Author's Note: Sincerest apologies for the delay in posting. I've been recovering from surgery, and I've honestly not been able to touch any of my writing or drawing in the last month or so. My plan was to post two chapters to make up for the delay, but the next chapter needs some touch ups, so I'm hoping that I can make it happen for the upcoming weekend. Enjoy!
Chapter Nine:
Taking Chances
"If I break the glass then I'll have to fly;
there's no one to catch me if I take a dive."
A sweet perfume tickled his nose, fresh and crisp like the first warm day of spring. He tried to open his eyes, but they were heavy and refused. Like they were glued shut; but he didn't mind the rest. A breeze drifted over him lazily, and he felt a contented grin tug at his lips. The ground was soft beneath him, though cool. His suit clung damply to his back, moist with the fresh dewdrops that settled over the grass. But sunlight bore down over him, warm against sun-deprived skin and illuminating, despite his unresponsive eyelids. A soft petal brushed his hand, and he stroked a finger over the delicate plant; it was smooth and flawless. Lilies, he realized vaguely, as he took another deep breath of the fragrance.
Grass crunched faintly, boots carefully finding the barest ground. Reno tried to pry his eyes open, now fully aware of the nearby presence, but they wouldn't budge. Limp muscles also refused motion, deciding instead to bask idly in the sun-kissed field. Grassed squawked in protest as a weed was pried from the dirt, snapping dryly as fingers tugged it free. Fabric rustled as the presence stood, and for a moment, the sounds died away.
He couldn't see the person, but could feel a gaze linger over him, and his heart fluttered as he wished to move; his head lolled lazily in response, dew-glazed grass tickling his cheek. The gaze was uncertain, but accepting, almost laced with concern as it scrutinized him. A whimsical sound caught on the passing breeze, almost like a distant wind chime. A giggle, he realized, though the soft sound was almost sympathetic. Musical tones touched his ears, and he squinted as enhanced ears pricked. It repeated, and he tried to make out the syllables.
"I…can't hear you…" he mumbled quietly, though he wasn't sure if the words had made it past his own thoughts or if they had become silent as they escaped his lips. The words repeated, louder, and he could make out hard sounds as they formed words. "You…you're fine…there?" he repeated, knowing that he'd missed a few words somewhere in the statement. She giggled at his attempt, and the sound began to fade. The tones repeated, and he shook his head slowly. "You…know…me? I'm sorry…I…I can't…I don't understand…" he finally said.
Suddenly, the warm sun disappeared. Solid ground sank beneath him, until his body was floating, weightless. Cool water broke around his limp form, but it wasn't icy or unpleasant; in fact, it was the opposite. It was slightly cool against his sun-bathed skin, but as he slid slowly beneath the surface, his body didn't shudder; it settled. Uncertainty melted from his mind, and he let himself sink slightly, water beginning to cloud the warmth of the sun that still lingered over him. And finally, he slipped beneath the glassy surface, slowly drifting…weightless…
The musical tones repeated, muffled words reaching his ears. "I know it's far, but…you'll find it there. It will help set you free."
Eyes fluttered open, still heavy with his sleep. Reflexively, he reached up to rub his eyes, reality crashing over him as he recalled the restraints that hung over his wrists. Lazy eyes sank down; metal cuffs clamped over his wrists and a thick leather strap pulled at his arm just above it. Ankles, too, were now fastened to the bottom of the bed frame, and three long, tight straps pressed against his chest keeping him from rising up any at all. He squirmed uncomfortably like a tucked-in child.
Suddenly, a shrill alarm echoed through the room, and he halted; it blared against his senses, and his head panged in protest. Moments later, the door burst open and the curtain rustled as the stern face of the director came in view; his gun was drawn, dark eyes staring down the barrel, aimed. Heavy boots followed him, and fluorescent lights gleamed over the worn sword as the blonde readied himself.
"…What gives?" Reno queried, brows furrowed as he gazed them over. Fierce Mako eyes gazed back at him, bright blue gleaming uncertainly. The director lowered his gun, releasing a caged breath in a long sigh.
"False alarm," he said, quickly shutting off the alarm, and the blonde sheathed the weapon. The redhead studied them, obsidian eyes falling to the floor as sapphires watched him warily.
"I'll be outside," the blonde stated, and Reno watched as he went. Finally, bright jade landed on the director; his face was somber, expression almost unreadable as he found an interest in the monitors by his bedside. Onyx eyes stood out against the dark circles that had formed around them, and worry lines creased fair skin. The redhead sighed, and eyes darted nervously, hesitantly to his direction.
"…What happened this time…?" he asked quietly, now fully aware of the migraine that throbbed against his mind. It panged in rhythm with the heart monitor and he distantly wished he could make the mechanical tone and the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead disappear. Tseng watched him for a moment, dark eyes testing the redhead, but finally he sighed.
"You recall Professor Hart stopping by a few days ago?" he offered expectantly. Reno nodded vaguely; he hadn't realized that days had slipped by since then.
