Affirmation

Chapter Three: The Grass is No More Greener on the Other Side

A FF7 Fanfiction

By

Lady Aoi

Summary: Set forty years before game, this is the story of Shinra's space program, and the impossible love between two men – Heidegger and Palmer. In this chapter, they finally meet.

Rating: R for language, limeish shounen-ai.

Disclaimer: Palmer, Heidegger, Hojo, Gast, President Shinra and any other cannon character who wanders into this fic and decides to stay isn't mine. They all belong to Squaresoft. Hail the almighty Square!

Lady Aoi's Notes: Once again, the doujinshi pic that inspired this story can be found at . Is it just my imagination, or are Heidegger and Palmer standing awfully close together? And Reeve looks like he's about seventeen!

Anyway, I'd like to apologize to this story's readers (all two of you ^_~) for taking so long to update. This semester has been especially rough with a full load of theatre and classes. In fact, I should be hard at work right now on my thesis, but Palmer demanded I update. And since I'd kept him waiting since December, I felt it was only fair.

Thanks also go to my sister Shahnida for helping me figure out some of Heidegger and Palmer's dialogue in this chapter (we did an AIM role-play for them quite sometime ago, and I just recently stumbled across the log, liked what I saw and thought I'd use it). You rock sis! Be sure and check out her fanfiction and her brilliant original story "Innocent Sin" on fictionpress.net. Love you, sis!

And now, on with the story.

~*~

            After several walking minutes (and several exhortations for Palmer to "stop daydreaming and keep moving!"), Shinra Inc's elite engineering corps finally arrived at their destination – a small overlook on top of Sector Four's recently completed main pillar.

            "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the fruits of your most recent labor," Even President Shinra was unable to hide his awe as he gestured at the sweeping cityscape before them.

And what a city! Even though it looked tiny on paper, Midgar was huge. And it would be even bigger as soon as they finished it. As the engineers oohed, ahhed and scribbled furiously in their notebooks, Palmer rubbed his eyes and tried to find the appropriate words to describe the miles and miles of neon and chrome sprawling out below him. Preferably better words than 'heck' and 'really big'. In the end, he managed to find only one:

"Wow."

Really, how the did these engineers do it? How did you make a drawing on a piece of graph paper and actually turn it into this huge vaguely asterisk-shaped… building? Yes, building was a good word. To Palmer, Midgar looked like one gargantuan unified structure – the spokes of a giant's bicycle wheel, maybe, with Shinra Tower in the center where the ring should be. Only four spokes were complete as of now.

"Wow… just wow…" he repeated softly as Shinra approached him.

"Like what you see, Palmer?"

The blond nodded so vigorously his neck snapped. Wincing, he slipped a hand behind his head to massage the area before flashing Shinra a huge smile. "It's so… so… wow…"

"…Ah, indeed. And you know what would make it even more "so…wow", Palmer?"

Failing to notice the edge in Shinra's voice, Palmer thoughtfully slipped a finger onto his lip. "Um… maybe if we painted it green or something? 'Cause green's a really nice color, and it'd look especially pretty at night with all the mako lights shining on it and –"

"Palmer, do you understand what sarcasm is?"

The engineer blinked. Wow. President Shinra did not look happy! He'd have to be careful when answering. "Uhm… yes?"

"Then you do understand that I've been relying on it during this entire conversation, don't you?"

"…..um…. you were?"

Once again, Shinra's palm met his forehead. "Sir, are you okay?" Palmer asked.

It took a moment for Shinra to find his voice. When he did, he was not surprised at its harshness. "No, Palmer. I'm not okay."

The young engineer patted Shinra's back lightly. "You look kinda sick," he said sagely. "Maybe you should go lie down or something?" Palmer blushed in surprise as Shinra looked up and slid a hand onto his shoulder.

"Palmer, listen. Please? I'm not okay because your work hasn't been okay. Do you understand?"

"Yes…" Palmer looked down at his feet and twiddled his thumbs.

"And this city would get designed and built a whole lot faster if you'd do the work you're assigned instead of playing with the toys in your office, alright?"

Palmer felt as if the bottom had just dropped out of his stomach. "I know…but…"

"But? But you don't feel competent working in your field?" Shinra's voice was almost hopeful.

"Well…" how Palmer would have loved to say yes! It would be so simple to give President Shinra the explanation he wanted because it was the truth. God, how he wanted to quit his job and just go home! Sure, taking care of his mother during her most violent fits wasn't exactly a picnic but at least he'd done it before and knew what to expect. And yet, if he spilled his guts to Shinra and got fired right here and now, his father would never let him hear the end of it. And between his job and his father, there was no doubt in Palmer's mind which he feared more. Thus, the young man merely shook his head and answered Shinra's question with "I guess I just need to get motivated is all, sir."  

"I see…" Shinra smiled dangerously. He was just about to verbally bite into the so-called engineer when a reedy voice interrupted him.

"You're not the only one who needs to get motivated, Mister Palmer."

President Shinra visibly cringed. Of all the blasted bad timing…"Oh, hello Simon. Fancy seeing you here."

The dark-haired child bristled at this deadpan delivery. "Oh, do try and contain yourself, Jonathan," he snapped. For his part, Palmer eyed the boy curiously. Who was he, and what was he doing here? More importantly…

"Hey there, little boy," sunlight flashed menacingly across his glasses as the boy pivoted. Palmer smiled and offered him the box. "Would you like a doughnut?"

