Disclaimer: The usual, nothing owned by me.

Underlying the Cold

The ocean has always fascinated her.

She was a mountain girl, born and bred, but that did nothing to quell the fascination she had always had with that vast expanse of blue water that covered two thirds of the planet.

Mountain streams ran icy cold, always moving down and away. Always leading to the ocean.

Her parents had once taken her to see beach, long ago before her mother grew too ill to do much. They had gone with another family, her and the son, Johnny, his name was, had played on the sand while their fathers kept careful watch.

The village, no more then a couple of small houses clumped together with a crude stone and wooden fence surrounding it, was composed of fisher folk, a proud, weathered people who lived by the rules of the ocean and the wind.

That village was where her mother was from, she remembers. Inanna, is what it was called. They had completely bypassed it during their ventures across Planet two years ago. That was the first and only time she ever met her maternal grandparents. It was dangerous to travel, especially with young children, and her mothers kin refused to move away from their beloved ocean.

Yes, it had fascinated her, even then. She remembered the rasping voice and the long whiskers of her Grandfather as he sat her on her knee and told her about the wild, untamable nature of the sea.

'Across this sea rests the ocean god-snake, Leviathan, or Kaitei en'yu, to his people. When the ocean is calm, you know he is with his people, but when the waves crash and the swell is high, you know he is here chasing after his lover, Nin-anna, who resides in the waters that line this land…'

'Old wives tales…' Her father had laughed.

She smiles. After all, she is sailing across such waters. Sure, she is on the other side of the continent from Inanna, but she is certain that the sea goddess won't discriminate.

Breathing in the salty air, Tifa pulls her gaze away from the white wash that lines the boats passage through the water to peer at the approaching land mass.

She makes a mental note to call Edge once they reach port. She briefly hopes her chocobo, Inna, has fared the sea journey fine. But, seeing as Inna is of the blue variety, Tifa assumes that the bird will be well enough.

For a moment, though, she can not worry about the kids she had given a home. She can forget the troubled man with glowing blue eyes and a lost heart. She can ignore the curious messages from a once-foe.

Straightening, she lets her arms slid off the salt encrusted railing, letting the wind buffet her face and hair. It is cold, fresh, and seemingly alive.

For a moment, all that exists is this wind, and this ocean, and herself.

She can't help but smile into it.

The chill air bites at his skin, but he is in too much pain for it to worry him. Something blocks up his throat, and he spits out blood while trying not to wince.

'Are you ready to talk to me now, Mister Turk, Or do you still need something to loosen your tongue?'

The voice above him is young and cruelly mocking. It's like being taunted at by a child.

Tseng rolls onto his stomach and tries to push his battered torso up with his shaking arms. His dark hair, now messy and loose and streaked with blood and sweat hangs limply over his face. His muscles strain with the effort, as he uses his forearms to lever himself up.

Footsteps pace around his. He catches a glimpse of shiny, black boots before someone grabs his hair and yanks his head up.

'I asked you a question, neh? Did you not hear me?'

That face is far too young to look so condescending. A slight frown mars the other wise perfect features of the face.

'Did you not hear me? Answer me!'

He truly is a child, Tseng thinks with some cold satisfaction, he throws a tantrum when he's ignored.

'I said-'

The hand lets go, and he barely has time to balance himself before his head snaps violently to the side after a viscous backhand.

'-rrRRHAH!'

Tseng drops to the ground, and some old, well worn instinct of his causes his body to roll away to the side.

Not that it does much. The hard kick still catches him in the ribs anyway.

'Tell ME!!!'

He is thrown onto his back and a black gloved hand slams into his throat and squeezes.

The man, no, the boy above him is snarling at him with brandished teeth, green eyes livid. His silver hair falls down over his face, and once again, Tseng can't help but shudder at his resemblance to the dead General.

The hand tightens and Tseng begins to gurgle unwillingly as his airway is cut off. He tries to swallow, tries to breach the pain that feels like a blunt knife around his voice box. The cold ground beneath roughly scraps at his skin.

He is losing control, he thinks. The silver haired man will never extract information from them like this. Torture is a delicate thing; one has to play a cruel mind game with the victim as well physically tormenting them. Against a normal man, such tactics weren't needed, but with someone like a Turk, well, it was a whole different story.

Tseng allows himself to smirk at the boy, even as he feels his vision fazing out from a lack of oxygen. A Turk could fight back against such captors in a mental battle the silver haired trio did not even realize they were fighting.

A Turk was taught this kind of thing.

The boy shrieks in rage at the smirk, rips his hand off Tseng's throat and brings it down heavily onto his face. The Turk barely sucks in his first breath of air before he feels the blow smash onto his cheek. Luckily, it hits his cheekbone and glances off.

Tseng is not so fortunate the next time. Another blow, breaking his nose, another, splitting his lip, another crashing into his eye, another, another.

Through the blood and the pain he hazily thanks Da Chao that now at least he can breath.