"Sephiroth took over," he replied hoarsely. "I remember hearing his voice, and then…it was like someone flipped a switch. I could hear what was going on but…all I could see was this bright light. And then…I started…seeing something, a dream, I guess." Reno shook his head as he recalled the vivid nightmare; no, it wasn't a dream. Or a nightmare. It had been real – it had happened. "Is…is Hart okay?" he asked quietly.
"He was…quite shaken," Tseng replied, cutting himself short. Distantly he wondered what the director had wanted to say, but let it fall to the back of his mind. His focus drifted, still foggy beneath the fading effects of the sedatives, and he shook his head.
"…She said…she said 'you'll find it there…'" he recalled quietly, malachite eyes finding the window. Moonlight peeked through the blinds faintly, and he could make out the distant lights of the city. Like candles flickering over the landscape. Suddenly, he was aware of the gaze that bore into him, no doubt wondering if his mind was slowly beginning to diminish. "Is…he around…Professor Hart?"
"As…far as I'm aware, he was in the basement," Tseng answered unsurely.
"Will you…tell him I'm sorry?" the redhead offered vaguely. "And…if he's willing…tell him I'd like to finish our conversation." Sephiroth had been quiet; not a thought had escaped over their conversation which had become unusual. Reno shook his head. "Tell him…the sooner, the better." Dark eyes met his, skeptical as he drew his phone from his pocket and crossed to the door.
*~*~*0*~*~*
The desk lamp hummed quietly in the otherwise unlit office, casting a white light over the desk top and scattered papers, and spilling over onto the floor and walls. He shuffled through them as quickly as he could, trying to force them into a neat stack. Fingers hesitated as he touched the manila file, the one labeled T-RS-C, finally falling over the one beside it; she couldn't read the label, but then, she didn't need to. She knew what that file was even before he stuffed it into his bag.
"…Are…are you sure?" she asked quietly, and he hesitated.
"I-I'm…I'm sorry Elena," he replied, a frantic tone hidden beneath feigned sympathy; he shook his head as he crossed the office, absently looking for something, anything to distract him. "But I-I can't stay here," he added finally, fingers jamming something into his lab coat pocket.
"Derik, I know that it got to you, but –" she protested, but a sharp gaze made her swallow her argument; the muted sound of shaken, shallow breaths was almost unbearable. A shrill sound, barely muffled by fabric, cried out from her pocket, and Hart nearly jumped from his skin, only managing to catch himself on the nearby filing cabinet.
"I'm sorry!" she apologized quickly, stuffing her uninjured hand inside her pocket to retrieve it. An olive eye shot a slight glare towards her, an expression she wasn't used to seeing over anxious and hesitant features, and she bit back her words as she stepped into the hallway. "…Elena…" she answered quietly.
"It's me," the director replied quickly; not that she was surprised. It would have been either the Turk or the president, those being the only two that called her anymore. "Are you still with Professor Hart?"
"Yeah," she confirmed quietly. "But…he's packing. He's…leaving."
"What?!"
"Whatever happened really got to him," she answered hastily, "he said he can't work for the company that…" she sighed, unable to finish the sentence, and instead letting her mind drift back to the pacing scientist.
"…Can you convince him to stay?" Tseng asked, and she was certain he hadn't meant to sound so desperate.
"I…I don't think I can," Elena replied, and the director sighed. "Tseng – whatever happened was really traumatic for him. I can't just…I can't just talk him out of it – he won't even talk about it!"
"Would you…would you ask him if he would be willing to meet me in the medical wing before he goes?" Tseng asked and she hesitated. "Reno's asked to see him," he added when she made no reply.
"Tseng…I…I don't think he can," she replied, nearly whispering to ensure the professor didn't overhear her in the otherwise silent basement. "…Not after…not after what happened last time."
"I know…but Reno says it's urgent," he protested. A blue eye flickered to the cracked door, and she could make out the slouched over form of Professor Hart, slumped over his desk still as he went back through the papers. "Would you ask him?" Elena hesitated, glassy eyes lingering over the anxious scientist; finally she sighed, defeated.
"Give me a minute," she answered finally, and she held the phone to her side. The door creaked slightly as she opened it again, but he ignored the small sound. "Derik…?" she offered quietly, and he turned suddenly, eye wide as she startled him. "That was Tseng…he said that…that Reno had asked to see you. I know that what happened last time was…but he said it was important."
"…I can't…" he admitted meekly, turning away. She studied him quietly, head hung as an olive eye fell back to the desk, papers sorted and scattered across the cherry wood surface. Elena sighed quietly, unable to find the nerve to protest. Instead, she paced hesitantly to the desk, and offered him the phone. His gaze met hers a moment, glassy and wide, and he shook his head; the Turk didn't waver, and he sighed quietly.
"H-hello?" he said quietly, and the director cleared his throat, having clearly not expected the professor's voice.
"Professor Hart," the director answered. "Reno…has asked to see you."
"Elena…told me," he replied, voice breaking slightly as he willed himself to refuse again. "I…I can't…I'm…I'm leaving."
"Professor, please," Tseng pleaded. "Reno said it was urgent that he speak with you."