Shinra's forehead met his palm yet again as Simon Hojo's dark eyes narrowed into cruel little slits. "Would. I. Like. A. Doughnut. Little. Boy?" The funereal chill of these words managed to effectively silence every adult within hearing range. All save Matthew Palmer, who merely smiled indulgently and again offered the box, as if it were a holy relic or a delicacy (to Palmer, these were synonymous).

"Yeah…hey, you know the powdered ones are the best. 'Cause they have jelly in the middle and -- " Palmer's words caught in his throat as the boy slapped the box from his hands, sending its sugary contents flying. "Oh no…" the engineer knelt beside his fallen confections and turned the nearest (a rather misshapen glazed affair) over and over, like a doctor appraising a small, wounded sparrow. "Oh no oh no oh no oh no…"

"Oh, please oh please oh please oh please!" Hojo mimicked. "Look at you! A grown man crying over spilt doughnuts!" Hojo rolled his eyes as Palmer hugged the crushed box to his chest and began crying. "And you fault me for my age?" he asked Shinra, bitterly.

The young president had to remind himself not to strike the child. Violence never really solved anything in the end. And besides, Professor Gast was so much better at it.

            "Hey!" Hojo rubbed his head and glared up at his mentor murderously. "That really hurt this time!"

            "Well, good," Professor Gerald Gast put his hands akimbo and glared at his young protégée. "Simon, what did I tell you about back talking your elders again?"

            "That I should do it only when their IQs are obviously lower than mine?" Once again, Gast's hand came down firmly on the back of Hojo's head. "No," Gast said patiently as Hojo glowered. "You are never to do it period. First of all, it's rude and secondly, you're far too talented and smart to use language like that."

            "Language like what?" Hojo backed away even though Gast had not move to raise his hand. "If I'd really wanted to insult that pathetic excuse of a president or that savant of an engineer, I would have called them both coc –"

            "Simon, do you want a time out for the rest of the afternoon?"

            Hojo poked the tip of his shoe into one of the holes on the grating beneath him. "No, professor."

            "And I don't want that either. After all, we have a very important experiment to do today."

            "If it's that stupid funny face project you give to all the other kids, then no thank you. I'd rather take the time out…or shoot myself in the foot. Whatever."

            "Actually, I had hoped you could help me out with something involving the Cetra today. But if you're going to be cranky…"

            "Cetra?" Hojo's head shot up interestedly, but his expression quickly soured at the sight of Gast's smiling face. "Ohhh, great. You're giving me that look again."

            "Mhh-hmmm," Gast nodded. "If you're going to help me with Miss Ifalna today you have to apologize to President Shinra and to…um…"

            "Waaaaaaaah!" Palmer sobbed, clinging to his doughnut box for dear life. He didn't notice Gast's attempt to learn his name.

            "To his sad friend over there," Gast said, abandoning all hope of getting a response from Palmer. "So, what's it gonna be, Simon?"

            "My God, must you be so patronizing?" Hojo sighed and turned to President Shinra (who had been watching all of this while desperately and quite unsuccessfully attempting to hide his mirth). "Sorry, President Shinra. I shouldn't have said that. And sorry, Mr. Palmer." Palmer just stroked one of his jelly doughnuts while crooning silently to it. Hojo rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Professor! Look at him!"

            "Mr. Palmer, please accept my sincerest apologies for my student's behavior. Simon means well –"

            "I do not. He's a big baby and -- Mpph?!?"

            Gast clamped a hand over his protégée's mouth while laughing nervously. "He means well, but I'm afraid he's at that incorrigible stage in life where filthy language, rude jokes and insulting people suddenly become a favored past time! (Simon don't kick me. My goodness, I really can't take you anywhere!). But he's very sorry for ruining your doughnuts. At least he will be when I make him buy you a new box with his allowance this week! (And don't you pull that face on me, young man! You had ample warning to make amends and you refused!). Is that satisfactory, Mr. Palmer?"

            Palmer hiccupped an affirmative and slowly hauled himself to his feet. He still clung to the doughnut box as if it were a wounded child and as Gast released Hojo from his grasp he backed up and hid behind President Shinra.

            For his part, Shinra scarcely even noticed. The interplay between Gast and his student had just given him a monthly dose of absurdity, and he suddenly felt his headache coming back on.

            "President Shinra, once again I am very sorry for the boy's behavior. Simon, go back to the lab now, please? I'll join you in a minute."

            "No, I won't go back to the lab. You're just going to tell him about the accident and about how I'm just some poor little boy whose still grieving and who doesn't know what he's doing." Hojo made a face. "I freaking hate it when you do that."

            "Simon Hojo," Gast placed his hands on his hips and gave Hojo a truly displeased look. "If you don't return to the laboratory this minute, you can not only forget about assisting me tonight, but you can also forget about visiting the Valentines' this weekend. Or any weekend for the rest of the year."

            For some reason this threat seemed to phase Hojo. "I really hate it when you talk about me like I'm not here," he grumbled. But he turned and descended the staircase without another word nonetheless. As he left, Gast brought a fatigued hand to his temples and sighed.

