The last stretch of work ended up being no more than a few hours. The damage done by the Weapon, combined with the unreliable lighting caused by the ailing power grid, made the city streets too dangerous to navigate in the dark.

"That's enough for one day, Fitz," Reno said when I met up with him after a sweep of the buildings on our current block. He gave me a weary smirk. "Guess since your place is outta the question, we gotta take this party to mine, yo."

The Turk wasn't just joking around. As he led the way to Sector 5, we met up with Elena and Rude. She was carrying what looked like a pile of towels. I was too tired to inquire.

"The whole sector's been on some kinda jury-rigged power supply after AVALANCHE blew the reactor," Reno explained on the way, "but it's the only one that's been reliable since Meteor got too close. Go figure. Rude's place was in Five too, but it got trashed when the Weapon blasted HQ to bits."

I found my mind drifting from one idle, pointless thought to another. The scenery blended together into a colorless mass of asphalt, nondescript facades and rubble as we trudged onward on desolate streets. In the silence, the muted squeal of the twisted exoskeleton was audible with every step. I hoped it didn't grate on everyone's nerves as badly as it did on mine.

Reno brought us into a building much like the others on its street, and up a flight of stairs. He strode into his apartment without looking back as soon as he had opened the door. Moments later, a pleasured groan sounded from inside.

The rest of us filed in at a slower pace. The front door led into the living room, where Reno had stretched out on the couch, his dirty boots propped up on one of the armrests. Elena occupied the only chair, while Rude disappeared into the kitchen, judging by the countertop filled with dishes I glimpsed through the doorway.

There were no other seats within view, so I remained standing near the front door, unsure of what to do with myself. The main feature of the living room was a large TV. A bookshelf was laden with colorful magazines, old takeout boxes and a cracked mug filled with bullets, of all things. There were no photos or posters, no books, no knickknacks. It felt more like a company breakroom than a home.

"I believe we haven't met."

I flinched at the sound of a voice beside me. Whipping my head around, I found myself fixed by a pair of emotionless eyes.

"Yo, boss man," Reno said with a halfhearted wave. "This is Therèse FitzEvan. Y'know, the scientist I told ya 'bout? Fitz, say hi to Tseng."

I couldn't help but fidget a little under the scrutiny of Tseng's piercing gaze, but I returned the favor nonetheless. The Director of the Turks was younger than I had expected. The immaculate suit, straight hair and rigid posture provided a sharp contrast to the redhead lounging on the sofa. Not Midgar-born, as far as I could tell; his features suggested he was Wutaian.

At least, that's what Amanda would say. The book Reno had given me used the word Wutainese. I had no way of knowing which was right. I had heard the red-haired Turk himself say "Wutai prick" once, but I doubted that was the politically correct term. Tseng would know, of course, but it didn't seem the right time to ask.

"Hi," I said.

"Doctor," was the calm greeting I received. "You have returned. Does this mean we need to worry about more attacks by your people?"

I wasn't sure if he used the term on purpose to test the waters, but I decided to make my allegiances – or rather, the lack of them – absolutely clear.

"They're not my people, and no, there will be no more attacks. The Gateway has been destroyed."

My information provoked no visible reaction.

"Hm. I see."

"She's cool, Tseng," Reno piped up. "She helped us out with the evac, yo."

His boss looked me over again, his face a mask of control. I had no idea what the man was thinking.

"Reno, a word in private," he said.

The redhead snapped his eyes open to stare at his boss with miffed incredulity.

"Now? I just sat down!"

"You're stretching the word 'sit' far beyond its customary definition. A word. Now."

Tseng strode into a room beside the kitchen. Reno pushed himself off the couch, infusing his every move with petulance, but chose to restrict his audible griping to only one word.

"Balls."

By the doorway, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

"Hey Fitz, the shower's over there if you wanna go first."

