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Chapter Text

I

It became clear rather quickly to Yew that the hierarchy at Shinra was the life and blood of the company. The President was at the top, followed by his son Rufus, who barely possessed more control than the senior most officials at Shinra – and below all of the twisted captains and managers and officials, was Yew. It was only by some sort of miracle that she was placed in the care of Director Tuesti, perhaps the only employee at Shinra not possessed by his own greed and lust for power. But her respite under the Director was short, and her hard work hadn’t gone unnoticed – the Vice President needed a conscientious and devoted secretary to be by his side at all times, and Yew was the perfect candidate.

The tension in the air is almost palpable when Yew and Rufus arrive to the meeting, the other senior officials there sending harsh and critical glares towards Rufus, barely sparing a glance at Yew. Rufus holds his head high, ignores them as he sits in one of the only two high-backed chairs on the table, snaps his icy blue gaze to Yew as he watches her slip into the smaller, less elegant chair beside his. She only just manages to set the stack of papers in her arms down on the table without them slipping out of her grip and onto the floor; but despite her organization of them, she already knows that none of the information Rufus had her gather for this meeting will be put to any use. It’s merely for show, to flaunt to the other secretaries and assistants that his secretary is more diligent with her work than any of them ever could be.

The President hums from where he sits on his wooden throne on the opposite side of the room, hands clasped in front of him, elbows resting firmly on the table as he observes Rufus and Yew with a calculating glare. “Just on time, Rufus.”

“As always.”

The President harrumphs this time, casts his gaze to Heidegger. The salt-and-pepper haired man straightens to attention like a dog waiting for a command from his master. The command comes in the form of a lazy wave of the President’s hand, Heidegger immediately clearing his throat as he regards the table with smug eyes, undoubtedly drunk on this temporary power over his equals. But his attention quickly snaps back to the President.

“We have identified several of the main perpetrators within Avalanche. They’re registered within our system and we already have guards stationed in the slums to arrest them; of course we have other means of capturing them should it be required, sir.”

The hairs on the back of Yew’s neck stand to attention at the underlying meaning of his words, a strangely familiar uneasiness washing over her as she observes each of the director’s faces. Her breath catches in her throat when her blue orbs land on Professor Hojo, the oily black talons of fear clawing at her insides, forcing her to once more divert her gaze. The words on the papers don’t seem to form coherent sentences anymore, the pride in her work disappearing in an instant, replaced with anxiety and helplessness. She presses her lips together, tries to shake off the feeling as Rufus begins to talk, his deep voice reverberating within her core.

“And have any of them actually been caught?”

There’s a short, deafening silence that echoes around the room, pounds at Yew’s eardrums as Heidegger turns his attention to Ruufs. She feels like shrinking, even though the harshness in his eyes isn’t focused on her, but she keeps her chest puffed out, shoulders tense with the effort of maintaining the air of professionalism.

“No, sir, they haven’t.”

“Why?”

Heidegger seems stumped for an answer to Rufus’ question, swallows roughly and looks towards the President. However, the last person he’d receive help from is the President, and instead of an explanation to help cover him, Heidegger is met with an arched brow, prompting him to answer Rufus’s question. His face seems to blanch as he turns back to Rufus, mouth opening and closing like a lost fish, before he shifts in his seat and clears his throat once more.

“We’ve been unable to specify the exact location of their base of operations.”

“I’ll have my own men on it,” Rufus says, and his tone tells the room that he’s made his decision.

“Shinra will still position men within the slums,” the President adds. “They’ll be flushed out in an efficient way.”

Rufus’ word may be final, but the President’s word is law.

“Yew.”

Rufus stands from his chair, the scrape of its legs against the floor almost deafening, makes Yew start in her own seat. He’s stalking out of the room before Yew can even rise to her own feet, the pregnant pause filling the room with awkward tension as she collects her papers in her arms, fighting to keep them in her grip. Her eyes briefly meet the President’s, but she turns and scuttles after Rufus before he can communicate anything to her.

