Disclaimer: Anything that is not mine, is not mine. The games, the characters, they are not mine. The concept of the story is mine, but the elements added that were not originally mine, are definitely not mine. I hope that's enough disclaimer!

Author's Note: I would very much like to thank everyone who read my story! Special thanks to derekctomlinson, Angel-Wings Naya, and Aura!

This chapter does not have much fluff but, well, let's just say it's a pivotal point in the story that will lead to something more (wink wink). No pain in the feels on this one (I think), but it's time we give the Turks their shining moment, yah? Either way, I hope you enjoy this one!

He wanted this, Rufus repeated to himself over the course of their "briefing" that dragged out from the scheduled two hours to three more. He already had the details of the board room's interior committed to his memory— from the faintest chips of the marble white pillars which had aged through time to the white swirls of the emerald walls. He sighed and slid his eyes to Tuesti who struggled to appear attentive at Palmer's nasalized drawlings with narrowed eyes and lips covered under his linked fingers. The executive even flinched at one point, and Rufus could swear he had been fighting the waves between sleep and alertness. Scarlet was examining her red fingernails, heedless of her blunt complaints for Palmer's erratic speech and mixing in the rolling of her eyes here and there. Heidegger was the most impatient, however, with his loud and repetitive sighing. Hojo, well, he was as good as a dead body with his signature unsettling grin plastered perpetually on his face.

He had no idea why he allowed Palmer to take the floor when the company's Space Program was basically asking for its own retirement. But he knew, at some point eventually, that they would need it as proven by history itself when the department shone more brightly than the others once upon a time. Besides, the man might throw a fit and cry self-pity over his recent accident, which also happened by his own stupidity.

A memory by which his mind strayed again for the upteenth time that afternoon to the thoughts of Tifa. He fought a stupid grin from emerging again as he remembered his grand victory of dazzling her with Gold Saucer's dancing lights. She seemed fazed by it just as he had with her smile that tossed aside all the night's earlier displeasures. He dissected the event that followed and elucidated how or why had it been unremarkable. He found himself frowning at the thought, which Palmer caught and mistook as a display of his earnestness, inspiring a more hearted argument as to why they must invest on another airship. Rufus blinked lazily in reply and brought himself back at the Gold Saucer.

The conclusion of the dancing lights show had broken the two of them from a certain trance that night.

"I better go back," she told him, painfully apprehensive. Yet she allowed him to walk with her all the way to the inn. He tried to jog his memory for any glances or looks from her that the time they spent meant… well, simply meant something to her. They walked with her eyes constantly forward, sparing him a goodnight and quietly bidded him a "bye" instead before entering the inn.

He tried to analyze if there were splits and rifts in that moment that would open for more things then quickly realized, again, that if there was any, he would surely never forget it. Although, he debated, that the solemn look on Tifa's face for the rest of the night meant that she had stopped crying. And that was enough.

"Mr. President?"

Rufus jolted from his daze and realized that all five executives were looking at him anticipatingly. He straightened up and dropped his confounded "just-caught-not-listening" look then replaced it with his nonchalant one. He was not about to admit that he was somewhere else, somewhere better than wasting his time here.

"Have you finished?" he directed at Palmer standing at the front, his tone imperious.

"W-well," Palmer stuttered. "I-I was about to—"

"My turn. I have read all the reports before I succeeded my late father, if you can't tell yet," Rufus said, deciding to wrap this up once and for all. "One billion gil was already set aside for the Space Program three years ago with your signed approval. But some of the numbers did not quite settle with me." He grinned when Palmer's eager face disappeared. "I did my own math, and I am not sure how seven million gil suddenly disappeared magically in three month's time. Of course, that was only a minute chunk of the total budget, but spending on another airship such as the Highwind would cost less had it been built by the right man."

Palmer blinked. "But I am the ri—"

"No, you're not," Rufus cut him. "I suggest that you perform another magic trick and make that missing gil reappear. Or else, I will be forced to reinstate your position to someone else. And believe me, I already have someone far better in mind."

Scarlet's eyebrows rose as all four executives shifted their eyes at Palmer. Now red-faced, he sank back to his chair.

Rufus shifted on his seat and crossed his legs. "Tuesti?"

