Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My eyes open, slowly, painfully, and are greeted by a gray floor. I lie still, staring ahead. Everything is silent. Nothing moves. The floor is cold.

Nothing moves, but I should move. Someone's after me. I don't know who, or why. I should know, but I don't. It doesn't matter now. I must move.

My gaze creeps further along the floor, until it meets an edge. A door. I climb the door with my eyes, drawn to the strange light emitted from its window. Up, past the round handle and tilted warning stripes, pausing by the metal sign just below the bright rectangle. I squint, forcing my eyes to focus. One by one, the letters enter my consciousness.

J-E-N-O-V-A

The letters mean nothing to me. The bright light hurts my eyes. I turn my head and it feels as if I'm moving through molasses. It takes so much effort. I see shapes and silhouettes around me, but little else. I stared into the brightness for too long and now it has blinded me.

I should move. I can't let them catch me.

I cry out when my side lights up with searing fire as I roll over. I must ignore it. I must move. More strangled sounds escape through my lips as I push myself up on all fours, but then I have to stop. My arms are shaking. My head aches, and feels so heavy.

Move!

There is something wrong with my eyes. The view is blurry, and the edges grow dim. It seems to be swaying, too. I press my eyes shut and take a deep breath to fight a sudden bout of nausea. I wince. Breathing hurts.

I open them again, only to find my vision is darker still. No, wait, there's someone here. A body obscures the light; a towering mass of physical darkness. I look up, craning my head to take in all of the impossibly tall figure. When my neck feels like it's about to break, the blackness retreats into two distinct blotches over a lighter-colored roundness.

It's a face, I realize. A face covered by dark glasses. I frown, confused. It doesn't make any sense. It's too dark in here for sunglasses.

"Don't move," a deep, gravelly voice rumbles. The face moves and I realize it's the one speaking the words, even if the lips appear to move out of synch. "Don't resist."

The face disappears and I am surprised to see the floor rush up against me. Then, there is nothing.

My head reverberated with a dull pounding that grew more and more insistent. I pressed my eyelids together tighter, hoping to return to blissful sleep, but it was futile. My ailing head saw to that.

I had to be alive. I didn't know how that could be possible, but a dead body doesn't feel pain. Somehow, I had survived.

Encouraged by this thought, I opened my eyes only to squeeze them shut again with a groan when light assaulted my senses and flung the headache onto a whole new level of misery. Gingerly, I tried again, blinking and squinting against the brightness.

As I attempted to take in my surroundings, the rest of my body made its discomfort known. Every muscle in my body ached; the ones in my neck responded with an intense burning when I tried to move my head. I let it loll down against my chest with a soft moan. While I waited for my eyes to adjust, I absently studied the scuffed red and black alloy plate protecting the upper half of my torso. Wherever I was, I still had my hazard suit. That was some comfort.

Once my eyes were cooperating, I gave the small room a cursory examination. Nondescript, gray walls. A simple metal table. Two chairs, equally plain. A large mirror covered most of the back wall, revealing my seated form in a third, much sturdier chair. I grimaced. My head looked as battered as my old protective suit.

As I tried to get up, I realized something else. I was tied to the chair, which, in turn, was bolted to the floor. Wide, metal straps trapped my wrists and ankles. I tested their durability, using up more and more of the suit's strength-boosting system until the servos began to whine, but it was no use. The binds were unshakable.

Don't panic. Use your head.

My hazy eyes scanned the room a second time. It looked an awful lot like an interrogation room. I turned my attention back to the large mirror on the wall and narrowed my eyes. Someone had to be behind that mirror. I was being watched.

I craned my neck and tried to twist my body around to look behind me, but an intense pain flared up in my left side. My mouth fell open in a silent scream. My chest seized, paralyzing my breathing for several agonizing seconds, and then I slumped back into the chair like a ragdoll, gasping for air.

Once I had recovered enough to be able to think again, I frowned. This was worse than mere sore muscles. Disjointed, fuzzy memories of an explosion returned to me. I remembered the strange weightlessness as I sailed through the air, then the unforgiving solidity of the ground as I landed hard; hard enough to crack the visor of my helmet, though fortunately not my skull. The suit had absorbed most of the impact, but not all of it. I must have been too high on adrenaline to notice at the time.

"Suit," I croaked, then had to stop before the tickling in my dry throat made me cough. I cleared my throat and tried again, a little alarmed by how weak my voice was. "Suit, check user status."

I closed my eyes as the electronic voice began to list my injuries, finding it difficult to pay attention to the sound.

"Warning. Vital signs critical. Head injury detected. Internal bleeding detected. Seek immediate medical attention."

I groaned. This was bad. This was very, very bad. Once again, I struggled against my binds, trying to break free.

"Warning. Power at ten percent."

Correction: the situation had just gone from very bad to worse.

Once the batteries were drained, I wouldn't be able to move, considering the state I was in. It might be impossible to even get the suit off on my own. I could feel my resolve begin to crumble along with hope. Had I really survived just so I could slowly bleed to death while strapped to a fucking chair?

Come on! Use that damned brain of yours. Start with the facts.

I was trying, I really was, but my mind was growing more and more sluggish with every second, while the facts flitted about like butterflies on a meadow. The bloody things were practically frolicking as they danced further and further away from my reach.

I had to close my eyes again as the world began to sway at the edges of my view. The physical exertion to free myself had been too much. The ache in my head took over my senses, numbing them with its steady beat, yet at the same time felt somehow duller with every second. My consciousness was slipping away, I realized. I was going to pass out again.

"Hey! Wake up!"

A male voice nearby startled me. With great effort, I forced my eyes open, but that was the best I could manage. My head was too heavy; I couldn't lift it.

There was movement in my field of vision. I thought I could make out a pair of dark boots come to a halt before me, but I couldn't be sure. It was hard to concentrate.

"Yo!" Fingers snapped a few times in front of my face. "Hey, can ya hear me?"

I tried to look up at his face, but failed. As my unfocused gaze swayed back and forth over the blurry floor in front of me, I noticed that everything moved with a slight delay, as if I was watching the world in slow motion. My head felt so heavy. It began to droop forward again.

"Shit, she's no use to us like this. Let's get some of the good stuff in her."

The voice was distant now, I could barely make out the words. A large hand grabbed my chin, tilting my face upwards. My vision was going dark, but I got the impression of a face with dark shapes covering the eyes. For some reason, the situation felt eerily familiar. Moments later a sickly sweet, cool liquid trickled down my throat. I swallowed, then coughed when the viscous fluid threatened to go the wrong way. The next second I was gasping and seizing up again, while bright hot pain squeezed my bruised ribs.

As the pain began to fade, I became aware of a tingling sensation in my stomach. It started out faint, but quickly grew stronger as it spread over my torso and down my limbs. My jaw clenched tight and my back arched again as the unusual feeling intensified into something unbearable. However, in the blink of an eye it was gone. Stranger still, it took the pain with it. I blinked repeatedly, stunned and confused. My vision was returning. My head felt clearer, too.

"Hey, you with us now?"

Now that my senses had returned, the voice was gratingly loud. Its owner was the young man who was peering at my face with a pair of bright blue eyes.

No, not quite blue. There was a greenish tint to them. Teal? Was that the word? Aquamarine, maybe?

"Yeah? You there now?"

The question interrupted the short-lived and rather embarrassing fascination with the man's unusual eye color. The dense fog had lifted, but my mind was still dazed, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. They must have given me some kind of instant pain relief, but I had never heard of oral medication with such a rapid effect.

I tried to blink away the grogginess a few times and nodded slowly, careful not to trigger the return of that awful headache. The man straightened up, allowing me to take a proper look at him. The first thing that drew my attention was the hair; a wild, spiky mess in vivid scarlet, pushed out of his eyes with the aid of a pair of goggles. Two curved lines on his cheekbones, in a red hue matching the hair, framed the outer corners of his eyes.

The redhead was wearing a dark suit, but the fact that it looked a size or two too big diminished the overall impression, not to mention the partially buttoned white shirt and lack of a tie. He was slouching with his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets, completing the laid back look.

"Right. Let's get this show on the road, eh?"

His speech matched his sloppy appearance. Despite extensive exposure to different kinds of accents and dialects over the years, I had trouble understanding his lazy pronunciation.

He sauntered over to my side, eyeing me with mild curiousity. Only now did I notice the other man in the room. The burly man had been standing still, obscured by the redhead, and hadn't said a thing as far as I could tell. Unlike the other one, this man wore his suit with impeccable style, complete with tie. His eyes were hidden by dark glasses, while the rest of his face betrayed no emotion.

I recognized him, I realized. My recent memories were hazy and I couldn't place him, but I was sure I'd seen him before.

As the brain fog receded, I became aware of the fact that I was still strapped to a chair and that these two men had made no move to free me. The confusion grew stronger.

"Get me out of this chair," I pleaded. "Please. I'm injured."

"We took care of it already," the redhead drawled with casual indifference. "It ain't perfect, but you'll be fine, yo."

He waltzed back to stand in front of me and bent forward at the hip until his face was level with mine, his hands still in his pockets. A crooked smirk appeared on his face and I felt my muscles grow tense. That wasn't a friendly smile.

"That is... You'll be fine as long as you play nice and do as you're told, darlin'. We have questions. You're gonna answer 'em."

Chapter Text

"Who are you?"

Both men had taken a seat in front of me. The bald one had his elbows on the table and his hands clasped before his face. Every now and then he would tighten his fist, as if testing the leather of his gloves, but otherwise he was still. The redhead had planted himself with less care, with his feet propped up on the table. He was the one who responded to my enquiry.

"Sweetheart, in here I'm the one who asks the questions and you do the talkin'."

My fists tightened. I didn't appreciate waking up to find myself tied to a chair, for one. Having my questions ignored, not to mention being addressed in such a manner, did nothing to improve my mood.

"No point in tryin' to break free, by the way. That chair's SOLDIER-proof, yo."

Without realizing it on a conscious level, I had begun to push against the restraints again. With a deep breath, I forced myself to relax. I needed to conserve power.

The redhead leaned back his the chair and pursed his lips. His examining gaze travelled over my suit until it came to a halt on the name tag on the left side of my chest.

"FitzEvan," he read, testing the name on his tongue. "That your name? FitzEvan?"

"Yes," was my curt reply. "I'm Dr. Therèse FitzEvan."

"A doctor, eh? The medical kind?"

"Cell biologist."

"A scientist, huh."

I was a little taken aback by the way he spoke the word "scientist". A certain kind of admiration was a more common acknowledgement, or if there was anything negative, then at worst perhaps mistrust. Never the pure distaste which this man showed.

"Yes, a scientist," I confirmed, a little uncertain. "I'm a researcher for Cobalt Industries."

I had hoped that the association would be enough to make these men think twice about keeping me incarcerated, but my employer's name evoked no visible reaction.

"Got proof of that?"

"I didn't bring my credentials," I said, resorting to sarcasm to mask my disquiet. "This wasn't a planned event."

The man laughed as he dropped his feet down on the ground and unfolded himself from the chair. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rounded the table with a swagger that spoke of both impudence and exaggerated self-assurance.

"Gettin' your sorry ass captured, ya mean? Yeah, I bet that wasn't planned."

His tone matched his body language. I felt my hackles rise, but let the gibe slide and kept my voice neutral.

"Contact my employer. Cobalt Industries, Research and Development. They will confirm who I am."

The redhead half-leaned, half-sat on the edge of the table, hands still deep in his trouser pockets. I didn't like the smile on his face.

"We might just do that. First tho', you and me and my pal Rude here," he nodded toward the bald man, "are gonna have a lil' chat."

I didn't like the sound of that, either. Until now, my most harrowing cross-examination experience had been a job interview with an abrasive interviewer. This was decidedly higher on the discomfort scale.

"Are you working with James? Does he know I'm being held in here like this?"

The man raised an eyebrow, showing no signs of recognition. "I dunno who this James dude is. Why dontcha tell us more 'bout him?"

So, I had ended up captured by a third party. Part of me was relieved. Another, rapidly growing part was beginning to suspect these guys were bigger trouble than James and his cronies. They didn't strike me as upstanding members of a law enforcement agency, that much was certain.

"What is this?" I demanded. "You can't just keep me here against my will!"

The smile widened to a humorless grin.

"Darlin," he drawled, leaning forward until his face was level with mine, "in here I can do any damn thing I please."

The soft creak of leather conveyed an understated menace as the one called Rude clenched his fist, punctuating his partner's statement.

They were threatening me. They were actually threatening me. I let out a disbelieving snort of laughter. I hadn't gotten this far by letting myself be intimidated by mere posturing.

This far. How far was this, exactly? Who were these people? Was I even in the same country anymore? I had no idea. The only clue I had was the redhead's laid-back accent and that was of no help; I couldn't place it.

The man's smirk didn't falter, nor did his piercing gaze. Did he even blink?

"Let's start with somethin' simple, babe. How d'ya get inside this building?"

A question I couldn't answer. Not only was everything related to the project classified, I was also pretty damned certain they wouldn't believe me anyway. I wasn't sure I believed it myself.

"The name is Dr. FitzEvan."

"Answer the fuckin' question. Babe."

I scoffed, but decided to just ignore the idiotic endearments. It wasn't worth it.

"Look, I'm not answering any more questions until I get some answers! Who are you people? Why are you interrogating me?"

Neither man was impressed by my outburst. The redhead glanced at his inscrutable partner with eyebrows raised in amusement before he replied.

"You're in no position to be makin' demands, Doctor. Now be a good girl and gimme some answers before you piss me off. I'm tryin' to be nice here, but let's face it. I ain't exactly known for my patience, yo."

Something malicious crept into his tone and the unflinching intensity of his stare was getting to me. A few droplets of cold sweat tickled my spine on their way down.

For the first time since I woke up in this place, my current circumstances began to sink in. I was being held captive by an unknown, but unfriendly bunch. One of the only two people who would know where to look for me was likely captured or even dead; the other was the one I had escaped in the first place.

I had made it out of the frying pan in the most incredible, miraculous way possible, only to find myself facing this fiery-haired fiend. Well done, Tess.

It would be wiser to play along for now. I swallowed my indignation and did my best to keep a composed face. Judging by my main interrogator's self-satisfied visage, I wasn't very successful.

"That's better," he crooned. "So, Fitz, how 'bout you tell ol' Reno why an armored scientist would invade Shinra all by her lonesome? That sounds more like a job for, oh I dunno, a terrorist? A pretty dumb one, too."

Shinra. Was that what who they were?

"What? I didn't 'invade' anything."

"Let's call it trespassin' on Shinra property, then. You spyin' on us?"

