A/N: Hello, everyone! Super sorry that there was randomly no update last week. I was just completely indecisive as to how I wanted to shape this chapter from the raw material I wrote months ago, but I think I finally got it somewhere where I want it to be.

AND CAN WE JUST. E3 TRAILER. OH GOD. It aired at 2am my time and I was up until 3:30am hyperventilating. I have been through every VII:remake trailer on .25x speed pausing on every single frame (I wish I was joking but I'm not) and I'm just so in love with the environments. Writing this story made me reimagine what Midgar would look and feel like from the inside on a more realistic level, and the E3 trailer is honestly exactly as detailed as I imagined and hoped Midgar to be. You can see at least two residential/entertainment districts on the topside of the plate (this is as Midgar is referred to in On the Way to a Smile, by the way, as topside and bottomside, if you wondered where I got that from) and it's absolutely perfect, and REALLY perfect for setting the scene of this next chapter!

Thanks again so much for sticking with me this far, it genuinely means a lot to me! Of course, I'd continue writing even if nobody read it, but the fact that people do just makes it that bit more exciting to post. So. Last chapter, interesting, very interesting. Probably more important than it may currently appear. For now, super long chapter ahead, here we are with something somewhat…lighter. But you know what they say about the calm before the storm…

Have an excellent week!

12th Jun '19

Chapter 14: Avalon

"She creates a façade, hides her feelings beneath bravado, an unnatural, very forced kind of confidence, and she maintains it until it breaks her."

"Until it breaks her?"

The man paused. "It will break her, of that I am fairly sure. Eventually. No one can hide their fear forever. She breaks down occasionally. There are tears and bursts of anger, there are submissions to a small selection of friends. And she gets up and continues for a while longer."

"Pathetic—"

"—Well. Yes. In the long-term. In the short-term, however, it's exactly what we need. If she buries her fears, I don't give a damn how temporary that relief is. If it keeps her moving, keeps her functioning, that is all that matters."

"If you are sure. You believe her bravado will keep her alive for long enough to survive ASURA, but not long enough to get her home?"

Tseng turned his back and pursed his lips. "Indeed."

"Perfect."

At some point between the press-ups, pull-ups, hand-to-hand, assault courses, cross-country running (with heavy bergens on their backs), fieldcraft lessons, marksmanship principles, Skill at Arms sessions, arguments, fights and endless tests, the atmosphere had tilted. Went sour and thick like curdled milk.

The space in the cadet barracks had always been highly-charged, but now it was downright volatile. Ready to burn. And actually, Aster didn't understand why this time. Usually—or at least, in her experience up until now—Tseng had placed her into a position that forced the cadets against her. This time it seemed to happen on its own.

Newberry's cheeks were blotchy and red as he passed her, and when Aster rolled her eyes, he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her so hard she stumbled into Rex's bed frame.

"Don't even look at me wrong," he snapped.

Aster didn't have time to realise what even happened. When the cogs did finally turn, he'd already stormed out the door for lunch. She wasn't the only mildly confused-looking cadet, either.

"Yikes," said Matt in passing, throwing his hands behind his messy brown hair. "What'd you do to piss him off this time?"

Aster shrugged, compressing all the steam of her anger into her head like a pressure cooker. "Breathed?"

The boy snickered before he headed out, too. Rex, strewn over his bed and easily the untidiest thing currently in the room, shrugged at her cluelessly.

She yanked open her cabinet door. Uniforms stacked neatly and possessions clean, identically laid out to that of everyone else's cabinets. Except at the bottom of hers sat a brown paper bag of miscellany, a gift bag, and a sealed duffel bag that held Tseng's beaten-up shirt and her own bloody clothes from the day of the raid on Icicle Inn. The Department of Administrative Affairs wrote a letter of permission to Public Safety for her to house such contraband—although such permission did not extend to include the watch and bracelet she hid beneath her gloves, nor the switchblade wrapped inside her clothes at the bottom of the duffel bag.

When Aster pulled out the gift bag and the paper bag to take them to Tifa's before they were discovered, Rex pointed at them. "You not going to mess?"

"Nope."

"Tseng's letting you have the arvo off?"

She shrugged. "On Saturday's I do extra hand-to-hand training. Then I—" She hesitated and checked the room was empty. "—Work at the bar, remember?"

