I was a bundle of nervous, excited energy. The only thing keeping me still was the fact that for the first time in more than a year, I was wearing the full hazard suit; all thirty or so kilos of it. It sure felt heavier than I remembered. Loitering in the ward was not conducive to retaining muscle.

"Can I turn it on yet?" I called to Reeve, who was running some checks on the computer.

Reno, who had decided to take a nap in the most comfortable-looking chair in the room, flinched to life when I raised my voice.

"Aw, shit," he muttered and yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Don't tell me you guys were gonna let me miss the best part."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Reeve said absently, focusing on his screen, then answered my question. "Just a moment, Doctor. There's one thing missing."

After a few more taps on the keyboard, he straightened up and lifted a cardboard box from one of the workbenches. I blinked in surprise as he picked up the object that had been hidden underneath and brought it to me.

"A suit like this isn't going to be much use without a helmet," he remarked, placing it in my hands.

"Whoa," I said, somewhat lost for words. "Neat design."

Most of the front was taken up by what looked like a smooth, golden mirror, while the rest was of a similar material as my suit. The color scheme was the same red and black, but otherwise the look was a far cry from the bulky, glorified gas mask I had lost back on Earth. This thing looked like a sleek combination of a motorcycle helmet and fencing one. Hell, it looked mean.

"Shit, Reeve, that's pretty badass," Reno approved with a whistle. "Didn't know you had a sense of style, yo."

Reeve huffed, but kept smiling.

"I can't take credit for that, I'm afraid. You can thank Wallace for the look."

"Wallace? That dude from Weapons Dev?" The Turk grinned. "I gotta have a word with him some time. Maybe he can make me one like that."

"Why? It's not like you ever wear one for the bike."

"Yeah, well, if it looked anythin' like that I might."

I had to stifle a snort at the sudden mental image of Reno wearing my new helmet with the ever-present goggles strapped in place on the outside.

"We can give it a full trial in a little bit," Reeve said to me, returning to the computer. "Let's see how the diagnostics and monitoring work first. You're good to go."

As much as I was itching to try it out, inside an unpowered suit I would have trouble lifting my hands up over my head, anyway. Gripping the helmet in one hand, I snapped open the cover protecting the manual controls on my left forearm. After a quick visual check to confirm everything was the same as before, I pressed the power button. Within seconds, I felt the weight lift as the protective suit hummed to life.

"Hazardous environment suit online."

A huge smile crept onto my face. Never before had I been so glad to hear that tinny voice.

"Suit, give me a full systems check."

"Initiating systems check. Suit status monitoring, online. User status monitoring, online. Communication interface, online..."

My attention was mostly focused on my new helmet as the suit launched into a listing procedure I had heard hundreds of times before, so I was only half-listening to its monotone drone as it rattled off system after system.

"...Automated medical system, activated. Systems check complete."

The last one, though, made me pause and look up at Reeve with raised eyebrows.

"I did a little tinkering," he confessed with an apologetic smile. "I thought it could be a useful addition."

"Uh huh. So what exactly does this medical system do?"

Reeve stepped up to me and knocked on the plate on the back.

"There are ampoules of hi-potion, hyper and remedy stored under here. I fitted the suit with an automatic injection system, linked with the user status sensors. If your condition goes critical, the system selects the most appropriate one based on your vital signs."

Hi-potion? Hyper? I had never even heard of these substances. I wasn't thrilled about the idea of needles poking into me without warning, injecting unknown chemicals into my body.

Reeve must have noticed the look on my face.

"We can disable the system for now and do a separate demonstration later, if you prefer."

"Yes, let's do that," I said, relieved that I had a say in the matter. "I want to do a full scan of these chemicals first."

"Fair enough."

I craned my neck to observe as he attached a couple of thin cables from the computer to the maintenance panel on my back. I couldn't see much, but noticed that their positioning was different from what I had expected. Necessary adjustments to make the technologies compatible, I presumed.

"Anything else I should know about?" I asked when he moved beside me to enter some commands on the keyboard.

"I have a few ideas, but nothing that's been implemented," he said, keeping his eyes on the screen. "We can go over them once we're finished with the tests."

"Sure. Just so I know I won't accidentally set off any arm rockets."

"Oh! Oh!" Reno waited until both of our quizzical faces were turned to him. "Boob rockets!"

I gave him a blank stare, then turned my head toward Reeve. The skeptical looks we traded were identical. The Turk watched us for a few moments with a wide grin, but his face fell at our lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh, c'mon! It'd be awesome, yo."