            "Mr. President, as you can no doubt plainly see, Simon is a very precocious twelve-year-old. Unfortunately, the precociousness which makes him an indispensable assistant and student also makes him a most difficult young man – and a young man who always seems to know when I'm talking about him. But please, if I may ask you to be patient with him…scarcely a year has passed since the accident."

            "Accident?" Shinra blinked. "What accident?"

            Gast glanced anxiously over his shoulder before answering the president's question. "Yes. His parents and elder sister, from what I understand, were all on a research expedition near Icicle Inn when there was an accident…Simon won't talk about the details, and the counselors know little more than I do. But I know it was bad. The researchers who found him two days after the fact say he looked a fright; pale, sickly, half-frozen from the cold and starvation. He didn't speak to us for three weeks afterwards and then he mainly said…unrepeatable things. He's been with me ever since, and I can assure you he is a wonderful young man and a brilliant researcher."

            "Uh-huh," No doubt about it, he could definitely feel his headache coming on now. "Gerald, if I may be blunt…why did you tell me this story?"

            "I'd hoped, sir, that it would provide an explanation for Simon's behavior."

            "I'll say it does," Palmer sniffed. As both men turned to him in surprise he continued. "Poor little kid!" Palmer whimpered. "To have to deal with something as bad as that…and when he's so young, too!" His face became serious for a moment. "Hey…I bet you anything he was there for the whole thing, too."

            "Really?" Interested, Gast stepped closer to the weeping engineer. "How can you tell?" When Palmer only looked at him and flushed with embarrassment, Gast slid a reassuring hand onto his shoulder. "Please, Mr. Palmer, don't be afraid. I'm not going to bite if I don't agree with your analysis." He laughed gently. "Actually, I'd be more willing to bite myself for not realizing the problem sooner if I do agree with you. If you have any information to volunteer…"

            "It's just a hunch I got," Palmer said softly. "It's that look in his eye, Dr. Gast. That look where he won't look you right in the face. Or if he does, he turns right away like he wants to ignore you. But he looks so sad under that frown…sad like I was once." He shook his head and tried to force a smile to his lips. "Hey, hey! But that was a long time ago, huh?" The smile vanished and he looked down again. "I guess I just think I know what he saw because…I saw some pretty bad things myself when I was his age. And when I looked in the mirror, I looked just like he does." This time he managed a genuine smile as he clamped his hand onto Gast's shoulder. "Hey, will you do me a huuuge favor? Tell him he doesn't have to buy me any more doughnuts, okay? I prolly eat enough of 'em as it is. In fact, I should be the one giving him doughnuts!"

            "That's very kind of you, Mr. Palmer. But it's hardly necessary."

            "No, really. Is it okay if I get him a box sometime? Like maybe tomorrow? Or tonight even? 'Cause every kid should get a box of doughnuts sometime! More so if it's after they have to deal with something hard."

            "Normally I don't allow him to eat anything refined," nonetheless Gast was smiling. "But in this case, I think I'll make an exception. Just call me when you've sent the doughnuts, Mr. Palmer."

            "Really?" Palmer beamed. "Hey, that's great! Really great of you, Professor Gast! I'll send him a big box of them tonight, you wait and see!"

            "Yes, how very generous of you," Shinra said. Really, had everyone on this platform forgotten his existence? Had someone just declared today the annual 'Ignore President Shinra day? "Palmer? Do us a favor and go play somewhere else. Please? The grown-ups would like to talk now."

            "Oh," the young engineer gave them both a thoroughly apologetic look. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt anything. Sure, yeah. Hey, I'll just go right over here, okay?"

            "Okay. A little further, Palmer. Yes. A little further." Such a pity there was no railing. Watching Palmer fall to his death would quite possibly be the highlight of his day, if not his first year as president. "No, Palmer. Over by the railing."

            "Oh, sorry." Palmer scurried over to the furthest corner of the scaffolding. "Hey, hey! President Shinraaaa! Is this far enough?"

            Resisting the urge to order Palmer to jump or at least to beat himself unconscious against the railing, President Shinra nodded. "Yes, that's fine. Now just stay there until it's time for the rest of the engineers to walk back, alright?" With a heavy sigh he turned back to Gast. "Do forgive Matthew, Gerald. You have your children to cope with and sadly, I have mine."

            "He seems like a very nice person," Gast said as he turned back to the President. "But I'm afraid I don't know what he does here."

            "Believe me, neither do I," Yes, his headache had now just officially gone from 'excruciating' to 'hand me a gun, please'. "Gerald, do you happen to have some aspirin on you?"

            "In my wallet, yes."

            "Excellent. Why don't you fish it out and I'll tell you the whole story about the man. The good, the bad and the downright stupid and annoying. Or the stupid and annoying at least. It's difficult to say when ninety-nine percent of his actions fall under that category."

***

            For awhile, Palmer strained to hear the conversation going on behind him. But when he heard the words "Palmer", "favor for his old man", and "biggest jackass in the city", his face fell and he decided he would be much happier ignoring it altogether. Thankfully it seemed not all of his doughnuts had been ruined. Three powdered sugars hadn't fallen out of the box after all. So Palmer munched on one of these as he pulled his telescope out.

            "Hey, Copernicus," he said as he focused it on the horizon. "I know you're used to looking at the stars and stuff, but if you don't mind focusing on the horizon for a bit, I'd really be happy. I wanna take a look at all the details on this city." He grinned and patted the telescope's side lovingly as Midgar's central tower jumped into focus. "Gee, thanks a lot, old buddy. I definitely owe you one!" 

