Chapter Seven: Invasion of Privacy

Elena stood outside the door with a keycard clutched in her hand, staring down at it and turning it over in her hand as she built up her nerve. It wasn't just any keycard she held, after all. It was Tseng's. And she was about to enter his quarters at Junon Harbor.

Because of his high rank and how often he traveled, Tseng had a permanent apartment on the base, whereas the rest of the Turks were assigned random rooms in the Officer's Barracks during their stays. His room was located on the top residential floor, where the highest ranking military officers and other Shin-ra officials lived along with their families. It was a far cry from the dimly lit, spartan accommodations provided to the lower ranks, and she couldn't help but look around in awe. Maybe someday, she would be living this way, too.

She had been sent to Tseng's quarters to retrieve some clothing and personal items for him, since he was now alert enough to complain about his state of undress and the fact that he was cold. She doubted he could get a shirt over his thick bandaging and knew he couldn't dress himself, but she dutifully took his keycard and the list a nurse had written down for him without question. If it made him happy, she would do it. Besides, whether Reno was currently in charge or not, Tseng was still her boss as far as she was concerned.

She took a deep breath and finally swiped the card, scolding herself for being foolish as a green light flashed its acceptance and the lock clicked open. She slowly stepped inside and shut the door behind her, fumbling for the light switch and flicking it on. There she paused, feeling guilty and very out of place. It seemed wrong somehow, to invade his private sanctuary when he wasn't present. Yet at the same time, she was extremely curious as she began to look around. She had never been to his quarters before, either there or his actual home in Midgar, and she was a bit excited by the opportunity. It wasn't quite the same as an invitation, but still.

Tseng's quarters were a one room studio apartment, small but more than adequate for a single person who stayed there on a very limited basis. Inside the door to the right was a small round table and chairs, a dark grey leather couch and coffee table along the wall a bit farther into the room. The furniture was tasteful but not overstated, much as she would have expected. There was a small television across from the couch, placed atop a wide bookshelf, and a half-wall with a counter divided the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. The far side of the unit contained a bed and night table, as well as a long, low dresser. There was a closet and what she assumed was the bathroom making up the far wall, along with the apartment's only window. A recliner and floor lamp were set on an angle in the corner.

She glanced down at the list and awkwardly made her way farther into the room, carefully taking in her surroundings. Part of it was out of habit from her training as a Turk, but she admitted with a blush that much of her curiosity was more personal. She had worked for Tseng for some time now, often quite closely, yet she still knew so little about him. He held his cards so close to his chest, and gave so little away, that she wondered if anyone really knew him. She reflected yet again on why he was so private and reserved… why he kept himself so closed off and worked so hard to remain an unknown entity. Was it simply because of his position of authority, or something more? Her lack of knowledge had done nothing to discourage her interest in him, however, and had in fact only made it more intense. There was just something about him.

The apartment was very clean, and she noticed there were almost no personal effects. The table was bare, as was the coffee table aside from a single remote control. The carpeting was the standard issue cream color used throughout the base, and the walls were an off white and almost entirely blank. There was a painting hanging above the leather couch, however, and she paused to study it. She quickly recognized it as the capital city of Wutai during a storm, wondering why he'd chosen something so gloomy. It was an impressive painting, and she tried and failed to make out the artist's signature.

Though Tseng was not currently well enough to sit up and read, Elena figured she would take him a few books for when he was able. He was bound to get bored, after all. Wondering what Tseng liked to read in his spare time, she approached the bookshelf and crouched down, her eyes scanning the shelves. She quickly realized it was pointless, as nearly every volume was written in Wutaiian. They remained as unknown to her as he was.

He reads in his native language… Why is that so damn attractive?

Elena blushed and shook her head, blindly choosing several books and hoping they were something interesting. She added a history book written in Universal just in case. She stared at the foreign script on the covers for a moment before setting them down on the coffee table, moving across the apartment toward the bedroom area.

Her eyes were drawn to the queen sized bed, which had a tall oak headboard with a bit of decorative carving around the edges. It was the quilt that most caught her attention, however. It was a beautiful deep blue silk, adorned with an intricate hand stitched pattern. It appeared to have been made in Wutai, and Elena approached and ran her hand along the fabric. It was as soft as it looked, and the thoughts that briefly flashed through her mind colored her face scarlet. Gods, why did she keep doing that…

Tearing her eyes and her mind away from his bed, she glanced down at the list again and frowned. It contained mostly clothing items, and she looked up at the closet and dresser. The idea of going through his clothes was incredibly awkward, but she knew she had to do it. Elena told herself to view it as just another assignment, hoping that would make it easier and less embarrassing. She was certain he was less than thrilled about it himself.

She approached the closet first and pulled it open, her eyes running down a line of near identical dark suits and other dress clothing. She frowned, deeming them inappropriate and uncomfortable for his current condition. She pushed aside suit after suit until she found a few more casual button down shirts, one a silken material and another a very soft cotton. He might be able to wear them unbuttoned over the bandaging and at least be able to cover his shoulders and back, she thought, removing them from the closet. She next eyed a deep green shirt with a faint pattern on it and added it to the pile, unable to help but think of how handsome he'd looked the time she'd seen him wear it.

