Chapter Six; Yin and Yang

Elfe stood, poised, her sword waving in the slight breeze that rippled across the multi-hung watchtower. She rested her chilled hands on the rusty iron supports and crossed her legs idly, resting her weight on one foot to allow the cramp in her right leg to ease. A sentry passed her by unnoticed, fetching a silent sigh of relief from the young woman, who was used to being caught sneaking off duty early. She felt a slight apprehension as she descended the rickety wooden ladder down to ground level; events of an unusual magnitude must be starting to swing into place if Elfe was too busy planning to notice her shirking her duty. She shoved her hands in her pockets despondently and slouched off into the darkness. She never worried herself too much about this kind of thing. She was secure in the knowledge that her leaders knew what they were doing.

Anxious to pass from the chilling dark into the slightly warmer, slightly lighter (now that they had to rely on candle power until Fuhito came up with a backup plan) atmosphere of their HQ, she nearly knocked him head over heels as they both tried to fit into the door at the same time. She muttered a hurried apology and stepped back from the boarded-up doorframe. The dark-haired man picked his glasses up from where they had fallen in the dust. He turned them to shine in the pale moonlight, now giving way to the coming dawn, inspecting the round frames for scratches. Once he was satisfied, he replaced them on the bridge of his nose and flashed a pale smile at her, turned, and melted into the fading gloom.

The sentry frowned; Fuhito had never been out on late-night reconnaissance before, she mused. Things must be elevating to a severe point when they were sending the brainpower out to fight the good fight.

She breathed out, holding two fingers parallel to each other mid-air in a mock smoking action. Her breath, even though she was indoors, froze in a cloud of pearlescent steam in the cool created by the lack of power.

Snickering childishly, she clicked her way down the concrete corridors, swerving violently to avoid Sears, barrelling down the main passageway at break-neck speed.

Elfe was still. Quiet introspection was one of her strong points, and she often spent nights such as this fading one analysing her enemy for future reference.

So, the two unusual characters that she had encountered earlier were new players in this little game. Fine. All the more entertaining for her.

The unruly novice, for that was what he clearly was by his conduct, that she had accosted a few hours previously had been of little interest to her. His speed and dexterity was notable, and she would have to adopt a wilder fencing style to get the better of his dodges, but otherwise she calculated that he could easily be broken. The Turks used guns, and he moved like a man not used to using a materia-powered weapon correctly. But the other man had been interesting. From what little she could see of him in the dark that had been pooling the stairs, he had been of more than average height and build; the practical output of this being that he had seemed to crouch over the fallen boy like a guardian demon. She smiled in the gathering light of dawn at the memory of his face as he had desperately warned them off. She had seen terror before, but never outright anger so…concentrated. So intense as to make her respect the bearer of that passionate fury. Assuming the fleeting thief survived, she was sure that she would see the odd couple again, and she would feel a little remorse at their demise. Then let the game proper begin, and let as many of those slimy Turks join as they wanted. She would take them all out.

Doctor Nathaniel Divine stood statue-still, his hooded eyes gazing steadily at the grey-plastered wall opposite him. His ashen hand held a clipboard loosely, and his other rested on the handle of a trolley bearing unidentifiable tools and a plastic bag of carmine liquid. He moved suddenly, striding over to a bank of machinery, causing Rude to jerk the gun up quickly to avoid firing. Neither his face nor his voice showed any emotion as he spoke,

'I came in to replace your friend's drip feed. There is no need to be alarmed, please, put down the gun.' The clam, measured tone spoken in Divine's sepulchral tone inspired an instant distrust in Rude's sleep-addled mind, but he lowered the gun and returned it to its holster in slow, uncoordinated movements. Divine waited patiently, pulling a transparent tube from the figure's arm, until the gun was secured, whereupon he swung the trolley round dexterously and unhooked the empty plastic container from its hooked stand. Rude slumped over in an uncomfortable plastic chair until the operation had ceased, and Divine had returned the now empty trolley to a corner of the dismal room. The doctor leant against the wall next to Rude, creating a scene that would have had Edward Hopper slavering at the mouth to capture.

Something slowly clicked into place in Rude's dulled mind. He looked up blearily at the doctor next to him, his skinny form swamped in a rumpled white lab coat. Rude's jaw clicked as he spoke, and he was surprised at the dry rasping of his own barely recognisable voice;

'That's not a normal reaction to being threatened with a gun, you do realise that?'

Divine cast his disquieting eyes down to Rude's level, and spoke with a half-mocking sarcasm to his voice;

'Oh, really? Thank you for enlightening me about that particular fact, my life will be all the richer because of it.'

'Oh, abuse now, is it?' asked Rude, frankly glad to be having a coherent conversation, albeit an uneven and insulting one.

'Yes.' Replied the doctor in a flat, half-serious tone.

Rude sighed and sank down in the chair, resting his forehead on one hand, feeling his slow pulse throb through the train-track veins in the back of his hand. He fought to say something that wasn't obviously foolish or insulting.

'So…you must get a lot of hold-ups here then?' to be able to keep that calm, he thought, and especially in front of someone as imposing as him, though he said so himself. Divine smiled and folded his arms, his bony hands cradled in the swathes of alabaster fabric like thin, pale spiders clutched in some macabre swaddling. Rude shivered.

'Not an especially high number, no.' he paused, as if contemplating an almost implausibly humorous fact.

'I am not sure if I told you this before, but one tends to learn a certain…detachment…in an establishment such as yours. And this brings me to my point. Indeed no, Rude, we hardly have any attempted crimes since Shinra decided to place you here, but people do not develop suicidal tendencies from hold-ups.'

