Author's Notes: Sorry to take so long to post. I had my reasons, believe me, but that's not very important right now. One note: a part of the ending of this story was loosely inspired by something Zahra wrote in her incredible story I Know What's Beneath the Snow Fields (www. exnihilio. com). I didn't even realize until I had finished the chapter. In her story, Zahra mused on a soul needing comfort and so do I.
I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed chapter 12. It was the most gratifying and humbling response I've ever had for something I've posted. I'm so glad that people are actually reading this... I can't communicate my joy appropriately. So, thank you, thank you, thank you, and forgive my tardiness. Detailed responses will follow. Thank you all!Psst: I just started my own livejournal at www . livejournal . com. Check it out! I'm listed as, surpris surpris, Tijuana Pirate.
Now, on with the show!
Salvation (13)
Despite Reno's ultimatum, Tseng did not rush off to 'fix' things with Elena. It would have been quite impossible. He had work to do and it was almost too easy to lose himself in it. Reviewing old files, cross-referencing various reports from Shinra's massive spy network, and writing careful, accurate, dispassionate accounts of so-and-so's unfortunate accident or Mr. and Mrs. Nobody's tragic passing, Tseng never noticed the sun set on his office.
He was snapped out of his efforts by a quiet knock at his door.
"Come in Rude," Tseng said.
The taller man walked into the office and waited unobtrusively until Tseng looked up from his notes.
"Yes?"
"It's eight o'clock. Good night Tseng."
The most minute of smiles twitched at Tseng's mouth. He'd always appreciated Rude's unique grasp of language.
"Good night Rude."
Rude nodded once and then added almost as an afterthought,
"Don't work too hard."
Without another word, he turned and left. Tseng leaned back in his chair and sighed.
He's right, a rogue thought whispered in his head. You work too hard... though that's not why you're still here, is it?
Tseng snorted and shook his head lightly, trying to clear his thoughts. He tried to read the latest intelligence report from the Gongaga area.
Coward...the voice whispered in the back of his mind. Tseng resolutely shut it out and kept working.
It was hard to focus. He was far more tired than he would admit to himself. His shoulder was aching softly and he rubbed it lightly.
Elena had... saved his life. She was a remarkable woman.
Involuntarily, the memory came again: him, standing over her, fear in her eyes.
Tseng hissed under his breath and pushed himself away from the desk. Don't lose your focus, a dead man whispered in the back of his mind.
Tseng winced and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes wearily.
"Elena, why couldn't you just let it be?"
---
Elena sat on her balcony with her knees drawn up to her chest. The air was chill but not unpleasantly cold. Tom had his tiny, warm, fuzzy body pressed against her thigh and Elena was patting him absently. She had come out to watch the sun set on the city and had remained to watch the moon gain control of the sky. Its huge white light seemed muted, as if its life was being devoured by the city that had swallowed the stars.
Elena had been thinking distractedly all night long. She hadn't set about it in any manner of organized process. She hadn't weighed the pros and cons of her situation, hadn't studied in detail the recent turns of her life, but her thoughts had undergone a subtle reorganization. Elena felt as if she were moving away from one point of her life into another. It was a reconstruction, a metamorphosis.
Watching the moon with wide brown eyes, Elena realized that she had finally reached a conclusion after hours of silent debate. She knew what she was going to say to Tseng.
---
There is an old story in Wutai about a village being terrorized by a horrible beast. After many brave men had lost their lives trying to defeat the creature, a delegation from the village decided to consult a witch-woman that lived in a nearby forest. She read her auguries and pronounced that either the entire village would be consumed by the monster to appease its voracious appetite or one man, proclaimed by Leviathan, would defeat the creature and inevitably lose his life in the conflict.
The villagers were overjoyed and begged the witch to tell them who their saviour was. The witch turned her blind eyes to the village chief and proclaimed that he alone could save his people and that he would surely die in the attempt. The chief accepted this gravely and the villagers returned to their homes to wait out the night.
The next morning, the villagers walked to their chief's house to bid their leader adieu only to realize that he had fled during the night.
That evening, the creature returned and slaughtered every single one of the villagers, man, woman, and child.
The moral of the story is two-fold. First, even great, respected, and powerful men can be weak. Second, not even the Gods can force a man to make the right choice. That path can only be walked by the man alone.
---
They were often there as well, at night and in the early morning.
Wutaian people believe that the souls of the brave dead soar across the sea to dwell with Lord Leviathan in Paradise.
