Title: All That Never Was (Working title)
Chapter: 2 / 5 (?)
Characters: Rufus, Lazard, President ShinRa (this chapter)
Rating: PG
Genre: Drama, Family
Summary: In the wake of Midgar's destruction, Rufus remembers a brother who was never truly his.
A/N: Argh! Finally! This chapter was like pulling teeth. I'm still not satisfied, so I hope it is okay for you guys.
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core, Advent's Children, Before Crisis or Dirge of Cerberus, nor do I make any profits due to them.
I can. I can.
The gulls continue to sing, their voices raspy. The sound is like sandpaper on the man's ears.
I can't.
The buildings of the sector four plate were almost steel and concrete. Even in broad daylight, it made the entire world seem awash with grey.
So in contrast the park was a bit strange to thirteen year old Rufus. The grass, thick underneath his feet was a fresh green, an unusual colour to see in such large quantities. He'd only ever seen it in pictures, paintings or the occasional salad. It was nothing like the sickly green by-product of mako-lights that sometimes stained walls and ceilings.
"I am not a great man. Nor a particularly good one," President ShinRa said. He stood on a small podium wore simple clothing, a maroon flannel shirt and a pair of beige slacks. Just beside him stood Rufus wearing similarly casual clothes, a T-shirt and jeans.
A crowd surrounded him, filled with ShinRa employees, gawkers and more than a healthy number of reporters. All of whom where utterly transfixed on the president.
"But I am a man with responsibilities." Rufus' father spoke hesitantly, his face slightly flushed.
It seemed all so real. From Father's looks, the casual clothes to the awkwardness of Father's speech, making it seem almost spontaneous. Rufus knew better of course. Father had specifically requested the clothes for the occasion and for the last few days, he'd even drilled Rufus on what his reactions were supposed to be, practicing it with him a few times. Anything less than perfection was not an option.
It was because of this that Rufus found himself scanning the crowd for one particular individual. He found him near the back. Lazard's hair had grown out, smooth blonde tresses lightly skimming the top of his shoulders, his eyes firmly fastened on Rufus' father.
"Midgar has been good to me and I am a man with responsibilities."
Rufus waited.
"I have a responsibility to my son."
Lazard's reaction was miniscule, a slight twitching of the face. It was there and then it was gone, vanished under a mask of mild interest that the rest of the ShinRa employees sported. So quick was it that it could've been a trick of the light, but Rufus was sure he'd seen it. He was sure.
"I have a responsibility as a father," continued the president. Rufus wanted to watch further but he had a job to do, and made himself tear his eyes away from Lazard.
He tightly gripped the fabric of his jeans tightly and examined his shoes carefully, faking a shy expression. They were sneakers and had gigantic red logos adorning the sides and backs. They had never been properly broken in, making feet ache. He found himself longing for the soft black leather of dress shoes.
"Today is my son's thirteenth birthday—the beginning of his journey to become a man—and I have a responsibility to lead by example." With that his father pulled Rufus up onto the podium where he put a firm hand on his son. Rufus had to keep himself from stiffening, letting the leaden weight of it push hard into the meat of his shoulder.
"Rufus," his father said, looking deeply into his son's face, "the City of Midgar has welcomed our family. Trusted us. Helping us earn the bread we eat and the clothes on our backs… So for your birthday, I give you an important lesson. This park is dedicated to you. Named with your name. It's for the common people of this fair city. A small payment for all they have given us."
"Because I want you to remember…" President ShinRa waved a beefy hand towards the park. The other one dug painfully into Rufus. "…a ShinRa always pays his debts."
The crowd applauded and Rufus covered his face in a small grin and looked cautiously up at his father. The president gazed down at him, giving his son the smallest of nods.
Rufus felt his stomach flip, fighting down the urge to grin even wider. It wouldn't look real if he did.
Nonetheless, the temptation was almost overwhelming. Maybe the speech and everything were all fake, but Father had fooled them and Rufus had helped. He'd shown he could be useful.
Even more importantly, his father had noticed.
"Rufus! Young Mr. ShinRa!" Reporters rushed towards him, all ready to see who could shove their cameras or recorder closest to his face. "Can we have a moment of your time, please?"
This was his moment. This was the time he could prove he could be useful in his own right.
Yes, it a slightly unusual present, but Father… No, too formal. ...Yeah, it's not a normal present, but Dad's a really good guy. I mean I've never really seen a place for kids to play here, so that he'd do that… That was better.
The reporters were almost there now and Rufus prepared himself to meet them, squaring his shoulders and plastered a nervous expression on his face. It had to seem real afterall.
"Rufus, how do you feel about—"
President ShinRa got there first. "Really, ladies and gentlemen," he chastised. "Give the poor boy a break. He has already endured an entirely unorthodox present for his birthday from his old man." The reporters tittered. "Now you want to take up all his free time.—Honestly, if you have any further questions, you're welcome to ask me."