            Palmer spent the next few minutes gazing at the tower, the supports and the different sectors. It really was amazing, he decided. And very much beyond him. From the thrust of the central tower to the radiating sectors, he had no idea how it was all done. This saddened him greatly.

            How am I ever gonna learn how to do a job like this when for my whole life, I've been so busy looking at the stars and taking care of Mom… his reverie broke off at the sound of shouting from below. "Huh?" Palmer quickly swung his telescope downwards, adjusting its focus as he went. Had someone fallen off the overlook? Was someone hurt? He sighed in relief at the lack of broken or injured bodies on the ground below. But the people he did see made him pause curiously. Until now, Palmer hadn't noticed anyone working beneath them. So he was ostensibly surprised at the sight of several hundred men and women in grey uniforms drilling, hammering, welding and hauling rubble away in enormous wheelbarrows. The work looked really hard and painful. "Heck," Palmer whistled. "And I thought my job was hard!" He shook his head in amazement and continued watching the workers drill and carry, all the while turning the focus knob on his telescope in hopes of a better view. At last he managed to get a good enough view to read the patch on one worker's arm.

            "Shinra Inc. Labor Division," he read aloud. "Labor division? Huh. I didn't know we had one of those. And what's that funny number under the logo? 12113? What's that supposed to mean?"

            "It means that they are prison labor, Palmer."

            Palmer gasped and nearly dropped his telescope. "Hey, hey!" He laughed nervously as he turned to face the President. "Didn't see you there, boss! Sorry!"

            "Don't call me boss," Shinra gripped the railing and stared down at the workers below.

            "Oh, sorry boss. Unh. President Shinra, sir. Hey, what do you mean, they're prison labor?"

            "Palmer," Shinra looked over at the wide-eyed engineer with unhidden and unabashed loathing. "This is a fairly difficult concept to grasp now, so just try and follow along as well as you can, alright? Now, when I say that someone is prison labor, I'm basically saying that he's a prisoner. In this case, a prisoner from Coral Prison. Do you understand?"

            Palmer winced. "Yeah, I know what a prisoner is," he said meekly. "I guess what I meant was…why are they working down there?"

            "Because we need to build a city and they are the most cost-effective work force available."

            "Cost-effective?"

"Palmer, I make no pretense at being able or even willing to fully comprehend how things work in that Happy Palmer Land inside your head, but in the real world cities don't just spring out of the ground like potatoes because some engineers and architects designed them. They need people to build them, wire them, put their parts together."

"I know all that," Palmer said softly. "What I meant was...why not just hire some guys from Kalm, or Junon? Heck, I bet my Father'd be happy to send some people over to work."

"Some people?" Shinra wondered if the pill had yet been invented that could ease a Palmer-induced headache. "Palmer, I know it's difficult, but please try and use your brain here. Just once? For me?" Midgar is a reaaaaallly big city, okay? Therefore it's a reaaalllly big job. So big that some guys from Kalm couldn't get it done in a thousand-million years. Not even if they were assisted by the electrician who fixed the wiring at your Daddy's villa in Costa del Sol last Summer. Do you understand? Or would I have better luck explaining this to the wall?"

"No, I understand," Palmer blushed anxiously as he tried to find the right words. "I guess all I'm saying is…"

"That our diminutive friend Professor Hojo would make a better engineer half asleep and suffering from a perpetual case of PMS? Excellent observation, Palmer! Keep that up and you might just get a raise in forty-seven years or so." He patted Palmer's arm patronizingly. "I'll go tell Professor Gast right now that we've just found an ideal replacement for you! Thank you so very much!" He turned and began walking away from the railing.

"Um…you're welcome, I guess…hey, that was a joke, right?" Palmer called after him.

President Shinra stopped and shook his head. "Yes, Palmer. Keep telling yourself that. Everything in this world is a joke. You, me, Gast's diaper-wearing assistant. The fact that I run a company that pays morons like you to sit in an office playing with dolls, eating doughnuts and spinning on the finger shoved perpetually up! Your! Ass! Now kindly do me a favor! Stick a doughnut in your mouth, close it, and keep it closed FOR THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!"

Palmer winced and bowed his head, nodding meekly.

"Good." Shinra straightened his tie and looked around at the engineers who were now staring curiously in his and Palmer's direction. Wonderful. Could this day possibly get any worse? He'd barely asked himself that question when someone below them shouted.

"Get the hell back to work you damned, good-for-nothing sons-a-bitches!"

Wonderful. Making a mental note to never, ever even think about what else could possibly go wrong on a bad day like this, Shinra hurried back to the railing. He was quickly joined by some of the engineers. They all arrived just in time to see a tall, burly young man cursing out three smaller men. He had short dark hair, a moustache, a goatee and an angry purple-red scar running from his right eyebrow to his cheekbone. It looked fresh, and the other prisoners seemed absolutely terrified of him.

"What the hell d'you think you're doin', anyhow?" the prisoner growled, poking one of them in the chest confrontationally. "Whose space is this, anyway?" The cowed prisoner opened his mouth to reply, but the burly man cut him off with a fierce sweep of his hand. "I can't HEAR you!"

