Tseng XXXI: Weakness
The next time Tseng opened his eyes, dawn had already broken and the room was dimly lit by the bluish tint of early morning. The pile of bloody clothes within view told him that his vision had cleared to the point where he was able to see farther than his fingertips. With his memory of being shot being brought back by the sight of his own blood, his hand reached for his chest to examine it. He could find nothing wrong with it, and his body was not in pain either, just very, very heavy, to the point where even lifting an arm felt like a major undertaking. The only thing that hurt was his throbbing head.
He closed his eyes again, and tried to remember how he had gotten to where he just found himself. He got shot the day before, somewhere in the tunnels under the capital. Someone must have cured him, and taken him back to his room. He opened his eyes again and strained them to examine the wall hangings. This was not his own room, and the shallow bedding he laid on was not something that would be found in a Shinra facility. He was still in Wutai, that was for certain.
He inhaled deeply, slowly turned to lay face down and gathered all of his strength to push up his upper body while trying to ignore his spinning head. The blanket slipped off, exposing his bare shoulders to the fresh morning air. He blinked a few times to fight off the darkness attempting to take possession of his body and mind. When his vision cleared after a few seconds, he looked down the front of his body. There were traces of dried blood on his chest, but it looked as if his body had been wiped. There was more blood on his pants, which he was still wearing. But there was an unusual scent, much fainter, and barely noticeable.
He managed to sit on his knees and looked around in the room. The other bed in the room was empty and untouched. He was alone. But there was another pile of clothes. White clothes, also full of blood. White clothes? There was only one person on this mission who wore white. Why were his clothes here? Tseng crawled over to the pile and pulled out Rufus's suit, which was full of blood. Why was blood on his clothes? Tseng's eyes widened as the memory of Rufus' shocked face flashed before his inner eye. Did he get shot, too?
His head turned when the bathroom door slid open and revealed the tall figure of Rufus Shinra, with wet hair and dressed halfway, his shirt still unbuttoned. He struggled to get to his feet in the presence of the Vice President, but his hectic motions made the world around him disappear in a wave of darkness and vertigo.
A firm grip around both his upper arms snapped him out of it as Rufus stopped his fall and slowly let him down on the ground. "Good, you're awake. Let's try to keep it that way." Tseng's eyes slowly opened to find Rufus' bright blue looking at him. His dry throat and cracked lips made it difficult to speak, and all he could manage was a whisper: "Are you hurt?" Rufus smiled lightly and brushed Tseng's hair back behind his hear before he pulled him closer and pressed him tightly to his chest. "No", he said. "No, I am not hurt." Tseng closed his eyes and exhaled in relief. They stayed like this for a moment while Rufus caressed the back of Tseng's hair.
"You lost a lot of blood. I'm no doctor, but I think it might take some time for you to recover. Maybe you should take it easy for today." Tseng pressed his hands against Rufus' chest weakly, and Rufus let him go. "What about the mission?", he asked. Rufus contemplated for a moment and then answered: "Don't worry about that for now. We'll figure it out." Tseng tried to object, but Rufus pulled him up slowly, with his arm around Tseng's waist. "Don't worry. We're going home today." They took a few steps toward the bathroom. "Get yourself cleaned up, then we can talk about everything else." – "Sir-", Tseng protested, but Rufus shushed as he slid open the bathroom door. "I know. I know. You're really shy. I'll be waiting outside."
After Rufus drew a bath for Tseng, he left and closed the door. Tseng struggled to get his pants off and sit in the bathtub. The heat of the water seeped into his limbs and joins and made them feel even heavier than before and most definitely heavier than they should be. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. Rufus was unhurt. That was all that mattered. But the mission was still on knife's edge. And Tuesti- His eyes flew open when Tuesti came into his mind. They had been looking for him. That was the whole reason they went into those tunnels in the first place. And they had not found him. And how did they get out of that underground passage? Who had healed Tseng? Rufus had no materia on him, so it could not have been him. Did the others find them in the underground tunnels? What about Tuesti?
Tseng cursed himself for his weakness. He should have been able to save Rufus without getting hurt to the point where he became unable to walk on his own, or remember what happened. He desperately needed a blood transfusion. It was not the first time he got hurt, not even the first time he came close to dying. But the other times, he had woken up in Shinra hospitals under medical care. But this time, they still had to finish the mission before he got to go home. There was no other choice.