The situation was reaching new levels of absurdity. If I wasn't a terrorist, I was a spy? I would've laughed, but I was too drained and shaken up by everything I had just gone through to have much tolerance for this nonsense.

"Spying?" I repeated, incredulous. "Look, just let me call Cobalt Industries, or contact them yourselves. They will confirm who I am!"

"You ain't very good at givin' straight answers, huh? I warned ya. I'm losin' patience real fuckin' fast."

I exhaled sharply in frustration. How did he expect me to respond to these ludicrous allegations?

"Look, I don't understand why you're asking me all this. What do you want from me?"

"You're forgettin' the rules again, doll. I ask. You answer. Next time, I ain't gonna be nice 'bout remindin' ya."

The redhead pushed himself off the table and strolled up to my side. He was close, too close. It was a calculated move, of course, designed to put me on edge. Unfortunately, it was working. I had to put in a conscious effort to resist the urge to pull away.

"This armor of yours..." He flicked my shoulder with a fingernail, causing a dull ding. "Pretty fancy. Even talks at ya, don't it?"

Unwilling to crane my neck in order to look at his face, I instead opted to stare ahead at the blank expression of the other man sitting across from me on the other side of the table. I wasn't sure if an answer was expected, but I responded anyway, with one sharp nod.

"Looks a bit heavy-duty for a lab coat, eh?" the chattier half of the duo continued.

In the dark lenses covering his partner's eyes I could see a reflection of myself and Reno, showing a distorted view where the redhead appeared to tower over my shrunken form. I directed my gaze toward the mirror instead.

"It's a hazardous environment suit," I said with exaggerated pronunciation of the words. "Not armor."

"That so? You do a lot of work in 'hazardous environments'?"

I snorted. "Oh please."

Through the mirror, I saw the red-haired man's eyes narrow. I suppose he didn't appreciate the condescending tone.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on," I said with a strained, wry laugh. "We live in one, if you haven't noticed."

After trading a quick look with his partner – well, presumably; I couldn't see the other man's eyes behind the shades, but he moved his head a fraction in the redhead's direction – Reno tilted his head to the side and eyed me with an odd look on his face.

"A 'hazardous environment suit'," he mused after a brief pause, mimicking my enunciation of the words, "with no helmet? That don't seem like very smart design to me, yo."

"It would be a poor design for combat armor as well."

He chuckled, and I suspected he was more amused by my testy tone than my comment. The muscles in my jaw tensed.

"You seriously think this is military tech?" I asked. "This thing is bloody expensive, you know. They didn't make this just so it could get shot up on a battlefield."

"But they made one for you?"

His disdainful voice irritated me enough to lift my gaze to his face. The man was slouching with his hands in his pockets, watching me with hooded eyes and an infuriating sneer on his face.

"I guess they find me valuable," I bit out, allowing all of my aggravation to come through at last.

His smile widened and he glanced over at his partner again before speaking.

"Maybe so, but we don't, darlin'. Hand it over."

I suppose the demand didn't come as a surprise. That didn't mean I was just going to give into it. The suit was the only line of defense I had, and, judging by their interest in it, it was my only leverage, too. Both were valid, rational arguments, which I happily exploited to ratify a refusal that was fueled by a far more petty motivation. How dare he dismiss me, in the blasé tone one might expect to hear from a bored cashier at a fast food joint?

"I'd rather not. My environment seems pretty damn hazardous right now."

I managed to keep my voice even as I responded. Encouraged by this small victory, I stared up at the man in defiance. He didn't look impressed. As I watched, his face drained of all emotion and his eyes turned hard.

"I ain't givin' ya a choice, y'know."

I was startled by his voice; it had changed to something low and frightening. Reno removed his hands from his pockets; somehow, he managed to imbue that simple gesture with implied threat.

I was no longer merely ill at ease. I was afraid.

The bald man was not the more intimidating one of the two anymore, I realized. He was unreadable, but that just made him a silent, unknown quantity. The redhead, on the other hand, had dropped his casual act and now showed his true colors. Some kind of deep-rooted instinct for survival told me that beside me was someone who would not hesitate to hurt people to get what he wanted.

And I? I was strapped to a chair, at the mercy of this man who looked like he didn't have an ounce of it in him.

It was becoming hard to breathe. I clamped my teeth together tighter and snapped my eyes straight ahead again, taking slow, deliberate breaths through my nose in an attempt to stay calm. They're just trying to scare you, I told myself. Plenty of bark, but no bite. Behind the sitting bald man, my pale face stared back at me with wide, fearful eyes.

"Guess you lost the helmet, eh? Too bad for ya, FitzEvan."

Reno's voice was silky and dangerous. Fingers stroked the hair on the top of my head. I flinched away, out of their reach.

"Not very safe without it, is it?"

The fingers found my hair again, only this time they twisted it in a tight fist and yanked my head back with vicious force. I cried out in pained surprise and found myself staring into a pair of ruthless eyes. Reno loomed over me, his face only inches away from my own. He was so close that I could smell spicy cologne and cigarettes. Some of his red bangs touched my forehead, tickling my skin.

"All sorts of unpleasant things could happen to such a pretty face."

He brushed my cheek with a thumb as he spoke, then traced my eyebrow. In any other context, such a touch might have been pleasant, even intimate. Now, it made me cringe. My arms strained against the cuffs around my wrists, but not even the enhanced strength granted by the suit could make them budge.

"Let me go!"

My panicked protest was ignored.

"The eyes are very vulnerable, aren't they?"

My mouth went dry. He didn't mean...? Surely, he wouldn't...?

The man shifted, reaching for something inside his jacket. I heard a soft, metallic click and then cold, hard steel touched my face, just under my right eye.

"What's it gonna be, FitzEvan? Will ya play nice?"

I froze. I just stared up at him in shock as the flat of the blade slid over my cheekbone in a slow, morbid caress. Any thoughts of keeping up a brave face had disappeared from my mind; in fact, all coherent thought was rapidly replaced by rising panic. My breath was coming in uneven gasps and my eyes were beginning to water from the pain in my scalp and my neck.

"Warning. User heart rate elevated."

At such a close range, the suit's electronic voice was audible to the redhead as well. He smirked and cocked his head.

"Scarin' ya, am I? I wonder what else that suit of yours can detect. Let's find out, eh?"

He pushed the blade against my skin.

"No, don't!" I cried. "Please! Stop!"

The grip on my hair prevented me from pulling away; instead I desperately tried to keep my head still. Any more pressure on the knife and it would break the skin, slicing into my lower eyelid. Wetness trickled down my cheeks, but I didn't even dare to blink.

Those unusual aquamarine eyes filled my field of vision, appraising me; so cold and uncaring in the face of my terror. Several seconds passed by while I waited for the stab, followed by agony. All I could hear was my blood thundering through my veins as my heart tried to escape my chest.

"Please, don't," I whimpered. "I'll do what you want!"

When he let me go and straightened up, the relief was so intense it made my head spin. I stared ahead, panting, my eyes fixated on the small switchblade in his hand.

"I knew ya were a smart one, yo. Turn it off."

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat several times, fighting a sudden fit of nausea. I was shaking. I hated the way my body betrayed my weakness to these men, but I couldn't stop it.

"Turn off the suit," he commanded, louder the second time, tossing the knife in the air and catching it again. "Now."

What choice did I have? These men were willing to torture me in order to get their hands on the damned suit. I wasn't prepared for anything like this. I was just a scientist, for crying out loud.

"Fine," I ground out through gritted teeth. "I need to stand."

The redhead stepped aside. With a flick of his head, he gestured at his partner, who stood up and moved into position on my other side.

"No sudden moves," Reno warned as he undid the restraints on my arms and legs. "Just take it off, real nice and slow, and step back."

It was tempting, the idea of sending the bastard flying with a suit-enhanced power kick while he was crouched down. But then what? I wasn't a fighter and judging by the wide shoulders on the tall guy beside me, he was strong enough to match my suit. I could all too easily imagine him grabbing me after such a stunt, followed by the red-haired punk exacting revenge with that blade of his.

Reno freed my limbs, uninterrupted, and moved out of reach. I took a deep breath and hazarded a glance at him. The man was standing in front of me, a couple of paces away, once again in a slack pose with his hands in his pockets. He seemed amused by the hateful glare I sent his way as I stood up, and his lips curled into a contemptuous smirk.

I dropped my gaze to the floor, feeling tears brim in my eyes again. Whether they were tears of anger, fear, frustration, or all three; I couldn't tell. I furiously blinked them away before any could fall.

"Suit, power down."

The weak and shaky voice sounded nothing like my own. For a dreadful second I feared the suit's voice recognition system would fail to identify it.

"Suit powering down."

The verbal acknowledgement was followed by a quiet humming noise as it obeyed my command. No longer assisted by its strength boost, my shoulders sagged under the suit's weight, making me realize how sore and exhausted I was. As I undid the clamps on the side of the chest plate, I noticed my hands were still shaking. It made the task more difficult, and the fact that two hostile thugs watched my every move didn't help matters.

It was a slow process. Each piece that clattered to the floor diminished the physical support the suit had provided, making the battered state of my body more and more evident. The suit had prevented fractures, but there were plenty of painful bruises.

Once the whole suit was in a heap on the floor, I took a step back.

"The rest too."

My head snapped up and my lips parted, a biting remark already on my tongue, before I remembered my position. I looked at both men in turn. My expression must have been a mix of disbelief and pleading.

"You expect me to strip everything?"

"I expect ya to do as you're told," Reno replied, his lazy drawl laced with just a hint of threat. "You ain't wearin' that slinky thing for its sex appeal. I can see the circuits from here, yo."

He was right, I couldn't deny that. The undersuit contained the sensors that the suit's systems used to monitor my status. I looked down at the haphazard pile of suit pieces on the floor, my jaw tight and shoulders tense, trying to come up with a reason that would convince them to let me keep my clothes on.

The redhead didn't have much patience for my hesitation anymore.

"Y'know, since you played along with just a wee bit of sweet-talkin' from yours truly, I'm gonna give ya a choice this time. Either you take it off yourself or we take it off for ya. What's it gonna be?"

The glare I sent his way no doubt made it clear what I thought of his oh-so-generous offer, but I lowered my gaze again as I reached for the zipper on the collar with unsteady fingers. This was a decision I would not let the odious man make for me. The thought of their hands on me made me sick to my stomach. I desperately hoped my protective suit was all they were after.

I couldn't bear looking at either of them as I peeled off the black, skintight garment and tossed it onto the pile. Instead I examined the left side of my ribcage in the process – most of the skin was ugly black and blue, as I had feared.

"Good girl."

Reno's mocking tone made my skin crawl. My hands balled into fists, but otherwise I stayed still, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a more explicit reaction, while he inspected my half-naked body with a mildly bored expression on his face. The fact that the sports bra and boyshorts I wore under the hazard suit were among the more concealing types of underwear was slim comfort. I felt heat rising to my cheeks.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I whispered. "You sick son of a bitch."

The redhead laughed at my accusation; a harsh, mirthless laugh that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Not as much as you think, sweetheart."

Neither man moved. They had my suit now, so what were they waiting for? I just wanted this humiliating ordeal to end already.

"Happy now?" I snapped. "Or do you want everything off?"

The derisive smirk returned and I wished I could have smacked it off his face. Preferably with the aid of my strength-boosting suit.

"C'mon, Fitz, don't be like that. We're pros, yo." He looked me over again, this time with blatant appraisal. "Tho' I gotta say, it'd be an improvement. Those undies ain't exactly sexy, y'know."

My face burned even hotter. "They're not supposed to be," I mumbled.

How pathetic I had become in just half an hour. My normal self would have informed him exactly where he could stick his so-called professionalism. Now, I yielded meekly and hoped that awful man would leave me be as soon as possible. I had no fight left in me.

To my relief, a knock on the door interrupted our exchange before Reno could come up with any more distasteful remarks.

The air was cold on my bare skin and I shivered. I raised my arms to hug myself and rub the goosebumps from my arms while the bigger man opened the door. A petite, blonde woman, dressed in the same suit as the other two, pushed in a cart of sorts.

I glanced up at the mirror on the opposite wall. It seemed I had been right about us being watched. How else would the woman have known to come in at the right time? How many others were on the other side, watching? I winced and looked away from my reflection and its reminder of how much skin I was showing.

The woman and Rude lifted the suit pieces onto the cart while the redhead kept an eye on me; the faint, snide curl of his lip never fading. When they were finished, he followed them out.

"Good talk, FitzEvan," he called from the door. "We'll be doin' this again soon, yo."

With that sinister promise, I was left alone.

Chapter Text

I spent the night in a small cell, shivering on a narrow cot. Eventually I must have drifted into some manner of sleep, because when my eyes snapped open, they discovered a set of clothes on the floor. Simple cotton pants and a sleeveless shirt; both the same distasteful, off-white hue and stretched with use. Still, better than freezing. I pulled them on with some reluctance, trying my best to ignore the disturbing thought of someone having watched me as I slept. In my underwear.

Chapter Text

"FitzEvan! Or whatever the fuck your real name is! We meet again. Miss me?"

In a rather Pavlovian response, my muscles coiled tight at the sound of that jarring voice alone. Reno flashed me a toothy grin as he dropped himself into the chair on the right, while his partner took his customary place in the other one. I wondered what the bald man's purpose could be in these interrogations. He never said anything, rarely moved. Reno the chatterbox ran the show.

At the moment, however, the redhead was quiet. He was examining me with a thoughtful look on his face, as if mulling something over, while his fingers tapped a lazy beat against the table. His eyes paused as they passed over my left hand and darted up to meet mine. He'd noticed the missing ring, I realized. I was beginning to suspect that despite his seemingly disinterested demeanor, few things escaped the man's attention. He didn't say anything, however, and his gaze resumed its inspection.

I tried to keep an indifferent air, but as the silence stretched on, I couldn't help but fidget under his scrutiny. My nerves were shot. My injuries may have been minor, but they still bothered me, wearing me down with a dull, constant ache. The nights in my cell had been restless; the nameless dread had followed me even into what little sleep I'd managed to catch, depriving me of proper rest. In the mirror, a haggard face stared back at me; its paleness a stark contrast to the dark suits on either side of it.

How long had it been? I had no way of telling the time, but I would guess three, maybe four days since I first woke up here. No more than four days, and I was already a nervous wreck. Four days, and no sign of a rescue or a way out.

"Fitz, baby," Reno drawled, "we didn't end on a very good note last time. How 'bout we try again? A fresh start, eh?"

I said nothing. I didn't even look at him, just stared straight ahead into the lifeless eyes of my reflection.