"There will be no 'boob rockets'," I declared, fixing him with a level stare.

Reno huffed and threw his arms over his chest.

"Fine. Be that way, ya borin' smarty-pants geeks."

The grumbling redhead was studiously ignored by the rest of us while Reeve finished preparing for the performance testing, hooking me up with more wires in the process. At the rate he was going, I would end up looking like a robotic porcupine.

"Okay, we're ready to begin," he said after a few minutes.

As soon as I heard the words, a thought popped into my head.

"Hang on. There's something I want to do first."

Reeve gave me a curious look, but straightened up to wait. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed movement; Reno shifted, too, with a subtle roll of his shoulders as he let his hands fall to his side. Always alert and prepared for the worst, it seemed, despite outward appearances. Well, it was his job, after all.

"Suit, check user files."

"Atmospheric readings, 72 files. Chemical analysis, 124 files. Electromagnetic field data, 113 files. Music, 4021 files."

A small jolt of excitement brought a smile to my face. Everything was still there.

"Excellent. Suit, play 'some jazzy tunes'."

Scattered piano chords floated out of the suit's speakers, while a rhythmic beat slowly built up until the two joined and fused in playful harmony. I closed my eyes and my smile grew into a full-on grin, while my hips began to sway on their own accord. When the song kicked off properly, I took a few steps in place, moving my feet to the rhythm.

"The legs feel a little out of synch," I called to Reeve. "Too much boost on the left. Check the main servo."

For the first time since I had met him, the executive seemed dumbfounded. His mouth fell slightly open, but after a few seconds of gawking, he snapped back to the present.

"Right," he said, returning his attention to the data flooding the screen. "I see it. Correcting now."

"That's better." I tried a more ambitious move. "Yeah, that's good. Power-assisted leg movement is synchronized."

As modest as my suit-restricted dancing was, it was probably more than a little unusual to go for it in front of a couple of practical strangers. After months of mind-numbing monotone in hospital green, though, I didn't care. I was bloody well going to enjoy myself now that I had the chance. Fuck propriety.

Reno sniggered.

"This is how ya test stuff back where you're from?"

"Personal preference, Mr. Turk." I twirled around and almost lost my balance. "Whoops! Left arm response is lagging."

Now that he had recovered from the surprise, Reeve was taking things in his stride.

"Recalibrating... Done. Try again."

I spun around again, this time in the other direction to detangle myself from the wires. Amazingly, none of them had come loose. That sort of thing irritated James to no end.

The grin faltered and I slowed down as memories returned to me. My former fiancé had protested my request for a music player in the suit at first, claiming it was a waste of resources. He had never appreciated my propensity to liven up his testing with impromptu dance moves either, as he considered it unprofessional and unfit for serious scientific study.

Narrowing my eyes, I resumed my dancing with renewed enthusiasm. Fuck James, too. My suit, my rules.

"Feeling good. Both arm reaction speeds nominal."

"Lookin' good too, Fitz," Reno said with a chuckle, his fingers tapping his thigh in time with the beat. "I take it back. Maybe you ain't as borin' as I thought."

"Oh, I'm full of surprises."

He responded to my grin with a smirk.

"I bet you are."

Realizing my excitement was bringing me awfully close to flirting with the man, I soon toned it down before my mood was misinterpreted. I nonetheless reserved the right to inject a few dance moves here and there, whenever a particularly good song appeared on the playlist.

The programming was still intact, Reeve told me; the problem was, it was no longer a proper fit for the hazard suit itself. The suit had been taken apart in unkind ways, then pieced together again by someone who wasn't familiar with the tech, so what the system expected to find didn't quite match up to reality. This meant that while the basic functionality was still there, much of it didn't feel right. As the hours passed, it became clear that a lot of tweaking and recalibrating would be required to restore my poor abused suit to its original condition.

How fortunate, then, that it was in eager and meticulous hands. Reeve's dedication to his work, combined with a careful attention to detail, bordered on obsessive.

"For someone who claims not to know the 'how', you seem to know a great deal," he commented once we had finished for the day and I was placing the undersuit on the table.

"I've done this sort of thing before. I helped James test the original prototype."

"Whoa, hang on," Reno piped up. "James the Jerkface made your suit?"

He caught me completely off guard. I snorted, then burst out laughing.