II

“You were unsuccessful?”

There’s a pause, none of the three seeming willing to speak.

“Afraid so boss.”

Reno takes the plunge.

Rufus hums, leans back in his seat as he intertwines his fingers contemplatively.

“But Sector Seven has been euthanized?”

The words send unpleasant shivers down Yew’s spine, and her shoulders tense uncomfortably as she recalls the images broadcasted across Midgar just earlier that evening. The smoke, fire, screams for help and ginormous blocks of concrete sticking out of the ground like great statues of gods. The Shinra building had been in utter chaos, protestors flooding the building as the Urban Development Department dealt with the rehoming of those who survived. It unsettled Yew, to see such misery, such familiar distress, all beneath her feet. There was no way of telling whether they had been successful in ending Avalanche, no telling if the members had in fact been silenced like they had hoped.

Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockhart.

Two of the names at the very top of the list.

Even more familiar than the horror of destruction that came with the drop of the Sector Seven plate.

Her memories were foggy at best, pictures of people and places at random intervals of time - never quite forming anything that she could use as leverage. A tall water tower, dead plant life and wooden homes. Maybe even something that could be described as a friendship.

But it was about as meaningful as a dream to her now, fragments of a life she’s not entirely sure if she lived.

Shinra was her life now, as was Rufus.

“Yes sir. And the Ancient has been repossessed.” Tseng seems to hesitate for a moment, as if withholding a fragment of information. Rufus is quick to pick up on it too, waves his hand for Tseng to continue. “We do, however, have reason to believe that if they survived, Avalanche will attempt to free the Ancient.”

Rufus hums, rubs his forefinger and thumb together contemplatively. “Even if they do, they won’t get far.”

The threat behind his words is thinly veiled, in fact, is clear and crisp. Make sure that the Avalanche members can’t even make it inside the building – ensure their swift execution. They’ve been the annoying bug that Shinra couldn’t quite seem to swat, but Rufus intends to see the end of it for once and for all.

“Thank you, Tseng.”

“Sir.”

The Turks linger for a moment longer, before turning on their heels and walking out of Rufus’ office, Rude and Reno covered in bandages and nasty burns, Tseng looking the picture of composure as ever. When the door closes, Rufus sighs, stands from his chair and walks to the large windowed-wall behind his desk. He looks over Sectors One and Two like a god, his fists clenched at his sides as he observes the tranquility of the day. But Yew knows better – Yew knows that there’s likely panic and distress over the Sector Seven plate drop, the question of whether their plate was next, angry protests as people evacuate Sector Eight out of fear. The civil unrest can’t touch them up here in the sky, the qualms of everyday people are pittance.

“Yew.”

She straightens herself from where she sits, studies the back of Rufus’ head as he claps his hands behind his back and rubs his fore finger and thumb together once more. The silence that follows is tense, and she waits patiently for him to continue, can’t shake the feeling that there’s something amiss causing his lingering silence. He turns abruptly, saunters towards her, gaze locked firmly on hers, paralysing her in place.

“I believe everything is playing into our hands.”

“Ours? Sir?”

He stares down his nose at her, carefully studies the features of her face, the hesitance and slight fear behind her eyes. She seemed almost vulnerable, the uncertainty of what was to come consuming her thoughts and actions. Guilt festers in the pit of Rufus’ stomach, the look reminding him of when she was first removed from Hojo’s lab – he’d been naive at the time, didn’t know the true extent of the experiments performed on her – but he soon learned.

Was it wrong to now see himself as her savior? As her protector? As the one tasked to shield her memories from her?

That’s what one in love with someone would do, right?

But was it really love? This foreign feeling that had been slowly but surely intensifying as each day went by. Is this what love was truly all about?

“Shinra will be reformed soon.”

III

“You alright back there?”

“Fine.”