He slouches against the doorframe, the epitome of the word 'uninterested.' Mind you, this outward appearance isn't unusual for him. It's a good tactic; it throws most enemies off guard.

Not that there are many enemies in this room, just one unconscious chick and a whole bunch of white. Reno fingers the nose that was broken during her little spasm session. No lasting damage, supposedly, but he wonders if a crooked nose would have given his face more of a roughish appearance compared to his current feminine features.

He scowls at this thought, and at the woman on the bed. She has not stirred since that day, and he wonders how much Rufus isn't telling him.

Elmyra worries. She is a woman, an aging one at that, but it does not change the fact that she has a lot to worry about.

It has been four days since Tifa left Edge.

She worries about the woman, her daughter's friend, comrade in arms, rival, and now her own employer to some extent. Tifa works hard for her charges, keeping a smile on her face for them.

Taking care of thirteen children is not an easy task. These kids are orphans, unruly and rebellious from their time surviving on the streets, many of them are deathly sick.

It is only the younger ones who stay, really. The older ones, often brothers or sisters to the sick youngsters at Seventh Heaven, choose to keep their independence, as they think of it, out on the streets. Both Elmyra and Tifa know they're out there, they both try to help them. Seventh Heaven offers a free meal for any kid who wishes it, though many of them are too proud to take it for nothing. These older ones try to help out in return, fetching groceries, fixing up the house, painting the windowsills, scavenging pretty trinkets from the rubble of Old Midgar to offer as gifts.

They are a proud bunch, and Elmyra worries for them too. She can see the result of hard living on their young faces; she had lived in the Slums, after all. She still finds it hard to look at the rough, makeshift bandages covering the black mark of Geo-Stigma. So she tries hard not to wince at the sight of their thin, strained faces. These ones do not want pity.

Marlene, Barret's daughter, Elmyra worries for her plenty. The little girl is far too quiet and somber for her age. The child worries too much, for her father, away in the mines, for her guardians, both present and absent, and for her friend, locked away in his own world of illness.

Cloud Strife. Elmyra remembers him; her worry extends to him too. Her daughter's bodyguard, rescuer, and so many other things that she can only speculate on. He made her happy though, taking her away from Midgar's suffocating presence. She is grateful to him for that. Elmyra remembers the happiness in Aerith's voice when she had last called, like she had finally found her path. Now he shuts himself away from all those who care for him.

Yes, Elmyra worries a lot.

So he is here.

Whatever it is the former President of Shinra wants with him, well, he is going to find out soon.

Cloud eases Fenrir to a standstill, and stares at the plain building in front of him. It is a far cry from the impressionable tower of steel and glass that used to house the Shinra headquarters. That building is nothing but cold dust and old rubble now amidst the ruins of Midgar. He would smirk in derision at obvious fall from grace, but that never was his style and he is too weary for such petty snideness.

His footfalls sound heavily on the wooden ramp. He briefly wonders why the ramp and not just steps but he dismisses the thought as unimportant. He's been doing that a lot, lately, dismissing his own thoughts.

The ones that make him human.

He hears the soft scuff of a step behind the door. Without hesitation, he opens it and swiftly brings his sword out to clash with the mag-rod being thrust at him.

Turk.

They pause for a moment, before the agitated redhead brings back his weapon and charges. Cloud simply slides out the way and allows the Turk's own momentum to carry him out the door.

He hears a baffled 'huh?' and shuts the door in his face.

There is a moment of silence, before the familiar lazy drawl comments from outside.

'Damn, as much as can be expected, eh?'

Cloud doesn't bother to reply. The Turks partner, Rude, is walking slowly and calmly to face him. The big man tightens his fighting gloves, and Cloud has a brief flash of another fist fighter doing the same thing. It is gone and forgotten quickly though.

'Yo Rude! You kick arse!'

They both ignore him.

Rude darts forward. Cloud reacts on instinct, and the blade is at the big mans throat. Rude swallows, before straightening and nodding in acknowledgment at the swordsman's superiority. He knows when he's out matched.

'What else could be expected from an ex-Soldier?'

Cloud frowns at the new, cold voice. It is one he does not care much to hear again. A wheelchair smoothly drives out, its driver concealed beneath a white cloak. The smooth voice continues.

'Your skills are impressive as ever.' The tall Turk moves to stand protectively beside his master. Cloud tilts his head up in a gesture of half defiance and half mockery.

'Rufus Shinra…' It is the name of an old nemesis, and it does not rest easy on his tongue. He notes the bandaged arm, concealed under white cloth. 'Fate has not been kind to you.'

'Hn' he laughs, and Cloud frowns again. He does not like being toyed with.

'That day…I…' Rufus starts, sounding almost as if he is in a confession booth. Cloud doesn't like the tone.

'Why did you call me?'

'Just before the-' The ex-president starts again.

He doesn't want to hear this. He doesn't want this cold man to speak like a human being. Cloud shudders inwardly at the echo of those words, that phrase.

He doesn't want to think about that, not now.

'Who were those people that attacked me?'

'Listen-'

'Don't wanna hear it!'

