Happy Saturday! I hope everyone is having a good weekend so far :)
First off, thank you all so much for so patiently waiting for the next chapter! Tbh I'm on new medication that makes writing a little more difficult, but this chapter is finally done and it's extra long as thanks :)
And speaking of thanks, huge thank you to silver-doe287 for being the nicest, kindest, most amazing beta reader! She caught all of my dumb mistakes and thanks to her suggestions, this extra-long chapter is much better than what it would have been.
Enjoy the chapter (and the dancing ;) )
It was far too risky to enter the Honeybee Inn through the front door, so Cloud and Aerith decided to sneak in through the back entrance instead. They had to pass through an alleyway to reach it, and the alley was dark, dirty, and smelled heavily of stagnant perfume and stale liquor. Broken glass bottles littered the ground and their contents formed sticky puddles against the concrete, puddles that Cloud desperately tried to avoid. But his footsteps were shaky. His head felt foggy. His breath rattled his lungs, and it was only by focusing on the task at hand – meeting Andrea Rhodea for an approval, somehow rescuing Zack from the Turks, and then saving Tifa from becoming Corneo's wife – did he somehow keep his jagged, fragmented self together.
Yet he couldn't help but remember what he had seen earlier. What Reno's phone conversation had made him see, because it had felt far too real and far too recent; so recent, in fact, that he could still taste the metallic tang of mako on his tongue and could still hear the mako bubbling inside the glass pod. And that noise – that sharp hiss of escaping vapor – had his gut twisting and knotting nauseatingly. He did not notice the puddle he had stepped in, did not hear it squelch beneath his boots, and he certainly did not notice the worried look Aerith gave him when he stumbled over a broken glass bottle. It rattled and cracked against the concrete as the butterflies fluttering in his stomach suddenly became bees; a hive full of bees that were crawling inside of him, buzzing and stinging all the while, their tiny legs scraping against his raw nerves.
"You okay?" Aerith asked him, and her voice was low. So low that he almost missed it.
His lips pressed into a thin, white line. "I'm fine," he lied. Lied, because the fact that she even to ask just proved how not okay he was, and he shoved his hands in his hoodie and clenched them into fists to try to stop the trembling.
Judging by Aerith's concerned expression, she very obviously did not believe him, but she mercifully let the matter drop and continued to head down the alley. Cloud followed close behind, his jacket's hood pulled low enough that it shadowed his glowing eyes. His mako-stained gaze burned hot with both adrenaline and something else that he couldn't identify, something that both sang in his blood and cut deeply inside of him. It was a song that made him want to both hold a sword and never see one again. A song that had him wanting to push away everyone around him, to build a wall around himself and never let anyone soul inside, and yet simultaneously stirred a feeling so deeply within him that he desperately craved comfort. He wanted someone to hold him. To tell him that he was okay. To tell him that the things he had seen weren't real, that they had only been part of a nightmare and when morning came, they would burn away with the rising sun.
And he hated it. He hated that fragile, brittle cry buried deep within him, and he brutally shoved it aside along with everything else he didn't want to deal with. Things that he couldn't deal with – not right now, maybe not ever. He tried to recall all of Zack's reassurances instead: reassurances such as there was nothing wrong with him; that the hallucinations were only because of the mako poisoning; that five years really wasn't that big of a deal; that things were finally looking up; that he would be okay.
He desperately – desperately – wanted to believe all of that, yet no matter how hard he tried to accept it, it was like trying to force a puzzle piece where it didn't belong. It pinched. Stung. Crumpled at the edges. All he could do was stand there as Aerith rattled the doorknob of the Honeybee Inn's back door.
Just… focus on your infantry training, Cloud told himself, and he shakily exhaled the breath that he hadn't realized that he had been holding. Stop being so… so distracted, and focus on the mission.
Right.
"Is… Is the door locked?" he managed to choke out.
Aerith made a disgruntled noise. "That's what it looks like." She reached into her hair ribbon and, with a flick of her wrist, pulled out a bobby pin. "They really don't want to make this easy for us, huh?"
"I guess not," Cloud said as Aerith knelt in front of the lock. Despite the dirtiness of the alley, the lock shined as if it were recently cleaned, though nicks and scratches marred its metal. She briefly inspected it, but then hummed and slipped the bobby pin inside. "You know how to pick a lock?"
Aerith glanced over her shoulder to grin at him. "I'm a woman of many talents," she said matter-of-factly, and then turned back to the lock. "But don't tell my mom, okay?" she asked as her brows furrowed in concentration. "She'll only get worried."
Cloud slowly nodded. "I won't tell."
"And how about you?" Aerith's breath snagged when the pin caught… but it was only a false alarm, and her lips pinched in displeasure. Sharply exhaling, she continued, "Do you know how to pick a lock?"
After a pause, Cloud faintly shook his head. "No," he replied. "Back in the infantry, we just… shot the locks off the door." Another pause. "Or one of the SOLDIERs in our platoon would kick it down to show off."
Aerith made a huffing noise when the lock caught again, but it proved to be another false alarm. "Sounds about right."
"Yeah." Cloud fidgeted with his sleeves, pulling at their cuffs, pinching the soft fabric. "And one time, Zack tried kicking down a door but it was made with reinforced steel. He ended up breaking a bone in his foot."
Aerith laughed. "Wait wait wait," she said, his lips tugging into a grin, "you're telling me that Mr. First-Class SOLDIER fought a door and lost?"
Cloud lips twitched in a smile. It was a small smile, but a smile just the same, and Aerith's expression softened at the sight of it. "Don't tell him that I told you," he said. "He was bitter about it the rest of the day."
Aerith chuckled. "Poor Zack," she grinned as she returned her attention to the bobby pin. "Don't worry; I won't say a word."
"Thanks, Aerith."
"Don't mention it." She frowned as she continued to twist the bobby pin inside the lock, when all of a sudden she managed to tilt it at the perfect angle. "Yes," she hissed under her breath, and shifted the bobby pin just a hair…
… and the door groaned open with faint click. Aerith turned to Cloud, her grin wild, as he stared at the open door in shock. "Why so surprised?" she teased as she slipped the bobby pin back in her hair. "Didn't think I could do it?"
Cloud shook his head. "I just… didn't expect it from you."
"Like I said, I'm a woman of many talents." She swung open the door, revealing a dark room behind. "Well?" she asked, dramatically turning towards him. "Shall we?"
Cloud couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, and he wordlessly followed her inside to the changing room… or at least, what he assumed was a changing room. Racks of clothes were stacked along the walls and formed a maze against the floor. That clothes themselves were gaudy, and their clash of color and fabric was nearly psychedelic. Suits flared with white and gold cut dramatic figures between black and gold leotards. Top hats hung on hooks drilling into the wall. Iridescent wings, nearly translucent in the pale lighting, were delicately draped along strung wires. Bulbous bee stingers were stacked in the corners in small, pointed hills.
Cloud assumed that the bee-themed attire was the Honeybee Inn's uniform, but there were other clothes that he couldn't make sense of at all… such as the giant dresses displayed in the far corner. Princess gowns was the phrase that came to mind when he looked at the heaping bundles of dyed satin, silk, tulle, and bows. One was a simple black gown with rivulets of satin waterfalling down its front and a bow cinched beneath the bodice, while another was little more than a royal blue corset with a flurry of shimmering black fabric bunching at the hips and before draping down the legs. Delicate bows and fishnet stockings and sleeves completed this outfit.
It was the third dress, however, that had spots of color darkening his cheeks. This dress was a blushing pink shade, and had every aspect a storybook princess gown would have: puffs of glossy fabric highlighting every curve and dip, bows strategically placed to highlight the flared hips and chest, and so much fabric spilling down the legs that Cloud couldn't figure out how anyone could stand in something like that, let alone walk around.
"Admiring the dresses?" Aerith asked, and she giggled at his flushed expression.
He gestured helplessly at the three dresses. "Would you ever wear something like this?"
"Why?" Her eyes flashed as she saw an opportunity to embarrass him. "Want to see me wearing one?"
The color on Cloud's cheeked darkened further. "Wha – No! They're just… just, like… You know what," he sputtered, "never mind. We need to focus anyway. Let's find this Rhodea guy, talk to him and save Zack, and then get the hell out of -"
The door suddenly opened, cutting him off, and laughter and conversation pushed its way inside the cluttered room. Cloud went deathly still as Aerith's head snapped towards the door, but it was too late to hide as a group of honeygirls and boys waltzed inside… only to freeze when they noticed the two intruders.
Cloud's mind, already a bit foggy, stumbled over itself as it tried to think of something to say, something that wouldn't blow their cover, but nothing came to mind. He couldn't think of anything, and he could only stare with wide eyes as his thoughts did summersaults.
But all of a sudden, Aerith suddenly stepped in front of him with a gasp. "Ms. Folia?"
One of the women, who was standing in the middle of the group, jolted. She was very pretty, and her coily hair was pulled back into a neat bun and dark eyes were wide beneath her glasses. "Aerith?" Her painted lips formed a perfect o, and there was so mistaking her shock… or her sudden horror. "You… What… What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?" Aerith shot right back.
"Folia, you knew these guys?" one of the others asked, a man with perfectly manicured eyebrows and sweeping black eyeliner.
Folia, after a brief pause, nodded. "Yeah. Aerith and I are friends, and I'll… I'll take care of this, don't worry," she quickly added. "They aren't intruders, don't worry."
"Are you sure?" asked one of the women of the group, a petite woman with bouncing blonde curls and sparkles adorning her long eyelashes. Her glossy lips were pursed in a perfect pout. "We can get rid of them if they're bothering you!"
Cloud internally winced. The phrase get rid of them sounded strangely familiar… an icy cold feeling suddenly trickled down the small of his back, and he shivered before glancing back at Aerith. But Aerith was only staring straight at Folia, apparently stunned speechless.
"And you know that they're not supposed to be here," the other man told Folia in a stage whisper. "We could all get in trouble..."
But Folia quickly waved him off. "No, we won't. No one is getting in trouble, and I'll take care of it, okay? You guys get ready for practice – I'll be right there."
The woman with the perfect pout crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you sure?" she asked again. "Like, are you positive?"
Folia managed a wane smile. "I'm sure," she promised.
After a long pause the woman finally nodded, apparently satisfied. "But if anything happens," she added as the rest of the group collected their outfits and headed back out the door, "let us know. Okay?"