"Can he…tell you and you tell me?" Hart suggested, and the director seemed to hesitate at the grade-school suggestion.
"He…he won't talk to me…" he admitted weakly, and the phrase came over the receiver much more desperate then he was sure Tseng meant. Hart held his breath, gaze finding the silent blonde that hovered over him; her expression was unreadable, some mix of stubborn determination and heart-felt sympathy. His eye fell, and he glanced over the papers on the desk.
The vast majority of them were pieces of the redhead's file, carefully sorted, highlighted, studied, and reviewed. Through the unzipped bag, he could make out the faded, crumpled edges of the manila file. His mind reread the last line mentally; "…subject euthanized."
He chuckled, a deep, guttural sound, a sound that mocked the professor, like being spat on. "You won't be able to save him, just like you couldn't save your sister."
His gaze flickered back to the scattered pages, and he was now fully aware of the heavy, desperate gaze that lingered over him. The near-silent drone of the lamp filled the room, barely heard over his own throbbing heart beat and headache. Finally, he let the caged breath free, feeling slightly lightheaded from holding it for so long. He put the phone back to his ear, trying to pry the choked response free from his throat.
"…Okay…I'll…I'll do it," he caved finally. "But…someone will have to be in the room with me."
"…I'll send for Cloud," the director replied, attempting to hide the satisfactory tone in his voice. "We'll meet you by the elevator in ten minutes."
"…Make it five," Hart replied, swallowing. 'Before I change my mind…' he added mentally, and he hung the phone up nervously. Elena looked pleased as he shoved her phone towards her, and she smiled.
"…Thank you…" she choked free, following him to the elevator. The scientist didn't reply, choosing instead to ignore the statement. A nervous eye watched the steel doors intently, as he mashed the glowing button repeatedly. He hesitated as the doors finally opened, knowing that an anxious gaze flickered in his direction when he didn't step on immediately. Finally, he pried his rooted feet from the linoleum, and the elevator dinged as the professor absently pressed the button.
Sure enough, the director waited for them outside the elevator, along with the muscular blonde from before; a former SOLDIER, Hart noted vaguely, his gaze flickering over to brilliant blue eyes. He swallowed dryly; having the strength of SOLDIER behind him was reassuring, but it didn't make him feel any less like fleeing back to the safety of his office. Tseng looked surprised to see that Elena had joined the scientist, and she shook her head.
"I'm actually on my way up to see the president," she said, pressing the 'open' button on the elevator door. It gave a short ping of protest as she held it too long, and she eyed the digital display uncertainly. "…Tell Reno I said 'hi,'" she added quietly, gaze falling to the floor.
"…You should tell him yourself," Tseng suggested as they turned. Her heart skipped a beat as the statement reached her ears, and the elevator let out a shrill cry as the doors began to close themselves, like the vacant ring of a heart monitor.
"S-so…he is…himself?" Hart queried nervously, eye lingering over the floor as they briskly made their way through the medical wing.
"Last I saw, yes," Tseng confirmed, "and that was only about five minutes ago." They reached the door, now locked from the outside, and keys jingled whimsically as he snatched them from his pocket. "I will go in first, and I will let you know if it is safe to enter. Cloud has agreed to stay in the room with you." The blonde nodded silently, and Hart repeated the motion with gratitude. The door swung open, and Tseng left it cracked. As he rounded the curtain, he eyed the redhead warily.
Vivid jade eyes fixated somewhere before they reached the opposite wall, focused intensely. Unblinking, they were almost hypnotic, the phosphorescent glow only brighter beneath the fluorescent lamp over the hospital bed. Chapped lips were pursed thoughtfully, and his fingers tapped impatiently, nervously at the starchy sheets. The director cleared his throat quietly, and wide eyes blinked as his gaze shifted.
"I…I didn't hear you come in, sir," Reno offered hoarsely. He swallowed dryly, shifting uncomfortably against the restraints. The hospital bed was propped up, just as the director had left him, and the redhead wanted nothing more than to tousle the auburn strands that fell into his vision. Tseng smiled half-heartedly, the gesture somewhat a formality rather than sincere.
"Professor Hart is here," he said. "Cloud will be staying in the room, as per Hart's request. I'll…I'll be outside if you need anything." The smile meekly returned to his lips and the redhead returned the expression. The door opened, and his ears could pick out their conversation, despite their hushed tones.
"I'll be out here, call me if something goes wrong," Tseng said.
"…I can handle Sephiroth," Cloud assured the seasoned Turk, and the scientist swallowed loudly. "You ready?" he asked, clearly directed to Professor Hart. There was a hesitance, and Reno realized that the professor had likely had to have some coaxing to return. Finally, he responded.
"Y-yeah," he answered nervously, and the door closed as footsteps entered the room. Reno allowed his gaze to find the floor, knowing well that his eyes made the scientist uncomfortable; he stood by the curtain awkwardly for a moment, debating on whether to take the seat or not. The Turk fidgeted uncomfortably beneath the restraints, settling back to the inclined mattress.
