"What the hell is that?"

"Sapphire Weapon. It attacked Junon while Tifa and Barret where supposed to be executed. You didn't see it from the ship?"

"I was in the belly of the beast. There are more Weapons, aren't there?"

"Yes."

"How the hell are we going to stop them?" I sigh, shaking my head. "Especially with Cloud the way he is now."

"We'll be alright. Cid has it under control."

"You're three people short." I straighten, crossing my arms. "You'd better think of some other way to help them. And quick—I'm not supposed to be here."

"I'll figure it out." Reeve tugs at his beard, looking up at me. "Why don't you go home? It's getting late."

"Okay." I start toward his door, though I stop after a few steps. "Are you going home, too?"

"In a few minutes, yes."

"Okay."

"May I ask why you're concerned?"

"Just wanted to make sure you're not killing yourself," I tease, opening his office door. "Goodnight, Reeve."

"Goodnight."

I close the door behind me softly, hurrying away from his door. The hallways are dark and bland, empty. Silent. A voice rips a startled gasp from my throat.

"I was about to call you."

"Gods, Ru—Sir." I press a hand to my heart, feeling it pound against my ribs as I turn to face him. "You scared me."

"Pay more attention to your surroundings." Rufus eyes me coldly, tugging at his gloves. "Come to my office."

Oh shit.He didn't skip the email, did he? Makes me wonder what Marx put in the subject line. Something like "Urgent News: your dumb bitch employee is causing problems for you again" maybe. I can see it. The walk is stuffed with silence, threatening to burst by the time the door closes behind me. Rufus heads all the way up to his enormous desk but he doesn't sit. Instead, he types something into his computer and clicks around while he waits for me to stand before him. Finally, he straightens, hands clasped behind his back and sharp eyes looking me up and down.

"How are you feeling?"

"What?" I frown, taken off guard.

He raises an eyebrow. "I heard you've been sick."

"Oh, um, yeah. I'm fine."

"Good." Rufus takes a deep breath, turning to stare at the towering windows that reflect the office right back at us. There's no looking outside. It's a cage of mirrors where I can see us from all angles. It's suffocating.

"What did you need me for?"

"I wanted to…" His voice trails off and he shakes his head. "No, I'm not beating around the bush."

"Sorry?"

He brushes a paper aside, watching it move with his eyes narrowed. "Kat, do you know how many illegitimate children my father had?"

"N-no?" I stammer, confused. So he does know. "I'm sorry, sir, I—"

"Two. Both sons." He shakes his falling hair out of his eyes and looks up at me. "Perhaps you remember Director Lazard."

"The director of SOLDIER?"

"Yes. His mother was a slum woman." Rufus puffs out a dry laugh and hangs his head. "And Evan… He was the secretary's."

"I—" I stop myself, not sure what to say. Why's he telling me this?

"And now, here I am." My heart begins to sink. He's comparing himself to his father again. Does he think he's…? He presses his lips together, hands pressed to the surface of his desk. "Slum-scum."

"Sir—"

"Cut the formalities for a moment," he sighs, falling into his seat and staring hard at his computer screen.

"Fine. Rufus, I don't understand what you're getting at."

"No?" He sits straighter, folding his fingers together on top of his desk. He's clearly not here to listen to me deny the truth, but he refuses to let this last any longer than it has to whether I drag my feet or not. I chew on the inside of my cheek, fidgeting. I don't want to hear this, but I don't have much choice. "I received news from Marx today. It seems your pregnant."

"And you think you're…?"

"Yes." Rufus takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look at me. His eyes are laced with enough bitterness to kill a citrus orchard. "Kat, do you remember anything about the circumstances of that night?"

"The circumstances of…?" I frown, confused. He stares for a moment longer and I realize what he means. "Oh! Right, sorry." Blushing, I cross my arms. "No, I mean, I remember some of it."

"That's… not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

For once, Rufus looks uncomfortable. If we weren't talking about this, I might've smiled at his uneasiness. Clearly, he still hasn't come to terms with what happened. "There were moments when caution was thrown aside in favor of… other things."

"Oh." Suddenly, I feel sick. I don't know what I expected. It was either Reno or Rufus—it's unsettling to know that it's the latter. What do I tell Re?

"You're the only one who can vouch for the validity of that theory, though." Rufus stands, turning back to the windows. "I don't particularly want to know about what you and Reno do in your free time."

"No, you—" The words catch in my throat, refusing to come out. You're right. I could stand here and lecture him about how he should've been careful with the state I was in, but what's the use? It's my fault, too. "Is that all you wanted me for?"

"I suppose. Just a reminder."

"Reminder?" Is this where you tell me to leave?

"Yes. No one is to know. That child, whether we like it or not, is mine."

"Yours…" I whisper, frowning. Mine.

He can't take them.

If he tries, he's as good as dead.

Ours.

Yours.

Mine.

I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut. Rufus cocks his head to the side, standing.