Folia nodded once again, and with that, the door gently closed.
The moment the door closed, however, Folia became an entirely new person. "What do you think you're doing!" she demanded, and Cloud just about jumped. "You know better than to be here!"
Unlike Cloud, Aerith didn't seem at all surprised by Folia's transformation. "We didn't have a choice!" she said, scowling. "Things happened, and -"
"Your mom is going to be worried sick about you," Folia continued, unperturbed. "I mean, Wall Market, Aerith? Seriously?"
"I could say the same to you!" Aerith retorted. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the Leaf House, taking care of the kids?"
Color spotted Folia's cheeks, and Cloud took a step back, trying to make himself appear as small as possible. "Well… Well, today is a big day," she stammered, "but I got someone to cover for me, okay? It's not a big deal, really. You think I'd let the kids fend for themselves?"
"But their lessons -"
"Biggs is taking care of it," Folia interrupted, which had Cloud perking up at the familiar name.
"You know Biggs?"
Folia turned towards Cloud, as if noticing him for the first time. "Yeah, we're old friends," she said, her brow knitted and he lips pursed in displeasure. "We practically grew up together, but that's beside the point. You're friends with Biggs? How do you know him? Who are you?"
Cloud internally winced. There was no way in hell he could tell her the truth on how he and Biggs met – that they were both involved with Avalanche and helped blow up a Shinra reactor – but he was having trouble coming up with any other explanation. "Well," he began after a lengthy pause. "Well, my name is Cloud, and… um…"
"So why are you here, Folia?" Aerith cut in, saving Cloud from having to say anything more. "At the Honeybee Inn, I mean?"
Now it was Folia's turn to wince. "Well, the money is good, and I… It's always been my dream to…" Her voice trailed off, but after a moment she shook her head and pierced them with a glare. "It doesn't matter why I'm here," she finally stated. "The fact is, it's dangerous here. You're lucky I found you instead of the security team. But anyway..." Her gaze slid back to Cloud before coming to rest on Aerith once again. "Now it's your turn. Why are you guys here?"
Aerith frowned. "Well, it's kind of a long story," she admitted, which had Folia arching an eyebrow.
Cloud continued, "One of our friends is being held by the Turks, and they're staying somewhere in the inn. We… We want to free him. And also..." He thickly swallowed, unsure exactly how to continue. "A… close friend of mine was taken by Corneo. She was taken for one of his auditions to be his – his wife, and we want to save her. This guy named Sam said that Andrea Rhodea could help us, give us the approval that we need to get us into Corneo's mansion. Do you know…" He shifted his weight on his other foot, swallowing hard. "Do you know where she is?"
Folia, who had been listening intently to his story, suddenly chuckled. "So first of all, Andrea is a man, not a woman." Even Aerith giggled a bit at him, which had Cloud's ears burning. "And also..." Folia grew more somber, and continued, "I don't really know how to tell you this, but you really can't just meet him. The next appointment is three years away."
Cloud blanched. Three years? "But we don't have -"
"Folia, we don't have three years," Aerith cut in, her tone just as desperate as he felt. "The audition is tonight, and I have to get in." She took a step forward and took Folia's hands in her own, much to the other woman's surprise. "Can't you do something? Anything?" And when Folia hesitated, she quickly added, "I'll provide flowers to the orphanage free of charge for an entire year. I'll do whatever it takes, we just have to get that approval."
"Please," Cloud added, taking a small step forward. The thought of Tifa all alone twisted inside of him, and he inclined his head. He'd get on his knees if he had to.
After a while, Folia sighed. "Fine. I'll… I'll do it." Cloud lifted his head, wide-eyed. "But just know that, whatever happens, it's not my fault," she quickly added as she opened the door, but paused only long enough to glance over her shoulder. "Understand?"
"We completely understand," Aerith quickly replied, and as they began to follow Folia out of the room, she shot Cloud a grin and poked him in the ribs. "See?" she told him in a hushed whisper. "Told you that we had a good plan."
Cloud made a noncommittal noise as he rubbed his ribs.
"Usually Rhodea is in the back, meditating," Folia told them as they headed down the hallway. Like the costume room, the walls were gaudy and painted black with gold trim. Hexagonal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling. Music echoed from somewhere far away; it was a faint melody, pretty yet melancholy, and it struck Cloud has strangely nostalgic. "He always meditates before any big performances," Folia continued as they walked. "Says that it soothes him. Helps him find his inner balance, or something like that."
"That's interesting." Aerith walked beside Folia while Cloud hung behind, his hood raised and hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. "So you have a big performance tonight, then?"
Folia nodded. "That's right. It a little different than usual because, well… Corneo hasn't been very happy with our other shows." Her lips twisted, as if she had taken a bite of something sour. "He had the nerve to tell us that they weren't provocative enough, if you get my meaning."
Cloud's expression darkened.
"I hate that man," Aerith solemnly declared.
Cloud silently agreed, and judging by Folia's taunt expression, she did as well.
"But anyway," Folia pushed her yellow-rimmed glasses higher up on her nose, and continued, "due to such a high-profile guest's feedback, Rhodea had no choice but to change a few things for tonight's performance. It'll be the first time we'll be doing this dance. And it's not too bad," Folia admitted, "definitely not as bad as I thought it would be, though I wish Rhodea had the freedom to plan whatever he wanted. He's a genius, you know."
"A genius?" Cloud echoed behind them.
"That's right. And a little eccentric too," Folia admitted, "but… well, you'll see what I mean."
Aerith hummed as they neared a doorway. "So… not to change the subject, but I have to know. Why did you want to become a dancer, Folia?"
Folia, who had been about to open the door, suddenly tensed. Cloud didn't think that she would reply, but after a moment, she surprised him. "Well… I guess it was my childhood dream," she admitted. "It's just something that I've wanted to do; you know, dance on the stage, wear all of the costumes, and make people happy for a little while. Help them forget about their life for the few minutes that I'm up there, you know?"
Cloud didn't really understand, as he was no dancer and had no interest bathing in the public spotlight – but as for wanting to follow childhood dreams, that he understood. He understood it perfectly, to the point where simple understanding cut into him as deeply as a knife, because his dream had blown up in his face and had burned down with the rest of his childhood.
But as for Folia…
"I'm glad you're able to dance," he told her honestly, just as Folia was about to open the door. She glanced at him, surprised. "That you… made it."
Folia's expression softened. "Thank you," she told him. "And I hope this isn't presumptuous of me… but I hope that you'll find everything you're looking for, too."
Cloud's throat tightened and, thankful that the hood covered most of his expression, only managed the briefest of nods.
Folia's smiled at him, but it slipped the moment she turned back to the door. "Rhodea's office is through here," she told them both. "I can introduce you two to him, but you'll have to convince him to help, okay?"
Cloud nodded. "That's fair."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Aerith added matter-of-factly.
Folia grinned at the both of them. "Good," she said, but then her severe expression grew a bit gentler, and she added, "Good luck in there." With that she opened the door, and the three of them stepped inside.
Andrea Rhodea's office was set up in much the same way as the rest of the inn, in the sense that it also had the black-and-gold motif and that hexagonal shapes also dominated the space. However, that is where the similarities ended. Candlelight sent red-tinged shadows dancing against the walls. Towering crystals took the firelight and threw it in all directions, a kaleidoscope of colors splayed out against every surface. Incense smoked on their ceramic stands, and in the center of the room was a plush cushion, and perched upon it was Andrea Rhodea. He wore a very tight and yet very striking black suit with a fur-lined collar and bright geometric shapes inlayed into the gaudy garment.
The air was cloaked in a thick blanket of rich, heady scents, and Cloud felt almost lightheaded as he carefully made his way forward. He nearly sneezed but fought it desperately; but Aerith lost that war: she sneezed like a double-barreled shotgun beside him, and it nearly startled the life out of him in the process.
"What?" she quietly demanded when Cloud turned towards her with a look of unabashed shock. Color stained her cheeks, and her brows were with embarrassment. "A girl can't sneeze anymore?"
Cloud quickly looked away. "I didn't say anything," he quickly replied, trying to sound collected, yet there was no hiding the faint tremor in his voice… or the way his heart was trying to claw out of his chest. Gods, she sneezed loud.
"But you thought it," Aerith accused, her voice low and tense.
Cloud grimaced. "No, I -"
"Who is it?" Andrea Rhodea suddenly asked, cutting off all conversation. His voice was silky smooth, completely unlike what Cloud had imagined, and it had an almost musical quality to it – like he was about to break out in song at any moment. Then when Rhodea slowly got to his feet, Cloud realized that he was also far slimmer and more refined than any of Corneo's other men had been. His body was lithe, much like a dancer, and when he finally turned around…
There was a hard edge to his expression that made Cloud go cold, a strange light in his eyes that flickered somewhere between genius and madness. Cloud ducked his head to hide his wide-eyed expression.
Suddenly, he didn't want to be here anymore.
But I had to come, he reminded himself. For Zack. For Tifa.
I have to save them.
"I brought two guests," Folia delicately said from the door. "I know that this is rather… unconventional, but they're friends of mine and they have a rather unconventional request."
Rhodea arched an eyebrow. Ash fell from one of the incense burners and landed in a soot tray. "A request?"
"Two, really," Aerith began from Cloud's other side. Cloud shot her a worried look, though she couldn't see it due to his hood. "It's something of an emergency, to be honest. My friend and I need your help."
There was a long stretch of silence, punctuated only by the sounds of footsteps echoing behind the closed door; the distant lullaby of a violin clawing its way upward; the harsh groan of metal as stage lights were adjusted and names were called.
Finally, Rhodea pressed a delicate finger against the hollow his cheek and simply said, "I see."
"Can you help us?" Cloud pressed.
Rhodea's attention flicked towards him, and suddenly Cloud found himself pinned by those steely gray eyes; the sort of eyes that seemed to know far too much, the kind that pierced him far more deeply than sword could.
And then Rhodea sighed as if he was addressing a small child, and said, "Help is quite the fickle creature." His voice was light and lofty, almost breathless as he rubbed his manicured goatee. "It can mean many things: money, donations, time, labor, or emotional expenditure. And sometimes, all of those things at once." He paused, and his gaze flicked over Aerith and Cloud in turn. "I am a busy man," he continued, "and I do not give out help freely, and certainly not to those that don't deserve it."
Beside Cloud, Aerith thickly swallowed.