"I…I'm sorry," Reno offered quietly, but the timid blonde didn't respond. "I'll make this quick," he began, still not gazing towards the scientist. Instead, he watched the ex-SOLDIER from the corner of his eye. Cloud shifted as he leaned against the wall, and Reno hesitated as the form wavered. Blonde locks blurred, unkempt raven taking their place as blue eyes pierced him. He blinked himself free, and, convincing himself that it must have been a trick of the light, sighed; he almost wished he wasn't in the room. "I…had another dream." Hart seemed to snap from his anxious trance, eyes fixating on the restrained redhead. "She…she said 'you'll find it there,' but…I don't know what she was talking about…"
"…She?" Hart repeated distantly, absently stepping closer. "…Who?"
"I'm…not sure, exactly," he answered as the scientist pulled his notepad and pen from his pocket. "I have a guess, anyway… But…I was…asleep, in a field. I could smell flowers. I tried to open my eyes when I heard the footsteps, but…I couldn't. Like…like they were taped closed. I couldn't make out the words at first…they were…light – almost musical…like wind chimes. I tried to make out the words…but I couldn't. Then –"
'Don't feed the mice too much,' the voice sneered. '…they become attached.'
"…then, the field disappeared," he continued, focusing instead on the scratching of the ballpoint over crisp pages, "and it was like…I was floating, in water…slowly sinking below the surface. And then, I could hear her voice – she said 'it's far, but you'll find it there…it will…help set you free…'" The room fell quiet, save for the steady mechanical tones that emptily signaled his vitals; he wanted the scientist to say something – anything.
"Who…do you believe the voice was?" Hart asked thoughtfully, and glittering malachite eyes gazed up to him. Olive green trembled as the scientist forced himself not to look away, and Reno let his eyes shift to the ex-SOLDIER. Bright cerulean pierced him, like the breathtaking hue of the crystal coastlines of Costa del Sol, and for a fleeting moment, he found himself lost in them, drowning somewhere in the rolling waves. Eyes, like glassy pools of Mako, studied the blonde, tracing the expression etched over fair features; uncertain, anxious, and yet…
"…Aerith," he managed, but any other words choked in his throat.
'That's enough…' he warned. Eyes clenched and his face contorted as he strained himself to maintain control. A shrill ring echoed over his ears, and he wished he could cover them with his hands, tear at the auburn locks; it reminded him of the sharp sound from a microphone amplifier that had been adjusted incorrectly.
"No…" he thought aloud; the shrill sound began to fade and his head panged painfully as a migraine settled over him. 'You…won't…not now…' he told himself, forcing himself free. Glittering eyes finally blinked open, and an olive eye scrutinized him cautiously. "He can't control me for extended periods of time – he's still too weak. And he's overdone it, for now."
"So you fought him off, just now?" Hart clarified, and Reno nodded.
'Not much longer…' The sharp ring tugged at his mind and he flinched as a twinge throbbed agonizingly against his mind. He winced reflexively, biting his lip until he tasted salty metal. Finally, the sensation passed, only a lingering headache remaining.
"Yeah but…I don't know how much longer it will be before he is strong enough," the Turk admitted darkly. "He's trying now, but…he can't." A silence settled over the room like the eye of a storm, still but ominous.
Pain tore into his skull, sudden and white-hot. He crumpled to the floor, screams biting at his lungs and throat, unable to escape. A hand reflexively clamped across the side of his face, hot, sticky fluids seeping between his fingers. Wildly he sought the source of the pain, the ax to fend it off; she was on him again before his vision found her, long talons slicing his right arm, dragging to his chest as she tried to grab him.
"Sephora!" he screamed. "Sephora – it's me! Please!" But his pleas fell on deaf ears…
Reno finally sighed, pulling absently at a loose string in the blanket.
"…Thank you…for coming back…I…I know it wasn't easy," he offered quietly. The scientist nodded, words silent as they smothered themselves in his throat; fluorescent green flickered to him, and he could make out the stain of a hand print over his sun-kissed neck. "I'm…sorry…" he muttered, letting his eyes fall back to the loose string. The blonde swallowed his words, expression unreadable beneath a nervous eye and cautious features. His vision blurred, and he clenched his eyes as the sharp pain stabbed like a nail against his skull; he winced as it faded, and finally shook his head.
"There was something else," Reno said, and the scientist was alert suddenly. "Sometimes, I…I see things, weird…visions or…daydreams maybe."
"…Daydreams?" Hart repeated, jotting a note down on his notepad. "What…what do you see?"
"Different things," he answered absently, warding off another headache. "Usually about other people though, like…I see their thoughts – or memories." The professor's heart leapt and he swallowed any reply, any question that burned in his throat. Finally, he pried himself free of the sensation.
"Wh-when does this occur?" he stammered, voice trembling like the stiff fingers that balanced the pen motionless over starch white pages.
"…I…I'm not sure," he answered. "It just…happens."
"When was the last time this happened?" he managed. Sharp eyes, bright, fluorescent eyes struck him, and his blood seemed to run cold beneath the gaze.
"Sephora!"