"Let's talk 'bout why you trespassed on Shinra property. Let's see if we can figure out the 'how', too, while we're at it, eh?"

"I told–" The words scraped my vocal chords like sandpaper and I had to clear my dry throat before I could continue. "I told you already. It wasn't planned."

"So you're sayin' you ended up inside Shinra HQ, on a restricted floor in the city's single most secure building, by accident? A lil' farfetched, dontcha think?"

I released a slow, deliberate exhale. His condescending tone managed to pierce the fog dulling my sleep-deprived mind and irk me, but I couldn't come up with any sensible retort. I didn't feel like repeating myself, either, so I chose to remain silent.

"You sure you didn't, say, have a lil' help from the inside? Someone like, oh I dunno, a disgruntled middle manager with more debt than brains?"

I glanced at the speaking man's face, unsure of what he was getting at, but the intensity of the piercing stare that fixated my eyes made my heart skip a beat and I snapped them back ahead before fear could get the better of me. In the periphery of my view I was aware of a lopsided smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Turns out our last lil' chat had to be cut short 'cause of a bunch of morons dumb enough to use the access codes shit-for-brains had sold 'em. Headed for the Weapons Department, didn't get far. Friends of yours, by any chance?"

That didn't sound like the modus operandi of Cobalt Industries. It certainly wasn't my team of harmless technicians and scientists.

"No? Then I guess you won't be sad to hear they're dead, huh?"

Perhaps I should have been appalled by the casual reveal, but I was too drained to react to the harsh fates of strangers, even if it was intended as a foreshadowing of my own. Not a single muscle moved on the vacant face of my mirrored counterpart.

"You were headin' somewhere else tho', weren't ya? Why the labs? Tryin' to get your hands on Hojo's research?"

My forehead creased slightly. Labs? I didn't remember any labs apart from our own. Who was Hojo?

"Then again, who knows if you really are a scientist," the man mused out loud. Maybe he had misinterpreted my frown. "Maybe it was just good ol' sabotage. Were ya gonna release Hojo's critters? Wouldn't be the first time some tree hugger do-gooders had that particular bright idea for attackin' Shinra, yo."

He wouldn't keep asking questions forever. His tone had already sharpened with impatience. I had to speak, or the situation would escalate to something far more unpleasant than a mocking voice grating my ears.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about," I explained with as much calm as my hoarse, unsteady voice could manage. "I had never even heard of Shinra before you mentioned it."

Reno laughed.

"Jeez, now I know you're lyin'. Everyone's heard of Shinra. You're one of 'em eco terrorists then? Causin' mayhem in the name of Mother fuckin' Gaia, is that it?"

"Gaia?" I exclaimed in exasperation, tired of both the constant dismissals and the nonsense he was spewing. "Who's Gaia?"

"C'mon, darlin', enough of the dumb act. The damn planet, of course."

I racked my brain for some kind of a connection between the strange names he was throwing at me. Maybe it was the stress, or the lack of sleep, but I couldn't make any sense of it. Nothing made any bloody sense right now. It scared me more than I would have expected. I had a talent for finding connections, seeing patterns. Why couldn't I see any now?

"Which planet?" I asked, hoping for something, anything, that would make the rest click into place.

The two men exchanged an odd glance.

"This one," the redhead said slowly.

My confused frown deepened. "You mean Earth?"

Reno's skeptical stare transformed into plain disbelief.

"We're in Midgar," he informed me all of a sudden, then continued when I gave no signs of recognition. "Y'know, kinda looks like a huge fuckin' pizza on a pole? Big reactors all around, glows green at night?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

I had never even heard of anything like what he was describing. Big pizza on a pole? It sounded ludicrous. The red-haired man narrowed his eyes and studied me with a curious look on his face.

"North of Junon, west of Kalm? Eastern Continent?"

"Eastern continent? You mean Asia?" I suggested uncertainly, then recalled the North American point of view. "Or Europe? Africa?"

"Uh... No. What about Costa del Sol, know that place? West of here, across the sea. No? Gold Saucer, then? Wutai? Mideel? Any of this ring any bells?"

With every unfamiliar name, the vague unease had grown to something akin to mild panic, making my breaths heavy and uneven.

"I don't know any of these places! Look, Cobalt Industries is an American company. I work at their research facility in Boston."

I had desperately hoped for instant recognition, but of course I had no such luck. It was Reno's turn to look puzzled.

"Huh?"

"I live in the United States of America," I clarified, feeling a cold trepidation settle in the pit of my stomach. "I have a dual citizenship, British and Canadian, and a permanent residency in the US. Check with the embassies!"

The words nearly stumbled over each other as I relayed the facts I should have told them yesterday, had I not been petrified by fear. However, none of them caused the reactions I had hoped for.

"Riiight," the redhead said, in a tone reserved for lunatics or senile old ladies. "Okay. That's enough for now, yo."

With that, the two men shot out of their chairs and exited the room. I stared after them long after the door had closed, fighting the anxiety that threatened to overtake all pretense of composure. Neither of them seemed to know any of those countries. Surely, that couldn't be possible? And all those places Reno had listed; names that said nothing to me.

Something was very wrong here.

My mind was a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts. It was all too overwhelming; I just couldn't focus on a specific one. Once I had been taken back to the relative privacy of my own cell, I lay down on the cot, closed my eyes and forced myself to take deep, slow breaths. Gradually, I was able to calm myself down enough to attempt a rational analysis of the situation.

A new, different world. It was Victor's ultimate goal for the Gateway project, albeit still very much theoretical and distant – or so we had thought. I should have realized it was a possibility. At first, everything had just seemed so...

I struggled to find the right word. The circumstances were hardly "normal", nor were they "unexceptional", considering the treatment I had been subjected to in the past few days. "Natural" could work, I suppose. It wasn't unreasonable to imagine myself in such a predicament on Earth.

Not only would it have been easier to identify the situation if I had landed on a completely alien planet, it would also have been easier to accept it. So much was similar here - no, identical. The language was the same – more or less, a wry part of my brain corrected me, remembering the red-haired man's sloppy slang – as were mannerisms, behaviors. Reno had even referred to human nature, for crying out loud. It should be impossible. It was impossible.

A frustrated snort escaped me. That was the best I could do? A scientific degree combined with years' worth of experience as a professional researcher, and all I could come up with was "impossible", despite the glaringly obvious proof to the contrary. I was here, wasn't I? It had to be possible, somehow.

Then again, was the evidence so waterproof? I scoured my recent memories for anything that would support the suspicion, but it was an exasperating exercise. I had seen nothing of the world beyond the cell and the interrogation room, so it boiled down to a handful of unfamiliar place names and my interrogators' claims and reactions. However, the latter had been rather convincing.

I grimaced and rubbed my temples, trying to alleviate the beginning headache. So many questions and so few answers. I would have to settle on a working hypothesis before the what-ifs drove me mad. So, operating under the assumption that I had been whisked away to a new world...

It was doubtful that I had just randomly ended up on a distant planet in our universe. The odds were, well, astronomical. There had to be a link. Some kind of parallel dimension? Not, that didn't sound right. This world was as three-dimensional as the one I came from. A parallel world, then? Parallel universe? I didn't know how to classify something like this. Did a proper classification even exist?

I huffed in frustration. If only Victor was here. He would have had a field day in a place like this, trying to unravel its secrets. It was literally his wildest dreams come true.

Victor... My chest constricted at the thought of my enthusiastic friend. The last memory I had of the man was him staring at me through the security glass after he had initiated the jump sequence. There had been a look of apologetic awe on his face as he watched the energy field expand and fluctuate around me until my vision rippled like waves on water. The next second the floor had shaken violently and he'd been propelled through the air when the lab door was blown open by our assailants, and then... nothing. My mind was a blank. I had no idea what had happened after that. I didn't know if he had survived the attack.

Clenching my jaw, I dragged my mind away from those events, forcing myself back onto my original train of thought. I considered my options. There was no point in driving myself crazy with speculation on alternate worlds. Theoretical physics was Victor's field, not mine. Cellular biology, however, was a different matter. The question was, how could I use it?

I shifted on the bed, bending one arm under my head while the other rested across my waist, and stared up at the ceiling with eyes narrowed in thought. The main problem was lack of information. I could observe the people in my vicinity, but that would only give me some indication about behavior and external characteristics. My sample size would be pretty limited, too. I needed more data. Genetic material to compare with my own and a proper lab in which to conduct observational studies and experiments.

Alas, I doubted these Shinra people would be willing to set me loose in their labs if I just asked nicely; if they even had any I could use in the first place. I would need to look elsewhere. Judging by my crazy-haired interrogator's last line of enquiry, this world had its own scientists and researchers. Did they publish their results? Did scientific journals exist in this world? Or books? I frowned, disturbed by the idea of a world devoid of literature. What a miserable, joyless place that would be. Of course they had books here. They had to have books.

Then again, my experiences in this place had been pretty miserable and joyless. Come to think of it, I hadn't heard any music, either, or seen a single cup of coffee.

No books, no music, no coffee, and doomed to be tormented daily by odious men in black. I groaned and buried my face in my hands. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like I had landed in my own personal hell. Maybe I had died during the attack and this was the punishment for my lack of belief in an afterlife or higher power.

Then again, maybe the answer was something much simpler. Maybe I had just gone insane. If so, my subconscious was more fucked up than I could ever have imagined.

I chuckled, toying with the ideas in my mind. Yup, looked like I had cracked the mystery. These were the only two sane explanations. The chuckle deteriorated into a manic giggle. I was either a nutcase or in hell. Tears began streaming down my cheeks and no longer knew if I was laughing or crying. But hey, every cloud has a sunny side, right? At least it couldn't get any worse.

Right?

When morning came, any lofty plans I may have concocted the night before were forgotten. The ache in my muscles had doubled – no, increased much more than just twofold – and my joints were stiff and sore. My throat was raw, as if I'd spent the night screaming. My mind was just... numb. Smothered in cotton. I lay motionless on the cot, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, and must have spent over ten minutes trying to form a coherent thought. My efforts were in vain. In the end, even the act of keeping my eyes open became too strenuous.

I awoke again when the cell door flew open, but my sluggish mind barely reacted. My eyes fluttered open to see the familiar uniforms of the guards. It was time. Inwardly, I cringed, but was unable to muster a visible reaction.

As they dragged me along, even my impaired mind couldn't help but notice the route was different than usual. An elevator ride confirmed it. The interrogation room was not our destination.

Perhaps I had been wrong? Maybe the doubt on the faces of my interrogators had not been due to lack of recognition, but fear of trouble on an international level? Could they be releasing me?

The floor indicator of the elevator was going up. I hadn't noticed what floor we had started on, but we were already at sixty. That didn't seem to fit the release theory. The burgeoning hope dissipated, leaving behind a hollow dread.

The elevator came to a halt on floor sixty-seven. By that time I was swaying in place while chills crept over my bare arms, goosebumps forming in their wake. I didn't feel well at all.

The doors slid open with a perky ding to reveal more brightly lit, pale gray walls and floors. As I was herded into the nearest room, the smell of antiseptic and the bare, sterile space gave me a medical impression of my surroundings. Was I in an infirmary of some sort? I hoped so; I needed one.

The guards stiffened as the door on the opposite side of the room opened and a man in a white coat shuffled inside. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, revealing the prominent forehead, and his mouth was turned downward in a dissatisfied frown.

"Professor Hojo," one of the guards greeted. "This is the prisoner you requested."

My gut twisted upon hearing the word he used to refer to me. So much for my hopes of being released.

A younger woman hurried in after the man, also dressed in a lab coat and carrying a notebook and pen in her hands. Brown, wavy hair reaching her shoulders, pale skin, something of a nervous air about her. She hovered beside the professor while her restless eyes kept shifting between the people in the room, but didn't speak. The assistant, I concluded. Behind her, two others followed, though these were dressed in simple uniforms that resembled medical scrubs.

The professor peered at me over thin-rimmed glasses with cold, appraising eyes. There was something profoundly unsettling about the way he looked at me. There was no emotion, no empathy.

"Hm. Pale and sickly-looking, clammy skin, distastefully dull eyes. You don't look like a very exciting specimen, do you? Ah well, the tests will bring clarity."

I stared at him in stunned confusion. That didn't sound like a doctor's medical evaluation of a patient. Specimen? What the hell was he talking about? Specimen?

I wanted to demand an explanation, but all that my groggy brain could manage was a rather feeble one-word sentence.

"Wh-what?"

My flabbergasted question was ignored. The man's head jerked toward his assistant.

"Skin surface samples first, then sanitize the specimen before the rest of the tests. Follow the usual procedures and remember to document everything."

My puzzlement segued into incredulity, but no one else seemed to have a problem with the situation. The assistant's head bobbed up and down as she scribbled on her pad with furious speed.

"Yes, Professor."

With one last stare aimed at me down his long nose, Hojo stalked out of the room.

"Right," the assistant said, clearing her throat. "You two are dismissed. We will take over from here."

Her attempted tone of authority was moderately successful. The guards exchanged a brief glance, before one of them responded with a perfunctory "yes, ma'am". As they left, the man and woman in scrubs took their places.

"Examination room two," the assistant declared before leading the way through the door she had arrived from.

The two beside me grabbed an arm each in a tight hold and pulled me along after the woman. Considering my current state, their use of force was ridiculously out of proportion.

"Who are you people?" I croaked, forcing the words out even though each of them tore at my raw throat.

No answer; not even an acknowledgement of my question. The lab coat in front of me continued to swish back and forth in time with the assistant's brisk pace without pause. The orderlies didn't even look my way as my gaze flickered between their indifferent faces. The uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach morphed into full-fledged fear, its icy fingers clawing at my insides.

I was set down in an examination chair. I jumped when it moved to a half-reclined position without warning and the orderlies reacted by pushing me back down, then held me in place when I struggled. My pathetic efforts made no difference. The panic was rising, turning my breaths into shallow panting.

"What's going on?" I demanded, as loudly as my sore throat would allow. "What are you doing?"

The assistant had her back turned as she prepared an array of instruments on a steel trolley.

"Sedate the subject," she instructed, mild irritation in her voice. "I need her to be still for these samples."

My mind was recoiling, refusing to accept what was happening. What was wrong with these people? Now Reno's overt distaste for scientists made a whole lot more sense.

"No!" I yelled at the woman's back. "You can't do this! You can't just–ah!"

The sharp sting of an injection interrupted my protests, followed by a warmth that diffused from the needle into my arm. With only a few heartbeats, it had spread throughout my body, smothering my capacity for speech and movement in a soothing blanket of deceptively alluring languor.

