The whirling of the rotary blades of the helicopter I sit in is a comforting, familiar roar in my ears. Members of an initial combat team, that had been sent to secure a bunker located in the northern region of the Mythril mountain range, fill the benches along both sides of the airborne carrier. The dark blue of my suit stands out in sharp relief against the backdrop of grey uniforms and red berets.

One step forward and two steps back is to be the theme.

The previous night had drawn to a close in an extremely unsatisfactory manner, Tuesti once again completely in the driver's seat even as he sat on the passenger side while I drove him home, agreeable and polite and as real as any of the various lifelike automatons he builds. He had declined my offer to walk him to his door, swiftly bid me goodnight and got out of the car, striding to the entrance of the high-rise apartments without a single look back. Banishing how ridiculously offended I felt at the slight had been difficult, but I managed as I headed to the sparsely furnished condo I keep rented in Edge. I can easily afford it and my distaste of hotels has always been great, but now with the Turks an even more attractive target for terrorists and revolutionaries, two terms that are interchangeable in my mind, setting up proper security in a temporary residence is a nightmare. We had jested about the matter, but if the Commissioner is attacked in my presence, it will likely be because of my presence, and I am not pleased with the sense of guilt that has curled up in what vaguely passes as a conscience.

I will not feel guilty for endangering him, not when he is maneuvering me about the board like a pawn. I was pledging myself to him within minutes, all because of a little artful fragility.

That I had fallen for it grates on my pride. The man's greatest strength is not his remarkable intellect, but his ability to make others underestimate him despite the numerous manifestations of intelligence and competence. I am now convinced that all of the demonstrations of weakness on his part were fabricated, with the sole question remaining being what he actually intends to do with me, his innuendoes aside, and the possibilities are nearly endless and disquieting. I am tempted to operate under the impression he has offered that his aims are carnal in nature, simplifying the situation considerably, but to believe he has suddenly decided to start attending to his own personal needs would be foolish. This leaves me to ponder how I could possibly benefit him, aside from the obvious ways in which I am already used openly, and doesn't involve betraying President Shinra and my Turks.

Is that it? Is the blade set to fall between the Shinra Corporation and the WRO? Is he testing the strength of my loyalty and seeking a potential flaw to exploit?

My loyalty is unwavering, there is no chance I will be turned knowingly against my own, but I have become careless in other ways, particularly of late, and I cannot allow myself to assume the timing is coincidental.

But would he do that? Would he actually try to make someone fall for him in order to control them?

Fear trails icy tendrils down my back and I shiver, glad that the cold of the dawn air over the mountains explains away the motion. I have long considered Tuesti to be of high moral fiber, especially given his habit of taking risks to do the 'right' thing, and perhaps he is in comparison to myself and many others, but all people change over time and circumstance.

If the stakes were high enough, he would. Power corrupts everyone. There are no exceptions to the rule.

I lack enough information to determine anything concrete on the matter and speculation can be treacherous on its own, so I will my thoughts to focus on the surface reason for why I am here, which is of no small importance. The disappearance of the Materia is alarming, not in the least due to a certain theory the specialists in the field have, that a large amount of mastered Materia could be combined into what would essentially be a Huge Materia. It is referred to as a theory in public, when I know for a fact that actual research and testing is being carried out in secret by a supposedly independent company, a front for the involvement of both Shinra and the WRO. This company was of course the first recipient of thorough investigation, but no breach has been detected. The very absence of evidence regarding an undertaking of this scale confirms that the WRO has been infiltrated by a hostile entity to an extent far beyond what I had previously suspected, and more than justifies my participation in person. I have several undercover Turks working within the organization, some even the Commissioner may not be aware of, but their efficacy is understandably limited by the need to maintain their concealment.

Tuesti is keeping his cards too close to his chest this time. I won't settle for being a stalking-horse.

The pilot's voice comes on over the intercom, announcing that we have reached the city limits of Edge, and a few cheers are called out and talk of impending off-duty activities rises to battle the mechanical thunder in the cavernous space.


When I arrive at the headquarters, I take it in stride that it is one of my own camouflaged operatives who informs me that the Commissioner wishes to meet with me in a different location within the compound and not his office. As the only constant has been attempts to throw me off balance, I gratefully welcome back the mantle of expecting nothing and everything. The Turk leads me to a door and departs without a word, and I enter into what appears to be a lounge, tastefully decorated and by far the most lavish room I have encountered in the WRO. If my guard had not already been up, it would have snapped into place instantly from the setting alone. Tuesti is reclined on a sofa, a pensive expression on his face, which may or may not be an affectation, and I walk to a similar couch across from him and sit down.

