Pulling off Butterfly Wings
By
Artistic Suicide
Chapter Two
Death visited the city in the guise of blinding white snow. Reeve shivered as he opened his eyes, feeling Cait Sith purr as he shifted. Noticing that the fire in the grate had gone out, he pulled on a pair of slippers before dragging himself to the bathroom and stripping as quickly as he good so that he might forget the cold for a little while as he showered. Routines were comforting. Wincing as the cold water hit him, before the boiler spluttered into life, he allowed himself to rest his damp forehead against the wall of the shower, the shock of the cold water leaving a chill in him that could never be removed, no matter how much heat was applied later on.
Teeth chattering in the cold, voices in the darkness – O'Goddon'tletthemfindme – lights growing brighter –
Gasping as a chill struck him, he increased the amount of hot water, his hands shaking.
"It's over!" he whispered savagely, his fist thumping against the wall, even though he knew that it would never be over. They'd never leave him. Hot water continued to beat against his skin as he turned his back to the spray, one hand grabbing for the soap. Some people found baths reviving as their souls were cleansed under the hot water. At best, Reeve could only feel water. At worst, he could feel the rot; smell the stench of decaying flesh and his own blood. He could only feel the numbing fear young children should never experience, far worse than monsters under the bed or the bogey man in the closet.
Washing done, he crawled out of the shower feeling more exhausted than before as he shivered once more in the morning chill. Drying himself quickly, he put on his suit, straightened his tie and called Cait Sith, who walked casually up to him, a reproachful expression on it's intelligent face.
"Yes, yes. I know it's cold. Look, you can sit in my pocket, okay?" he asked, kneeling for it. Tilting its head as you to say "Oh yeah?" it lunged at his throat, nuzzling the thick scarf that had been draped there. Reeve laughed and allowed the diminutive creature to lie there, wrapped up tightly in the woolen garment. He ignored the elevator, jogged downstairs and exited the building.
The streets were frozen and he rolled his eyes in irritation as he felt his damp hair freezing to his forehead. Taking his usual route, he stopped at a takeaway shop, ordered his usual chicken curry and carried on to the Shinra Headquarters which was conveniently near by. Cait Sith mewed impatiently as it smelled the chicken but refused to leave its comfortable perch on his shoulders.
The secretary greeted him as he entered and he walked on, oblivious to the fact that her eyes followed him until he was out of sight. He finally entered his office and sighed in relief as the warm air enveloped him. Heaters were civilization! He and his companion sat as his desk as he opened the polystyrene container and fed Cait the chicken as he picked at the rice. He smiled slightly as a sense of peace came to him. Maybe it was sitting with a companion, maybe it was the food, but at last he good feel the cold diminish a little in his cozy office.
Scarlet's arm flung out to the opposite side of the bed, feeling only the coldness of the sheets. She hated this habit and had tried, many times, to rid herself of it but no matter what she did she'd always wake up with the expectation that someone, anyone, would be there. There never was. Either men would come to her, engage in the usual night-time activity and then leave. Either that or she would go to them, such as last night and then later they would insist that she leave, because they did not want their wives to find her or because they could not stand to look upon her and be reminded of their weaknesses, she could not tell. All that she knew was that death, taxes and waking up to an empty bed were the only certainties in her life. Maybe it was better than finding someone. Better than finding him.
Waking up and looking at his sleeping face, trying to determine his mood. Would he make her coffee and take her out for breakfast or would he beat her and accuse her of cheating on him, even though she knew that he had been with Alyssa the previous night. Would he have a hangover? Would he hold her? Would he push her away? Looking at his face, vulnerable in sleep, she could never be certain. He murmured and opened his eyes and then, with a pang of fear and dread, she knew.
Maybe it was better to be alone.
She leapt out of the sheets and, wrapping them loosely around her, went to stand on the balcony, relishing the cold. She stared absently on the frost on the glass doors and spent as much time as she could feeling the chill surround her, making her numb. Maybe someday she would be. Sighing, she walked back into her room and into the shower. It was going to be a crappy day.
What a crappy day, thought Reeve as he tried to make his way through the paperwork. The rumors about the resistance faction had finally become a fact and news reports about the destroyed reactor were repeated over and over on the news. President Shinra was furious, Heidegger was unapproachable in his wrath and Reeve was getting the worst of it. After all, the reactors were his responsibility.
"Mr. Reeve, sir?" his secretary cautiously opened the door and looked in, her pretty face set in a smile that can only come with blissful ignorance. He looked at her absent-mindedly, his fingers still typing on a laptop half-buried in papers.
"Yes, Genevieve?"
