Title: Thicker Than Blood
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Cloud, Rufus
Summary:Cloud Strife never returned to Nibelheim. AU

Author's Note: Sorry about the really late update guys. Life's been crazy and Cloud refused to cooperate.

Chapter 3

So far the ride back to Junon had been quite mundane. A reality that undoubtedly assisted by the fact that Cloud was piloting – therefore not vomiting all over Rufus' suit – and also by the fact Tseng

Perhaps it was not tactful of him, but Rufus took a degree of glee in the Turk's weakness. Tseng was skilled in multiple disciplines. Martial arts, marksmanship, explosive, sabotage, spying. These were only a fraction of the abilities the Turk sported. Not so long ago he'd shared those skills with Rufus. 'Shared' being a relative term. How much choice he'd had in the matter was debatable.

Back when Rufus had still been a child and Tseng had still been his bodyguard, the Turk had insisted on training him. While the boy had been a eager student, there still had been moments where he'd been bored, tired or – as much as Rufus hated to admit – too lazy, digging his heels in and refusing to continue, only for Tseng to turn his stern gaze on him. Then he would veryquickly try again. These sudden changes in his own behaviour were so jarring that for a while Rufus had been convinced that Tseng had been hitting him with Confuse spells.

Even without the aid of materia, Tseng had been at hard taskmaster with incredibly high standards. Seemingly impossibly high except if not for the fact that Tseng had already achieved them. But flying? While Tseng could quote aviation texts back to front, he simply had no feel for the art. Many a time growing up, he'd watched other Turks make excuses as to why they should be the one at the controls, including things such as 'I need the practice', 'I get cramped sitting still', and 'My fortune cookie told me to'. After years of trying to match Tseng's skill, it was nice to know there was at least one area where he easily outstripped his mentor.

Rufus eyed the man in the opposite seat speculatively. Tseng apparently had no interest in doing the same to him, too absorbed in reading something on his PHS. A Tonberry model, he noted with amusement. Appropriate for a Turk. He'd have to look into getting one for himself.

"This is Gold Five calling Mama Bird. Come in Mama Bird." Cloud's voice cut through his revelry. Over the top of Tseng's seat, Rufus could see the blond speaking into his headset, telltale tightness spread up along his face. "Is the nest clean for eggs? Repeat: is the nest clean for eggs?"

Absurd code talk aside, what exactly was going on? From what Rufus could see, everything seemed innocent. The endless blue-green of the ocean had been replaced by the lacklustre sights on Junon. There was a bit of a brown haze over the city though this was nothing out of the ordinary. The airport ought to be right in front of them.

He started to unbuckle himself so he could the look out the forward window when Cloud said, "Rufus, stay put," in a voice that tolerated no argument. The younger man hadn't even bothered to glance in his direction.

Impressive.

The radio crackled. "Roger that, Gold Five, this is Mama Bird. There was a bit of mess, but it has been cleaned. Repeat: the nest is clean. Confirmation code 130342. That's 130342. You are good for landing on the presidential platform. You are good for landing."

"Roger Mama Bird. We'll commence landing immediately."

They did a pass over the airport once and Rufus thought he saw something on the landing pad, but they descended too quickly for him to identify it. So after they set down, he went to see it for himself. Sure enough there on the tarmac someone had sprayed three lines in iridescent green. The first two met each other making an approximately sixty degree angle with the third line slicing through them both. Rufus circled the graffiti until he could see it for what it was.

"An 'A'," he mused. "How kindergarten."

His companions joined him one by one. Tseng with his calculating dark gaze. The SOLDIER with his broadsword in hand. Cloud for his part showed a fair bit of restraint. Though his hand was placed near to the sheath of combat knife, deceptively relaxed. He really was learning.

There were other marks on the tarmac. Making up nine letters in total. All of them painted in that brilliant green colour. The letters were huge. It took a few minutes before they could identify what it spelled out. This was a message for the sky itself or perhaps the sky's rulers.

AVALANCHE.

