During the wee hours of the night, I jolted back into awareness, ensnared in damp sheets. I lay still with rigid limbs, too terrified to move, until at long last the senseless fear from yet another vicious dream began to fade. It had been a week since a night like this – something of a record, really – but it wasn't difficult to guess why the nightmares had returned.

I stared up into the darkness, afraid of losing myself in the shadows of my unconscious mind again, and wondered if the morning would find me dead or in one of Shinra's holding cells. Reno followed his superiors' orders, regardless of his personal feelings. He had said so himself. The life of one lone captive was nothing compared to all the ones he had already taken.

I could still see the darkness of Sector 7 staring back at me, the torn wires and struts sticking out like severed tendons and broken bones in a gaping wound; the emptiness such a harsh contrast to the brimming life of the brightly lit sectors around it. I recalled the interviews with distraught victims on the news, yet instead of sympathizing in dismayed outrage, I found myself wondering how many of them had been fake. What could I believe anymore? Who could I trust? The company controlled everything.

Once the hustle and bustle of breakfast had died down to the usual tranquility of the ward, I remained seated by the small table in the lounge with disinterested eyes aimed at the TV screen. I was loath to return to the solitude of my room with nothing but distressed thoughts as company. Time lost meaning as I lost myself somewhere between the moving pictures.

"Well, well. Just the woman I was looking for."

The sultry voice shot a chill down my spine, startling me back to the present. The blonde executive stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. The dress was a different one, but just as red and revealing as the one I had seen on her before.

"What do you want?" I asked, rising to my feet as Scarlet entered the room.

"Thought we could have a talk, that's all. A little heart-to-heart."

The sneer on her painted lips held a different promise. As she advanced, I backed away at a matching pace, keeping the table between us.

"So, tell me," she continued with false geniality, "what are you and Tuesti up to?"

I glanced at the door. My initial retreat had taken me farther from it, but if I could get her to follow me around the table, I would have a shot at making a run for it to find someone. Anyone, as long as it meant I wasn't alone with this woman.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Still playing dumb? I guess I'll have to do something about that."

Her cackle made my skin crawl. I reached the short end of the table just as Scarlet arrived at its opposite side, dragging her red nails along the white surface as she rounded one corner of it. I thought of bloodied claws on snow.

"I really don't know anything," I insisted. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Oh, but you're much more fun to play with. So, I'll ask again and if I hear 'I don't know' one more time, I might just lose my patience. What does Tuesti want with you, hm?"

Just a little further, and the coast would be clear. A few more steps.

"He wants my suit. That's all."

"Oh please, you can do better than that. He already has the suit. Why does he want you?"

My arm bumped a solid surface and I flinched, instinctively looking away from the other woman. The moment I laid eyes on the small shelving unit, slender fingers gripped my jaw, yanking my face back around to stare straight into Scarlet's cold eyes. The woman was fast. Deceptively strong, too. I tried to jerk my head away, but the hand squeezed my chin in an iron grip, pushing my head back against the wall until I decided it best to stop struggling.

The executive took several seconds to study my face while my breathing grew more and more ragged, then gave me a cavalier smile. The grip on my face loosened.

"This doesn't have to get unpleasant. In fact, maybe there's a little something I could do for you in return."

I had barely processed what she had said when a manicured finger traced the line of my jaw, its long nail lightly scraping the skin. I froze, my eyes going wide.

"I could get you out of here. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Scarlet purred. "All you have to do is give me the dirty details on Tuesti. Tell me what he's planning and you'll be free."

Half-formed thoughts crashed and tumbled in my head. Just what the hell was going on here? My mouth opened and closed several times before it managed to form a question.

"Why would you do that?"

"Us girls should stick together. It's much more satisfying if we both get something out of it, don't you think?" The smile grew wicked as her hand slid down to rest around my throat. "It's really quite simple. You help me and I help you. What do you say?"

Was she threatening me or coming on to me? I could no longer tell. I had no idea how to deal with this either. I just stared at her, bewildered and wide-eyed, flattening myself against the wall. Maybe if I pressed back hard enough, the wall might have mercy and swallow me up.

"Sorry to interrupt the party, but I gotta nab your lil' plaything."