Folia cleared her throat. "I'll just… head to rehearsal," she murmured after a brief pause, and quietly slipped out without a word.
Rhodea waited until the door gently closed behind her before continuing. "But because you are our sweet Ms. Folia's friends, and apparently have something of an emergency – which I will determine for myself – I will listen to your story," he decided, and he daintily crossed his arms across his chest. "But please make it quick. I have a very important rehearsal to attend and have recently booked some unexpected guests that need to be tended to."
Unexpected guests, Cloud's mind repeated. Does he mean Zack and the Turks?
"Right, thank you," Aerith said in a rush, cutting off Cloud's inner monologue. "We appreciate it. So, two things really. First of all, I'm Aerith and this is Cloud, and Cloud's girlfriend was taken by Corneo." Cloud didn't even bother correcting her anymore; she would just ignore him anyway. "We really have to save her, but to do that, we need your help to get into tonight's audition. We need your approval." She sucked in a breath, her cheeks rosy as she hurried to explain their second emergency. "And also, the next thing is that three men are staying in your, um, establishment-" she nearly tripped on the word, but saved herself at the last moment, "-except one is basically a prisoner. We need to save him, too."
"As quickly as possible," Cloud added, which had Aerith nodding.
Rhodea hummed at their hurried explanation. "I see that you two keep yourselves busy."
"Can you help us?" Cloud's tone edged desperation. "We'll do anything."
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling incense and the distant violin. The latter's melody soared above the stage curtain and into the rafters high above, and Rhodea's silky voice accompanied it perfectly. "Unfortunately not," Rhodea said as his gaze slid over to Cloud. "You are not the first individuals to come running for help, and you will not be…"
But then his voice trailed off, and something like confusion flickered across his expression. Confusion… and something else.
"You," he stated, clearly addressing Cloud. "Take off your hood."
Cloud blanched. "Wh – What?" The worst-case scenario flickered through his mind; that Rhodea recognized him from the bounty, and then he would tell Corneo or the Turks, who would then tell Hojo, and then everything would –
But a hand on his arm snapped him back to the present, and he turned to see Aerith smiling at him. "It's okay," she said. "Really."
Cloud sucked in breath and, at her encouraging nod, slowly reached up and pulled back his hood. The room's dim lighting delicately brushed aside the shadows, and his luminous, sea-glass gaze flicked up to meet Rhodea's wide eyes. There was a fire burning in Cloud's expression – but no, not at all a fire, but a storm. A storm that raged over black seas, dashed ships against salt-soaked cliffs, and drowned the world beneath its downpour. The sort of storm that broke anything and everything in its path.
Andrea Rhodea had never seen anything so terrifying… or so beautiful.
"Perfection," he murmured.
Cloud's expression pinched. "Excuse me?"
"Perhaps we can make a deal," Rhodea mused, completely ignoring Cloud as he looked the younger blond over. Cloud went pink in the face at the obvious attention, and he fidgeted in place as Rhodea turned back to Aerith. "You say that Don Corneo took something from you?"
"Someone," Aerith corrected. "A woman, and Cloud's girlfriend. She's auditioning to be Corneo's wife tonight, not of her own volition, and we want to save her."
"We have to save her," Cloud interjected.
Rhodea nodded, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. As if something like this happened every other week. "And your second request?"
He didn't listen to us at all, Cloud thought with a frown, but dutifully replied, "We know that the Turks booked a room here, and another friend of ours is with them."
"But he doesn't want to be," Aerith cut in. "He's being held against his will, and we want to save him out, too. We have to," she corrected, echoing Cloud's earlier sentiment. "We have to save them both."
Rhodea smoothed out his stubble. "I see. Well, I will happily assist you in dealing with Corneo," he decided with a small, almost hidden smirk. "Corneo has been a thorn in my side for quite some time now, and treats my honeygirls and boys… poorly." His expression darkened. "It would gladden me greatly to see him put in his place."
"We can do that," Aerith assured. "We'd happily do that, in fact."
Cloud wasn't entirely sure how they would do that, exactly, but kept his mouth shut and admired Aerith's confidence.
"But as for your second issue," Rhodea continued, his tone more hesitant, "that is an entirely different matter. The red-haired man that accompanied them is a regular here, and he paid for a very nice room – and one of our most expensive – for an indefinite amount of time. Assisting you in this matter could lead to a stunning loss of revenue.
"But," Rhodea mused before Aerith could get a word in, "perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone." He then gave Cloud a look, one that could have meant a wide variety of things, and it immediately gave Cloud a bad feeling.
"What do you mean?" Cloud asked, but then Rhodea arched an eyebrow and he was suddenly unsure if he wanted to know the answer.
"Well… to put it simply, you will need to make up for the lost income." Rhodea said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Work off the debt, per say."
That sounded fair enough, and Cloud lifted his chin. "Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it. I'll do anything"
Aerith winced. "Cloud, maybe you should think about this for a second."
But Rhodea only smiled. "Anything, you say?"
"Anything," Cloud affirmed.
Aerith dropped her head in her hands.
Rhodea's smile only broadened. "Excellent," he said. "That's what I like to hear, Cloud. And as Ms. Folia has undoubtedly mentioned to you, we are performing a new dance tonight. Something… exotic." His grin sharpened as he looked Cloud over once again. "Something new and fresh."
Cloud only blinked as his fuzzy thoughts struggled to put two and two together. Performing a new dance… His lips pursed. Exotic? And new… Suddenly the world seemed to go deathly still around him. It was as time itself had frozen, and all he could do was blink dumbly ahead as his mind ground to a sickening, halting stop. Wait, is he saying…
"I don't dance," he stammered, suddenly wondering what anything now meant. He had just assumed it would be, he didn't know, cleaning or lifting stuff or… something, but not dancing. "You don't want me dancing."
"I beg to differ," Rhodea grinned.
Aerith placed a solemn hand on his shoulder, though there was no mistaking the way she was fighting to hide her smile. "I wish you the best of luck up there."
Cloud shot her a scathing look, and while she lowered her arm, she was smiling outright now.
"You see, that's what they all say," Rhodea continued. "They tell me, I cannot dance… but I will make a star of you yet," he murmured, brushing a hand against Cloud's cheek. Cloud froze, wide-eyed, unsure what to do or say. "Yes… a star. You will be my star, for true beauty is an expression of the heart. It is a thing without shame, to which notions of gender do not apply… and I will make you beautiful."
Cloud's brow pinched. "Excuse me?"
"Yes," Rhodea continued, as if he hadn't heard. Maybe he hadn't. "I will make you into a star indeed. Do not be afraid, Cloud."
"I'm not af-"
But Rhodea cut him off. "This is my proposition," he said as he took a step back, "one that you would be wise to accept. If you, Cloud, assist me in my production, then not only will I give you my recommendation to Corneo for the tonight's audition, but I will even help you rescue your friend from the Turks. I will not negotiate this."
"Deal," Aerith immediately replied, and outstretched her hand.
Cloud, though horrified, said and did nothing. He knew as well as she did that this was their best option right now. In fact, it was their only option… and he did say that he would do anything.
Now he had to make good of that promise.
Rhodea grinned and took Aerith's hand. "Deal," he said, and they shook on it while Cloud wanted to crawl in a hole. And when Rhodea turned fully to Cloud, he was practically glowing with excitement as he continued,"We have struck an accord, and now you will be coming with me."
Cloud's hands fidgeted inside of his jacket pocket. "I'm not sure if this is a good idea," he managed, unable to help himself. "I'll, um, I'll ruin your show. It won't be good."
"You will not," Rhodea easily and confidently replied. "If anything, you will only allow the performance to achieve its highest potential. And as for you, Miss Aerith," he added, glancing over his shoulder, "you are welcome to wait in my office, where it will be safe, while I assist in our Cloud's transformation. When we are ready, I will send one of my assistants for you."
"Transformation?" Cloud squeaked, as Aerith only grinned and said, "Thank you very much."
Rhodea's eyes flashed. "Wonderful. Now, Cloud, if you'll come with me..."
Cloud wanted to do anything but that, but if he wanted to save Tifa and Zack… well, it was time that he took one for the team. Complete this transformation or whatever, and then dance or something. No problem. After all, after all the shit he has gone through, this should be easy.
Except, at that moment, he'd rather fight a hundred Nibel Dragons than stand on a stage in front of hundreds of people and… And dance in front of them.
Cloud's cheeks burned. When did this day go so wrong?
"Cloud?" Rhodea called.
Cloud shakily exhaled. "C – Coming."
"You're going to do great," Aerith told him as he began to follow Rhodea.
"You're only saying that 'cause you're not the one performing," he muttered. "I hate this."
Aerith only laughed. "Good luck!"
Cloud swallowed his complaint and dutifully followed Rhodea out of the room. But there was just no ignoring the bad feeling boiling in the pit of his stomach, and he knew – beyond a measure of doubt – that he would hate whatever was about to happen.
Aerith grinned and waved to Cloud as Andrea Rhodea led him out of the room. There was no mistaking Cloud's pensive expression… or the grumpy look he had given her before the door clicked shut behind him, which had her giggling.
Giggling, because there had also been life flickering in his sea glass eyes, eyes that had seemed so hollow and tortured just a few short minutes before. Color once again warmed his cheeks. He even smiled at her – not once but twice in fact – and though his smile and been brief, it had been real. Honest.
And in that moment, Aerith knew that he was going to be okay. That things may be difficult now, unfairly difficult in fact, but one day he would be able to overcome what had been done to him – what was still happening to him, what he was reliving one small terror at a time.
Aerith's smile slipped, and her hand slowly lowered to her side.
Cloud had another episode.
It hadn't been the same as what she had seen back at the Loveless Plaza just a short day ago, when he could barely make out words and eventually couldn't even walk on his own. At that time, he had been helpless and terrified, unable to comprehend the world spinning confusingly around him and considering everything – from people to shadows to closing doors – a threat.
This episode wasn't nearly as bad. He had simply disappeared for a little while; he had been right beside her and yet, at the same time, had never been further away. She closed her eyes as the memory welled up within her, and then she could hear his knees crack against the concrete, could hear his choked gasps as his fingers clawed at his face, struggling to remove something that wasn't there. She had shaken his shoulder, had said his name as loudly as she had dared, and had pulled him behind the wall before Reno could notice. Yet still he had stammered. Still he had struggled, his muted cries driving nails into her heart, until he had snapped out of the nightmare all on his own.