Not exactly what she'd be doing tonight, but still. She pulled her bedsheets taut one last time for good measure and said, "What about you?"

Rex sighed. "I'm on 'security detail' for the SOLDIER inauguration tonight."

She winced. Everyone, even the greenest of cadets, knew that security detail at such a low rank was merely standing in uniform looking pretty somewhere boring for hours on end. "You signed up for that?"

"Yeah." He blew out his cheeks with a big sigh. "Figured since we can't go, might as well get some benefit out of what we're missing."

Aster chewed her lip, eyes wandering out of focus and beyond him. "What's up your bum?" he said, and when she didn't respond, he filled in the gaps himself with the fall of his shoulders. "You're going, aren't you."

"Well…" For a moment, she even considered lying. But then, if she couldn't trust Rex in here, who could she trust? "Yeah."

He tipped his head in such a way she didn't know whether he approved or held it against her. "Good. She'll be right, Aster."

"Thanks," she said, smiling gingerly at his choice of expression. "Don't have too much fun on security, now."

"Might love it so much I give up on the SOLDIER dream and join the Security Department instead."

Aster smirked and grabbed her bags. "You'd look great in the uniform."

"Me in red and blue? Nah. The SOLDIER uniform'll bring out my eyes."

Heading out the door, she laughed. "The Mako will do that bit."

The early evening sun streamed through the windows of Tifa's apartment and warmed Aster's legs as she combed through her damp hair. Tifa drifted between the kitchen and her bedroom, and the gentle sound of piano music ambled in the air. Tifa said it reminded her of home, of her mother.

While it wasn't strictly Aster's type, it smoothed her rough edges. The blended aroma of herbs and spices wafted through the apartment, and she could just about hear the sizzling and boiling of various pots and pans in the kitchen.

The younger of the two sat holding a compact mirror in one hand and a mascara brush in the other, pulling a variety of strange faces as she coated her lashes. Tifa interrupted her concentration. "What happens if you get recognised?"

"Okay, so, I have a plan. It's not a good plan. It's not really a plan, either—bear with me here."

"Bearing," Tifa said with an amused smile, leaning against the kitchen doorframe and pulling a cloth between her fingers.

"Not many people have actually seen my face," Aster said, contemplatively leaning her chin on her mascara-wielding hand, looking for a second like she might accidentally smear it all over her face. "Obviously the squad have, but most of them won't be around, and the DI knows what I look like, but he's going to be with the off-duty squad."

"So your plan is… 'just don't get recognised'?"

"Exactly."

"Great plan." Tifa laughed, shaking her head and disappearing back into the kitchen.

Aster swiped her lashes with the mascara wand. "Goddess only knows I don't need them finding out about this. As if the squad need more reasons to hate me."

There was a knock at the door, and for a moment, Aster wildly panicked at her under-dressed state until she spotted the time and realised it couldn't possibly be Zack already. Heart in her mouth and forehead beginning to cool down, she called to Tifa, "I'll get it," and unlocked the door.

She recoiled when she opened it at the sight of the only hair that could rival Zack's, except it was even spikier and better defied gravity. Diametrically opposed to Zack's raven, though, was his blonde, and it was a much brighter, more golden blonde than Aster's pallid shade. Mako eyes shone at her.

By his expression, he wasn't expecting her, and neither was she, him. She blinked. "Cloud, wasn't it? Tifa's in the kitchen."

"Thanks," he said with a nod, his voice softer than she remembered it from the bar.

Aster closed the door behind him and frowned to herself. When she turned and watched him extend then clench his fingers like he didn't know where to put his hands, she added together the music, the food and his nervous tension.

She pressed a finger to her lip at her conclusion, then cleared the make-up and gift bag containing her dress from the couch. He sat somewhat stiffly in the space she made for him.

"Don't worry," she said with a stifled grin. "I'm not staying."

He looked up at her with a furrowed brow. "What do you mean 'don't worry'?"

She simply smiled and went into the kitchen. She didn't speak for a moment, just leaned against the counter nursing a growing smirk, watching her friend grabbing a couple of plates from a cupboard near her hip. When she felt Tifa was intentionally ignoring her presence, she cleared her throat obnoxiously loudly.

Finally, Tifa turned to face her. She placed her hands on her hips. "What."