"…When Sephiroth took over," he answered. A wide eye, childlike, studied him, judging the sincerity of the statement. "I'm…I'm sorry," he mumbled, knowing the apology fell flat against the racing mind of the scientist. Jade eyes lingered a moment, the gaze fleeting as it found interest in a string near his fingers. Dryly, the professor swallowed, a hazel eye sinking to the crisp note pad. The ballpoint pen still hovered, trembling in his fingers over the page, and a breath shuddered over his lips.
"You should get some rest," the ex-SOLDIER spoke up at last, startling the scientist from his thoughts. "You look like hell," he added smartly, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips.
"Yeah?" Reno chuckled half-heartedly. "Bet I look better than you," he returned the friendly banter, beaming at his own humor.
"I'll, er…have Tseng update you as – as soon as I know something," the scientist stammered. He turned sharply, and a table jostled dangerously as he nearly knocked it over. Slightly trembling hands stabilized it, and he threw a nervous glance over his shoulder. The blonde shook his head as he watched the skittish professor hastily cross the threshold. Wordlessly, he followed him out, and the door closed sharply behind him. He could make out words, but they faded before he could make them make sense. The redhead sighed, allowing his head to rest against the too-firm pillow, and he squirmed beneath leather straps. Finally, he sighed, deciding they would wear skin raw before he would be comfortable, and let his eyes find the window.
Pale blue clouds hung lazily against the indigo backdrop, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon as they sailed over it; he could vaguely make out the distant landscape, shadowed mountains standing in stark contrast to the midnight sky. It was chilly, probably, judging by the faint draft that settled over him once in a while as the wind decided to pick up, and distantly he longed to feel the chilling breeze over fair skin. He sighed; that wouldn't happen any time soon.
*~*~*0*~*~*
"Well?" Tseng pried anxiously, and he tried to peel back the exasperation that lingered over his words. "What did he say?"
"We…should wait until we get to your office," Cloud offered quietly, and onyx eyes studied him curiously. Blue eyes shifted back to the closed door, a silent message lingering over his gaze as they fixed over the director's face. His expression changed, eyes softened as he understood, and he led the pair to the elevator. Eyes darted to his watch as they waited in silence, and the blonde could tell it was all he could manage to keep himself quiet. Finally, the elevator pinged, and they hastily followed him inside. Silence still lingered over them, its presence heavy and tense as they waited for the top floor to appear on the digital display.
When it did, the director wasted no time, leading them through the still atrium that was dimly illuminated by the few emergency fluorescents and moonlight; a ding approved his card as it swiped through the access, and he opened the door leading to the offices. For a fleeting moment, Cloud wondered if Rufus ShinRa would be gracing them with his presence, but Tseng stopped abruptly before they reached the double-doors at the end of the hallway. Keys jingled as he pried them from his pockets, flicking quickly through them before unlocking the office door.
The office wasn't more than an oversized cupboard, hardly big enough for the desk, computer, and three filing cabinets. Tseng sat in the chair behind the desk, and Hart hesitated, eye darting to the blonde anxiously, before taking the other chair. Cloud found a wall to lean against, propping an arm on a metal cabinet. He let his mind wander, eyes finding a haphazard stack of papers and files, and he tried to make out the faint words on the label. Dark eyes studied the professor expectantly, and he nervously cleared his throat.
"Reno said that, er, Sephiroth was having trouble taking control," Hart explained anxiously. "He said that he had…'overdone it' and was struggling, er, though he wasn't sure for how long."
"…Why though…?" Tseng wondered aloud; though rhetorical, the scientist cleared his throat.
"It's, er…hard to say," he replied quietly. "Though…it could be something in the genetic infusion…I'll, er…have to look into it." His voice trailed as he drifted into his thoughts, lips pursing pensively as they absorbed him. Perhaps there were strands of Sephiroth's DNA that hadn't properly infused…or, Jenova's cells, for that matter… Behind him, the ex-SOLDIER cleared his throat quietly, and he was suddenly aware of the severe gazes that scrutinized him. "He, er…also mentioned a dream," the scientist added suddenly.
"…About?" the director queried anxiously, and the professor shook his head.
"I'm, er…not sure," he answered. "He was, er, lying in a field, and then said it felt like he had been submerged beneath water. He could hear someone, too, but…I'm, er, not sure of the significance of that."
"Did he say who?" Tseng questioned, and the scientist blinked.
"…Aerith," the aloof blonde spoke, the word weightless as it left his lips. Brows furrowed as obsidian eyes locked with phosphorescent cerulean. "She said he would find it 'there,'" he explained.
"…Any idea what she meant?"
"Not sure," he muttered quickly. "I have a guess though." Dark eyes studied him apprehensively, and the blonde shook his head. "There's a pond there, in the Forgotten City. It had some healing abilities before." He hesitated, eyes drifting from the director's expression, and he sighed quietly; his chest contracted as he tried to choke the words free. "…It's…where she was laid to rest…" he added finally.
