.

26. Legend: Confidante

Well this was another fine mess he'd gotten himself into.

How had that happened, by the way? The mess, that was. He was sure he hadn't meant to get so serious about Naifu. She was supposed to be a fun distraction, someone to break the monotony and jazz up the boring parts of his life. Even if they'd just stayed colleagues, or friends, 'serious' had definitely been off the agenda. Instead, here he was getting all maudlin and grim, his thoughts knotted with her at the centre.

You'd never guess to look at her. Legend never would have suspected she had anything in her past darker than the things she'd done as a Turk. She was too bubbly, too full of life. Yet when he'd been forced to hold her down so the medic could heal her damaged internal organs, to stop her from damaging them further, Legend had seen the contradictory evidence. You didn't get to look that way without a story the colour of pitch, and those scars hadn't come to her while she worked for Shinra. There were too many and they were too ... He would've known. Not even Shinra's arrogant bigwigs could have kept something like that quiet from the department that dealt specifically with secrets, lies and cover-ups.

And then there was what she'd cried out while only half-conscious. Legend had been shocked at the tears running down her cheeks and the sides of her head as she fought being pinned down. She'd struggled, but sedatives would have interfered with her 'natural rhythms', whatever they were, so the medic had been reluctant to use them.

"Mother!" she'd shrieked in such a panicky, grief-stricken voice that if he hadn't seen her talking, Legend would never have believed was hers. "Mother! Mother!"

"You forget everything you seen and heard here today," he'd ordered the medic when the guy left, using his best Deadly Turk Stare. Having only one eye came in handy when you wanted to look intimidating. People always wondered what you'd done to lose it, and their imaginations conjured better stories than he could make up, which was why he'd never told anyone the truth.

"I didn't do anything except heal a patient," the medic had said. "I'm not paid to do or remember more than that."

"Good."

Legend had watched over Naifu until she woke, wondering what to say when she did. There was something incredibly innocent about her when she was unconscious. He'd noticed it as she swung limply in his arms on the way back from the docks. Face smoothed by unconsciousness, she was the same as everybody else. She could've been any girl her age, even in the suit. Knowing she wasn't somehow made her seem even more vulnerable. She was tough but frail, strong but fragile. The moment he caught her and felt the thinness of her limbs beneath the fabric, an unnerving desire to protect had risen inside him like a mountaintop emerging from a cloudbank. Not because she was the great love of his life or anything soppy like that, but just because her guard had dropped, and she hadn't dropped it of her own accord. She'd been forced into a helpless position, and he didn't want the rest of the world to see that when she'd obviously spent a lot of time and effort working to hide it.

Damn it. Damn it all the hell and back.

He was in on a secret. Trouble was, he didn't want to be. This secret sucked.

It especially sucked because Naifu acted differently around him afterwards. He thought he'd bought himself a reprieve when she'd got dressed and they went down to Rod and Kakutou. She had decided it would be a brilliant idea to slide down the banister. Then she had run out to puke over the wall into his expensive swimming pool.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "That first step is a doozy. By the way, swimming? A really bad idea for anyone until that thing is cleaned."

It was a false reprieve. As soon as they touched down in Midgar, he realised just how false.

Naifu was different. She wasn't so eccentric. She seemed almost guarded, at least around him, which wasn't often anymore. Not that he could blame her for being cautious after what he'd seen, but it still rankled. What did she think he was going to do, broadcast it from a rooftop? It was insulting. It was offensive. It was … disappointing.

That was it. The way she looked at him afterwards, with a flicker of fear and suspicion, was disappointing. He'd thought they were on the level. Her reactions said otherwise. She didn't trust him. Maybe it was stupid to expect trust from a Turk, but the disrespect alone was galling. After she'd kicked up such a stink about being treated respectfully, not like a kid in their ranks, she couldn't be bothered to show the same courtesy to someone else?

Disappointment turned to anger, as Naifu orchestrated ways to avoid him, and either didn't speak to him, or acted like he was the enemy when they were forced to spend time together.

Eventually he had to corner her and bring it all into the open before he choked on his anger. He was taller, broader, and more muscled than her. It was easy enough to block the doorway when he found her alone in the Turk rec room.

"I haven't said a goddamn word," he said as an opening. "Now will you stop treating me like I'm gonna?"