"While the company is still recovering from the bombings by AVALANCHE, I would like to propose a slow rehabilitation," Tuesti began. "We can work small by focusing on one Sector at a time, starting with Sector Seven. Then we can work our way—"

"OOOOOF, I have just spent an entire hour with Palmer's drabbles and I can't spend another hour with yours," Scarlet interrupted. "We dropped the plate on Sector Seven for a reason. And now you're suggesting that we take it all back. And for what?"

Tuesti slightly bounced on his seat. "But this is—"

"Get to the point."

"Scarlet," Rufus cautioned. He ignored her pouting and temperamental way of throwing herself back on her seat, sliding his eyes back at Tuesti. "Sector Seven, was it? Continue."

"Thank you, Sir," Tuesti said curtly. "We can work our way to providing the residents livelihood and help them get back on their feet. I believe that it will also project a good image for Shinra as a responsible company— from ruinous to reputable. If you approve this, it can also set a milestone for a new project we are initiating in our department. It's called the—"

Tseng suddenly entered the room and doled out an urgent look. Rufus' posture perked up on his chair.

"We shall continue this. You will have to excuse me." Rufus rose and hurtled towards Tseng. As he closed in to the door, he paused and turned around. "Tuesti, send me your reports and proposal before evening."

Tuesti nodded. "Yes. Of course, Mr. President."

Rufus returned to Tseng and nodded at him before they went through the door. Tseng led him to a smaller conference room where Reno, Elena, and Rude were waiting. Tseng shut the door behind them.

"The Gongaga man spilled what we were looking for," Tseng said. "We found them."

Reno would very soon realize that cheap metal produced raucous thunderous claps when blunt force was applied to it. That was fun, he thought after kicking a metal door, then nonchalantly asked Rude if the vibration broke his sunglasses this time (it didn't). So he kicked it again and again until it swung wide to the dark and oppugnant welcome of a dark narrow hallway and echoes of scrambling footsteps from within the walls. He banged his nightstick repeatedly against the concrete wall as he casually plodded inside with Rude walking at his pace beside him.

"We're here, yo! Better hide your asses!" he yelled at the hidden hive of resistance fighters that they called themselves. Constant sounds of gunshots and screams coming from the walls rebounded inside the place. So deafening were they that Reno held up a hand at his partner and silently counted with his fingers from three, two, one…

Men and women volleyed out of the door from the other end of the hallway, desperately jostling out and mindlessly stepping on the weaker ones who were pushed to the ground. Reno shook his head at the barbaric inconsideration and swung his nightstick at the first man then triggered its electro-mode. Then for a split second, the lethal electricity from the weapon blighted six more unfortunate souls, the group looking like a line of wriggling worms being burned all the way inside. He snorted at how ridiculously easy this mission was and zapped onto his next victim.

Rude jabbed, kicked, dodged, and slammed skulls onto the walls so quickly before anyone had the chance to grab their rifles and pistols, adding up to the pile of bodies in their wake as both of them moved closer and closer to the door where the flashes of gunshots grew bigger and louder. He left no one alive enough to move to sneak past him.

Elena appeared beyond the door, armed with a machine gun that seemed oversized for her proportion, shelling furiously at the storming escapees inside the room. One bullet ricocheted a millimeter too close to her ear, so she rolled over behind a nearby crate. With the swift movement of her hands, she reloaded her ammunition and began shooting again at her attackers, this time with a little help.

Tseng lifted the pistols he wielded with both hands and fired at Elena's attackers from behind, expending one bullet straight into each head, almost mirroring the spot of his own tilak. The slight sound of a footstep behind him was immediately met with a backward swing of his gun and a single shot.

By the time Reno and Rude reached the room, blood was splattered everywhere, covering almost every surface and wall. Reno made a wry face at the gore, blood, and smell as all of them glanced around for any survivor. It was not because it was new to him— he could name other missions which were worse than this, like the one they did with Sector Seven. The thought he could never really conquer was that Elena and Tseng's tandem had always been messier than his and Rude's. Then again, they had to do what they had to do.

Take no prisoners, their boss had told them.

"We're clocking out early today, right?" Reno asked.

Tseng surveyed his bloodstained cuff and sleeve. "The President might consider it."

"He needs a break of his own. Live a little and shit."

Rude cleared his throat. "Gold Saucer," he reminded.

"Eh? That? You call that a break? He was only gone for like two hours and then we were all back to work!"

"That was all he could afford," Elena said.