"Y—yours, Mr. Heidegger, sir!"

"Oh, that's so, huh? Alright, then, Jackson. What were you and your buddies thinkin', trying to set up camp for lunch right in the middle of it? Well?!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Heidegger, sir! It won't happen again!"

"Gyahahaha! You see that it don't, Jackson! Or findin' a space for your mess'll be the last thing on you and your buddies' minds. Now clear on outta here and I might just forget the whole thing."

"Yes, M—Mr. Heidegger, sir." Jackson and his crew bowed and scraped away as quickly as possible. But Heidegger seemed to have other ideas.

"And another thing. Clean up yer own damn mess next time!" Heidegger growled as he swung a punch for Jackson's head.

On the scaffolding above them, Palmer shrieked and flinched as Heidegger's fist barreled for the frail man's forehead. And as he covered his eyes, the telescope slipped from his fingers and plummeted to the ground below. "Oh no! Copernicus!" Palmer shrieked. He made a grab for the telescope, but it was too late. The telescope had already landed lens-down in a pile of dirt. The prisoners all turned at the sound and four mouths opened in surprise before four heads turned up to look at the pale and trembling engineer.

Palmer's hands continued to weakly kneed the air as he stared helplessly down at his telescope. Despite the small, choked whimpers coming from his mouth no on said a word. Heidegger was the first to speak or move. With a cruel smirk upwards at the helpless Palmer, he calmly strode over to the dirt pile and roughly pulled the telescope from it. "Well, well, well. Lookie what we got here, boys! Gyahahaha!" Heidegger twirled the telescope over his head. "Seems one 'a them Shinra kids dropped a toy for us! Whaddya say? Wanna play with it some?"

Everyone on the scaffold was surprised when Palmer found his voice. Most of all Palmer himself. "Please, don't do that! Don't do that!" the hapless engineer cried. "Copernicus…hey, he's a real delicate piece of equipment! He's not made to be thrown or swung around like that!"

"Oh no?" Heidegger shot the engineer such a fierce glare that the young man eeped and backed up quickly, stepping directly on Shinra's toes. "Gyahaha! Well it don't look like no piece of delicate equipment to me, buddy. What's it look like to you, boys?"

"A frisbee!"

"A jump rope!"

"A…stick throwing…thing…yeah…"

"Gyahaha! Sorry, boy. 'Fraid the majority's spoke on it. Looks like we're gonna play a game of stick-throwin'-thing to end our break today, boys!"

"No! You can't! Please don't do that! Please!" Palmer screamed. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing. "You'll break him! You'll break him if you do that! You big bullies! He never did anything to you! Never! Never!"

Heidegger squinted sourly up at the panicking man. His injured eye and the blinding afternoon sun made it difficult to see the speaker clearly. Nevertheless, he could make out enough to know that the telescope's owner was a frail little wimp. And one he would immensely enjoy teaching a lesson. And what the hell was up with naming a telescope and calling it a 'he', anyway?! "You want your frisbee back you can come down an' get it!" He shouted up at the scaffolding.

"Uh, boss?" Heidegger pivoted angrily to find Jackson hesitantly tapping him on the shoulder. "It's been a fun game and all, but…"

"Well? Ya gots somethin' to say, spit it out!"

"But he's a Shinra employee, sir. It's one thing to harass the guards…they expect that. But an actual member of Shinra brass?"

Heidegger dismissed the thought with a harsh laugh. "Gyahahahahaahahaaaa! Ya crack me up sometimes, Jackson. Ya really do. Shinra knows what side his bread's buttered, and 'slong as we stop short 'a killin' someone, he ain't gonna lift a hand to us. Otherwise, how's he gonna get his precious city rebuilt, huh?" Turning to the scaffold again, Heidegger shouted. "Yeah. You heard us, pretty boy. You want your Copernicus-whatsit back, you come down and gets it."

"But…" Palmer whimpered. "But I'll miss lunch…"

"Gyahaha! In five minutes we'll be eatin' this thing of yours for lunch!" Heidegger laughed as he tossed the telescope to Jackson. "So, what's it gonna be, kid?"

Whimpering, Palmer turned to Shinra (who was still scowling and massaging his injured toes). "President Shinra, please…can someone go down there and get Copernicus for me? Please?"

Unfortunately for Palmer, Shinra's mood had passed from foul to murderous in the span of the last three minutes. "Palmer, this is out of my hands. Your telescope isn't company property, and as such it is not my responsibility to recover it for you. If you want it, you go down and get it."

"But…but they're so big and…"

"And you'll have Shinra security there if they try anything!" Shinra snapped. "Now get your ass down there if you want that thing. Unless you'd like me to kick it over the railing for you with the one part of my body you haven't damaged today?!"

Palmer shook his head and whimpered sadly. "Okay, okay…I'll go get it, sir. Just don't yell at me. Please?"

"Palmer, at this point in time, I really don't give a damn." The president turned to the engineers and waved his hand. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen. If there are no more questions, why don't we all go to lunch now? In the Oak Room? My treat?"

The engineers seemed to forget the trauma of the afternoon at the prospect of eating in the executive cafeteria.  One by one they filed past Palmer, chattering and laughing happily. For his part, President Shinra glared at the engineer and ordered two of the company's omnipresent soldiers to take Palmer down to the work area to retrieve his telescope. Realizing he had little choice in the matter if he ever wanted to see his Copernicus again, Palmer reluctantly followed them into the elevator. On the way down, he prayed he would make it back in one piece.

