Archive of Our Own ^beta

Elena's breath formed hazy clouds in the air as they ascended further from the cave, her suit doing little to keep the cold from her bones. One hand was exposed, her fingers wrapped around the handle of the specimen case she carried and burning from the chill, whilst she tried to keep the other tucked into her sleeve. The bitter wind whipped her hair around her face and made her eyes sting, and there was nothing she wanted more than to retreat to the relative warmth of the chopper and watch the barren landscape fading away beneath her.

The ground was treacherous, icy patches threatening to send a confident footstep skidding and forcing her eyes to focus on the path to save her embarrassment. It didn't stop her from stealing glances when the mirror-slick dirt beneath her feet felt less tricky. The Director walked a little way ahead, his hands held confidently at his sides, ready for action, ready for anything, his long hair fluttering in the wind. She took full advantage of the opportunity to observe the cut of his shoulders in the black suit, and the way his torso tapered trimly south.

She held few misguided romantic notions regarding the boss anymore, though she'd naively imagined them time and time again in the years following her recruitment. Perhaps her appreciative eyes had been reciprocated once, he'd asked her out to dinner after all, but like many things involving men in Elena's life, destiny had followed a different path. Instead, she admired him from afar.

Reno liked to taunt her when his quick eyes picked up on her longing gazes and his quicker tongue voiced his thoughts on the matter, his insights often as bluntly truthful as they were unwelcome. It was just a crush, she reminded herself. Unprofessional and unrequited…

Her foot slipped on a frozen puddle and her mind reluctantly re-focused.

The earpiece in her ear sputtered. Tseng's voice, smooth as silk and only serving to add to the chills on her skin. "Reno. The chopper."

"You got it."

"The chopper…" She sighed, longing to press her numb fingers against the heating vents and defrost the blood in her veins.

Tseng looked back, eyebrow raised. "Feeling the cold?"

"No sir. I can't feel anything anymore."

He chuckled at her breezy words, eyes once again focused forwards. "Perhaps we're a little underdressed."

"Understatement of the century."

"Your feedback has been noted."

"Good."

They continued in companionable silence, the only sound their brisk footsteps on the hard ground until the purr of the chopper cut through the air overhead. The relief that coursed through her was tangible, and her step quickened. Soon she'd be warm.

The shot came from nowhere, the bullet sending shards of frozen dirt flying into the air around them.

"Down!" Tseng barked the order but she was already seeking cover, her numb fingers closing over the butt of the pistol beneath her jacket as beside her he did the same.

They slipped and skidded behind a rocky outcrop that offered some protection, and Elena settled the specimen case at her feet, freeing up both her hands to aim. "Did you see anyone?"

"No." Tseng edged out into the line of fire, frustration evident in his tone, as another bullet sent fragments of rock raining down on them. "We're blind here."

She nodded curtly. The firearm felt cold and reassuringly heavy in her hands. Her fingers tightened on the grip.

He returned to her side. "We need to keep moving."

"Reno, hurry!" she hissed into her headset.

There shouldn't have been anybody else out here, the acquisition should've been routine. Her index finger caressed the trigger as she squinted into the freezing wind, trying to lay eyes on a target she couldn't locate. The rocky structure sheltered them, but also made it impossible to see where the attack was coming from. Their craggy surroundings were full of shadows, ample opportunities for concealment.

The next shot hit far too close to home, loud as a thunderclap. Shrapnel bit at her skin, and she saw Tseng flinch out the corner of her eye. He staggered slightly as red marked the frozen ground around them. Blood.

"Reno!" she repeated into her earpiece, urgency clear in her voice before she turned her attention to the Director. "Sir?"

"It's nothing," he assured her, one hand pressed to his temple where blood seeped through his fingers. "Just a scratch."

It didn't look like a scratch, as the gore continued to drip slowly onto the ice at their feet. The pick-up was a rescue mission now, Rude's silhouette appearing in the hatch as the metal bird descended expertly through the air above them.

"What the hell is that?"

Reno's concern worried her; she ducked out from behind the rock to see three shadows seemingly materialise in the frigid air, weapons poised and rapidly bearing down on their location. Shit. She squeezed the trigger, trusting her aim, but none of them slowed. Beside her Tseng straightened up, aiming with one hand, blood running freely down his angular cheek. Their bullets were having little effect and she could see them now, the silver-haired men drawing closer, the expression in their eerily pale eyes cold and filled with loathing.

The resemblance in their narrow faces was unsettling, their shared features giving them more than a passing similarity to the man that'd almost killed them all. Elena wasn't naïve enough to chalk it up to a coincidence. The cave, their mission… It was all too neat, too easy to make the assumptions that were tumbling through her head. This was connected to him.

"Sephiroth..."

"They cannot acquire the head." Tseng picked up the case and thrust it towards her. "I'll hold them off. Get to the chopper. Nothing else matters."

"Sir?" The word caught in her throat as her mind processed the order.

"They cannot acquire it," he repeated more forcefully.

His fingers brushed the back of her hand, firm and warm, and she stared at them, her heart thudding in her chest. As her hands tightened around the specimen case he peeled away from the safety of their position and headed out into the fray.

She snapped out of it. "Tseng!"

"Elena!" Rude's voice crackled over her earpiece as the chopper touched down. "I'll cover you."

"For fuck's sake." She fired off a couple of shots indiscriminately, aiming for any silver and black leather she could find and sprinted towards the safety of the bird.

Tseng had no chance three on one, but his insistence echoed in her head. If these grey-haired freaks were anything to do with Sephiroth they absolutely couldn't get hold of the contents of the case, she knew that. The guys would agree too, but the Director was a fool if he honestly thought they'd leave him behind. Her chest burned with exertion as her feet chewed up the metres between the outcrop and the helicopter, the desire to get rid of the case in her hands spurred on harder by the need to return to his side.

True to his word, Rude stood in the open hatch with a gun in his hands, his eyebrows drawn into a frown of concentration behind his ever-present shades. She didn't dare look back, keeping her head down, willing herself not to slip on the icy ground. The noise in the air was deafening between the engines of the chopper, the gunshots, the fighting... She threw the specimen case into the hold, eyes wild, and ignored the hand Rude offered her, shaking her head as she spun on her heel.

"Cover me," she shouted, taking advantage of the brief respite to load another round of ammo into her weapon.