"That's better." The assistant turned back, scalpel in hand, and reached for my arm.

"I'mmnnhgh," I pleaded, blinking sluggishly in a vain attempt to fight the effects.

The sedative brought with it the blessing of ignorance of what was being done to me. I knew the woman worked on my arm, hand and leg, but that was the extent of it. Then she said something about sanitizing, and the orderlies wheeled me out of the examination room.

Fluorescent lights raced above me, forming a glowing dotted line that traced my path down several corridors to an unknown destination. Along the way, I felt my head begin to clear. Perhaps the sedative was only intended for short periods of time. It certainly wasn't thanks to fresh air. The smell of antiseptic became stronger the further I was taken, as did other pungent, chemical odors I couldn't identify.

I was still too groggy to defend myself when the bastards ripped all my clothes off and hauled me into a small, tiled room. They left me in a heap on the floor and closed the door, while I stared at my surroundings in bewilderment, struggling to understand what had just happened. Then water burst forth from the ceiling, icy cold and harsh on my aching body, and tore a scream from my throat.

No, not just water. It smelled of detergent and stung my eyes, as well as the skin the assistant had damaged. I squeezed my eyelids shut and crawled over to the door, pounding on it with weak hands. I cried, I pleaded, I pummeled the door; but to no avail. Not even pressed up against the wall could I escape the relentless stream that pelted my skin with its frigid bullets.

When the hellish treatment came to an end and the door I had been leaning against opened, I just collapsed down onto the floor, unable to even use my arms to break the fall. My cheekbone smarted from the impact with the floor, but it was nothing compared to the feverish throbbing of my abused skin.

My eyelids drooped heavy, but I registered the scuffed pair of shoes that invaded my field of vision.

"Get up," someone commanded.

I stared at the shoes for almost a minute before I made the connection between their owner and the voice. The male orderly.

"She's still breathing, right?"

A different voice, female. His coworker.

"Yeah, and the sedative should've worn off by now. The bitch is just making trouble."

He was right about one thing: the effects of the drug was gone. I was intensely, agonizingly aware of my nakedness as I lay helpless and prone on the floor in front of strangers. Droplets of water trickled down onto the floor from my still form, but the ones rolling down my cheek were too warm to be remnants of the freezing barrage.

The man nudged my arm with the toe of his boot. "Come on, get up."

A deep, bitter resentment raked my chest, making my fingers curl up like claws against the floor. How could they treat me like this? Why? In what kind of a fucked up universe was this considered an acceptable alternative to letting someone take a shower like a normal human being?

The man let out an exasperated exhale, then seized my arms and yanked me up onto my feet. I cried out in pain, but the vice-like grip didn't budge. I stumbled over my own feet as he brought me over to the other orderly, who toweled me dry with rough swipes, ignoring my pained and mortified protests. When she was done, the pair wrangled me into a some kind of a disposable paper gown.

I was hoisted back onto the examination chair, now fully reclined, and restrained with leather straps around my wrists and ankles. Once more, I found myself pushed along Shinra's endless supply of bland corridors, interspersed with storage rooms of some sort. This time, however, I was aware of my surroundings and watched with openmouthed horror as we passed fluid-filled cylinders with... creatures in them. I had no better word for them, these nightmares in physical form that lurked within their phosphorescent prisons.

It was the almost human ones in the cavalcade of deformed monstrosities that made my stomach churn. Had all of these once been human? Were these more of Hojo's "specimens"? What in the name of all things holy were these depraved sons of bitches doing in here?

By the time my transport rolled to a halt, I was hyperventilating. I felt dizzy, my lips were tingling and I couldn't focus on the voices around me. I was cold now, shivering violently, which only worsened when the robe was cut off of my body.

A flash of light blinded me. Blinking away the bright spot, I caught glimpses of the faces of Hojo and his assistant hovering above me before another flash overwhelmed my eyes. Needles dug into my arms and I could hear one voice louder than the others, babbling incoherently. I think it was my own.

A darkness was creeping into the edges of my vision. My hearing was fading, too, and I could barely hear my own panicked gasps over the sound of my heart thundering in my ears. At last, the sickening reality grew distant as I fell into merciful, endless black.

Chapter Text

"Kerrigan!"

A nasal, imperative male voice, nearby but muddled, as if the speaker is swathed in cotton. Or perhaps I am. I feel heavy, numb. I'm pretty sure that should worry me, but I can't seem to make myself care.

The voice is familiar. I know I have heard it before, but where? When...? I don't like the voice. I want to open my eyes, but the lids won't budge. I can only listen, and can barely manage that.

"I'm here, Professor."

A second man's voice. Unfamiliar. Eager to please, like a puppy with its master.

"Subject TU-021 had several severe infections, which resulted in acute systemic inflammation. Attempts with Cure and Esuna failed, but response to medical treatment seems satisfactory."

Am I alive? I think so. Death is non-existence. Weightlessness. I feel too heavy to be dead.

"Hm. Unusual, and aggravating. My work will be delayed by weeks. I can't conduct research on impaired specimens."

"Oh, speaking of that. Your previous test results are ready, Professor."

"Finally."

The rustling of paper, the occasional humming sound.

"The tests confirm that the specimen has human DNA. How disappointing. Just another delusional fraud."

I should remember this. It is important. I think. Yes. Yes, it is. If only I could remember why.

"But Professor, there's an abnormally high number of rare mutations... Perhaps they are worth a closer look?"

"While mildly interesting, none of them fit the genetic profiles we're looking for. In fact, several of them render the specimen unsuitable for our Mako research."

An indignant huff.

"Such is the fickle nature of mutation. A random shuffle of the genetic deck holds the potential to produce brilliant specimens, but sadly, it's more common for the end result to be of no evolutionary value. In this case, inferior genetics leading to a poorly developed immune system. Abort the scheduled experiments. This is a waste of time."

"Do you wish to discontinue the treatment too, Professor?"

A long-suffering sigh.

"I suppose we may as well try to keep the specimen alive for now. Its appearance in my lab is unexplained, not to mention worrying."

More shuffling of papers. Then the first voice again, growing distant as it speaks. Are they leaving? My head feels so heavy.

"If the specimen survives, give it to the Turks. Maybe they'll drag out the truth about that, at least."

The voices are very faint now. I can only just make out the reply.

"Yes, Professor."

The first detail I became aware of was a regular beeping sound. With some effort and concentration, I was able to determine that it was coming from somewhere on my right. It was a rather mellow sound, really. Soothing.

Eventually, it occurred to me that I had more senses than just my hearing. I was lying on something firm, although not uncomfortable, and I could feel a light softness draped over my body. I was warm. That, in particular, was a wonderful feeling. I wasn't sure why. I just had the impression it had been a long time since I felt warm.

After a sluggish mental check of my body, I concluded that I wasn't in any particular pain. That, too, struck me as a novelty.

A presence in the room made my eyes drift open.

"Oh, you're finally awake."

The female voice sounded pleased, with an underlying note of surprise. I lolled my head over in its direction until my gaze landed on a plump woman with blonde hair and a warm smile, dressed in some kind of a white uniform. I frowned, confused.

"Don't you worry, sweetie," the woman chirped. "You'll be just fine."

She was so cheerful. That didn't seem right. My mind was fuzzy, but I was pretty sure there was nothing to be cheery about. Not at that level of cheer, anyway. Only the blissfully ignorant were that full of pep, or maybe... Uh, peppy... puppies? Puppies were pretty ignorant, right? Not that this particular train of thought was of any importance right now. Or, in fact, ever.

Christ, my brain was infested with candy floss. Despite this significant drawback, I attempted to form a sentence.

"Whu–"

My weak croak was interrupted by a cough when my parched throat refused to cooperate. The blonde disappeared, but returned only moments later with a glass of water.

"Here you go," she said, holding the glass to my lips while she supported my head with the other. "Small sips, now. Take it slow."

I was distantly annoyed at being handled like a helpless child, although to be honest I wasn't sure I could have held the glass on my own. My arms felt tired and heavy, along with the rest of my body. With the woman's aid I was able to swallow a few mouthfuls.

"There we are," she said, satisfied. "Now, you just wait here a moment while I get Dr. Maxwell, okay?"

Before I could endeavor to come up with an appropriate response, the portly woman had hurried out of the room. I let my eyes wander over the room at a languid pace. Pale green walls, a white ceiling. Larger than the cell I remembered, with a real bed. A hospital bed. Had I been ill? My memories were hazy. With a deeper frown, I closed my eyes and concentrated, trying to think back.

My eyes flew wide open with a startled gasp as the appalling images returned to me. The lab. The tests. Hojo.

In a pure panic, I tugged at the covers to try to free myself, simultaneously rolling off the bed. If I'd had more presence of mind, the inevitable end result would have been obvious, but as that wasn't the case, I landed on the floor shoulder-first and collapsed in an ungraceful heap.

Having the wind knocked out of me had one benefit: it halted the senseless fear. Tangled in sheets, I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose to calm the panting, trying to ignore the monitor's urgent, prolonged beep of alarm. Wherever I was, it didn't look or smell like Hojo's laboratory. The woman had given me the kindest welcome I had received since I arrived in this awful Shinra place. No immediate threats were visible. In short, this was not the time to be ruled by anxiety.

Actually, was this still Shinra? I had no idea how I'd gotten from the laboratory to this room or how much time had passed. Nothing I had glimpsed before crashing to the floor had given me a clue as to my whereabouts.

"Oh dear!"

The exclamation from the door interrupted my musings only a second before I felt hands grab me and hoist me into a sitting position. Upon opening my eyes, I saw the same nurse as before, now accompanied by a middle-aged man in a white coat. A vision of Hojo and his assistants in lab coats flashed before my eyes. My muscles went rigid.

"It's alright, sweetie, we're just helping you up," the woman soothed. "Come on, let's get you back into bed."

She was an old hand at handling patients, because even with my half-hearted protests, the blonde had me bundled up on the bed in no time, with some aid from the doctor. She reattached a small, clip-like device onto my finger, bringing back the gentle blips that exposed the steady, although now rather agitated, rhythm of my heart. The man took my other hand to check my drip – which I hadn't even noticed until now – then turned his serious, gray eyes to my face and gave a curt nod in greeting.

"Good afternoon, Miss FitzEvan. I am Doctor Ian Maxwell. It's good to see you awake, at last, and so enthusiastic about getting out of bed. Let's leave that until a bit later, though, shall we? You're still recovering from a severe condition."

A subtle touch of humor injected a friendly note into a comment that I might otherwise have taken as snide. His dark hair was turning silver at the temples, enhancing his distinguished air. Dr. Maxwell seemed to be the type of man that only grew more attractive with age. They were always medical doctors, for some reason.

And this was another amazingly irrelevant line of thought. Well done, Tess. On a roll today.

"What..." I swallowed another cough, then tried again. "What happened?"

"You were unconscious when you were brought in, with impaired breathing and high fever. Pneumonia, caused by several microbial infections, which deteriorated into full-blown sepsis. It was touch and go for a while there."

I nodded slowly. It made sense. Systemic inflammation due to a immune system that was unprepared for the infectious agents of an alien world.

Hang on, was this an alien world? The current circumstances seemed so at odds with the preceding experience. Could I have just hallucinated the whole nightmare?

"Where am I?"

"The Shinra hospital wing," he answered. "You will remain here under observation for a while, but that is more of a precaution than a necessity at this stage. All signs point to a full recovery."

He gave me a small, reassuring smile, but my fledgling hope plummeted back into the abyss it had tried to rise from. I was still at Shinra. It had all been real. My poor, bleary brain reeled from the thought. I was in no shape, mental or physical, to deal with all the implications of my situation.

"Amanda will draw a blood sample now," the doctor continued. "I will see you again when the results are in. Good day."

After a polite nod, the man left the room with long, purposeful strides. I just stared tiredly at the ceiling while the nurse grabbed my arm and took my blood, trying to bring some order to the flighty thoughts in my head.

So, once again I had survived against improbable odds. The trouble was, I didn't know if that was anything to be pleased about. I had the vague but persistent notion that I was to be interrogated further. Were they bringing me back to full health just so they could continue their questioning? Or worse, did Hojo have something planned for me after all?

The mere idea of it made me sick to my stomach. I squeezed my eyes shut with a choked whimper as unwelcome memories threatened to return. It's embarrassing, but when the nurse returned, likely alerted by the hastened beat on the monitor, she found me curled up on one side with my arms flung around my head, hiding under the covers like a frightened child. I got through the next few days with the aid of tranquilizers and sleeping pills.

By contrast, my physical condition improved quickly over the same period. Hojo never returned, though, nor did the men in dark suits. While I considered it a blessing, it turned out to be just as much a curse, because no one else came for me, either.

My questions were dodged when I asked why I was kept in this place. When I wanted to know when I could leave, the answer was always "when it's been authorized". The reply to the question "by whom" was "it's classified". With time, it became clear that for all intents and purposes, I had been shuffled to the back and forgotten.

A waste of time.

To pass the time – and to distract myself from far more painful trains of thought – I concocted theories of parallel worlds and alternate universes, then twisted and turned them around in my head to the point of visceral frustration. I lacked sufficient data to confirm or deny, simple as that, and I only ended up going in circles. My requests for information, scientific or otherwise, were denied, on the grounds that they would only "feed my delusions". I wasn't even allowed to see my own test results.

My existence was defined by the ward's light-dark cycle and meal times. In this tangible reality of sterile rooms, stainless steel and ubiquitous medical green, my old life became distant and dreamlike. Eventually, I didn't mind the bland palette that surrounded me anymore, but let it engulf me and drown the uncertain thoughts and disturbing memories. It was easier to let go. What had seemed like a maddening, monotonous routine became comforting and safe. Days became weeks, and weeks turned into months, but the passage of time was no longer relevant.

Was I drugged? It was possible. After the first week or so, I wasn't overtly given pills or injections, but they could have put anything in my food. To be honest, though, I believe it was just my reaction to an unbearable, impossible situation. After all, what was the use in fighting? If I ran, where would I go? If I made them believe me, what good would that do? Among all the uncertainties and unanswered questions about where I was and how I'd gotten here, one fact loomed painfully clear: there was no way for me to go back home.

The staff appreciated such a docile patient. Little by little I was granted more freedom. The exit lay behind locked doors, but I was allowed to leave my room and sit in the patient lounge. The TV was set to one channel, the Shinra news broadcast. Often I would sit on the worn, green couch for the entire afternoon, watching without seeing.