The chopper swerves sharply to the right, and Yew tightens her grip on her seat, averting her gaze from the small window beside it. It jerks violently as Reno starts to fire at the perpetrators on the helipad, but his groan of annoyance indicates that he was unable to hit any of the targets. Rude turns the chopper again, and Yew braves a peak out of the window, watches as Rufus battles the blond haired figure.

Cloud Strife.

The name had always been familiar, and now she can pinpoint it. Cloud Strife, the blond haired boy Tifa had had a crush on back in Nibelheim. He was the only boy in the village who hadn’t spared her his attention, preferring to keep to himself in the wastelands than join in with their games and adventures, despite all of Tifa’s efforts to include him. Even after all this time, she was still embroiled in the chaos that followed him.

“Going in.”

The command comes ten seconds too late, and Yew is unable to contain the gasp that slips past her lips as the chopper plummets towards the helipad, before swerving violently away from it. The door opens, the force of the wind pushing Yew against the other side, her hair blowing wildly and slapping against her face as Rufus effortlessly pulls himself in. As soon as the door is slammed closed, her hair falls, strands of it tickling against her face uncomfortably. Rufus slides his guns back in their holsters, fumbles with his suit for a moment, the erratic swerves of the chopper barely seeming to faze him.

Their eyes meet for the briefest moment, before his rake across her face slowly. The corners of his lips tilt upwards ever so slightly, and despite how small it is, the smile makes her heart skip a beat in her chest.

“Apologies.”

“No, it’s fine.”

He sits beside her, gaze still locked on her, a hand reaching out to brush a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. His eyes lock onto hers, her heart stopping for just a moment as butterflies flutter inside her stomach. He nods, snapping his attention to where Reno and Rude sit awkwardly in the front, Reno’s eyes quickly diverting away from the mirror and back out over Midgar.

“Land back at the helipad. They’ll be gone by now.”

IV

It’s more of a shock to Yew to see the President dead in the center of a tirade of destruction than it is to Rufus. He barely spares his father more than a second of attention before ordering Yew to call for an emergency medical team – and to be safe too. She hesitates for the briefest of moments, wonders whether or not she should ask how heis, but the darkness in his face tells her that he’s certainly not in the mood for conversing. The medical team leave almost as quickly as they arrive, but their stretcher now has a large lump covered by a red-stained white blanket atop of it.

Tseng enters as they leave, and despite all of her efforts at straining her ears, she can’t hear the conversation between the two as she waits outside. When they emerge, Rufus is frowning, looking around with hesitance and curiosity. His gaze snaps to Yew, and he steps towards her abruptly, grasping her wrist and tugging her into him. Her free hand lands on his chest to steady herself, eyes shutting with the immediate force of the action, before snapping open with surprise as he stares intensely at where she stood. She follows his gaze, but nothing reveals itself, and when she turns to him again, he’s studying her carefully.

“Are you injured?”

“Injured? Sir, what are you talking about?”

His brow furrows, and he looks back to where she had been standing, as if he had seen something neither her nor Tseng had seen. His fingers gently dance against the skin of her cheek, her skin heating up at the tenderness of the action. He squeezes her wrist briefly, shuffling around her and passing her off to Tseng as he begins to walk forwards again.

“Stay close to Tseng.”

He leads them through the hall, down several flights of stairs, onto the large balcony of the welcoming hall. He slowly rakes his gaze over the room, lips slightly parted and brow still furrowed with confusion.

“What are they?”

The two peer around, exchanging their own looks of confusion as Rufus continues to walk.

“Sir? Are you alright?”

Her question hangs in the air, left to sit in the ever increasing tension, unanswered. Rufus pauses, turns back to the two, studies them both as if expecting them to laugh boisterously and reveal they’re playing a trick on him. But neither of them say anything to allude to that, instead they stare back at him blankly, bewildered by his behavior.

“You can’t see them?”

“See what, sir?

He recoils ever so slightly, as if he still wasn’t entirely expecting her response to be that. He shakes his head, dismissing his actions and behavior swiftly.

“Never mind.”