"Mr. Heidegger would like a word with you in his office," she said, biting her pink, glossy lip. "I don't mean to upset you, but he does not look happy, sir."
"That," said Reeve, laughing a little, despite his anxiety, "goes without saying in the current circumstances. I shall be with him directly."
"Miss Scarlet would also like to see you, sir," the secretary continued, giving him an ambiguous smile. Reeve sighed and let his head fall to his hands.
"Will I ever get some peace? Oh well. Thank you, Genevieve." He looked at his watch. "It's six oh clock, Genevieve. You should start getting home," he said, his voice bored. She nodded her head and left to go pack up her things.
Reeve stood up and walked briskly through the building, not wanting to annoy Heidegger even more. He and Reeve had issues that would never be resolved and Reeve avoided him like the plague, if he could.
He knocked and then entered Heidegger's office. Unlike Reeve's it had very little paperwork. This might have made Reeve feel inferior but he had recently discovered that Heidegger merely handed the work to the people under him. Reeve sometimes wished that he could do that but knew that he could not afford to have any errors in his blueprints and calculations.
"Evening, Heidegger. What do you need from me?" he asked coldly.
"What I need," snapped Heidegger, his face red, his breathing heavy, "is to know what the fuck happened in the reactor! It's your responsibility!"
"Actually," said Reeve apathetically, "Security is your responsibility. The reactors were in perfect condition. What was wrong, was that they were very poorly guarded. I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to place the blame on me."
For such a heavy man, Heidegger moved quickly. In a split second, Reeve was lying crumpled on the floor, his lip bleeding heavily, his teeth stained crimson with his own blood. He spat and stood up slowly, wiping his jaw.
"Don't think," snarled Reeve, his voice cool but laced with menace, "that you can do that to me. I'm not scared of you anymore, Heidegger. Things have changed and if you ever touch me again, you will wish that you were in hell because even that would be better compared to what I will do to you. Are we clear or do I need to use smaller words?"
Heidegger growled and moved towards the smaller man but Reeve was ready and his arm moved at a dizzying speed, ramming Heidegger in the solar plexus whilst his knee slammed into Heidegger's gut. Reeve left the man choking on his own vomit and made his way to Scarlet's office.
I'm not scared of you anymore, Heidegger...times really have changed. I'm not a little boy anymore.
He could hear her before he entered the room, typing rapidly and muttering under her breath. He walked in, unnoticed and almost smiled at the sight. She was slouched in her desk, her hair haphazard due to running her fingers through it out of frustration. Her make-up had disappeared and her high heels had been kicked halfway across the room. She was sitting cross-legged in her chair, one hand supporting her head, the other typing. And, horror upon horrors, she was wearing glasses! He could never, in his wildest dreams, have imagined her with glasses but truth be told, they didn't look half bad. Plain glasses with silver rims, they gave her an intelligent, professional air that her stiletto heels and crimson nails never could. In that moment, he could almost see her as a human being.
She looked up, startled, when he said her name and then gave him a tired smile which then turned into an incredulous frown when she potted his split lip.
"What the hell happened to you?" she asked, hastily crossing her legs and looking for her shoes before she saw them sitting in the corner of her office.
"Office accident," said Reeve, which he felt was pretty much the truth. She nodded absent mindedly before remembering why she'd called him.
"Oh, yes. I'd like to see the security camera tape if you have it and I need to know how much the damage has cost us, the death toll and I'd like blueprints of the other remaining reactors as soon as possible, please," she told him, her voice not its usual sultry purr, but the sharp, strained voice of an overworked employee. She ran her hand through her hair once more. "It has not been a good day," she murmured and was surprised when he chuckled.
"You can say that again," he answered and then, as if some cruel deity wished to ruin him utterly – "Would you like to grab a coffee?"
She started, and gave him a look of pure, unadulterated disbelief. "Looking like this?" she asked, gesturing towards her face. Reeve smiled like a madman.
"Where's we're going, it doesn't really matter," he said. Her eyes narrowed slightly and then she nodded, loosening her hair before tying it back in an ordinary ponytail and removing her glasses. She looked about four years younger.
"Well, since I don't have a spare outfit to change into," she said, giving him an impish grin, "I'm ready when you are."
This time they took Reeve's car because he still didn't think that he could trust her to drive in the dark. In fact, this choice seemed to ease the awkward silences a little, although the conversation was not much of an improvement.
"Reeve! You drive like an old woman! Give the accelerator a little nudge, can't you?"
"I'm driving at the correct speed limit, Scarlet!"
