A/N:

VendettaSmiles: Thanks for the encouraging review(s)! Reno is fun to both write and figure out, since he's portrayed quite differently in FF7 compared with the movie. There's plenty of puzzle pieces to try to fit together. ;)

Reno didn't return the next day, nor the one after that. Once or twice, I caught myself wondering where he was. Maybe, just maybe, even missing his company. I knew little of psychology – when it came to the inner workings of a human being, my expertise was limited to the cellular level – but two words came to me. Stockholm syndrome. I groaned.

I felt just the smallest twinge of relief when I finally spotted the flaming mane out of the corner of my eye as I sat in my usual spot on the lounge couch. These days I was aware enough to notice just how dull my existence had become without his visits.

There was also the fact that my unformulated plan – well, more like a vague hope – of using the man to get out of the ward required his presence. On that point, though, Reno was once again way ahead of me.

"Here," he said, shoving a backpack into my arms. "There's clothes and stuff in there. Make yourself look good."

I was too mystified to come up with a biting retort to the last part.

"What's going on?" I asked, eyeing the bag with overt suspicion.

"I'm takin' ya out for lunch, yo."

The Turk said it as if it was a normal, everyday occurrence. I stared at him, wondering if there existed a version of the Freudian slip that made one mishear words instead of misspeaking them.

"What?"

"Lunch! Y'know, food. Real food. Well, just café food really, but better than the crap they serve here, that's for sure. They got decent enough coffee too, yo."

That was far too many sentences for an auditory misunderstanding.

"You're taking me out for lunch," I repeated, stunned.

Reno groaned, took the few steps necessary to reach the hallway bathroom, then yanked the door open and waved me in.

"I ain't takin' ya anywhere if you're just gonna sit there like a goddamn idiot. C'mon, in ya go."

I looked at the man. I glanced down at the bag in my lap. I looked up again, noting an exasperated expression forming on the redhead's face, and thought it best to do as he said. Perhaps I'd be able to think in the privacy of the bathroom, shielded from exuberant and perpetually baffling Turks.

Once I had closed the door behind me, I took a moment to review the conversation in my head. Lunch. Café. Clothes. Overwhelmed by excited curiosity, I set the bag down on the toilet seat to examine its contents.

He hadn't been joking. The bag contained a selection of cosmetics and other bits and bobs required to make oneself presentable. I took the items out one by one and stacked them on the sink. None of the makeup brands were familiar, although each one of the tiny containers had their equivalents back home on Earth.

I even found a disposable razor. I guess the Turk figured it wouldn't make much of a weapon in my hands. As much as it irked me to admit it, he was right about that.

The change of clothes was placed at the bottom of the backpack. My eyebrows shot up upon the discovery of rather sensual lingerie, trimmed with lace.

"Did you pick this outfit?" I asked through the door.

"Nah, got Laney to do it," came the muffled reply.

"Laney?"

"Yeah, guess you haven't met. She's new, so she's eager to please and doesn't ask too many questions when a senior Turk wants somethin' done."

I supposed that made the situation a bit less awkward.

Now that I had adjusted to this unexpected turn of events, I couldn't tear the awful hospital pajamas off my body quickly enough. My first action was to dab perfume onto my wrists and neck. I was beyond sick of the subtly repulsive, sterile smell of hospital soap. As a floral scent saturated my nostrils, I sighed with contentment and ran my fingers over the bristles of a hair brush, then scrunched up the pantyhose in my hand. To think that one could derive such happiness from these mundane sensations.

"Laney didn't find it odd to go clothes shopping for a senior Turk?" I asked as I looked over the bag's contents one more time, debating what to do next.

"Nope! It ain't that weird, tho'. Every now and then we need clothes for undercover and shit like that."

"Hm. Do you often dress up as a woman for undercover work, then?" I deadpanned, holding up the pinstripe pencil skirt for inspection.

"Shut up, Fitz," he shot back, though I could hear the amusement in his tone. "Sometimes we need disguises for VIPs, too."

"I'm a VIP now?" I muttered to myself. "How flattering."

I put the razor to good use, then slipped into the clothing, taking the time to enjoy every part of the process. I would never take the pleasure of having proper clothes for granted again.