I rarely saw other patients and when I did, they were either drugged beyond cognizance or lost in their own little worlds. The only friendly face I saw regularly was that of Amanda, the motherly nurse who always had a kind word or a happy smile ready for her patients.

Amanda was my main source of knowledge about the world of Shinra, although the information came in the form of juicy gossip. In my former life there was only so much talk about boys and relationships I could take before the need to throttle someone became overpowering, but now I just sat and listened, desperate for any form of human contact. After months of regular updates, I probably knew more about Shinra HQ's office romances and interdepartmental drama than most of the building's employees.

Nurse Amanda also provided me with reading material, although it was rather one-sided. The woman had an endless supply of sappy romance novels. For the first time in my life, I read about knights in shining armor saving damsels in distress, office romances, and lovers torn apart by war, disapproving relatives or other calamities. People fell in love left and right, drama ensued and in the end, unconditional love conquered all.

A load of bollocks, in my opinion, especially that last part.

Yet I kept reading them. Their predictable nature was a perfect match for my unchanging schedule. The one that held my unenthusiastic attention tonight was about a boy and a girl, just like all the others I had read, making doe-eyes at each other in sunny Costa del Sol during the day and meeting up for moonlit walks on the beach by night. I had heard of Costa del Sol, on one of the few occasions I let the TV reporter's words penetrate my haze. Judging by the news report, the book painted a highly idealized picture of the resort.

Halfway through the chapter, the book nearly fell on my face when the sound of a yell made me jump. Almost immediately, a loud crash followed. My bed even seemed to vibrate a little. For a few seconds I stared in the direction of the racket, mouth hanging open in stunned surprise and heart beating wildly in my chest. Whatever it was, it must have been nearby.

I set the book aside and padded to the door with quiet steps, pricking my ears. I could hear a voice in the corridor outside, faint through the door. It sounded angry. A second, much quieter bang rang out and the owner of the voice let out an extended, pained groan. Someone was in trouble. I opened the door and peeked into the hallway.

A metal cabinet lay diagonally across the hallway. It must have been the source of the noise. In front of it, someone dressed in the usual, dreary green was lying in a heap on the floor, partly obscured by a toppled wheelchair. For some reason, the figure was ensnared in what looked like twisted sheets. A male voice muttered irate curses while his arms flailed around for purchase. A leg jutted comically in the air, trapped in place by the combined strength of its inflexible cast and the tangle of sheets.

I rushed over and righted the wheelchair.

"Hang on," I called. "I'll get you up."

I rounded the chair, extending a hand to the man, but as soon as I got a look at his face, I recoiled in shock. An old fear surged through me, trapping my breath in my throat. Even in the dim light of the corridor, I recognized those bright, turquoise eyes, framed by red crescents. The equally red explosion of spiky hair was splayed out like a demonic halo around his head.

The man seemed to be as astonished as I was. Several seconds passed by while we stared at each other. His mouth moved several times before he found his voice.

"Holy shit," he stated. "FitzEvan?"

I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest, sending him an even glare. He may have plagued my nightmares for more nights than I cared to remember, but I'd be damned if I let him intimidate me when lying in a crumpled pile on the floor, covered in gauze.

The man – Reno, I recalled – gaped at me with wide eyes, until he blinked a few times and seemed to recover. A goofy grin appeared on his face.

"Hey, uh... Don't s'pose you could gimme a hand, eh?"

Was this what some people would call karma? How the tables had turned. I didn't trust my voice to hold, but turning on my heel and heading back to my room would no doubt convey my sentiments.

"Aw, come on!" he shouted after me. "I'm a fuckin' cripple here! You can't just–"

His agitated protests were cut off when I slammed the door shut behind me. I collapsed onto the bed, raking unsteady hands through my hair. My legs were shaking too. So much for my fearless bravado. It had taken every ounce of willpower I had to keep myself from breaking into a sprint; what exactly I felt the urge to flee from, I didn't care to scrutinize.

Just like before, I could hear his muffled yelling in the corridor, although I couldn't make out what he was saying. The noise wasn't too bothersome. I doubted I would be able to concentrate on my reading anymore, but with a pillow over my head, I should be able to go to sleep just fine. I stood up again and pulled back the blanket.

There was a fair chance he could remain there all night. Besides me, there was only the madman next door in this hallway. If no one else had heard the crash, Reno wouldn't be able to wake anyone up with the shouting either. The insulation was pretty good.

I picked up the pillow and lay down, pressing it over my ear. I was right; blessed silence descended. I felt my shoulders relax a fraction.

A broken leg wasn't his only injury, judging by the amount of bandages. He may have hurt himself even more in the fall. His own damned fault, of course, for breaking the rules by roaming the halls at night and being stupid enough to get into more trouble than he could handle.

I pulled the covers over me and snuggled into the soft warmth, settling into a comfortable position. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes.

It could get chilly out there on the floor at night. He might catch a cold, or worse. He must already be seriously injured, too, if he couldn't get up on his own. If no one found him before morning, the man might end up in a really bad state.

With an exasperated huff I threw the pillow at the wall behind me and reached for the call button. A voice crackled over the speaker.

"Yes?"

"Some idiot has crashed his wheelchair outside my room and can't get up. He needs help."

"Oh, okay. I'll take care of it. Thanks."

The voice sounded a bit uncertain. Maybe it was the way I'd growled the word "idiot".

I threw myself back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as I blew my hair out of my eyes with a long exhale. My pulse was still racing and I gritted my teeth in frustration. One look at him; that was all it had taken to reduce me to a nervous wreck again. While the nurses would soon take the yelling man away, I knew that any hope of a restful night's sleep – a slim one at the best of times – was now well and truly dashed.

What I didn't know, however, was that my actions that night had just shifted my future onto a whole new course.

Chapter Text

I had thought it would be an isolated incident. I had hoped I would never see him again. Yet the following day, the red-haired devil rolled back into my sequestered part of the world in his wheelchair.

"Fitz, baby!"

I flinched when the loud, obnoxious voice tore right through my protective cocoon of disinterest and dumped a bucket of ice in my belly. I hadn't heard him approach; I had been too absorbed in my own world while a newscast on TV droned on in the background.

Reno wheeled himself into the patient lounge; without incident, somehow, despite constantly being on the verge of colliding with the environment. He grinned at me as if he was greeting an old friend. I, in turn, whipped my head around to stare at the TV screen, taking slow, deliberate breaths to keep a semblance of calm.

"Miss me?" he chuckled.

I pressed my lips together and kept my eyes aimed forward. The segment changed and the screen now presented a reporter in front of an aerial shot of Midgar, showing the smoking ruin of a demolished section of the city. It had been the talk of the town for the past few days, both on the news and among the staff of the ward. Some kind of a terrorist attack that had collapsed a part of the city upon itself.

I'd felt the floor quake when it happened, for the third time that week. The previous two times it had been reactors, according to the news. Had I been more interested in reality, the escalating attacks might have worried me. As it was, they barely registered in my dulled mind.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Reno grimace.

"Eugh. Shut it off, will ya? I'm sick of that crap."

He reached for the remote himself before giving me a chance to react and turned off the TV. Another feeling began to penetrate the comfortable haze I shrouded myself in: I was annoyed. My hands resting in my lap curled up into fists as the irritation bubbled over into anger; no, into inexplicable rage. I was furious at the way he just rolled in and acted as if he owned the place – owned me – but fear made me swallow my resentment.

Yes, I was still afraid of him, even when the man was confined to a goddamned wheelchair. I felt ridiculous, but I couldn't slow the rapid hammering of my heart.

He tossed the remote onto the couch next to me, and navigated himself within the edge of my field of vision. My ears picked up every muted squeak of the rubber tires, every rustle of fabric – soft sounds that seemed disproportionately loud in the absence of the TV's noise. Once I had gathered enough courage, I gave him a sideways glance. His right leg was in a cast, as were a couple of fingers on the left hand. Above the standard green pajama pants for patients, he wore a white dress shirt. It was in much the same state as the one he'd sported when he questioned me: wrinkled and haphazardly buttoned.

That was as high as my gaze would go. I didn't want to see his eyes.

A "Turk", Amanda had told me. One of Shinra's underhanded enforcers, unscrupulous and deadly. Not their official job description, of course, but according to my eager informant, everyone knew the Turks did all sorts of dirty work for their company. Well, I could confirm that part from firsthand experience.

Several of the top shirt buttons were undone, giving me a glimpse of more bandages wrapped over his torso. I suppose it would have been too much trouble for the injured man to don the rest of the Turk suit. Why he had bothered with just the shirt was a mystery to me.

"Like whatcha see, doll?"

My gaze snapped forward again while warmth flooded my cheeks. Obviously I hadn't been as stealthy as I thought. The darkened TV screen reflected a view of the room, revealing the grin on the man's face. An odd shape shadowing his forehead subverted my initial instinct to look elsewhere again. It took me a few seconds to realize it was his goggles. They had struck me as a strange choice to wear in the interrogation room; now, it was outright bizarre.

"Just can't keep your eyes off me, eh? No need to be shy, darlin'. The view's even better when you look straight at me, yo."

I pointedly turned my whole head away from him. He laughed.

"C'mon, don't be like that. I'm just messin' with ya."

I jumped when something small struck my jaw. Automatically, I spun my head around, only to find myself staring into a mischievous pair of pale blue-green eyes. I froze – half in surprise, half in panic – but another hit, this time on my forehead, brought me out of the dazed stupor.

"Hey!" I protested and raised a hand to shield myself.

The offensive projectiles had landed on the plush seat next to me and I gaped at them in disbelief. Paperclips. The bastard was throwing paperclips at me!

Reno laughed again.

"It lives! Was beginnin' to think I was talkin' to a zombie, yo."

Another paperclip bounced off my arm. The redhead dug around in his shirt pocket with long fingers for a few moments, then frowned in disappointment.

"Aw damn, that was my last one. Hey, uh, mind givin' those back?"

With resolute movements, I grabbed the paperclips and hid them in my tightly balled fist, then stared straight ahead with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, c'mon!" he griped. "Dammit, you're as bad as those killjoys in the infirmary."

"Why are you here?" I finally dared to ask, grinding the words out through clenched teeth.

"Told ya. Messin' with ya."

Of course. Silly me, why had I even asked.

"Can't bother the nurses anymore. They just shoot me up with tranqs, the humorless old farts."

I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, although I could certainly understand the temptation. With no sedatives at my disposal, I chose to return to my apathy. Reno fidgeted for nearly a minute, then sighed with theatrical exasperation.

"Fine, be that way. Maybe you'll be less borin' next time, yo."

The Turk swerved the chair around in a precarious-looking move, then disappeared down the corridor with long, scarlet hair swaying in his wake. I watched him go, then let out a long, relieved exhale once he was out of view.

The relief was only brief, though, for his last words kept replaying in my head. Was he planning to return? An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Slowly, I opened my hand and studied the paperclips resting on my palm. Now that the fury was draining away, a dull, hollow ache was replacing it in my chest.

I threw the tiny items at the wall, desperate to get them out of sight and mind before they lured more emotion to the surface, then fled to the comforting solitude of my room.

Unfortunately, the next day Reno returned, and once again, he took advantage of my daydreaming to sneak up on me unnoticed.

"Well, well. Fancy meetin' ya here again, eh?"

I jumped, startled by hearing his voice right behind me, then went perfectly still.

The greeting was followed by a throaty chuckle. "Sheesh, you're so jittery, Fitz."

And whose fault might that be? I couldn't believe the insensitive audacity of the man, but decided to remain silent. I didn't want to spur him on.

"Still givin' me the silent treatment, huh. Fair 'nuff, yo."

I could have fled to my room, but I didn't have the privilege of being able to lock the door. No other doors were lockable by patients either.

Reno positioned himself so that his chair was aligned with the couch, then flopped against the back rest with an exasperated sigh.

"Man, this fuckin' wheelchair's pissin' me off. Such a pain in the ass. Still, better than bein' stuck in a fuckin' hospital bed all day. Can't stand just lyin' around with nothin' to do, y'know?"

I couldn't see any members of the staff; most of them were relocated to the emergency and trauma units due to the fallout from the recent terrorist attacks, making the psych ward a quiet, desolate place between meal times. There was the option of alerting a nurse with the call button in my room, but I was sure the redheaded pest would follow if I tried to leave the patient lounge. Did I really want to let him know where I slept?

"Couldn't even smoke in my room. I swear, the nurses must've put a smoke detector in there or somethin'. Some nosy jerk showed up every time I tried to light up. A fuckin' nightmare, I tell ya."

I could have hid in the bathroom, I suppose, but that would just have been embarrassing.

"Fucked up knee, buncha broken bones, enough bullet holes in me to qualify as a freakin' sieve? A fuckin' walk in the park compared to havin' to go without a decent smoke for, like, at least three days."

A pack of cigarettes had appeared in the Turk's uninjured hand and he twirled it this way and that in his fingers as he spoke, occasionally pausing to crinkle the cellophane. If he lit up in here, then screw the tattered remains of my pride. I'd hole up in the bathroom.

"And just for the record, the fire was all their doin'. Bustin' into my room like that, screamin' their fuckin' heads off? 'Course I dropped my damn smoke! Ain't my fault some dumbass had chucked some kinda flammable shit in the trash can, yo."

Asking him to be quiet? Pointless. Reno didn't strike me as a person who listened to other people, much less obliged their requests.

"Oh, hey, that reminds me of this trip I took to Kalm once. Ever been to Kalm? No? Well, don't bother. It's a shithole, borin' as fuck. Anyway, me and Rude, we show up late at night, right before the weekend, and wanna get rooms for the night..."

Too dumbfounded to pay attention to his story, I sat still, muscles tense, fists balled tight in my lap and my face aimed forward while sending quick, wary glances at him from the corner of my eye. The man's languid drawl continued, emphasized by animated gesticulation and punctuated by intermittent interruptions in the form of laughter.

"What are you doing?" I blurted out after one of said breaks in the narrative, subtly scanning our surroundings for hidden cameras.

Reno blinked a couple of times, then cocked his head and sent me a quizzical look.

"Huh? Are ya dense or somethin'? I'm tellin' ya a funny story, darlin'. Try to keep up, will ya? Anyway, as I was sayin'..."

The man droned on in a jovial tone that felt thoroughly out of place. He was in far too good a mood for a person recovering from the severe injuries he had listed. Was he high? That might explain why he thought it'd be a good idea to regale one of his victims with tales of comical misadventure in some backwater town.

The sound of voices drawing near in the corridor outside brought the one-sided conversation to an end. Reno tilted his head and listened for a second, then sent me a wry smile.

"Guess that's my cue. See ya when I see ya, babe."