He pointed to a door across the room, then followed his boss into what I presumed to be the bedroom. If it was a tactical move to ensure privacy during their talk, it worked. I ripped Sparky off my body at the opportunity to clean myself with running water. When Reno made brief reappearance, it was barely in time to shove a bundle of clothing into my hands before I claimed the bathroom.

The shower was long, scalding hot and utter bliss. I didn't emerge until I was a human prune. The feel of clean clothes was just as heavenly, even though they were designed for men and a size or two too big. As I slipped into them, it finally occurred to me to marvel at such thoughtfulness from the carefree Turk. It gave me the chance to subject my own clothing to much-needed washing, without the daunting prospect of spending the rest of the evening wrapped in a towel in front of strangers.

However, the considerate impression was diminished by the huge grin on Reno's face when I returned to the living room.

"Did ya shrink in the wash, Fitz? You're frickin' tiny!"

I hoisted the sweatpants higher with as much dignity as I could muster – which only brought my toes into view – and sent a dirty look at their owner.

"Says the scrawniest of the Turks."

"Pff, I ain't scrawny. I'm a lean, mean, fightin' machine, yo!"

To prove it, he flung his feet off the armrest and pushed himself off the sofa in a single movement, landing on his feet in front of me. It was impressive, but I made damned sure that particular sentiment wasn't visible on my face. Reno looked me over again with that same goofy smile.

"But you, you're just sorta adorable."

I narrowed my eyes.

"It's funny. I can't tell if you're trying to compliment me or if you just want to piss me off."

"Can't it be both?"

In a dastardly sneak attack, his hand shot out to ruffle my damp hair.

"Hey!"

He danced out of my reach with a gleeful cackle, avoiding my swat, and vanished into the room I had just exited. Deciding my dignity had already suffered enough, I merely glowered after him for a second before plopping myself down on the couch he had vacated. Sitting down, Reno's t-shirt ended up covering half of my thighs, making me feel even more like a bloody hobbit.

"So, you survived."

As I looked over at the pixie-like Elena drowning in the plush chair, I couldn't help but notice that she was smaller than me. Then again, as a Turk she had to be at least fifty times deadlier, too. I supposed that might disqualify her from the adorable camp.

Elena didn't sound or look hostile, but she wasn't friendly either. Curious, mostly, and suspicious. I didn't know how much Reno had told her or the others about me, so I didn't know if she was referring to the attack on HQ or my actions on Earth. Unsure of my position among these Shinra agents, I was loathe to reveal too much.

"Did I? At times I wonder if I just ended up in a very special kind of hell."

With a wry smile, I shifted my gaze toward the bathroom. The muffled sounds of splashing water and off-key singing could be heard through the door. When our eyes met again, there was a faint smile on the other woman's face, too. It didn't eliminate the air of calculating appraisal, though.

"You were pretty vague about your escape earlier."

"There was nothing exact about it."

"Uh huh. Then there's the fact that you were so conveniently delivered to us by known members of another terrorist organization."

"Hm. I suppose I was, yes."

Weeks of hounding by Orca's inquisitors had taught me to be subtler about my dodging, but in this case I didn't bother, hoping she would take the hint. Not that the tactic was working. At this rate I would have to be blunt about it, though I wasn't convinced the direct approach would work either.

It turned out Elena was happy to skip ahead to bluntness.

"Are you evading my questions on purpose?"

Oh, it was too perfect a setup. I couldn't resist the temptation.

"As far as I'm aware, no questions were asked."

I did keep the smugness off my face, though.

That threw her off balance for a moment, but it didn't deter her. Elena's technique may have needed work, but she made up for it with plenty of tenacity.

"Okay, here's one," she challenged, a sour note creeping into her voice. "Their leader wanted you, specifically. Why?"

"I'm a researcher. He wanted something researched."

The sourness was now visible in her expression, too. Well, too bad. As far as I was concerned, we were all Reno's guests, meaning I had no obligations toward this woman. I didn't know her and I wasn't in the mood to relate traumatic experiences to a stranger.

