Chapter 18
It didn't occur to Rikku until just that moment that she should be afraid of him. After all, he was just Auron Lynwood, the stoic office guy who seemed overly fond of sunglasses. He'd always had the mysterious, vaguely dangerous aura about him, but Rikku had found it sexy, not scary. Seymour's right hand man. Only now he was Auron Lynwood, CIA mole, traitor, and suddenly he seemed much bigger and stronger than before. What lengths would he go to in order to keep her quiet?
He saw the shift in her expression, and quickly held up a hand. "Wait," he said quietly, urgently, but with some measure of assertiveness. "Just wait a second."
She took a step back, but something in his face made her hesitate. "How long have you been spying on us?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking (and failing).
Sighing, he took off his sunglasses and looked down to polish them. "Ten years. Give or take."
For some reason, Rikku felt her eyes stinging. She barely knew him, and she herself had only been working for SIN for a couple of years, but even so, his betrayal hurt. It seemed to have knocked the wind out of her.
"Why?"
His one good eye came up to meet hers again. "My best friend's wife was a casualty. SIN had targeted him, and she died instead. Until that moment, I hadn't allowed myself to ponder how many innocent people we might have accidentally killed in the past. Or maybe not accidentally. I convinced myself that what we do is necessary. Taking out evil, greedy people and doing the world a favour. Then I woke up and realized that SIN is just as bad – if not worse – than anything else out there. I realized . . ."
He paused here, and Rikku found herself holding her breath.
"I realized that I had been the enemy all along. And I didn't want to live my life that way."
"Accidents happen," Rikku heard herself say. "But Auron . . . the people we go after . . . they are the enemy. Guerrilla warlords, drug cartels, crooked business moguls . . . surely you can see that we do some good?"
"We don't have the right to decide that, Rikku," he sighed, turning away from her. "A lot of the time, we just make things worse. Guerilla warlords? For every guy we take out, six others vie to take his place. Same with the drug rings and crooked businessmen. It doesn't matter how many people go down. More will come, and more innocent lives will pay the price."
"If what we do is so evil, then why do we keep getting contracts? If we weren't making some kind of difference in the world, why is the demand so high?" she demanded, a note of desperation filtering into her voice.
"It's an endless cycle, Rikku. We're nothing but the rope in an endless tug-of-war."
She blinked, and then frowned. "What do you mean?"
He gave her a humourless smirk. "Who do you think hires us most of the time? We get paid by corrupt men to take out other corrupt men, in order to free up this scrap of land or another, or an oil reserve, or to gain the advantage in an arms race. If you haven't figured out by now just how our government operates, then I weep for your future."
Rikku shook her head and bit her lip, letting the tears spill over. "Look," she pleaded, "I'm barely out of internship, for God's sake. I-I can't . . . I'm not part of any –"
"Yes you are," he insisted, with a sudden fierceness that took her by surprise. "That's just it, Rikku. The fact that you know what it is we do and still turn a blind eye means that you are just as responsible as the men who first organized SIN. We all have blood on our hands. Only now, I'm choosing to do some good with the things that I've seen and learned."
He stopped and looked away from her again, seeming to choose his next words very carefully. "You have a very narrow window of opportunity here, kid. I'm offering you a golden opportunity here. On a silver platter."
"A golden opportunity on a silver platter, huh? Nice metaphor." She tried to smile, and found that she couldn't. "What are you talking about?"
"You have a chance to make things right," he pressed. "Imagine being able to help right some of the wrongs you've been a part of. Work with me, and the CIA, and we can bring down SIN from the inside out."
A coldness seemed to settle in Rikku's stomach, while something warm grabbed hold of her heart. It was a discomfiting feeling, not knowing whether to feel scared or hopeful. Free, or even more trapped than before. Which was the lesser of two evils?
"Or else what?" She didn't want to have to ask.
Auron breathed a deep, barely audible sigh. "Or else I will be put in a very, very awkward position. One that I don't want to be in."
Their gazes held for an almost uncomfortably long period of time. Finally, unclenching her jaw, Rikku nodded. "Alright. I'm in."
An unexpected smirk fell on Auron's lips. "Tired of sleepless nights?"