"What happened?" Cloud asked.

The security chief for the airport was an older man, with thin wisps of grey hair that escaped under from under his red beret and a paunch that strained the buttons of his maroon uniform. "That's what I wanted to ask you. I heard that something happened aboard the ship the vice president was on. Something about—"

Cloud cut him off. "Livestock escaped. The vice president is fine. The ship is fine." Hopefully this would be enough information for to move on and get to the situation at hand. "Now what happened here?"

"We had one of the privates… a kid really. A really good kid and well…"

"Yes," he said pushing firmness into his voice. Cloud couldn't say he liked doing it. While wasn't his domain, he really needed the other man to get to the point. He had dealt with Baror before and while he was a good at his job, having held it since before Shinra had bought the airport, but he had a nasty tendency to ramble.

Baror shifted behind his desk. "Sorry," he apologized, apparently taking the hint. "There's no danger. Just some graffiti by one person, the boy I mentioned. We've got him in custody. Believe me, I looked into it personally. As far as I can tell, the fact that it was where the president's landing pad is a coincidence."

"Good."

Cloud opened the leftmost pouch on his belt,, withdrawing his PHS, and dialled Rufus.

Soon enough Rufus picked up. "Cloud, is everything satisfactory or should I run away in terror?"

"Yes, everything's fine." Though it would be nice if you did run away once in a while. "I should be back in about ten minutes."

"Captain Strife," Baror interjected. "Is there any chance I could have some of your time?"

Cloud was tempted to say no. He didn't like leaving Rufus during a potential situation, even he was with a Turk and a SOLDIER, plus he was already tired from his earlier fight. His head was starting to pulse in time with his muscles, but… As much as he hated politics, it would make his job easier to stay on the good side of the other security divisions.

"Rufus," he said into the speaker, "is there any chance Luxiere and the Turk would be willing to stay with you a bit longer."

There was the distant sound of the Rufus conferring with the others before answering, "The Turk is willing to stay, though the SOLDIER has to go."

He could live with that, especially if the Turk was who Cloud thought he was. "Okay, I'll see you later."

"Until then."

Cloud snapped his PHS shut and giving the security chief his full attention. With a respectful nod, Baror led him out of his office and down the hallway. "You've got to understand the prisoner… Park. He's a private assigned here. He often cleans the landing pads and runways. That's why nobody noticed him up there," Baror explained.

"Do you need my help with security here?"

"No, I can handle that. There won't be anymore graffiti found."

"But if AVALANCHE is operating in Junon…"

"AVALANCHE in Junon? Not likely. Park wouldn't be involved with that lot. He's a good kid. You know how it is these days," Baror protested hastily. "The name barely means anything anyways considering how many people use it. Idiots the lot of them. Shinra gives 'em a parking ticket and next they're writing the bloody word all on every building they see. Other places too. Alleys. Sidewalks…. Why just the other day I went into to the bathroom, and there scrawled right on the middle of the john was 'AVALANCHE'. Pissed right then and there." He laughed at his own joke.

Baror was right about few things. Rumours and graffiti aside, so far there was no sign of AVALANCHE operating anywhere other than Midgar.

"But it doesn't mean anything. It's a fad that those young people do. Not like us, right?" the chief continued.
Cloud frowned. He was only twenty. That was young, Right?

Okay he was getting side-tracked. "So why do you need me?"

"I was hoping you'd talk to him."

"I'm not trained in interrogation," Cloud pointed out. The closest experience he had was the many interviews with prospective additions to Rufus' security force.

"I don't care about that," Baror said hastily.

"So why me?"

"That's not what I wanted at all. I was hoping if you talked to him, you could help get him get his head on straight."

That still didn't explain why him and not someone who knew Park better. Baror himself seemed invested in the private. Cloud could've pointed it this out but he had long since found that silence was could be just as useful and fixing the chief with a puzzled look, waited.

Sure enough after less than twenty seconds, Baror seemed to get the message and finally elaborated.