Once dressed, I adjusted the skirt and smoothed out the white shirt, taking a moment to inspect the outfit in the mirror. The look was rather... administrative. It was completely unlike my style, but I wouldn't have called it unflattering. The fitted garments were made from quality materials and accentuated my figure. Then again, most things compared favorably to the baggy patient clothes I'd been forced to wear for far too long.

"How did you know my size, anyway?" I asked, craning my neck to look at myself sideways as I ran a hand over my stomach.

"I just took a closer look at that black thing you wore under your armor. It's a pretty tight fit, as I remember it."

"Huh. Clever."

So, the undersuit still existed. My insides twisted as I recalled how it had been taken from me, but I slapped down the memories before they could overwhelm me. Now was not the time; not when I was so close to leaving the ward.

While I applied what I hoped would be an acceptable minimum of makeup, I wondered about the rest of my old hazard suit. Was it still in one piece, or had they taken it apart for study? I wished I could have worn it instead. I could have done with the comfort of its protection, no matter how unsuitable an armored suit was for the occasion.

My hair received a critical examination, followed by a frown of disapproval. After months without a haircut, it had reached the accursed limbo between long and short, which in my case also meant unruly waves that pointed this way and that. "My little hobbit", Dad would call me as a kid, often as he ruffled my hair deeper into chaos. I blew a few dark curls out of my eyes with a deep sigh. Right now, I definitely looked the part of Dad's little hobbit.

There was no way to style that mess into anything elegant. I ran the brush through it a few times, then scooped it up into a tiny ponytail and twisted it into an even tinier bun. Most of the shorter strands were brought under control with bobby pins this "Laney" had been thoughtful enough to provide. It would have to do.

I slipped into the black pumps, then opened the door and tottered out. It had been months since I last wore shoes. I couldn't even remember when I had last worn heels like these.

Reno, who was leaning with one shoulder against the wall, tilted his head to the side and appraised me with half-lidded eyes.

"Yeah, that oughta work," he approved, then looked up at my expression and smiled. "Don't like it?"

"I look like a secretary," I complained.

"That's the idea, babe. HQ is full of foxy secretaries. No one's gonna think twice if they see one of 'em tailin' ol' Reno again."

I responded to his wink with a quirked eyebrow and an unimpressed look. There was likely some measure of truth behind the cockiness, though, especially if one was to believe Amanda's gossip. That pretty face together with a generous helping of bad boy charm was bound to be a devastating combo. He had even managed to send a slight blush to my cheeks with that wink and impish smile.

"'Kay, some ground rules," Reno began while we walked toward the exit. "Follow my lead and do as I say. Leave the talkin' to me. If anyone asks ya directly, you're a secretary lucky enough to score a date with the sexiest of the Turks."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Oh, for the love of..."

"Hey, gotta have somethin' simple and easy to believe as a cover story," he said with a grin. "Right, so, don't say nothin' 'bout who you are and for fuck's sake, don't give 'em your real name."

"I feel like I'm in a spy movie," I muttered, glancing over my shoulder.

"Well, this ain't exactly an official operation. If anyone out there realizes who you are, it's my ass on the line, so be good, 'kay?"

That didn't reassure me. What was I getting myself into?

"Got steak in this café of yours? This lunch had better be worth the effort."

Reno chuckled. "'Fraid the best I can do today is meatballs."

The surprise almost had me freeze to the spot midstep. I turned my head to face him fully, staring at the man with wide eyes.

"Holy shit, you do have meat?"

The steak comment had just been a joke. Back home, meat production was close to nonexistent these days, resulting in exorbitant prices on the rare occasions it was available. The last time I had eaten a steak must have been more than three years ago by now, when James and I had decided to celebrate our first anniversary in style at one of the better restaurants in town.

The redhead gave me an odd look.

"Uh, sure we do. What, they don't feed ya meat in the ward?"

My laugh was somewhere between astonished and elated.

"I don't have a clue what they serve us most of the time. Nothing recognizable as meat, that's for sure."

Reno shook his head, but the dubious look in his eyes was joined by a crooked smile.

"Sheesh. Well, guess you're in for a treat then, Doc."

We reached the main doors to the patient block. This was as far as I had been able to go since I first woke up here. Apprehension bloomed in my chest as the Turk pulled a keycard through the lock and typed in a code. Only when the doors slid open with a quiet hiss did I realize I had been holding my breath.

"Oh, and just for the record," he added as I took my first tentative steps into the outside world, "the security in HQ is top notch and I'm hella fast even with one leg on the mend. No point tryin' to run."