They whisper that the souls of the unworthy - cowards, thieves, rapists, murderers, and traitors – are damned for all eternity.
---
Tseng was standing outside Elena's building. Reno's harsh words echoed in his head. Angry, bitter, hurt. He had a right to be.
She loves you.
Why?
Tseng stood immobile in front of Elena's apartment complex. He was at war with himself. A part of him wanted to leave this place. He could patch things up with Reno, he lied to himself. He didn't have to stay here. Another part of him, the one he still respected, held him firm. He could not tell which one was losing though.
"Tseng!" a familiar voice pulled him away from his inner struggle. Elena walked forwards cautiously.
"I was coming to see you," she explained awkwardly when he did not respond. She seemed as surprised as he was at their sudden meeting. It seemed to neither of them had had enough time to prepare themselves for this confrontation.
Tseng eyes took her in. The wind was teasing her hair and her brown eyes were looking at him questioningly. Unlike him, she was out of uniform, wearing only a pair of grey cotton slacks and a black hooded sweatshirt. Even now, she was beautiful.
"Will you... will you come in?" Elena asked cautiously. She tilted her head up slightly to see him better and the moonlight illuminated the fresh bruises on her cheeks. Something crumpled inside of him and he nodded numbly. Tseng allowed himself to be lead into the building.
---
As strange as it might sound, Tseng had never been inside Elena's apartment before. He had given her a ride home a few nights and had even stood in her doorway once or twice but he had never actually been inside.
For that reason, he was slightly hesitant about walking into the place. Elena, however, quickly encouraged him to do so. She led him into her kitchen and let him sit down at her table. Tseng did all of this without any visible reaction. Elena hovered beside the table for a moment.
"I was going to make a pot of tea. Would you like some?"
"Yes, thank you," Tseng said quietly.
Elena moved off to set the kettle to boil and Tseng took a moment to appreciate his surroundings.
The kitchen was painted in a light tan colour. The cupboards and table were made of oak. It was a modest but pleasant looking place.
From the kitchen, you could walk down two steps into the living room. The room was only separated from the kitchen by an oak railing, the architect obviously wishing for an open concept. Though it was dark in the living room, Tseng could make out the outline of a couch, a chair, a small coffee table and a wooden entertainment centre.
"It's not much, but it's home," Elena said, smiling softly as she brought over the tea. She leaned forward to pour Tseng a cup of tea and once again he was struck by the sudden shocking sight of her bruises.
"Thank you," Tseng said, taking his cup. He was quiet a moment.
"Elena," he began but then she held up a hand to forestall him. He was both surprised and oddly grateful that she didn't want him to speak.
"Tseng," Elena started but then she too paused as if not entirely sure how to begin. The apartment was quiet.
"I've been thinking," she said quietly. "I've been thinking for a long time and I realize now that I made a mistake. It was wrong of me to ask you... that."
"Elena-" Tseng said trying to interject but once again Elena quieted him.
"What I mean is, it was wrong of me to ask you about that when I was not prepared to talk about myself as well.
That made Tseng pause. He had nothing to say to that and so Elena continued speaking softly, starring at the cup of tea she held cradled in her hands.
"I know that as Turks we don't ask questions and I've always been grateful for that. It was reassuring to know that none of you would ever push me to talk about anything."
"But," Elena said, looking pointedly at Tseng, "I know now that I want to tell someone. I'm tired Tseng; tired of carrying my secrets all alone. Nobody knows the truth of any of it and it's hard for me. I thought I could go on the way I always had but I can't. So, I'm asking you if you'll listen to me."
For a moment, Tseng was quiet. The memory came again: black bruises against soft pale skin. Gods help him, what choice did he have? Not truly looking at Elena, Tseng spoke softly.
"I will listen."
Elena nodded slowly and swallowed. She took a moment to gather her thoughts.
"I think that my family was pretty well off when I was born. I don't remember too much of it but I'm sure we must've lived up here on the Plate.
When I was about three or four, another one of those wasting sicknesses passed through the slums. Normally, that sort of thing doesn't much bother the people up on the Plate but I guess my family was just really unlucky.
My mother died two weeks after the infection set in. There was nothing anyone could do.
My father was never the same man afterwards. He started drinking a lot. Eventually, I guess he lost his job because I remember moving out of our house into a small apartment. Even that didn't last.
Of course, there was only one place left for us to go after that.