"You see Park's older brother was stationed in Wutai, one of the southern provinces. Last month one of the local rebel cells bombed the barracks. Middle of the night and everything. Poor bastard didn't stand a chance."

It was a common story, one that Cloud was all too familiar with. Gritting his teeth, he knew what was coming next.

"Well, captain, I don't want to sound presumptuous. It's just I couldn't help but hear that you're from Nibelheim and everybody knows what happened there. General Sephiroth… Fucking Wutes," he cursed viciously. "Not to forget the rest of those folks either".

It was a painfully crude appeal. Baror had been quick to mention Sephiroth, only mentioning the actual villagers as an afterthought and forgetting Zack altogether. "Yes, we definitely shouldn't forget them," Cloud responded stiffly. Most of the time, the only reason anybody thought about Nibelheim was because the Winter General had perished defending it. As if Sephiroth had been the only one of importance who'd died that day.

Once Cloud might have let anger get the best of him, instead he exhaled outward letting the prickly emotion go with it. Yes, Baror was being an idiot, but he was a well-intentioned one. He wanted to help someone.

"Okay, I'll do it," Cloud said. There was no harm in trying.

"Thank you, Captain Strife. I won't forget it. Park's a likely lad. It'd be a shame for a boy to ruin his career so early on. You'll see for yourself."

They reached the holding area soon after. Just like Baror, this was from before Shinra purchased the airport. It was tiny with only a few cells, all of which were packed, and a single interrogation room. Painfully inadequate. Hopefully this would be remedied once the military building adjoined to the Junon Cannon was finished.

Off an encouraging look from Baror, Cloud headed into the interrogation room and nearly headed right back out. They most have given him the wrong prisoner or he was in the wrong room. Sitting at the other end of the interrogation table was a figure that was much too big to be a 'kid', 'boy' or 'lad'. Even sitting down, it was clear the prisoner was easily over six and half feet with shoulder like a Titan. When Cloud had been a child he'd dreamed of having that sort of build, big and strong. It had taken nearly two years of daily measurements before he'd accepted the fact he wasn't going grow past five and half feet.

At that moment dark eyes fastened onto the captain's stripes adorning Cloud's shoulder. Suddenly the prisoner was out of his seat, his right hand flying into a salute. The only problem was that he'd forgotten that he was wearing handcuffs and ended dragging up his other hand as well, whacking his head with both hands and the heavy metal connecting them.

"You'd be Private Park?" Cloud asked.

"No, sir," the prisoner said, cradling his bruised forehead.

"But Chief Baror said – "

"Well, it ismy name, sir. My last name. But everybody else calls me Private Arik. The chief's a bit old fashioned."

It was unusual. While there was no official rule at Shinra that said troopers couldn't be referred to by their first names, most recruits loved being called by their last names. Something about it making them seem tougher. If Cloud was honest with himself, he'd been one of them. Even his letters home to his mother had been signed with 'Strife'. Private Park's situation was almost… Private Park's…

Oh.

That would explain things.

Despite the prisoner's darkly tanned skin, Cloud could make out a faint blush crawling along his cheeks.

"Private Arik it is." And he'd thought Cloud was bad.

"Thank you, sir." The private gave him another, less disastrous, salute.

Beyond this short conversation, Cloud wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Baror that he wasn't trained in interrogation. What he'd failed to mention was that he wasn't naturally social. The insane maze that made up social niceties was more Rufus' area of expertise, though admittedly the vice president only bothered with the 'nice' part when he felt like it.

But it didn't hurt to try.

Sighing, he took the seat across from Arik. "At ease, soldier," he said gently, removing his helmet.

The private didn't respond immediately; too busy eying his hair as Cloud's spikes, free from their confines, sprung out in every direction.

"It's natural," he explained at Arik's expression. If Cloud had had any lingering doubts that this hulking figure was a teenager, this put them to rest. Chances were Arik hadn't stopped growing yet. It really wasn't fair.

