A/N: This chapter got a bit long, but there were a bunch of things I wanted to cover. So, pull out the popcorn and get comfy?
(One quick note: there is a phrase later in the chapter that talks about marrow. Since blood cells are made in the bone marrow, this phrase is just a fancy way of saying the person is bleeding.)
"What's Scarlet after?" The volume of the recording is soft, the sound tinny, but it does nothing to dampen the fury Elena can see brewing underneath Scarlet's skin. The rage forming when the treasonous witch hears just who Elena had been interrogating.
"L-Like… Like I'd tell you!"
"Oh? Well, that's a shame. I guess I'll just have to put another bullet through your hand to match… Or maybe I should put it where the sun doesn't shine instead? That might get you talking."
"No, w-wait!" The plea is desperate, frantic, and Elena is glad she had left the trooper hog-tied in that storage closet – she's sure the punishment for turning on Scarlet is death. "It was all Director Scarlet's idea, I swear! Banora, the trains, everything! She thought if she got her hands on that cadet, she'd get the answers she was looking for!"
"By 'cadet', you mean Cadet Cloud Strife, correct?"
"Y-Yes!"
Elena presses the stop button with a little more force than absolutely necessary, but if she had learned one thing from studying Commander Rhapsodos and his love of the stage, it was that a successful play needed a certain flair, a certain extravagance. And what was this audition of hers but a carefully crafted play? "Give it up, Scarlet. It's over," she orders, willing herself to be taller, more impressive for her two-SOLDIER audience. "You've got nowhere to run."
Surprisingly, Scarlet does give up. She drops her head to the side and sighs, all of her previous anger replaced with a somewhat amused resignation. "It certainly looks that way, doesn't it?" she laments and shoves her hands out in front of her. "Well then, I guess you better take me away!"
"Uh…" Kunsel voices his confusion, a sentiment Elena finds she shares – she hadn't expected it to be this easy either. But she still presses further into the room, her borrowed gun trained on Scarlet's face.
"How did you get there that fast, Gun?" A voice crackles to life in her ear, and it takes until her sister answers for her to understand that there were cameras in the room.
And the Turks could see her on them.
"What are you talking about? We only just left the office!"
"That's because somebody couldn't find their gun."
"Shut up, Katana! I wasn't the one crying over a missing pen!"
"Hey! It's one of a kind!"
"Gun. Katana." A new voice cuts them off. A voice Elena knows far too well. "There will be time for that later. Now, though, we need to determine who went after Scarlet on their own."
"Yes, sir…"
The President was listening in too. And he was about to find out everything Elena had been up to.
"Nunchaku, patch over the feed."
This was her chance.
"Hey, watch ou—!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Elena's bloody id clatters to a stop at Rufus's feet and he vaguely hears himself asking, a hundred miles away, why Kadaj had done this. What it was he hoped to gain.
"Turk down! I repeat, Turk down!"
But that wasn't real.
Not anymore.
What was real was Elena's 15-year-old self crumpling to the floor in the middle of his PHS screen, and the anger that flares to life in his chest because of it.
What was she doing there?
Hadn't he told her she was too young for this?
"Oh no…" Reeve's horrified voice breaks through Rufus's building vexation, and it's all the incentive Rufus needs to smooth his mask back out.
There would be time for anger later, too. But first things first – he had a foolish girl to find.
And a director to kill.
"Reeve," he calls, but he needn't finish his command. Reeve already knows.
"I can handle things here, sir."
"Good," he says, and turns to Tseng. "Let's go."
"…'geal… What's going on?"
Angeal heaves a great sigh and prepares himself for the coming conversation – as reckless as Zack could be, he wasn't an idiot. And he wouldn't let Angeal get out of this for much longer. "I apologize, Zack. I haven't been entirely truthful with you," he admits, the words heavy on his tongue. He had promised not to hide anything from Zack again, but good intentions or not, he had just broken that vow. And he might never regain the boy's trust as a result. "That was the President. This entire mission was a setup from the start."
"Shit!" one of the troopers yells, but Angeal doesn't give him a chance to reach for his weapon.
He had run out of patience for these traitors.
"Don't." His voice echoes sternly throughout the cavern as he casts Stop on the lot of them simultaneously. (He might not be as magically-inclined as Gen, but he could handle this much, at least.) "You'll get what's coming to you soon enough."
Angeal would too, if the growing apprehension on Zack's face was anything to go by.
"What do you mean… a setup?" Zack asks carefully, unease bleeding into his voice.
And this was the part Angeal had been dreading the most – breaking the news to Zack. "You were right about the Behemoths before, Puppy – they had been tampered with. It was all part of an elaborate ruse to lure us out of Midgar."
"Shit! Is everybody ok?"
"Yes." He nods his head as confidently as he can manage. "Everybody will be fine."
"Cool, cool." Zack's relief lasts for all of a moment, and then he comes to a jarring stop. "Wait… What do you mean everybody will be fine?"
"Later, Zack."
"Not later! Now!"
"Zack."
"Dammit, Angeal! What aren't you telling me?"
.
.
.
It's not a pleasant conversation, not in the slightest. But the part Angeal hates the most is when Zack's slowly rebuilt trust twists into a heartbreaking mix of horror and betrayal, before shuttering away completely.
"Have you known about this the entire time?" Zack asks, his voice carefully blank.
A weaker man would brush Zack off. Would try to insist that his actions were justified, regardless of how much hurt he had caused in the process. But Angeal wasn't weak. Not anymore. So instead, he utters a single, damning word. "Yes."
"I see…"
He hopes Zack will be able to forgive him one day.
More so, he hopes he'll be worthy of that forgiveness.
But for now, he breathes another sad sigh and says, "I promise I'll explain everything to you later. First, though—" he reverses his spell on the troopers – "I think it's about time we took out the trash."
Kunsel had failed.
Spectacularly.
The evidence was destroyed. The Turk, dead, lying in a pool of her own blood. And Scarlet was still free to do as she pleased. All because Kunsel had let himself get distracted. All because he had let himself believe that Scarlet really was sincere. That she really had been turning herself in.
And the young Turk had paid the price for it.
"Rather presumptuous to ignore your opponent, is it not?"
It's a threat and a taunt, all wrapped up in one gaudy package. But it's also a warning – the only one Kunsel gets before Scarlet launches another volley his way.
"Shit!" he yells and dives to his left, just as the missiles go hurtling past his head and explode upon impact with the materia pods on the far side of the room.
BOOM!
"My, my, how impressive!" Scarlet jeers and caresses the control panel of the mech armor she's piloting. (At least it wasn't Kunsel's arm anymore, so he'll take what he can get.) "And here I thought you wouldn't be able to dodge that."
She's waiting for an answer, he knows, but he doesn't give her that satisfaction. Instead, he rolls back to his feet and says a small prayer for the downed Turk – please don't actually be dead.
"Couerl got your tongue?" Scarlet mocks, the silence apparently too much for her. "Or have you finally given up?"
Given up? No. But he's certainly kicking himself for believing that he and Lux would be enough for this.
Unless…
Maybe…
He's not sure why he thinks of it – that maybe he wasn't the only one that could be distracted. That if he tried hard enough, maybe he could convince Scarlet to forget all about Lux and focus her attention on him instead. Leaving her open for Lux to get a hit in.
It was hella risky.
But it was the only plan he had right now.
So, he gestures Lux's way. Presses his index and middle fingers together by his side, and then slowly, silently draws them apart until they form a V pointing inwards towards his thigh – I'll distract her, you attack. Simple, subtle, and a code only SOLDIERs should know.
If they hadn't been compromised too, that is.
Lux nods almost imperceptibly, Scarlet appears none the wiser, still toying threateningly with the mech's control panel, and Kunsel throws his hasty-acquired plan into action. "Given up? Yeah, right," he scoffs and waves a hand in the direction of the fallen Turk and her shattered PHS. "I just don't know why you think you're going to get away with any of this. Your men have been killed, Cloud is still alive, and the President knows everything. Just accept that you've failed already, you stupid, old hag."