"But Father, it's oka…" Rufus began but stopped quickly as his father leaned down.
Framed by plump smiling features, Father's eyes were two chips of ice.
"Enjoy your birthday, son," he said and with that gave the boy a small shove.
Rufus spent the next while making small talk with some of the crowd members. Where did he go to school? Who were his friends? Even stupid questions about things like the amount of his allowance or his favourite colour.
He could've done it in his sleep. He'd been doing this as far back as he could remember and it never changed. It probably never would. Why they even cared, he'd never know…
Actually, they probably didn't.
The number of people surrounding Rufus was dwindling rapidly. His father was off making another impassioned speech and one by one, the men and women talking to Rufus made excuses, and then rushed over to where the president was without so much as a glance backward.
Before he knew it, they were almost all gone. Not that he cared of course. It was nice to have a break.
As to what to do in the mean time… He should probably look around the park. People might ask him about it and it would be wrong to appear ignorant about a place that bore his own name. You always need to know everything about everything in your life, Rufus. Always.
Passing the crowd, he noticed a playground. It seemed as good a place as any to start.
It was then he noticed Lazard. The man was standing at the back of the horde, looking almost bored. He spotted Rufus, raised an eyebrow, and then headed towards him.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked.
The mob was continuing to grow around Father. They gazed at him with admiration, curiosity and respect. "Alright."
They walked in silence for a time. Saplings dotted the landscape, their trunks the warm brown that could only be found in living wood. Rufus couldn't help but note how skinny they were. Around the edges of the park thick skyscrapers reared high into the sky, making the little trees seem pitiful in comparison.
He eyed Lazard. "I see you got a real suit." It was a nice one, a deep blue pinstriped blazer accented by a tie of the same colour and contrasted by a pair of perfectly pressed white pants and matching gloves. Really nice, the tailored lines and smooth contours made Lazard seem all the taller.
"I guess I did at that," Lazard said. The corners of his lips twitched. "I have to admit I'm surprised you don't have one on. Don't you like them anymore?"
"I've got lots of suits." Frankly, he wished he was wearing one now.
"Of course you—" Rufus stopped at this but the words trailed off, and instead Lazard said: "Of course."
They meandered on until finally they reached the playground. Lazard gestured at the swings before settling into one.
Rufus merely stared at the structure. It was bright yellow; there apparently were racing cars, ambulances, police cars and fire trucks painted on top of it. Altogether it looked really ugly. Why would anyone want to use such this thing, let alone children?
"You sit on swings, Rufus. You do know that don't you?" This broke the boy out of his thoughts.
"I do," Rufus snapped before briskly seating himself in the swing next to Lazard.
He moved a little too quickly, nearly falling out the back and had to grab the swing's ropes to pull himself back up.
"I see you do." The bastard seemed amused.
Rufus glowered at Lazard and found himself rather pleased when the man's expression became somewhat uneasy.
If only it had been because of him. "Is there a reason he's following us?"
Rufus followed Lazard's gaze to see a navy-dressed man. "Oh, that's Tseng. He's mine."
Despite the distinct uniform, Tseng had been a nonentity during the president's speech. Now that it was over, he'd seemed to pop in existence. Currently he was making a Turk hanging out at a playground seem like a perfectly normal occurrence.
It was kind of neat.
"Would he agree?"
"Not like that," Rufus said. "He's my bodyguard. He takes care of me."
Not that he needed taking care of.
"It's been a while, but didn't you have a different Turk last time we met?" Lazard asked.
"It doesn't matter," Rufus stated. It was over and done with.
"Brown eyes. Short and a bit broader than most women. Brown hair."
"Grey. She had grey hair." So few Turks had that hair colour. He'd never really thought about it.
"Where is she now?"
"She's gone. Okay?" Rufus muttered. A year ago, Veld had sent her on assignment and she had never came back.
"I'm sorry."
It had happened about a year ago. Father had never even told him, but that wasn't his fault. Rufus should've figured it out for himself.
She had been gone for so long. It hadn't even occurred to Rufus that she could die. Miyuki had been a fact of life. She'd been around as far back as he could remember. She'd always been there. So she always would be there. Or so he had thought.
She'd been gone for weeks and weeks. It hadn't been until Tseng had appeared one day that it had finally sunk in. Even then it had taken ages to for him to work up the guts to ask Tseng about her, and even more time for him to stop expecting her to simply appear one day as if nothing happened.
He'd been so stupid.
"If I may ask, what was her name?" Lazard said. He sounded almost gentle.
"Miyuki."
"It's a very pretty name."
"I know—but she hated it. Said it was too girly a name for a Turk." He had never understood why she didn't change it.
"She seemed very protective of you."