"In these shoes? Not bloody likely," I mumbled, scanning the names by the doors along the hallway. Offices and other facilities for the staff, by the looks of it.

He studied me for a moment, then nodded and flashed a toothy grin.

"Chin up, Fitz! This'll be fun, yo."

The sparkle in his eyes was a little too devious for my comfort, but I had to admit an almost childlike excitement was eager to bubble to the surface. I would finally see more than the boring walls of the hospital floor. I would see new places, new people. I would eat proper food.

The corridor had been empty, but elevator that arrived brought me face to face with several passengers. I must have made a convincing impression of a deer caught in the headlights, but when the Turk strolled inside, I scurried after him and huddled into a corner. Reno positioned himself between me and the three others in the small space, obscuring me from their view. It was a needless precaution, since the group had barely glanced at us as we entered, but I was glad for the chance to let my pulse slow down in relative seclusion.

"Relax," the Turk admonished once the others stepped out the elevator a few floors later. "It's just lunch. Be yourself. Act natural."

"Natural? I'm not sure I know what that is anymore."

"Sure ya do. Chat. Smile. Laugh." He glanced at me and waggled his eyebrows. "Flirt."

I scoffed and shook my head, but the man had a point. I rolled my shoulders to release the tension and lifted my head higher, steeling myself for what was to come. I was bound to face more than a three strangers once we reached our destination.

When the elevator stopped for the second time, the doors slid open to reveal the cafeteria. Despite my best intentions, I slowed to a halt and stared as soon as we had entered the room.

It wasn't the vast open space that caught my eye, nor the few dozen people present for an early lunch. It wasn't even the array of edibles arranged along the serving counter of the cafeteria. No, what captivated me was the enormous tree sprouting in the middle of the room, tall enough to brush the ceiling high above us.

There were no windows; no sources of natural light that I could see. The container was covered by entwined roots, to the point of no evidence of any soil beneath them, yet despite the artificial conditions, the tree was thriving. Its branches created a thick canopy of bright green leaves, offering the closest circle of tables a soothing shade from the fluorescent lights.

How was this possible? How had these people managed to cultivate a flourishing tree in such unfavorable conditions, when my planet struggled to grow anything at all?

"C'mon, keep movin'. You can gawk at the tree later, yo."

The humor in Reno's voice was tinted by a note of satisfaction. Reluctantly, I tore my eyes from the sight and followed the redhead toward the lunch café.

"What kind of tree is it?" I asked, stealing furtive glances upward as we joined the short queue.

"I dunno," he answered with a shrug. "Who cares? It's just a tree."

"I'm a biologist," I sighed. "Of course I care."

"Well, can't help ya there," he said breezily, picking up a tray. "Right, time to load up. Grab whatever ya want."

"You might come to regret that suggestion," I noted, my attention now focused on the salad bar.

"That so? Feelin' peckish, are we?"

"Try greedy like a little, fluffy-tailed squirrel in winter. I can't remember when I last saw this many kinds of fresh fruit. In fact, I don't think I ever have."

"Knock yourself out, babe," he chuckled. "You ain't gonna clean me out in a freakin' lunch café, yo."

That was all the encouragement I needed. One of each kind of fruit – some more or less familiar, while others were utterly foreign – found their way onto my tray, along with a spoonful from every container in the salad bar. To complete the sampler of the cafeteria's spread, I crowned it all with an ample serving of meatballs. The scent alone made me weak at the knees.

The odd look from the cashier, before she was distracted by Reno's charming smile and chitchat, didn't faze me in the slightest. I refused to let anyone or anything lessen the enjoyment of my first decent meal in years.

"Damn," he sniggered once we'd sat down at a free table by the tree, eyeing my tray. "It ain't often I meet someone with a bigger appetite than mine, yo."

The lunch I had cobbled together was indeed more impressive in size than his, though not as much as one might have expected with a slim guy like Reno.

"I warned you, didn't I? Give me an opportunity like this and I will definitely take it." I scanned the food on my plate with a wolfish grin. "You never see something like this back home."

"I get it," he said with half a smile. "Used to do the same for years. Slum kid thing, y'know."

I wouldn't have called my life on Earth bereft, but I suppose there was a certain similarity, considering the cost of food and the ever diminishing variety. It was an interesting comparison, but one that would have to wait for another time. Right now I had meatballs to devour.