"Didn't tell me you had a date…!"

Tifa sighed and shook her head. "I already told you, it's not like that. I haven't seen him for years. We're catching up."

"Over a candlelit dinner and a few glasses of wine…" Aster said wistfully, clasping her hands together and trying desperately hard not to start laughing when Tifa sent her a gentle death glare—a glare with intent to incapacitate, not kill.

"Where are you meeting Zack?" Tifa asked, so casually that Aster was convinced she was just trying to change the subject.

Here, in truth. But Aster quickly decided she'd meet him halfway since she didn't want to impede upon Tifa's evening, so she told a little white lie. A lie that for once, she didn't feel an ounce of guilt over. "I'm gonna meet him at his place."

"Alright," the older girl said, giving her a quick hug. "Enjoy yourself, okay?"

"You too." Aster smiled and turned to leave the kitchen but paused beside a wine cabinet. She pointed at it. "Make sure you use the best stuff—"

"—Aster!"

She burst into laughter as she left, pretty sure that a kitchen cloth had been hurled at the back of her head but narrowly missed and hit a cabinet instead, and disappeared into the bathroom to get ready.

The Wall Market dress slipped over her skin to a perfect fit. It wasn't much. Plain, knee-length chiffon in a rich maroon that was backless thanks to the halter-neck. It was simple but pretty, and she could use it for skating shows, too—that is, if she ever got to skate again.

Her hair fell over her back, hanging in waves, a feeling nothing short of luxury to her now. In the mirror, she looked different. Really different. Less of a monster of military proportions.

She shoved her government-issued PHS and some gil in a tiny purse that looped over her wrist and pulled open the door. Through the crack, Tifa and Cloud sat on the couch and plates of food with steam still rising from them sat untouched on the coffee table. Tifa, for a moment, looked painfully serious—what on Gaia could they be catching up on?

Still, they were clearly completely oblivious to the rest of the world around them. Aster was fairly sure the walls could have fallen down and still neither would have noticed. Or maybe they would have noticed, but not cared.

Sneaking out was easy. Gentle on the locks, Aster slipped through the front door without more than the sound of the latch clicking into place when she closed it behind her, and she left the Residential complex for the SOLDIER buildings.

Due to early spring, the sun was preparing its descent, and nineteen hundred hours on a Saturday evening topside was fascinating. There were people everywhere, under the golden lights that flickered on come the young evening, making the sequinned dresses of young women sparkle like the flashes of a paparazzi's camera, and young men—somewhat obviously a lot of members of SOLDIER and the infantry—travelling in groups, loud with laughter and ready to drink the local bars dry. It brought a grin to Aster's face. Night-life here was a hell of a lot different to anywhere else in the world.

And then, across the paved courtyard that extended from the SOLDIER building, she caught the eyes of the man she had been trying to find, and she hadn't needed any time to compose her bravery because before she knew what was happening her heels were clicking the pavement under her jog to him. He clearly didn't see her through the crowds until she was but a few steps away. A smile breached her cheeks.

Surprise crossed his face, dropping his mouth open slightly as soon as realisation reached him. She bounced up to him, unable to control the explosive mixture of excitement and nerves that bubbled in her chest, and gently touched his shoulder in greeting.

It was an official event, after all, so Zack and all of his fellow SOLDIER compatriots were required to dress in uniform, the difference being that the shoulder guards and respective leather straps were nowhere to be seen, replaced by a suit jacket of sorts over his famed black turtleneck.

She chewed her lip under his gaze before grinning and pushing up his chin to close his mouth. As soon as she did, he smiled.

"You don't scrub up too bad," she said with a grin.

"And you are absolutely gorgeous," he said bluntly, colouring her cheeks with a similar fierce shade of garnet as her dress. He took this as a victory and wore it across his grin, offering her his arm. With a slightly coyer smile, she took it, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow.

"Well," he proclaimed dramatically, "I was about to pick you up from Tifa's."

"Then I'm glad you're adaptable."

"Just couldn't wait to see me, huh?" he drawled with mischief dripping from his voice.

She mock-scowled at him. "Actually, I'm just hungry."

"Wanna go eat before we hit the party?"

"Always," she said with a grin. "I was a bit worried I'd have to raid HQ's kitchens."

"We can do both."