"Yes," I choked out between fits of laughter, "it was James the–" Another giggle erupted and it took me several seconds to finish the sentence. "The... The Jerkface. Oh god, that's not even funny."

The redhead looked even more pleased with himself than usual.

"You're sure laughin' a lot at somethin' that ain't funny."

I wiped tears out of the corners of my eyes, still trying to control the hysterical urge to laugh.

"Anyway," I said, clearing my throat, "there are some issues that come up regularly in testing, so in the more common cases I've learned to connect the problem with the cause. I know what it feels like when a servo is out of synch, but I don't know that actually means. I doubt I could even point out the right part."

"Well, I couldn't have wished for better assistance on this project," Reeve said. "I believe we will make a fine team."

It had been an eventful day, but I felt energized and eager to continue. I offered him a warm smile.

"I'm sure you're right, Mr. Tuesti."

I couldn't say we settled into a routine after that – the length of the sessions could vary from a couple of hours to a whole afternoon – but we met up with regular irregularity at Reeve's workshop over the following week. I tested the suit's performance after every tweak and new addition, and gave my two cents on usability issues, options for implementation of Mako shielding and preliminary designs for a protective system for reactor staff.

I also read reports and articles on the effects of Mako, provided by Reeve on my request. The information was superficial, dealing with observed effects on whole organisms after accidents rather than research on a cellular or molecular level, but even that was enough to pique my interest. The combined symptoms didn't fit any chemical toxin, organism or radiation that I knew of. Without access to a lab or experimental data, though, I couldn't delve into a detailed analysis.

While not my proper line of work, I found myself enjoying the time spent in the workshop. The executive was an easy man to work with.

"Please, call me Reeve," he suggested after a couple of days.

"All right, Reeve, but only if you call me Tess." After a moment's hesitation, I turned toward the bored-looking redhead swiveling in a chair. "Feel free to do so too, Reno."

"Tess, eh?" He pursed his lips and looked me over as he considered this, then shrugged. "Nah. Fitz suits ya better."

I arched an eyebrow. The prefix meaning "son of" – once especially popular among the illegitimate offspring of royalty – suited me?

Oh, what the hell. Why not. It wasn't like Reno would have known the right historical context from Earth and, really, it was better than some other things he was fond of calling me. Speaking of...

"Fitz? Not 'doll' or 'sweetie'?"

"C'mon, when have I last called ya either of those?"

A faint frown creased my brow when couldn't find any fresh examples to throw back at him. The "dolls" and "sweeties" had gradually been replaced by "Fitz" or "Doc".

"You still call me 'babe', though."

"Yeah, well, that suits ya too," he drawled with an unrepentant grin. "I mean, you are one, y'know."

I narrowed my eyes and sent him a dirty look. Reno rolled his with a theatrical sigh.

"Sheesh. You sure suck at takin' a compliment."

"Maybe you suck at giving them," I shot back. "Sweet cheeks."

He had already opened his mouth to reply, but the last words I threw at him rendered the man speechless. For a second his expression even mirrored the one I had sported a minute ago. As fleeting as it no doubt would be, it was a rather satisfying sight.

Then Reno broke into a devilish grin.

"Damn, you got a point." He twisted sideways in the seat and slapped his rear. "These really are some sweet cheeks, yo."

I planted my face in my palm.

"Give the kid a break, Tess," Reeve said, the dry tone tinged with humor. "He's just trying to say that you're not one to be toyed with, and that despite your regrettable lack of a sweet personality, he considers you an attractive example of the female gender."

For the second time in less than a minute, the redhead was lost for words. Truly, it was a day of miracles.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Reeve," Reno finally groaned, "quit sayin' shit like that, man! You sound like a goddamn shrink." He threw his arms across his chest and glared at the older man. "And now you made it all weird."

As much as I enjoyed the interactions between the two, the Turk was not a regular at these meetings. He was often busy with other work and even got called away a couple of times. On those occasions, Reeve would send a regular Shinra security guard to escort me. More than one, in fact; each taking me part of the way until I was handed over to an orderly in the visitors' waiting area in the hospital wing, who brought me to the right ward. An attempt to obscure the trail to an executive's private workshop, I guessed. I had no complaints. Each convoluted detour was an opportunity to learn more about the building's layout.

The orderly never asked questions, or expressed any surprise or suspicion about his task. It made me wonder if the Turks and higher-ups of Shinra often used the psych ward for their own purposes. It would explain why I had been locked up for so long without proper therapy, with no raised eyebrows from any of the staff, and why Amanda the incurable gossip never brought up my unusual absences.