The twitching is slight, brief – there for a moment and gone in a flash – and then all that's left behind is that same mocking smile plastered on Scarlet's face. "You SOLDIERs, so feisty," she chuckles, her playful tone hiding something far more sinister. "It's a shame, really. I had such fun things planned for us. But I suppose I'll have to settle for killing you instead," she says and, with a flick of her wrist, launches the mech at him.
He barely has a chance to act this time, the mech's rampage like fire compared to the frying pan that were the missiles earlier. He ducks, and feels the wind whizzing past his helmeted head. Throws himself to the side, only to find that the distance between himself and Scarlet has not changed in any way.
It's unsettling, he'll admit. But he still ensures that every jump, every side-step serves its purpose, drawing Scarlet's attention further towards him and away from Lux waiting for his signal off to the side.
"Oh dear," Scarlets laments after Kunsel manages to avoid another robotic fist to the face. "It's not nearly as fun if you keep running away."
"I don't care about your entertainment!" he goads, just as the tendrils of his Limit Break start to surface.
Finally.
"Aww, darling," she taunts back. "This isn't about me. It's about you and how tense you must be after lying to me for so long." She clicks her tongue and feigns sympathy. "What a shame. But don't worry, I know just how to loosen you up."
The mech's clawed hand slices through the air, but this time, Kunsel raises his sword to meet it. The clang of metal is harsh and the force behind the blow, intense, but he moves one hand from the hilt of his sword to the flat of his blade and pushes back with all of his might. "Go for it!" he yells.
"Oh, I will!" Scarlet laughs and renews her efforts to force him to his knees, as if she doesn't quite realize that the words weren't meant for her.
As if she doesn't quite see Lux charging in from behind until he's sliced a deep gash into the back of the mech.
"Why, you—" Scarlet tries to turn a snarl Lux's way, but it's already too late. The mech staggers and stumbles, and Kunsel finally – finally – activates his Limit Break and cleaves the machine's control panel in two.
It's over after that.
The mech wobbles precariously on its metal feet, and Kunsel savors the look of alarm on Scarlet's face as it crashes to the floor and goes up in a billow of smoke and flames. That's what she gets.
But to her credit, she doesn't make a sound, doesn't beg for help or cry for mercy. Instead, she crawls authoritatively from the wreckage, spits her hair out of her mouth, and then attempts to push herself back to her feet.
Kunsel doesn't let her.
"That's enough, Scarlet," he commands and presses the edge of his sword to her throat. "It's over."
But Scarlet doesn't pay him any mind. She angles her hip out, trails a hand slowly up her bared leg, and flashes them a disarming smile from her position kneeling oil- and grease-stained on the floor. "Oh, don't say that. We're just getting started."
Two minutes.
That's how long it takes to settle things, Angeal estimates, most of it spent figuring out what to do with the trooper who claimed to have had no part in any of this. Whose voice had triggered Zack so bad, had dug up all the repressed trauma from his death – "You were on the ridge that day…" – that Angeal had almost abandoned all semblance of honor to avenge his Puppy.
He needn't have bothered.
For Zack had listened to the man's desperate plea – "I s-swear I didn't know anything! I was j-just following orders!" – curled his hand tighter around the hilt of his sword, and between one tense breath and the next, completely deflated. "Go lie in the corner. Hands on your head."
It was a show of restraint unlike any other. And a sign of just how affected Zack had been by the war Angeal and Genesis had started.
Something that Angeal would forever be making amends for.
"Well, Puppy," he says and pushes all thoughts of his failures to the back of his mind for now. "The sooner we clean things up here," he turns towards Zack, "the sooner we can head—"
Thwack!
The punch is not entirely unexpected, but it still breaks Angeal's heart.
"You promised you wouldn't lie to me again, dammit!" Zack yells, and Angeal's not sure if the red he sees is the blood on his own face or the anger on Zack's. "And don't call me Puppy! You've lost that privilege!"
"I'm sorry, Zack. I really—"
"Sorry doesn't change anything! You lied to me, man! You said you wouldn't, and you still did! How can I trust a single word out of your mouth now?"
The way Zack shakes, Angeal knows he still wants to hit him. And, if it came to it, he would let him. For now, though, he settles for trying to salvage the entire situation. "I promised I wouldn't keep anything important from you anymore, and I meant it." Zack scoffs, but otherwise doesn't interrupt. "I just couldn't risk Cloud's safety while those men were watching our every step."
Unfortunately, it's not the right thing to say, not with the scowl that works its way across Zack's face. "So, what, you didn't think I could handle the truth or something? Gaia's sake, this is exactly what I'm talking about! This is exactly like when you ran off with Genesis!"
And left me behind goes unspoken, but Angeal hears it anyway. "If you had known, would that have made things any easier?"
"Of course not! I woulda…" Zack trails off, a frown on his face.
"Then you have your answer." Angeal pulls the handkerchief Genesis had given him from his pocket – the one with the crimson 'A.H.' embroidered in the corner – and dabs gently at the blood on his face. "That's the reason I didn't say anything. I couldn't put you through the same pain of not knowing Cloud's fate. And I would do it all over again if I had to."
"Couerl got your tongue?"
"Wha…?" Elena asks groggily, her consciousness returning to her with every ounce of warmth leeched from her body, every pinprick of dread running its way down her spine. "Wha's… going… on?" she manages to say, her mouth dry as cotton. But it's the never-ending black she finds on the other side of her too-stiff eyelids that hammers down the sense that something was seriously wrong here.
"Or have y—ally giv—up?"
"Who… Who's… there?" she calls (croaks, really), straining against the tether pulling her deeper into the icy void and further away from the voices she swears she should know.
"Giv—up? Yea—ght."
She struggles. Pushes herself to her elbows first, and from there, to her knees. "Show… yourself…!" she rasps, but there's no response. There's no change. "I… said… show… yourself…!" She manages to get a foot beneath her—
—and falls right back down into the puddle she had woken up in.
"Dammit…!" she growls and slaps the water with her hands. "Dammit…! Dammit…! Dammit…!" Why was this so hard? Why was it so damn indicative of everything in her life? Elena the Screwup, Elena the Scatterbrained, Elena the Spare.
Couldn't she do anything right?
"Told ya this would happen, yo."
Elena gasps and whips her head around (not unlike an eager mutt). "Reno…?" she yells, but Reno isn't there. An arch of glowing, white light is – light that she hadn't seen before. "Reno… is… that… you…?" she calls to the arch, hoping that Reno was just hiding within.
Reno doesn't answer.
Nobody does.
She doesn't let that stop her, though. She pushes herself slowly, painfully, deliberately to her feet and staggers towards the light. "Reno… are… you… there…?"
Whaddya think yer doin', knucklehead? she thinks he would have said. Probably would have told her she wasn't even going the right way. But where was she supposed to go? She couldn't stay here, cowering in the dark forever. That wasn't any way to live her life.
So, she follows the siren call of the light instead, foot over leaden foot, through the arch and into the unknown beyond. "Reno…?"
Five, six, seven steps pass in white nothingness, the only sound to be heard that of the squelching of her soggy dress shoes across the pale expanse. But then, like a train coming to the end of a tunnel, color starts to splotch its way back in the closer she gets to her final destination.
The grey of the floor.
The green of the materia pods.
And the red of the oversized chair in the center of the room.
Well… perhaps not red exactly. More like… scarlet.
Elena chokes on her breath – how had she forgotten? "Scarlet…!" she yells, hobbling faster into the dreary room. "Show… yourself…!" But what greets her, as she scrambles to find her borrowed gun, are the backs of four very familiar people.
Shit.
"Mr… Mr… President…" she says, slowing to a tottering limp as she packs all of those dreams of grandeur back into the box she never should have opened up in the first place. "I… I'm… sorry… sir… but… Scarlet… got… away…"
Nobody acknowledges her, though. Not openly at least. Reno tuts, "Told ya she was too young," but his back remains turned to her. And she can't decide what hurts the most.
All of it, probably.
"I… I… didn't… mean…" she sniffles, the rest of her words drowned out by her shame at failing once again.
But they don't care.
"Maybe we can finally get things done for a change," Rude says.
And Elena's breath stutters to a stop. Rude had always been the most patient with her, the most lenient. But now he was dismissing her completely.
Had she lost everything then? Her job? Her comrades?