This is so weird… I'm dressing my boss.

She located a few pairs of track pants he must have used for working out or lounging at home and added them to the pile, not about to have him laying around in the hospital in stiff slacks. He was already in so much pain, and she wanted him to be comfortable whether he liked it or not. He was always so formal, and she longed to see what he was like when he relaxed and dropped his guard. If he ever did… What was he like when he clocked out and closed the door behind him at the end of the day? It was a question she'd been asking herself almost since the day she met him, and she still didn't have a clue. He didn't even seem to actively hide the information or need to avoid questions… He was simply a mystery, an enigma she was desperate to solve. She wondered if he was ever lonely, if he ever wished he had a more normal life and someone special to share it with. And if he did, did he ever consider…?

She shook her head and sighed, setting the clothing down on the bed and cringing at the next item. Of course… He'd need underwear as well. Elena flushed and giggled aloud, feeling like a nervous school girl. Gods, never in her wildest dreams did she think she'd be going through Tseng's underwear drawer! She approached the dresser and took a guess, opening the top right drawer. She stood and stared down at the pile of neatly folded silk boxer shorts in a variety of dark colors, more than just her face growing hot. Well, now she knew the answer to that mystery at least. She quickly grabbed a few pair and hid them between the shirts and pants, relieved to be finished the task. Her mind, however, continued to conjure up mental images she didn't try all that hard to banish. She may have been a Turk, but she was also still a woman. She quickly located a few pair of socks in the drawer beneath before moving away.

At the bottom of the list were two final items. They were prescription medications, she realized, and Elena raised an eyebrow. For some reason, the thought of Tseng needing such a thing seemed strange. He was so strong and steady, and he'd never missed a day of work during her time under his command until now. She had no idea what the medications were for, but the note said they were on the kitchen counter.

She entered the small kitchen area and quickly spotted an orange prescription bottle and a thin tan zipper case with a matching label affixed to it sitting beside the coffee maker. She picked up the bottle first and read the label, now unable to pronounce both Tseng's surname and the name of the medication. After reading the instructions, however, she realized it was a preventative for chronic migraines. Her eyes widened with surprise, and she picked up the case beside it.

"Oh wow," she said aloud. "These are injections…" Inside the case were six individual self-contained needles, which he could use to inject himself at the onset of a sudden migraine. Elena had no idea he suffered from the severe headaches, just one more thing he expertly hid from everyone he worked with. How did he manage that, with as many missions as they'd been on together? They'd been forced to spend days together in uncomfortable and cramped conditions, yet she'd never seen him take a pill… although now that she thought about it, he did sometime squint as if the light bothered his eyes, and at times he would frown and rub his temples.

As she gathered the medication and left the kitchen, she was suddenly reminded of a day when she had entered Tseng's office after knocking once and opening the door, since it was left open half way. She'd found him lying on the couch, and he'd bolted up quickly as if he might have been asleep. His eyes were heavy and he seemed a bit groggy, quickly apologizing and saying something about a headache. So she had witnessed one of his migraines… she'd just dismissed it as unimportant at the time and forgotten about it. She felt guilty somehow, that she'd overlooked one of the rare moments he'd shown her his human side. Maybe he really was like everyone else, and had weaknesses and problems of his own he was simply better at keeping covered. How she wished she had the courage to simply talk to him, though she wasn't sure he'd be willing to say much. Tseng was her boss. He wouldn't be interested in being her friend, much less… She sighed heavily and bit her lower lip, gathering up the items and heading for the door. Mission accomplished.

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Tseng was lying in bed staring at the ceiling again, a sight that was growing frustratingly familiar. There wasn't much else to see in the small hospital room, he assumed, but he wished he could at least turn his head a bit more and look around. He could manage to tilt it just a bit to the side if he really concentrated, mostly to his right. It seemed his injury began below his left shoulder, and he could not move that arm at all. He realized it had been strapped down to the bed to hold it in place for the IV, which made sense. It didn't mean he liked it, though.

He longed to be able to get out of bed, or to at least pick up a PHS and find out what was going on within his department. He knew Rufus had sent Reno and Rude out on an important and top secret assignment, likely to finish what he had failed to do, and he was gravely concerned for their safety. Tseng doubted they had been given all the information they needed about just what they were after and who they were up against, but he could never quite think clearly enough for long enough to voice his concerns to Elena, and it may well have already been too late to stop the events that had been set in motion. His thoughts remained clouded and confused, jumping between one idea and another before fading back into pain and oblivion. He would try to speak but the words wouldn't come, and it left him incredibly frustrated. What kind of leader was he, lying there useless when so much was going on that could possibly endanger the entire world?

