Yuffie awakened in an unfamiliar place. Her first registered thought was, Ow. Pain thundered through her skull, concentrated somewhere in the back of her head and spreading to her neck and shoulders. When she tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness overtook her, and she fell backward again. Nausea came next. She breathed deeply for a few moments, eyes squeezed shut. The light was not very bright, but it lanced through her injured skull all the same.
It took a few moments to regain her wits, but eventually she achieved the perfect speed in sitting up and managed to get a grip on the pain. Through narrowed eyes, she observed her surroundings.
The room was a decent size, maybe twenty-five square feet, done up in pleasant shades of dark reds and muted golds—reminiscent of Wutai's fascination with those colors. One soft lamp occupied the far right corner, and Yuffie tried not to look directly at it. Carpet covered the floor, rugs strewn about strategically to give the place a softer feel. There were two doors, one directly across from her bed and one in the right wall. Curiously, the place had no windows, and she thought, judging by the damp feel of the air, that they might be somewhere underground.
Yuffie wondered when she had gone from being knocked out on the palace floor to living in the lap of luxury. She swung her feet cautiously onto the carpet and paused, puzzled. Her shoes had been changed; in fact, her whole outfit was different. Someone had taken her out of her blood-stiffened clothes and given her soft slippers instead of sandals. She frowned.
What next? The fire materia and any throwing stars secreted on her body seemed to be gone. Whoever had changed her clothes had apparently disarmed her in the process. She thought about stirring up some noise, seeing if anyone would come to check on her. Knock on the door, yell a little, observe the results. Or should she use this valuable time to look for escape routes in the event of an opportunity? Surely there were some ventilation shafts around here, and she was still small and limber enough to wiggle out. And what if I have to pee?
Before she could move any farther than the bed, the door opened.
A woman who appeared to be in her early- to mid-50s slid through the gap in the door, closing it behind her. It shut with a muffled metallic thud. Yuffie saw as the door swung open and closed that there were two deadbolts. She didn't get much of a glimpse of the hall or any idea of how well-guarded she was.
As for the woman, she was definitely of Wuteng descent. If the magnificent pile of dark hair on her head was not enough of a clue, the tilted black eyes gave it away. She smiled in the moment of silence, and Yuffie was struck by her beauty. "How are you feeling?" she asked with a deep, soothing voice.
Yuffie chose not to answer that question as the woman pulled a flashlight from the front of her robes and clicked it on. "We don't have any money, if that's what you're looking for," Yuffie finally said.
"May I check to ensure that knock on the head didn't concuss you, Empress?" she asked. She approached slowly, and Yuffie didn't respond. She allowed the woman to shine the light in both her eyes and followed the quiet instructions as her finger traveled through the air.
"Okay," she said after a moment, sounding pleased, "it seems you're not concussed. Just don't go running any marathons."
Apparently finished with her medical agenda, the woman sat in a rolling chair opposite Yuffie's bed and crossed her legs. She wore a dark, heavy coat over a smart kimono which was cut short, influenced by the Eastern business style. A small pair of glasses with silver rims perched on the end of her nose.
Yuffie grew impatient in the silence. "Where am I? Who are you?" This woman could play doctor all she liked, but Yuffie was still a prisoner taken from her own home.
Her captor said, "My name is Lin. It's an honor to meet you officially, your highness."
"Uh, sure," Yuffie said slowly. This lush room and warm welcome weren't exactly what she had expected. The whole thing reeked, and she knew Tseng would agree with her.
The thought of Tseng abruptly brought the image of him into her head. His glazed eyes and white face threatened to suffocate her, and she clamped down on the thoughts of him before her feelings could show through. Keeping a straight face until she knew more would be important. Not even a blink out of place. Yuffie was an excellent liar, especially when it came to her feelings.
He's not dead, was the lie she told herself now, even as an insidious sliver of fear worked into her heart.
"How do you like your arrangements? Are you comfortable?" Lin was saying.
"The place is…nice," she replied. "No windows, though. It's like being in a cave."
Lin didn't make any move to confirm or deny Yuffie's suspicions about the windows, merely stared back at her with an unperturbed expression. She had the same type of impassive look that had so often stumped Yuffie with Tseng, but her experience with the expression told her Lin was hiding something.
Lin's lack of response put the final nail in the coffin. Yuffie was almost positive they were underground now, and she wondered where they could be with such opulent furnishings. Had Lin and whoever she worked with constructed this place, or had they purchased it in its current state?