Her family?
"Your orders, sir?" Tseng asks.
The President tilts his head, unconcerned, and Elena waits for the gavel to fall. "Gun is the real Turk," he says. "We don't need her sister anymore."
Elena flinches. "Please… sir…" she begs, through tears and the chattering of her own teeth. "Just… give… me… one… more…" chance, she means to say, but the word doesn't come out. Not when Tseng kneels down, and Elena finally sees what it is the four of them are all standing around.
When she finally sees the black bag on the floor…
…and her own dead body nestled within it.
"No… no… no… no…" she rattles off, horrified. "I'm… not… dead…! I'm… right… here…! I… swear…!"
But she might as well be mute for all the attention her words bring her. "Good riddance," Tseng says, a jagged knife through her (still beating?) heart. And then, with more finality than Elena can bear, he zips the body bag closed.
"No… stop…!" she pleads, reaching a hand out for someone – anyone – to finally acknowledge her. "This… isn't… funny… g-g-guys…"
Wait.
Her hand.
Rude fades right before her very eyes, but she hardly notices. Not when her attention is fixated on something far more pressing right now.
Her hand – no, hands – are frosting over. Her fingers, covered in blood. Her skin, tinted blue-grey. And her once stainless, tearless dress shirt, now dyed red, a small hole just below her breast still leaching all of her marrow's hard work.
"No… no… no… no…" Hysteria builds up, but there's nothing she can do to stop it. She hunches over, fists her bloody, icy hands in her hair, and screws her eyes shut as tight as possible. "This… isn't… real… This… isn't… real… This… isn't… real…" she says as if on repeat, her voice growing louder with every second she fails to return to reality and with every painful lash of those too cruel words against her ears.
Told ya she was too young.
Good riddance.
Too young. Too young. Tooyoungtooyoungtooyoungtooyoung—
"Shut… up…!" she yells, her chest throbbing as the words brand their way into her very soul. "Shut… up…! Shut… up…! Shut… up…!"
"Child."
Child? How dare they. "I… said… shut… up…!"
"It's not yet your time."
"This… isn't… a… damn…" joke, she means to say, scowls and scrubs the shards of ice from her vision and everything. But once she gets a good look at the creature in front of her, nothing else matters.
For it's not Reno or any one of her supposed comrades there, mocking her, but rather a large, rainbow-colored bird with wings aflame.
A bird she would recognize anywhere, even if the knowledge wasn't currently being breathed straight into her core. "P-Phoenix…"
Phoenix inclines its head, pleased. "You've been gifted a second chance, child." The bird's beak doesn't move, but Elena can hear it all the same, its words rattling her brittle bones. "Use it wisely."
A second chance? "What… do… you… mean…?"
But Phoenix doesn't answer her, not with words at least. It flaps its fiery wings – once, twice, thrice – ascending regally into the air, its multicolored plumage on full display. And then, between one lethargic blink and the next, it lets out an earth-shaking Cawww! and dives back her way.
Dives straight at her.
She tries to jump away, tries to screw her eyes shut – anything that'll save her from the coming blaze. But she can't move. Can't break the ice holding her in place. And she's left to watch, immobile, uneasy, as her funeral pyre approaches, a tail of flames rising up behind it.
Three seconds.
That's all it takes. All the time it takes for Phoenix to reach her and sail straight through her chest, the world turning to ash around her.
Crack.
Elena wakes violently, eyes blinded by harsh light, ears deafened by thunderous noise, heaving down gulp after gulp of air like it'd douse the wildfire burning in her chest.
It doesn't.
The conflagration continues, consumes her, spreading from her breast outward, dragging agony along with it.
She wants to scream. Wants to give up. Return to her frozen state and just let it all go. And not even the prospect of regaining her lost family could change that. But then there's a small pop, a soft clattering, and as suddenly as it came on, her purgatory is gone, her torment has passed, and the Elena that's left behind is one renewed. Reinvigorated.
Reborn.
Or, at least, that's what she tells herself as she peels her crusty eyes open and gives in to sensory overload. Rich, vibrant colors not diluted in the earlier greys. Cool, fresh, albeit recycled air, that she continues to gasp down in some feeble attempt to calm her racing nerves. And loud, jarring clashes that she had originally thought to be her death knell, but that she now recognizes as the shrill blaring of an alarm mixed cacophonously with the harsh clanging of metal upon metal.
Overwhelming proof that she was still alive.
So overwhelming, that she can't handle it all at once. She whimpers and curls in on herself, pressing a shaky, tentative hand to her breast. The hole in her dress shirt is easy enough to find, and yet it's the slightly raised, unmarred skin underneath it that does it for her. That has her clutching her shirt tightly and choking on a sob. She'd almost died.
"Sir," a voice crackles to life in Elena's ear. Something that's so sudden, so unexpected, that she nearly screeches. At least until she remembers the bugs she had set in place on the Turk floor. "I've got a visual on Director Scarlet, sir. She's heading for the lobby."
"Shotgun. Two Guns." The President wastes no time. "Once you've dealt with the machines on your end, you are to go after Scarlet. Find out where she's heading."
"Yes, sir."
"Make no mistake – Scarlet will pay for her crimes. But the safety of everyone in this Tower takes top priority. Is that understood?"
"Sir! Yes, sir!"
Damn.
Right.
No time to rest, Elena thinks as she takes a deep breath and starts the slow, painful, arduous process of pushing herself off of the damp floor. A process made all the more difficult by the sight waiting for her on the other side of her now open eyes (when had she closed them again?).
One, while the bullet in her chest had been removed (and now lay, intact, on the floor), there was still one lodged firmly in her arm (her gun arm, Gaia dammit Scarlet).
Two, her PHS and everything in it were very much destroyed. Once again, courtesy of Scarlet and her damn meddling.
Three, apparently, she had been lying in a pool of her own blood and not some random puddle of water like, for some inexplicable reason, she had believed.
And worst of all, four, floating in said pool were several turquoise-colored shards.
No.
She lifts a trembling hand to her ear and finds, just as she had feared, that the earrings Reno and Rude had given her were destroyed. Broken, just like her promise to stay outta trouble, yo.
Why hadn't she saved up for a bulletproof vest?
Gun is the real Turk. We don't need her sister anymore.
Maybe everybody was right. Maybe she really was nothing more than a failure.
"She's alive!" somebody gasps, before Elena can decide whether it wouldn't be better to just give up and cry like she's half tempted to. "Gun, your sister, she's alive!"
"She is?" her sister shouts back. But it's the President's smooth (and in no way relieved) voice that stops Elena's breath in her chest.
"Gun. If you see an opening, go for it."
"Yes, sir!" her sister says, the sound of gunfire faint in the background. "I swear, once I get my hands on her… Honestly, what was she thinking?!"
For the first time in her life, Elena finds that she agrees with her sister – what in the world was she thinking? Give up? Cry? Over some broken jewelry? She was a Turk, for Gaia's sake! Whether or not anybody else wanted to accept it. And as such, she couldn't let Scarlet get away. Couldn't let her failures define her. For they weren't a bug. They were a feature. One that would only make her stronger and allow her to rise above the rest.
Rise above her sister.
And with her box of aspirations cracked open again, Elena decides she'll do just that.
She'll show them what she's really made of.
Honestly, Elena grumbles to herself as she dashes further down the hallway and past another giant mech head on display (as long as it doesn't move, she won't scream).
She knew SOLDIERs were notoriously thick-headed (and she is including the 1sts in that one too), but had they really planned on brute-forcing their way through that swarm of machines? Had they honestly expected to still have time to catch up to Scarlet that way?
Gaia's sake.
But whatever. It's fine. She had helped them out ("Destroy its exhaust fan, hit it with Fire, and Rude's your uncle!"), cleared her conscience, and had then been able to plot her own escape.
Of course, it had still taken a couple minutes of careful planning, several reassurances that she would be fine, Kunsel, I know what I'm doing, and a last-moment request that they meet her in the lobby once they were done fighting (just in case), but she was finally out. She was finally free to chase after Scarlet.
And it was her last chance, too. Her PHS was destroyed and her witness was dead (why he had tried to return to Scarlet after escaping, Elena would never know).