"I'm down for both."

He laughed. "Great, alright. There's a nice place up Sector One topside if you don't mind a trek. We'll take my bike."

She almost blew him backwards with her vigorous response. "Bike? Sounds even better."

"Never ridden one?"

"Not really the terrain for it where I'm from, don't you think?"

"You kidding? Motorbiking in the snow is incredible! Only been a few times though—crashed not far from Bone Village when I was stationed there once," he said, then tagged on a quiet mumble in some form of regret—although it wasn't particularly convincing due to his smirk, "I got'n trouble 'cause it wasn't my bike."

Aster chuckled behind her hand. "Whose was it?"

"Reno of the Turks."

"Oh," she said, laughing slightly harder at the thought. "I'm sure he got over it."

"Dunno. Reno, ah…he can keep revenge suspended for a real long time. I'm still sleeping with one eye open 'case he goes for the hair," he said, pointing to his black spikes with a false sense of terror. "Seriously, you ever see Reno coming, you should run the other way."

She scratched her cheek. "Er, right…got it."

"Might be unavoidable, with your job."

Her fingers dropped from his elbow like a stone. "What?"

"I heard he likes a drink," he said, with a shrug.

"Oh—oh, Goddess, ha aha…right. You're right," she said, disguising her shuddering sigh of relief under a laugh. "Surprising, actually, how many of your fellow sword-busters enjoy a tipple or twenty on a Saturday night."

"Not me!"

"No, you're in it for the fries."

"Hey, and the company. They have this new barmaid, and…" he trailed off with a grin.

In the basement quad of the SOLDIER building, Zack threw a long leg over his bike, forcing Aster to avert her eyes to avoid an untimely blush. Helmet on ready, she too would need to throw a leg over the bike. Hitching up her skirt and mounting the bike wasn't the problem—she was never particularly body conscious. Actually, there was no problem. The way her body slid into his back was hardly a problem. While she was stifling her quickening breaths and gingerly resting her hands on his sides, he was no doubt valiantly trying to ignore her thighs and knees beside his hips.

Trying and failing so badly Aster wasn't sure he'd tried at all. He half-turned to her and rested a hand against her leg. "Aren't you gonna be cold?"

She shook her head, but her smile was lost beneath her helmet. "It's already warmer here than it is in summer in Icicle Inn."

"You serious?"

"Oh, yeah. Snows nearly all year unless you head south."

"Jeez," he said. "Sounds rough."

"Maybe for you," she said, with a light jab to the kidney area, "you're from the jungle!"

"Hey! Don't make fun of us born in the sun—you'd totally wilt in Gongaga."

"Bet I'd last longer in Gongaga than you would in Icicle Inn."

"Wrong, and that sounds like a challenge and you're gonna regret it."

She laughed, wrapping her arms firmly around his waist, nerves melting away into comfort. He brushed her knee and thigh once more before starting his bike up and whistling out from the parking garage and into the cool Midgar night.

They ambled hand in hand through a crowded avenue lined with restaurants and bars at a lazy, sauntering pace, laughter escaping her open mouth as she stared up to the heights of the buildings and the flashing of huge adverts, at least one of which displayed the iconic poster art for LOVELESS in the largest theatre of Midgar. Her heels clicked twice for his every long stride, and the pair of them looked very much like every other couple that wandered up and down the street.

"Up here," he said, pointing to a staircase between a restaurant and a bar and taking the steps two at a time.

It was a small place, completely tucked away and almost unknown even in such a busy street, likely owing to its tucked away entrance. Actually, small was an understatement; there were about seven tables. It was tiny. But the atmosphere was calm and warm, and the window they sat by overlooked the busy street, where they watched people of varying degrees of sobriety walk, or stumble, up and down, city lights playing across their faces.

A candle lit the space between them and conversation was easy and gentle. No awkward silence and no forced conversation to avoid it; any lull was natural and peaceful, not expectant or hesitant. The food was amazing. The company, better. Their laughter rang between their glasses and filled the room, and neither of them cared.

Eventually, Zack looked at the time. "I suppose we're late."

Aster smiled. "Time well spent."