"…Er, not to pry, but…who…who is she?" Hart asked faintly; the blonde didn't speak, eyes suddenly interested in the polished tile flooring, and Tseng sighed distractedly.
"Aerith Gainsborough…was the last remaining Cetra," he explained hoarsely.
"Sephiroth killed her nine years ago," Cloud added darkly. "She…sacrificed herself to save the Planet from Meteor." Lips pursed thoughtfully as the scientist added the knowledge into the equation.
"Cloud…do you think it would be possible…?" the director's voice trailed, the lingering words almost hopeful. The ex-SOLDIER considered the suggestion, but he sighed.
"I doubt it," he answered, and the director bit his tongue over the dark tone. "It can heal minor things…I don't think it can fix his DNA."
"…Not necessarily," the scientist finally spoke, having surfaced from the depths of his own mind. Eyes shifted to him, and he shook his head. "You said she was laid to rest there…right?" The blonde was quiet; eyes, glassy like lapis lazuli beneath the fluorescent lights, lingered over the scientist, and he nodded hesitantly. "So, if she was one of the Ancients, could it be possible that the waters there took on some of her powers, too? I mean, it's a long shot, but if she was connected to the Planet as a Cetra, and stopped Meteor...maybe she can stop this, too."
"How can you be so sure?" the blonde questioned cynically.
"I'm not," he confessed, "As I said, it's a long shot. But Reno heard her in his dream. If she was telling him that he could go there for help...is there any reason not to try it?" Eyes twinkled like the midnight sky, dark and starlit, as they met bright cerulean. The stern façade of the director had long-since faded, and a hopeful expression tugged at somber features. Defeated, the blonde sighed.
"Even if it could work…there's no way to take him there," he offered pointedly. The Turk frowned.
"…You have a point," the Turk admitted quietly.
"He would have to remain sedated," Hart suggested. "If you could take him while he's under…it could work."
"The only problem is…we're having trouble keeping him sedated as it is," Tseng pointed out. "Normal doses make him groggy, and doses that would easily kill a man only make him doze for ten or twenty minutes. That wouldn't be nearly enough time to transport him."
"Up the dose," the scientist suggested quickly. "I know he is your friend, but…you have to stop thinking of him as…normal. As human." The director's brows furrowed, but he bit his tongue. Dark eyes fell from the scientist, and he took in a breath to calm himself. "His body is made to handle more," Hart continued. "You just have to outdo it."
"…He's right," Cloud nodded. "Even members of SOLDIER are more tolerant of drugs and sedatives. If you keep raising the dose, you'll eventually hit something strong enough to knock him out for a decent amount of time."
"…Fine," Tseng agreed quietly, the word barely choked free from his chest. "But…we can't leave Reno in the dark. He'll have to agree to the plan."
"…Not wise," the ex-SOLDIER said suddenly. The Turk's gaze shifted to the cold blonde, leaned cross-armed and standoffishly against the filing cabinet. "You'll be setting yourself up for something to go wrong." Wary eyes studied him, and Cloud sighed, realizing the director still wasn't doing the math. "Hart is right. You have to stop thinking of him as normal – as Reno. If you tell him…you tell Sephiroth." The director swallowed dryly, weary eyes lingering over the blonde, but he sighed. Words choked in his throat; he couldn't admit that they were right…that he was no longer the laid-back Turk he recalled.
"I will tell him about the sedations," Tseng finally stated. "But….I won't tell him anything else." Cloud shook his head.
"We'll need a backup plan," he said. "Just in case…something goes wrong while we're at the Forgotten City."
"You two should work out the kinks," Hart interjected. "I need to do some more research on Hojo's findings." The pair nodded as he dismissed himself, leaving quickly and quietly. Silence settled over them, and Cloud let his mind trail, eyes glancing over the small office. Blue eyes lingered over the scrawled handwriting on the files beside him and his brows furrowed.
"…These are…" his voice was distant as he dared himself not to finish, knowing that he was delving into something that was not his concern. He could feel the wide-eyed gaze of the director over him, heavy and restless as he feigned his composure.
"…Zack's files…" the Turk finished faintly, onyx eyes lingering over the jumbled mess of files. "…Yes," he confirmed. Cloud shifted the stack, eyeing the scuffed box that was underneath them. "I…I had wanted to give those to him," he sighed, standing. "I found them in the rubble of the old ShinRa building…it's amazing they survived…" The blonde's brows furrowed as he watched the calm Turk approach, stressed features suddenly placid and solemn. He gave a small nod, almost unnoticeable and the ex-SOLDIER pulled the box free.
Soundlessly, he slid the tattered lid away, eyes lingering over the crisp creases and yellowed edges of the papers. There were dozens in there, and distantly he wondered how many there actually were. Bright cerulean eyes flickered up to the director, but gazes didn't meet; his lingered over the aged letters, and the gloved hand that picked one from the bunch.
Zack –
I've tried to call you, but you never answer. Now, it just goes straight to your voicemail, which says it's full. So, I'm writing you a letter. It's been a while… I never heard from you after your last mission. I hope everything went okay. I miss you, so much.
Don't be a stranger!