So this was it.
She couldn't screw up again.
And she definitely couldn't be caught before she reached her prize. If she was, she'd lose all chance of putting Scarlet in her place. And then the only thing she would get would be a massive earful all the way home.
What on all of Gaia were you thinking?!
You're not a Turk!
Too young! Too young! Too young!
Elena shakes her head and dispels the naysaying voices. She is a Turk and she does know what she's doing. They might not see it yet, but she'd show them.
"Sir!" Nunchaku, or whatever the hell his name is, yells into her damn ear. "Gun's sister has run off on her own!"
"Elena!" she growls to thin air. "My name is Elena!" Not Gun's sister, damn it all!
But nobody can hear her, and instead Tseng sighs, "Of course she has." It's different, though. So unlike her nightmare. This Tseng's voice – oh, his voice – holds only a fond (she hopes) exasperation, nothing like that earlier cruel dismissal.
She can't help herself.
Her heart skips a beat. She always had loved that smooth timbre.
Among other things.
Her sister, though, doesn't share her same fascination. Not with Tseng, at least. "Where is she?"
"On the other end of the floor, coming your way." Elena falters to a stop – how was her sister this close already? Hadn't Scarlet locked down the entire floor? Ugh, it doesn't matter, she decides. Regardless of the answer, she needs a way out now. "Hang a right at the next corridor." C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, she tells herself, her eyes scanning the hallway for something – anything – that would get her out of this mess. "Then a left." Technically, she could probably just baseball slide her way past her sister (she was rather short now), but it would be so much more amazing if she could make it past unseen. "And then she's straight ahead."
Elena's eyes land on the air ducts she had used to get down here and she lets a smirk cross over her face.
"Got it." She and her sister say in tandem.
If it's a game of hide and seek they want, it's a game they'll get.
"Pick up, pick up, pick up," Zack mumbles as he paces up and down the cave floor, his PHS pressed to his ear. He knows Cloud is supposed to be ok – Angeal had said as much – but Zack needs to hear his voice. "C'mon, Spike," he practically begs, leaving Angeal to his punishment – he means, leaving him to take care of the cleanup.
"Hi, this is Cloud Strife. I'm not available—"
Zack growls and nearly flings the PHS across the room. He should be glad he hadn't tried talking to the recording again (for the third time now), but this was ridiculous. Angeal said he was ok, right?
Right?
"Pu—" Angeal starts, but cuts himself off with a sigh, a slightly pinched look on his face. "Zack, try Sephiroth instead. Cloud's phone might have been destroyed in all of the commotion today."
It's a good suggestion. A really good suggestion, if Zack's being honest. One that has him smiling, wide and bright, and yelling, "You're brilliant, 'geal!", regardless of how angry he still wants to be. Whatever. It doesn't matter. He's got more important things to worry about, like making sure he presses all the right numbers – …7-3-7-4. Got it! "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."
Click.
"Cloud's alive," is the first thing Sephiroth says, straight and to the point as usual, and Zack loves him for it. "We're on our way back to the Tower now."
"Woof!"
"Oh, thank goodness," Zack breathes, all of his earlier tension bleeding away. "So, he's ok then?"
"He's injured, if that's what you're asking. But he will survive."
"Survive, Sephiroth?" Zack groans. "Really? Have you never heard of the term 'bedside manner' before?"
"…I thought that only applied to doctors with their patients?" Sephiroth sounds unsure, and Zack wants to bang his head against the cavern wall. Or bring Hojo back to life just so he can kill him himself. But before he can really consider the consequences of doing just that, Sephiroth speaks up again, quieter this time, and completely redirects Zack's attention. "It's Zack… Do you want to talk to him?"
"Woof!"
"Not you, Darkstar. Didn't you try to bite Zackary's butt the last time?"
"Can you blame the mutt, though?" Genesis's voice is just audible over the thwump-thwump of the helicopter. "He probably thought it was a chew toy."
"Hey!" Zack splutters. "Who asked you, Genesis?"
"As noisy as ever, I see, Puppy."
Zack growls – probably not helping the whole Puppy thing, but he doesn't really care. "Aww, is somebody cranky they missed bath time today?" he mocks back, and across the cave, Angeal sighs.
"Just you wait—"
"Genesis… Stop picking on him…" another, tired voice scolds. "And Zack… Stop letting him rile you up…"
Zack feels properly chastised for all of two seconds. And then he remembers. "Spikey!" he yells, louder than he probably should, but he'll happily deal with Angeal's lectures about using his inside voice later. Or… well… he'll begrudgingly tolerate them, at least. Maybe. Probably. Ok, he'll try. "Boy am I glad to hear your voice!"
"'s good t' heaw yew too," Cloud slurs, and a frown starts to form on Zack's face.
"You ok there, buddy? That's quite the lisp you've got."
"Great deductive reasoning, Puppy."
"Genesis," Sephiroth criticizes this time. "Didn't you say you were going to help Cloud's roommates?"
"As if I can't multitask."
Cloud, however, ignores their peanut gallery, and Zack is happy to follow suit. "I'm fine. I'm just fuckin' cold…"
"Cold…?" Zack asks, not entirely following – it was summer, and summers in Midgar were anything but cold. (Not to mention that Genesis's mumbled "Cold, he says…" is a good enough sign that Zack isn't getting the entire story.)
"Genesis cast Blizzard on Cloud to numb the pain."
"Oh, good, good." Zack nods along for a moment, but then Sephiroth's words finally catch up to him. "Wait. What do you mean, 'numb the pain'? How bad is it?"
"Zack, it's ok… I'm fine…" Cloud reassures him.
Zack knows well enough by now not to listen.
"Nuh-uh-uh-uh. I have it on good authority that you'll still act like everything's ok even after taking a beating from Sephiroth." Sephiroth and Cloud both splutter, Darkstar barks again, and Genesis sighs, but Zack doesn't have it in him to apologize. "So, how bad is it really?"
"Not that bad… I promise… Genesis just couldn't heal everything all at once…"
"Now see," Zack explains, his free hand curling into a fist at his side. "That's the definition of bad…"
"I'm fine," Cloud insists, and Zack is tempted to tear his hair out – he had forgotten just how stubborn his friend could be.
"Numerous fractures, a severe concussion," Sephiroth picks up, despite Cloud's desperate attempts to shut him up. And as the list goes on, Zack can feel his frown growing deeper and deeper. "He will require hospitalization, but Genesis has already handled the worst of his injuries."
"He certainly didn't make it easy."
"Shit, Spike… I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you."
"Oh, don't you—" Cloud starts, but Sephiroth cuts him off.
"The fault lies with me, Zackary, and me alone," Sephiroth self-flagellates, another lash of the whip in his obsessive need to take responsibility for everything, like when he had 'protected' Zack from Heidegger's mutiny (yeah, Zack hadn't missed that, though for Sephiroth's sake, he had pretended like he had). And, honestly? Zack has had enough. He tries to argue, and (not?) surprisingly, Cloud does too, if his offended grunt is anything to go by. Unfortunately, it doesn't matter. Sephiroth talks right over them. "Don't worry. I won't leave Cloud's side again. If anybody tries to touch him without his express permission, I will deal with them personally."
"Here we go again…" Genesis mutters.
"…S-Sephiroth!"
"What? You're in no condition to fend off assailants by yourself right now."
"That's n-not the point!"
"Oh… well, then what is the point?"
Zack chuckles. "You two would make the weirdest married couple."
"I was wrong. Apparently, things can get worse…"
Nobody hears Genesis, though.
"Z-Zack! You're not helping!"
"Woof?"
"I agree, Zackary. Cloud is a child."
"Hey!"
"Woof! Woof!"
"Hush, puppy."
"Sorry, sorry. I take it back," Zack says, though it takes him far too long to realize Sephiroth wasn't actually talking to him (too many Puppies). He's not ashamed, though. He's far more focused on the fact that Cloud's injuries must not be life-threatening if he's arguing this much. Maybe. Probably. He thinks.
Gah, whatever. He's relieved. That's it. That's all.
"I apologize. Cloud is an adult in a ch—I mean, teenager's body."