She stared at him. For a second he thought she might deny knowledge of what was going on. Then her expression slammed shut and she stared down into her box of unappetising Wutaian take-out. At least she wasn't going to insult him again by playing dumb.

"You want to ask questions."

"But have I actually asked 'em?"

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. I can see it in your face every time you see me. You want to ask questions that I don't want to answer. I'm grateful for what you did on the Costa del Sol, but that mission changed … things."

"Changed what, exactly?"

"Stuff. Between you and me. It changed … stuff."

Oh for the love of– "Example?"

"You feel sorry for me."

"And you don't want pity." He rolled his one eye. "That's original."

The look she gave him was petulant. "Clichés get to be clichés for a reason, you know."

"Okay. So why, exactly, do you not want to be pitied?"

Another loaded silence. She glanced at the door, but he'd kicked it shut. The privacy wasn't much, but it was enough to loosen her tongue. "Because when people pity you, it's because they see you as less than them. If they feel sorry for you, they're automatically putting themselves on some sort of moral high ground, where they think they have a right to treat you like you're weak."

"Oh, give me a break."

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't know what I'm talking about. Nobody ever pitied you."

"You know that for a fact, do you?"

She blinked at him. He'd caught her on the back foot with that one. He pressed his advantage.

"Enlighten me."

"I've been through too much to go backwards. I fought to get where I am today. I went through …" Her eyes flickered. "A lot."

"Define 'a lot'."

"Hell."

"That's not a definition, that's a synonym."

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. "You want details? That'll just make you pity me more. Don't you get it, Legend? I want to be treated like everyone else. I earned that. I'm not giving it up now. Just like I earned the right not be treated like some worthless kid."

"That's a crock of shit. I've been treating you the same. You're the one who's acting different."

"What is this, one-upmanship?"

"This is me being sick and tired of you acting like a goddamn kid when I've shown you more consideration than you deserve."

She glared at him. He'd never seen her glare that way before. There was a hint of disgust in it. For some reason that bothered him, but he stood his ground.

"You think you got the right to demand respect as an adult when you act like a kid?" he asked.

"I haven't been a kid in a long time."

"You're sure as hell acting like one."

Her eyes flashed. He could practically hear her self-control straining. She'd telegraphed her Achilles' heel to him as a colleague, and he was using it against her now as a ... oh bugger.

"I've killed people."

He pulled back from defining the difference between colleagues, friends and the No Man's Land between. "Kids can kill people."

"You've seen for yourself that I'm –" She broke off. "I'm not a kid," she finished through gritted teeth. Talk about a broken record. And other broken things.

Legend waited a moment before saying, "So quit acting like one. And quit treating me like some schoolyard bully with something to hold over you. I don't have any reason to hurt you." He said it meaningfully. Bugger the consequences. He wanted things to get back to normal.

"Yeah, this week."

"Thanks. Nice to know you think so highly of me."

She looked away, embarrassed.

"Everybody's got a past, Sureshot. Everybody's got stuff they wanna keep hush-hush."

"I know that."

"I ain't your enemy. I ain't out to get you. I ain't trying to hurt you."

"You ain't good at grammar either." She tried to smile. It cut about as much ice as a hacksaw made of cottage cheese. "I know all that too." The words came out in a sigh.

Something about her deflated, folding in on itself and making her appear smaller. Suddenly she was just as vulnerable and defenceless as she'd been when she was bleeding in his arms on the Costa del Sol. The same desire to protect that had emerged then emerged within him now as well.

Legend shook it off. Or tried to.

"The suit's useful," Naifu said quietly. "Covers a lot. Nobody questions the suit. Nobody questions Turks who wear their suits."

He didn't say anything.

"I'm … sorry."

He waited. No answers came, but the apology was genuine. Naifu wasn't deceptive, she was just queen of omission.

"Okay," he said finally. Then he snatched the box of takeout from her hands and tossed it into the trash. "I thought I told you to stop eating this crap."

She blinked at him. Embers glowed back to life in her eyes. "So what am I supposed to eat?"

It didn't escape him that food was turning into their way of finishing uncomfortable conversations. "Something actually edible?"

"Example? Because when you have your first break in hours, and you're short on time but big on hunger, options are limited. I don't have time for experimenting when I'm hungry."

He pulled her to her feet. "I know a place that makes the best shish-kebabs and does deliveries."

"Shish-kebabs? Those things that double as food and weapons?"

"Watch and learn, grasshopper."

….