I didn't look back as he wheeled himself out of the lounge, not even when the unseen owners of the approaching voices let out yells of agitated surprise.

Jokes, easygoing chitchat, lively grins and laughter free of derision. Was Reno the interrogator the evil twin of this wheelchair-bound rascal? Was the man schizophrenic? Or, indeed, on something more potent than mere pain relief? The easygoing manner was so vastly different from the cold, frightening man I had faced before.

The confusion made my retreat into peaceful torpor an outdrawn struggle that lasted for most of the afternoon. More than once, I caught myself peeking over my shoulder, half-expecting another unwanted visitation.

As I feared, the second visit wasn't the end of it. Now that the red-haired Turk knew where to find me, he spent far too much of his time haunting my ward. He would show up unannounced, several times per day, and always when the staff was occupied elsewhere. I tried staying hidden in my room, but he soon figured out which one it was. I turned up the volume on the TV to drown him out, but he just raised his voice until the combined cacophony gave me a headache. I hit the call button once or twice, but the man tactically evaporated, only to reappear two minutes after the nurse's departure.

Deciding it best not to cry wolf too often and unwilling to fight, I just gave up instead, falling back on the strategy of detached passivity. With my eyes turned down I sat meekly, obediently, while the red wolf himself chattered and pestered me, hoping he would grow bored and go away.

His visits served no obvious practical purpose. Despite being my former interrogator, the Turk never asked any questions about my origins. It was mystifying. Against my will, I found myself getting more and more intrigued. A couple of times I mustered up the courage to ask him if he had nothing better to do. Both times the answer was the same: a shrug and a "nah", followed by steering the topic onto something else. Once I wanted to know how he'd been injured, but he nimbly dodged that question. Reno remained a persistent, bothersome enigma.

The kindled curiosity paved the way for other, less benign feelings. My docile appearance belied the ever intensifying imbalance within, and it became harder and harder to keep it all inside.

"You read that lovey-dovey crap?" Reno asked with a laugh, a few days after his first appearance, when he saw me reading one of Amanda's books. "Bahamut's balls, sweetie, I would've thought you got better taste than that, yo."

"In case you haven't noticed, my options are rather limited at the moment," was my frosty reply.

He leaned his head to the side and idly scratched the back of his neck.

"So you don't like 'em? Why the hell are ya readin' the damn thing?"

"It's better than the current company."

As soon as the snide comment had left my lips, I regretted my lack of self-control. I stiffened and held my breath, keeping my gaze locked on the book in my hands.

"Ouch," Reno said with a snicker. "Was beginnin' to think you'd lost that bite of yours, Fitz."

The physical retaliation I half-expected never came, nor did it manifest in verbal form. It actually unnerved me; it didn't fit my impression of the man. The ever-present smirk didn't match the one I remembered, either. It may still have been smug, but it wasn't the cold sneer he'd worn before. I wondered when the cheerful veneer would crack to show the heartless brute I knew.

Fortunately, the man never tried to lay a hand on me during any of the encounters. Instead, his mouth did twice the work. The Turk had mastered the art of talking without saying anything of consequence. He spoke of all sorts of topics, from types of explosives, to the best hard-to-find food joints under the plate, to chocobo breeding. I made the mistake of asking what a chocobo was and ended up sitting through a lengthy, though rather rambling monologue on the subject. I now knew more than I'd ever wanted to know about giant, flightless birds.

I kept commenting to a minimum, though. The redhead babbled on, unbothered by such a reluctant audience. I recalled his silent partner; perhaps Reno was used to it. From time to time he would make some offhand remark about it my reticence, usually after making a joke I deliberately ignored.

"You're on my shit list, Mr. Turk," I informed him at one such occasion. "Right at the very top of it."

"Whatever. You'll warm up to me, baby," was the cocky reply. "You'll see, yo."

Wheelchair-bound cripple or no, I nearly slapped him. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say. In this case, it seemed to breed a growing lack of fearful cowering. Even Amanda noticed it.

"You're different, Teresa," she remarked one morning. "Suddenly you've really perked up. There's some actual life in you. Did Dr. Maxwell put you on happy pills?"

Strangely, the injured Turk didn't seem to mind this development. In fact, sometimes I could've sworn he riled me up on purpose just to encourage it.

No matter how skilled Reno proved to be at evasive maneuvers, I suppose it was inevitable that he would run into the staff sooner or later. One evening, only moments after he had vacated the room, high-pitched, irate shouting was heard from the corridor, making it clear he had run afoul of the ward's blonde guardian. When Amanda appeared in the patient lounge, an uncharacteristic scowl shadowed her round face.

"I saw that red-haired man try to sneak out of here. Did he come to bother you again?"

He was not supposed to leave the trauma ward, the friendly nurse had told me when I mentioned my frequent and uninvited visitor, but the staff still had too much on their hands with the aftermath of the collapsed sector to keep a constant watch on one unruly patient out of dozens. They were able to restrict him to the medical wing, but within it, the willful Turk came and went as he pleased.

"Yes," I sighed. "He's nothing if not persistent."

Her frown deepened and she placed her hands on the back of the couch, leaning closer.

"Be careful around him, Teresa," she warned.

I cringed inwardly at the bastardization of my name. Early on, Amanda had decided her version of my name sounded prettier and had used it since. In my complacent state I hadn't cared, but now it had begun to grate on my nerves. In my opinion, "Teresa" was an old woman's name.

I didn't complain, though. Lately, I'd been called worse on a daily basis; such as "doll" and "babe". Besides, Amanda was the closest to a friend I had in this place, and right now, her concern was obvious.

"He's with the investigation sector, remember?" the blonde nurse continued in a hushed tone. "They may not be the same anymore, but the Turks are still bad news."

I stifled a snort. She was definitely right about that. I hadn't told anyone about my interrogation, but thanks to the Shinra employee rumor machine, the nurse was already convinced that all Turk business was shady business.

Her phrasing caught my attention.

"Not the same? What do you mean?"

"Well," Amanda said, drawing out the word as she glanced around, then rounded the sofa to sit down next to me. "It's all pretty hush-hush, but as I hear it, the Turks did something to royally piss off old President Shinra some months ago."

Some months ago? I must have been locked away in this ward at the time. Suddenly, I was curious. Did it have something to do with why I had been forgotten here? In the first week, I'd been convinced the questioning would continue once I'd recovered, and had become more and more puzzled when no sinister men in suits came for me.

I wanted to ask for a more detailed timeframe, but that might have alerted the blonde's instincts for gossip. I had no desire to start rumors that might draw more unwanted attention to me. Having to put up with Reno's brand of it was bad enough.

"What did they do?" I asked instead.

Amanda seemed pleased to have an eager ear for once and leaned closer to speak in a low, conspiratorial voice.

"No one seems to know, or at least they don't dare talk about it. Whatever it was, it had to be pretty bad. The President and the board disbanded them!"

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. The Turks worked as a sector within one of Shinra's departments, Amanda had mentioned once, although I couldn't remember the long and convoluted name for it. I wasn't too familiar with the Shinra hierarchy, but disbanding a whole sector sounded like a drastic move.

"Really? But Reno is still a Turk, isn't he?"

"Yes, they were reinstated, but now there's only three of them left, if you don't count the new girl." The woman glanced around again, then continued in a stage whisper. "It's all very creepy, if you ask me. No one knows what happened to the rest, but they haven't been seen since. That's like a dozen people, just gone. Makes you wonder what the three that came back did to get their jobs back."

Even without the knowing look, her implication was clear: the Turks themselves had gotten rid of their wayward colleagues. A chill ran down my spine. While I suspected Amanda viewed the workplace gossip more as fanciful entertainment than fact, I could all too easily imagine my ruthless interrogators as corporate hit men, snapping necks and slicing throats.

The more I heard and saw about the inner workings of the Shinra company, the less it sounded like one of the business entities I was familiar with from Earth, and more like some kind of twisted, autocratic megacorporation that ruled the city of Midgar and much of its surroundings with an iron fist, untouchable by law.

And I was firmly in its clutches, trapped right in the middle of its headquarters.

Chapter Text

Days came and went, one following the other in an endless cycle. Much like Reno's visits, in that regard. With each encounter, he was less and less inclined to let me endure passively, while my mental barriers were cracking with every unexpected break in my safe routine. The man poked and prodded, looking for sensitive spots, and within a week, he stumbled upon a major one.

"I should have left you in that corridor," I hissed, punctuating my statement by tossing a handful of seized paperclips as far from us both as I could.

Words hadn't been enough to get a reaction out of me that day, but my temper had flared when the redhead fell back on pelting me with office supplies.

"Actually, you kinda did, remember? Why'd ya do that, anyway? I would've thought you'd love to watch me crawl on the floor. Maybe take notes while you're at it, yo."

A mocking note tinged his voice, along with accusation, but that last part left me more confused than irritated.

"What? Notes?"

"Y'know, be all 'scientific' 'bout it. I bet that's what Hojo would do, only he'd poke me with a stick, too, to see how I'd 'overcome unexpected physical challenges' or some other fucked-up shit like that."

There it was. A crack in the carefree facade, allowing a coldness to seep out and turn the smirk into more of a sneer. At this point, though, I was beyond cowering at subtle facial expressions. His inconsiderate words had already unshackled the darkness within and propelled me over the edge of caution. My eyes rose to hold his in a steady glare.

"Are you comparing me to Hojo?"

I uttered the question with a deathly calm, but as was his wont, the Turk ignored the warning.

"So you do know Dr. Freaky. Admirer of his work, eh?"

My fingers curled up on their own accord, digging deep into the worn fabric of the sofa, as flashes of half-repressed memories fueled the fire with a queasy mix of terror, hurt and humiliation.

"How dare you," I seethed.

Reno's half-lidded eyes didn't evade mine. Delicate eyebrows rose in challenge instead, egging me on.

"What are ya gettin' all worked up 'bout? Ain't ya s'posed to be a scientist like him?"

I shot up to my feet and towered over him, my fisted hands shaking with a rage that must have burned bright in my eyes.

"I'm nothing like that horrible man! Do you have any idea what goes on in his lab? Back where I'm from we have laws against the sick, twisted things he does! We have morals! Fucking professional ethics!"

The red-haired jerk had pushed me into screaming in his face. Reno didn't raise his voice or try to cut me off; he just watched me with an oddly satisfied look on his features as I yelled at him. It turned my stomach. How dare he look so pleased in the face of my anguish?

I was so enraged that tears formed in my eyes. Just as I finished my tirade, one of them welled over, splashing onto the cast on his leg. My anger entwined with embarrassment, and I turned on my heel to flee to my room. I couldn't stand the thought of crying in front of him on top of everything else.

He wasn't done with me, though. A few minutes later I heard the door open, followed by the quiet squeal of rubber tires on linoleum. I wiped away the wetness on my cheeks with angry swipes, then turned my face toward the wall, away from the insufferable bastard.

"Leave me the fuck alone!"

The door closed again, but now the sounds of the wheelchair were inside the room and moving closer. I sat still and tense, with my feet propped up on the bed and knees hugged to my chest, oscillating between anger, uncertainty and apprehension as I wondered what to make of his sudden silence.

I flinched when something landed on the bed beside me, then glanced down to see a box of tissues.

"Thought ya might need 'em, yo."

To say I was confused would have been an understatement, but one thing was clear in my mind. Whatever his intentions, I didn't want Reno anywhere near me.

"What part of 'leave' do you have trouble understanding?" I ground out through gritted teeth, glowering at the cardboard box as if hoping it would burst into flames.

Reno came to a halt by my bed, then looked me over. A small crease had formed between his eyebrows, but otherwise he looked as indifferent as ever.

"C'mon, Fitz, I just wanna check on ya."

His tone was far from remorseful or apologetic, but not exactly unperturbed either.

"Haven't had enough yet?" I growled. "Are you enjoying the show that much?"

"Believe it or not, watchin' women bawl their eyes out ain't gonna get me hard."

This time, the sarcasm covered any subtler sentiments. Together with the smirk, it was enough to make me tremble as another wave of resentment washed over me.

"Well you could have fooled me, looking so bloody pleased with yourself just now!"

"Yeah, well, that was before you ran off cryin'."

My body's reaction to uncontrollable fury may have been frustrating, but it was nothing compared to the redhead sitting by my bed. First he goaded me into exploding, reducing me to tears in the process, then insisted on... Well, whatever this was?

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, swatting away the moisture on my cheeks again.

"It means that I didn't mean to make ya so upset."

The Turk spoke with an exaggerated air of long-suffering patience, but a trace of emotion tinted his admission. Had I been in a more charitable mood, I might have acknowledged it as mild concern. Instead, I just scoffed.

"What the hell did you expect? Hugs and kisses?"

"More like a punch in the face," he countered with a low chuckle. "Maybe a few kicks in the ribs after knockin' me over and stealin' my key card."

I lifted my incredulous stare to his face, unsure of whether I should be more insulted by his assumption that I would stoop to abusing an injured man in a wheelchair, or by the fact that he apparently found the notion of me attempting to unleash violence upon him amusing.

"You wanted me to attack you?"

"You asked what I expected, not what I wanted," he corrected me. "Was just tryin' to figure you out, yo."

He still was, judging by the hooded but unflinching gaze he kept fixed on me, observing every reaction, reminiscent of a cat stalking a mouse. I wanted to look away, but my wounded pride was strong enough to keep my eyes on his face.

"And the fact that I might have beaten you up wasn't a problem for you?"

"I'm a Turk, darlin'. I may be down, but I sure as hell ain't out. If you'd tried anythin', you would've learned that the hard way."

The faint smile didn't falter, but a touch of steel glinted in his eyes as he uttered the last line. I averted my own, feeling a chill raise the short hairs on the nape of my neck. When I spoke, the unsteadiness of my voice was no longer due to teary anger alone.

"You've seen my reaction. You got your answer. Just go. Please."

"Nah, not yet."

I frowned and hazarded a glance his way. Reno had parked himself close enough that he could reach out and touch me if he wanted to, though he had not tried to do so. He just sat sprawled in his chair; injured leg jutting out at an angle, elbows planted on the armrests, hands hanging relaxed and motionless, head tilted my way. Just my luck that the first guy I had met who showed no signs of awkwardness when faced with tearful females was also the last person I wanted to be around right now.

"Why not?"

Reno's shoulders lifted in a casual shrug.

"Your face is still leakin'," he stated, as if it explained everything.

"So?" I exclaimed in exasperation, sniffling and wiping my eyes in a silly attempt to hide the evidence.

"It's my bad, yo."

I just stared at him, mouth hanging open. Was he serious? I couldn't tell. The crooked smirk on his face gave nothing away.