"Elena!"

Nothing else matters. She happened to disagree, very much so, as she headed back into the heat of the action, lungs still burning and eyes watering from the cold. But her hands were steady on her gun, the adrenaline that surged through her system giving her the edge she needed. Three on one was suicide; three on two was a much better prospect.

A medley of weapons. One man had stopped to reload the gun-blade in his hands and the Director had resorted to using his spent revolver to rain down blows on another, no time to reload. The brute he was locked in battle with was twice his size and at least a head taller. The amount of blood she could see worried her, the red standing out sharply against his monochrome appearance. She could tell that the exertion was becoming a struggle. Tseng was a skilled fighter, but his opponent's blows were heavy and ruthless, hitting true to their target more often than not. He wouldn't be able to hold the man off for much longer.

She aimed carefully and landed a glancing shot to the shoulder that distracted the man long enough for Tseng to regroup, before turning her attention to the other reloading his gun-blade, her finger pulling repeatedly on the trigger beneath it. The last thing they needed was more bullets flying; their chances were much better if they could focus their attention short-range until Reno and Rude could launch a counterattack.

The gun-blade rained sparks through the air as her bullets struck steel and caused her target to clumsily drop the weapon. Before she could take another shot the third man had broken her line of fire, his lips curled into a cruel smile as he strode towards her, the double-bladed katana in his hand glinting in the watery sunlight.

She squeezed the trigger again, predicting the hollow click that signified her luck and ammo had depleted and swung her gun at the man's head instead, forcing him to dodge out of her way. As the twin-blades slashed through the air towards her she twisted to the left and landed a sharp kick to the back of his knee that sent him staggering.

His smile widened and he tilted his head, a recognition of her skill, and she tightened her stance, fists ready. When his attack came it was frenzied, brutal, the blades hissing through the air at a speed that made deflection all-but-impossible. She blocked and dodged and weaved as best she could, trying to land a hit anywhere and failing, the strain on her limbs making her heart race in her chest. She was only half-aware of Tseng following suit at her side, his opponent showing a similar lack of mercy. Whoever these men were they highly-proficient fighters.

Too late, her attention landed on the man with the now reloaded gun-blade.

Her eyes widened in surprise, the impact sending her sprawling backwards as the bullet ripped through her jacket and shirt, the garments providing little protection. Fire blossomed through her core, the pain dulled by the fight-or-flight reflex that had taken hold of her body. She knew it was bad though, how could it be anything else?

Tseng's voice confirmed her suspicions. "Elena!"

She hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of her lungs. But her training kicked in, mind re-focusing on the mission at hand. The guys had the specimen case; that was the priority now. As Tseng staggered heavily on her peripheral, fighting to reach her, she pressed her finger weakly to her headset and threw as much authority into her words as she could muster.

"Get out!"

Sparks ricocheted from the metalwork as a stream of bullets hit the chopper, and for once in his goddamn career, Reno didn't argue. He knew just like she did where their priorities lay. Better to retreat and regroup, and trust that the Turks on the ground could handle themselves. They owed too much to the planet to allow Jenova's remains to fall into these hands; take the head to the President and return later to pick up the pieces.

They were both down now, both bleeding and unarmed. What chance did they have? There wouldn't be any pieces for the others to collect.

"Tseng…"

He moved slowly, the action laboured, dragging himself over the frozen ground to her side. The shock made her dizzy, but she didn't fail to register the cold fury in his expression. Her mind reeled; what did he expect? That she'd leave him behind? His bloody fingers closed on her wrist, his grip harsh, but all she could focus on was the warmth of his skin.

"I ordered you to the chopper." His voice was a snarl, his dark eyes narrow.

"Not without you."

Above them three shadows loomed, eclipsing the light and the voice of the man with the katana was high and cruel. "Don't think you can keep her from us for long."

She sat at her desk, staring at the screen in front of her, tapping idly at the arrow keys on her keyboard. The coffee to her left had long since gone cold. It was probably for the best; she was having enough trouble sleeping as it was without pouring caffeine into the mix, though the evening ahead promised to be a long one and her mind was already wandering. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the warm hues of the sunset were fading to inky darkness, and she checked the clock in the corner of her monitor and frowned. Time was dragging on.

"We are outta here." Reno leaned on the partition that designated her cubicle, his crimson hair even more dishevelled than usual and his shirt unbuttoned indecently low, as always. "Come on."

"I can't." She continued to tap the keys distractedly. "I've got to finish this."

"Elena," he warned.

She didn't respond.

"You're working too hard." His lips slipped into an easy smirk, his eyes catching the light as he tilted his head imploringly. "You're not on the clock anymore."

"I've got to finish this," she repeated, with a little more conviction.

"It'll still be here tomorrow," he said. "Come for a drink. Rude's paying."

"You guys carry on."

"Elena-"

"What?" She looked up from her computer then, her frustration clear in her voice. "This is your report and the Director's waiting for it. You want me to leave it?"

Reno's face turned sheepish and he ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh?"

"Drop the act."

He grinned. "I'll do it tomorrow, I swear. Come for a fucking drink."

"I've started it now, it's fine."

She'd lost at poker again, and Reno had chosen to bet his paperwork instead of money, again. It was only fair she upheld her end of the bargain. Besides, paperwork was the only thing that had turned up on her schedule in months and she'd be damned if she was going to miss an opportunity to prove she could still do her job. The Director might not think she was capable in the field but she could still earn her paycheck.

"You need to chill."

Although his tone was light there was concern in his blue eyes. Coping mechanisms were a useful accessory in this job, she'd learnt that almost as soon as she'd signed up. When Reno and Rude had followed their orders to drop the plate on Sector Seven all those years ago, they'd both struggled to deal with the fallout and then she'd been the one with the worried eyes and words of encouragement. But they'd been Turks for a lot longer than she had, and they both had their ways of coping with the darkness in their heads.

She hadn't quite worked hers out yet, almost three years in. Instead, she threw herself into her work, relying on the burning desire to be top of the class to drag her through the nightmares that haunted her, that left her skin clammy and her pulse racing. When the memories hit she would remove herself from her bed and spend hours practising her kata or poring over the files she'd snuck out of the office.