I don't know how long I lived with my father down in the slums. It seems like a very long time. He was drinking all the time so we never had any money. God only knows how he got any of it. I basically just tried to stay away from him but I was just a kid."
Elena paused and swallowed harshly.
"I think it upset him that I looked so much like my mom. It was... pretty rough."
Elena paused again before continuing.
"I was so afraid of him, I never even thought of leaving. It all happened by accident one day...
We'd been living in some sort of abandoned two-story apartment complex. I think I was nine or ten. I'm not sure.
One day, my father he got... he got angry with me and I ran out. He chased me. I made it to the stairs but he grabbed me from behind and I spun away. I think... oh God, I think I might've pushed him because then he was falling and there was nothing I could do.
There was a woman in the hall and she just started screaming. And then she was screaming 'He's dead! He's dead!' and I just ran.
God, some nights I can still hear her..."
Elena stopped again and visibly shook herself before continuing.
"After that I was on my own. I fell in and out of the various kid gangs they have down in the slums. We were more like packs of scavenging animals than companions.
There was a time when I was travelling solo and I was squatting in Sector Seven. There was a woman there too. To this day, I don't know if she really was trying to be kind or if she was a recruiter or something but she told me that she knew someone who could hook me up with a job. A real job, the kind you got paid for. At least it would get me something to eat.
I had no idea what they wanted me to do the first time but you learn awful quick.
My pimp would take about eighty percent. I lived in a room with six other girls. Everyone would try and keep a piece for themselves but most of the girls were on something. I tried to stay clean but it was hard. Sometimes the johns would want to shoot up before so...
I have no idea how long I lived like that. Honestly, I have no idea. I think I might've been about seventeen when I sold to the Don. The really twisted thing is that it was the best thing that had even happened to me.
The Inn was... a society onto itself, I suppose. There were all sorts of hidden rules that you just ended up learning by osmosis. The consequences of not following them were, well, blatant. It was hard but it was so much better than what we had all come from. I suppose we were all... grateful.
Every one of us had our favourite clients. They'd come in just for us, their own special girls. We each had a sort of trick, a talent I suppose. There were all kinds of girls. Blondes, brunettes, but it was more than just that. We had virgins and girls that could act like virgins if you wanted them to. We had the bondage girls and the dom girls. Girls from every corner of the slums and so all the corners of the world. The Don was particularly fond of the wutaian girls. They were his favourites.
I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have told you that...
We didn't make any money, per say but we did get a place to sleep and somewhere to eat. Most of us would get little presents from some of our johns. The girls would trade them for things they couldn't live without. We might've been off of the streets but the habits die hard, you know? I suppose for most people they never die at all.
Me, I had always tried to stay clean. When I'd make a little bit of money, I'd hide it away. Eventually one day I had enough for what I really wanted.
At the Inn you didn't have any kind of choice in anything. You couldn't buy your way out or anything like that. We were way too valuable to be sold again. We became the favourite toys of some of the most powerful men – and women – of the slums and the Plate. I didn't harbour any illusions about that.
What I wanted, as stupid as it sounds, was a computer.
I know that sounds weird but computers had always fascinated me. It was weird. You could be the smallest, most unimportant person in the world but when you were online, there wasn't anything you couldn't do. It was amazing.
So I saved up all the presents, pawned them for half their value, and eventually managed to get one. It was a garbage machine but it was mine, you know?
I don't know why the Don let me keep it. I figure it might've amused him, having himself a little hacker hooker in his club.
I got to be pretty good at what I did though. There was something exhilarating about sneaking into places I had no right to go. I never really did anything. I wasn't there to 'bring down the system'. It was way too dangerous for someone like me to try anything like that. I'd just break into a computer network, snoop around for a while, and then cover my tracks.
After I'd been at the Inn for about two years, I was made an offer I couldn't refuse. One night, the Don called me into his private room dinning room. I'd never seen the inside of it before. It wasn't usually where girls like me had to go. I'll never forget it. The Don was sitting at a table with a man I didn't recognize right away. Then, he nodded slightly to the man before leaving the room. I couldn't believe it. Here was the Don deferring to another man in his own room. It petrified me. There were only one group of people the Don would ever treat so carefully.
I'd never had dealings with the Shinra before. Oh, sure, you'd get the occasional manager or employee, but this was different. The man just casually gave me his name. He didn't have to explain what department he was from, I knew already. Everyone knew.