"Whoever decorated did a great job," she said, turning her head this way and that, trying to look appreciative.
Lin smiled. "Thank you. I designed and furnished this room."
Clue number one: the room had existed in some previous state before it looked this way. Lin or whoever else had purchased it.
"Where's that door go?" Yuffie nodded toward the second door, opposite the one Lin had come through.
The relative ease of Lin's reply made Yuffie think it was probably the truth. "A room much like this one."
"Anyone in there?"
Instead of acknowledging this question, Lin redirected the conversation. "Are you feeling up for a short chat, your highness?"
"That depends. You planning on letting me go anytime soon?"
Yuffie didn't have high hopes for this outcome, but it was worth assessing every possible option. This woman had to know already that she didn't plan to stay if the opportunity to escape presented itself. Perhaps she would save them all the trouble and let Yuffie go.
Lin laughed with genuine amusement. "I'm fond of you, Empress."
"You… are?" she asked, baffled at this new turn in their discussion.
"Yes, which is why I've been sorry to see you take the throne."
Yuffie frowned. "Maybe it's that knock on the noggin I got, but I'm not following."
Lin smoothed her already perfectly pressed skirt, uncrossed her legs, recrossed them. She folded her hands over her knee. Her nails were trimmed and lacquered with dark red polish. "It's a shame, to me, your lack of choice in the matter of ruling. I've watched your free spirit be shackled by a country in need of such repairs as Wutai."
"I wouldn't say shackled," Yuffie started, but Lin held up a hand.
"Let's call a spade a spade. You didn't want the throne, but you took it out of a sense of duty which I highly respect."
Yuffie blinked, genuinely dumbfounded. So far, this entire experience had bordered on surreal. Of all the strange situations in which she had found herself in her short twenty-five years, this was gunning for top spot.
"Well, I don't think anyone really wants to rule," she replied.
A placid smile was her reply. "Oh, but there's where you're wrong. I do."
Yuffie's eyebrows shot up. "It's not as easy as all that, sister. I know I make it look like a breeze, but—"
"Wouldn't it be more appropriate for someone with a genuine desire to rule to hold position of leader in Wutai?" Lin asked.
"Maybe, but… that's just not how it works."
"You're speaking of your gods," Lin said calmly, and Yuffie's stomach fled somewhere to her toes. Did this woman know about Leviathan? How? Her fears were put to rest as Lin continued. "Come now, you know better than most the danger of so-called gods."
She was talking about Sephiroth, Yuffie realized, not Leviathan. Still, she wondered if Lin had somehow discovered her secret.
"You may not believe in the gods, Lin, but the rest of Wutai does, and the Kisaragis were chosen in their minds even if they weren't in yours." Not quite the truth, but not quite a lie either.
Lin tilted her head. "But why does it have to be that way? Who better than ourselves, two women beaten down by the system, to throw off the chains of religious dogma and take the first step into a bright new future?"
Oh, no. Not even ten minutes into our first talk and I'm seeing some fanatical fervor, Yuffie thought. Aloud, she said, "Oh, yeah? And who'll take the throne if I don't? Someone who'll run Wutai into the ground within a year trying to line their own pockets? Is there some guy out there I don't know about who has a fetish for near-death on a regular basis?"
"I already told you. I would take the throne," Lin said with the utmost confidence.
"No offense, lady, but we haven't even got to the interview and I already know I don't want you to have the job."
"My name is Lin, not lady. And what do you mean my methods? Are you not well provided for?" she asked, sweeping an elegant arm about their surroundings.
Yuffie stared, incredulous. "You kidnapped me and you shot my husband. Not to mention breaking and entering."
Lin seemed amused. "Your husband? You need not pretend the marriage is anything but a political sham, at best."
"And what do you think you know about me or my marriage, exactly?"
"Your grace, we at Wave know more about you than anyone else in the world, even Tifa Lockhart. Even your … fastidious Turk."
They can't know more than Tseng, she thought. He has an entire file.
"It's my birthright. More importantly, it's my duty."
"You speak of duty when Wutai needs passion, a desire for change."
"You must think this job is easy or something," Yuffie said with forced calm. She was starting to understand that no matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you changed and how many people you helped, there would always be someone who thought they could do better.
"No one can deny you have made great changes in just this short period, Empress."
"But?"