***

Heidegger quirked an eyebrow as the elevator doors opened with a pneumatic hiss. He couldn't contain his laughter at the sight of the man who stumbled from the car like a frightened little foal. So this was the owner of the telescope, eh? He was gangly, thin as a rail, two heads shorter and at least seventy pounds lighter, and his messy straw-colored hair and wide, shocked blue eyes made him look even more innocent, fragile and scared. Oh, yes. Tormenting this one would be fun. And judging by their laughter, the men behind him thought so, too.

"So, you're the guy who names telescopes," Heidegger chuckled as he hefted Copernicus into his hands. "Gyahaha! Came lookin' for this one, huh?"

Palmer swallowed anxiously and nodded as he clutched his box of doughnuts even closer for support. Heidegger nodded.

"And why d'ya think I should give it to you, eh?" When Palmer remained silent, he sneered and laughed again. "Gyahaha! 'S the matter, boy? Cat got yer tongue?"

"No…" Palmer swallowed again. "Well, I'm here now…so….yeah. Can I have him back now, please?" He held out his hand shakily for the instrument, but Heidegger had other ideas. Grinning dangerously at Palmer, he tossed the telescope to Jackson again, if only to watch the engineer's face pale in terror.

"Hey, don't do that! He's not a toy, you know!" Palmer was grateful for the security behind him. Without them, he felt as if he would pass out on the spot. Instead, he felt brave enough to one hand into a fist in what he hoped passed as a menacing manner.        

Heidegger noted the attempt soberly as he retrieved the telescope from Jackson. "An' why the hell should I give it back, huh? You think I owe a god damned thing to Shinra, kid?" He smirked as the fist shook and unballed itself.

"No," Palmer said softly. "No, I don't think you do. Hey…you're name's Heidegger, right? Mr.  Heidegger?"

Mister Heidegger. "Heh. No one but these assholes calls me Mr. anything, Palmer." Nevertheless, it was both unnerving and…somehow pleasing to be called 'Mister' by a superior. So Heidegger loosened his grip on the telescope. "Only fair that I tell you my name, I reckon. Name's Klaus Heidegger."

"It's nice to m—meet you, Mr. Heidegger." Remembering his manners then, Palmer shakily held the doughnut box out to him. "Hey, would you like a doughnut? I dropped some of them on the floor awhile ago, but those were just the glazed ones. The powdered sugars and the crumbly ones should still be okay."

This time both of Heidegger's eyebrows shot upwards. "Would I like a doughnut?" he repeated.

"Yeah!" Palmer managed a genuine smile that time. "'Cause they always make me feel better when I'm down! Doughnuts are the best things in the whole world, I think. Well, except for telescopes. And rockets! Yeah! Rockets are the best things ever! Hey, go on and have one? Please? They have to be better than what you're fed, right?"

"How the hell old *is* he," Jackson muttered. "Eight and a half?" Heidegger promptly elbowed him in the ribs and turned back to Palmer, who was now stuffing a doughnut into his face.

"Mhh! Ig's goog! Wand one, Mr. Heidegger?" He held the box out again as he swallowed. "Ahhh! That really hit the spot! I'm Matthew Palmer, by the way!" He balanced the doughnut box against a hip and shot his hand forward. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Heidegger!"

The prisoner rolled his eyes. "Dammit, stop with the 'Mister' shit, wouldja? 'S creepin' me out awful! Just Heidegger. Or Klaus if ya want." Matthew Palmer, eh?"

"Just Matt, please!" Palmer said. "Yeah, I'm an engineer now, but someday I hope I'll be an astronaut! Hey, speaking of space, did you know they were thinking of naming a comet Heidegger? Heidegger. Heidegger. I like that name. It's really strong."

Ahh, so that was why the name had sounded familiar. Heidegger chuckled. "Matt Palmer, eh? So you're that stupid engineer that everyone hates." The men behind him twittered until Heidegger's glare silenced them.

Palmer looked stunned. How had Heidegger known that? But he tried to laugh it off cheerfully. "Yes, I guess I am," he beamed. "But, hey, it doesn't matter if no one likes me. 'Cause I like myself! Oh, by the way? The ones with the sprinkles are the best! So I'd start with those."

Heidegger couldn't believe he was hearing this. "Palmer, look," he said. "I got your telescope. I'm libel to smash it on the ground or give it to Tommy here to throw around some, and all you can talk about is space and doughnuts?" Palmer looked at him innocently and nodded, hoping to appease the prisoner with laugher instead of force in the form of the two security guards. "Heh. Next thing you'll be tellin' me the rings of Saturn's made out of doughnuts!" This time he and his men all shared a hearty laugh.

Palmer laughed too. "Hahaha! That's really funny! Man, don't I wish they were! You know, when I was a little boy I actually made the whole solar system out of cakes? Ahh, anyway they, the real planets, they're actually made out of ice, and some rock particles and they're thought to have been formed after…I'm not boring you, I hope." Palmer shifted nervously. "People say I talk too much, especially about space." He shot Heidegger another grin. "But I just can't help it! I think I was a quasar in a former life! Or maybe a comet! Tra la la!"