"After everything you've done, you worry about a few tears?"

The man wasn't affected by the derisive tone of my voice; he just shrugged a second time.

"That was work. This was me bein' too much of an ass."

A snort of shrill laughter escaped me before I could stop myself, and I lowered my eyes to the rumpled covers of my bed, shaking my head. I should just give up; there was no way I could figure this guy out.

"What, so now you suddenly care?"

"Should" being the operative word. I suppose the fact that my mouth refused to stay shut proved I was more stubbornly inquisitive than smart.

"Yeah, 'cause now I know what a sweetheart you are, FitzEvan."

Once again, I found myself unable to tell whether or not he was joking. Since no decent person would joke about what I had been through, I erred on the side of "yes" and I flung my narrowed eyes back on the Turk, only to find he was watching my hands with that same, strange expression he'd shown when I screamed at him earlier. Following his gaze, I found a damp, misshapen wad of tissue paper in my fingers. I had grabbed one from the box without thought.

The realization that I'd technically accepted his peace offering took the wind out of my sails. I gaped at it for several seconds before snapping my mouth shut and turning away in a huff.

"Yeah, well, you sure aren't one," I grumbled like a sullen child. I tended to lose all claim to eloquence when flustered, something Reno reveled in with particular glee. This time, however, his reaction was different.

"Guess ya might be right 'bout that."

Perfectly calm, as if he was agreeing on nothing more important than, say, my opinion of the wallpaper. A sense of unease crawled up my spine. What was going on? Was it all part of his little test?

A key card, he'd said. A chance to flee this place, he'd hinted, were I to take it off him. To be honest, the thought hadn't even occurred to me. I had stopped plotting escape long ago. Besides, I'd paid enough attention to my environment to know that key cards needed codes to work. How would I get Reno's code? Torture? Yeah, right. I'd be sick before ever getting as far as laying a finger on him.

And even if I broke free, where would I go? Perhaps loitering in a ward for months on end had made me too complacent, but I found the comforts of my current surroundings to be much more preferable to the great unknown beyond the exit; even when they included a bored redhead with too few distractions.

No, I wasn't one to use force to reach my goals; unlike my unreadable company. My thoughts returned to Reno's earlier remarks. I wondered how he would stop me if I tried to attack him, but I didn't doubt that he would do so. Beneath the nonchalance, I sensed an alert mind at work. Not the academic intelligence I was used to engage with, but an almost predatory cunning. A devious mind, well-adapted to trickery; one that was more than capable of coming up with ways to subvert the failings of a damaged body. After all, his injuries hadn't stopped him from smuggling himself into a high-security ward, time and time again.

"If you're not going to leave, then what the hell are you planning to do?" I snapped, trying to conceal my nervousness with hostility. "Hug me and tell me it's all going to be alright?"

The corner of the Turk's mouth tugged higher as he slouched further back into his chair, steadying his bandaged chest with his good hand while he settled into a more comfortable position.

"And give ya just cause to kick me in the nuts for sexual harassment? I don't think so, babe."

I was amazed Reno was familiar with the term. It's not like he bothered to let it influence his actions.

"Barging into my room and refusing to leave isn't harassment, then?"

He just quirked an eyebrow at my accusation.

"I ain't blockin' the way out, am I? You can just leave whenever ya want, y'know."

"And then you'll follow me again."

"Well, yeah," he admitted with a sly grin that undid his preceding, half-hearted stab at sincerity. "You really should've left me lyin' on the floor all night, y'know. Throw a dog a bone and he'll keep comin' back for more, yo."

So, Reno knew I'd made the call after all. I should have guessed as much. Would I have done it, had I known he would come back to hound me with such tenacity?

Probably. Curse my bleeding heart.

I snorted and shook my head. "No good deed goes unpunished, huh."

"More like one good turn deserves another, babe."

As much as I would have liked to keep the anger boiling in his presence, it had begun to drain away. A fatigue took its place, shoving lead into my limbs and a heaviness into my heart. Still, I made some pretense of keeping up antagonistic appearances.

"You call this a good turn?"

"Sure. Not everyone gets the pleasure of seein' my good-lookin' face every day, yo."

He grinned and winked.

"Oh, for the love of...," I mumbled tiredly and covered my eyes. "What on earth were you doing there anyway?"

"Earth?" Reno echoed with sudden interest.

How easily such phrases slipped out. It was comforting, in a way; if nothing else, it proved that if I'd just made it all up, I had at least done a damned good job of it.

"Uh, Gaia," I hasted to correct myself with a dismissive wave of my hand. "Whatever."

I held my breath, worried that my slipup would launch him into interrogation mode. There was a brief silence, but when the injured Turk broke it, it was in response to my enquiry instead of posing questions of his own.

"Wanted to crash on the couch and tried to find somethin' to use as a blanket. Just my luck that some dumbass had put all that stuff on the top shelves."

The crinkle of cellophane made me look up again. A battered carton of cigarettes had appeared and spun around in a restless pattern in his agile fingers.

"Why?" I asked, following the packet with suspicious eyes. He wasn't going to smoke in my damned room, was he?

"Why what?"

"Why would you sleep on the couch? It isn't that comfy, especially with a broken leg."

"Eh, y'know," he said with a shrug. "It's quiet here. There was too much goin' on where I was s'posed to sleep. Couldn't catch any shuteye with everyone runnin' around all the time, yellin' and screamin'."

"Oh," I nodded, stifling a small yawn, "because of the sector seven bombing, right?"

The cardboard box paused mid-pirouette.

"Yeah. That."

His tone of voice made me look up. Something clipped, almost reserved, had slipped into it, but when my eyes reached his face, they were greeted by the customary wry smirk.

"Well, I guess it's 'bout time I gave ya a break," Reno declared in his usual drawl. "Don't want ya to OD on my hotness. Too much of a good thing, y'know."

I blinked at the abrupt change of subject, then threw my head back and groaned.

"Do you ever stop being such a smug jackass?"

He just snickered and began to maneuver himself out. As the door was closing behind him, the redhead threw up one hand in a cursory wave.

"'Til next time, Fitz."

With a deep sigh, I let myself flop down onto my back, then hissed when a sharp corner of the cardboard box dug into my arm. I yanked it out from under me and during a brief inner debate on whether or not I should keep the tissues nearby, I realized I didn't need them anymore. The tears had dried.

I lay on my back for a while, turning the box around in my hands, inadvertently mimicking Reno with his pack of smokes as I mulled over the encounter. I had assumed I was just a cheap source of entertainment for a cruel man with far too much time on his hands, but he had been just as stubborn about dealing with the mess he'd made as he'd been about riling me up in the first place. Technically speaking, there had even been an apology. Sort of.

It made no sense. What the hell was the man up to?

The next time he returned, Reno tossed something at me as he approached.

"Hey, brought ya this."

I caught the book just before it landed in my face. I shot him an annoyed glance, then took a closer look at the item in my hands.

"The rookie gave it to me, but I ain't much for readin'," he explained.

"'Inferno of Extermination: A SOLDIER's Tale of Vengeance'," I read out loud.

The cover featured a ruggedly handsome man in some kind of a uniform that left his muscular arms exposed for admiration. He was striking a heroic pose while wielding a huge sword in his gloved hands. The "SOLDIER", presumably. I wondered why it was so popular to capitalize that word around here.

"Yeah, I dunno what the hell," the redhead sniggered. "I hope it says more 'bout the rookie than her opinion of me, yo."

Whatever it was, it would make a welcome change in reading material. I had mushy love stories coming out of my ears.

"I'll give it a go. Thanks."

I didn't anticipate the effect my automatic thank-you had on the man. He looked taken aback; then, for the first time, Reno was the one who averted his gaze.

"Hey, no prob," he mumbled.

I sent him a wary look, perplexed by his awkward reaction.

"What?"

"You shouldn't thank me."

After the curt statement, the Turk turned his chair around and began to wheel himself toward the exit at a swift pace.

"Gotta go, Fitz," he called over his shoulder.

From jokes to something akin to embarrassment and onward to the cold shoulder, all in less than a minute. The man's mood swings made my head spin.

I sighed, looking over the book's cover once again. So, Reno was bringing me gifts now? What was this, guilt? Remorse? Some demented Gaian courting ritual?

An attempt to set me at ease, more likely; to cajole me into lowering my guard. The last couple of visits went beyond staving off boredom and sidled into unfamiliar territory – for me, that is, but perhaps not for the redhead. Reno was a wily one; it would surprise me more if he didn't have a hidden agenda.

Chapter Text

"Yo!"

I almost dropped the novel on my face when the door to my room flung open without warning. Heart pounding, I shot up to a sitting position just in time to see the disheveled form of Reno wheel himself inside.

"Christ, Reno! Ever heard of privacy?"

He twisted in the seat to knock the door shut with as little care as he had opened it, then turned to face me.

"Yeah, well, I would've knocked, but I figured you wouldn't open the door for me anyway, soooo..."

He raised his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug.

I slammed the book shut and threw it onto the bed. It bounced and landed on the floor, but I ignored it, instead glaring at my intruder.

"Do you really think you have the right to just barge in here as you please?" I demanded, my voice going up a pitch.

The shameless bastard seemed amused by my indignation. Sadly, I wasn't surprised.

"Eh, y'know," he drawled with an infuriating smirk. "Turks ain't s'posed to have the instincts for doin' the right thing, yo."

"Oh, well, doing the right thing is overrated, isn't it?" I noted, my tone just as wry as his. "Just look where it got me. Locked away and forgotten, in this miserable place where anyone can just burst in at any time. No life, no privacy and not even a single, bloody cup of coffee for months!"

The impromptu rant just erupted before I could stop myself. Perhaps I should have kept my emotions under tighter control and not tempted fate by lashing out at one of Shinra's thugs for the second time in a matter of days, but there was a limit to how much I would take quietly. This devil of a man had a talent for flinging me right over it.

Besides, it felt damned good to let some of it out.

Reno once again chose to remain unthreatening. He snorted, unfazed by the outburst, then studied me with curious eyes.

"How exactly did doin' the right thing bring ya here?"

Here, as in this strange world I had been cast into. The question caught me off guard. It was the first time he'd broached the subject since the interrogation.

"I told you how I got here," I growled, gritting my teeth as memories of that awful time returned to me, fragmented but all too vivid for my liking.

"No, you didn't. You never said why, either."

It may have been true. I didn't like to dwell on those few days and wasn't about to go over them just to confirm or deny. What I did remember was the crushing helplessness when my explanation was rejected as mere flight of fancy.

"Are you prepared to believe me this time?"

"I'll listen. I ain't promisin' nothin' else."

A blunt answer to a pointed question. I responded with a bark of laughter.

"Then why the hell should I tell you anything?"

Reno cocked his head to the side and studied me with a raised eyebrow. A few red wisps fell into his face and he blew them out of his eyes before answering.

"'Cause I reckon that after months among lunatics and other poor saps drugged up to their eyeballs, ya might wanna talk to someone who's got enough brains left to understand what you're sayin'. Someone who ain't one of the white coats who think you're crazy."

Persistent, wasn't he? He had something of a point, too, as evidenced by the absence of a point-blank refusal on my part. Now that I had been persuaded to emerge from my walking coma, I was thoroughly sick of my isolated existence. Speaking to him, though... That was one hell of a step to take.

"Is this an interrogation?"

He snorted and rolled his eyes. Irritated, I turned mine toward the floor. The book was splayed open on the floor, its pages fanned out and exposed after the unkind landing. I wondered if that was how I would end up feeling once the Turk was done with me.

"I ain't fit to work, sweetie, that's what the damn doctors keep tellin' me. Just offerin' a friendly ear outta my own curiosity, yo."

"Friendly, huh? I hope you left the knife at home, then."

My bitter comment was met with silence. I wasn't expecting that.

"Look," Reno began after a few moments, then hesitated.

My brow knitted at the uncertainty in his voice. I glanced up to find that he, too, was frowning and watched me with an odd look on his face.

"I ain't gonna apologize for doin' my fuckin' job, but–"

I looked away with a sharp exhale. He paused again, as if he was having trouble finding the words for what he wanted to say.

"FitzEvan, I didn't want to hurt ya. I don't enjoy that shit. That's why I threatened ya like that. I figured somethin' big and scary would be the quickest way to get the job done without things gettin' ugly."

My jaw dropped in utter disbelief.

"Without getting ugly? You were going to fucking blind me!"

"But I didn't, did I?" he protested. "I could tell ya weren't trained for that kinda thing. You're just a scientist, right? I knew you'd give in, yo."

He was serious, I realized. That's why his expression looked so strange. It was sincere. No wonder, then, that I'd been so perplexed by it.

"And if I hadn't?"

"I would've cut ya real slow," he said calmly. "There would've been plenty of time to change your mind before it got bad."

The only sound that came out of my mouth was some kind of a strangled snort. I had no words. No words at all.

"I know it sounds kinda fucked up," he sighed, "and I guess it is. That's me, babe. That's Shinra." He laughed; a humorless, hollow sound. "Hell, that's the whole world right now. All fucked up."

The man actually looked ashamed. Sitting there in his wheelchair with bandages all over his thin body, shoulders slumped and head hanging, I almost felt sorry for him.

More than anything else, though, I was confused by his sudden confession, and suspicious of it.

"What brought this on?"

He shrugged and picked at the splint on his broken fingers. My eyes lingered on the injured digits. Right now, he had said.

"It's got something to do with whatever got you beaten up like this, doesn't it?"

Reno's fingers froze for a moment.

"I guess," he admitted. "This time, it got ugly."

I frowned again and let my gaze wander upward to study his face; as tired and joyless as his laughter only moments ago. I got the feeling he wasn't referring to his injuries. He had spoken those words with purpose, chosen them with care. Was he saying he'd done something he didn't want to? Had he hurt someone severely this time?

Was he looking for some kind of absolution? Forgiveness? What the hell made him think he'd get any from me? I huffed and leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest.

The Turk kept poking at the finger brace harder and harder, until he jabbed it hard enough to hurt, judging by the grimace that appeared on his face.

"Hey, stop that. You'll make it worse."

To my surprise, he didn't respond with a smartass remark. With a frustrated sigh, he wrapped his good hand around the armrest of the wheelchair instead. Moments later his fingertips were drumming out a muted staccato rhythm against the plastic.

Again, I wondered what had happened.

I considered what he had told me. It was "fucked up", as he'd described it, but I had to admit there was a twisted logic to his reasoning. Maybe Reno was telling the truth. Maybe he didn't enjoy hurting people. From what I'd seen, the man could be dangerous, brutal, even ruthless. His recent behavior didn't strike me as sadistic, though. Reno pushed my buttons, sure, but to be honest, most of the time his teasing was more akin to lighthearted ribbing than malice, especially since the tearful breakdown he'd induced.