I sliced one of them in two and popped one half in my mouth, then closed my eyes and let the flavors on my tongue overwhelm me. I chewed slowly, savoring every aspect of the sensations, from the grainy texture to the spicy seasoning. The next ten minutes or so were spent going through every single item on my plate in a similar way, exploring every savory, sweet, acidic, sharp and subtle taste. Some of the food, like the meatballs, were just as I would have expected of their Earth equivalent. Others surprised me with familiar flavors in new packaging, such as the purple apple.

The redhead allowed me to conduct my culinary research in peace, content to just observe with that hint of a smile that rarely left his face. It struck me more as a mask than an expression. I could never tell what thoughts it might be hiding. Once my most compelling cravings were sated, I decided to inquire.

"So, to what do I owe the honor of all..." I glanced around, gesturing to my tray and the room in general. "All this?"

"No reason," he said, shrugging. "I didn't wanna eat alone and you needed a decent meal for once. That's it."

"Oh, really? All that trouble, just to get a lunch date? Don't tell me you're that desperate."

Attempting to play the role that had been bestowed upon me, my tone was one of light teasing. Reno returned in kind.

"You're worth it, baby," he drawled.

I shook my head, though a small smile played on my lips. "Come on, Reno."

He leaned back in his chair and threw up his hands in a mild huff.

"What, is it that hard to believe I might wanna do somethin' nice for someone? I saw a chance and I took it. Much like you in the queue a few minutes ago. What's wrong with that?"

I thought it best to withhold honest answers his questions.

"A chance?" I asked instead. "What do you mean?"

Reno propped one elbow over the back of the chair and rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful.

"Well, between us gettin' a new Prez and Hojo ditchin' the company, there's plenty of excitement for people to talk 'bout. Don't have to worry 'bout the gossips noticin' my date while snoopin' around for new material, yo."

The second piece of news caught my attention, but thinking about that horrible man was not conducive to an enjoyable meal. Yet another nugget of information to be filed away for later analysis.

"Afraid of being seen with me? Are you saying I don't live up to your usual standards?"

It was just something I blurted out in my rush to steer the topic away from the ghastly scientist. I felt like an idiot as soon as the quip left my lips. It was obvious that I didn't measure up to the other women I had seen so far, with their perfect hair and makeup. Why on earth would I draw attention to that fact?

The redhead smirked.

"More like the opposite, sweetheart, but the idea is to avoid attention, remember?"

Well, how about that. Guess the man was capable of mercy after all.

"I'll grab us some coffee," he declared, pushing the chair back to give his newly healed leg a quick stretch before rising to his feet. "You sit tight, 'kay?"

I hummed in agreement, unsated by the meager results of my enquiry but unable to see a way to get straight answers. Not for a second did I believe that Reno was doing all this just out of the kindness of his heart. In fact, I wasn't even sure he had one. What could I do, though? The man was not inclined to divulge his motivations and I wasn't wily enough to trick them out of him.

As I waited, my gaze wandered up along the trunk of the tree and my mind shifted to idle efforts to classify the species. It reminded me of the artfully shaped bonsai pines I had seen in pictures, though this one was on a whole different scale. Had I been given the opportunity to put some of its cells under a microscope I could have said more, but this was pretty much the full extent of my visual analysis on a macroscopic level.

Despite what I had told Reno earlier, botany was not one of my usual fields of interest. Earth was already full of biologists trying to solve the mystery of our failing agriculture. The ones studying the effects of recent anomalies in radiation levels and electromagnetic fields, both natural and artificial, were few and far between. How typical, then, that it was one of the latter who had ended up on a world with horticultural wonders.

I sighed and turned my attention to the people. No one had occupied any of the closest tables. I wondered if that was a coincidence or if the rumors surrounding the Turks kept other employees at bay. In any case, I was grateful. Reno had brought us to lunch early, but the noise level was already on the verge of being too intense for me after the tranquility of the ward. It would take a while to get used to seeing so many faces around me again.

As I scanned my surroundings, I realized that disregarding the giant bonsai and the meat on the menu, it wasn't difficult to imagine myself back on Earth. People looked the same; their gestures and mannerisms were much the same, too. The differences in fashion were no greater than one might expect on a trip to a foreign country. They likely found me no different, either, considering nobody was paying me any attention. What a strange thought. I wondered if spies among the enemy felt as alienated as I did.