And yet the moment Cloud realized that she was there, his first words were, I'm fine. He had repeated it over and over again as if she was the one that needed comfort, as if she had been the one on her knees, pale and trembling and gasping for air, helpless to do anything but relive some horror, and not him.
But what really broke her heart – what had burned her eyes with unshed tears, and she couldn't stop herself from embracing him – was that he had apologized to her once everything had ended. Worse, he meant every word of it. He wanted her to know just how sorry he was.
She was sorry, too. Just not in the way he thought, because while he was sorry for who he became, she was sorry for everything that had made him that way. Sorry about his hometown. Sorry for everything that had happened afterwards. She wished – wished with such a wild, futile desperation that it almost left her breathless – that none of the bad had ever happened. That both Zack and Cloud could have spent the past five years… well, happy. Happy and content and eager to live the life they wanted instead of what had been forced upon them, and as Cloud had trembled against her, she couldn't help but think:
Does Zack still relive the nightmares, too?
The thought ached within her and she clasped her hands together, so tightly that her knuckles paled and her nails dug crescents into her skin. The thought needled its way just behind her ribs, and like a bird trapped within her lungs, tore and clawed and fought its way out from between her bones. Her breath shuddered through her teeth. Her eyes squeezed shut.
She would never consider herself a hateful person, but she hated Hojo for what he had done to Zack, had done to Cloud… and for what he had done to her and her mother. He had somehow managed to deeply hurt everyone she had ever loved. Everyone she had ever cared about.
And there is nothing I can do about it.
She swallowed her humorless chuckle, and sat down on one of the plush cushions on the floor. She folded her legs beneath her and reclasped her hands on her lap, though her posture was now relaxed instead of rigid and tense. If anyone had looked into Rhodea's office right then, they would have thought that she looked demure. Maybe they would have guessed that she was thinking gentle thoughts. Thoughts about mountains, and lakes, and rivers. Poetry, perhaps. Maybe even rosy romance novels.
But instead, Aerith wasn't thinking about much at all. If anything, she was only just now realizing how lost she felt. How trapped she felt. How she was fenced in by a fate that she had no say over, and like staring down a train on the tracks, was helpless to do anything but watch until it ran her over. She could count on one hand the number of times she had felt so brutally lost.
The first had been when her mother – her true mother – had died at the train station, and she had been left in the care of a stranger.
The second had been when Zack stopped returning her calls and never responded to her letters, and she couldn't help but wonder if he had forgotten her.
This moment – this situation – was the third. She didn't even know what she would call it. She wasn't even sure what moment had finally undone her. All she knew that there was a steady throbbing deep in her chest, a squirming ache that refused to go away, and she strangely felt like crying. She wasn't even sure whom she was crying for; maybe she wanted to cry for Cloud, for everything that had been done to him, the unfairness of it all. Maybe she wanted to cry for Zack because he was the one that had to carry the both of them through the horror of it all, alone across continents while undoubtedly afraid, and yet he still managed to smile at her in the end. Or maybe she wanted to cry for herself, because she was just a slum girl who had never seen the stars beyond Midgar's smog, yet she somehow had to save Zack from the Turks and help Cloud keep it together long enough to rescue Tifa from Wall Market's most infamous crime lord, and she had to do it all before sunset because that's when she promised her mom she'd be home.
Aerith choked on a laugh.
No; if she was going to cry, she was going to cry for all three of them, because Zack and Cloud deserved so much better than what they had been given. And as for her… well, all she really wanted was a happy ending. And if that meant saving Zack from the Turks, helping Cloud keep it together, and rescuing Tifa from the most powerful crime lord in Midgar – and do it all before sunset – then damn it all, that's just what she would do.
Having found something of a resolution, she impatiently wiped her smarting eyes. Keep it together, she ordered herself. How am I supposed to be a badass if I'm a mess? Yet her stern orders didn't work as well as she had hoped; that ache in her chest only twisted at her words, throbbing in a deep, senseless hurt that left her breath shuddering, and so she did what she always did to calm down.
She folded her hands together, bowed her head, and prayed.
But in this little prayer, she didn't say a word, didn't speak to the Planet, didn't ask for it to hear her plea. Instead, she simply listened to its song. Its voice, to anyone else an incoherent babble of tangled ancient words and phrases, was a melody, a steady hum that trembled within her and shook her to her core. She was powerless to stop it from sweeping her away.
She wasn't sure how long she sat like that, crumbled on the floor cushion with her head bowed and eyes closed to the world. She wasn't sure how long her hands remained clasped and her soul bare to the Planet, but when the door opened, her limbs had gone stiff and ached from staying in one position for too long. Yet the person who opened the door wasn't Cloud or Rhodea, as she had been expecting. Instead it was Folia, and she was wearing her full honeygirl costume – complete with the black-and-yellow striped stinger attached to her rear and iridescent wings that bounced with every excited step. Her cheeks were also flushed with exertion when she bounded up to her.
"You friend, Cloud," Folia managed to say in between breaths, "is incredible!"
Aerith blinked in surprise; out of everything Folia could have said, that hadn't been one of them. It took some time to recollect her thoughts, but when it did…
"Cloud?" she repeated, just to make sure.
"Yeah," Folia nodded. "He's just… wow. He's such a quick learner, and really, just…" She shook her head, grinning. "Where did you find someone like him?"
"Er, well, it's… kind of hard to explain," Aerith said honestly, and then quickly changed the subjects. "Your costume looks nice on you."
Folia blinked. "My cos… oh!" She glanced down at herself with a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, I guess you don't really see me wearing this too often, huh? I usually stick to button-ups and jeans at the orphanage."
"True, but I like it on you," Aerith told her. "I mean, it's definitely different than what you usually wear at the orphanage… but it suits you."
Folia returned her smile. "Thanks. I'm not really sure if I like the stinger, but I do…" Suddenly her eyes widened. "Wait, we need to stay on topic! Rhodea sent me here during our rehearsal break, because he wanted to tell you that he has a plan."
"A plan?"
"That's right," Folia replied seriously. "It's a little out there, but I think it's going to work." Sucking in breath, she continued, "So here's how it goes..."
Zack considered himself something of an expert on shitty inn rooms. He and Cloud had stayed at a few while they had been on the run, and they could only afford the absolute cheapest rooms any inn had to offer. That meant the walls were weirdly stained, the beds were thin, lumpy, and far too small, and there was little else by way of comfort. Not even a lukewarm cup of coffee was available when they crept out at some ungodly hour in the morning. That said, he didn't really mind at the time. He just enjoyed the fact that there was a roof over his head, and he wasn't constantly paranoid of monsters.
That said, all of Zack's impressive inn experiences had in no way prepared him for the suite that the Turks had rented. The walls were inlayed with black marble instead of cheap wallpaper, the red carpet was thick and soft instead of thin and stained, and expensive leather couches were pressed against the walls. As for the bed itself, it was far larger than any bed Zack had ever seen. In fact, the circular mattress absolutely dominated the rather large room, and stacked on top of the mattress were heaps of blankets and pillows of all different sizes and shapes.
While pointedly ignoring why the bed was so large, a thought that had him blushing, he realized two things. The first was that there were no clocks in the room, and so there was no way to tell how much time had passed. The second was that there were no windows, not even a vent that he could squeeze through, and that meant the only way in or out was through the door that Rude now guarded.
Which, by process of elimination, meant that was trapped. Trapped with no way out, just like he had in the lab, and it took more effort than he liked to keep from panicking, to keep his breathing steady and even, to keep from shooting to his feet and forcing his way out of the door by any means necessary. It took all of his self control to simply… sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the floor. His foot tapped the plush carpet in a rapid staccato. His hands were clasped tightly on his lap. Anxiety shifted beneath his skin like a living, breathing thing, yet he dared not move, dared not even look at the door, because he didn't want Reno or Rude to be more alert than they already were. No – better to bide his time, wait until they were at their most lax and stopped paying as close attention, and then he would escape. Just like he did in the lab.
His breath hitched in his throat, but he was able to hide it with a brief cough. The more he thought about his predicament, the more uneasy he became. He wasn't sure why Reno and Rude were treating him like some sort of prisoner. He wasn't sure why they kept dodging his questions, why they kept checking their phones, or why they gave him pitying looks – like they knew something that he didn't, like they felt sorry for him.
This sucked.
"You seem tense," Reno told him from the couch, interrupting Zack's thoughts.
That wasn't the first time that Reno had said that, and Zack smiled thinly in response – all sharp edges and no warmth. "Just wondering why I'm here," he said, again. "This whole thing is kind of weird."
Rude leaned against the wall. "Tseng's orders."
"You told me that already," Zack pointed out. "So… what? We're just going to sit here forever?"
Reno loudly sighed. "We better not," he grumbled before leaning back on the couch. Tucking his hands behind his head, he continued, "And believe me, I'd tell you more if I could. But unfortunately, it's all confidential."
"Can't tell me because I'm a contractor?" Zack asked, his grin now jagged and brittle. "Or because I'm your prisoner?"
There was a pause, and then Reno said, "I wouldn't go that far." He glanced at him from the couch. "You're not a prisoner."
"Yeah?" Zack shot him a scathing look. "Because it sure as hell feels like I am."
Rude crossed his arms over his chest. "We don't like this any more than you do, but we all just have to deal with it for now."
"Deal with it..." Reno echoed, then loudly huffed his annoyance. "Hell, don't get me wrong, Fair. This sucks, I get it. You think I want to be here babysitting your sorry ass while we're at the Honeybee Inn, of all places? Shiva's tits, I could be visiting the honeygirls right now, but instead I have to stare at your ugly face."
"Well, sorry for the inconvenience."
There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Zack's tone… or the subtle threat buried in his words.
Reno's gaze narrowed and he slowly sat upright. "Watch it, Fair." His hands slid down to his electric baton, which was strapped to his thigh with leather bands. "Let's not do anything we'll regret."
Regret. The word sparked something in Zack, flickered beneath his skin like fire, and yet simultaneously chilled him to the bone. Regret. His mind snagged on the word, and a jumble of images came with it; every little thing that he wished he could change, every small action that he wished he could have done different.
He regretted not escaping from the lab sooner.
He regretted giving Cloud the order to take out Sephiroth, to finish a job not even a SOLDIER First Class could accomplish.
He regretted not spending more time with Aerith while he had the chance, and he could only hope that he could make up for some of that lost time now that they were together.