"It was her job." She had never pretended otherwise.
Rufus could hear the brush of sand on plastic and realised his feet had moving of their own accord, unconsciously digging a trench in the sand below the swings. He hadn't been paying attention, letting everything come out like he was five again.
That was not acceptable.
"Why are you even asking this?"
"Let's say I'm very curious about ShinRa Incorporated."
"That's not an answer."
"That's all you're going to get."
"But you weren't asking about the company. You were asking about me and mine."
Lazard sighed, rubbing his temples. "I was. Wasn't I?" He shifted slightly, his plastic seat squeaking.
He seemed to be mulling something over for a moment before answering: "I guess I wonder what your life is like. Bodyguards. Money. Lots of fancy suits. Son to the richest man in the world." At this, Lazard let out a bark of rough laughter. "But I digress. I'm sure I'm not the only who's wondered about such things."
Rufus wanted to fidget but settled for picking at his T-shirt instead. The thing was way too big for him and had a picture of a monkey snowboarding on the front of it. It wasn't the sort of thing he liked. It wasn't him.
"It's… busy," Rufus said. "I've got lots of tutors and I'm expected learn about the business. Tseng teaches me sometimes." Business. Fighting. Politics…
The things that let a person control the world. Things that would teach him to control his world. He'd dress the way he wanted. He'd act the way he wanted. He'd be able to keep everything, everyone he wanted and dispose of the rest.
He wasn't stupid. Probably no one else learned those sort of things. He was probably unusual when it came to his education. Special. Alone. You're not one of them, Rufus.
…but could Lazard really be considered one of 'them?'
Sound casual. It would go better if he sounded casual. "What was it like when you were my age?" Rufus asked.
"Hard."
A silence seemed to descend and stayed there for what seemed like hours. The only sound was the pounding of Rufus' heart.
"I was 'hired' by the company at about your age. I thought it was my way out of the Slums for me and my mother, a way to improve things. I was younger… different from everyone else. The employees thought I'd been given a free pass and they let me know it. As if it was my fault
"They never trusted me to do my job, always looking over my shoulder, waiting for me to fail. Criticising everything. There was never any room for mistakes… Just like the Slums."
"I know what's that's like," Rufus said quietly.
Lazard eyed him for a second. "No, you don't," he said. Letting out a rough bark of laughter, he brought a white-gloved hand around, landing it on top Rufus' head.
The boy froze at the touch before reminding himself that this sort of thing happened to normal children all the time. Wasn't he supposed to be acting like one? Either way, it wasn't like it felt wrong. The fingers danced back and forth—apparently messing up his hair—made his scalp tingle a little but other than that it was fine.
They continued to sit there for a while, in the mid-afternoon sun, taking in blue of the sky and the green of the park in silence. Rufus thought it actually felt… good.
He wondered if he could ask Lazard more questions.
"Rufus! Lazard! I wasn't aware that you two knew each other."
Father had arrived. The blinding camera flashes indicating his mob of reporters were close behind, and Tseng had once again disappeared.
Lazard was on his feet instantly, marching over to greet Rufus' father. "President ShinRa, it's an honour as always." They shook briefly. "I noticed young Rufus exploring and thought if he was half the man his father was..."
"You—as always—flatter me. Unfortunately given my 'roundness,' I suspect my little boy is a great deal less than that."
"So formal?" he queried, gesturing to Lazard's clothing. "I did give permission for my employees to relax. After all, birthdays are a time to have fun. A way to to get away from the office."
"Forgive me, sir. It took me a lot of hard work to earn this suit," Lazard replied, calmly straightening his blazer. "I'm not ready to give it up just yet."
"And I'm not ready for you to give it up. You fit it too well." The president laughed genially. "Rufus, come join us."
Up until then, Rufus had been quietly taking this all in, a cold sensation growing in the pit of his gut. He mechanically got up and stood directly in front of his father, ignoring the familiar rough grip on his shoulders.
"You could due to watch Mr. Deusericus here, son. When he first joined the company, he could barely read. Look at him now! Only twenty and already the head of our Human Resource department…" Father said. He stroked his blonde moustache thoughtfully. "Hmmm… Lazard?"
"Yes sir?" He seemed so alert and confident.
"By any chance would you be interested in talking to the reporters. Your story would make for excellent human interest."
"I live to serve," Lazard said wryly. He was professional and sleek.
"Hah! Good man," President ShinRa rumbled, clapping him on the back.
Why had Rufus been so stupid? So naïve?
No. Nothing had changed. It didn't matter. Not at all.
With that, Lazard and Rufus shared a gaze and a smile.
"Lazard."
"Rufus."
Twin smiles as bright and shiny as well-made plastic.
Then the two men left and the boy watched them go. He and Lazard were more alike than he'd hoped. Much more.
So this was his competition.
To be continued…