"Better…"
"Goddess, I should have stayed in the slums. At least then I could have set somebody on fire."
Zack's relieved, and getting better at tuning Genesis's sass out, but he can't brush away the feeling that something is off here. "Y'know, Sephiroth, I didn't realize it before, but you and Cloud sound awfully close."
"The PHS is on speaker," Sephiroth provides unhelpfully, and Zack does tug at his hair this time.
"Yeah, I figured that one out by myself! I just mean, Genesis is all kinds of muffled, but it sounds like you and Cloud are sitting next to each other!"
"Oh… Cloud is in—"
"I've decided to give Sephiroth a chance!" Cloud yells over him, his voice tenser than usual.
And Zack has known Cloud long enough to realize his friend is hiding something. There's something going on here, he knows it. But he decides (with a great deal of silent effort) that Cloud's tolerance of Sephiroth takes precedence. They were just starting to get along, and Zack refuses to do or say anything that could ruin that. "I'm glad to hear it, bud!" he says instead, and files his curiosity away for another day.
It's hard.
Really hard.
He's not known for his patience. But for Cloud, he'll do his best. (Besides, he can just needle the information out of Sephiroth the next time he gets him alone. Yup. Great plan, Zack.)
It has him thinking, though. If Cloud can make amends with Sephiroth after everything Sephiroth had done (willingly or not), then why couldn't Zack make amends with Angeal?
So when he hangs up the phone, he tells Angeal, before he can think better of it, "You can call me Puppy again." It's not what Angeal expects, Zack can tell, not with the surprise that washes over him. And Zack hurries to add, "Don't think you're off the hook, though. I'm still mad at you." He doesn't want Angeal thinking it's ok to lie to him, but he stops short of rescinding the offer – all of that Zack, Zack, Zack was starting to grate on his nerves. That wasn't the Angeal he knew.
"Of course… Puppy," Angeal says, his lips twitching.
"Director Scarlet!"
"A word, please!"
Elena can't believe her luck. She was certain she would have to scour the plate for Scarlet. Was half convinced (afraid) that that witch had already gotten away. But no. There she was. Still in the lobby, surrounded by a swarm of reporters.
"Move." Scarlet shoves past the first of the mob – a young man in a burgundy cap – and continues on for another three steps, unimpeded, before the swarm crowds in again, tape recorders, microphones, and cameras all at the ready.
"Please, just a moment of your time!"
"Are the rumors true?"
"What is your involvement in all of this?"
Scarlet sighs and turns to address the reporters, one hand on her hip. "All trains into and throughout Midgar have been temporarily shut down for emergency maintenance. The situation is under control—" her hand moves to hover over her (black) heart – "and the people of our fair city can rest assured that there is no threat to life nor property. We are currently in the process of evaluating each and every repair against the company's stringent safety guidelines and will be resuming normal operations momentarily."
Elena breathes deep, still surprised that she has the ability to do so, and smooths out her (bloody) suit. Well, this is it, she tells herself and takes that first step down the stairs.
Time for her big reveal.
"Scarlet! That's far enough!"
Every soul in the lobby turns her way, even Scarlet. Especially Scarlet. And Elena can tell the moment the witch recognizes her, for irritation twists into disbelief, rage, and then feigned pity. "Oh, you poor child! What happened to you?"
As if you don't already know, she nearly scoffs. But she'll give credit where credit's due – Scarlet was certainly an expert in the art of manipulation. Attempting to cast doubt on anything Elena says by highlighting her young age, while at the same time winning herself some brownie points by being oh-so-sympathetic.
Too bad for her, Elena already has the high ground and has no intention of giving it up anytime soon.
"Don't change the subject!" she orders as she comes to a stop at the bottom of the staircase, her gun trained preemptively on Scarlet's face. "You're under arrest for the abduction and attempted murder of Cadet Cloud Strife!"
A hush falls over the crowd, but it's only the calm before the storm. A shutter clicks, and then another, and then all hell breaks loose.
"Where is Cloud now?"
"Is he ok?"
"What do you have to say for yourself, Director?"
Scarlet doesn't answer them directly. She tuts, loud enough for the entire crowd to hear, and lays on the sympathy card hard. "I'm afraid the blood loss has gone to your head, you poor thing. You really should sit down."
"I'm perfectly fine!"
"Then you should know you can't make serious accusations like that without proof. I could have you charged with slander."
"Oh, I do have proof," Elena informs her, relishing the scowl that Scarlet doesn't quite hide fast enough. "And I posted it all over the moogle-net."
Click.
Click. Click.
Click.
"That was you?"
"How did you find out?"
"Does Sephiroth know about this?"
Scarlet looks ready to deny the accusations again, to blame everything on Elena's overactive imagination, but then she hears it. The TV in the corner of the lobby, and what was currently being played on it – "…It was all Director Scarlet's idea, I swear! Banora, the trains, everything!"
The temperature in the room drops. "…What."
Elena sighs pityingly, playing up her superiority for the crowd. "You didn't honestly believe I was foolish enough to confront you without first making a copy of the receipts, did you?" Scarlet twitches, but Elena's ready for it this time—
Bang!
—and fires a warning shot into Scarlet's hand before the witch can finish reaching for her gun. "Nuh-uh-uh," she taunts, loud enough to be heard over the gasping of the reporters. "You'll find, Scar-let, that I won't fall for the same trick twice. It's over."
"It is, isn't it?" Scarlet concedes, though Elena can tell, from the storm brewing behind her eyes, that she's not sincere. She still has a plot up her sleeve (skirt?). "I'll come quietly this time," she promises, her injured hand falling innocuously to her side, to the slit in her dress.
"Choose your next move wisely, Scarlet," a new voice rings throughout the hall, and Elena sucks in a harsh breath. The President was here. "For it may be your last."
"Y'know, I should have realized something was up the moment you said 'sweetheart'. I don't think I've ever seen you go on a date before."
"About that…"
The look on Zack's face can only be classified as one of horror. "…Please tell me Rufus isn't actually your lover."
Angeal sighs. "No, of course not, Puppy. It's just that…"
.
.
.
"GENESIS?!"
Something weird was going on. Kunsel's sure of it. Had been for a while now, too – ever since Cloud appeared out of the woodworks and stole everybody's attention away.
Don't get him wrong, he's not jealous. Not really. He wouldn't want to be Sephiroth's student himself, not with how intimidating the man (and his fan club) could be. And he would never want to do anything to hurt Zack, he loves the guy (in a totally platonic, you're my bro sort of way). But he just can't wrap his head around how close the two had gotten. Heck, Kunsel had never even heard of Cloud before and then, all of a sudden, he's Zack's best friend?
C'mon, now.
And don't even get him started on the oddities surrounding Heidegger's insurrection. He had, perhaps incorrectly, pegged Cloud as the kind of guy who didn't go looking for trouble; who didn't exactly need Sephiroth to hold his hand, but at the same time didn't really know how to get around on his own. And yet, in the span of an hour, he had worked his way past all of security, killed Heidegger, and found their elusive intruder.
All by himself.
(Sure, that wasn't the official story, but people talk. And Kunsel listens.)
And those eyes.
Gaia. Those eyes. Those weren't the eyes of a typical 14-year-old cadet. Those were the eyes of somebody who had seen war.
Just like Zack. Just like the miserable girl next to him.
"You ok?" he asks her (Elena, he reminds himself. "Please escort Elena to the medical wing," the President had ordered).
"I…" Elena swallows, a little noisily (or perhaps Kunsel's hearing is just that sensitive), her eyes glued to the floor of the elevator. "How do you convince somebody you're not as young as they think you are?"
It's not all that surprising, her question, what with her clear desire to prove herself and the anger (concern?) Kunsel had heard in the President's voice – "We will talk about this later, Elena." He just doesn't have a good answer for her. "…Can't say I know," is what he finally settles on.
"…Yeah, same." She doesn't sound all that surprised, but Kunsel can tell it's not the answer she was hoping for.
And he feels a little bad about it. "If you do figure it out, let me know."
She turns to look at him, shocked, confused, and not a little bit unsure. Stands there for a few moments, her mouth hanging open, like she hadn't been fully prepared for this particular turn in the conversation. And then, just as he starts to see understanding (and hope?) dawn on her face, she drops her eyes back to the floor. "…Ok."