At first, nobody had questioned her late hours and tired eyes. It wasn't unusual. She'd always been keen to impress, ever since she'd first donned the trademark suit and her comrades had just taken the piss out of her and accused her of kissing ass. She'd brushed it off with sarcastic retorts and they'd fallen into the kind of easy friendship she'd struggled to find during her training, where her peers had been jealous of her high grades.

Reno and Rude didn't care that she was the Director's pet; they'd both proven their worth to the company a long time ago and weren't the kind to begrudge a fellow over-achiever. Rude appreciated her professionalism and was glad of an ally against Reno on his more irritating days, and Reno enjoyed winding her up until she threw stationery at him, an acceptable outlet for his seemingly endless supply of energy.

The Director treats them differently, the insidious voice in her head reminded her. They'd been broken too, for a time, and they hadn't been overlooked or wrapped in cotton wool. Why was she any different?

"I will. After I've filed this report."

"I could order you to leave it," he said, dangling his technical seniority over her head.

"You could try."

He shrugged, his interest in the argument waning. "Don't stay up too late."

"I won't."

"And steer clear of the boss. He's with the President."

She smiled thinly; Rufus' temper had been particularly volatile recently, another thing the Director seemed determined to shield her from. Fortunately, in this case, the guys had also fallen under his protection, and their often childish speculation as to why the President was so angry had at least served to temper some of her hard feelings, giving her back some of her sense of involvement in the team.

"Noted."

His expression softened. "Night, Rookie."

Three years on and the moniker was stuck firm. At first, it'd bothered her, but in time she'd come to recognise it as the term of endearment it was intended as. A brief yearning to follow him washed over her, to settle down in whatever sticky-floored dive they'd picked, exchanging insults and drinking warm beer. And she almost did, almost signed out of her computer and grabbed the blazer that was slung over the back of her chair…

And then she pictured her schedule, devoid of all fieldwork, barren of anything even remotely interesting, dangerous or important. Heart sinking, she turned back to her keyboard.

"Can you get the lights?"

Reno saluted lazily as he turned on his heel. Moments later the lights cut and she dimmed her monitor slightly, allowing her eyes to adjust to the comfort of the darkness and the soft white glow of the screen in front of her.

Alone with her thoughts she tried to concentrate, a futile effort that just wound her up. It wasn't a difficult report to write, even with Reno's hastily scrawled notes to decipher, it was just time-consuming. But the sentences wouldn't piece together and the words wouldn't click. The knowledge that the Director was waiting only made it worse, especially if he'd been chewed up by the President. She'd never liked to let people down, especially not her superiors.

Especially not him.

She sighed, closing her eyes, fighting the bone-gnawing desolation that threatened to wash over her. She understood what Reno was trying to do; she'd been subjected to a double-attack of sorts between him and Rude over the last couple of months, where they'd hover over her shoulder and try to get her to talk. They'd noticed that she wasn't coping so well, that she was working later and later and socialising less and less.

He hadn't noticed though, the only person that could understand what was going through her head. He just carried on, stoic as always, professional to a fault.

She'd dealt with pain before. She'd been attacked, shot at, stabbed. She'd gone without sleep, without food. She'd broken bones. She'd even been poisoned. And nothing… nothing... would ever come close to the terror those memories inspired. The sounds haunted her, cruel and organic, painful and obscene…

Watching them hurt him, knowing that the words on the tip of her tongue could've ended it, but not knowing what ending it meant… Elena's self-preservation instincts were as strong as the next Turk's but death was always a risk when you signed on with the company and she'd accepted a long time ago that her wits would often be the only thing keeping her alive. But the agony of losing him? Nothing could've prepared her for that.

The ache only worsened day by day, a heavy reminder of the camaraderie she'd lost. It'd slipped by unnoticed at first, the missions she hadn't been selected for, the times she'd been relegated to desk duty. It'd made sense during her recovery but as the months had drawn on the truth had dawned, cold and unwelcome.

He doesn't think you can do this. Her blood boiled.

These maudlin thoughts weren't helping anybody. Shaking her head slightly, as though the movement could dislodge the shitshow in her head, she returned to her report. There were rumours of unrest on the Western Continent, factions scrabbling to make a play for power thanks to the misguided belief that Rufus Shinra's days of domination were over. Domination certainly wasn't on the cards, not anymore, but they were idiots if they thought he would ever relinquish control. She slotted in the relevant info, making Reno's haphazard thoughts prettier and more professional, and began painstakingly cross-referencing them against the information they'd already gathered.

The process was slow, making her eyes heavy and her shoulders ache; a perfect distraction. She'd show him, prove that she could do this. Slowly but surely her chaotic thoughts quietened, drowned out by the repetitive work.

Tseng stood in the corridor, perfectly still, and observed the scene.

It was late, far too late for her to still be sitting at her desk and the fourth night this week he'd found her working past her hours. He hadn't challenged it, not yet, though both Reno and Rude had individually expressed concerns. They worried, he knew, seeing her as something of a little sister. Elena wasn't herself, wasn't the bright spark in the darkness she'd always been.

She wasn't the only one off-kilter. He inhaled slowly, struggling to capture the ends of his frayed patience. His temper was quicker these days, his demeanour sourer. Even Reno had backed off, choosing to bite his tongue instead of baiting him as he always had.

His meeting with the President hadn't gone well. Rufus was a shrewd leader and didn't suffer fools gladly. Whilst his temper remained largely restrained in his dealings with the others he was far more likely to show his true colours one-on-one, and Tseng had always provided a valuable ear to bend. He'd worked closely with the man for many years, and their professional relationship had made the Turks an invaluable asset rather than the perceived nuisance his father had considered them to be. Rufus wasn't unhappy about their issue in the West, he was apoplectic; how dare these fools question his authority? And Tseng had assured him, as always, that his Turks would deal with the unrest.

They should've dealt with it already. What was he paying them for? Wasn't the point of surveillance and intelligence to prevent these things from happening? And Tseng had nodded, smiling thinly, and removed himself from the suite before his anger exposed itself. He valued the President as both a commander and a friend, but that didn't make him immune to the occasional urge to thump him.

So he watched her work, her pale face illuminated softly in the halo of light from her monitor, her hair glowing white, and her warm eyes drawn into a frown as she concentrated. He could picture her fingers as they danced across her keyboard, efficient as always. Whatever she was working on, she'd have it on his desk by the time she finally left for the night. The thought left him conflicted, impressed as always by her work ethic but concerned all the same by her dogged determination to avoid life on the outside.