He regretted not listening to Angeal more, for not taking his lessons as seriously as he should have until it was too late, and he was gone.
He regretted not writing to his parents more when he had joined Shinra.
Every small memory was burying him, and the kinder the memory, the more it weighed. Soon he was buried beneath it all, buried beneath a weight he could never hope to carry by himself. Because how could he? He had learned so many times, and in so many different ways, that his shoulders weren't as broad and his hands weren't as big as he had thought they had been. He couldn't be a hero; he hadn't saved a single person. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he had saved himself.
Zack dryly chuckled, humorless and bitter. "Regret, huh?" he murmured, and he slowly stood upright. Both Rude and Reno pushed themselves to their feet, a look of unease shared between them both. But Zack didn't care. He didn't care because for the first time in he didn't even know how long, he didn't have to look after anyone anymore. There was no one to take care of besides himself. There was no mission target that he had to protect. He didn't even have to keep an eye on Cloud, because Cloud wasn't here – he was awake, alert, safely in the care of Aerith, hanging out with the girl he had gushed about back in his infantry now.
And that meant that right now, all that existed was Zack, Reno, Rude, and the door outside.
A strange chill slid in place within him, an icy hardness that had not been there before. "Don't talk to me about regret," he murmured, far more quietly than before, and his gaze flicked to his Buster Sword. It leaned against the bed not five steps to his right, and he knew that he could cross that distance in less than half a second.
But would that be enough time? he wondered. Reno and Rude were trained Turks, not to mention shockingly quick, and his mind spun out the calculations. Eventually he decided that yes, half a second would be enough time, but it would be cutting it close. He was also outnumbered, but at least both Turks kept to close-range weapons, which was the fighting style he was most familiar with. There was also the matter of his still-healing bullet wounds, but he reassured himself with the fact that he hadn't been at his best when he had escaped the lab either, yet escape he did, and he did it while carrying someone else too. He crossed two continents while weakened from four long years spent in glass jars. Compared to that, Reno and Rude were nothing.
Having reached a decision, he leaned forward so that most of his weight had shifted to the balls of his feet. His knees bent, and leather strained. Tension rested heavily on the room as Reno's fingertips brushed against his baton, and Rude slowly lowered his center of gravity, hands lifted in an offensive stance.
The ice that had settled inside Zack chilled even further, and his eyes narrowed as frost pushed through his veins. In three seconds, he would grab his Buster Sword and sprint for the door.
Reno undid the first clasp, and the snap rang loudly in the room.
Two seconds.
Leather hissed as Rude adjusted his gloves into a more comfortable position. Zack muscles went taunt as he made tiny adjustments to his feet, just to keep himself perfectly balanced.
One...
… but then, without warning, the door burst open.
Zack cursed as his nerves, already strung tight to the point of breaking, just about snapped.
Reno also cursed, albeit much more loudly. "Didn't you see the Do Not Disturb sign?" he shouted at the door, yet the words died in his throat as a honeygirl and a honeyboy pranced into the room. Both were in full uniform; the honeygirl's dark curls waterfalled between her iridescent wings and forked at her striped stinger, while the honeyboy's sharp suit cut his lithe form into a striking figure.
It was only the ridiculousness of the honeygirl's costume that kept Zack from sprinting out the door. That, and the fact that they closed it right after them and then Rude moved to block it.
"Hi hi!" the honeygirl sang as she stepped into the room. The honeyboy only inclined his top hat, his glossed lips curved into a sharp smirk.
"This room wasn't to be disturbed," Rude said, now leaning against the doorway. Zack made an impatient noise and sat back down on the bed, fuming.
The honeygirl spun towards Rude, making a show of how her stinger bobbed with the movement. "But today is your lucky day!"
"We are currently hosting a surprise performance in the theater," the honeyboy added, his voice a low purr. "And as you three are VIP guests, we have saved the very best seat for you… with Andrea Rhodea's compliments, of course."
Rude's brows furrowed. "I don't see how -"
"The best seat?" Reno interrupted, earning him a dark look from Rude – one that went completely unnoticed. "With Andrea Rhodea's compliments?"
"That's right!" The honeygirl turned to him with a winning smile. "Isn't that incredible? And did I mention that it's a once-in-a-lifetime, never-before-seen show featuring our most recent honeygirl?"
Reno clutched his chest. "Rhodea hired a new honeygirl?"
"That's right," the honeyboy replied. "Tonight is her debut performance, and she is very talented. So talented, in fact, that she will be performing with Andrea Rhodea himself."
"No way." Reno, having apparently forgotten the fight that had been about to break out, turned to both Rude and Zack with wide eyes. "I have to go. I'm going."
Rude only looked at Reno in disappointment. "You can't go – you're working. And besides," he added with a sniff, "you go to these performances often enough."
"It's theater!" Reno protested. "I'm supporting their artistic expression!"
"Why don't you all come along, then?" the honeygirl asked. She batted her long eyelashes at Reno as she did so, and he audibly swallowed. "The more the merrier, right?"
"No," Rude stated. He shot Reno and long look and repeated, "We're working."
"What's the harm?" Reno shot right back. "I can go, and you can watch Fair."
While Zack didn't appreciate being treated like a child needing to be watched, and he was still trying to get his emotions back under control, he did see a ray of hope in an otherwise bleak situation. If Reno went to the show, then that would leave him alone with Rude… and that would certainly improve his odds of escaping, at any rate.
"Why don't you all go, if your friend needs a bodyguard?" the honeyboy offered. "You can guard him together during the show?"
Zack immediately wanted to tell the honeyboy to shut up, that they were not his bodyguards and were, in fact, his prison wardens, but kept his mouth shut. They didn't need to get involved in this mess. Escaping was his responsibility; he didn't want to push that burden on another, especially just an innocent bystander trying to make a living.
"That's a good idea," Reno agreed. "Fair can sit between us, and we can both watch him." Rude loudly huffed, which had Reno bristling. "Partner this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience! No one has ever seen this show before! And do you know how often Rhodea hires new dancers? Never!" But when Rude didn't reply, only lifted his eyebrows is an exasperated expression, Reno scowled and added, "This is why people think you're boring, you know."
Rude blinked. "I'm not boring."
"You are boring," Reno shot back. "You don't take risks, you do everything exactly as ordered, and you have like, no hobbies! Buddy, you know I care about you and would never do anything to purposefully offend you, but I gotta say it: You're boring as hell. I mean," he added at Rude's offended huff, "have you ever been to a Honeybee Inn show before?"
"No, but I don't see how -"
Reno loudly shushed him. "No buts! That settles it. You, my friend, will be boring no longer. It's time to live a little. And as for you," he added, whirling to Zack, "consider this a gift. You're welcome."
Zack nearly told Reno to fuck off, but he held his tongue. He knew his part. He would be the good little prisoner, do exactly what he was told, and the moment they dropped their guard… then he'd run for it. He'd be gone faster than they could blink. Then he'd find Aerith, grab Cloud, and figure out how to leave Midgar for good. He didn't like living in the city much anyway.
"Fine," Zack finally said, as civilly as he could manage. "I'll go. But don't expect me to like it."
Reno looked positively thrilled. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Zack, after reminding himself that this was his best chance to escape, resolutely allowed himself to be dragged along. Reno and Rude made sure he walked between them, and their hands never strayed far from their weapons. Their eyes flicked to every well-dressed guest, every overly loud laugh, every excited titter about the show, the new honeygirl, the upcoming performance. Guests in flashy clothing choked the main entrance hall and, for a moment, Zack thought that he might be able to make a break for it…
… but then he remembered that his sword and his box of letters was still sitting in their room, and he immediately pushed the thought away. He couldn't leave without them. He wouldn't.
Shit.
He had forgotten about that.
The thought hardened something within him, and he shoved his hands into his pockets as Reno pushed the theater doors open. The theater was just as grand as Zack had been expecting. Clusters of booths, all hexagonal to continue the honeybee theme, were carefully arranged to face the stage. Chilled drinks sweated against the table. Honeygirls and boys fluttered from cluster to cluster, trays delicately balanced on one hand while they flashed smiles at the patrons. If he turned his gaze upward, he would have noticed teardrop lights hanging from the ceiling like dripping honey.
Their honeygirl and honeyboy expertly guided the three of them to the booth, one nestled directly in front of the stage, that had been marked with a golden reserved sign. Reno made a noise of appreciation when he noticed the chilled drinks already in place, as well as a plate of hors d'oeuvres – an assortment of sashimi with various dipping sauces – resting in the center of the table.
"It is Andrea Rhodea's thanks for your generous patronage of our establishment," the honeygirl murmured as they slid into the booth. The dim theater lights shimmered against her golden eyeshadow as she batted her eyes at them. "I hope you'll enjoy it."
Rude made an uncomfortable noise in the back of his throat, and he kept his gaze firmly on the table.
"This is very nice," Reno replied. He lounged in the booth like a content cat, with his arms draped against the seat's back and legs crossed at the knee. "I'll have to thank Rhodea personally."
Zack only sat silently between Reno and Rude, his gaze narrowing at the champagne flute bubbling in front of him. Condensation beaded its delicate glass and cried down its elegant curves. This is bribery, he decided, and raised his gaze to the honeyboy setting out the cutlery. The honeyboy, seeing Zack's look, simply winked before placing the napkins and departing.
Zack's scowl deepened as he watched the honeyboy walk away. Am I paranoid, he thought, or did that wink mean something?
"Now you three just sit tight until Andrea takes the stage," the honeygirl continued, leaning provocatively over the table to refill Reno's champagne, which he had already downed. Zack couldn't help but notice that she had locked her green eyes with his, and her expression was strangely serious. Far too serious for someone wearing a bee suit. "I would hate if you missed any part of the show."
"So would I," Reno replied, clearly appreciating the view.
"And especially get a good look at the new honeygirl," the honeyboy added, having returned with a new plate of appetizers – this time, it was little pastries filled with ham, cheese, and spinach. Setting the hot dish in front of them, and keeping his gaze firmly on Zack, he continued, "She is surprising in more ways than one."
Zack arched an eyebrow – Surprising in more ways than one? – but before he could ask, the honeyboy told them to enjoy the show and then walked away, the v-shaped tail of his coat swaying with every step. Zack watched him leave, his lips pursed in a frown.
The hell was that about? he wondered, but before he could think about the honeyboy and girl's strange behavior more, the lights suddenly went dim and the entire audience hushed with it. The sound of glasses clinking against each other faded. Giggles and hurried conversations faded into a tense, expectant silence.