"I have studied politics for many long years, have dedicated much time and energy to learning how to heal this country's wounds. I believe it is time to let the people speak."
"The people meaning you, then?" Yuffie asked, tired and annoyed at the same time.
Lin rose from her chair, the soft light glinting off her spectacles. "You have three days to decide," she said. "I advise in this time you think about whether or not you even want to rule."
"And what happens if I just take you down and make my way out right now?"
She looked down her nose. Yuffie was reminded forcefully of Tseng. "You will not find escape that easy."
.
Tseng's eyes cracked open, then immediately shut again. He let his eyes adjust for a few moments, then opened them. His skin felt damp and clammy, his pulse running fast.
"Awake, I see," said a low voice, and he tried to roll, reach for some kind of weapon—his gun or failing that, some sort of blunt object. His chest screamed with pain, and a wave of dizziness smacked him.
"If you don't sit still, you're going to reopen your wound."
Tseng recognized the cadence and tone, and when he mustered the power to look again, his suspicions were confirmed. "Shake," he rasped. "How—"
"I found you lying in your own blood. Thought you were dead 'til I saw you breathing."
Tseng recalled the bullet through his lung and the peculiar sensation of liquid bubbling in his throat; Yuffie's stricken face, her hand reaching and connecting. Some foreign but familiar energy flowing into the wound and taking away the pain. I was dead, he thought.
Inwardly, he cursed himself. She'd saved his life, and he'd failed her. Again.
"And the Mighty Gods?"
Shake looked away, his eyes shadowed. "Whoever they are, they've taken the palace, and they're holding Staniv, Gorki, and Chekhov hostage."
"How did you escape?"
"I'm too fast. They caught us on the path from the Pagoda to the palace, but I slipped away into the forest and made a roundabout trip back here. I don't know how, but I think they had people planted inside the palace—I had to dodge a couple of the maids carrying knives." He grimaced.
Silence reigned for a few moments as a dangerous cocktail of thoughts and feelings percolated in Tseng's head. He was angry, angry at the palace guard for failing to protect their Empress. At the Mighty Gods for getting caught. At himself for not noticing the infiltration sooner.
He was broken from the familiar cycle of self-loathing when Shake spoke again. "How long before you think you can walk?"
"A while," Tseng admitted, feeling the wound throb. He wanted a better look at it, but not with Shake watching. Instead, he contented himself with studying their surroundings. "Where are we?"
The ceiling above them looked strange. In the lack of light, Tseng took a moment to realize it was actually the slats of a wood floor, through which a faint gray light filtered. Judging by the feel of the makeshift bed beneath him, Tseng thought the square shadows piled around the room were probably some sort of storage crates. Not very comfortable.
"Now that you're awake, you can drink this." Shake held up a slightly luminous potion, pulled from an inner pocket of his shirt. Their eyes met with distaste when they came to the mutual conclusion that Tseng would not be able to drink without assistance. Shake moved closer, uncorked the faintly-glowing bottle, and held it to Tseng's lips. His expression was careful neutrality. Tseng slugged it as best he could from his position, noticing as it went down that it was still warm from Shake's body heat.
As he wiped his mouth, Shake said, "We're in one of Yuffie's hidey-holes." From somewhere, he procured a small flashlight and clicked it on, swinging it in an arc. Tseng saw several small black cases and a couple of well-worn shurikens.
"She held on to Twin Viper," Shake said, almost to himself. "Double materia growth."
"I didn't know this place existed."
Shake turned the flashlight off and seated himself on a stack of crates on the other side of the room. "You don't know a lot of things."
Tseng successfully repressed the eyeroll, choosing instead to direct his energies toward healing. The sooner he could get out of the jealous younger man's presence, the better.
"Don't you care what's happened to her?" Shake snapped suddenly.
Truthfully, the dominant thought circling Tseng's mind was the image of Yuffie's frightened, shocked face. He wasn't about to play to Shake's expectations, though, so he said, "When can we leave here?"
"Whoever took her has the palace on lockdown."
Tseng let his eyes slip closed. He wanted badly to sleep.
He heard the crates creak as Shake shifted. "Do you have any idea who they are?"
Even from several feet away and in the mostly-dark, Tseng could feel tension and accusation radiating from Shake. If not for Tseng's gunshot wound, he would probably already be formulating a million ways the Turk was behind the entire coup.
Tseng thought that sometimes his reputation could be a hindrance.