Sometimes it was easier, and the distraction offered by these four walls was all too readily justified. But she was working herself to the bone, anyone could see that.

He knew he should speak to her, to offer her the advice of his advanced years and service, but he struggled to find the words. He suspected that was down to his shortcomings, his inability to move forward from the nightmares that fractured his sleep and left his body tense and his mind drained. They were invariably the same, the waking nightmare he'd lived through six months prior, where he'd watched her bleed out in the snow and Kadaj had uttered the words that had broken him. I will kill her.

Tseng had faced death many times, far more than he'd ever dared count, and he'd come to terms with that. His mortality was an acceptable bargaining chip. Hers was torture for which he hadn't been prepared.

At first, her loose tongue and quick wit had offended him, her character far too similar to Reno's to pose a distraction. He'd often dealt with hot-headed recruits, and he'd quickly broken their spirits and bought them to heel. There was no question of attractiveness, Elena was certainly easy on the eyes, but Tseng had encountered beautiful women before and wasn't naïve to their charms.

No. It'd been her prowess that had caught his eye, the confidence with which she carried her weapon and the ruthlessness with which she disposed of foes twice her weight and size. Her skill was breath-taking to behold and behold it he had.

He'd asked her to dinner once, before she'd proven her mettle and earnt her permanent position on their books. It'd been a none-starter. There'd been bigger things at stake than his desire for a bedfellow, most pressingly his recovery. He still bore the scars from that encounter, resigned to a hospital bed by Sephiroth. What could've been a satisfying carnal exchange had been placed on the back-burner, where it had simmered into something far more encompassing.

He wanted her, but years of working so closely together had made those feelings wholly inappropriate and a lot more difficult to ignore. Besides, feelings were a liability, as their time on the Northern Continent had reminded him, a weakness that he couldn't afford, and the guilt still bit at him, even now.

He should've been able to protect her, should've tried harder. He was their leader, it was his duty. Instead, he'd lay impotent, forced to watch as cruel hands had almost choked the spark from her eyes. The same guilt would've wracked him over any of them, but his sentimentality towards her had only made his dereliction of duty that much more gut-wrenching. He'd failed the company, failed her.

Elena yawned widely, stretching her arms above her head, revealing shirt-sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her jacket missing. He added that to the canvas in his mind, the tailored cut of her white shirt skimming neatly over her petite frame. Before his mind wandered further she noticed him, her dark eyes widening and her lips parting slightly in surprise.

Unfazed, he tilted his head slightly, an acknowledgement of her presence. She waved uncertainly in return. He made to continue the journey to his office but something made him pause. He'd be lax in his role as their leader if he didn't challenge her presence, he reasoned. It was an excuse that made the truth of his predicament a little easier to stomach.

He thought better of it. Should she want to, she'd come to him. Feeling like a coward he walked away.

Clouds of breath in the frigid air above her; Elena tried to extend her hand to disperse them and couldn't quite reach, her arms unable to follow the simple commands as though they were coming from a long way away. Her eyes narrowed, her lips tinted blue and parted in frustration, her fingers hovering shakily inches from her chest.

Nausea rolled through her; she dropped her hands to her stomach and closed her eyes. Her heartbeat quickened. Time passed.

Weak as a kitten she lay there, the freezing ground solid at her back. A stone dug uncomfortably into her shoulder but she couldn't move. Confusion reigned, her mind unwilling to join the dots now that the initial surge of adrenaline had worn off. She suspected the blood-loss would be the deciding factor, the tentative bridge between life and death that had weakened her body and drained the colour from her skin.

She'd been shot, but that was the least of their problems. They'd dragged the pair of them further into the crater, back down to the cave and taken the Director away. She didn't know how long it'd been but she'd heard enough for her blood to run far colder than it already was. There'd been silence for a little while now, so she lay and she waited, and her mind began to wander as her life continued to fade.

Her eyelids grew heavy. She fought the urge to close them for as long as she was able to before she slipped into the void. Hands touching her chest jolted her awake.

"Don't move," he instructed, pinning her to the ground by her shoulders as she fought the immediate instinct to arch away from him. His grip loosened as she came to and stopped struggling. "You've lost a lot of blood."

The ache coursed through her, red hot, its epicentre lodged deep in her centre. Her words were difficult, punctuated by her erratic breathing. "I've been shot."

"Yes."

As her vision straightened out his pale face swam into focus and her sharp inhalation brought tears of pain to her eyes, "Sir?"

Tseng's lips were cracked and bloody, his handsome face heavily bruised. There was dried blood congealed in his dark hair. She wanted to reach out but her hands still wouldn't work, and his hands had resumed their work at her navel, distracting enough in her incapacitated state to force stillness.

How ridiculous, she thought as his fingers skimmed her stomach. Of all the things to focus on…

"I've done what I can to stem the bleeding," he said, voice laboured. "You require medical assistance."

"You don't look too hot yourself." She tried to smile but it faltered on her lips.

Had she not been so spaced out, the anger that flashed across his face might've burned her. "You disobeyed a direct order. Why?"

She didn't have the faculties to lie. What was the point?

"You needed me."

He didn't speak for a while after that. She closed her eyes.

When he finally broke the silence, the anger in his tone had tempered somewhat, though his voice was still cool as ever. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of movement. He carefully shucked his jacket, and his ginger movements suggested she wasn't the only one injured as he draped it over her chest. His blood-stained shirt was missing both sleeves, the seams frayed and torn.

She narrowed her eyes. "Sir?"

"Bandages," he replied. "Crude, but they will have to do."

She nodded; taking note of the lean musculature of his bare arms and the way gooseflesh prickled the skin there. "But you're cold."

"Your body is in shock. Your need is greater."

"Debatable." She fought back a yawn. "Higher chance you'll survive."

"Elena."

"I know, I know…" Her lips slipped into a grin, blood-loss leaving her giddy. "I'll try not to die."

"Good."

"Too much paperwork."

Despite the situation, he laughed. His half-smile warmed her.

"Indeed."