Heidegger, head of the Shinra Public Maintenance and Order Division, one of the most powerful men in the world. I was terrified.
He had a proposition for me. One of my johns was a huge drug tycoon named Tyron Schaefer. He must've had some kind of a disagreement with Shinra - I never knew the details - but they wanted to take him in. The only problem was that Schaefer practically owned Sector 8. He was untouchable. Except when he was at the Inn.
It wasn't very hard what they asked me to do. I had a little discreet wire tap hidden in my room. Schaefer wasn't stupid. He never came to the Inn at the same time. It was always spontaneous. He kept all his movements secret. My job was to send a signal to the Shinra when he came and keep him occupied only somebody came...
I'll never forget that day... you were just so suddenly there. I didn't understand what had happened until it was actually over. I could see one of the guards lying unconscious outside but mostly I remember Schaefer. You had him hand cuffed and he was begging, begging you to let him go. He practically owned Sector 8 but he couldn't win against you."
Elena stopped for a moment and discreetly at Tseng from under her eyelashes. As unreadable as ever but she could've sworn she'd seen something... Swallowing again, she continued.
"That was when I knew I wanted to be a Turk.
My arrangement had been simple with Heidegger. He'd asked me what I wanted and I told him I wanted out of the Inn. He promised me he'd arrange it. Then, I told him I wanted a job at Shinra and he had sort of smiled sickeningly and promised he'd find me something. He probably figured he could turn me into some manager's secretary. You know, a little perk for one of the real keeners. But that wasn't what I wanted.
The night after you took Schaefer away Heidegger showed up in my room. I'd sent him an encoded message on his personal server to get his attention. I told him what I wanted and he laughed at me in that stupid hoarse laugh of his. He told me that he'd be happy to find me some work more suitable to my talents.
So I pulled out a diskette of some data I'd pulled out of the Shinra mainframe. It seemed that Heidegger had been embezzling money from the company for almost four years.
He could've killed me, I suppose, but I was desperate. It also helped that I had ten different copies of the file hidden in various hacker nodes in all sorts of computer networks. They were set up like little time bombs. If I didn't dismantle their code in twelve hours, they would broadcast their information to all of the most integral parts of the Shinra network.
Heidegger didn't have a choice. He gave me everything I wanted.
Maybe he thought that the job I was asking for would eventually do his dirty work for him. He didn't have anything to lose. Best-case scenario, I died within my first two weeks on the job but the information was still capped. Worst case, well, the information was capped and he had himself a Turk with good hacking skills. He had a hole in his force anyway.
I left with him that night and I never went back."
Elena's words finally died and the kitchen was quiet. Elena clenched her hands to keep them from shaking. Though she had done her best to keep her composure, she felt it wavering now that the story was finally done. There was something horribly frightening and exhilarating to have it all out in the open. Trying her best to steady herself, she watched Tseng and waited for him.
He remained quiet for a long time. In truth, Tseng was locked in a difficult internal struggle. The weight of Elena's story lay heavily on him. Her small voice, struggling to tell the story dispassionately, still echoed faintly inside him. A part of him recognized that it always would. The brutal honesty that she had shared with him astounded him and tortured him. A part of him realized that he could conceivably walk away from this conversation unchanged. It was possible. He could accept what Elena had told him, ignore all the petty details of her narrative, and simply walk away. He could crush any grating emotion that confronted him and simply carry on as he always had. Cool, professional, unchanged.
Elena, in her innocence, had asked nothing of him in return. She had not asked again about his past and she had not bartered away hers for his. Instead, she had done something far nobler. She had simply told him her story. The depth of trust that she offered him was dizzying. Yet, because she asked nothing of him, he could still walk away from all of this. It might be the logical thing to do. If he left, he would remain protected. He could still remain aloof, unfeeling. Nothing would change.
But there was a small, small part of him that didn't want to leave this table, this room. There was a small part of him that was aching to stay. It was a voice that he had not listened to in a long, long time, a voice that whispered to him of long-forgotten ideals, of honour and responsibility. It was a voice that had died in Wutai while he had continued on to live. It would be so easy to crush it again, ignore that part of himself, call it dead and walk away.
And yet the voice persisted. Why was it that Elena always aroused such torment within him?
Tseng allowed himself the luxury of studying Elena sitting across the table. She met his gaze stare for stare. Still beautiful, if he allowed himself to accept that, but there was something greater inside her that fascinated him. What kind of a woman, he found himself wondering, could offer up that much of herself for nothing at all? Why do it?
