his hairline and began to comb the red tangles with her fingers, smoothing them backwards from his forehead. The last time she'd done this, he hadn't even begun to grow his ponytail, and she'd been high on Curaga. Now his ponytail reached to his waist, and his hair felt coarser than she remembered. Several loose strands had fallen across his face, catching on his eyelashes. She brushed them away.

"I love you," she said.

Her words fell into a well of silence.

Out in the streets a motorbike revved as it drove by, and a dog started barking. Down the hallway a door opened and shut. The plumbing in the wall rattled as someone upstairs flushed a toilet. Far away in the centre of Wall Market, music throbbed.

As she leaned closer, gazing intently into Reno's sleeping face, Aviva noticed that the skin around his left eye was beginning to look puffy. Someone must have landed a hard punch on him during the fight. By tomorrow he'd have a real shiner.

Still, at least he was still alive. Things could easily have been so much worse, what with the cocktail of drink and drugs he'd been consuming and the army out for their blood. If Rude hadn't intervened with the champagne bottle, Colonel Viljoen might have killed both of them as they lay tangled drunkenly together on the floor. God, how useless she'd been! Rude had sent her after Reno in the first place so she could stop him from self-destructing, and what had she done instead? Gotten herself so tanked she could hardly put two words together. It was only thanks to Rude's quick thinking that she and Reno still had a tomorrow – though, judging by the single-mindedness with which Reno had gone spiraling downwards tonight, she didn't know how happy he was going to be when he woke up in the morning and realised he was still alive.

It was all Mink's fault, Aviva decided. She'd set him off. He'd been fine until she'd decided to have a go at him, like he was personally to blame for every single thing that was wrong with Shinra. Like he wasn't dealing with problems of his own. Who did Mink think she was, anyway, acting all high and mighty and judging them like she was better than they were? It was as if all of a sudden she'd stopped being one of them – as if she'd looked at them, and looked at herself, and decided they had nothing in common and that all the years they'd worked and fought together meant nothing to her. Do you call yourself a man, Reno? Every time Aviva ran those words through her mind, she felt more deeply outraged. Turks just did not say such things to each other – especially when in the very next breath Mink had gone on to do a complete one-eighty, lashing out at him for daring to suggest that maybe Zack Fair hadn't been entirely human, when it was obvious that all of them – even Mink – had been thinking the same thing.

Aviva laid her head on Reno's shoulder, and closed her eyes. It would be nice, she thought, to fall asleep like this. "Stupid Mink," she murmured. "If you're not a man, I don't know who is. Don't listen to her. Of course you're a man."

And what's more, he's a naked man under those sheets.

Where the hell had that thought come from? Startled from her dreaminess, Aviva sat bolt upright and glanced around the room, half-expecting to see some grinning demon lurking in the shadows.

Why not see for yourself? it added insidiously .

What? No!

No, she couldn't possibly do that.

Could she?

Sure you can. Look what you've done already: touching his face, stroking his hair.

But those were public places -

Aw, c'mon, where's the harm?

But she couldn't just – steal a look.

Hey, it's nothing you haven't seen before.

That was true. She had twice accidentally caught passing glimpses of him when they were out on missions, living in close quarters - and once, when she was down in the gym, he'd come out of the showers unexpectedly, and his towel had slipped. She'd made a point of quickly looking in the other direction and pretending she hadn't noticed, but that was more to spare herself the humiliation of having him comment on her red face than because she thought he would be embarrassed.

This was different. He was fast asleep. He'd never know -

Exactly. You can look for as long as you like.

Excitement fluttered in Aviva's stomach, a mingling of curiosity and trepidation. It was years since she'd seen one this close up. She'd always done her best to keep her eyes shut.

But you're a woman now. Strong, remember? Don't you want to take back what was stolen from you? You have to start somewhere.

No. It wouldn't be right -

C'mon. Looking won't hurt you. This man would never hurt you.

He wouldn't like it -

Man, he won't care! Since when has Reno been bothered about keeping his privates private? How many women do you reckon he's shown it to? He's probably lost count! One more won't make much difference. Aw, c'mon, Veev

It was like he was inside her head, wheedling, tempting. The curiosity was burning her up.

C'mon Veev, you know you want to. C'mon, don't be a wimp.

Well…. Maybe just a quick peek, then.

Cautiously – very cautiously, as if afraid it might dart out and bite her – she took hold of the bedclothes and turned them back, exposing his long pale body to the room's half-light.

To tell the truth, it wasn't quite as big as she remembered. But then, those memories had been the stuff of a child's waking nightmares. This one wasn't like that at all. Curled up in its nest of red hair, it resembled nothing so much as a soft, sleeping animal. Not in the least bit fearsome. Quite the opposite, in fact. The thing was so naked, so defenceless, so much more vulnerable than she remembered, there was something almost – endearing, about it. Who would have guessed?

Behind her the curtains fluttered, as a rush of cool air blew through the open window. The breeze passed over Reno, ruffling his hair and raising goosebumps on his skin. He didn't move a muscle, but the little animal drowsing against his thigh twitched and stirred, and lifted its blunt head to look straight at Aviva with its one blind eye.

Appalled, she dropped and sheets and scuttled backwards. She couldn't believe she'd just done what she'd just done. What had possessed her? Trembling, hardly daring to breathe, she stared at him, certain that any moment now he would wake up and accuse her.

The little bedside clock ticked off the seconds. Her heartbeat sounded painfully loud. Suddenly, Reno's whole body twitched, and Aviva's heart jumped in her chest. He yawned like a cat, showing all his teeth, muttered something, rolled onto his side, and sank right back down into a deep sleep.

Another five minutes passed before Aviva felt safe enough to risk getting to her feet. She went into the bathroom, locked the door, stripped, and got into the shower, feeling all the time that if only she weren't a Turk she could have cried from the sheer shame of it. What made it worse was her certainty that he would laugh at her if he knew: laugh at her fright, and even more at her curiosity. God, Veev, you're so naïve. He was probably right, but she couldn't stop imagining how she would feel if she found out he had been sneaking peeks at her naked body while she was unconscious. But of course he would never do such a thing, because he wasn't interested – No! that wasn't the reason! Well, maybe it would be part of the reason – but that wasn't the point. They were partners. They were supposed to be able to trust each other, even when they couldn't see what the other was doing. And now she felt like she'd stolen something from him that could never be given back.

A rough white towel was hanging on the curtain rail. She used it to dry herself, scrubbing her body fiercely all over. Then she got dressed in her bra and pants and her grubby, sweaty shirt; so strong was her need to cover herself up that she even debated putting her suit back on, heavily stained though it was with badlands mud, before deciding that she simply could not get between clean sheets wearing a pair of dirty trousers. On the way to her own bed she forced herself to go close enough to Reno's to check on his breathing. She was wondering whether she ought to cast Sleep on him again – since Rude had told her to – but to her relief the spell seemed to be holding fast. The thought of using attack materia on Reno was unbearable. She'd already done enough to him for one night.

Aviva crawled into her bed, turned her back towards Reno, and pulled the covers over her head. She was sure she wouldn't ever be able to fall asleep... right up until the moment when she did.