Nestled within one of the offshoots of Shinra Headquarters laid a beautiful state ballroom. The floorboards were polished until they shone, windows looked out to the breathing machine of Midgar's sector cities, and a stage stood adorned with plush velvet curtains and live music playing from a range of instruments from the band in the back. Tables were scattered around the dance floor, and the fancy seating in tiers up the walls suggested that the executives and maybe even the President Shinra himself would sit up there somewhere, likely during important events—like the SOLDIER inauguration ceremony that Zack and Aster had missed by about two hours.

It wasn't all that surprising that such a gilded and spectacular venue such as this existed within Shinra's walls, after all, it was a vivid display of luxury, money and power, three of the things that Old Man Shinra publicly stood for. It was open to civilians, too, to those that could afford admission. So, topsiders.

There were multiple bars in the room, swarmed with newly minted members of SOLDIER, without yet the SOLDIER glow, and instated ones alike, and although the music was loud, so was the laughter and raucousness all around.

An ice sculpture marked a buffet table stocked full of fancy foods that barely looked edible—they looked more like painted works of art made of ceramic and glass. Drawn to a platter of what looked like iridescent pearls no larger than a piece of materia, Aster picked one up and bit into it, not expecting its delicate shell casing to be sugar that melted in her mouth along with the chocolate truffle inside it.

Man, Shinra pulled all the stops.

She turned to Zack with wide eyes and a cheek full of chocolate. "This's incredible!"

He grinned. "Want a drink?"

"Yeah, okay," she said. "Can you excuse me for a moment, though? I'll come find you."

He pushed her hair back over her shoulders and pointed to one of the floor level bars. "No problem. I'll be over there."

"Thanks," she said, trying to ignore the tingling of her skin where his fingers brushed.

He disappeared through the dancing and drinking people that swarmed the bar and tables, and Aster got to work. She wrapped a few pearly chocolates into a napkin and met a few distasteful glares from snobbish onlookers with the poke of her tongue.

With her tiny parcel, she spun on her heel, scanning the faces of the hundreds within the ballroom walls, relaxing in the sheer volume of people, knowing with every additional individual in the room she became more invisible. Comforted by that knowledge, she slipped through the vast, glass revolving doors and into the foyer.

Low ranking members of SOLDIER—who evidently drew the short straw—stood with perfect posture on security at various posts, infantrymen among them. It didn't take her long, exiting the foyer, to find the man she was looking for. He did a double take.

"Aster? Shit, you look different when you're not covered in sweat and blood," said Rex, cocking up his helmet so it hardly sat on his head to get an unfiltered view with his hazel-green eyes.

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment. Having fun?"

"Frothing, mate."

"Less of the sarcasm, it's unbecoming."

Rex snorted loudly. "Coming from you?"

"Hey, you should be nicer to those bearing gifts," she said, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly as she took his hand and placed the wrapped chocolates in it.

"You beauty!" He grinned, unravelling them feverishly before sealing them up once more. "Thanks!"

"Don't mention it."

"So," he said, putting the chocolates into his pockets and shoving his hands into them, too. "Who's the lucky guy?"

She snorted. "You mean 'unlucky'?"

"'Course," he said with a half-smirk.

She pinched her lip between her teeth. It wasn't like she could lie. Random guys in bars in the slums don't just happen to be able to get you into one of the most prestigious events of Shinra's calendar year. "Don't tell anyone. It's kinda, um…"

He raised an eyebrow.

"…Zack."

Disbelief crossed his face followed by a knockout 'are you serious' look. "Zack."

"Yeah…?" she said sheepishly, wincing like she would when her younger, wiser brother scolded her.

"Of all the men in Midgar, you picked one of your commanders?" Rex laughed. It came out almost like a cough. "Wow."

"Hey—it could be worse!"

"It could literally only have been worse if you'd picked Tseng—"

Aster shuddered violently. "Geez, don't say that."

"—to which I would have had to vehemently reject for obvious reasons."

She scoffed amusedly and crossed her arms firmly over her chest. "Okay, you have the final say over my love life, that it? Does Zack make the cut?"

Rex stroked his chin, but despite the theatrics, his words came out relatively serious. "Zack's a good guy. I respect him."

"I'm so glad that I have your seal of approval."

He laughed outright. "Don't give me that face. You'd better get back in there before he reckons you gave him the flick."

"Yeah, you're right. Have a good night, Rex."