Never had I been so glad to hear that loud irreverent voice, but the increased pressure on my throat kept the relief at bay. Scarlet's gaze hardened into blue ice, but stayed firmly on my face.

"Leave, Turk. This 'party' is private."

"No can do. The girl's gotta be somewhere else, yo."

The woman twisted sideways, her head whipping around to face Reno. I could see the man past her shoulder, unperturbed by the glare leveled upon him.

"Says who? Tuesti?"

"Orders from the Prez. Want 'em changed? Go talk to him."

A startled gasp passed through my lips, the blood rushing from my face. Reno wasn't here to help me, was he? He was here as a Turk, sent in to deal with someone who knew too much, just as I had feared.

Scarlet glanced back at me. The annoyance plain on her face melted into satisfaction as she took in my shocked expression.

"Well, in that case," she crooned, releasing me. "Don't want to keep the President waiting, do we?"

Reno stepped aside to let the executive saunter out of the room, then propped himself in the doorway with one shoulder against the doorframe. Still, silent as a shadow, the faint smirk plastered on his face like a mask. His eyes examined me, half-lidded but unflinching, while I clung to the wall for support. I could only meet them for a couple of seconds before mine wandered downward, settling on the unkempt shirt revealed by the open jacket.

"She's lying to get what she wants, y'know. You can't trust her."

Why was he talking to me? He could at least make it quick.

"Am I supposed to trust you instead?"

My resentful remark brought no change. His eyes bored into me for a few more moments, but then he directed them toward the TV.

"Reeve asked for ya. You know what to do."

I did a double take. "Reeve? Not the–"

"You heard me."

The flood of relief was diminished by the man's curt behavior. He kept his eyes averted and despite the lifeless voice, I sensed a tension simmering right beneath the lax surface. I studied the profile of his blank face, trying to reign in the growing apprehension. I wasn't sure what I had expected after last night, but such coldness came as an unpleasant surprise.

"C'mon, get a move on. Don't got all day, yo."

The edge of irritated impatience cut deep. So, this was how it was going to be, then? Now that I knew one dark truth, the Turk had decided to skip the pretense of friendship too? I swallowed the bitter disappointment and obeyed.

As we walked to the workshop, the man yawned several times and kept rubbing his bloodshot eyes. He didn't mention the previous evening, nor did I. I didn't know what to say.

Reno stayed for a while, though I had no idea why. He said very little and made no attempt to initiate the usual banter. His apathy made me more uneasy than I wanted to admit. It reminded me of the cold-hearted man who had tormented me in the interrogation room.

The mind is a funny thing. On some level I must have thought of that person as a separate being, a different Reno, and didn't like having my conscious delusion toppled. It made me question myself and my actions, and drew attention to the fact that my personal safety was little more than an illusion, too.

The illusion of safety. There was another strange mechanism of a psyche under long-term duress. The human mind's capacity for self-deception never ceased to amaze me.

The redhead had pulled Reeve aside for a hushed report as soon as we arrived, no doubt on what he had witnessed in the patient lounge, but neither man had brought it up with me. Fine by me; I didn't want to talk about it. However, while I would rather have just forgotten about the awkward encounter, I couldn't push Scarlet's offer of freedom out of my mind – or perhaps more accurately, the Turk's warning about it. Yes, she was likely lying, but why should I just take Reno's word over hers? He was the one who lied and deceived for a living.

Every time my eyes fell on the Turk's uncaring face, it bloody well hurt. The worst part was that I had only myself to blame. What had I expected, really? Genuine amity? A bit of human compassion? I had seen what he could do long ago. I should have known that instead of a conscience there would only be darker secrets to discover.

Reeve noticed the frosty atmosphere, of course. When the redhead left the workshop, stalking out without a word, he asked me about it. I was hesitant to discuss the disastrous evening with a third party, until I realized Reeve might be the only ally I had left. As a Shinra executive, he must have been aware of the truth behind the Sector 7 incident, but everything I knew about the man suggested that he wouldn't have approved of it.

"Reno took me to the library floor so I could see Midgar," I said, testing the waters. "I guess he didn't realize I would also see Sector Seven from that side of the building."

The muscles in Reeve's jaw tightened.

"Ah. A damned disgrace, that was."

That was all I got. The executive wasn't going to volunteer information on the company's dirty secrets. If I wanted to talk about it, I would have to expose how much I already knew. Well, so be it. Reno would probably inform him of it sooner or later, anyway.

