Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been well over a month since the argument with Sephiroth had triggered a dissociative episode, the first in years. She’d been quick to follow up with her therapist, even agreeing to a trial of medication, something she’d never consented to before.

She’d been less forthcoming with any self-incriminating details, like the blood on her hands, the state of her clothing, and where she’d been when she came to. The only one who knew those bits of information was Sephiroth. Vivian trusted him not to reveal what had happened to anyone, 

Given that weeks had passed without word of anything suspicious, she hoped she wouldn’t have to worry. Shady shit went down all the time in the city, both plateside and under, so whatever trouble she caused might have been a drop in the ocean, ripples of incidents swallowed by the chaotic waves of more nefarious crimes.

It was during an investigation that led her back to the Sector Sephiroth had found her all those weeks ago, wandering and disoriented, that led her to believe that although she had forgotten what had happened, the city and its inhabitants had not.

Chapter Text

“You’ve got some kinda nerve, showin’ your face ‘round here again.”

Vivian cocked a brow at the cashier, then went about finishing counting out enough gil to lay on the counter. She behaved as she usually did in situations like these, when mutual understanding was not yet achieved.

She kept her mouth shut and her ears open.

Her silence seemed to goad the man on, a sneer on his face. “Especially after what you did to Shacks.”

On a job, she was in street clothes, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention. Perhaps he mistook her for someone else? She really wasn’t interested in whatever else he might have to say, and yet, she’d noticed a few looks from others in the neighborhood earlier in her shift. Something was up in this Sector, and though it didn’t seem to have anything to do with her assignment, she wondered whether it might have something to do with her.

So she decided to play along, at least for a little while.

“Shacks?” She kept her tone and mannerisms nonchalant, collecting her drink and pastry with practiced ease, rolling her eyes at the nickname.

Her seemingly feigned ignorance was apparently his breaking point. He shot forward, leaning low over the counter and jabbing a finger in her face. “Don’t you fucking roll your eyes at me, you goddamn–”

Playtime over.

Swiftly, and so smoothly that a passer-by might not even notice she’d moved, she fisted a handful of hair at his crown and yanked, the man’s face slamming soundly into the wooden surface that separated them. She allowed a bit of a rebound, so that his eyes met hers, but maintained her grip.

“This Shacks, whoever the fuck they are,” she began, talking around a mouthful of danish, ignoring his cries of pain and the blood pouring from his newly broken nose, “what makes you think I won’t do the same to you?”

Whatever that was, which appeared to be rather bad, and that was knowledge enough for her.

The shopkeep breathed forcefully through parted lips, blood and spittle flying, unable to breathe through his nostrils. “You fuckin’ double-crossin’, low-life Shinra cunts. Ain’t nobody comin’ to you with nothin’ in this Sector now.”

Vivian nodded along, seemingly more interested in her snack than what he had to say. “Is that right? Well, we have our ways.”

He growled, but before he had a chance to say anything more, she jerked, smacking his head so hard that this time, when she released her hold, he only made a gurgling sound as he slid from the countertop and collapsed with a heavy thud. 

She took another bite of her danish, washed it down with a sip of her coffee, black eyes shifting to the camera in the nearest corner. She held up her disposable cup to the lens in mock salute, then sauntered out of the convenience store, lowering her sunglasses from her brow, cataloging the exchange for future reference. 

Right then, she had a job to do.

Chapter Text

Following that assignment in Sector 5, Vivian did her best to avoid traversing that neighborhood. Whatever sins its inhabitants thought she committed, it generated enough hostility to make them reckless.

Enough to threaten a Turk.

She took to doing her own private investigation into the man the cashier had mentioned, although she only had the nickname to go on. A moniker like that screamed organized crime; both the plate and the Slums had their fair share of syndicates.

After several days, her task made more arduous due to her need for stealth, she was able to locate an arrest record with a proper name and a mugshot to go with “Shacks”. Just as she suspected: he was a low-level mob associate, affiliated with the most infamous group on the plate.

That fact didn’t intimidate her in the least. Their department often collaborated with crime lords during their investigations.

That's when it clicked.

“Ain’t no one comin’ to you with info in this Sector…”

What if Shacks was an informant? 

That possibility made her worry. Veld and Tseng had put a lot of time and effort into curating lasting and highly useful relationships with various gangs throughout Midgar. She began to wonder: just what exactly had she supposedly done to him? If he was working with Tseng, the director was likely to find out.

With this in mind, she approached her inquiry with renewed vigor. The information she was seeking inadvertently fell into her lap just a few days later, during a morning meeting with Tseng.

He’d walked in late, which was unusual. She and Laney had already been waiting in his office. His countenance appeared even more severe than she was used to seeing, his movements abrupt, his tone clipped as he held a PHS to his ear. “Between that and a dead source in Sector 5, it’s been a 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 month–”

She hadn’t heard the rest, too caught up in her own thoughts and struggling to maintain a poker face. He had to be talking about Shacks. It was too much of a coincidence. She had the answers to the questions she’d been seeking: Shacks 𝘩𝘢𝘥 been working with Tseng.

And he was 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥.

The rest of the day, she scoured her memory, unable to recall being in Sector 5 or having any run-ins with Shacks. It wasn’t until that evening that she remembered the night she’d woken in an alley, disheveled and disoriented.

She’d been in Sector 5 then. Sephiroth had tracked her down, confronted her about appearance...and the blood on her hands that wasn’t hers. She had no explanation to give him because…

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘰𝘶𝘵.

Could she have actually killed this Shacks and just not remembered it? As much as she didn’t want to believe it, the more time that passed, the more convinced she became that she 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

Her new task was to make sure no one else figured it out, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 Tseng.