Love,
– Aerith
"…How many…?" he choked, swallowing dryly.
"…Eighty-eight," the director answered, words falling like smooth strands of satin. "I'd held on to them in hopes that…one day…" Tseng sighed shaking his head as the blonde gently set the letter down, paper rustling in the silence. Cardboard scraped as he let the lid fall back over them, and rough fingers traced lines over the dusty faded surface. "But, that was a long time ago." The blonde hummed in agreement as brilliant cobalt eyes studied the Turk; dark eyes were glossy and watery as he turned away, fingers trembling ever so slightly as he set the cardboard box in the drawer of his desk. Cloud had never realized Tseng had considered Zack as well of a friend as he had, or that the stern director had felt so emotional over the spunky SOLDIER's death.
Anxiousness settled over them, the silence tense as they both bit back words of doubt; the director paced to the window behind his desk, eyes gazing out over the city of Neo-Midgar. Street lamps dotted the quiet roads, though it was otherwise dead. The moon hung pale and lifeless over the landscape, shedding its sallow glow across the rooftops; across the plains, he could make out the faintest hint of light beginning to peek over the calm ocean that stretched across the distance.
"…Do you think…it could work?" Tseng managed finally, the question leaving a light fog over the chilled glass. The blonde didn't answer, instead letting azure eyes sink to the floor. Linoleum gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights, and Cloud could almost trace the lines of uncertainty over his reflection. Arms crossed, and a finger restlessly tapped against his arm. Moments passed, and he sighed.
"I don't know," Cloud replied. "But…it's the only chance he has. The real question is…will you be able to handle what might happen if it doesn't?" Sharp eyes met his, obsidian alive with uneasiness and a helplessness that managed to sneak its way over stern features. They lingered over fluorescent cerulean, the grave expression almost lethal as the director breathed in.
"…It won't come to that," he replied, the words pried like heavy stones from his chest. The blonde chuckled softly, shaking his head. The Turk bit back his response at the harshness of the reaction, instead finding interest in the slowly approaching twilight.
"…I don't remember you being such an optimist," he said finally, a slight smirk tugging at his smug expression. Tseng didn't answer, instead letting his mind drift back to the plum backdrop that winked with diming stars as dawn approached.
*~*~*0*~*~*
Dawn had broken over Neo-ShinRa, and Reno blinked as his room brightened. Chapped lips stretched into a yawn, and he inhaled sharply; sleep had not come to him the night prior, and instead he had watched as the night-cast landscape had shifted into distant mountains and busy morning streets. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he swallowed sorely as he tried to generate some moisture in his dry mouth. He wanted water – no…he wanted coffee, but anything wet would suffice at this point.
Fingers reached for the remote that had been left near his right hand, metal rubbing chafed wrists as he strained. An index finger brushed the plastic, and he winced as he reached farther. He tried to pull it closer, finger tapping the side repeatedly. It shifted slightly, and he turned his hand palm up as he tried to flip it towards him. Teeth dug into his lower lip as his finger caught it; he drug it over the starchy sheets, but the cord caught. It fell freely, plastic clattering hollowly as it hit the tile.
"Damn…" he cursed to himself, and he could almost hear the general chuckle inwardly with amusement. Reno sighed, letting his head fall back to the hard pillow. Jade eyes blinked against the fluorescent lights, and he took in a deep breath. The chemical scent of Mako tickled his nose, and he felt his face contort briefly. Suddenly, a strong fragrance mixed and he hesitated; he knew that scent – bitter, warm, and he could almost taste the coffee beans over his tongue. A small knock echoed over the room, and the door creaked open.
"…Reno…?" the director offered hesitantly, coming around the curtain. Glittering jade eyes locked with his, and the Turk hesitated. "I…I brought you coffee," he added uncertainly when the redhead didn't answer. Dark eyes shifted to the floor, the remote cracked as it lay beside the bed, and his gaze met Reno's once more.
"…Decaf?" he asked quietly, realizing that Tseng must have assumed he would be Sephiroth. Tense muscles relaxed beneath the expensive fabric of the blue suit, and he nodded silently. The director set one cup, presumably his own, on the table by the uncomfortable chair and crossed over to the bed. He tilted the cup to chapped lips, crisp and dry as skin scraped the opening on the lid, and Reno drank greedily. Taste buds numbed, and his tongue recoiled in protest to the scorching heat as it smothered the muscle; he could feel the blistering liquid flow down his throat, and it reminded him of tracks of molten lava from an erupting volcano. Finally, the cup pulled away, and Reno smacked his lips with satisfaction.
"How are you feeling?" Tseng asked, setting the cup on the nightstand and sitting in the stiff plastic chair. He sipped his own coffee, and Reno wished he could snatch the caffeinated drink and chug it quickly while the director scowled.
"I've only felt this way once before, aside from Meteorfall," he said, their eyes still not meeting, and he shook his head. Fingers wrung at tired eyes and he discretely wiped an unnoticed tear from the corner of his eye.
"Felt what?"