Tseng remained conscious for perhaps half an hour at a time now from his estimates, based on the activity in the corridor outside his room and things Elena and the nurses had said. He knew it was his fifth day in the hospital, and that everyone was astounded that he had survived his wounds and was as alert as he was. When he managed to remember more of what happened, and the way his blood had poured through his fingers… the sight of his innards showing through his torn shirt that he knew he'd never cleanse from his mind… he realized he was, too. Tseng had never given much thought to his own mortality before. He'd always assumed there was a good chance he would die in the line of duty, and it was something he had long ago accepted. Yet when the time came and he saw his life draining away onto the temple floor, he was surprised to find that he wasn't ready to accept his fate.

What kind of life had he lived, he'd wondered as he grew weak and lightheaded on the ground, struggling for breath as he managed to send an emergency message to his fellow Turks. He'd long ago severed all ties with his family and homeland, and his existence had been made up of little else but his job. What was he leaving behind? Would anyone care when he was gone? And why did it suddenly matter?

Now that he was reasonably certain he was not going to die, he was confused by his reaction. Was it simply a moment of weakness from a dying man, or something far deeper? It was so difficult to think around the constant burning agony in his chest, a pain the high doses of morphine could only dull temporarily. Tseng was not a stranger to suffering, and had endured plenty of uncomfortable situations and injuries in his years as a Turk, but nothing could compare to the constant agony in his chest and abdomen. He didn't complain, because he knew there was no point, and his honor would not allow it. Eventually a nurse would arrive and give him another dose of medication, or ask him if he needed one, and he would simply nod wordlessly and wait for the warm blanket of relief to wash over him. He wished he could have refused, but he would have gone insane. He'd even dreamed about his mother the night before, and he hadn't spared her a passing thought in years. Was he really going to be reduced to wanting his momma because of an injury? Pathetic.

As if on cue, a young nurse he had seen once or twice before entered the room and began checking the monitors and his IV without even looking at him. Tseng's eyes were wide open and following her movements, and he frowned with annoyance. He was tired of many of the staff treating him like an object, speaking about him like he was not there and telling him very little about his condition and what they were doing. It was humiliating enough that he could do nothing for himself, that these people were bathing him, changing him, and taking care of his every necessity. They could have at least acknowledged that he was a human being who was suffering and unhappy with his predicament and treated him with a bit more dignity. Tseng despised being helpless more than anything, and he laid there fuming as the woman quickly gave him his medication and hurried away. The head nurse… Becky, was it?… was different, at least. He was even aware of her speaking to him when he was half asleep. His doctor, too, was kind and respectful, and had been by to give him a detailed report on his condition in the morning that his tired and drugged mind had struggled to comprehend. He'd been thankful Elena was there as well, so that he could ask her questions later.

He admitted that he missed Elena as he struggled to glance toward the door, wincing at the sharp pain in his shoulder and quickly abandoning the effort. She had left a short time ago with his keycard and list of belongings he needed from his part time quarters on the base. That, too, made him uneasy. The idea of his young Turk visiting his private quarters and going through his belongings made him extremely uncomfortable. He had nothing to hide, and there was really very little he kept at Junon Harbor, but Tseng was an extremely private man. It made him feel vulnerable and exposed, especially in front of her. She even had to retrieve clean underwear for him, for gods' sake! He felt his cheeks color and sighed, scolding himself for being ridiculous. It was a simple necessity, and he had assigned her to the task as one of his staff. It was nothing more, and she would handle it with the professionalism of a Turk. He was tired of lying there shirtless in bandages and nothing but thin hospital pajama bottoms and paper socks, and knew that having some of his own clothing would make him feel less ashamed whether he could put them on himself or not. His head had also begun to pound with the beginnings of a migraine, and Dr. Welsh had wanted to see what he was taking for it. He would be sure to swear Elena to secrecy on that detail. One in a position such as his should never allow even the most minor of weaknesses to become public knowledge.

In the back of his mind, Tseng knew he missed her past his desire to have his own belongings in a cold and foreign place. As much as he was loathe to admit it, her presence had been a comfort to him since he'd woken up. She was a distraction from the pain, and just the fact that she sat at his bedside made coping far easier. There was someone on the Planet who cared and wanted to be there for him, and it made him even more determined to heal. The fact that it was her, well… he tried not to think about that. He'd never wanted her to see him in such a condition, however, and he was going to make certain he was soon back on his feet and as invincible as she seemed to think he was. Then maybe he could think more clearly about what it was about her that left him so intrigued and confused.

((Author's Notes: You know you'd snoop through his stuff way more than that! Hehe. Kind of just a bridge chapter here… I wanted Elena to get a bit of a look into Tseng's "out of work" environment, even though these quarters are not really his home. And of course I wanted to express what is going through Tseng's mind while he's lying there hurting and frustrated with his condition. There's just so little written about how his mind works… As we'll see, though, the better he gets physically, the more annoyed he gets with his situation. Everyone may soon want to sedate him again! Next chapter, we'll get an update from good old Doctor Welsh and see what his prognosis is now, and what Tseng thinks about his chances of going back to work or not. Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! ~ JenesisX ))