Seemingly satisfied with his ministrations he moved, and she caught his soft grunt of pain as he did so, the way his lips parted as he gasped. He was in worse shape than he was letting on, as he positioned himself at her feet and gently manoeuvred her ankles over his thighs. Textbook, she realised, as her mind sleepily rifled back through her training; basic first aid. Stem the bleeding, keep the patient warm, elevate the feet…

His hands came to rest gently on her shins though, his thumb tracing lazy circles across the bare skin of her ankle. She'd never seen that in any textbook, she thought fuzzily. He closed his eyes and this would almost be peaceful, she mused, if it wasn't for the fire in her gut and the nauseating way her head was spinning, or the uncomfortably hard ground she was laying on.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

She swallowed hard. "They'll come back for us… Right?"

Darkness flitted across his broken face and her heart sank.

"Stop talking," he replied. "You need to rest."

The soft knock at his door wasn't unexpected, a little over an hour after he'd passed their office. There'd been talk of keeping the department open plan when Rufus had first negotiated the blueprints for their new HQ, in keeping with their new-found spirit of openness and honesty. Tseng had disagreed vehemently; some discussions required the security of a lockable door.

Rufus had questioned why; Tseng had simply cited Reno as a reason. And so the Department of Administrative Research had risen from the ashes, and as Director he'd remained comfortably aloof in his office whilst they shared the vast space of their partitioned room down the corridor.

Their four-man team was close-knit, but Tseng missed the days when the department had been full. There would be a recruitment drive, Rufus assured him, just as soon as his negotiations with the WRO had come full term. Until then the three of them had ample space to work and he'd retained his privacy.

"Come."

He didn't look up from the report he'd been reading when the door clicked open and then carefully shut, her shoes padding across the plush carpet. Rufus had a penchant for darkly modern interiors, and Tseng hadn't felt much like disagreeing; the long windows offered sweeping views of the city below them, the expensively sleek furnishings only adding to the overall effect.

"Evening, sir."

He finished the paragraph he'd been reading before he finally acknowledged her presence. Elena stood to attention, a slim file held to her chest, her expression oddly unreadable. That concerned him, her face so often having given the game away, her animated expressions making it nigh on impossible for her to keep her cards to her chest. To see her like this now unsettled him, her skin translucent and her eyes hollow.

Had he allowed this to continue? Tseng responded to her greeting with an economical tilt of his head.

"The most up-to-date info on the Western Continent," she said, slipping the file into his in-tray. "I've cross-referenced what we had so far. I think you'll be happy."

"I'm sure I will." He glanced at the manila folder before catching her eye. "Forgive me… I thought I'd assigned this to Reno?"

Her neutral expression slipped, her eyes widening guiltily at a question he hadn't intended to fall quite so sharply. "Yes, sir."

"And yet here you are..."

"I had some time and I just thought-"

"Elena." He held a hand up in warning and she fell silent. "Do not allow him to take advantage."

"I'm not." The anger in her voice surprised him, and her eyes narrowed. "Is that all? I'd like to go home."

He pointed at the chair in front of his desk, his voice a little too stern. "Sit."

For a second he thought she was going to disobey, before she dropped into the seat, crossing her legs and folding her hands neatly in her lap. Back straight, shoulders curved back slightly, head held high; poised, defiant and ready for the dressing down she believed she was due.

"Have I authorised this overtime?"

"No, sir. I'm not on the clock. I had some work I needed to finish."

"The others have expressed… concern." He straightened the paperwork in front of him, carefully aligning it with the edge of his desk.

The others can go fuck themselves, said her expression. He waited for her response.

"With respect, sir, I'm fine," she said eventually, her voice sounding anything but, her tone verging on insubordinate.

She was usually so eager to please, and to hear her bite back now only served to pique his interest further. The joke was long-running at her expense, thrown back and forth by Reno and Rude over beers and whisky chasers, and a jibe he'd expressly forbade in her presence. Reno had often wondered aloud whether Tseng would ever make a move, his tongue loose enough already before the addition of alcohol had spurred it into delinquency. His advice had come slightly slurred, with all the grace of a blunt knife. Why don't you just fuck her already?

He forced the notion to the back of his mind. "Fine is inadequate."

Her fingers clenched. "Do you have an issue with my performance?"

"Your performance is exemplary. My issue lies elsewhere."

"I didn't know you cared." Colour had crept into her face, spots of pink high on her cheekbones.

He didn't justify her sarcastic comment with a response, the staccato tapping of his fingers on the desk enough to give away his frustration. They both knew he cared; his weakness at the crater had proven that; unforgivable in their line of work. Human.

Outside the sky had darkened, the night appearing in earnest now. He stared through her reflection in the glass, unwilling to meet the brown eyes in front of him. Instead, he watched the twinkling lights of Edge as the night-time crowd surfaced, the red and white pin-pricks of the matchbox cars below them. He'd avoided this conversation on purpose; emotions were tricky when they ran high and he preferred discipline, order. He should've let her leave, he realised, too late.

He didn't want her to.

She tilted her head slightly, catching his eye in the reflection. The atmosphere had changed between them that day in the ice when he'd abandoned his principles to save her life. Elena almost wished he hadn't, badly wanting for things to resume as they had before. Feelings were complicated and her own had always been tricky to decipher without this mess to contend with. He blamed her, she knew, her weakness had forced his hand. She shouldn't be surprised that he didn't trust her to fulfil her duties. Why wouldn't he pick those stronger and more reliable? The desire to prove herself to him cut deep, simmering away below the surface, chipping away at her need to remain professional.

She should've left, she realised, too late.

Unsure what he wanted from her, she curbed her tone slightly, voicing her excuses through dry lips. "I should be getting home. It's late."

"Of course." He looked away from the window, back to her, his expression difficult to read.

"Let me know if there's anything you want changing." Her eyes flicked to the file in his in-tray, rather than meet his gaze.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"Goodnight, sir."

Elena stood and turned, aiming to beat a hasty retreat. She was exhausted, willing to accept that she'd perhaps pushed herself too hard. Now that she had the opportunity to call him out, she couldn't find the words. There were too many feelings bubbling in her chest, too many memories. What she needed was space, space from the pitch-dark eyes that so often now avoided looking at her, from the stern expression on his face. She didn't know how to fix what had happened, nor did she have the energy to wheedle his approval out of him.

She'd almost made it to the door when he cleared his throat, his words entirely too deliberate. "Perhaps a break is in order."

The words cut her. She stopped but didn't turn back, fingers curling into fists at her sides.