"Really?" Arik's ingrained deference to a superior officer faded slightly, the etchings of his face morphing from surprise into leery scepticism.

At least it gave him something to talk about. "Really. It isn't very common here though. You find it most in small towns on the Western Continent. Still if you go to the restaurant on Hades Street, the bartender's got it as well. His hair sticks straight up."

Zack had had gravity defying hair too. Hey Cloud, we're hair mates… What? You don't understand what that means? Really? …okay, it's like soul mates. Only hairier. Get it?

Cloud had gotten it from his mother. She'd been thrilled that her only child had inherited it. She'd always insisted he not cut short. It makes you stand out. All the girls will see how handsome you are, she'd said.

They'll all fall in love with you. He'd been five when he'd first been told this, and that had been all the incentive he'd needed to shave off every last hair.

Memories… Unlike the encounter with the body before, this time the memories were less intrusive ones. This was how they'd want him to remember them. Knowing Zack, if Cloud spent too much time dwelling on regrets, the perky First would end up haunting him from beyond the grave, moaning bad jokes in an attempt to get him to laugh.

The thought gave him strength and so Cloud turned his mind to the matter at hand. "So why'd you do it?" he asked, making a point to keep his tone calm and impartial.

"What? You mean you… don't think I'm a terrorist?" Arik said, nails dug deeply into the palms of his hands.

"No."

"Why not?" The private actually sounded a little insulted by this.

"Because you don't seem the type." So far the teenager seemed much too straight forward. Besides Cloud seriously doubted an AVALANCHE member would refer to himself as a terrorist. From what he'd heard the group was essentially a cult, the self-appointed saviours of the Planet. If everyone who sprayed the word AVALANCHE on something was actually a member, the military would easily be outnumbered…

Ugh. Nice thought.

"How do you know?"

"Do you think mako is made up of souls?" Cloud said. It had always amazed him there were people out who believed that insanity.

"No."

Maybe that's how he should treat this entire thing. While he had rarely interrogated anyone, he had interviewed many people for positions in Rufus' security detail – a common experience as Rufus tended to drive his bodyguards off. Treat like an interview.

"Do you think we shouldn't have mako heaters?" Cloud had had a bit of a hand with this question since Baror had given a brief account of Arik's history. The private was from Icicle Inn which was dependent on mako energy to keep from freezing in the winter.

"…no."

Cloud paused, braced himself, and said, "Is Shinra evil?"

The private's reaction was minute, his features unchanged by the question as if it had never brushed his ears. Only the faint fragrance of iron and the gleam of crimson on his bottom lip hinted otherwise.

"I know my brother wasn't. He… we weren't even supposed to be infantry. We came to Midgar to join SOLDIER, but he was too old and I failed the test. He wanted to go home. I didn't. I wanted to be important. Famous. To matter. I thought anything could happen in Midgar, magical like the City of the Ancients." Arik said eventually, the words came out slowly in a dull monotone. "But it wasn't. There were barely any jobs, especially for our age, and everything was so expensive… Before we knew it there wasn't enough money to get us home and then there wasn't enough to keep us fed. It was join the infantry or starve. There was nothing else."

There was nothing Cloud could say to this. Too many who came to join SOLDIER ended up in the infantry whether they wanted to enlist or not. It was a common theme with too many variations, harsh whispers that flooded the entire trooper corps.

"Then they tore us apart. And he…" Arik let a strangled noise.

"Why'd you spray paint the landing pad?" Cloud asked as gently as he could, even so the words seemed ungainly cruel things.

"He didn't die away. They found him far from his bunk. There were blood marks across the floor. He must have dragged himself all the way. He was looking for help – I know he was – but there wasn't any. He d died like that. No one cared." Arik's voice was barely more than a whisper. "Then when we heard the vice president was in danger… Everybody. Everybody cared…. I just… I COULDN'T… " The youth's expression was torn between rage and a desperate pleading. "They all were doing everything possible to help him because he was important. He mattered and Nathan… he didn't."

He stared at Cloud.