"It's starting," Reno hissed beside him. His gaze was pinned to the stage, and he was practically buzzing with excitement. Rude told him to shut up.
A woman's voice suddenly rose up from somewhere in the crowd. The melody was sweet and sultry, and yet there was an edge that demanded the audience's absolute attention. And as the song flitted from note to note, climbing higher and higher, quiet and captivating all at once, the lights slowly brightened with it. Soon the dancer's lithe forms, hidden by the stage's shadows, were caressed by golden light. Their haloed silhouettes teased the crowd as they snapped in rhythm with the song's hard beat.
Zack, who had never been to anything quite like this before, could only stare in shock. He didn't know what to make of all of this. He was so enthralled, in fact, that he had nearly forgotten about his predicament, and he also nearly missed the giant flower slowly rising up from the floor behind the first row of dancers. Its violet petals shimmered beneath the lights. All of the dancers moved around it in tight movements, and when the woman's voice clawed its way into a crescendo… Fireworks burst out from behind the stage in a sudden flash of sparks and light, drawing out oohs and ahhs from the crowd. Sparkling confetti rained from the ceiling. The lights flared to life as the dancers began spinning in full force, their bodies twisting and bending in impossible directions. The honeygirls draped themselves across the honeyboys, and the honeyboys bent them into elegant curves before throwing them into the air, a graceful toss that made them look like they really could fly with their plastic wings.
"Hot damn," Reno murmured beside him.
Zack didn't reply; he didn't really know what to say. All he could do was stare, wide-eyed, as the song throbbed through the theater and the dancers throbbed with it. The now fully-bloomed flower was replaced by another, this one stained gold and glittering beneath the lights. At this one point all the dancers congregated again, their bodies twisting around each other as if they were a single being as the golden flower suddenly opened with another burst of fireworks. Sparks sprayed into the air. Shimmering confetti rained onto the stage and into the audience. Holographic honeygirls danced and twirled above the audience like golden fairies, their draping fabrics and iridescent wings bouncing with every turn and pirouette.
And there – standing in the center of the blooming flower – were two figures locked in a tight embrace. One was clearly Andrea Rhodea; though Zack had never seen there man before, there was absolutely no mistaking it. Rhodea's clothes were so well fitted that it left very little to the imagination, and the thin straps closing the front of his suit were the only thing preventing the daring outfit from falling off. His collar was lined with black fur, tassels dangled from the sleeves, and his shoes glimmered beneath the golden lighting.
As for his partner…
That must be the new honeygirl, Zack realized, just as Reno excitedly leaned forward and murmured, "That's her." Rude only huffed, clearly unimpressed.
While Zack was initially surprised that she wasn't wearing the familiar honeygirl garb, he quickly realized that there was just something... familiar about her, something that he just couldn't put his finger on. Maybe it was how her golden hair was messy and mused just as Cloud's was, except hers was much longer and done into twin braids tied with neat little bows. Or maybe it was her natural slenderness; Cloud was very thin as well now, so Zack instinctively noticed the hollows of her cheeks, the thinness of her wrists, the way the corset didn't need to be pulled tightly to show off her small waist. How the navy blue dress flared generously at her hips and swallowed the rest of her up. Or maybe it was the expression she wore, how her glossy lips were pursed in a scowl and her luminous eyes were narrowed-
Zack's eyes flew wide. Her eyes were luminous?
And just like that, it all pieced together.
Oh my god.
He leaned back in the booth, almost feeling a bit lightheaded.
Don't tell me…
He pressed a hand to his forehead, and if it wasn't for the SOLDIER training drilled into him, he just might have passed out.
Oh my god, that's Cloud.
"Damn, they picked a good one," Reno murmured beside him, his tone heavy with awe. "Think I can get her number?"
Rude huffed, his arms crossed over his chest as he sulked. "Reno, please shut up."
But Zack hardly heard them. His heart had stopped dead in his chest and his mind was spinning, his thoughts tumbling within his skull like laundry. Clearly Reno or Rude didn't recognize Cloud, which was a small blessing. But how could they? Look at what he was wearing. Zack couldn't quite believe it, to be honest, and leaned back into the booth while shaking his head. This was… This had to be some sort of fever dream, just a strange hallucination. That wasn't Cloud. It couldn't be. He was safe in Sector Seven with Aerith and Tifa so he couldn't be here, not in Wall Market, and especially not performing in the Honeybee Inn of all places. That was just impossible.
And yet there was no mistaking Cloud's all-too familiar glower when Rhodea helped him off the flower – helped him, because he was wearing three inch heels and was a bit wobbly in them, though he did regain his balance fairly quickly. Zack covered his face with his hand as he sank into the booth, his fingers splayed so that he could peek between them. Second hand embarrassment burned through him.
What the hell, Cloud.
Why are you -
Reno, noticing Zack's obvious discomfort, smirked. "You like her too, huh?"
"Get bent," was Zack's immediate reply.
Reno snorted a laugh, but dutifully returned his attention to the stage.
There was quite a bit to look at, the obvious excluded. The lights had begun to dum, and all of the dancers suddenly converged. Iridescent wings shimmered beneath the stage lights as they clustered together. The long, v-shaped tails of the suits flared dramatically as they spun. The woman's lilting voice shone above them all as three platforms rose in the back, but Zack didn't notice any of it. His could only watch, stunned speechless, as Rhodea and Cloud moved closer even as the rest of the dancers pranced off the stage.
Rhodea's lips suddenly moved, and it was thanks to Zack's lip-reading training that he was able to decipher it: "Think you can follow my lead?"
A blush stained Cloud's high cheekbones. "I hate you so much right now."
Zack openly gaped, but Rhodea didn't seem to mind; with a breathy laugh, he effortlessly spun Cloud across the stage, and the spotlight followed Cloud as he moved to mirror Rhodea. His blue dress flared around his legs, showing off the lacy black tights hugging his ankles as he took his place. The heels he wore clicked against the stage. His black bow bobbed in his hair, though it was nearly buried in the natural yet unruly spikes that had clearly resisted the use of hairspray.
Zack, seeing where this was going, drained the rest of his champaign just as Rhodea and Cloud began to dance to the hard beat of the music. Their movements mirrored one another; Rhodea led, and Cloud followed. Rhodea, however, had far move smoother movements, and his dance was graceful, elegant while still maintaining a rugged sort of sureness. Cloud, on the other hand, was more jerky. Zack could see the mako glow in his eyes flare with panic when he missed his cue, and yet not one person seemed to notice. The audience roared when he nailed one of the moves, and his flowing dress and admittedly gorgeous makeup easily hid any other perceived flaws.
All Zack could think was, Holy shit. His mind could not accept what his eyes were seeing. It was too out there, too surreal, and he couldn't help but wonder that this was a hallucination. Or maybe Cloud was the one hallucinating? he wondered, partly in amusement and partly in acute second-hand embarrassment. What the hell did they teach him in the infantry?
Zack wasn't sure how long Rhodea and Cloud mirrored each other, or how long they followed each other's movements. The lights stained their shifting bodies violet as they complimented one another, their synchronized movements nearly hypnotic – mesmerizing, in fact.
But then the lights dimmed further. Blue stained the stage as the music shifted from lighthearted jazz to something harder, more robotic and techno, and the dance shifted with it. No longer did it flow from Rhodea to Cloud, or Cloud to Rhodea. No longer did one lead the other through the delicate poses and postures, but their mirrored movements sharp yet sensual, brutal yet elegant, practiced and coordinated and dangerous. Some whistled at Cloud's steely glare. Rhodea winked at the crowd.
Zack drained Rude's untouched glass of champaign too, earning himself a harsh scowl in the process. He didn't think he could even look at Cloud the same way again. Was this some sort of side job? A private hobby? Did Cloud… Did Cloud like dancing? Zack never would have guessed it, but…
… but then a hand suddenly tapped him on the shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. To his surprise a honeygirl was standing over him, one with coily hair tied back in a tight bun and yellow glasses resting on her delicate nose.
"Your turn, pretty boy," she purred as she hauled him to his feet.
Zack had thought that nothing would surprise him anymore, and yet her declaration had him staring dumbly. "My turn?"
Rude was on his feet in an instant. "He's with us," he said darkly, and made a move to block Zack's escape. "He's staying with us."
But out of nowhere, a honeyboy approached and placed a firm hand on his chest. "Don't worry," the honeyboy murmured as he pushed Rude back down in the booth. Climbing beside him, he added in a low voice, "I'll keep you company."
Rude flushed scarlet, and Reno rolled his eyes at his partner before standing up. "Look, little lady, don't mean any disrespect but..." He flashed her what Zack assumed was a winning smile, but truth be told, it looked a little creepy. "See, we're in charge of him. Bodyguards, and all of that."
To the honeygirl's credit, she only grinned and replied, "Right now you're not."
"What?" Reno looked taken aback for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Now wait just a-"
Two honeygirls suddenly swarmed him, and with hands on his shoulders, forced him back down in the booth. "But if you go with her, you won't be able to stay with us," one tittered, while the other ran a hand down his arm and said something about his muscles. "Wouldn't you rather keep us company?"
"Wait, that's not -"
But Zack didn't hear the rest though, because then the glasses-wearing honeygirl was pulling him through a side door. He could feel the music tremble through his boots as they hurried behind the stage. The quick beat rattled through him, and he tried to imagine Cloud dancing to this particular song in drag… but couldn't. Not even his imagination could create a scene like that.
"You're not going to make me dance on stage, are you?" Zack asked, albeit nervously. "Because I'm going to tell you right now, you're going to be disappointed."
The honeygirl chuckled. "That wasn't the plan, don't worry. My name is Folia – I'm a friend of Aerith's. She and her friend mentioned that you needed help."
That declaration had Zack blinking, and he brilliantly said, "Huh?"
"Aerith and her friend Cloud came here to find you," Folia explained as they quickly turned the corner. They passed a costume room to their left, and to their right appeared to be some sort of makeup room. "They wanted to save you from the Turks."
Zack quickly connected the dots, and after a pause, he said, "And don't tell me… Does that have something to do with why Cloud'son that stage right now?" That did make far more sense that Cloud moonlighting has a Honeybee Inn dancer…
Folia giggled. "Yes – the Turks payed a lot for the room you were in, so Rhodea wanted some form of payment for it. But none of us imagined that Cloud would actually agree to it! He seemed so quiet, and shy… even Aerith was surprised," she mused.