A few moments of silence ticked by, with Shake tapping one foot in aggravation, then, "So what do we do?"
"Unless you plan to escape alone or try to drag me along now as deadweight, we'll have to wait until I'm healed."
"Good thing Yuffie's such a hoarder," Shake said, producing a case which he flipped open, revealing the precious contents. Four vials of hi-potion cast a dull green glow into the shadows. "Supposed to give these to you every four hours." After a moment of assessing Tseng with his gaze, he said, "Let's speed things along."
The next ten hours turned into a haze of potion-induced high for Tseng. Once, he was aware of waking up and registering that, in order to wake up, he must have fallen asleep, but he was so soon asleep again that it was the only observation he was able to make. Shake re-administered the potion twice, pausing each time to peel back Tseng's kimono and probe the wound.
"Looks like it's healing all right. Does this hurt?"
Tseng hissed through his teeth and struggled not to arch his back.
"Yeah, this is a little inflamed."
If his limbs hadn't been like rubber, he would've knocked Shake's hands away, but the effects of so many potions in such a short amount of time had set in a few hours ago; he could do nothing but lie there, practically lifeless, and sweat.
"You're glowing," Shake observed at one point. "Just a little. Must be the discharge."
Tseng couldn't move.
"Looks like," Shake said, picking up one of Tseng's arms and letting it flop down again, "you've got potion poisoning. Paralysis. I hope you don't develop a fever."
Enjoying yourself? Tseng thought, unable to articulate the thought with his numb mouth. He'd had some dental work before in which he had received a shot that disabled one side of his mouth. He remembered it now as his entire body felt something like that. Potion poisoning—caused by using too many hi-potions in a short time-span—could cause fever, temporary paralysis, and vomiting. It wasn't always deadly, but sometimes people choked on their own vomit while paralyzed.
He could've erred on the side of caution and taken a smaller dosage, but he needed to get well quickly if he were to find Yuffie. He was pretty sure the bullet had punctured his lung. Whatever power she had used to heal him had done most of the work in yanking him back from the threshold of death, but he was in no shape to do the work necessary to get out of the palace.
After a grueling seven—by his glowing watch-face—hours slipping in and out of consciousness, he felt Shake's hand on his shoulder, jostling him awake. "Hey. We need to go."
Tseng grunted and fended Shake off. With surprising energy, he levered himself into a sitting position. His wound twinged somewhat, but it was a manageable level of pain. A sticky blanket of sweat, dirt, and blood coated his body, and his hair was a rat's nest that no amount of finger-combing seemed to help.
"You look awesome, don't worry about it," Shake assured him. He was very good at sounding like he wasn't mocking someone.
"Be quiet," Tseng shot back, weary of the younger man.
Shake scowled. "Do you think you can walk now?"
Tseng flexed one arm, performing a few shoulder rolls, then repeated the action on the other side. There was some tightness in his chest muscles, but he would be able to manage with some time and warming up.
Shake was rifling through one of the packing crates he had apparently opened while Tseng convalesced. "Any idea how we can get out unnoticed?"
His stomach growled, and he licked his parched lips. Shake made a triumphant noise, then handed him several bags of vending machine food—potato chips, powdered donuts, crackers. Tseng tore open the package of peanut butter crackers and wolfed down three, only slowing on the fourth.
He pocketed some candy bars for later and ate a package of cookies, grimacing at all the sugar. Between helpings Shake had discovered another box with bottles of water.
Shake turned up his wrist and fiddled with something. The faint green glow of a watch cast strange shadows across his face. "Almost three a.m."
Before he barged into the castle with bare hands blazing, Tseng decided it wouldn't hurt to take a look around at Yuffie's stash. In the first two cases, he and Shake discovered medical supplies. In the third, changes of clothes. Skimpy clothes. He wondered if Yuffie's flair for tiny shorts served any sort of battle advantage. Distraction, perhaps?
"Jackpot," Shake said, removing throwing stars from the fourth case. Their edges were expertly-sharpened, and when Shake ran a thumb over one, it sliced through his flesh as easily as an airship through a cloud. Shake wiped his thumb on his shirt as Tseng opened the next two cases.
Which were almost overflowing with materia, they were so full.
Shake gave a low sigh. "I bet she stole half of this from me."
Tseng ignored him, palming each of the tiny orbs to get a feel for what they were. By the tingle of magic in his fingertips, he could gauge that at least one of them was a mastered fire, one was a mastered blizzard, and one was an All materia.