"It was Shinra, wasn't it?"

The man's eyebrows shot up, but otherwise he kept his composure.

"I see now," he said after a pause, then sighed. "It was Shinra, yes. I protested it, of course." He glanced around the workshop with a crooked smile. "Hence I spend my time in here for now, instead of in my office."

"What do you mean?"

"The President – the old one, that is – wasn't impressed by my attempt to bring reason into the boardroom. He 'suggested' I take some time off."

Quieting the voices of dissent. That certainly fit the image of Shinra I had pieced together.

"But there's a new President now?"

"There is, yes, but the old board remains and the executives are a stubborn bunch." The smile widened, but remained sardonic. "Maybe a break will be good for me. A chance to clear my head. Make some new friends."

I got the impression there was something hidden in his words. Why, I don't know. Maybe I had gotten better at looking for signs of deception after everything that had happened. Maybe I had just finally succumbed to paranoia.

Whatever it was, I had more important questions to ask right now. I glanced over at the door Reno had disappeared through only minutes before.

"So you avoid the people who made the call, yet you don't mind spending time with the Turk who actually made it happen?"

Reeve was silent for a while. Perhaps I had been a little too direct with my enquiry.

"Do you ask that of me, or yourself?"

I grew still as my words took on a whole new meaning. That was it, wasn't it? The troubling question I had been asking myself all day, now solidified into words and staring me in the face, though in my head it had sounded more like "What the hell is wrong with me?".

"I know what he put you through," the executive confessed quietly, his eyes fixed on an unfinished project on the nearest workbench. "I also know it didn't sit right with him."

I felt cold. The conversation had veered in a direction I had neither expected nor desired.

"Were you involved?"

I had to ask, despite the possibility that I wouldn't like the answer. To my relief, Reeve shook his head and lifted his eyes to meet mine.

"No. Unknown intruders inside HQ don't fall under Urban Development." A faint smirk. "Let's just say I've had to deal with the fallout."

"Explain in clear-cut sentences," I asked, keeping my tone neutral with some effort. "Please."

"Nothing is clear-cut when it comes to Reno," Reeve sighed with a subdued chuckle. "He's nothing but a bunch of crooked lines to read between. It's there in little things that don't mean much on their own, but together they begin to form a picture. An offhand suggestion here, a strange decision there. Maybe a few words that slip out if I happen to I find him in here nursing a bottle of whiskey, like last night."

It was difficult not to squirm under the pointed look he gave me.

"Why do you think that's to do with me? I hate to say it, but the man's got plenty of reasons to drink."

"True, but he didn't mention other reasons. He mentioned you."

My stomach fluttered with a confused unease I couldn't rationalize, but I shook my head with a harsh laugh.

"'Out of sight, out of mind.' That's what Reno claims is his way of dealing with a guilty conscience. Well, he sure hasn't tried to keep me out of his sight."

The man wasn't deterred by my bitter objection and remained thoughtful, his eyes once again aimed at the exposed machinery nearby. It was one of Reno's frivolous projects, I realized. Perhaps Reeve hoped an examination of the crisscrossing wires and half-finished soldering might elucidate the thought patterns of its creator.

"Maybe he just doesn't want you out of his mind."

Another cryptic comment. What a surprise. I gritted my teeth, struggling to keep my composure. I was too tired for this. Too rattled. Still, I made an effort.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The executive traced his beard in thought, taking a few moments to formulate his answer.

"Well, let me put it this way. He can't bring back those who were lost when the plate fell, but he was able to return you to the land of the living, so to speak. You're not just a reminder of past wrongdoings."

"Gee, you say the sweetest things, Reeve."

He smiled, letting go of his chin to rest his hands on his hips instead.

"You know what I mean."

As I tried to derive some sense from the vague information he had decided to share, my gaze landed on Reno's unfinished engineering project. To me, it just looked like a hopeless, tangled mess. I idly wondered if it best symbolized him, me or our relationship; then scoffed with amused derision at my own thoughts.

"Do I? I'm not so sure anymore."

"I can't claim to know what Reno's thinking," the executive mused. "I'm not sure he himself knows at times. But I do know that he keeps bending an awful lot of rules for you."