He glances up and flashes a warm smile. "This… should be a safe place to talk, for now."

I nod to show my understanding that not even his office is free from prying eyes and that our privacy might still be compromised, and then launch into a concise report on failing to find any association between the stash of contraband Materia located in the Mythril Mountains and the stolen master Materia, something he has no doubt already received remote transmitted reports on.

"I had been afraid of that," he responds when I conclude, as though this is the first he has heard of it, but then manages to surprise me by casually asking, "Is there a reason why you are wasting our time?"

"'Wasting our time'?" I repeat back at him slowly. "Are you dropping the charade, then? How would you like me, Commissioner?" I motion with my head in the direction of the floor before him and taunt in a sardonic tone, "On my knees there, with my lips around your cock?"

He laughs softly, actually laughs, and my hands clench together tightly, the knuckles turning white from the pressure, where they are folded neatly in my lap.

"You're mad at me." He searches my face, still appearing amused.

"No," I reply evenly.

"You are, and you have every right to be." The amusement leeches from him and he looks away briefly, then back solemnly. "I apologize."

"For?"

"You have no intention of making this easy, do you?"

"No."

He is now visibly fighting to keep from laughing again and my ire skyrockets in response, that he would find my anger so hilarious. I am also angry for being angry, when I honestly had not been until he insisted that I was.

He knows precisely how to push my buttons. I should run for Junon and not look back, leave his plots for me and this mess of his own making to himself.

But I can't and I know it. My vows the other day may have been misguided but are no less true now than they were then, and jeopardizing my safety, compromising my ethics, having my actions influenced as surely as a puppet dangling from strings, is nothing compared to his continuing wellbeing.

But that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it, and I would cherish the opportunity to go back in time simply to slap that smug look I had had off of my face.

"I apologize for leaving you so abruptly last night. You deserved better." He has mastered his expression and seems appropriately abashed. "It was more a matter of self-preservation, actually, as I didn't trust what may have happened had I let you come up, or even… if I had given you the goodbye you did deserve."

I smile unpleasantly after a few beats of silence and state impassively, "I don't believe a word you just said and I'm not sure I ever will again."

He flinches and recoils slightly, a wounded cast to his face that steadily fades to a careful blankness, before saying, completely devoid of emotion, "You're perfect."

With a sneer, I retort sharply, "I know."

Humming musingly, his eyes trace over my features almost idly, obviously deep in thought, and I wonder if he is truly struggling with some decision. When he focuses on my mouth, not straying long enough for it to become apparent, I resist the urge to scoff and roll my eyes. Even though I have steeled myself for anything I had thought him capable of, it feels like the wind has been knocked from me, like a physical blow, as he quietly voices another question.

"Would you enjoy hurting me?" He is still staring at my mouth and it is distracting now.

"No. Yes. I don't know. Damn you," I hiss the last, because that simple query has aroused me with a flash to my nerves that is sudden, unexpected, and most importantly, unwanted. I close my eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"You're not."

"No, I am," he asserts firmly, and I want to believe him. "I keep screwing up with you, Tseng, and have from the moment you arrived. I thought I knew what I wanted, that I was certain of what I was trying to do, but… either I don't really know you… or I don't really know myself."

"Maybe both," I respond and open my eyes to the sight of him nodding slowly. "I don't trust you."

"You shouldn't, but you did, and now I have broken that trust."

I have nothing to say to that ambivalently spoken admission, because it is true and I have had enough of the games for the time being, as he has played with my emotions and my expectations too much in too short a duration. I have never been adept at controlling how I feel, only how I behave and respond to what I feel, and the difference between the two abilities is vast. My thoughts are chasing themselves in circles and I soothe them as much as I am able to, before returning my attention to Tuesti.

Finally, I breathe in deeply, hold the air in my lungs for a spell, and then gradually release it. My gaze had drifted down to his shoulder during my ruminations and I raise it back up to meet his own. "What is it you think you want?"

"Last night, at the diner…" He trails off, his eyes darting between my own. "You won't believe this."

"I asked," I reprimand sternly.

"Yes, but…" After a pause, he shakes his head almost violently and continues, "Fine. What I want, or what I think I want, is for that to be real. That rapport, that comradery, that…" He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. "I want you to be my friend. A real friend, that is."

"You want me to be your friend," I draw out slowly.

"Yes."

"You were right. I don't believe you."

"I know." He smiles sadly, but it is fleeting, and then the warmth and charm of his usual countenance reappears to radiate like magic. "So, may we focus on something we might both be able to agree on?"

"And that is?" I ask with open skepticism.

"Why, the fact that the WRO is currently coming down around my ears and what we can do to stop it."