"Some R&R," he continued, his voice cool. "Take a couple of days. Reno will pick up your assignments."

She spun to face him then, the movement sharp, her eyes narrowed. "You have to be working to take R&R."

If the sarcasm in her loaded statement surprised him it didn't register on his face. Here was her opening, her opportunity to voice the fear that gripped her. She inhaled slowly.

"Explain."

As though he'd thrown a match on dry tinder, her anger flared white-hot. "I'm more than capable of doing my fucking job."

"I don't recall suggesting otherwise."

"You know full well what I'm talking about."

"Working yourself to death proves nothing."

"It's all I have." She crossed the room, braced her hands against his desk with a sharp thud. "You've given me no other opportunity!"

His eyes landed on her hands, and she could see the tension in his jaw before he spoke. "What opportunities do you believe I've withheld?"

He was doing this on purpose, baiting her. Proving that she was weak, a liability, that she wasn't fit to be there. She couldn't afford to play the game; arguing with the Director would hardly help her to fight her corner. But as she stared him down she saw her fury and frustrations mirrored in his eyes. Something snapped, and the words she'd struggled to grasp moments before plummeted through her mind.

"I haven't had a field mission since the crater," she spat. "Why?"

"You're still recovering."

"You don't trust me. You think I'm weak."

His voice was dark, his words as infuriatingly elegant as always. "It's a mistake to assume you know what I think."

She wanted to shake him. "Let me do my job!"

"As you wish. I'll reassign Rude. You can take his place in Rocket Town."

Rude had been grumbling about the Rocket Town job since it'd appeared on his schedule. It was the field equivalent of being stuck behind a desk filing paperwork and Tseng knew that. The absolute bastard.

"Babysitting troops? Stop fobbing me off!"

Anger flashed across his expression before the mask slipped back into place. "Then what do you want?"

"North Corel."

The former mining town had formed the epicentre of their investigation for months, the end of the line for the funds she'd traced back through the Gold Saucer. Reno was due for dispatch and had been swaggering around since he'd been assigned the mission. Taking down the network operating there would be a feather in anyone's cap, but Reno was too cocky, too quick to react. This needed a more delicate touch, from hands that knew the situation. She'd studied those reports for months, hell, she'd written most of them.

That mission was hers. Six months ago she'd have been assigned it without question.

"No."

"Why?"

"Reno is better suited," he said.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

He straightened out his papers again. She knew the tell like the back of her hand; his frustration with the conversation was beginning to show. Perhaps she'd gone in too hard, forgotten her place. But his words were so calculated, designed to rub her up the wrong way, and whilst her temper was quick to burn it wasn't so easily abated.

"He knows the area… Has contacts that could be useful."

"I've been studying that data for six months!" She floundered. "I wrote half of Reno's reports!"

"Be that as it may-"

"At least send me with him."

"The risk is unacceptable."

"What risk?"

His fingertip stroked the papers. She longed to wrench them free of his fastidious hands, ball them up and throw them at him. She didn't believe his bullshit excuses for a second, but he wasn't giving her an inch to work with. If Tseng thought he could play her like this he was sorely mistaken, she didn't need her years of training to spot his lies.

She exhaled sharply, tried to think of something, anything, she could say to make him understand. "You can't punish me forever."

"Why would I be punishing you?"

The shift in his tone threw her; he sounded genuinely surprised. She'd failed him, hadn't she? Because of her weakness, the remnants had almost gotten their hands on Jenova. This was his chance to admonish her, to give her the dressing down she deserved and move on. She faltered, unsure of the correct response.

"Elena?"

"I let you down."

The words left her mouth with little consideration, raw and heartfelt. The flush was already rising in her face, the heat prickling at her eyes. She blinked away the tears that threatened to spill from them, irate at herself for being such a fucking idiot and even angrier at him for provoking the reaction from her. But these months had been long and difficult, trapped in limbo and not knowing where to turn, lonely and broken. She wanted him to tell her she was wrong, that she wasn't weak, that she deserved to be there.

Instead, she removed her hands from the desk and turned on her heel. "Goodnight, Tseng."

She'd barely taken two paces before he'd caught her wrist. How had he moved so goddamn fast? And her breath caught in her throat as his hands settled on her arms, his grip firm enough to stall her. Awareness of him tripped along her spine, a shiver that made her knees weak.

"You misunderstand," he said, voice low in her ear. "You could never let me down."

"Then why are you doing this?"

His weight shifted as he took a step towards her, his presence reassuringly warm at her back. "I'm trying to keep you safe."

"You can't."

Elena didn't know how her voice sounded so level, she felt as though her whole body was trembling, her suit suddenly uncomfortably hot. This didn't mean anything. He'd step away, resume his position at his desk, cast her back into the pit she couldn't climb out of. He wasn't stupid enough to jeopardise their working relationship. He wasn't her.

Tseng's lips grazed the shell of her ear and logic spiralled south. "I can try."

Rough hands under her arms held her upright, her feet dragging uselessly on the ground. She'd drop like a stone the second they let go. Fear had her heart in a vice, her pulse already hammering beneath the clammy skin of her chest and her breath coming quicker now, shallower.

She was freezing but sweating, and the burning ache in her middle was all-encompassing, serving to distract her from the myriad of other injuries they'd inflicted to no avail. She couldn't have answered their questions even if she'd wanted to, her teeth chattering as her mind wandered.

Tseng was still standing, though they'd restrained him, the larger of the trio ready and waiting in his shadow. She'd been asleep when they'd come for her, a fitful slumber made bearable by his presence, his refusal to leave her side. And he'd fought like a demon when they'd hauled her away, seemingly oblivious to their strength or numbers, or the weapons they wielded in their leather gloved hands…

The look in his eyes would stay with her. A man possessed.

Fingers clawed at her hair, wrenching her head up. She could barely focus on the slim face of the man in front of her. Feline eyes and a cruel smile…

They'd hurt her. A barrage of punches and kicks expertly levelled to cause the most damage. She knew now, as her vision blurred and her body slowly froze, that this would be how she died. Her limbs were numb, her mind slowly fading.

She'd told them nothing.

"Your pet doesn't look too good, Director. Do you think she still wants to play?"

Nausea took hold. The grip on her hair made her eyes water.

"She'll tell you nothing," said Tseng, his voice slurred through split lips.