She's smiling now, though. A little, at least. So even though Kunsel has no idea what just happened, he doesn't think he's done anything wrong. Probably. Hopefully. "…C-Cool," he says, his voice hitching a little.
Ugh, what was wrong with him? Why couldn't he act like a normal person around pretty girls? Especially when they looked like death themselves?
Luckily for him, though, Elena doesn't seem to notice. Or care. And he forces himself to focus on the floor numbers as the elevator ascends – 13, 14, 15 – while he tries to get his jittering heart back under control. It was just one smile, for goodness sake!
One smile, after she had shown just how far she was willing to go to get what she wants. Confronting Scarlet alone, nearly dying, and then acting like none of it had ever happened, even with that makeshift tourniquet wrapped around her arm. And to top it all off, she had then whacked her injured arm over and over again – to stay awake? – all while claiming that I know what I'm doing, Kunsel and if I don't catch Scarlet now, I can kiss all thoughts of being a Turk goodbye!
In all honesty, he should be scared of her. Or concerned. Or at least not still thinking about how cute of a smile she has.
24.
25.
26.
Wait.
Now that he thinks about it, her behavior has been pretty weird. Just like when she had used the term older models to talk about Scarlet's latest and greatest invention – "The problem with these older models is they overheat really easily!"
Huh.
Same eyes as Cloud. Same baffling knowledge as Zack.
He might not have figured out what "Rude's your uncle!" means yet, but he knows one thing for sure now. If he wants answers, Elena has them.
So, he takes a deep, steadying breath, and turns back her way (don't be weird this time, Kunsel!). "Hey, can I ask you a question?"
"Huh…?" she mumbles, and Kunsel only has one second to dwell on how lethargic she sounds before dull eyes land on his.
"Shit!" he yells and jumps across the elevator, catching her just before she falls. "You ok?"
She doesn't answer, though. Not right away. She stares up at him, uncomprehending, unmoving, as the elevator continues to rise. "Wha…?" she asks, and Kunsel kicks himself for not realizing she had only been running on adrenaline.
"C'mon," he says and bends to pick her up.
And gets a hand to the face for his trouble.
"What are you doing?" Elena shoves him away, fire back in her eyes and a light blush on her face. "I'm fine."
"Fine? You look like a dead person walking!"
"I'm fine!" she repeats, stomping her foot for emphasis. It's overshadowed by the fact that she nearly falls again, but she catches herself at the last moment and swats his reaching hands away. "I know what I'm doing!"
"So you've said! And yet, here you are, about to fall on your ass!"
"I don't need you help!"
"Ugh, whatever! Have it your way!"
33.
34.
35.
Silence lasts for all of three seconds. And then Elena's yelling at him again. "Why does everybody think I'm nothing more than a failure?!"
And suddenly, it all makes sense. Elena isn't mad at him. Not really. She's still trying to prove herself, even now. Even here, when Kunsel is the only person around to see. "Y'know," he says, his anger fading away. Replaced instead with a big dose of sympathy. "The way I see it, you're the one who caught Scarlet single-handedly. Doesn't sound like you're nothing more than a failure to me."
It doesn't console her.
"I almost died," she scoffs, her hands curling into fists at her side. "Some Turk I turned out to be." Her back is ramrod straight, she doesn't sway, but Kunsel watches her out of the corner of his eye just in case.
"Sure, you almost died." He doesn't contradict her, but he doesn't dismiss her either. He just wants her to smile again. No. That's not right. He wants her to be happy again. "But I'm sure the look on Scarlet's face must have been priceless when she realized you were still alive."
Elena snorts. "She wasn't happy," she admits.
And Kunsel exaggerates his disappointed sigh. Only a little, though. "Aw man! I can't believe I missed it!"
"You… You can probably find it online," Elena tells him, that small smile on her face again. (Kunsel decides he really does like the look on her.) "There were reporters everywhere."
He smirks back at her. "Excellent."
Ding.
Kunsel jerks away from cute smiles and twinkling eyes to find that they had reached their destination. "You ready?" he asks her, pointing a thumb in the direction of the opening elevator doors.
She grimaces, takes a careful step forward, and sways dangerously on her feet.
Kunsel's at her side in a moment. "Let me help."
"I'm not weak," she complains and tries to shove him away again.
But Kunsel doesn't budge. Not this time. He stands there, his arms holding her upright, and says, "You don't have anything to prove to me. I've already seen what you can do."
"I…"
She wobbles, even in his arms, and Kunsel discovers he's not afraid to beg. "Please, let me help you."
And he waits. Waits for her to think it over. Waits for her to make the decision herself, even as the elevator doors close behind them. "…O-Ok."
When Kunsel finally sets foot in the infirmary, Elena safely in his arms, everything is quiet. No bloodthirsty machines, no clamoring reporters, no screeching directors. It's quite the change of pace from the past couple hours, but he decides he much prefers it to the cacophony that was Scarlet's office. Heck, he'd take anything over being molested by a cougar, only to then have to fend off giant machines of death just for turning her down.
"Do… Do I really look that bad?"
Kunsel very nearly misses the question, quiet as Elena is (which was surprising given his hearing and the fact that she was so close). But miss it, he does not, and he once again finds himself at a loss for words. "Uh…"
"…That bad?"
Kunsel grimaces, but doesn't deny it. "Do you want the truth?"
Elena groans. "Reno and Rude are gonna kill me…"
It's a sudden epiphany, that the Rude of "Rude's your uncle!" must be a person, but it's one he files away for later. He's far more focused on hurrying to the front desk and getting Elena the care she needs. "We need a doctor!"
Elena wraps a hand around his harness strap, though she doesn't look up. "Don't…" She stops herself, shakes her head, and, after a short beat, lets her hand slowly fall away. "…Nevermind."
Kunsel thinks he understands anyway. "I'm not going anywhere."
Those hopeful eyes meet his again. "…Thanks."
"You got it."
"If you ever tell Zack about this, I'll kill you in your sleep."
"…Noted."
In hindsight, Cloud probably shouldn't have threatened to kill Sephiroth. This time, at least. But all of this being kidnapped, then rescued, and then carted out of that warehouse like some damsel in distress had been embarrassing enough. He really didn't want Zack finding out that he had spent the entire helicopter ride back to the Tower in Sephiroth's lap.
Sure, he knows the back of the helicopter was already taken up by his roommates and Genesis, and there was only the one passenger seat for him and Sephiroth (and Darkstar hovering at their elbows). Not to mention that he couldn't really sit upright by himself, not while the helicopter was in motion, but still. What was his life becoming?
Gaia.
And now he feels bad about it.
Though whether it was because of his relief at seeing Sephiroth again at being rescued, or the ease with which Sephiroth had accepted his threat (like Cloud had every right to kill him)… well, Cloud doesn't know. He just feels bad about it.
Ding.
"We're almost there, Cloud," Sephiroth says as he strides into the elevator, Cloud cradled to his chest like some sort of priceless treasure.
"And it's about time too." Genesis sweeps in after them, pressing the button for the infirmary with more flourish than absolutely necessary. No… Wait. This was Genesis. It was 100% necessary. "If the stench of the slums ever washes out at this rate, it certainly won't be a moment too soon."
Colin and Logan look comically small next to them, hunched over and painfully silent as they are. Garrett still hasn't budged an inch from his spot within Vincent's arms. And Darkstar remains glued to Sephiroth's side. But it's Sephiroth who holds Cloud's attention. Whose silent acceptance just stirs up all of Cloud's nagging guilt, dragging a strange desire for reconciliation along with it.
"Hey, Sephiroth…" he mumbles, the words I'm sorry bouncing about, rent-free, in his head. He opens his mouth, fully intent on saying the words out loud too – he doesn't want to Chocobo out now. But he makes the mistake of looking away from the numbers counting down on the elevator panel, and the apology dies in his throat.
There was no judgement in Sephiroth's eyes. Concern? Yes. Tenderness? Maybe? He's not sure. But no judgment. None whatsoever.
And Cloud doesn't know what to make of it.
So he stares.