"I'm surprised," Zack muttered his breath, but now this was making more sense. At least there was some sort of rational reason to all of this, but there was one thing he didn't quite understand. "So why the dance?" he asked.
"Because Rhodea only gives his approval to clients that can move," Folia replied simply, which had Zack's eyebrows raising. "And Cloud needed to earn his approval."
Zack frowned. "Needed his approval for what?" he asked, but then then the door opened, and he was suddenly enveloped in a tight hug.
"Zack!" Aerith cried into his chest, and Zack instinctively folded his arms around her. "Oh thank god, you're not hurt." Glancing around him, she told Folia, "Thank you. Really – I mean it."
Folia curtly nodded. "It's no trouble," she insisted, and then turning to Zack, added, "I need to hurry back to the show, but some of the others are already grabbing your things from the room. They should be here any second."
"And Cloud?" Zack asked, holding Aerith tight against him.
"Rhodea will escort him here the moment the show is done." Folia adjusted the straps of her wings before pushing her glasses higher up on her nose. "They just have one more dance, so a few more minutes tops."
"Do you want us to stay here until it's done?" Aerith asked.
Folia nodded. "Yes, please. This place is the most secure in the entire Honeybee Inn, and not even the Turks would dare enter without explicit permission from Andrea Rhodea. First off, they would need a warrant, and that is tricky to come by in Wall Market."
Aerith frowned at that. "I don't think they care about warrants. To be honest, I don't think they care about anything other than their mission."
"Maybe," Folia said with a shrug, "but either way, don't leave. Rhodea will be back soon with Cloud."
With that she turned to leave, but before she closed the door completely, Zack said, "Thank you." His arms tightened around Aerith, and she looked up to smile at him. "Really."
Folia offered him a brief smile, then ducked her head and locked the door behind her.
The moment the door had closed, Zack turned to Aerith and said, "What the hell did I just see out there?"
Aerith giggled. "You first," she told him, but then her tone grew more serious as she continued, "What happened? How did you end up with the Turks? I – I was worried sick, you know."
Zack offered her a wane smile. "Everything went well until I grabbed my sword. I ran into Cissnei by the elevator, another Turk if you haven't met her yet, and she told me that… that the Turks weren't safe anymore. And that..."
"That?" Aerith gently prompted.
He exhaled, and slowly opened his eyes. "That Hojo is looking for Cloud." When Aerith didn't look nearly as surprised as he had been expecting, he thickly swallowed and continued, "Our conversation was interrupted by Reno and Rude, who took me to Wall Market on Tseng's orders. I've been trying to figure out a way to get away and meet you and Cloud, but I didn't think of anything, obviously," he added with a bitter huff of laughter. "Thanks for saving me, by the way. I don't think I'll ever recover, though."
Aerith laughed. "Thank Cloud," she told him. "He's the one that's dancing."
And about that… "How the hell did that happen?" Zack leaned away from her, eyebrow arched in question. "Did you drug him?"
"What! Of course not. He did all of that willingly. And he practiced really hard, too! Folia told me that he's a really quick learner."
"But like, how did that even happen?" Zack asked, shaking his head. "He was wearing a dress, Aerith. And like, not a little summer dress or whatever, but a full on ball gown. Dancing!" Gods above, he'd probably never forget it now. "And like, how did you guys even get here? What's going on?"
At that, Aerith began fidgeting her hands together. "Well, it's kind of a long story," she said after a pause. "To make a very long story short, Tifa is auditioning to be Corneo's wife -"
"Corneo," Zack repeated, aghast. He knew Corneo – everyone in Shinra did, really. The infamous crime lord of Wall Market, and the one person you didn't want to cross because not even Shinra could save you then. Corneo basically owned Wall Market. "You don't mean Don Corneo, do you?"
Aerith solemnly nodded. "And the only reason she's doing that is because there's a bounty on Cloud's head, and she went to get more information." Zack visibly paled; this was new information to him. Aerith continued before he could comment, "Cloud and I came to save her, but we were turned away – apparently, only people with the Trio's approval can enter the mansion and audition. And Rhodea is one of the people that can give approvals."
"A bounty?"
"We're getting information now," Aerith told him. "Don't worry; we're taking care of it."
Zack slowly exhaled. "Too late," he said matter-of-factly, but did his best to move on. "So Cloud is out there dancing his heart out in drag," he slowly summarized, "because Rhodea needed payment for saving me from the Turks, but also so he can win Rhodea's approval and audition to Corneo to save Tifa. Who is trying to get more information on this bounty of Cloud's head."
"That's the gist of it," Aerith told him. "You catch on quick!"
But Zack wasn't remotely pleased by that; in fact, he simply dropped his head in his hands and groaned. "Aerith..."
"It's not a bad plan," she immediately said. "It's the only way to save Tifa – and you, for that matter!"
Zack lowered his hands from his face. "It's dangerous!" he said, trying to keep his voice from raising. Yet raise it did. "Hojo is after him! Hojo! The same guy that imprisoned us for years, the same asshole that did… that did things to him! I can't just… I can't," he said simply, giving up all other explanation. "This can't happen. There's no way."
"Zack, this means a lot to Cloud." Aerith placed a gentle hand on his arm; he didn't pull away from the touch. "He was beside himself when he found out Tifa was in danger, and he would do anything to save her. At least now he's disguised, right? And it's an amazing disguise, too. I bet you didn't even recognize him."
"Of course I recognized him," Zack scoffed.
"But did the Turks?"
"Well, no… but that's beside the point."
"You're right," Aerith said, surprising him with her agreement, but then she continued, "Because the point is that Cloud isn't well but he is trying his best to keep it together to save the people he cares about the most. Like some people I know," she added, which had Zack frowning at her obvious implication. "This is a good plan, Zack. And even more importantly, Cloud feels useful now. He feels normal, like he isn't someone that needs to be taken care of."
"Cloud is normal," Zack said immediately; in fact, he was offended that Aerith would ever suggest anything otherwise. "Sure, he's recovering from mako poisoning, but there's nothing wrong with him."
"Of course there's not," she told him gently. "But that's not what I meant. Cloud isstill recovering… and he might have had a bit of a breakdown earlier," she added after a pause, which had Zack going still, "but now he's doing much better now, and I think it's because no one is hovering over him like a worried mother. I think the best thing for him right now is for everyone to treat him normally, instead of someone that needs to be looked after like a child."
Zack scowled. "I treat him normally."
"You also hover," Aerith told him gently. "Which I get. Really – I understand why, and I think Cloud does need some extra watching. It would be irresponsible to forget that he is still recovering, and isn't at his best right now. But if he's going to get better, he can't be constantly reminded that he's unwell. Okay?"
Zack watched her for a moment as if she was hiding something, but then he realized what he was doing and huffed a brief laugh. "Yeah," he said after a pause. He ran an impatient hand through his hair, uncaring if he tore or pulled at any knots. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense."
"So when he comes off the stage, can you treat him normally?" Aerith asked. "Like, don't ask him if he's okay or anything. Just… comment on his dress."
Zack snorted. "Easily done."
"Thanks, Zack." Aerith placed a hand on his arm with a faint smile, and his gaze dropped down to it. "I know it's tough, but things will be okay."
Slowly, gently, he placed a hand over her own. "Sorry," he added in a low murmur. "Today… hasn't been easy."
"I know," Aerith replied, her own voice just as quiet. "But we're here for you now. Both me and Cloud, okay? We'll figure things out."
Zack's eyes pricked, and he ducked his head to hide it. "Thank you," he said, a little hoarsely. "For being here."
Aerith lifted his hand to her lips and brushed the faintest of kisses across his knuckles. "Of course, Zack," she murmured against his skin. "Of course."
Zack thickly swallowed, and was just about to reply when the doors suddenly swung open. He lifted his head just in time to see two honeyboys dragging his Buster Sword into the room, far more easily than he had been expecting, as well as another honeygirl bringing in a small wooden box. "Special deliveries," the honeygirl grinned as they set his stuff on the ground, and then with brief goodbyes and thank yous, they once again disappeared out the door as quickly as they had come…
… just in time to be replaced by Andrea Rhodea and Cloud. Rhodea looked just as flawless as ever; not even his cheeks were flushed with exertion as he strode into the room, his suit flaring dramatically with every sashaying step. On the other hand, spots of color stained Cloud's high cheekbones and his dress was slightly rumpled, though nothing that a quick smoothing couldn't fix. His hair accessories stayed perfectly in place, and though the hairspray had completely worn off, the rest of his make up looked untouched.
The moment Cloud noticed Zack and Aerith, he went deathly still before going beat red. Even his ears burned a bright scarlet.
Zack heard Aerith's order to 'Act Natural' echo in his skull, and yet shooting Cloud a wild grin came effortlessly. "Dude!"
Cloud's eyes widened, and his eyes seemed even larger due to the dark mascara thickening his lashes, the sharp eyeliner, the gleaming eyeshadow. "Please don't," he practically hissed. Now that Zack could see him up close, he could really see just how much Cloud didn't even look like Cloud; not really, not with all of that makeup on. Hell, he looked slim in that corset instead of borderline painfully thin. The makeup also added color to his cheeks, taking out their pallor, and made him look… delicate. Maybe even a little fragile.
But then Zack looked back at Cloud's eyes, at the barely concealed rage and embarrassment there, and the fragile image shattered immediately.
Zack's lips twitched into a smile. "Very cute," he grinned as he looked Cloud over, much to Cloud's mortification. "This could be a new look for you, Spikey."
"Asshole," Cloud bit out.
But then to Cloud's surprise, Zack suddenly ruffled his hair; gently, as not to ruin the bow, but a ruffle all the same. "Aerith told me that you did all of that for me," he said, his grin a bit softer. "Thanks, buddy."
Cloud scowled, still beat red, but not nearly as embarrassed. "See if I ever do it for your sorry ass again," he muttered as he waved Zack's hand away. "And not another word about the dress."
Zack only laughed, and completely missed Aerith's misty-eyed expression as she watched the two boys.
"As much as I hate to interrupt this little reunion," Rhodea said, dragging them all back to the present, "may I remind all of you that the Turks are still watching the show, and will begin growing suspicious when your dark-haired friend does not take the stage." The room immediately sobered at the reminder. "Here," Rhodea continued, handing a letter to Aerith. "This is a recommendation for Madam M, a masseuse near here. She is the third member of the Trio, and you will need her recommendation as well."