 Both of Heidegger's eyebrows raised again. "Tra-LA-la?" he repeated incredulously. "What the hell kinda fag code is that?"

Palmer looked hurt. "Um…it's not a code at all," he said softly. "I just say that sometimes..." he smiled helplessly. "See, I'm not such a great talker. Especially around people I've just met."

"That so?" Heidegger sneered. "Listen, Matt Palmer. My boys and me, we don't give a good god damn about space or comets or doughnuts or whatever."

"Oh…okay," Palmer gave them his most disarming look. "If I can have Copernicus back now, I promise I'll go away and never, ever talk to you about space or doughnuts again!"

"Fine," Heidegger yawned. Truth be told, he was getting tired of this stupid little game. "Take the damn thing." And he shoved the telescope back into Palmer's waiting hands.

"Ohh!" the engineer whispered as he clutched the telescope to his chest. "Thank you, Mr. Heidegger! Hey, thanks a lot!"

"Just Klaus, dammit!" the prisoner shouted. "God, I love how you Shinra assholes are all so damned hard of hearing! Hey!" He shouted as the other prisoners began walking away. "The hell you assholes goin'?"

"The whistle just blew, Mr. Heidegger."

"Fuck the whistle," but Heidegger shrugged. "Heh. Duty calls or somethin'. I'd say it was nice talkin' to you, Matt Palmer. But it wasn't, and my Mama hates a liar. So goodbye."

"Wait a second," Palmer looked at the guards helplessly. "Hey…can he and I talk for a bit longer, please?"

"Five minutes," the guard said impassively. But truly he was enjoying the human comedy.

"No, I will not stay for five minutes or five seconds!"  Heidegger snarled as he rounded on Palmer and the guards. "And you can put those damn mako guns down, dammit! I just wanna talk to the kid!" He gave Palmer a menacing scowl and put his hands on his hips. "Listen, Mister. I don't give a fuck who you are, or what you think you do in this company, but I'm bein' forced, paid, whatever to work on a city here. Not to eat doughnuts an' listen to your go on about outer space like you was a teacher givin' a lecture. I don't care what Shinra thinks, but me an' these people down here…we're not here to keep you an' yours entertained, got it?"

"N-no, of course not," Palmer stammered. But something about the man's words troubled him. "Hey, you said you were forced to work on this city…hey, what did you mean by that?"

"Yeah, play the innocent," Heidegger snapped. "Or don't a fancy-pants engineer like you know they're buildin' this city with slave labor? Yep. That's right. Pay us barely five gil a day, but 's better 'n rotting away at Coral, I guess. And put that damn gun down, Mister! The man asked a question an' I was jest answerin' it!"

"No, I didn't know that," Heidegger snapped his head around at Palmer's soft words. "I didn't know that's how they were building this city."

"Bullshit you didn't! You said you were an engineer!"

Palmer shook his head. "That's what they call me, but that doesn't mean I do the work. Drafting, reports…I don't know how to do any of it."

Heidegger chuckled. "Oh no? So how'd a loser like you get into Shinra in the first place, then?"

"My father."

"You're helpin' him out?"

"Kind of," Palmer stared down at his feet. "He wants me here, and so he makes sure I stay, even if I don't have any clue what's going on." He sighed sadly. "You're right, you know. I'm not really cut out to be an engineer at all." He looked up then, face alive with the thought. "I'd rather just fly a rocket ship!"

"Yeah, I reckon you would, Space Cadet."

Palmer's expression fell. But not at Heidegger's light insult. "They really keep you as slaves?" he asked again.

Heidegger shrugged. "You  don't believe me, take a look 'round. You think any of us like workin' in a place like this? Dust an' sand everywhere, paint and sparks fallin' on you night 'n' day."

"Really?"

"Yep. You should see where we sleep if you think this's bad."

"Oh," Palmer's eyes widened as he took in the work space for the first time. "Yeah, just look at those exposed wires and stuff! This place can't be safe!"

"That's the smartest thing you said all day." Heidegger bowed stiffly to the engineer. "Now, you'll excuse me but I gotta get back to work 'fore they notice I'm gone an' dock my pay. Not that it matters or anything, but if I gotta work for 'em, then I want every last gil."

"Wait! You said they made you work for us…them, I mean. But if you're being paid?"

Heidegger laughed bitterly. "Five gil ain't even close to a tenth a the money you see in a day, Matt. And parents or no parents, 'least you didn't come to work on pain of being beat up or losin' your life. Remember that."

Palmer grabbed him by the sleeve as he tried to leave again. The action surprised both men completely. Palmer because he didn't know what had motivated him to do such a thing, and Heidegger because…

'Cause it's been ten minutes and he's still talkin' to me. "Alright, kid," he said firmly. "You wanna talk, fine. What'dya wanna say?"

"I wanna know…I mean, may I ask you somethin', Klaus?"

"If you let go of my shirt, I might consider it." Nevertheless, Heidegger was touched by the question. "You know, usually you Shinra don't ask before askin' me anything. You just bark it in my face."

"Yeah," Palmer said sympathetically. "They do that a lot here, don't they? Hey, you seem like a real intelligent man, Klaus…and a pretty decent one, too. So how did you end up in a place like this?" When Heidegger's face returned to its usual stony expression, Palmer cowered behind his doughnut box. "I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me."