"Come one! All the other cars passes you three years ago! Where did you learn to drive? Did your eighty-year old grandma teach you?"
"Just because you like breaking the rules of the road into tiny little pieces-"
Fortunately they arrived at the coffee house before Reeve's sanity shattered. Scarlet looked at the name of the place skeptically.
"Joe's Coffee Shoppe," she drawled. "You sure?"
"It's a very good place," argued Reeve and the two of them stepped inside.
It was warm inside, with cozy booths and cheerful lighting. Many other couples were there and at the back of the quaint little shop a woman was holding a poetry reading although the darkly dressed Goths that surrounded her didn't fit in very well with their surroundings.
The two co-workers sat down and the owner came to take their order.
"One cappuccino and one hazel nut coffee please, Hank" Reeve said and the man grinned and walked off.
"Hank?" asked Scarlet. "Shouldn't it be Joe?"
"His father," explained Reeve. "Joe died seven months ago."
Scarlet nodded and Reeve noticed that no sadness was shown, no sympathy for Hank. Just acceptance of the facts. Still, wasn't he like that too? The deaths that had occurred after the reactor's explosion were terrible indeed but did he actually grieve for the hundred – thousands? – that had died? All he did was make sure that the plans for a new reactor were ready and start to calculate how much it would be to rebuild the section of the city that was destroyed. It was, after all, his job. Heidegger didn't waste time mourning for the dead. He worked out how to capture the resistance. Scarlet wanted to know how to improve the defenses and Hojo…Hojo was too absorbed in pulling apart the fabric of the Universe to bother about a little explosion. They were all just machines, in the end, he supposed. Creations that could no longer feel.
Their drinks were placed in front of them and for a while they sat in silence, the steam from his cappuccino caressing Reeve's cheeks. Eventually he looked up and asked the first thing that came into his mind.
"Is your name really Scarlet?" he asked. She laughed, despite her confusion.
"Is your name really Reeve?" she asked. He grinned.
"Actually, it is. I know that that might be hard to accept but I don't use pseudonyms."
"Okay, but is Reeve your first or last name? I just can tell!" she continued, relishing the fact that she'd finally gotten him to loosen up a little. It was strange, she thought, that flirtation would not seduce him, but a sense of humor and merely treating him as an equal could cause him to relax.
"It's a secret. I'll only tell you if you tell me your real name," Reeve answered. She pretended to think, tapping a nail against her chin.
"I'll tell you my first name if you tell me yours," she replied. Reeve grinned and took another sip of coffee, surprised that he was enjoying himself, surprised that he was even here with her, drinking coffee and talking as if they had known each other for a long time. Which they had, he realized. He'd known her for four years! How old was she anyway?
"Okay," he said, "but you go first."
"Fine," she sighed in mock exasperation. "Scarlet is a false name. My real name…is Vivienne."
Reeve nodded. "Vivienne. That's a lovely name. Why did you change it?"
"Uh uh. You now. What's your first name?"
"Ok, I'll tell you, but you have to understand that this is hard for me," answered Reeve and she nodded in understanding.
"My name…is…Reeve," he said before she shrieked and kicked him viciously under the table. He laughed and accidentally spluttered into his coffee.
"Ok, ok," he laughed again. "My surname is Mantegna, happy?"
"No," she pouted. "Answer this then: how old are you?"
"Twenty-eight," he answered. "What about you?"
"Ugh, I'm twenty seven. I can't believe I'm younger than you! You look so young, Reeve!"
"Compliment or insult?"
"Insult, you creep! You are definitely paying for these drinks after what you did!"
Eventually they finished their coffee; Reeve paid for them (naturally) and drove Scarlet back to the Headquarters. He also got out to fetch his cat but turned around in surprise when Cait Sith mewled in the backseat.
"Nothing escapes you does it?" he asked in mock exasperation. He turned to Scarlet.
"Thank you…Vivienne, I had fun."
"So did I, Reeve. Could we…maybe do it again sometime?"
"Okay," answered Reeve. "That would be nice."
"Right."
"Okay."
"Goodnight Reeve," said Scarlet and leaned towards him. For a minute Reeve thought that she might try to kiss him, and was ready to repel her, when she took his hand and gently shook it. He turned to go.
"Oh, and Reeve?"
He turned around. "Yes?"
Her eyes were cold and haunted as she faced him. "Don't call me Vivienne. She died a long time ago." Without waiting for a reply, she walked back into the office.
AN: Well, I hope that this was okay. Experiencing some writer's block so I hope that the characters weren't too OOC. Still, they have to looses up sometime right? Well, please review…I'll give you a muffin, I swear!