She had several summons, one of which he was sure was Shiva, and another which felt like a level one Choco-Mog. Most of the materia were level one, to his disappointment, but she had been smart enough to pack a variety.
"She thinks ahead sometimes," Shake said over his shoulder.
He was getting tired of being told about his wife like he didn't know her. If a voice in his head whispered that maybe he didn't know her, he ignored it.
The problem would be finding something with which to equip the materia. Tseng didn't generally carry the stuff, as he had never had a real affinity for magic, much preferring machinery and metal in his hands. He had no bracelets or belts with slots. He resolved to be better prepared for emergency materia usage in future.
Shake plucked a few of the orbs from the case and slotted them into a cuff on his right arm. Tseng eyed one of the shuriken in the far corner and, making the decision, grabbed the one Shake had called Twin Viper. He fitted the mastered Fire, the mastered Shiva, and the All materia.
"This is the best we're gonna get, I think." Shake slipped a few potions into his robes, and Tseng followed suit.
The only item Yuffie didn't have that Tseng needed were handguns. Small arms and tactics were his specialty, where Yuffie preferred distractions, acrobatics, and tricky projectiles. He would have to fight with her elements in order to find her.
"You ready? Let's go," Shake said, as if Tseng needed any prompting.
Shake reached toward the ceiling, groping for something in the dark, then made a pulling motion. A trapdoor swung down on well-oiled hinges, and a rope ladder came with it, hitting the floor with a light swish.
Tseng mounted the ladder before Shake could, doing his best to climb without noise. When he poked his head over the lip of the door, the angular shadows of boxes and the silhouettes of brooms and mops greeted him. They seemed to be in a cleaning supply closet. He looked down and motioned for Shake to follow him up.
Yuffie is surprisingly thorough, Tseng thought, pleased with the location of her hidey-hole. He wasn't sure what they had taught her in ninja school, but he had a feeling this was her own creativity at work.
"How did she install this?" he murmured to Shake, who was closing the trapdoor and sliding a flap of carpet over the top of it. When he was finished, there didn't appear to be anything amiss with the floor upon first, or even second, glance.
"I helped her," Shake replied. "When Yuffie's been picking pockets, bribing a builder is easy."
"Her father didn't notice?"
"He didn't pay much attention in those days." A hint of something like bitterness had crept into Shake's voice, and Tseng decided to let the matter drop. He'd ask Yuffie about it later.
He thought for the thousandth time that he had to find her. Later. There would be a later. There had to be a later.
Tseng held up three fingers and folded them down one by one, counting. At zero, he turned the doorknob and peered into the hallway, ready for attack. He recognized the office wing, and triumph squeezed his stomach, just briefly. He had two extra guns stored in his desk.
"Follow me," he said in the barest whisper, and Shake padded along behind him. Remaining quiet in the royal attire of socks-plus-geta had grated on Tseng's nerves from day one, but now it had become a legitimate hindrance. He would have to shed the shoes sooner rather than later.
The door to his office, around another deserted corridor, was locked. He pulled the key from his breast pocket and slotted it into the lock, opening it with a quiet snick. Shake slipped in behind him and shut the door.
Tseng made quick work of the desk. Underneath, where he would stretch his legs while sitting in the rolling chair, there was a compartment. Unhooking a couple of inconspicuous latches allowed the compartment's small door to swing open, and he maneuvered the case with his two handguns out of it. He had only one clip for each of the guns, as they were for emergencies only. He would have to conserve the ammo.
"Impressive," Shake said, scowling. "Can we get a move on? Being here this long makes me antsy."
He swept one last look around the room, his eyes lingering on the innocuous space on the floor where he had found the scattered pages of the file. He shut the door.
A few feet into the hallway, voices drifted around the corner. "—checked this wing recently?"
"No. Not since the initial search."
"Command said the Empress' dog is still on the loose. We should take a look around."
Tseng lurched backward, forcing Shake to backpedal into the office, then closed the door. He hoped the guards, or whatever these insurgents called themselves, hadn't seen them. He hoped the small click of the door settling back into place wouldn't draw their attention. Turning to meet Shake's eyes, he placed a finger to his lips.
Once the voices had passed them and Tseng judged a decent amount of time had passed, they entered the hallway again. Two minutes passed with no incident. Then, to their great misfortune, they rounded the corner and almost smacked into someone.