As he was following these thoughts, he jumped a little as the door slid open a crack. "Sir?", he called out, hoping that Rufus would not come in. He felt ridiculous of being so ashamed when he had no problem with having sex with complete strangers, but the affection the Vice President showed him and the level of intimacy he had been driven into both made him uncomfortable, because he never knew what to expect or what Rufus' actions meant, or if they meant anything at all, and what he actually expected from Tseng. "Calm down, it's just a change of clothes", Rufus commented, and to Tseng's surprise, only his hands appeared to place a neatly folded pile of clothes on the ground, before the door closed again.
Tseng exhaled in relief. He was in no state to explain that he was not in the mood or the physical condition to fool around the way they did on the day of their arrival. They had more important things to worry about. He finished washing his body and hair as well as he could, and by the time he finished, the water had become murky with his washed-off blood. He gathered all his strength to push himself up and climb out of the tub. Sitting down on the edge, he reached for a towel and dried himself off. He still felt dirty, but it would have to do for now. The bath seemed to have helped him regain some of his strength, as he managed to put on his shirt and suit without fainting, and was glad to be fully dressed when he left the bathroom, carefully putting one foot before the other, trying not to lose balance.
When the door slid open, he found Rufus lying down fully dressed on one of the beds, reading something on his tablet. As he noticed Tseng, he put the device aside, got to his feet and closed the distance between himself and the Turk as quickly as he could. Although he did not fall this time, he leaned heavily on Rufus and allowed him to lead Tseng to the bed and sit him down. "Feel any better?", Rufus asked as he knelt down next to his subordinate. Tseng nodded weakly and immediately changed the topic: "What about Tuesti?" Rufus lightly raised his eyebrows and explained with a side glance. "He's unhurt. We found him."
Rufus smirked and took Tseng's hand. "So how do you feel? Are you up to getting under Wutai's skin?" Tseng looked up at his Vice President's face, not comprehending that the confidence written all over his face was not rooted in sarcasm. "Sir, we should tell Tuesti to buy us more time to come up with a new plan." Rufus continued to look at him with a mixture of joy and amusement, but said nothing until Tseng looked and away and continued to mumble to himself: "Avalanche being here complicates things." Getting Wutai to agree to their terms was not technically his job, but he genuinely wanted Rufus to succeed, and he could not comprehend why the Vice President was so insincere about it. Before he could continue, Rufus carefully pulled him into another embrace. "Just let me handle it." Tseng tried to protest, but Rufus continued, unfazed: "You know, there are times I just want to show my boyfriend who saved my life yesterday how cool I am. Just let me be a showoff today."
Before Tseng could say anything else, they were interrupted by the door to the hallway sliding open briskly and hitting the frame with a bang. "Yo, good morning, sleepy heads!", Reno's voice shouted from the entrance. As both of their faces turned toward the door, Reno froze for a moment, then stepped back, gently closed the sliding door, and said: "Actually, forget that. Don't mind me." Tseng slowly closed his eyes as desperation rose in him. First Sephiroth, now Reno. Sephiroth would not tell anyone because he never told anyone anything, and I cannot overemphasize how much trouble that caused during his life and after. Reno knew how to keep a secret, but that would not keep him from making hurtful comments. That, too, was frustrating at times. Because the truth sometimes hurt.
Rufus turned back to Tseng. "I don't really mind keeping the Wutaians waiting. It's not like they can start without us. But on the flip side, the earlier we get home, the sooner we can send you to a hospital." If it were just up to Tseng, he would simply lay down and sleep, but the mission had a higher priority than his personal comfort, in his own mind at least. One might think that this selfless way of thinking was naïve, considering that down the line, his services would never be appreciated to the point where his, or anyone else's life or well-being would ever enjoy priority over Shinra's wealth, fame, power, or secrecy. That was never the case in the Shinra Company, and I could name enough examples from the past, the present, and the future, to keep us busy for some time, but I am getting ahead of myself. One such example being myself, and in some way even you. I speak from personal experience when I say that it would take more than being shot once or twice or five times to sow the seeds of doubt in one's mind, but once one crossed that line, anything could happen. Perhaps a warm and kind-hearted man could turn into a monster, a boy could explore the world with his mother until they found the place their hearts yearned for. And a girl that was so afraid of the sky that she would rather spend her life living under a figurative rock than be exposed to the blue sky even just once, could one day ride an airship over the sea. Naturally, this is just one possibility out of many. But will you not agree that she might have enjoyed that, had she only been given the chance?