Cloud's lips pursed in annoyance, but with the amount of lipstick and gloss he was wearing, he only looked like he was pouting. "That wasn't part of the deal. I thought you'd give both Aerith and I the approval."
"Aerith did not dance," Rhodea effortlessly replied, and then winked at him. "Consider the recommendation a tip; a well earned tip for your flawless performance. And if, by chance, you return and would like to pursue a career on the stage..."
Cloud flushed. "Not interested."
Rhodea only chuckled. "It is only an offer," he said, and then turned his attention back the rest of the group. "I can't promise that Madam M will look at the letter, but it is worth a try. The three of you can leave through the back door in the meantime, so do it quickly."
Zack immediately began equipping his sword and grabbing his box as Aerith thanked him. Rhodea then said something to Cloud, something that made him flush, before the three of them hurried out the back door. Cloud wobbled when his heel dug into a crack in the alley, but Zack and Aerith simultaneously grabbed his arm to steady him.
"Goddamn these heels," Cloud hissed, with more venom than Zack had ever heard from the quiet, soft-spoken infantryman before. "I want my old shoes back."
"Don't be such a baby and walk," Aerith told him. "If you can dance with them, then you can walk down the road with them."
"This is stupid."
Zack ignored the two of them completely. "Let's stick to the alleys," he said, glancing nervously at the main road. Darkness had descended on Wall Market, and the lights that had been strung across the road had all flared to life. They lit up the sizable crowd beneath them, all who wanted to enter the Honeybee Inn. "It'll be quieter."
"Good idea," Aerith replied before returning her attention to Cloud. "When you walk, you're going to want to hold up the skirts so they don't drag in anything gross."
Cloud huffed his frustration, but he did as ordered. "I hate this thing. Why would anyone wear this?"
"To dance in," Zack grinned, and the look Cloud gave him could have withered plants. Zack only laughed.
"Besides," Aerith added, also smiling now, "look at how pretty you look! Just like a princess!"
"I'm not a princess," Cloud snapped as he hiked up his skirt further, just to stop accidentally kicking it.
Zack's grin broadened. "If that's what you want, Princess Spikester."
"For fu… Zack!"
The Turk Lounge was silent and dead. The windows had been closed and the binds drawn, and the only light came from the dim lamp sitting crooked on the desk. It bathed the room in a sickly, blue-tinged glow, and the sounds of a pen scratching against paper filled in the oppressing silence.
Tseng's emotionless gaze flicked over the report. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure what to write, how to explain everything that had happened, and he rubbed his temples against the twinge of pain building there. So much had happened over the past week. Too much had happened: secretly rescuing Fair and Strife in the wastes; Strife being involved in the Avalanche reactor bombing; the bounty placed on Strifes head; Hojo's piqued interest in Strife. And that was all on top of their previous orders, such as their Wutai mission, his orders to watch the Ancient, and the plan to assassinate President Shinra using Fair. Not to mention Cissnei's odd behavior, and Elena's strange rivalry with the more experienced Turk…
Tseng pinched the bridge of his nose to stifle the incoming headache. There just were not enough hours in the day to monitor everything, and there were not enough people he could trust to carry out their orders and keep them confidential. After all, a majority of the Turks missions were highly confidential. A quarter of them were outright treason against Shinra. And as for the rest of it… well, he wasn't entirely sure what they were. A personal vendetta? Internal politics? Petty drama?
Tseng sure as hell didn't know and, simply put, this was the shortest report he had ever written. It was neat, concise, and summarized everything that wouldn't put him or his team in front of Scarlet's firing squad. In fact, he simply explained how the Turks responded to the bombing, how they planned to deal with Avalanche, and their progress thus far. As Fair and Strife had already been identified by security cameras, he also briefly noted that they were also continuing their search for Hojo's escaped Samples and continued to make progress. Everything else remained classified.
At least, that's what he would tell anyone who would ask. Yet, as he reread the report, there appeared to be something missing. He couldn't figure out what though, and as he debated whether or not he should elaborate any of the other points he had made, the phone rang. He was tempted to ignore it, tempted to simply let it ring into oblivion. But then he changed his mind; maybe a brief distraction would be good for him and freshen up his mind.
Yet when he saw the caller ID, his heart immediately sank.
"Reno?" he answered, leaning back in the office chair. A dull headache pulsed between his eyes. "This better be good news."
There was an audible grimace on the other end of the line, as well as the heavy beat of a bass guitar and high, feminine singing snaking through the heady melody. "Well, actually..."
Tseng felt a vein throb in his forehead. There were seven trillion nerves in the human body, and he was down to his very last one. "Are you at a club?" he asked.
"No!" Reno said quickly, then paused. "Well, at the Honeybee Inn… but you ordered us here!"
Tseng nearly snapped his pen. "I did not book the three of you a room so that you could party."
"I… I understand that, uh, Sir, but like..."
There was a sudden shuffle, as if the phone was being ripped away, and Rude's baritone interjected over Reno's protests, "There was an incident, and Fair escaped."
If Tseng was a less patient man, he might have broken something. His pen, for instance. Or someone's neck.
"Fair escaped?" he repeated, and quietly prayed to all the gods – both known and unknown – that he had misheard.
But he was not that fortunate, and Rude said, "Yes sir. Fair escaped, but we are in pursuit. It appears that he had the help of several honeygirls and honeyboys."
Tseng allowed himself to process this for a moment. "You mean to say," he said slowly "that you and Reno, two of the most highly-trained and decorated Turks to grace our department, were tricked by a group of dancers?"
There was a lengthy pause after he had finished. Then: "I apologize, sir. Reno and I are in pursuit now. We'll find him soon."
"Please," Tseng finished, and he abruptly hung up. The headache bloomed between his eyes and he pressed his fingers against his temple, massaging the now-throbbing ache.
He was just about to put some tea on the kettle – the perfect cure to his stress – when the door suddenly flew open, revealing a pink-cheeked Elena. Seeing him, her eyes brightened and she quickly closed the door behind her.
"There you are!" she said. Her shirt was untucked and dirt scuffed her shoes; she must have been searching the city for him while he had gone to visit Elmyra Gainsborough. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"
Tseng only began heating water, and patiently waited for her to continue.
"So earlier, I saw something pretty interesting," she reported, smoothing out all of the wrinkles in her suit top. Straightening, she continued, "It's Cissnei."
Of course it was, Tseng thought as the water began to bubble.
"She has been acting suspiciously, and I believe that she removed something out of storage," Elena continued without breath. "She was holding a very old PHS model and a worn charger. There were bloodstains on it too, and it didn't seem like it belonged to her. I believe that it belonged to one of the MIA or KIA operatives… no, KIA for sure," she amended after a pause. "Because of the blood."
The kettle began to whistle. "And why should I concern myself with that?" Tseng asked as he poured the steaming water into a mug.
"I'm just saying that it may be worth double checking the things in storage," she insisted. "Just to make sure. What if it's for Wutai? What if she's a spy?"
Tseng turned to her for the first time, surprise flickering through his gaze, but Elena's expression was completely, utterly serious. "That's a bold accusation," he said coolly.
"It is," Elena agreed, her tone just as hard. "But I am also a Turk, and fully believe that this is worth looking into."
Tseng watched her for a moment, took note of the tightness of her expression, the fire in her eyes, and he realized that Elena was utterly convinced that she was correct.
"I'll look into it," he promised. But his agreement wasn't only to placate her. Taking an item out of storage was highly unusual, especially as he suspected that Cissnei didn't have the correct credentials to take items out of storage. Of course, Elena could be mistaken, but at the same time…
"That's all I ask," Elena replied. She looked immensely pleased by this, and with a small bow, she left the Turk Lounge with her head held high and her strides long.
The moment she left, Tseng set aside his cup of tea and logged onto the nearest computer. He entered in his credentials, which carried the same weight as an admin, and began shifting through the storage security cameras.
He watched the feed for a few minutes, but Cissnei never appeared and he was about to drop the matter entirely. Yet just when he was about to exit out of the system, one of the cameras – a small one hidden in the corner – detected movement, and Cissnei appeared a second later. She wore her Turk uniform and her expression was steel as she strode purposefully through the room. It was obvious by the way she was weaving that she was avoiding all of the other security cameras, but she had clearly forgotten about the one Tseng now watched. The camera captured everything; it saw her stopping in front of the back, where the boxes of MIA and KIA Shinra employee belongings were stored, and then began shifting through them. It wasn't long before she found the one she wanted, and pulled it out of its shelf.
Tseng paused the feed here and zoomed in as close to the box's label as he could get, and then both sharpened and brightened the image.
The moment he read the label, his breath went taunt.
Zackary Fair, the label read.
Tseng leaned back in the chair, and the leather groaned beneath him. So Elena was correct, he realized, and Cissnei removed some of Fair's belongings. But why? To what purpose? He folded his hands beneath his chin, his eyes narrowed and lips pursed in question.
Unless…
His eyes narrowed a fraction.
Unless she knows where he is, and is delivering his things to him.
That led to an entirely new set of questions, but they went ignored as Tseng cut the feed, wiped the computer's history, and logged out before sharply rising to his feet. Cissnei had seemed to disapprove of the plan to use Fair to assassinate President Shinra… and now he wondered, Would she betray us over it? She had given her word that he could count on her, but now he couldn't help but think that maybe her word wasn't enough anymore. That maybe – just maybe – she had other priorities now.
Maybe she had even gone rogue.
The door swung on its hinges as Tseng left the Turk Lounge. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do, let alone where he was going, but he knew that he needed to do something. Anything. His team was falling apart, and he had to somehow pull it all back together before it irrevocably broke for good.
Meanwhile, his report lay on his desk, forgotten.
I am soooo curious as to what you all thought of the dancing scene (and the rest of the chapter of course, but mostly the dancing scene lol)?! I tried to stay true to the remake and probably listening to that entire dance at least 20 times while writing it haha. There was just so many different ways and directions I wanted to take it, but eventually settled on what you've just read - I know a lot of you were looking forward to the dance scene, so I hope I did it justice!?
Also, feel free to follow me on twitter (Rand0mSmil3z) for writing updates and previews! Links to my ko-fi and other books can be found there & and on my profile page as well, if you'd like to help support my work :) but there is absolutely no pressure at all to do so - if you're happy with the story so far, then I'm happy :) :) :)