Contrary to Palmer's fear, however, Heidegger wasn't angry. In fact, he felt he hadn't been this surprised in quite some time. No one, not even the other prisoners, had ever bothered to ask him a question like this. Perhaps that was why it took him so long to answer. "….I was born here," he admitted at last, in a low voice that could have been mistaken for a breath.

Palmer looked as if he'd just been slapped across the face. Slowly he raised a hand to his mouth, not quite able to believe what he'd just heard. "Oh, how awful for you," he whispered at last. "And you must be…."

"Twenty," Heidegger said roughly. "Twenty last October."

"But…in all that time, no one ever…no one ever knew?"

He shrugged as if the years didn't matter. "Why should it matter to anyone, huh? I started my share of shit 'round Coral. Got out a few times, good behavior and the like. Taught myself the stuff I needed to know, and none of it ever worked." He kicked a pebble away coarsely. "Always ended up back there again. No matter what, no matter how. An' yer still holdin' my sleeve, by the by."

Thoroughly embarrassed, Palmer shakily released Heidegger's sleeve. He didn't know what to say for quite sometime. But when he did, everyone – Heidegger, the guards and himself was surprised at the vehemence with which he spoke. "Klaus, I promise you…I promise you that Mayor Domino will hear of this."

"Huh?" Heidegger rubbed his hears. Was he going deaf, or had he honestly heard what he thought he had.

"Yes. And the Village elders of Coral will hear about this. And so will the prison warden! I'll write him day and night until he listens! And President Shinra will hear about this, too!"

Palmer was insane. Yes, that had to be it. "And what makes ya think that'll do a damn bit of good?" Heidegger shrugged. "And anyway, so what if it does? So I get out. Good for me. But where does that leave all the rest of these people?" He gestured at the other prisoners. "Nowhere, that's where. And I'll tell ya why, Matt. 'Cause they won't have no one to speak for 'em then."

"But – but it's wrong! And unfair!" Palmer whispered. "You didn't do anything and –"

"Unfair? Yeah, maybe. But if I don't deserve to be here, then neither do they!"

And no one wants to be here. Hell, half these people ain't even fit to work! Like over there," he gestured at an old man pushing a cart down a small incline. "You see that? That's Ol' Scott. Been in prison since I was born, got a bad back an' shoulder. Says he was thrown in here fer not bowin' for one of the old Shinra's during a parade once. An' that girl?'. He gestured to a teenager dragging a bundle of pipes. "That there's Milly. Tried ta beat up the soldiers who were beatin' her boyfriend silly. Guess they didn't like that none." He turned back to the engineer and shook his head sadly. "Point is, Matt? Most all of us are in here for a stupid reason. So why should I be so damn special, huh?"

Palmer then helped the situation entirely by whimpering. "Oh god, that's so sad….why hasn't anyone done something?"

Heidegger shrugged and stomped his long-forgotten cigarette out in the dist. "'Cause they're all pussies like you, ain't they? Well, been nice talkin' to ya, kid."

As the prisoner turned away a second time, Palmer felt something in him snap. In one instant, everything made sense. He and Heidegger…both of them had been born into something they didn't want, something that wouldn't let them go no matter how hard they struggled. "I bet you cry at night too, don't you?" he asked softly. And before Heidegger could turn to scoff at him, Palmer placed his telescope and the doughnut box on top of the dirt pile, threw his arms around that massive waist and rested his head softly against the prisoner's back. "I promise you, I'll do everything I can to stop this, Klaus," Palmer chuckled lightly. "Even if I am a pussy."

He. Was. Being. Hugged. Heidegger couldn't even squeak, even as the engineer released him and adjusted his yellow bow-tie calmly, as if the hug had never happened. It took Heidegger a moment to realize that they were both blushing.

"So," Palmer laughed nervously. "Hey, hey! I better let you get back to your work now, huh? But why don't you keep the doughnuts with you, huh? You may get hungry later, you know."

Heidegger nodded. "So. Um. I'll."

"Uh-hunh."

The two men stared at each other for a long moment before Heidegger managed to force a loud laugh from his throat. "Gyahahahahahahahahaaaaaa!"

"So, I'll see you later, then?" Palmer asked sheepishly.

Heidegger paused, mid laugh. "You'd come back here?" He wondered why the thought did not irritate him very much.

The engineer nodded empathetically. "Of course I would! And with more doughnuts."

"Aw," Heidegger smirked and lightly punched Palmer's shoulder. "Well, great. See ya then, I guess."

Palmer winced as he rubbed his shoulder. "Yeah, see you then." Then slowly, he turned to leave.

"Hey, Matt! Hey!" Heidegger held the telescope and doughnut box out to Palmer. "Forgettin' somethin'?"

"Ohh! Hey, hey! Of course!" Palmer cackled. "How stupid of me!" Gingerly he took the telescope from Heidegger. "Hey, you keep the doughnuts though, okay? Just dust 'em off and share them with your friends. I'll get plenty more where those came from!"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that."

"Well…'bye, Klaus." Palmer waved. "Lovely meeting you!"

Heidegger nodded. "Likewise." And as Palmer climbed into the elevator (stumbling as he turned to look back one last time), Heidegger shook his head.

Stupid kid. What the hell's he think he's gonna accomplish?

Nevertheless, Heidegger couldn't wipe the smile from his face for the rest of the long working day.