Reno returned, holding a cup in each hand.

"I have a hard time picturing you going undercover," I remarked as I accepted one of them, still mulling over my previous line of thought.

He draped himself over his chair, his face split in a wide grin.

"And why d'ya say that?"

"Because you're so... You know. Memorable. You stick out like a sore thumb."

"Memorable, huh?" He took a swig of his coffee, then set it down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Well, darlin', I'll let ya in on a secret. That's the point, yo."

He had lost me already. The Turk was far more well-versed in the intricacies of the human mind than I was, especially when it came to practical applications.

He was watching me, waiting for something. Possibly the very question I posed next.

"What do you mean?"

"See, when I'm out there on the streets, I want the bad guys to go 'oh shit, there's that Reno dude, he's real bad news' as soon as they lay eyes on me. Saves me trouble in the long run. 'Sides, chicks love the hair."

He winked and I rolled my eyes, more out of habit than anything. Reno didn't seem to mind, though.

"Okay, so what happens when you go undercover?"

"Oh, baby, that's when the magic happens," he drawled with devilish glee. "I do some of my best work under the covers."

"Oh, for god's sake," I groaned, dropping my face into my palm. I had walked straight into that one.

He sniggered, pushing himself off the table to slouch back in the chair, coffee in hand.

"C'mon, you think I'm gonna spill all my secrets?"

"I'm just curious. Doesn't all this," I waved in his general direction, "make disguises harder?"

"It helps, actually. When people look at me, they just see the hair, the goggles, the suit and the attitude. If I wanna be someone else, all it takes is some hair dye, a fuckton of gel and a change of clothes."

I raised my eyebrows, eyeing the unruly mop trying to escape the hold of his goggles.

"I would've thought you already use a fuckton of gel."

"Less than ya might think, yo. My hair's a natural match for my personality."

To prove it, he reached up and ruffled the back of his head, making the soft spikes stand up even more.

"Mm, I see. Crazed and unmanageable."

"I was thinkin' more like 'totally awesome', but eh, close enough," he said, grinning. "Then I just gotta remember to stand stiff as a board and talk like some fancy-pants bigwig. Ta-da, instant business twerp. Works like a charm."

"You, talking like a fancy-pants bigwig," I repeated with no small amount of doubt, recalling the refined manner of speech used by the younger Shinra in one of the TV interviews.

"You betcha. The standing up straight part sucks, tho'. Good thing it don't come up that much."

I shook my head as I swallowed a sip of my coffee, unsure of what amused me more: the idea of Reno in a properly worn suit, pretending to be a straight-laced office slave, or him straining to form sentences without abusing the language.

Once the coffee was gone, our lunch was at an end. I obediently returned to the hospital ward, memorizing floor numbers and routes on the way – rash actions would get me nowhere. The clothes I relinquished with much more reluctance, comforted only by the Turk's breezy promise that we'd do this again some time. I hoped he would keep his word.

Later that evening, sleep eluded me. After a life spent dodging one small natural disaster after another, with the final big one already looming on the horizon, I had learned to enjoy the little things whenever I could. That was what I had done today, but now that my thoughts were all the company I had, I became more and more uncomfortable with my strange circumstances. The excursion may have matched the goal of step two in my plan, but otherwise it had nothing to do with my agenda. Reno had orchestrated it all.

I thought of the effort he had gone through to smuggle me out for something as insignificant as a lunch and wondered what he was up to. It was one thing to be hounded by a Turk when few other amusements were available to the man. It was quite another to not only remain within Reno's attention span after he was free to go where he pleased, but to be treated with kindness, even some level of respect.

Well, more like a semblance of decency. The choice I had been offered today was not so different from the one he had given me in the interrogation room. Give us the suit, or we take it off you. Have lunch with me, or eat gruel alone in the ward. Cosmetic decisions, both of them. I would have lost the suit either way. Lunch or no, I was still a captive at the end of the day.

Play along; that was the idea, but I couldn't help but wonder if it would just sink me deep into worse kinds of trouble. The man had to be aware of the power he held over me. When would he choose to abuse it?

I eventually drifted off into restless sleep, only to start awake in a cold sweat, trembling; still seeing eyes with the color and warmth of glaciers bore into my soul as sharp steel slashed my flesh.