"You too," he called to her back as she turned on the ball of her foot, skirt kicking up behind her in the breeze of her movement. He knocked his helmet back onto his head. "You look great by the way!"

She laughed and turned, walking backwards a few steps before spinning off again. "Thank you!"

It was getting late and the alcohol content of the breathing air was getting to levels of toxicity—okay, it wasn't that bad, but there were more than a few celebrating SOLDIER members who had probably had a few too many. Everyone else was just enjoying themselves.

An extraordinarily young member of SOLDIER First Class and a stolen selective from an agent-creating administration sat at a table, voices fighting over the music and noise, throats straining but neither caring. Eventually, she settled for scooting her chair to his side instead of opposite him, and from there they spoke comfortably into one another's ears, surrounded by the bustling but not part of it.

A couple of drinks were of utmost import, if only because for one, it was novel for Aster to be on the same side of the bar as Zack and not serving him, and for two, if either of them were going to go anywhere near that dance floor, one or both of them were gonna need to be at least slightly lubricated.

That's all it took.

"C' mon," Zack urged, tugging her hand and pulling her into him. "I know you can dance!"

"On ice," she whined, but couldn't argue. She lost the battle she chose not to fight in a single breath because there, stood inches from him and staring up into his face, she decided steadfast never to be any further away ever again. If the dance floor was his destination, she was going to follow.

That, she did.

Laughing, she let him lead her into the middle of the floor, wading through people everywhere, a blur, a dream, only he in sharp focus. The sight of his shoulders, his back, then, when he turned, his brilliant blue eyes, sparkling even in the low light. He drew her toward him and rested his hand on her hip.

She lost her vision for that split second, as the warmth from his hand and his body enveloped her and reminded her how coldly she'd been living. Now was her time to feel alive. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and her rigidity and apprehension became lost under her laughter; her feet floated over the floor. She wasn't even thinking about it.

Slightly breathlessly, she tiptoed and spoke into his ear. "Who knew you were such a good dancer?"

"Want the truth?"

"Only if it's hilarious."

"It could be," he said grinning. He twirled her around and pulled her back, his chest pressing against her shoulder blades so that this time, he was murmuring against her ear. She shivered, he noticed. "I used to get lessons."

Her chest rose and fell beneath his sculpted forearms. "Oh yeah? How come?"

He spun her out gracefully and placed his hand back upon her hip. "Because my footwork in sword mastery was terrible."

She stopped dead in her tracks, almost tripping him over her feet. "Get out!"

He laughed. "No, I'm serious. It was my mentor's idea. I took, like, a whole year of lessons when I was fifteen or something, and it worked a charm. And sometimes it charms the ladies, too."

She grinned. "I guess it does."

The conversations between their mouths and the ones between their bodies were different. Tongues light with laughter, but bodies shivering with anticipation and hesitation. The music grew louder, ready for the finale of the evening, the room full of vibrant life yet so dull compared to the connection that reached between them.

The smile slowly fell from her face as the quivering of her heart took hold, losing herself in his eyes, the shape of his lips. And likewise, something took hold of his features, too, a braveness, resolve. They didn't need to smile anyway, the way they moved did it for them.

His hand slid to her back, the burn of skin on skin catching her breath as he dipped her gently, and she arched her back with the music. His free hand brushed her neck, lips but inches apart, erratic breaths suspended in the space between them. Her hand found his cheek and jaw of its own accord, and slowly they rose, the dance forgotten and music merely muffled noise.

Heat rushed to her cheeks as his unfocused eyes flicked slowly between her eyes and lips. A pull drew her in as he tilted his head into hers.

But her spine went rigid before their lips could meet, and she staggered away. Her heart stopped fluttering—stopped altogether. Zack followed her line of sight, swallowing back his longing.

Hers, eyes like a deer in headlights, met a pair as black as obsidian. Tseng.

A girl behind him, petite, with a jaw length, tapered bob of canary blonde hair and cold dark eyes stood behind his shoulder. She wore not the full Turks uniform, yet…

Aster's mouth fell open and dried, and she couldn't feel Zack rubbing her side in an attempt to soothe her, or rouse her from her state of daze.

Tseng didn't look away. Neither did he speak. Eventually, he flicked his eyes to Zack and strode past with the blonde at his heel.