Cloud's had enough of this.

He turns away, almost angry. He should of known it was a waste of time coming here. Rufus was still as slippery and conniving as he was two years ago, trying to catch him in web. Cloud doesn't know why or what for, he only knows that a net is being readied.

He had wanted to cut away his ties to Shinra once and for all.

'…lend me your strength…' A change of tactics.

'Not interested.' But he remains where he is. He is intrigued, to say the least, against his better judgement.

'We at Shinra…' Rufus pauses deliberately, he knows that Cloud is listening '…we owe much to this planet. We are responsible for its current state-it is true, and we must somehow repay this debt of ours…'

Cloud is dubious at his sincerity. He treats those words warily, as if they were poisonous. There's an impatient thump on the door.

'Oi, let me in already!'

Cloud kicks the door in response. He sees a slight smile tug at Rufus's lips, and he wonders if the man ordered Reno to be a deliberate nuisance. Perhaps he thought it would unnerve him, or put him at ease. Whatever the reason, the ex-president continues.

'Our first step, we began an investigation of the remaining Sephiroth influences-'

'Northern Crater, yah?' The Turk calls out.

His head jerks up and there is a visible frown etched on his furrow.

'What do you think was there?'

Cloud turns slightly and narrows his eyes at the partially concealed man.

'Nothing. There was nothing.' His soft words sound laced in deceit, like the lies you tell to calm small children ' No need to worry…but…'

There was always a but.

'…Something…unexpected happened. Someone is trying to hinder us. It is the same people who attacked you…Kadaj's gang…'

'Kadaj…' he whispers absentmindedly, thinking back to the two men whom he had fought earlier on. Not a normal gang of thugs then, no. Something much more. Clouds jaw clenches unbeknownst to himself.

'It seems they want to interfere with our plans…heh…' The ex-president allows himself another small smirk of seemingly self derision, as if he is bemused at the whole matter '…I can't figure out why.'

Cloud doesn't want to play this mind game; he refuses to play up to Rufus.

'Why did they attack me?'

Rufus tilts his head slightly, as if he expected this question. Cloud curses him inwardly. It is not him that answers though.

'…you with us, right?' The voice on the other side of the door sounds slightly disgruntled, even reluctant. Cloud doesn't acknowledge the statement-cross-question.

'Kadaj's gang are young, yet extremely dangerous. So, we decided we needed someone of your…talents, a skilled body guard, if you will…'

'I'm no longer hired mercenary.' Surely Rufus knew that Cloud would never agree, never take up such an offer? He turns to go; there are no answers to be found in Healin, not from the mouth of Rufus Shinra at least.

Yet he pauses. Something one of the nightmare men said that niggles at his mind.

'What's this 'mother' they talk about?'

The cloaked man inclines his head, as if he is offering out a gift of sorts.

'Kadaj said something, hm? Well, I wouldn't worry about it.' That smooth, flawless voice continues 'All children yearn for their mothers. I heard you're living with orphans, wouldn't you want to see those children smile?…our ultimate goal is to help the planet, Cloud.'

'I…'

Is this the man's secret weapon, guilt? Cloud has enough of that on his hands already, yet he feels the pull on his heart all the same. Could he make it better for them, the ones suffered so much yet deserved none of it? Would he be turning his back on them if he refused?

'Come on, man, we're rebuilding Shinra!'

The guilt trip is broken, and Cloud feels strangely grateful to the red-head. Rufus and his silky words were all poison and ice.

'Not interested.'

He walks out immediately.

'Cover me for a minute or two, will ya bro? Thanks, I owe ya one.'

His partner slinks out the door again not waiting for a response. Rude sighs at the muttered request and turns to his young boss.

Ah, Rufus was a cold one, still cocky too. The Turk knew his boss was inwardly seething at Strife's refusal. He enjoyed the mind games, oh sure; he had planned out most of that conversation in order to snare the ex-soldier into working for him. But Rufus Shinra did not take rejection, or failure, lightly.

There would be no raging out bursts, fits of fury and frustration, but Reno had slipped up deliberately and sooner or later Rufus would make him pay for it in that cold calculating way of his. For all Rude knew, Reno had slipped out for this very reason, to evade the silent loathing or quick, scathing remarks.

For all that he claimed to be redeemed, Rude saw it clearly; the man was stone cold underneath that flesh.

People don't change, not really.

Authors note: Geez, quiet a long one here. It was mainly that cloud/rufus talk, pretty repeditive an nothing new, I know, but it is coming next chapter, so bare with me please!

I made that Inanna town up cause I figured that there would be a couple of miniscule towns about. I mean, the wutai island only had the one town, and they supposedlt were a great nation once. The name 'Inanna' is from an old fertility/moon/cunning goddess that was around before the Greeks dreamt up Aphrodiati (spellings wrong, i know) I found on Wikipedia, in case your interested.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Oh yes, and novie gets points for guessing that Hojo is the mystery girl. (would you be surprised if I said she was right?)

Thats all!