V

Rufus is still disturbed by the events that had transpired the next day. He’s distracted from the moment he arrives in the office, barely acknowledges Yew and her report on what had happened since he had left the night prior. She knows he isn’t listening, studies the way he circles his father’s office chair as she recites the report word for word without a single mistake. She pauses when he pulls the chair back, the sound of it rolling against the floor almost deafening in the large room.

When he sits, he seems almost unsure of this new position, but it doesn’t take him long to straighten himself and resume the place comfortably. His eyes meet hers, and she’s struck by the intensity of it, the dominance and power behind it.

“Mister President?”

“Rufus.”

She starts.

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“You’re my most trusted confidant, Yew. I believe it’s only fair to call your equal by their name.”

Her mouth parts ever so slightly, and she anxiously adjusts a strand of hair behind her ear. “Equal, sir?”

He lifts his hand, beckons her closer with his forefinger, and she walks to the front of his desk, starts to walk around it when he moves his desk chair to the side, gesturing with his hand for her to stand beside him. He stares up at her when she stops beside him, leaning against the desk to shorten the height difference between them. There’s a pregnant pause as he continues to study her, drinking in each and every one of her features – all of her perfections and imperfections, every blemish and wrinkle to her skin. His heartbeat starts to feel irregular, and he sucks in a breath as he attempts to regain his composure.

Her own heart thuds erratically, her skin growing hotter by the second as she waits for him to speak. It was undeniable that the Vice President, or now the President, was one of the most handsome men in all of Midgar. A man fawned over in gossip magazines, gossip magazines that also displayed her own picture on the front page, hovering by Rufus’ side with the headlines ‘Secret Sweetheart?!’ and ‘Mr & Mrs Shinra?’.

For a moment she fears that another phony news article has been released, and that somehow Rufus has come to realise the feelings for him she had spent so much time trying to hide. But there’s an uncertainty behind his eyes, a doubt that peers out from behind the walls that he usually has up and fortified around other people. Although, had Rufus ever truly hid his emotions from her? How many times had she seen his anger after he had spent a three hour meeting calm and collected; how many times had he seen the annoyance at himself when he had made a mistake, even if it had ultimately been out of his control; how many times had she seen that brief glimpse of childlike vulnerability when his father had dismissed his ideas?

“Yes, equal.”

Yew hesitates, looks around the room anxiously, before meeting his eyes once more.

“I’m not sure what you mean… Rufus.”

He stands unexpectedly, Yew flinching and letting her eyelids flutter closed.

A gentle caress to her cheek prompts her to open her eyes. Rufus is mere millimeters away, their noses brushing together ever so slightly, the intensity in his eyes stunning her.

“Equal,” he reiterates. “You’ve won my affections, Yew. Love is a foreign concept to me, something I never believed I would experience. But you’re special. Unique in ways that I could have never imagined. You’re uncorrupt and just, use your intelligence and composure to spread calm throughout the world. I don’t believe there’s a bad bone in your body.”

“Rufus I –“

“You feel it too, don’t you?” There’s a desperation to his tone she’s never heard before, and her words hang off of the tip of her tongue uselessly.

He doesn’t wait to hear an answer, instead stoops in low and presses his lips against hers firmly. The scent of his cologne engulfs her, but isn’t suffocating, instead soothes her, makes her relax into the kiss. His hand slips to her chin, holding it firmly, keeps her in place as he pulls away, searching her eyes for a reaction. His search draws up nothing, and there’s a moment of uncertainty, of hesitation.

Rufus pulls away. “My apologies – I was unpro-“

Her hand latches onto his wrist, pulls him back towards her.

“Yes.”

“Pardon?”

“Yes, I feel it too.”

His heart skips a beat.

“Equals?”

His brows quirk upwards for a brief moment, the corner of his lips eventually tilting into a smile as the wrinkles smooth out again.

“Equals. I promise you that. You’re untouchable beside me.”

Chapter Text

Name: Yew

Age: 28

Name: Rufus Shinra

Age: 30