"So, a 'researcher' manages to outsmart and take down a group of terrorists that successfully attacked Shinra HQ, by herself? You understand why I'm skeptical, right?"

Our eyes locked. Hers were brown, too, though a lighter shade than what I would see in the mirror. The stubbornness in them was no doubt more accurately reflected.

As we stared each other down, I could see Elena's internal debate in each little twitch of an eyebrow, every tug at her lips. It occurred to me that I was not the only one uncertain about my standing among the Turks. I suspected my friendly relationship with Reno was the only thing saving me from a full-on interrogation. Oh, irony.

"Elena."

We both turned our heads at the deep voice sounding from the kitchen door.

"A hand, please," Rude rumbled.

The female Turk looked surprised, and in the presence of a senior agent, she lost her composure.

"Oh! Oh, of course," she babbled, scrambling out of the chair. "I'll be right with you."

I hadn't noticed how much tension had been in the air, until it fizzled out upon Rude's request. I waited until they had both left the room, then slumped back with a long sigh.

A few minutes later the bathroom door opened. I glanced up from the tech magazine I was leafing through and did a double take when I got an eyeful of pale limbs and wiry muscle. One dark blue towel was slung around Reno's hips while he toweled his hair with another. I let my eyes linger on the man's toned abs while he was occupied with the task. It was only fair, I mused, considering he had seen me in my underwear on more than one occasion.

Reno let the second towel slide down around his neck and held onto it with both hands, cocking his head to the side with a puzzled expression as he stepped further into the room. He paused by the couch and peeked into the kitchen, then looked over at me with raised eyebrows.

"Laney givin' ya trouble, Doc?"

It was strange seeing his wet hair, several shades darker than usual, hang limp around his face. Without competition for attention, his pretty eyes looked huge and made him look even younger.

How old was he, anyway? Younger than me, I was certain of that, but I had the nagging suspicion the difference wasn't as great as one might think. Reno's appearance – and manner – was deceiving, in more ways than one.

"I'm surprised you could hear anything over all that singing."

He responded to my smile with a boyish grin.

"Nah, couldn't hear a thing, but I know Rude. The rookie started givin' ya a hard time, right?"

Now that was an unexpected turn. At the time, it hadn't occurred to me to read anything into Rude's actions. I didn't know what to make of it. I glanced over at the kitchen, but all I could glimpse was Elena setting the table, chattering at the bald man.

"She was asking questions," I admitted. "About James and Orca."

Reno grimaced, then wiped his face with the end of the towel to catch a few drops trickling down over his forehead.

"Sorry 'bout that, Fitz," he said through the terry cloth. "Laney's still a bit too eager 'bout the job and she doesn't know about... Well, y'know."

"How we first met?"

He let the towel fall, but kept his eyes toward the kitchen.

"Yeah," he said flatly. "I'll tell her to ease up."

"Don't worry about it." I was on the verge of continuing with it wasn't as bad as that time, but caught my blunder at the last second. "I imagine there will be official questions eventually," I said instead.

Assuming we would live through the week, of course, though I left that part unsaid. Everyone may have been thinking it, but no one wanted to say it out loud.

"Hard to say." An odd, faraway look appeared in his eyes. "Shinra as we know it is finished, so nothin's 'official' anymore."

I detected a melancholy note, maybe even concern. Reno didn't say much about his past, but I gathered that his job as a Shinra Turk had brought him stability and security. While I was convinced that less power in the hands of the Shinra Electric Power Company could only be a good thing, it occurred to me that the change came with a high cost for its employees.

"I know the boss man has questions," he continued, "but that'll be more like a debrief than anythin'. I'm sure Reeve can sit in with ya for that, if you like."

"Why not you?"

I voiced the first thought that popped into my mind, though the reason became apparent to me half a second later. Reno was caught off guard. I suspected it was less the suggestion itself and more the fact that I had made it in the first place. I surprised myself, to be honest, but I was glad I did. After all, my reward was seeing one of those rare, genuine smiles on his face.