Tseng's sight glided around the room to scan it one last time then nodded at the others. "Search every corner, every spot, make sure that we are not missing anything or anyone. It would be unfortunate if a problem has snuck out right under our noses."

And unfortunate were they.

A boy, scrawny by his build and weight which made him nearly undetectable when he needed to be, was breathing heavily behind one of the taller crates and out of the Turks' sight, a yellow long envelope clutched tightly against his chest.

"Take this to the other faction. And run, as fast as you can," one of the older female members of AVALANCHE ordered specifically to him right before she ran for battle and to her immediate death. But they were woefully surrounded and bullets were flying from every turn that escape was not an option. The Turks were out for blood and thirsty for more.

But the envelope. Many had paid with their lives for it. He was told whoever had it held more power against the President himself. And only he, it would seem, could ensure that it would not fall in the Turks' hands. So he had to try and survive his escape.

He dashed to another crate that would bring him closer to the door with light footsteps against the sturdy cemented floor. He hunched down just as Rude turned to his direction before heading to a tall cabinet at the other corner of the room. He slithered to a shorter crate and folded himself to his knees to conform to the size and frame of his spot.

He froze when Tseng said "Check the hallway."

Reno glanced through the door. "Nah. Nothing there. We already checked."

But the boy knew he could not take any more chances. The moment Reno turned back around and walked away from the door, the boy darted out and he ran. He held his breath and his lungs protested as he forced his legs to propel him out of the place. He gasped for air once outside and sprinted away from the door as his tunneled vision grew clearer while he wheezed for air. Then he kept running.

He had reached the next town when he decided that he had run far enough. He sat on a bench by the heaps of trash and caught for his breath again. He glanced at the envelope and leaned forward, propping himself against his elbows on his knees.

"And what's this? A runaway?"

The boy lifted his sight to the sultry voice of a woman and gasped when he was met by Scarlet's face leering down at him. She flicked her eyes to the envelope and smiled.

"I am assuming that the Turks have arrived for you," she said.

The boy did not know what to say and could only gape at her, his mind clearing empty.

"Oh, why must they trust a stupid one like you. Though I must say, this is a lucky day for me. I am glad they chose you to deliver that envelope."

The boy frowned.

"Ah, finally, a reaction. You do hear me, right? So," She extended a hand. "Let's see how much you value your life. I am capable of alarming the very Turks you ran away from about your location right here. Surely they will do the same to you what they had done with the others. Oh, but I can only assume!" She chuckled loudly and shrilly. "They will come for you and that envelope, I assure you. But if you give me that envelope now, ah, well, I will forget this encounter and forget who you are."

The boy hesitated, of course, as he shifted his eyes between the envelope and Scarlet. His loyalty to AVALANCHE seemed to promise only death, while Scarlet stood before him promising safety and a longer life, and he could live anew. He still had many things on his bucket list and bigger dreams for himself. Maybe his time in AVALANCHE had justified his wish for a second life. And the envelope would do him nothing good.

So he handed it to her.

Tifa's stare was fixated at the two newly-issued coins the armor merchant handed to her as their change for the armors they purchased. As they laid in her palm, she brushed a finger on the surface where the words "A NEW ERA" were embedded. She narrowed her eyes and blinked as if it would change anything at that moment for her that would be telling of something contradictory to Rufus' canonical reign. Her heart hovered between pride and apprehension at the thought of another Shinra ruling over practically the whole Planet, a rule he inherited from his Father and his fathers before him. But the times had changed and Rufus lived in an era different from his father's. He was different.

Rufus was different.

"Tifa?"

She snapped out of her dormancy at Cloud's call for her name. He was peering at her, eyebrows furrowing then loosening when she returned to him.

"Huh? Yes?"

"You were out of it again," Cloud said.

"Oh." Tifa forced a smile. "Right."

"You okay?"

Tifa nodded. It was not the first time her mind had drifted elsewhere— from Sector Seven, to Junon, to Costa Del Sol, and then at the Gold Saucer. And it happened so much more often after she came back to the inn from the dancing lights that it was starting to become habitual. Everything, even the little things, reminded her of him and she would wander again, thinking how things would be if he was there with her for the whole journey.