An answer to that question arrived in unexpected form one morning, when a knock on the door interrupted me only minutes after I had started on a chapter. I frowned. It was too early for one of Reno's visits. He never bothered to knock, anyway. As I set the book down and sat up, the door opened to reveal Amanda in the company of another blonde woman.

"You have a visitor, Teresa."

The nurse had just enough time to finish her timid announcement before the other woman pushed past and strode into the room on satin heels in red; a perfect match to her long dress. A very low-cut gown, I couldn't help but notice as I rose to my feet, which revealed much of the voluptuous woman's assets.

I recognized the attire, rather than the face. I had seen her the other day in the elevator as I was escorted back to my room by a security guard. It had been impossible to ignore the examining stare she had given me, but adhering to Reno's instructions, I had kept quiet and done my best to remain uninteresting. Apparently, I had been unsuccessful.

The blonde came to a halt before me, standing half a head taller than me in her high heels.

"Leave us," she commanded without looking back.

With an apologetic look in my direction, Amanda closed the door, leaving me alone with this woman who stared at me like a snake stalking a particularly delicious mouse.

The blonde crossed her arms and released me from her gaze to give my room a cursory glance, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"So, this is where they chain you up at night. The loony bin. A convenient place to hide Shinra's inconvenient problems." Her eyes locked onto me again, while a sort of calculated amusement settled on her features. "It seems I've underestimated Reeve Tuesti. I didn't think he had the balls to take advantage of a desperate woman in dire straits."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to keep the apprehension off of my face.

"Your job as Tuesti's obliging, hardworking assistant, of course. You really should stand up for yourself more. You'll never get anywhere if you let men treat you like this."

The woman knew far too much. My discomfort left me with zero patience for games and insinuation.

"Either get to the point or get out of my room."

Her blue eyes grew frosty, giving me the first indication of the darkness disguised by the beautiful face and sultry appearance.

"You're in no position to make demands," she warned, then reverted to the supercilious manner and looked me over with exaggerated appraisal. "You know, you don't look like much without your suit."

"Excuse me?"

I was barely able to hear my own voice over the warning bells ringing in my ears.

"Don't play dumb with me." She paused, then continued in a tone that matched the look she sent me down her nose. "Therèse FitzEvan of Cobalt Industries. From... Earth, was it?"

My heart skipped a beat. It took me a while to find my voice again.

"Who are you?"

"Don't know much, do you? I'm the Head of Weapons Development. You may call me Scarlet."

I felt my face go pale. The woman who had demanded my suit, at any cost. The one who had put me through hell to get what she wanted, only to toss it aside without a second thought as soon as she realized it wasn't what she had expected.

"We haven't been introduced, but I've seen plenty of you," the woman continued, affirming my silent thoughts. "I supervised your first two interrogations."

Scarlet showed no signs of remorse or aversion. If anything, she seemed amused by the memory. Proud of it.

"Back then your so-called information seemed as useless as your suit, but now that Tuesti has taken an interest in you, I can't help but wonder... Is there more to you than meets the eye? Perhaps I should dig more answers out of you, hm?"

Reno's face was rarely without some kind of smirk, sneer or grin, but he had never smiled at me like this. That twisted curl of her lips told me that if this woman were to drag me to the interrogation room, I wouldn't come out in one piece.

It was getting hard to breathe.

"What do you want?" I snapped.

"Oh, there's plenty of time for that later. For now, I just wanted to take a closer look at you. It's not every day one gets to meet a visitor from another world face to face."

"You're mistaken. I'm not from another world."

"Oh, really? And where are you from, then?"

The rising panic had made me blurt out the lie without thinking it through. I fumbled for a Gaian location that might appear appropriate, but Scarlet laughed; a high-pitched, grating noise that was more akin to cackling than laughter.

"Thought so."

After one last once-over, she scoffed and sashayed over to the door. With a manicured hand wrapped around the handle, she paused to look back with that smile that promised pain and misery.

"I'm afraid I have to cut this visit short, but don't worry. I'll make sure we have more fun next time."

A/N:

Today's boob rockets were brought to you courtesy of Striker Eureka from Pacific Rim. Oh, how I love that movie in all its nuclear-analog EMP-resistant glory.

Thanks for the reviews!

SilverLayers: I'm glad you think so! While the tech in this story is very much sci-fi, I really hope it will be understandable sci-fi. ;)