Aster stumbled back a full step, but Zack's firm hold of her hip steadied her. "Are you alright?"

Her heart—and head—started pounding, and the music filled her ears again. Her hyperawareness as to his hands on her body returned, and she focussed back into his eyes, wide with concern.

"Wh-who was that?"

"Aster, your hands are shaking—"

He was right. He was holding them both in his now. "Sorry. I'm sorry." She let go of his fingers and shook them out vigorously. "Who was that?"

"Uh…" Zack followed the Turk leader with his eyes, frowning. "His name is Tseng. He's head of the Turks."

Aster shook her head forcefully, clutching Zack's arm so the dread piling in her stomach couldn't pull her to her knees. "No, not him, the girl. Who was that girl?"

"The girl?" Zack repeated out of confusion, scratching the back of his head. "I think her name is…Elena? Yeah, that's it. She's the Turk candidate."

Aster snapped her eyes up to his. "What?" She ran her fingers into her hair. "But…the… You—didn't you say the Selective was in one of your squads?"

There could be nothing good from Tseng training another recruit. Was she failing? Or was it something else?

Zack took half a step back so he could meet her severe gaze a little more comfortably. "She is…but Elena is a Turk candidate, not a Selective."

"What's the difference?"

Zack's eyes drifted into the crowd, and in the slight tugging together of his eyebrows, she could almost see him fight a war within himself to tell an ugly truth. She just knew it. "Candidates are trained by the Military Academy and Intelligence branches of Shinra. They're on a career path, right? It's their choice. Selectives are…" he began, before looking into her eyes again with regained resolve. "Hired. Head-hunted. Not often brought through will… Then they're trained for specific missions. Their fates are usually pretty grim. It's a bit of a shadow of the company really," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "No one knows a lot about it."

Horror sucked the colour from her skin like he'd just threatened to kill her, but he wouldn't understand why. Why her icy blue eyes quaked, why her nostrils were flared, or why her mouth was hanging open, and if he strained his augmented hearing, he couldn't understand why her breathing was hitched and panicked.

Their fates are what?

"Aster, what's wrong?"

She blinked hard, shaking her head, rattling away the spindly clutches fear around her head. "I'm sorry, I heard that the…selective is from Icicle Inn, is all. I was afraid that maybe she was someone I know."

"I only know her surname; it's Doe. I've met her a couple times."

"I guess I don't know her, then." Aster swallowed down her urge to whimper and shook her head. A deep sigh escaped her. "There was never anyone in Icicle Inn with the name Doe."

He pulled her into him, only swaying with the music, and not bothering to move his feet. He ran his fingers up and down her spine, the touch threatening to reduce her backbone to rope. She smiled again, and in truth, it was partly forced, because her infatuation with Zack was currently battling with the troubling things he'd told her, and she didn't know which one would win out. He knew more. She could tell, but couldn't ask. She wrapped her arms around his neck tentatively, nowhere else to look but his eyes.

Looked like her infatuation would win out after all.

The music was slow and drew out into the background, but neither noticed, embracing still, swaying in time with each other, murmuring to one another in their own shared space, and genuine smiles returning to her lips. It was only when the lights gradually returned to their fullest that either realised the party was over.

She looked around quizzically, as though she was wondering how she'd managed to completely miss the mass exodus that had taken place in the last ten or fifteen minutes. The band was still playing in the corner at less than half-volume, waiting for the two idiots on the dance floor to go the hell away so they could go home, probably.

"You know," Zack said, a smile gaining on his face rapidly. "We never finished that dance."

Her quiet giggle was the loudest sound in the deserted space as she placed her hand on his shoulder once again. Streamers and confetti, napkins, cans and wrappers were strewn across the floor, cleaners coming in and sweeping the remnants of the party away. But amidst the havoc, to Zack, nothing else existed. Besides her, there was nothing. The background faded out of focus, all he saw were ribbons of her wavy blonde hair as she twirled and her eyes with a hint of mischief whenever she looked at him. Her frame, the shape of her body. Communication in motion.

The night was ending, but by Goddess, if he wasn't gonna remember every moment. Commit it to memory. Their shared breaths. The exact colour of her eyes, the way they shone with silver thread in the light. The shape of her figure. Feel of her skin.

But he'd have to dream of the taste of her lips. Dreams that kept him up all night.