Cloud smiled, that of relief. And instead of the skip her heart used to make whenever he would give her that, she felt her chest settle in a quiet pace. She smiled back wondering, yet again, what remark Rufus would say. Maybe along the lines of "splendid, he smashed his head somewhere which cured his mind and now he's finally giving you your well-deserved regard," or something snide like "careful Tifa, it looks like another beginning of unwarranted tears."

When she let out a repressed chortle which came more like snort, Cloud narrowed his eyes and lips curled somewhere between a grimace and a grin.

Tifa looked away and waved her hand dismissively as she chuckled. "I"m sorry, a memory suddenly came to me."

"A funny one?"

"Yeah. You could say," she said.

Cloud nodded and shifted his eyes to the mint silvers in her hand. "Those the new coins?"

Tifa nodded. "Yeah."

"Rufus sure came prepared."

"Yeah. I guess that's the type of person he is."

"Hmph. Don't know about that. But he's definitely vain."

Tifa tilted her head. "Is he?"

"Isn't it obvious? He marches around in his long white coat no matter where he is, 'sif he's asking for attention. He issued his own coins even before his father was gone. I wouldn't be surprised if he put his own face on those. And not to mention his parade where he asked his footmen to dance."

"Oh. Right," Tifa waived. She had her own thoughts about the parade, but nothing was confirmed with Rufus yet. She was certain, however, that it was not out of his own vanity.

Rufus.

She turned to her other shoulder, away from Cloud, feigning to look at something from the shelves, and tried to materialize him from her memory of that night, the first time things felt true. The dancing lights show was more enchanting than the mysteries of magic and materia, so much that it fled so quickly from the moment she almost doubted it happened at all. She remembered, however, how she tried to avoid his eyes the entire time they walked to the inn. She did not know how to look without faltering when she saw his eyes, so she kept hers forward, praying that he would not mistake it as a gesture of flippancy because it was anything but that.

"Goodnight, Tifa," she recalled him saying.

"Bye," she recalled herself throwing hastily as a reply before rushing to the doors of the inn.

She would wince everytime that memory played in her head. Rufus deserved better than that.

"You're away again," Cloud said.

She jerked her head back at Cloud. "Oh. Sorry."

"Memory again?"

Tifa shook her head. "Just… had a lot of things to think of."

Cloud sighed and tightened his lips, giving her a worried once-over.

Aerith was bouncing on her feet when she appeared beside them. "So! Where to next?"

Cloud shifted uneasily on his feet and crossed his arms against his chest. "Gotta chase after Sephiroth to Northern Crater after he almost pulled that thing on you."

"You meant after he almost killed me?" Aerith shot back bluntly.

Tifa drew a breath through her teeth. "I don't really want to recall it like that."

Aerith beamed. "Hey, it doesn't matter now. I'm still here! And I am not more than ready to kick him right back to his balls!"

Tifa giggled. "Sounds painful."

"How would you know?" Cloud butted in.

Aerith grinned. "Wanna give it a try?"

"Hey!"

Tifa nodded at Cloud. "So, Icicle Inn, right?"

Aerith shot her arms up. "Yay! Snowboarding!"

"We can't waste anymore time. Sephiroth might already be at it."

Aerith sighed with exaggeration. "You gotta relax, you indolent chocobo! Snow is not something you see everywhere! And take it from me when I say you gotta live to the fullest. I almost died, remember? And I wanna snowboard now more than ever!"

"I have never seen the snow, either. It might be an experience," Tifa added.

"You haven't?" Cloud asked. Tifa shook her head.

Aerith suddenly squinted at the window of the shop. "Hey, who's that?"

Cloud and Tifa caught a blurry glimpse of a fleeing man in brown clothing. Cloud sprinted for the door and glanced around the sidewalk for the man then went back inside.

"He got away," he said.

"What did he look like?" Tifa asked.

"He had a bandana," Aerith recounted. "Brown hair. I wouldn't think much of his if he wasn't leering so intensely at us. Well—" she looked at Tifa,"—you, especially."

Cloud's frown deepened while Tifa's eyes widened and her breath hitched.

"Another one of your suitors?" Cloud asked.

"Creepy stalker, maybe!" Aerith countered.

Tifa shook her head thoughtfully. "I'm not… I don't…"

Gods, she hoped not.

Whatever encounter that was became forgotten the moment they felt the harsh cold air of Icicle Inn.