Sephiroth's mouth creases into a frown, his head tilts to the side, and something about the slits to his eyes just reminds Cloud of something.
He just can't put his finger on what.
"Cloud, are you ok?"
The slits widen a fraction, and suddenly Cloud sees it.
"Hey there, Biggums, Reggie, Smalls… Brought a new friend to meet you!"
"You look like a cat…" he breathes, and immediately wishes he hadn't.
Vincent's lips quirk upwards, Genesis sighs, exasperated, and Cloud is half tempted to jump off of the plate and end his misery right now. If he had the ability to do so, of course. But Sephiroth's hands tighten instinctively around him, the frown on his face far more confused than anything else. "Uh… Thank you?" Sephiroth asks, and Cloud counts 4 people who must be questioning his sanity. And that was only because Vincent had already come to a conclusion on that same topic years ago, Garrett was too busy being unconscious, and Darkstar would side with him on anything. So, all in all, Cloud's odds didn't look that great.
Fantastic.
"Wait… I meant…"
Ding.
He doesn't get the chance to do any damage control, though. Doesn't find a way to tender that apology or properly thank Sephiroth for everything he had done (regardless of how mean Cloud had been to him). For the moment the elevator doors slide open, that chance is gone for good.
"Oh, Cloud, thank goodness!" Reeve is the first to step forward, but unfortunately his presence isn't nearly enough to distract Cloud from the disturbing white of the lobby walls, the painful glow of the fluorescent lighting, and the nauseating sight of the medical personnel at Rufus's elbow.
Just breathe, Cloud. Breathe. You can do this. Just breathe.
"You had us worried!"
Happy thoughts, he reminds himself, and takes one last shaky breath for good luck. "Sorry, Reeve…" he says through clenched teeth, hoping to Gaia below he wouldn't sob and give himself away. You're supposed to be better than this, idiot. They're counting on you. Suck it up already and stop acting like such a failure.
Reeve smiles sadly, but Cloud's acting skills must still be up to par, cause nobody questions him. Darkstar announces their arrival ("Ruff!"), Rufus commends him for a job well done ("Good boy."), and Genesis goes gliding past, Cloud no longer the highlight of the show (hallelujah). "Quite the welcoming committee you've assembled for us, Mr. President," Genesis drawls, and Cloud's known the man long enough, he thinks, to recognize when Genesis has a bone to pick with somebody.
Though, honestly, who doesn't have a bone to pick with Rufus?
"I couldn't let you have all the fun, now could I?" Rufus shoots back, his trademark smirk ever present.
Tseng makes no noise next to him. Neither do the nurses, the doctor, or the awe-struck receptionist behind the front desk. And Genesis's unimpressed snort is all the more noticeable because of it. "You should have joined us in the slums then."
"And get my jacket all dirty? No, thank you."
Genesis pauses, taking his time to look Rufus over from the tip of his oil-streaked hair to the soles of his scuffed dress shoes, and Cloud can only imagine the sneer on the man's face – Rufus wasn't exactly the paragon of immaculacy right now. "And yet, you still look like you went a couple of rounds through Scarlet's gauntlet of fun."
Rufus waves a hand, unconcerned. "We had a few setbacks of our own here. But don't worry, they were only minor inconveniences."
Genesis scoffs. "I have offered thee many silent sacrifices over the years, Mr. President—" Rufus's eyes twinkle at his use of the word 'silent' – "but worrying about your well-being has never been one of them."
"Excellent."
Sephiroth walks them closer, probably to report (unnecessarily) that his mission was a success. But then, Cloud takes in the sight of Rufus's stained outfit, his splotchy face, and even though he's half convinced that it's all part of a cunning ruse to show the public Rufus wouldn't hesitate to fight for them, Cloud can't help himself. "You look like shit."
"Cactuar calling the Ho-chu green," Rufus returns just as easily, a single raised eyebrow the only reward Cloud gets for his insolence. "Though, I am curious – how often do you plan on needing to be rescued? Every week? Every other week? I might save myself the trouble and have a tracking device affixed to your person."
Cloud prickles at the thought, but he doesn't give Rufus the satisfaction of seeing him all riled up. "Aww, Rufus, were you worried about me?" he coos instead, praying to every deity he knows that his lisp (Wufus, for fuck's sake) isn't noticeable. "How cute."
Rufus's right eye twitches, but there's no change to that porcelain mask, no teasing remark, and Cloud thinks he might be in the clear. "Well, I see they didn't beat that terrible sense of humor out of you."
"Regret rolling out the red carpet now?" R's are by far the hardest, but Cloud makes do the only way he knows how – by forcing his way through.
"For you? Never. Though, I do have one request."
The others – the starry-eyed receptionist, most of all – watch their banter like it's the next best sitcom, and Cloud sighs harshly. "Let me guess," he says, unimpressed, flashbacks of his earlier conversation with Sephiroth coming to mind. "I'm not allowed to leave the Tower without 'parental supervision'."
"No, not at all." Rufus pauses for effect, but Cloud really doesn't see it coming. "Say 'General Sephiroth' for me."
"Fuck you!" (Duck yew!)
Rufus laughs.
Omake – They Find Out
"Hey, Tifa! Wait up!"
Tifa doesn't wait. She hastens her pace, hoping she can make it home before Kale realizes she's ignoring him on purpose. It's terribly rude of her, she knows, but there are only a handful of things she wants to do right now – eat, take a hot bath, rest her aching muscles – and being scolded for making a boy cry, for telling him his name isn't actually unique, his parents were just in the middle of a health craze definitely isn't one of them.
She had tried to be patient with him, too. Had listened to him swear up and down the street that he and Cloud were the best of friends and Cloud would totally back him up, y'know. But her patience was running thin. And as it stands, she's pretty sure she wouldn't lose a wink of sleep if Sephiroth decided to kill him again.
Huh. That grumpiness was all Cid. (Is what she tells herself.)
"Tifa!"
Honestly, it was always the same thing, everywhere she went. Every age she happened to be. Little boys vying for her attention, asking if she wouldn't like to go someplace quiet with them, even when it was glaringly obvious that she only ever had eyes for one person in particular.
When she still only has eyes for him.
"Tif—!"
Tifa yanks her front door open and slips inside before that last syllable can be heard. Shuts out the world and leans her head up against smooth wood, breathing in the scent of fresh stain while she tries to collect herself.
It was a mutual breakup, she knows. But she can't help but wonder, even now, if things couldn't have turned out differently. If they couldn't have made it work – somehow, someway – if Cloud had only been a little more open and Tifa a little more understanding.
She chuckles wryly and lets her hand fall from the doorknob to hang limply at her side. No, that was never in the cards for her. She's seen the way Cloud looks at Sephiroth, and she knows, deep down, that he had never looked at her that way before.
Which was probably why she was so angry with all of the attention the two of them were getting. Why she wanted to cling to her hatred for Sephiroth and never let go.
Because regardless of everything Sephiroth had done, willingly or not, Cloud still looked at him the way Rude used to look at Tifa. The way Rude still looks at Tifa, though she knows he sees her for the woman she used to be rather than the child she is now.
Tifa sighs and finally turns away from the door – bath now, melancholy later – and promptly stumbles over her own two feet.
Rude. He…?
Oh.
"Oh my…" she breathes and fans her hot face.
She had heard he had had a crush on her. Supposedly. But she didn't think… She didn't know…
"Huh. Red's a good look on you."
And she had flirted with him.
She hadn't meant anything by it, really. She had just been so upset because of everything happening between Cloud and Sephiroth. Had just wanted to feel something, honestly, other than the rage. The misery. The overwhelming emptiness. So, she had joked. And laughed at the look that had plastered itself across Rude's face.
But now what?
Sure, she has only ever had eyes for Cloud, but she's not blind. She knows Rude is good-looking. And tall. And rather skilled with his hands.
Punching! She means he's good at punching!
"Tifa! Time for dinner!" her dad yells, and she takes the out for what it is.
"Com—!" she flushes. "I-I'll be right there!"
And she buries all thoughts of strong hands, expressive eyes, and surprisingly attractive stubble down as deep as she can manage. Now was not the time for that.
"Can you set the table, please?" her dad asks as she enters the kitchen, and she happily hides her flaming face behind the plates she pulls from the cupboard.