She loves you.
Why?
The bruises that Tseng had left on Elena's face were a shocking contrast against her cream coloured skin. Looking at them, Tseng remembered again the feel of her beneath his hands. He could remember her trembling body, her horrified eyes. Gods help him, he remembered her eyes most of all. Wide, brown, petrified, they haunted him. Yet at the time all he had felt was that terrible anger, no pity, no remorse, only anger. How could he have let it all come to this?
What can a person do when they are faced with a crime for which they cannot repent? What can a soul do when it is denied comfort indefinitely?
Everything repeats itself, Tseng mused sadly. One more woman led to suffer because of him. One more sin heaped upon him.
And yet here sat Elena, not condemning him, not blaming him. Instead, she offered up herself to him. She gave away what he could not: the pain she had long lived with. She shared it with him to lessen her burden. She gave him all of her trust without asking anything in return. What kind of a woman could do that?
Finally, Tseng broke away from Elena's gaze. He couldn't stand to look at her anymore. He felt nauseous with her eyes on him. He stared down at the table, looking at nothing, his torment easy to see.
Perhaps Elena had sensed some of his inner battle or perhaps she understood him better than she believed. For whatever reason, Tseng felt Elena reach across the table and touch his hand softly. Comfort, unlooked for, unasked for, and yet given without hesitation.
To Tseng's surprise, he felt his hand tightened around hers for a moment. Her hand felt soft in his. Then, he loosened his grip and Elena moved away from him again. Her eyes never left him.
There is a type of shame that can never be lessened, a type of transgression that can never be forgiven. A person could live an entire life trying to atone for their sin and fail forever. Sometimes, there is no one left to forgive them. Sometimes, they just have to learn to forgive themselves. Sometimes, it's a burden that's impossible to carry alone.
Finally, Tseng felt the courage to meet Elena's gaze again. She smiled very slightly when he did so. Tseng did not, could not, smile but his eyes softened a little as he looked at her. Then, he sighed quietly. There were so many things that he wanted to say to her that he likely never would. There was one thing at least that he could do.
"I was born in the village of Goshan in the southern Wutaian province of Gi'Jhin. My mother's name was Tetsaiya. She lived only long enough to give me my name..."
(Flashback)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Responses: Ha ha! I did it! About time, eh? Thanks so much for all of your reviews! They mean so much to me! Thank you so much!
Redshiftnova: I'm glad you like what I did with Elena's character. It's been tough but I'm glad ppl like what I'm doing.
SetsuntaMew: Yeah, I suppose it is a little on the angsty side... blush
Faile666: Ah, thank you! that's very kind... And yes, Turks do rule. Mwahaha.
Sabriel41: Ah, I'm so glad you're reading this! I remember way back when you first reviewed this. I guess I owe Heather Cat a thank you. Heh, my unofficial PR representative. Thanks for your comments on the characters. Grr, they can be frusterating sometimes. And I'm glad you picked out the star imagery. I'm secretly proud of that one. blush
Dazma: Hey, you're still here! I had thought that you'd given up on the story I hadn't heard from you in so long. Nice to know you're still around.
Cobaltdragonfly: Thanks for the review! I agree: the Turks are so much more than comic relief. Not that they can't be comical... chuckles again at idea of Elena and Reno in a closet
Rora: Thanks for the review! Yes, there should be many, many Tseng fics. Let's start a revolution. Down with the Vincent fangirls and up with the Turks. Mwahaha.
Jess Angel : Always nice to hear from you Jess Angel. Sometimes it felt like only you and Heather Cat were reading this. I'm not complaining, but you two were the only ones to review consistantly. It was nice to have ppl to count on... And about Reno's role... I must admit, no, I didn't expect it... right up until the point he brought Elena soup. Then I knew and then everything went to Hell. heh heh heh... And guess what? Next chapter... or maybe the one after... you finally get to meet her! You know, funny as it is, you already know her name... I gave it away in an earlier chapter. grins
Heather Cat: Last but never least... heh heh heh. Look, it's posted! I finally did it! I told you: everything gets done eventually. So, when will I get some BSoF? Mm, love that story. I glad you liked the dialogue. I nearly killed myself writing it but it was fun all the same. Gah, too much angst. Maybe I'll revert to writing fluff... heh, maybe not, but it's a nice thought, eh?
All right, that's it. Flashback next chapter! Tseng in Wutai... gonna be fun.