"Huh, I thought this is an actual inn," Yuffie mused as she looked around the snow-covered landscape and leafless pine trees. Flakes of crystalline snow fell so slowly as they took their time dancing in the air before touching the ground.

Tifa pulled her coat more tightly around her as she glanced up the grainy and sunless sky. Her fingers were beginning to numb even under her gloves and her legs were almost frigid.

"You still wanna snowboard?" Cloud directed at Aerith.

"Yes!" Aerith replied. "When everyone's ready!"

"Then 'tis about time we find a real inn first," Barret pointed out. He refused to buy a coat after spending twenty minutes at the shop to find one in his size, and when there was nothing other than a bright emerald green with pink flower embroideries, he conceded. So everyone knew he would kill to find a warm place to stay ASAP.

"Over here," Vincent uttered as he walked past them. Tifa still could not understand if his fluttering red cape was part of his clothes or his own being. Either way, despite the time they had spent with him, Vincent still gave her chills.

"Is this all you folks do?" Cait Sith interjected. "Staying at inns and shopping from merchants?"

"What's so weird about that?" Yuffie challenged. "You're nothing but a talking plushie on a mascot that would easily scare kids stiff, and you still claim you're a fortune-telling machine who uses dice to fight in battles! Whoever made you is a cuckoo head!"

"He's not!" Cait Sith retorted.

"Kids, can we do this at the inn?" Cid demanded.

"Yeah," Tifa agreed. "I don't think Barret can hold much longer in the cold."

Barret scoffed. "Whoever said I can't?"

Tifa sighed.

Then Vincent took out his gun.

Cloud was in his battle stance, his buster sword drawn.

"Sephiroth?" he asked.

Vincent shook his head as his red eyes flickered around the place. "Not sure. But better keep the Ancient out of here."

Cloud looked at her over his shoulder. "Tifa."

"I'm staying!" Tifa called back.

"No. Take Aerith with you."

Tifa saw how Vincent metamorphosed to his red cape and sped away midair. Barret, Red, Cid, and Cait Sith ran after him.

"Please," Cloud appealed.

"I'll come with you, Tifa!" Yuffie called behind, then grasped for Tifa's wrist. "C'mon!"

Tifa, Yuffie, and Aerith ran the other way until they reached a pub which also happened to be the town's actual inn.

It was warmer inside— less cold, rather. There was no fireplace to heat the inn, other than what little lights it had. At least, Tifa thought, the cemented walls were thick enough to insulate the whole place from the cold.

"I'll go talk to the bartender," Tifa said. "Wait here."

She approached the winebar where a gruff-looking man with disheveled black hard and thick beard stood cleaning a beer stein. "Two rooms, please," she told him.

"Thirty gil a night," the man said.

Tifa placed the coins on the bar. "Now, can we go to our rooms?"

The man's look loitered at her before reaching for a small cabinet behind him and tossing her the keys. "You pay for the things you break."

Tifa hummed against her throat and tilted her head to a side in agreement. "We all do, don't we."

The man scoffed at the metaphorical implication and went back to busy himself with the stein. Tifa walked back to the two other girls and handed them the keys.

"Go up there and lock yourself in," she told them.

Aerith's eyes widened. "What about you?"

"I'll stay here and observe. I wanna know what we're up against."

"You're not gonna leave the bar, right?" Yuffie pressed.

"No. I won't."

Aerith and Yuffie looked at each other and nodded.

"You better be still here when they get back."

Tifa nodded, promising to be with them no matter what happened. It would not be long, however, before she realized that she had hoped too soon.

Yuffie and Aerith had been in their room upstairs for fourteen minutes when two men entered the bar. She was sitting by the winebar with a bottle of their local beer and peered at them over her shoulder. They were wearing brown clothes and a bandana, and the reminder of Aerith's description from their earlier encounter at the shop made her gasp and quickly turn away.

"Friends?" the bartender asked.

Tifa gaped at him and slowly shook her head.

The bartender grimaced and moved around to exit his station. "They're coming over here."

She felt them closing in behind her and stopped right as their clothes were almost touching her own coat in such a way that they were deliberately concealing her from the rest of the patrons in the bar. There were two loud clicks of a shotgun being reloaded.

"Get away from the lady," the bartender warned. "I want you out of my bar. Now."

The air was heavy with the staring spectators and her heart suddenly fell in fear for the man. She blinked and thought of Aerith and Yuffie on the upper floor.