She wouldn't. She couldn't let him down.

"I disagree. Yazoo?"

A jerk of his head, an instruction to the brute behind her. Yazoo dropped her and her knees buckled, the only thing keeping her off the floor the hand that was still fisted in her hair. Pain flared across her scalp. The other man smiled, loosened his fingers, watched her crumble.

His foot caught her under the shoulder and tipped her onto her back. The fire in her middle consumed her and she stared up at the cloudy sky, barely able to process their words over what little blood she had left to pound through her ears.

The light was too bright, the air too cold.

Pressure forced her attention elsewhere, a boot on her skull that aligned her eyes on the Director.

"You two haven't been playing fair." The voice floated over her as the force increased. "We'll have to change the rules."

The twin blades of the katana glinted dully in the low light. He twisted it idly as he spoke.

"Where's Mother?"

Her lips tried to form words, failed. Tseng wasn't watching them. His eyes were fixated on her.

"So be it."

The ache in her skull was unbearable.

"Loz."

The pain didn't come. Instead, she watched Tseng keel over as a fist connected heavily with his gut, strengthened by the gauntlet attached to his assailant's hand. His grunt of pain turned her stomach as he dropped to his knees.

The man with the katana laughed, sheathed the blade. Headed for the Director with graceful steps and dragged him to his feet. Tseng stumbled, spat. There was blood in the snow and bubbling from his lips.

"Where is Mother?"

The bones in her skull creaked under the boot that ground into them.

Loz wiped the back of his hand across his eyes before attacking again. And again. And again. Crushing blows, carefully aimed that wouldn't break bones or draw blood but could cause irreparable internal damage; damage that could easily kill a man. The tactics were simple, methods the Turks had often employed during interrogations. Simple, economical, devastating.

A fist to the ribs landed with a sickening crack and she could see by the way his chest shuddered that it was bad. It wouldn't be difficult for a broken rib to puncture a lung…

"Don't cry, Loz." The pressure against her head lessened slightly as Yazoo shifted his weight.

"I'm not."

"She is."

The third man stepped away, letting the Director collapse to the ground. She knew then just how bad it was when his hands barely tried to brace as he pitched forwards, landing heavily, blood spraying the snow as he coughed wetly. Her mind reeled. She could stop this.

Should she?

The man crouched in front of her, his slender fingers catching her jaw as the boot pinning her down relented. He tilted her head up, swiping a callous thumb across her bruised cheekbone, where the skin was wet with tears.

"You care about him," he said conversationally, inspecting the pad of his thumb. "I thought that would've been enough."

She couldn't find a response. Her heart was breaking.

"She's too far gone. Useless," said Yazoo.

"No." He smiled, feral. "Bring him here."

Loz grabbed Tseng by the arms, dragged him over the stony ground. His cry of pain cut her, his face deathly pale against the blood.

Sir...

The man moved, dropped to his knees over her limp body. Pain erupted through her stomach as his weight settled across her navel. Her lips moved, but the guttural sound that broke forth couldn't have been hers. Tseng's bound hands clenched as cruel fingers twisted through his hair, forced him to watch.

It was pointless. Didn't they realise? His eyes had sought her out already, dark and hurt.

"Director… you will tell us where Mother is, or I will kill her."

"No…" Her murmur came through cracked lips, her eyes struggling to remain focused on his face. She couldn't be the reason for their triumph.

Cold hands found her throat, squeezed hard. The pressure was quickly replaced by pain. Panic gripped her as she realised, too late, what was happening, her sluggish mind desperately forcing her to breathe. But she couldn't, and that sent her heart racing further, her eyes wide, her body finally kickstarted into action as the last of her adrenaline took over.

"Kadaj…"

The warning voice drifted past, far away, drowned out by the buzzing in her ears as darkness blurred the edge of her vision. She tried to struggle, to fight against the hands around her neck, the fire in her lungs…

"Where is Mother?"

She kicked, flailed her arms, tried to force numb fingers under the unrelenting hands as her head spun and her vision failed. The heel of her hand struck clumsily at Kadaj's face and he dodged easily, throwing more of his weight against the gunshot wound in her gut. The fire in her chest was unbearable, the dark rising quickly to claim her.

Her fingers went lax, her body falling still.

This is what dying feels like.

"Stop..."

Her body shuddered, her eyes rolling.

"Stop!"

The pressure on her neck lessened and she choked down the icy air. Her throat was raw, her limbs heavy.

"Leave her." The desperate shudder in his voice shattered her, so alien on his lips. "I'll tell you what you want to know."

I can try. The words lingered and she struggled to translate their meaning. Was that what this was? A misjudged attempt by the Director to keep her out of harm's way?

"Is that why I'm not in the field?" Elena's stare fixed on the door-handle, a good nine or ten paces away, as she forced as much professionalism into her voice as she could. Anger helped, giving her words an edge. "And don't you dare lie to me."

His hands flexed against her biceps, betraying his frustration. "Yes."

His simple answer surprised her. She'd been expecting an outright lie.

"You can't do that."

"I can do whatever I want."

The arrogance in his voice only spurred her temper on further. And she'd have rounded on him, called him out on his crap, but his hand swept high along the back of her arm to caress her neck, brushing her hair to the side and exposing her skin to the cool air. As the shiver ran through her, conscious thought fled, her entire existence hinging on those same calloused fingers as they traced the outline of the collar at her throat.

Elena froze, hypnotised, trying to make sense of the fingertips trailing her skin. The heat of his breath at her collar had her arching into him, damn the consequences.

"Sir…"

She inhaled sharply and the grip on her arm relaxed, the void behind her suggesting movement. Disappointment flooded her, rather than relief. She counted to five before she turned, forcing her expression into something more neutral, willing the heat in her cheeks to fade.

He'd settled against the edge of the desk, hands braced against it, legs stretched out in front of him. His face was largely unreadable, the only thing to betray him the tick in his jaw. She was reminded, once again, of just how well he was able to pull off the expensive tailoring, the slim cut of his suit doing absolutely nothing to soothe her libido as it sat up and begged for attention.

Elena swallowed, mouth dry, and forced herself to think. When the words came they were simple and spoken with conviction.

"You're putting me back in the field."

"Very well. Rocket Town-" His voice was uncharacteristically unsteady. She cut him off.