My head was slowly turning from side to side. Until this morning, Reno's quirky goodwill had seemed genuine. It was just so hard to believe someone like that could be sincere. It was even harder to trust myself to recognize it. I had been terribly wrong about people before.

"To return to your original question..." Reeve's words were measured, almost hesitant. "Reno may have a knack for creative interpretation of the rules, but not even he can afford to disobey direct orders. None of the Turks can, not anymore. They have been through some difficult times recently."

"I heard there used to be a lot more of them," I said, recalling Amanda's gossip. "Is that what you mean?"

"Yes," he sighed. "I'm sorry, but the less said about that, the better."

"Why? Because Reno killed them?"

Reeve actually looked shocked. That was a relief, I supposed.

"What? Where did you hear that?"

I shrugged. "Rumors."

"Well, you shouldn't believe everything you hear whispered around here," he scoffed. "Reno didn't kill any of them. They were his colleagues, his friends. Their departure hit him hard."

Reno, hit hard? It was difficult to imagine him caring that much about anything.

Then I remembered the look on his face the night before, the pent-up anger and the bitterness. Maybe it wasn't so difficult, after all.

"They left?"

Reeve straightened and shook his head.

"I've already told you too much. I'll say no more on this subject. Both for your sake and theirs."

The half-acknowledged truths and constant evasion annoyed me beyond belief, but I had learned enough about Shinra's policies regarding secrets to know Reeve had a crucial point. Midgar was a dangerous place for someone with too much knowledge. It wasn't as if I would know what to do with that kind of information, anyway.

"I've known Reno since he was rookie," he continued. "If he gets on your nerves now, imagine the guy as a hormonal teenager." He chuckled when I made a face. "Made the mistake of upgrading that mag rod of his once or twice. Now I can't get rid of him."

"Sounds familiar," I mumbled to myself, unable to keep a small smile from my lips.

"Still, it's not like he spent all of his downtime in my workshop before. I imagine he annoyed his comrades on the Turk floor instead. But now, well..."

Three of them left, Amanda had said, plus a new rookie. Reno never talked about the details of his job, but just by seeing him come and go, it seemed a lot of field work was involved. Much more than before, I guessed, if the severely decimated unit had to deal with an unchanged workload. The others probably spent just as little time at the office. It was odd to think of the carefree, chatty redhead as lonely, but I got the feeling that was Reeve's point.

"He's not a bad kid," he sighed with a melancholy look on his face. "Loud, rude, obnoxious, but not a bad kid. That's the problem."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a strange daze. Reeve tinkered with the suit's programming, which meant many extended breaks for me. I spent them with my face buried in some article the executive had brought for me to read, but my eyes kept retreading the first paragraph. I was haunted by recent conversations, hearing them replay time and time again in my mind.

You think I had any fuckin' choice?

He keeps bending an awful lot of rules for you.

I'm a Turk. I hurt, I lie, I kill.

No even he can afford to disobey direct orders.

I didn't know what to think anymore. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Was I supposed to do anything at all, for that matter? Hell, why was I even agonizing over this? The man was a killer with more on his conscience than I could imagine. He had left plenty of invisible scars on me. I owed him nothing.

Maybe so, but the situation just didn't feel right. The peculiar dichotomy reared its head again. It hadn't been Reno the coldblooded Turk who had spent time with us in the workshop. It had just been Reno, as quick with his playful grins as with his comebacks. If I was completely honest with myself, I already missed his company. I even missed the godawful jokes.

He mentioned you.

I recalled the hurt on his face as I recoiled from him and the brief glimpse of the resigned absence of hope within. Some emotion stirred deep inside me. It may have been guilt or empathy; it may have been something else entirely. All I knew was that it wouldn't allow me to give up on Reno without so much as an attempt to talk to the man. When he came back, I would at least try.

Only by the time our work came to an end for that day, the red-haired Turk hadn't returned.

A/N: I suppose this is as good a time as any to mention that Reeve and Reno's friendship was originally inspired by a one-shot called Wildcard by KittenFair. If you haven't read it, it's definitely worth looking up!

And just as a FYI, the next couple of months will be filled with travelling, family obligations etc. I'll try to keep the updates coming more or less once a week, but don't be too hard on me if the schedule slips.

As always, thank you for reading!