Rude nodded slowly, not fully comprehending where this high-tone narrative as heading.

' You know that, of course. But then so do I. It is one of the many things that one learns in operations such as SOLDIER. It is still a major point of practice for several of their more uncaring operatives, I believe.'

Rude stared blankly at the gently smiling face of the doctor. He knew that this was leading somewhere – but lacked the concentration to consider what that end might be. Slowly, lethargically, his mental gears clicked into place. He looked up,

'You were in SOLDIER?' He croaked, more astonished at the fact that he wasn't that astonished than anything else. Now he knew why the doctor made him feel uncomfortable. It was the eyes; those cold, glowing eyes. He reminded him of Sephiroth. That remarkable man. That terrifying man.

'Actually I thought your friend was, too.' Rude raised a quizzical brow, his eyes squinting, half with fatigue, half with the gloom.

'The eyes.' Divine explained, waving a long finger around his own cerulean eyes. 'Make him look as if he's been fairly dipped in Mako, but, I suppose he hasn't.'

Rude shook his head. 'Everyone seems to think that. I think he's just inbred.' His voice sounded dusty, the dry residue of the pills sticking to his throat as he spoke made him cough.

Divine laughed, shaking his head. God, he even laughed like Sephiroth.

'I'll leave you to it.' He smiled coldly, gliding out of the door. Rude could have sworn that his long black hair shimmered silver in the starlight.

He stood up, resting one hand on the machines humming softly beside the low bed, the low glow of healing material illuminating his partner's face sickly. He still felt angry. He still felt frightened.

Is this what life is going to be like? Am I going to have to protect you all the time? Do I even mind doing that? Why do I always have to think so many things about you at the same time…you're my best friend. I hate you. I want to protect you. I wish you'd learn to do your job.

' No…that's something you know how to do, at least.' He murmured, unaware that he had spoken until a voice answered him.

'…Which one of my many talents are you referring to?' one bright azure eye gleamed up at him in the half-light. He jumped, startled, and straightened his tie. He allowed himself a slight smile.

The hospital lobby was less than gleaming, and had grown noticeably more dust-ridden in the three days Rude had been rushing in and out of it, torn between work and personal business. The potted plants that adorned its seating sections were frankly dead, but there was nowhere else to sit, even if said seats were depressingly grey and overstuffed. Reno's crutches lay haphazardly across the floor, skittering across each other as he kicked his feet at them.

' Why is the car not here yet?' he groaned. 'It's three o'clock, Rude. How much traffic can there be at this time of day?'

'Reno…' Rude sighed, exasperated, more tired than he had ever felt before.

'Yeah, yeah. I know. If I don't shut up you'll put your fist in my face.' The boy sighed sulkily, talkative after a week of sedation. 'You're just angry because you had to carry me in public.' His expression changed from sulk to smirk and he ducked his head so that Rude wouldn't see him sniggering. The latter's fingers twitched, and his normally immobile jaw tightened:

'Why did you run off by yourself?'

Why do I care so much?

'Well, I just thought I could do it fine myself. And…that it would save time if you were ready to go beforehand. Everyone's always telling me to be prepared, so what's the problem with doing a little strategy? With doing things myself?' Reno's thin fingers grasped at the foam-filled seat's sides, his face ill-tempered.

They put us into teams for a reason. Because we can't do everything alone.

'No problem.'

'Well the-' Reno started, suddenly livid.

'Except that you're a Turk, not a hero.' Rude interjected glumly, 'We're meant to be a team aren't we?' His voice was slow, a soft undercurrent of accusation twisting under it, willing him to lose his temper.

'That doesn't mean we have to be joined at the hip does it? You abandon me all the time. You don't see me having little heart-to-hearts every time you do something like that.'

You're like a child. Just like a child. I don't want to have to treat you like one. Why can't you just grow up?

'I've never done anything as…'

'Stupid?' The boy's tone was accusatory, self-mocking. Rude remained silent. Reno frowned petulantly.

'Yes you have.'

Rude shook his head and held up a hand. Reno crouched on his chair now, one finger waving in front of the other's face.

'No, you remember – listen to me! – you remember, you were the one who jumped off that train in sector 5, and you were the one who insisted on leaving me in the helicopter beforehand!'

Rude brushed Reno's hand away.

'I had to fly you to A and E for that." Reno grumbled, settling back into the grey seat of his chair.

I know. That's why I feel like this now. I was such an idiot then, I didn't think you'd be one too.

'But I didn't nearly kill myself for a computer drive.' Reno rolled his eyes:

' I got it, didn't I?' he snapped.

'That reminds me; they gave you that stick for a reason, you know. Why in hell didn'tyou try to fight those people?'

Reno glowered at him, his tone petulantly mocking, almost chanting the words as if he'd been told them enough times to memorise them,

'Because I'm a stupid bloody kid who can't think staright in a crisis. Happy?'

I don't want this to happen again. I want you to learn this time. For once, just please, please, grow up, won't you?

Rude remained silent, feeling that familiar tic of anger stirring within him. Reno put his hands behind his head and hissed between his teeth.

' I thought a professional always got the job done, no matter what. I thought that was the whole idea of the Turks.'

'Someone who sacrifices himself for his job isn't a professional. That's just a fool.' Rude spoke sullenly, with no hint of the welter of emotions that were only now settling back into his natural stoicism.

Don't ever die. This job would be so very boring without you.

Reno glared at him, his teeth gritted in an absence of a snappy comeback. He slouched further down into the cheap padding of his lounge chair. He smiled suddenly, his eyes narrowed petulantly but amicably:

'I hate you.'

'I hate you too, partner.'