There were lots of things that could have said to the private's words. About how it wasn't Shinra's fault that Arik and his brother hadn't saved enough money. How there were plenty of people who were happy in the trooper corps, himself included. How if Shinra's vice president had died, it would've hurt everyone. But to even think of saying anything of those things out loud, Cloud would've had to been callous enough to make Rufus look like the very definition of compassion.

Instead he said, "I lost family to Wutai too. It wasn't my fault either. It wasn't anybody's. And they matter. He did too." Even this seemed like a paltry offering. "If you want, maybe in the future we could talk." He got up and gave the youth a soft touch on the shoulder. Then he left.

Security Chief Baror was waiting outside. Cloud doubted he'd moved a muscle.

"How'd it go?" Baror said, a touch of anxiousness poking through his professional visage.

"Well, I don't think he's an AVALANCHE member if that means anything and I not sure I helped. Maybe it'd be better if he could go home for a while." This wasn't the sort of thing he was good at. As far as he knew he might have made things worse. "I still don't know why you wanted me to talk to him."

"You both lost people to the Wutains."

"So have many others," Cloud pointed out. Almost everyone in the military. Arik probably had friends who had gone through similar experiences.

"Yes, but most of them don't have the vice president's ear," Baror answered. "I was hoping that…"You saw Park. He's a good kid – a little messed up that's all. I was hoping you might tell that to young Mr. Shinra. Park's no terrorist. He's no one important."

Yes, he is, Cloud thought.

"So can you talk to him?" Baror trailed off. His forehead creased, the deep wrinkles making him seem all the older.

"I can try."

"Just please try to talk to him. Do it before Administrative Research talks to Park."

Rufus might have stretched the truth a touch when he'd told Cloud that the SOLDIER – Luxiere was it? – had had to go. In reality, the Second had merely requested to use the bathroom and Rufus had used Cloud's assent to excuse him altogether. While he imagined his bodyguard might have objected to his ever so precise use of language, it nonetheless left Rufus in good company.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Tseng."

Despite his greeting, Rufus was utterly nonplussed when the Turk utterly ignored him and instead locked the door and proceeded to make a sweep of the apartment, checking for intruders or sabotage. For his own part, Rufus walked over to where Dark Nation napped on his cat bed. Leaning down, Rufus fondly scratch it behind the ears. Even in its sleep, the huge cat sensed him, pressing its head against its master's fingers and letting out a sound that sounded more like thunder than purring.

It only it was as easy to figure out humans, Rufus mused as he petted the cat and watched Tseng's movements as he checked one room after another. But then again it at least kept things interesting.

After a good twenty minutes, the Turk seemed satisfied. "The apartment appears clear, sir," he said before stationing himself beside the door.

This last action elicited annoyance in Rufus. "Tseng, it's hardly necessary for you to stand there. You're perfectly capable of watching the door from over here."

"True."

"Must I make that an order?"

"Must you, sir?" He really was in an ornery mood today.

"Please Tseng, I would appreciate your company."
Mercifully this was all it took to get the Turk to join him. "I noticed you're favouring your left arm. I trust you're recovering." Tseng had never liked depending on materia or potions, preferring to let things heal naturally. He'd always thought it was important to learn how to work through the pain.

"I am, sir," Tseng replied. It was an empty statement, lacking any real flavour, giving not even a minute taste of the history behind it. It was pointless to inquire though; like most things with the Turk, the statement had no doubt been purposely hollow, leaving Rufus to guess. Since being promoted to Director of Administrative Research, Tseng no longer went on the more dangerous missions. Maybe there'd been an assassination attempt or a mishap during a training session?

Rufus found himself wondering how they compared now. Personally he'd made a point to keep up his own physical training. A task made difficult by the lack of appropriate instructors. That being said, with his new duties perhaps Tseng had less time to maintain his own physical skills.