"If you send me to Rocket Town, I'll make your life a living hell."

The threat hung in the air between them. Tseng raised his eyebrows, head tilted slightly to one side. A challenge to her. Explain yourself.

She mimicked his expression. Make me.

Their silent stand-off left her the victor.

"I'm not sending you to North Corel," he said eventually.

"You will."

Tseng drummed his fingers lightly on the wood. "What makes you so certain?"

She imagined the whisper of his fingers against her throat, the heat of his voice in her ear. His renewed interest made her brave, and she closed the gap between them, the toes of her shoes knocking mutinously against his. A small part of her worried that this was a bad idea, that she was playing with fire and would burn for it, but it was silenced by the scent of his cologne, the touch of colour that had crept into his face. She deserved an explanation, she reasoned, and she would be damned if she was leaving without one.

"I'm the best for the job."

A slight tilt to the corner of his mouth, though it didn't travel as far as his eyes. "An accurate assessment."

"Then why send Reno?"

Tseng frowned, thrown off balance by her line of questioning. She was close enough now that he'd barely have to stretch to touch her, to fist his fingers through her silken hair or skim his thumb across the pulse at her jaw. His momentary weakness had taken him by surprise, the urge to press his mouth against the pale skin of her throat had almost consumed him. What the hell had he been thinking?

He hadn't, and he still wasn't, wanting nothing more than to put this conversation to bed and feel her melt into him once again.

Her pretty face fell. "Why won't you talk to me?"

Because he was her boss; because he didn't know what to say. Because the last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to her.

"You'll go with Reno to North Corel." The words formed of their own volition.

"Sir?"

He'd expected her to be happy, to grin triumphantly and revel in his defeat. But she didn't. Instead, her frown deepened, her dark eyes fraught. She hadn't expected him to acquiesce so readily and his clumsy attempt at severing the conversation troubled her.

"You're right. You are the best choice."

"Thank you." Her tone was flat.

"It's late. You should go home," he said. A gentle push before he did something he was only half certain he'd regret.

She reached out hesitantly and he caught her hand, his fingers interlacing with her own as though it was the most natural thing in the world. His thumb skimmed her palm and she exhaled softly, the sound doing nothing to quell the fire in his blood.

"I have nightmares," she said, so quickly the words tumbled together. An admission he hadn't expected. "Most nights. Or I can't sleep. So I work."

He nodded, staring at their hands. He knew the feeling well, the long hours staring into the darkness, to finally succumb and awaken back there. He supposed it was to be expected, that their shared trauma would also bring with it a shared torment.

"That's understandable," he replied, selecting his words with care.

"I thought…" She tripped, regrouped. "I should've been stronger. You shouldn't have had to save me."

She was giving him an opening, an opportunity to take his guilt and release it.

"I regret that you were involved."

The comment was deliberately blunt, an attempt to distract them both from the hurt that lurked below the surface. The dam had been carefully constructed but could only support the weight of one, and the turgid waters that it withheld couldn't be allowed to spill. Unwilling to open up to her, he pushed her away, correctly predicting the anger that settled on her features.

"I was doing my job," she said, gritting her teeth.

"And?"

"You have to let me, no matter the consequences."

"As you wish."

He released her hand, trying not to pay heed to the disappointment in her eyes. This wasn't a good idea and she was right, of course. He was a fool if he thought he could keep her safe. Theirs wasn't a job that accepted half measures, and his attempts at keeping her out of the field would only apply more pressure on the others. It'd been a poor decision from the start.

Her fingers hovered momentarily, her expression bereft before her eyes narrowed. When she spoke her voice was far more clipped. "Thank you, sir."

"Goodnight, Elena."

She didn't move.

Tseng watched her warily, the determination clear in the angle of her jaw, her bearing challenging him to try and dismiss her again. And as the silence stretched out between them he swore he could see the gears turning behind her eyes, the way her features tremored as she slowly began to question her decision to bait him.

Still, she remained, transfixed, and he couldn't drag his eyes away. He should've moved, taken himself behind the desk and put valuable space between them. But he couldn't bring himself to do so. This would be his undoing, he realised, a doorway he shouldn't breach, that needed to remain locked tight, yearned for from afar.

Something altered in her eyes, the hard edges fading from her expression to be replaced by something softer and he realised, too late, that he'd allowed his own to give the game away. And they were so close, close enough that all it would require to bridge the gap between them would be a single step towards her.

In his role as their leader, he was strong, unshakeable. As a man, his determination wavered.

He straightened up, his height giving him the advantage, pressed the pad of his thumb below her chin and gently tilted her face towards him. Her lips parted, her eyes fixed unashamedly on his mouth. The flush in her cheeks crept below her collar now, the blush a pretty contrast against the white of her shirt. She wanted him; the realisation as dangerous as it was intriguing.

The point of no return well and truly crossed, his expression tipped into a smirk. The rush of victory was difficult to ignore and he was unable to deny himself the satisfaction of having her yield to him. Her breath caught as his thumb skimmed lazily across her lip.

When he spoke she shivered against him, his mouth so close her felt her breath caress his skin. "Whatever will I do with you?"

She softened into him then and his hand pressed against the small of her back, pulling her closer. A moment longer, drawing out the torment, before her needy sigh broke his resolve.

His mouth found hers, working urgently and she responded in kind, one hand splayed flat against his navel, the other winding his tie through her fingers and demanding attention he'd happily bestow. He supposed it shouldn't have surprised him, as competitive as she was. His teeth tugged her bottom lip, eliciting a breathless moan that sent his blood rushing south.

Perhaps this was the answer, he realised, as the lead weight in his chest subsided. He'd shut her out for her own good and they'd both suffered as a result.

It was a long while before they broke apart, both breathing heavily. She smiled against his mouth and curled her fingers into his shirt as his hands dipped lower to explore the curves she presented. The lonely months felt shorter somehow, the warmth of his embrace chasing the nightmares away. His kisses softened the ache that weeks of uncertainty had chiselled out within her, his wandering hands serving to ignite the desire that had laid dormant for so long.

She peered up at him, eyes heavy-lidded. Wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and felt him tense against her. Her mouth split into a grin.

"I could make a few recommendations," she offered, slipping her fingers between the buttons of his shirt to trail the hard planes of his stomach.

He smiled then, dark eyes filled with heated promises, and kissed her again.