She slid from her stool and faced the men who quickly turned back to her. She glared at them through the dark goggles they were wearing and said "No need to start a fight here. You want me, don't you? Why don't we take this outside."

The two men looked at each other then stepped aside to make way for her and gestured for the door. Tifa sauntered for the exit, inattentive of everyone else even when the floor beneath her feet felt like a tightrope.

Once she was outside, she waited for both men and until one of them shut the door. She dropped her coat, turned around and dashed towards them.

She kicked the first one then threw a poison spell at the other, quickly realizing they were immune to it.

"Shit." She sent a punch up the first one's chin as the second revealed his lance and struck her at the back of her waist. She cried, but was quick to block a kick from the first man with her armored arm, then used that as a leverage to lift herself up and land a stomp on his head.

Suddenly, a third man bearing the same garment appeared.

She threw a protect spell on herself and then a potent Firaga spell to hit them all at once. She took advantage of the time bought as the men twitched in pain from the burn and hammered them with swift punches and kicks.

But the latter proved to be a bad decision.

She did not know which man grabbed her by the ankle and then threw her brutally to the ground, her shoulder hitting first. She cried as the bruising pain travelled down to her hand, weakening it to almost numbing. She inhaled sharply and pushed herself to jump back on her feet, but another man, she assumed, kicked the air out of her stomach once… twice… thrice.

Finally, the last man locked her in a tight grip around his arm, crushing her pained shoulders and chest, effectively disarming her. He then very quickly slumped her on his shoulder.

"Drop… me…" Tifa wheezed out with all the breath left in her lungs. She tried to move her legs and arms as the man walked farther and farther away from the inn and eventually realized that they were held so tightly in place that prying herself off was impossible. She was too pained and too weak to grapple away from the man's clutches, and the sight of the inn was becoming smaller and darker.

A bullet scrunched through the man's skull and splattered blood along her forehead and cheeks. Tifa fell on her back to the ground with the man and froze as she heard the thud of two other men against the ground. She writhed out of the man's arm the moment she felt it loosen and lifted her head up at the other attacker.

No. Savior.

Tseng was pointing his gun at the last man. Tifa felt herself shiver at the cold look in his eyes and brows almost meeting in disfavor. When he lowered his gun and trudged towards her, he pulled her up and gently helped her to her feet.

"Are you all right, Ms. Lockhart?" he asked.

Tifa nodded weakly and lifted her half-lidded eyes to him, holding on his arms for support. "Uhm, I'm sorry to ask this," she rasped. "But… Do you happen to have a potion? I left min—" her knees suddenly failed on her and Tseng caught her by her arms.

"I think you need more than just a potion," Tseng said.

Tifa groaned softly and shook her head to the ground. "No. Just a potion is fine. I just… I need to get back to the inn."

"Ms. Lockhart, I don't think the inn is the safest place for you right now."

"But Aerith… Yuffie…"

"I assure you that they will be safe."

"Oh."

And then everything turned black.

When the light came back, she heard her name.

"Tifa?"

Blurry shapes of two people were hovering over her— one with short blond hair the other with long black locks, looking over her the longer she had her eyes opened. When she closed them momentarily, they both straightened up.

"Three, you said?" the blond one asked. Rufus.

"Yes." And Tseng.

"So they still have another faction running. What did Elfe say?"

"The faction is in Corel, Sir. The prison there has provided the faction some capable fighters. They are also among Fuhito's fanatics."

"I want it searched. Make them pay. Make it even. Do you understand?"

Tifa winced. Who? Who was "them?"

"Wha—?"

The two men snapped their attention back to her after she spoke.

"Tifa," she heard Rufus call again and felt him shift.

She blinked to adjust her vision and steady his image, his face becoming clearer as the fog slowly dissipated.

"Who's them? Where—" Tifa groaned when a sharp pain in her chest returned.

"I will fetch the medic," she heard Tseng say. Without leaving her eyes, Rufus nodded.

Tifa blinked a few times again and took her time to scan the white room and realized it was a bedroom. And it wasn't all that white— it was light grey. There was a difference, she told herself. A minimalist dresser stood to her far right, a tall cabinet sat on another corner, and a door was left open which seemed to lead to the room's bathroom. And up on the ceiling hung an abstract white pendant light.

"Where am I?"