"You got it, dad," she says and almost – almost – walks past the small TV sitting on the counter. The one her dad is about to turn off. "No, stop!" she yells and pulls the plates away from her face. Was that Elena? "Turn it up!"
"Tifa, wha—"
"Turn it up!"
She almost snatches the remote out of his hand, but her dad finally does as told. And not a moment too soon.
"Don't change the subject! You're under arrest for the abduction and attempted murder of Cadet Cloud Strife!"
"One Fire Fang chicken sandwich and a glass of water coming right up!" Aerith says with a smile, though she keeps the you're gonna regret it to herself. She had tried to warn the man that his sandwich would pair better with milk or Banora White apple juice, but he had been determined not to listen – "I'm not a child, girl."
He would learn his lesson soon enough – it wasn't the hottest sandwich in the slums for nothing.
Silly plate dweller.
She returns to the café counter with a skip in her step and an almost vindictive smile on her lips, collecting empty plates and giving Mr. Fluffers extra pets along the way – "You look especially fluffy today, Mr. Fluffers!" (The cat was fond of handouts and Aerith was fond of giving them.)
"Need one Fire Fang sandwich, Mrs. H!" Aerith lets her partner in crime know, and turns the volume on the radio up—
"Don't change the subject! You're under arrest for the abduction and attempted murder of Cadet Cloud Strife!"
—and almost wishes she hadn't.
"…attempted murder of Cadet Cloud Strife!"
"AARRROOOOOOO!"
Nanaki had told himself that when the time came, he wouldn't cry for his friends. Mourn them, sure. Honor their memory, most definitely. But he wouldn't cry, not when he was the son of brave Seto.
He cries for Cloud. Howls for him, until his throat is sore, his eyes sting, and he finally notices the hand running soothingly down his mane.
"Grandfather… C-Cloud… Cloud is…"
"Alive," his grandfather finishes for him, hovering higher to scratch his head. (His grandfather always did know how to calm him down, even when he was nigh inconsolable. Ever since his mother's death.) "That young lady said attempted murder," he explains slowly. "Meaning that our young friend is still alive."
Nanaki doesn't know whether to gasp or to let his hind leg start thumping on the ground. He settles for a bit of both. "Then, he's ok?"
Grandfather hums. "Injured, probably. But Cloud is a strong one. He'll be better in no time." He raises a hand to his chin, in thought. "Though, it might be a good idea to give him that protection charm you've been working on."
Nanaki yowls, distressed. "But I haven't finished it yet!"
"Ho ho ho! Cid just left Wutai, yes? Then by my calculations, you have at least another few hours before he gets here."
Nanaki is off, racing up the stairs before his grandfather can finish.
"Ho ho ho!"
Cid slaps the radio off with a growl. Damn kids always gettin' into trouble! Couldn't he get a moment of rest ever? What was he, a goddamn ferry service?
Shiva's tits. He had plans with Shera, for fuck's sake. Plans that included watchin' her writhe underneath him while she begged for more.
Damn.
At this rate, he'll hafta settle for a phone call and his hand again tonight. For the tenth shitty day in a row.
"Gonna wrap that boy in bubble wrap!" he decides and snatches his phone off of the console. He'd hafta call Barret first. That oaf took twice as long to get ready as Tifa.
"Cid, wh—"
But Cid's never cared about good social graces. "Oi, Barret! Ya better be packed and ready to go by the time I get there! Else you'll be walkin' all the way to Midgar by yerself!"
"The hell are you on about? I just got home!"
"Just got home? I dropped ya off ages ago!"
"I was helping Mr. Lockhart stain his front door!" is Barret's excuse.
And Cid's sure there's a joke in there somewhere, but he's too damned pissed off to think of it. "That's not my problem! Now, d'ya wanna see Cloud or not?"
"Whaddya mean see Cloud? We just saw him a week ago!"
Fuck's sake. "Turn on the TV, ya dumbass!"
It takes a moment, but he knows Barret's finally on the same damn page as him when his aggravated grumblin' turns to silence. Dead silence. Idiot's mouth must be hangin' open like a goddamn goldfish again, too. (Sometimes Cid swears he's the only adult outta the lot of them. Vincent slept half his life away in a fuckin' coffin and Reeve still plays with dolls, so neither of them count.)
"Yo, Gaia to Barret!" he yells through the phone. (If the dolt was here, he'd totally be snappin' his fingers in his face.) "Anybody home?"
Barret snorts himself back to the present. (Disgusting.) "Shit! Cloud's—"
"A damn troublemaker!" Cid finishes for him. "Yeah, I know! Now, why dontcha do us all a favor and get packin'!" And Cid hangs up the phone before Barret can decide he needs his damn hand held for him the entire time. Cid has more important things to do. Like makin' sure that brat hadn't snuck onta his ship again before flyin' all the way back to Midgar!
(Though, he reminds himself he'll hafta buy Shera somethin' shiny to make up for bein' late again. Maybe that new 3d printer she'd had her eyes on.)
"Who's your sister now?!"
It's the oddest battle cry Godo has ever heard, but as long as Yuffie isn't bawling inconsolably anymore, he doesn't really care. He writes it off as the aftermath of a stressful few weeks and settles down to observe the spar instead.
And what a curious spar it is.
He had been concerned, naturally, by Yuffie's rather visceral reaction to young Sonon's "Heya, Boss" (something he would be investigating later, of course), but now that she's recovered, he doesn't miss how skilled his daughter has become. How skilled young Sonon is, even though this was supposedly the first time the 12-year-old had set foot in the dojo.
"I'm not a kid!" Yuffie yells, another strange allegation, and launches herself at the boy. She punches, and Sonon easily blocks the attack. Kicks at him. Sonon dodges. Jumps high in the air, prepared to take him down from on high, but Sonon merely catches her as she falls and tosses her gently away, like she weighed nothing more than a scale from Leviathan's blessed back. Like they had done this same thing a million times before.
Very curious indeed.
"My Lord."
Godo turns to his advisor and mentally adds this spar to the list of puzzling events he needs to look into. His daughter may think otherwise, but he's no idiot. He can tell when something (more than just his daughter's eccentricities) is going on. He'll have to have a word with her and young Sonon later. "Speak."
"There are reports out of Midgar…"
.
.
.
Godo frowns – at the news his advisor brings him and the sight of Yuffie sobbing on young Sonon, pounding her little fists, weakly, against his chest ("I'm not your sister, ya jerk!").
One who chases after two Mus won't catch even one.
His investigations into Yuffie's behavior will just have to wait. "Send a missive to President Rufus. Offer him all the aid we can give."
"Yes, My Lord."
Godo looks to Yuffie. To Sonon awkwardly patting her back ("I'm sorry, Boss. I'm sorry…"). And he leans closer to his advisor. "And increase the guard in the city. I don't want Yuffie racing back to Midgar once she hears the news."
Claudia doesn't faint when she hears the news. But it is a close thing.
She does know one thing for sure, though, as she scrolls through that man's fanclub. She doesn't like the way he looks at her son.
It was about time she traveled to Midgar.
It was about time she confronted Sephiroth for herself.
A/N:
- Revival earrings are supposed to bring you back with 1/4 of your max HP, hence why Elena was so weak once the adrenaline wore off. Also, I think in the game, it's just shown as a bright light or maybe little miniature angels that revive you, but I thought it was more impactful for her to see Phoenix instead.
- The last 4 digits of Seph's phone number (7374) spell out "SEPH" if you look at a number pad
- From what I can tell, Healen Lodge is roughly 100 miles away from Midgar, which is why Rufus hears himself "a hundred miles away"
- Elena hunched over and saying "This isn't real" over and over again was a nod to Spirited Away, where Chihiro is in a similar position, repeating "It's just a dream"
- "Return to her frozen state and just let it all go" - I feel like this one should be pretty self-explanatory. (Sorry to those who are tired of Frozen/Let It Go jokes XD)
- Rufus's "Choose your next move wisely, Scarlet. For it may be your last." was a play on a similar phrase from the movie Ever After
- "Cactuar calling the Ho-Chu green" is a twist on "pot calling the kettle black"