Rufus had been eighteen when he'd last seen Tseng and in the intervening years had made the Turk smaller somehow. It hardly mattered. Tseng had taught him much of what he knew. Even if Rufus was capable of beating him in a spar, no doubt the Turk had 'forgotten' to teach Rufus all his tricks, keeping a few up his sleeve. The only way to find out how they really compared was to push him into a real fight, a situation that was intolerable.

"You are welcome to visit my personal doctor if necessary," Rufus offered.

"Thank you, sir."

It seemed it fell on Rufus to make any sort of civilized conversation. "I trust the rest of your department is doing well," he said.

"At the moment." An all true proclamation. The Turks had the highest casualty outside of troopers on front lines. In his late thirties, Tseng was considered old.

"Any luck finding new recruits?" Tseng didn't even bother answering that one. No doubt since his little rebellion, that area of information was sealed to him. So he tried another more distasteful avenue. "Any news of my father?"

Finally he got a proper answer. "The President is well. His last physical gave him an excellent bill of health. He's currently in the process increasing his fishery holdings. He was hoping to speak to you about it."

"You heard this from him personally?"

His father wanted to talk to him? Now that was an interesting development. They'd been on lukewarm terms the last while. When it came to the company, Rufus had been stuck doing remedial work, vice president in name only. As far as he could tell, the only reason he kept the title was his father didn't want to admit he couldn't control his own son.

"Yes, sir. Just yesterday," Tseng said.

This made things even more interesting. His father rarely dealt with the leader of the Turks in person. Officially as head of the military, Heidegger was also in charge of the Turks. With more everyday matters the President used him as an intermediary but for more subtle matters… It might mean nothing, jumping to conclusions could be just as deceptive as propaganda.

"Anything else you think I should know?"

"Nothing else, sir."

Tseng's persistent use of 'sir' bothered him. It was one thing when Cloud slipped up and called him that. At more formal occasions, the trooper felt uncomfortable using familiar terms for his employer. It was understandable. This, on the other hand, was entirely different. Just like the earlier statement, this was purposeful. An impenetrable wall of propriety.

"Really, Tseng, you've known me since I was five. You were my bodyguard for fourteen years. You don't need to address me with such proper terms."

"I disagree, sir."

"And I believe that is entirely childish of you," Rufus stated, resisting the urge the grit his teeth.
The Wutain looked at him, those dark eyes of his seemingly looking straight through him. "It's interesting to hear that from you. Your behaviour of late has been hardly spoken well of you."

"If you're speaking of the incident a few years ago. That was – "

Tseng interrupted him. "I'm speaking of today. The incident in the helicopter for example. Taking yourself out of your harness could've been disastrous."

Rufus scoffed. "Unlikely."

"You were well aware that something was going on. If the helicopter had been damaged, you could have been harmed – "

"I don't see why – "

" – or your flailing limbs could've distracted the pilots and caused us to crash."

"All of which was highly unlikely."

"Then there is the incident on the freighter. As I understand you left the safety of the bridge despite multiple warnings from security personnel to confront the Epiolni yourself."

Rufus dismissed this out of hand. "I hardly see what that has to do with anything. I'm trained in combat. It was my chose to put myself in danger."

"And what of Lieutenant Luxiere and Captain Strife?"

"What of them?" Rufus demanded.

"What about the danger you exposed them to?"

"They're perfectly fine."

"It could've gone otherwise. By leaving your safe zone, you forced them to rush to your side, exposing them to attack rather than allowing them to slowly, carefully bring the situation under control. You put their lives in danger."

Perhaps the most frustrating part of Tseng lambasting him was that the Turk's voice never rose. He spoke in a smooth, reasonable tone as if he were talking about the most obvious thing on the Planet. This was a way of speaking which Rufus had learned to emulate but never master. It made him feel childish.

"Nothing happened," Rufus pointed out.

"But it could've. Either you did not think of it," Tseng said. "Or you did not care."

Dark Nation continued to sleep.

Soon after Cloud reached Rufus' apartment, the Turk left, giving the trooper a respectful nod on his way out.