"My flat in Icicle Inn," Rufus replied. "Why, I never thought you'd be knocked out by three men."

Tifa turned her head against the pillow to Rufus. She could see now that he was sitting beside her on the edge of the bed.

"Who were they?"

Rufus sneered. "I suppose now that you've met them, it's time I made a postmortem introduction. They were members of AVALANCHE's main headquarters. They demanded that I hand them more money. And if I don't, unfortunate things like this one happen."

"AVALANCHE?"

Rufus smirked. "Can't believe that they can be corrupt? You just wait until you hear more about their dark past."

Tifa furrowed her brows and blinked a few more times. "But, what does that have anything to do with me?"

His lips pinched upward for a short instant and vanished too quickly for her to catch it. He scoffed. "I believe they thought we have something between us."

Tifa stared at him blankly.

Rufus rolled his eyes and exhaled heavily. "Must I spell it out for you? Well, this really is awkward, isn't it?"

"What is it? Just tell me."

He crossed his arms. "They thought we are in a relationship."

If there was something stronger than that to jolt her up on the bed, she doubted that it existed anywhere.

"Tifa!" Rufus scolded when she grimaced and clutched her stomach from the stabbing pain that came immediately after sitting up.

"What in the name of the Planet made them think that?!" she questioned in heavy disbelief.

"We seemed to be spending more time than necessary, I suppose."

"But we—" she narrowed her eyes. "—I never asked for those!"

Rufus' eyes fell for a second before returning to hers.

"All those meetings happened by chance!"

"I know," Rufus replied and forced a nod. "I know they were only by chance. But these people would work only with what they know and what they could see, just about anything they think they could use against me."

Tifa's eyes swayed to her lap then she clenched her fists. It was easy to think that Rufus had everything— needs, desires, dreams that were only awaiting his word to be fulfilled. But his power, his control over everything, had a price it would seem. It was not strange to think that people wanted that same power. Even Sephiroth aimed for it, though his aspiration taxed for something absolute. Looking at Rufus now, listening to his words and the ones he had told her before, had made her unsure if he was even prepared to pay the price. How heavy it must be for him to carry it every waking day.

You have a better advantage as my enemy, she remembered him say.

She paid him a soft gaze. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Then heal and get better," Rufus said before standing up. "I will return you to your friends tomorrow morning. I don't want them to think we brought you here by force."

"They won't. I promise you."

"Then gather your strength. We have a medic who can help you."

"Rufus?"

"Hm?"

"What about you?"

Rufus frowned. "Whatever do you mean?"

"How are you?"

Rufus blinked and slid his hands into his pockets. He narrowed his eyes. "That's an interesting question."

Tifa tilted her head. "Why?"

"That depends on which facet of my condition you are asking."

"You're not going to answer the question, are you."

"Okay, I'll humor you," he snided, then shifted on his feet to face her. "I'm splendid, Tifa. In general, even much better than you are now. But when I walk beyond that door, I'll be back to my own corporate subject and that would bring me more things to think about. With a company to run and five executives who await my decisions, my mind might as well be reduced to ashes. And it did not help that I am further burdened by my—"

He suddenly grimaced and looked away

"By your what?" Tifa pressed. She knew there was something more that was pulling him miles away. And if she could only read his mind, she would know that he simply could not look at her battered state— largely bruised shoulder and abdomen, a cut on her lip, and blisters on her arm and cheeks from the frost of the snow when she hit the ground. When he came to understand how much she had already been through, his presence around her was becoming more and more unacceptable. They were never meant to know each other like this, but he had pushed, forced, and bashed himself into the wall that was separating him from her. Because he had believed that all kinds of hard work would pay off in the end.

This time, she paid greatly for it. And he was reminded of it everytime he looked at her. It was his fault.

The silence between them was broken by the medic who entered carrying a Curaga materia. She kindly told Tifa to relax as she instructed her to lay down and began to cast the glow of the healing spell. Rufus excused himself and true enough, his other responsibilities came flooding back to him the moment he stepped out of the bedroom. And true enough, his mind was ladened with disquiet for her and hatred for those degenerates who did this to her. But in the end, it was all him, the low-life who never failed to cause her pain and harm.

Because it was all his fault.

Author's Note: Tifa in Rufus' flat in a place that snows? Why, I won't even dare not take advantage of this! Wait 'til I write the next chapter. Been looking forward to working on that one!