"Did that upset them?"

"Yeah."

"Does it upset you?" I open my eyes to see him watching me, cold as ever. When I don't answer, he shrugs. "I don't care. Facts are facts, Kat."

"It's not yours, Rufus."

"Would you rather I say ours?"

"… No." I take a deep breath and lean my head forward, rocking back and forth on my toes. "I'd rather you leave me alone."

"And if these were other circumstances, I might. Unfortunately, illegitimate or not, that child is entitled to—"

"They don't have to know."

Rufus raises an eyebrow and I start fidgeting again. "After all this time you've spent suffering from the secrets of your past, you'd do the same to your own child?"

"… Marx says my condition can be passed down through my genes. You want a person like me in power?"

"We'll worry about that when we get there."

"Rufus, this is twenty years in the future!"

"No, it's not. This is now and this is my decision. You can do what you like, but you cannot deny the truth."

I shift my weight back and forth between my feet, staring at the floor. I'm angry, I'm afraid, and I'm anxious, but he's right. I can't do anything about it. He can't do anything about it. Powerful people are bound by their rules and formalities. I miss the days of simplicity. What the fuck am I supposed to tell Reno?

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

Rufus sighs, closing out the email on his computer. "Not yet. Heidegger is another issue I have to handle on my own."

"He wouldn't want me working?"

"He'd want you removed in a less than optimal manner." The president brushes his hair out of his eyes and wanders closer to me. "He's not been very secretive that he was the first and loudest advocate for your execution."

"My execution?" I repeat. "When the hell were you planning on executing me?"

Rufus's frown deepens. "Twelve years ago. I had nothing to do with it. You don't remember?"

"I know that I…" I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to piece the tidbits I have together. "I know that Tseng wanted me executed—everyone called him the 'bad man' that wanted me dead. And I know that I was put in the hospital so that I wouldn't be punished, but Heidegger? I have no idea."

"Hm. Well, he did."

"Why did he care?"

"You made him look like a fool."

"How?" My eyebrows are so tightly knit together that they might as well be touching. It's frustrating enough that I can't remember what I've done. The fact that Rufus expects me to be caught up at this point makes it even harder. "I was, what, twelve years old? I don't even know what I did."

"Then think about it, Kat." Rufus returns to his pompous attitude, eyebrow raised ever so slightly and eyes sharply judging every movement I make. "Do research on what you remember. It won't be hard to figure out."

"And what if I don't want to?"

"If you want to remain in the dark, you can. If this is for Marx…" He sighs, cocking his head to the side. "Then forget it. His results are born from a villainous study no one has business participating in, much less becoming a prisoner to. I know what he's done, and he holds no power over you."

"That's nice and all, but it's not true. He could erase everything I've recovered whether I want it or not." I shake my head, leaning my weight on my left hip. "He… says he's doing it to right his wrongs, but it really just boils down to selfishness yet again."

"Then why participate?"

"I…" I huff, not quite sure how to explain. "I guess… I feel like I owe him the chance. Tseng gave me another go, and I'd say things are going alright."

"This isn't the same."

"No?" I scoff, leaning forward and pressing my hands to the outer edge of his desk, forcing myself to look at him. "Rufus, I've killed kids. I shot some guy named Carlos in the hallway downstairs for teasing me. I'm pretty sure I killed my own family. Where does that leave me compared to Marx?"

Rufus doesn't react to my words in the slightest, waiting until I'm finished speaking. "You didn't force anyone to suffer. You never once lied about your intentions. Marx could say neither of those things applied to him."

"It doesn't mat—"

"But it does. If you held half the charges over your head that Marx does, you would not be here."

"Why does a charge matter? All my crimes were—"

"Cleared, as were his. An event can be erased from a record and still have occurred." Rufus glances up when the guards crack the door open. "Not now."

"The doctor wants to—"

"What doctor?"

"Tyler Marx, sir."

Rufus sighs, motioning for him to shut the door. When the latch clicks, he turns back to me. "Take the time to search. No one will know unless either of us says something."

I tear my eyes away to stare at his desk, afraid to speak. I can't stop the words from coming out, though. "… Reno knows." Rufus closes his eyes, frustrated.

"How?"

"He took one of the results pages Marx gave me."

"… I'll speak to him."

"I think it's better if you don't say—"

"I don't care what you think, Kat." He jerks his head toward the door. "Now go. I need to speak to Marx."

"Rufus—"

"Go."

Huffing, I turn on my heels and head toward the door. First, he calls me here to tell me that this baby is, without a doubt, his. Then, he encourages me to look deeper into a past that he knows I'm afraid of, and that's after his pep talk about freedom. What the hell is happening to you, Rufus? I don't look up at Marx when he passes by, refusing to acknowledge his greeting. What happens if I dig, though? Do I lose my shit? Or is it incredibly underwhelming? I shake my head, pushing my way into Reno's apartment and ignoring his bitching about me scaring him. Guess there's only one way to find out.