"…Helpless…"
"…Tired," he mumbled absently, knowing well that the Turk was more of inquiring about his mental state. Slender fingers suddenly found an interest in a loose string in the blanket, and he let his eyes watch as they tugged at the frayed edges. Obsidian eyes bore over him, heavy and unwavering, like the beady eyes of a scientist ogling his latest results. Like Hojo, staring over his bleeding corpse in silent satisfaction as the warm puddle smeared over white linoleum. Reno shuddered, tearing himself free. "He hasn't said anything for a while now," the redhead finally retorted, wishing that the Turk would look away.
"…That's…that's good," the director replied, running a pale hand through thick strands of black. They cascaded down his shoulders, feathers barely ruffled as they settled to his back.
"…Probably not," Reno disagreed sharply, avoiding the piercing gaze that pried at his attention. He swallowed, wishing he could take another long gulp of the searing liquid, blisters forming over his tongue as he chugged as much as he could in the moment. Finally, Reno sighed. "It probably means his strength is back," he added quietly. "He just doesn't care to waste his energy right now."
'…Very perceptive,' his voice purred, words falling like strands of silk and venom. Tension crept over the room, thick like the muggy summer he had missed, like the sweltering humid vacations at Costa del Sol. The mechanical tones, now long since inaudible to the redhead, seemed to skip a beat, but their eyes never met. Reno took in a deep breath, savoring the scent of coffee as it lingered over his senses. Wordlessly, the Turk stood, and Reno let his gaze drift to worn loafers as they approached. Pale fingers reached for the half-empty cup, and he held it to the redhead's lips. He drank again, just as greedily as before, taking long, full gulps of the hot liquid, and he wanted nothing more than to snatch the cup back as it withdrew.
"Thanks…" he murmured meekly, but he received no reply. Again, bright green eyes sank to the floor, ears picking out, anticipating each near-silent thud as footsteps took Tseng back to his chair. Fingers tapped against his paper cup, the soft drumming sound causing the redhead's stomach to knot nervously, and Tseng took a sip to stall.
"You're…going to be sedated for a while," the director finally said, voice quiet and hesitant.
"…Because of Sephiroth?" The director didn't answer, gaze finding scuffed loafers and white tile. Eyes gleamed like malachite as they watched him, the uncertainty, hesitance gliding across every feature, every line that creased his face like a road map. He wanted those dark eyes to meet his, to read them, to glimpse into the Turk's thoughts, but they pointedly avoided doing just that. A brief scent mixed with the aroma of coffee, and he knew that fear lingered over the Turk's mind. "Tseng…what…what aren't you telling me?" The words were desperate, worried, and he tried to smother the tremble that lingered over his words like a scared child. Still, the Turk didn't answer, didn't meet his gaze, didn't breathe. "…Tseng?" he pleaded, the word barely choked free of his constricting throat.
"I…can't tell you," he replied finally, the words hushed but stern. "Because of Sephiroth." Onyx eyes met his, gaze severe and rigid, and glinting with some dark knowledge that Reno wanted to tug free.
'He's using your condition as an excuse.'
"…Tseng…you…know I don't like the secrets," he reminded hesitantly; his mind reeled, pulling, prying, pushing him to beg for the director to tell him. Organs knotted uncomfortably in his abdomen and suddenly he realized how chilled the room was. He longed for the warmth of a hot shower, of fresh brewed coffee.
'He doesn't trust you – none of them do. Not anymore…'
"Please," he pleaded again, the single syllable desperate, needing. His stomach burned and his mind raced.
"Reno…you know I can't," the Turk denied him again, voice sharper, louder. Mistrusting. Annoyed.
'You're a nuisance…a thorn in his side…'
"Tseng – I-I'm restrained," the redhead begged, words spilling free like vomit. "I can't do anything – why would you –?"
"Reno, please," the director sighed quietly. "Try to understand."
'He thinks you're better off asleep – a corpse, still breathing and trapped in your own mind…'
"I don't!" he cried.
"Reno!" Tseng tried to reason. "You know that I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think it would be for your own good."
'You're a traitor to them. Wake up…' he chuckled this time, amused.
"Stop!" Reno shouted, clenching his eyes. His face contorted painfully, and he wished he could cover his face with coarse hands and wrench at unkempt bangs. He could feel the director's gaze over him, brows furrowed, dark eyes hesitant, watery, unsure… "…You should go," he said hoarsely, and the director hesitated.
"…Reno…I…" Tseng began, words barely whispered as he choked them free.
"No…I get it," he answered quickly. "I do. But…you should go…before…" A cool chuckle echoed against his mind, and a shiver trembled up his spine. Lids closed over fluorescent green, and he shook his head, willing away the shriek that resonated over his senses. "Just…do it…sedate me…" he mumbled quickly, and the director hesitated. Starchy fabric rustled as he approached, and he barely felt the needle prick into the vein on his arm. The fluid was warm as it sank into his bloodstream, and Reno distantly wished he'd asked for another sip of coffee.
"I'm scared of change and the days stay the same;
the world is spinning, but only in gray."
Quotes from Shatter Me, by Lindsey Stirling.