"You're damn right I am."
000
She was finally asleep, after the entire night passed them by and they were well into the next day. Tidus, propped up on his elbow at her side, gazed down at her with tired, worn-out eyes. He didn't think it was possible for one person to cry so hard for so long. All he could do was watch her helplessly, unable to offer any solace other than the comfort of his arms and the broad expanse of his chest. It was as though she had lost her mother all over again, reduced once more to a grief-stricken twelve-year-old with the ground crumbling beneath her. What could he say to her? What could he possibly do to make such hurt go away?
So he stayed with her, silent and maddened by his own incapacities, until Yuna drained herself into some semblance of peace. Her skin was so white that she nearly matched the barren sheets around them. And it was then that he knew – he knew – that there was no way he could do this with her in tow. She was too invested in that damned file. It made her weak. It made her lose focus. Could he blame her?
But this would be risky enough even if she was in a more stable frame of mind. He would need all his concentration, which wouldn't be possible if part of him was worrying about her, wondering if she was safe.
Sighing, Tidus turned away from her and rolled off the bed, ignoring every creak and moan his muscles gave. He had a cramp in his shoulder from cradling her. Decided not to give it too much thought.
Two days. Two days, and he'd be face to face with all the might of SIN in a confined opera house. He had just enough time to learn the buildings schematics, its ins and outs, and become familiar with every possible contingency plan. Of course, Seymour and his team were probably thinking the exact same thing. Hell, they might even be two steps of him already.
But there was something about the opera house that Seymour likely didn't know. Something that he couldn't possibly know without seeing the place for himself with his own two eyes, rather than via satellite. And it was this one, miniscule shred of information that allowed Tidus to think that maybe, somehow, he could pull this off. Maybe.
He did not like false hope. It didn't sit well with him. His mind was always running in parallels, calculating odds, framing possible scenarios he might come up against. Hope was dangerous, and it made one sloppy. With his and Yuna's lives at stake as they were, there was no room for it.
But he couldn't help it. Looking at her, feeling the way he did whenever she was near, it was all he could do.
He dressed quietly and then slipped out the door, leaving her to her own private oblivion.
000
Yuna peeled her eyes open and lay blinking in the late afternoon light. Her body felt weak and empty, almost weightless, and she contemplated going back to sleep. She couldn't ever remember feeling so exhausted in all her life. In the wake of so much sadness, so much grief, her body seemed incapable of summoning another emotion. She was numb.
Her gaze lingered on the empty space next to her. She could still smell his body on the sheets, and the wrinkles in the fabric were molded to fit his contours. She wasn't surprised to see him gone.
She eventually crawled out of bed and forced herself to take a shower, knowing that the hot water and steam would help clear her head and soothe her. By the time she finished towel-drying her hair, Tidus had returned.
He was sitting at the small round table when she emerged from the bathroom, her skin still pink and smelling of soap. There were numerous papers and diagrams spread over the table's surface, and what appeared to be blueprints. Yuna came over to stand at his side. Looking up at her, he wrapped an arm around her hips and squeezed her for a moment. He didn't ask if she was okay.
"What is all this?" she asked. Her voice sounded hoarse and decayed.
"An original outline of the Opernhaus."
"Why not get the updated version?"
He offered a knowing smile and pulled out a second document. "I did. Fresh from the city planner's personal files."
"You hacked into a city official's personal computer?" she queried, eyebrows raised. "I didn't know you could do that."
"You're surprised?" he asked, somewhat ironically. "It didn't take much. But fortunately for us, Seymour and his crew aren't aware of its existence. They don't know that the Opernhaus is being redesigned on the inside. They've completely demolished the lower levels and are rebuilding them in a totally new fashion. I've got the completed model in my hands, but it's kept under lock and key. Only the city planner and contractor would have any hard copies, and since Seymour and his cameras can't see inside, I'm assuming –"
" – hoping –"
He paused, and then winced a little. "True. I'm hoping that they don't know about the remodeling."
"And if they do?"
A sigh escaped him, but he tried not to look too worried. "Then we'll just have to hope that they trained me well enough to evade them."
Surprisingly, she managed a faint smile. "Or assume."
He smiled back, and took her hand in his.