"Eh, whatever. It's nothin' you need to worry 'bout right now."

If it hadn't been such a foreign sentiment to pin on the ostentatious Turk, I would have said he seemed a bit flustered. He averted his gaze with the pretext of noticing his state of dress, or rather, undress.

"Anyway, best put on some clothes before I shock Laney with my sinfully sexy body, yo."

I smirked.

"But it's okay to shock me?"

"You? Shocked?" He laughed. "Oh, baby, you can't fool me with that sweet, innocent face of yours. You like whatcha see."

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. While admittedly there was some truth to it, I rolled my eyes on principle.

"Go find your pants already, Turk."

Once the others had taken their turns in the shower, it was time for us all to squeeze around Reno's tiny kitchen table like a dysfunctional family. I was the only one dressed with such thorough informality, although everyone except Tseng had discarded their jackets. Rude had even rolled up his sleeves while cooking; that, more than anything, helped me feel more at ease during the meal.

Reno provided most of the chitchat, which came as a surprise to no one. Rude, on the other hand, proved himself to be a man of hidden talents by conjuring up dinner for us all with the meager stores of his coworker's kitchen. It would have been a decent meal by any standards, but for someone who had subsisted on dried rations for a month and a half – not to mention persevering through a day of hard work on scavenged candy bars – it was downright amazing.

Reno's apartment was tidier than I had expected; I wondered if Rude had something to do with that, too. My impression of Elena suggested she was too awed by her senior colleagues to touch the private belongings of one of them on her own initiative, but also had enough of a backbone to tell Reno off if he tried to make her clean. I could picture the aloof Tseng as something of a neat freak, but not in someone else's abode. Rude, on the other hand, seemed quite at home in the redhead's apartment and possessed some domestic skills, making him the likeliest candidate.

Besides, who could resist the mental image of the burly, stoic man with a frilly apron and a feather duster in hand?

After dinner, Tseng excused himself and retired to the bedroom; he was still on the mend from his injuries, Reno explained. He said nothing about their private discussion, but I decided not to waste energy by worrying about his boss. Until I was told otherwise, I would assume my presence wasn't unwelcome.

The rest of us moved into the living room, where Elena set out to clean her gun, while Reno occupied himself by trying to figure out the reason for Sparky's wonky leg. He soon had me going through the mechanics of the exoskeleton with him. He roped Rude into helping out as well.

"Don't worry, Rude's pretty good when it comes to tinkerin' with stuff. You should see some of the flashy fireworks he's put together, yo."

Aided by the excited gleam in Reno's eyes, I translated that to mean that the bald man was the resident bomb expert. How that piece of information was supposed to make me feel comfortable about him working on my suit was beyond me. However, watching the large Turk carefully dismantle the damaged section of the exoskeleton, I had to admit he knew how to handle tools and small mechanical parts. Between the three of us, the bent part was straightened out, reattached and oiled to blissful silence.

"Thank fuck," Reno announced with no small amount of satisfaction when the job was done. "That squeaky limp was drivin' me nuts all day."

Rude seemed pleased with his work as well. It was hard to tell, though, as he was still wearing his sunglasses. Indoors. At night. As odd as it was, he was in like-minded company, as Reno's goggles were also perched on his forehead. I decided to chalk it up to Turk quirks.

At that point, my eyes were falling shut on their own accord. The Turks left the bedroom to their injured chief, so we all shared the living room for the night. I had no complaints, not even about the whistling winds and frequent thunderclaps of another storm raging outside. The thin mattress on the floor, accompanied by three others, seemed like a delight simply by virtue of being above ground and near a window. The accursed sleeping pod I had been forced to sleep in during my stay with Orca – more like a bloody high-tech coffin, if you asked me – would no doubt haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.

I got the spot furthest away from the bedroom, next to Reno, and plunged into sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.