"I've told the nightshift that you're here, so I'll see you tomorrow," Cloud said to Rufus.

He was about to follow the Turk out the when Rufus said to him, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to stay for dinner."

"Rufus, I'm exhausted. I just want to go to bed." In his mind's eye, his cramped room in the barracks seemed have turned into a serene paradise, the pillows made of the softest Chocobo down.

"I would appreciate the company. You are welcome to spend the night in the guest room," Rufus said.

It was the way Rufus said this, opposed to the actual words, which roused Cloud from his growing drowsiness. It lacked the vice president's normal arrogance. His speech generally had an assumption threaded in it, a belief that everyone would do whatever he said. But this time, it seemed like a genuine request.

"Okay," Cloud said. "I'll stay."

Thankfully Rufus sensed that Cloud needed some time to recuperate, not talking anymore, and so Cloud headed towards the sofa, planning to toss aside all dignity and collapse on it. Unfortunately fate had other ideas in mind. At that moment, Dark Nation woke and as if the damn cat could read his mind, it gracefully loped across the room throwing itself onto the sofa.

"Just push him off," Rufus suggested, idly looking up from a book.

It was easy enough for Rufus to say. He'd trained the cat. Cloud watched as Dark Nation glowered up at him, the tentacle on its head lashing back and forth angrily. Dark Nation used concrete scratching posts.
So instead of pressing the issue, he looked for another place to rest. There were chairs and a loveseat, but there was nothing big enough for him to properly lie down on except for… Oh, what the heck. He'd already been prepared to lose some dignity. Rest was worth losing even more.

Cloud ended up getting a nap on Dark Nation's cat bed.

The scent of dinner woke Cloud. It was if he had SOLDIER senses because could've sworn he smelled all the way down the hall. Before he knew it, he was up and opening the door, startling the busboy delivering the food. Then having apologized to the aforemention busboy, eagerly brought a tray of food to the table.

Naturally Dark Nation spotted the tray right away and prompt;y began rubbing against his legs. Cloud was fairly sure the cat was attempting to trip him and relented slightly, giving it a bit of the food, and was heartened when Dark Nation tasted the food, spat it out, hissed at it, and then, with its nose in the air, strode away from the piece of tofu.

"You really shouldn't feed him extra food. It isn't good for him," Rufus said evenly.

"Sorry." He couldn't bring himself to mean it.

"It's not necessary."

The food was good. Cloud was used to vegetarian meals - meat was expensive in small towns – though he'd never had one this exotic. It was subtly spiced, making you slowly devour each mouthful so you could catalogue all the flavours. The vegetables were cooked carefully so not to lose their colours. Pristine yellow corn, vivid orange carrots, stunning purple eggplants and deep red tomatoes adorned the plate, and nestled among them was pieces tofu roasted a gently brown.

"How'd it go with Tseng?" Cloud asked.

"Fine. Why do you ask?" Rufus answered as he sliced a piece tomato, its crimson insides spilling over his plate.

"He was your previous bodyguard, right?"

Rufus didn't glance up, focusing entirely on his plate. "Yes. An astute observation on your part."

"Wasn't this for him?" While they had shared a number of meals, this was quite different from what Rufus normally ordered.

"Yes, but I'm afraid Director Tseng declined my invitation.

"Did you apologize to him?" Knowing Rufus he had probably done something.

This got Rufus attention. The older blond gave him the look that he reserved for a special kind of idiot.

"Whatever would I apologize for?"

Normally Cloud wouldn't have considered saying these things. Maybe it was the exhaustion talking. Or maybe that conversation with that private? He'd tried to talk to Arik, hoping to help him. Cloud wondered if he was turning into a less sensible version of Zack. Whatever insanity had prompted him to talk that way to the vice president? "Never mind."

Rufus raised an eyebrow at him. "I do believe my bodyguard wants to be my psychiatrist as well." He laughed. Then seemingly content with Cloud's embarrassment, Rufus added in a gentler tone. "It's been an interesting day."

Cloud could agree with that.