It also seemed like he wasn't quite as heartless as his usual apathetic manner would suggest, and that a conscience was buried somewhere deep underneath that cocky bravado.

Then again, so what? In my book, there wasn't much of a difference between a bad guy and a nice guy doing bad things. Either way, people got hurt. The Turk may not have left physical scars on me, but waking up in a cold sweat from half-remembered nightmares? That was a big fucking problem, not to mention the lingering anxiety that followed me into the waking world.

My grim thoughts worsened my strained mood. The compulsive drumming wasn't helping, either. Ready to lash out, I jerked my head around to face him, only to find him staring at a spot on the floor, with an uncharacteristic, haunted look dimming his eyes. I hesitated. The man obviously had his own share of invisible damage.

"What about the next time you're ordered to hurt me, or someone else?" I had intended to ask him. "You will do it, even if it gets ugly, won't you?"

"I ended up here, because I was trying to save my world," I said instead.

I didn't enjoy hurting people either.

Reno raised his face, bewildered at first, as if he no longer remembered asking me the question. Then the expression shifted into one of surprise.

"Holy shit. Don't tell me you're one of 'em tree-hugger terrorists after all?"

There was a word that showed up in almost every conversation I'd overheard lately. First the buzz was about bombed reactors, then a whole part of the city itself. Now people saw eco terrorists everywhere.

"Oh, for crying out loud," I sighed. "This isn't about political ideals."

"Uh huh. That's what all of 'em say, if they ever stop yellin' 'bout suckin' the planet dry–"

"You want to hear this or not?" I snapped.

The Turk looked annoyed and at the verge of saying something, but instead pressed his lips into a thin line and crossed his arms over his chest. Leaning back in his wheelchair, he arched an eyebrow. I could barely keep myself from rolling my eyes at my petulant audience.

"Everyone knows Earth is dying," I said, after a moment's deliberate delay to see if the redhead would actually let me speak this time. "More and more crops are failing, and people are falling ill because of inadequate nutrients in what little we can still grow. The climate has been unstable for decades now and the storms are worse every year. It's only a matter of time."

I lifted my legs onto the bed and pulled them closer to sit cross-legged as I spoke, then rested my elbows on my thighs, hunching forward. I must have looked as dejected as I felt.

"Cobalt Industries does government-sanctioned research into ways to save humanity. Research on crops and soil improvement, mostly, but it also funds a number of more... experimental ideas." I sent a crooked smile his way. "Outlandish ones, some might say. Desperate plan Bs. Our project was one of them."

I rubbed my temples, debating what to tell the man, then sighed again. Pointless, all of it.

"According to my contract, I'm not allowed to speak freely about the Gateway project. I'm not even supposed to mention the name, but... Well, it doesn't matter much now, does it?"

I glanced up at the man in the wheelchair. His head was tilted to one side, showing a blank face. I had no idea what he was thinking. Reno could apparently be a decent listener, when he wanted to. He had made no attempt to interrupt as I spoke; just watched me with slightly narrowed, hooded eyes. He nodded, urging me to continue.

I took a deep breath and a moment to gather my thoughts.

"I'm a biologist, so I don't fully understand the technical details or the science behind it. My role was to study and predict the effects of various unusual forms of energy on organisms. Radiant energy, electromagnetic fields, that sort of thing. Basically, to evaluate the safety of Gateway travel."

I pushed my hands off of my knees and placed them behind me, leaning back. It had started when I was in my early twenties, finishing up my bachelor's degree, with more and more peculiar questions on biology, posed by Victor – my father's colleague and friend at the time. It felt like a lifetime ago. I tilted my head back, studying an unremarkable point near the ceiling while I tried to sum up nearly a decade of history.

"Victor was the visionary with the original idea. James lead the engineering team that built the Gateway itself. A device that would allow teleportation and, ultimately, even travel between worlds."

Even now, after all I'd been through, there was a note of incredulity in my voice. At times, it was easier to believe that I had been locked up in a mental hospital due to the imaginations of a deluded mind, rather than that I was on an interplanetary voyage gone wrong.

"Hypothetical worlds, at the time," I corrected myself. "The theories were intriguing, but we had no proof it would work, you see. When Victor first suggested it, I honestly thought it was nonsense. Crazy talk. I'm still amazed he got the funding for it." I chuckled. "Desperate times, desperate measures, I suppose. We still didn't know for sure if it would work when we were attacked. By terrorists."

I glanced over at Reno with a pointed smirk. The corner of his mouth twitched in response. Then my gaze dropped and the smile faltered.

"They call themselves Orca. A violent group who only care about saving themselves. Victor and I were in the labs when they invaded the facility. It all happened so fast. James..." I hesitated, swallowing hard. "James betrayed us. He disabled security so that Orca could just march in. We were defenseless."

My voice had nearly broken when I said his name, but when I continued it was cold and hard. I stared stubbornly at the insignificant spot on the wall, my hands twisting the fabric of the blanket as they balled into fists.

"While travel between worlds was still unproven, we'd had successful trials with short distance teleporting of simple, inanimate objects. Imagine that ability in the hands of a militant terrorist group. Victor and I decided to destroy the Gateway."

I paused, my brow scrunched up by the effort of trying to remember the details beyond the fear and panic. It was all so chaotic in my mind.

"When we got to the main lab, Victor surprised me. He pushed me into the Gateway chamber and barred the door. I guess he wanted to send me to safety first, but something went wrong. There was an explosion. Then..."

I gnawed on my lip in concentration, trying to discover any memories beyond that point.

"Then nothing," I exclaimed in frustration. "That's all I remember. Everything goes black and the next thing I know is waking up here."

"Huh," Reno said after a few seconds of silence. "Guess that explains the ring, yo."

"What?"

I gave him a mystified look and he gestured to my left hand. Oh. Right. If I squinted, I could still make out the faint outline around my left ring finger. An aggravating reminder of a broken heart and a naive dream of a better future. My jaw tightened and I turned my head toward the wall. My grief was my own business. It certainly wasn't the concern of a nosy, uninvited visitor.

"Is that all you have to say?" I asked, my voice flat.

"It's been botherin me, 'kay? It ain't the sorta thing someone does without a reason, y'know, but I couldn't figure it out."

"Well, I'm glad we were able to clear that up."

"Easy on the sarcasm, honey," Reno retorted, then continued with a more pensive tone after another brief pause. "This James dude, you said he built the thing?"

I nodded.

"Then why risk your lives to destroy the prototype? Won't he just make another one?"

"He can build a new Gateway, sure, but he can't use it without the right parameters. Vic is not only a physicist and mathematician, but a gifted programmer as well. He created most of the Gateway control systems, not James. We planned to wipe the local memory banks and fry the circuits for good measure."

I couldn't bring myself to say "was", even though that was far more likely. Not if I wanted to keep some semblance of dignity. Already, my chest felt tighter. I cleared my throat and continued.

"And... as brilliant as Vic is, he can also be neurotic, even paranoid. He kept the code base locked away off-site and used encrypted data to communicate with the Gateway." I sighed and shook my head. "I don't think even Vic expected something like this, though. To be stabbed in the back by our own."

It was odd. I was more affected by Victor's probable demise than the cruel end of a four-year-long relationship. I hadn't cried over James. I refused to.

"So, think there'll be more of ya droppin' by for a visit?"

That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? Not just for me, but for the security of my captors. I considered lying about it, but decided that, too, fell into the category of "pointless". The eagle-eyed Turk would pick up on it, anyway. I wasn't much of a liar.

"After all this time? Unlikely. Maybe the prototype was damaged beyond repair in the explosion. Or maybe I wasn't as important to them as I thought."

Bitterness twisted my attempt at an ironic smile into a sneer. I had alluded to Cobalt, but the face I saw in my mind's eye belonged to my deceitful engineer.

Reno tapped the armrest of his wheelchair with light fingertips as he digested my answers.

"Y'know, when you first talked 'bout Cobalt Industries and fancy research teams, I thought you were just another do-gooder with a grudge against Shinra, only with more imaginative lies than usual." He smirked. "Then, ya got started on secret projects and Earth and whatever the fuck. I decided you had to be totally nuts."

At least he was honest with his outspoken opinions. I supposed that counted for something.

"And now?"

It took great effort to remain still while the man examined me. I was glad my own gaze was already directed elsewhere. Unless I was spitting mad, I still had trouble meeting his eyes. Every time I avoided them, it felt like particularly aggravating – not to mention humiliating – proof of my acquiescence.

"Dunno. We couldn't find ya in our records. No name, no fingerprints, nothin'. Reeve says that suit ya came with has some pretty weird tech and we never figured out how you made it past all the security checks on the way to Hojo's lab, without bein' seen or picked up by any cameras."

He raked his undamaged hand through the mess on top of his head, lips pursed in deliberation. For a moment, I glimpsed the Turk at work and was struck by the intelligent spark that gleamed in his eyes.

"Then there's the stuff you don't know. I mean, who the fuck hasn't heard 'bout chocobos, right? I can tell ya somethin' real crazy and you don't even bat an eye. If all that's just an act, you should hit the fuckin' stage." He paused, flashing me a grin. "Just so ya know, ain't no chocobos with polka dots. No jungles north of Midgar with freaky statues of dudes with huge dongs, either. And Gold Saucer don't fly 'round the world."

My eyes narrowed as my cheeks heated up. "Oh, you little son of a..."

The man just shrugged.

"Hey, don't get mad, sweetie. Was just tryin' to figure things out. Testin' theories, y'know?"

The more I saw of Reno, the more I realized that the sloppy look and behavior were, at least to some extent, a deceptive impression he enjoyed cultivating. The man strived to be underestimated. I couldn't understand it.

"Your story's still pretty out there, but I've seen some of the weird shit the eggheads in our labs have come up with. I guess maybe it's possible you ain't a total nutjob after all."

My eyes were still averted, but I could hear the smirk in his lazy drawl toward the end.

"Hmph. Likewise, I suppose."

"C'mon, Fitz, what'd I tell ya 'bout sarcasm?" he chuckled. "Still, what I think don't matter much. 'Fraid you're still stuck in here 'til the big bosses say otherwise."

He'd been keeping his tone light, but for a second I thought I detected a sour note seeping in and sent him a curious glance. Then I realized what he'd said and tensed. Hojo had lost interest in me due to his conclusion that I was just a madwoman with a wild story. If he decided I was once again worth his time, or if one of the other higher-ups assumed a traveler from another world posed a threat...

Oh, no. Why hadn't I just kept my big mouth shut?

"I think I prefer to stay ignored," I said stiffly.

Reno gave me a long, thoughtful look.

"Y'know, I think you're right 'bout that," he agreed with unnerving sincerity, then cleared his throat. "I oughta get back before someone comes lookin' for me. See ya 'round."

With surprising speed and agility, he wheeled himself around and let himself out of the room, leaving me alone with a growing sense of unease.

Chapter Text

I spent much of the night tossing and turning in bed while the evening's conversation replayed over and over again in my head. I thought not only about my precarious situation within Shinra, but about the world I had been cast out from by a chance occurrence. The people I had left behind.

Victor and I had not had time to reach our goal before Orca arrived, yet the Gateway must have been damaged in the explosion. I had been here for months now, with no sign of a rescue – or capture by Orca.

In the early days of my imprisonment, I had contemplated information-gathering and study, with the assumption that I would eventually return home to Earth. With every day that passed, though, my hopes of that ever happening dwindled. Even if the Gateway was repaired, how would they ever find me? The explosion may have been the root cause of the whole misadventure, interfering with the jump sequence in unrepeatable ways. Even if Victor had entered some random parameters to send me somewhere, anywhere, the chances of them remaining – either in the physicist's memory or in that of the computer – were slim at best.

I had to assume I was here to stay, but what did that entail? As Reno had said, I was a ghost on this world. A literal alien with no identity, no credentials, no contacts. What future could I create for myself here? Was I doomed to spend the rest of my life as either a forgotten prisoner or a guinea pig in the clutches of twisted scientists?

I could feel myself begin to slip back into the old mental paralysis at the hopelessness of it all, but this time I struggled against it. It would have been easier to just give in and hide from reality, but I didn't want to return to that numb state. It wasn't me.

In a fit of frustration, I threw the covers onto the floor, then stomped out of my room with resolute steps. I had no idea what time it was, but the corridors were still dark. Staring down the silent hallway, my determination faltered. What exactly had I hoped to accomplish by marching out of my room in the middle of the night?

Lacking a plan, I drifted into the patient lounge and took a seat on the sofa. After a few minutes of aimless examination of its meager decor, I switched on the TV. It was less a conscious decision and more of a ritual. Amanda had fretted over my tendency to sit and stare at walls, so I'd humored her with the pretense of following the news.

Staring at walls. Christ! How many hours had I spent on the couch, lost in my own little world of nothing? I ground my teeth together and glared at the screen, determined to absorb its information this time.

It was a documentary of sorts. An extended news report serving as an introduction of Shinra's new president-to-be before his inauguration. Rufus Shinra, the son of the former President Shinra, was blessed with a handsome face and a charming smile. He looked very young, considering the prestigious post. In fact, he might have been younger than me, but his calculating eyes hinted at an ambition and political cunning that far surpassed mine.

As archived footage of the older and younger Shinra flitted across the screen, accompanied by the reporter's lauding of the accomplishments of both, I took note of a certain style of dark suit that showed up every now and then, worn by different men and women in the background. I wondered how many viewers would recognize a Turk from the uniform alone. Did the common Midgar resident see them merely as Shinra's elite security guards?

Once I even caught a glimpse of the unmistakable scarlet hair I had seen so often lately, complete with the slight smirk and casual pose masking the man's true nature. How odd, the idea of Reno as a bodyguard. He neither looked nor acted the part; not even while on the job, judging by the snippet of video.

The chatter from the TV faded to background noise as my thoughts returned to our discussion. The Turk had finally completed his original task: I had told him everything. While I wasn't paranoid enough to think it had all been an elaborate ruse to discover my secrets, I knew enough of the man to peg him as cunning opportunist who would take full advantage of every opening I was foolish enough to grant him.

What on earth had possessed me to confide in him? How stupid could I be? I knew what he was, for heaven's sake. I was just too damned trusting. So bloody gullible that I hadn't even seen that my own fiancé was–

The pang in my heart made me shove that train of thought off the tracks before it could go any further.

I should have been more careful, but I wasn't used to games of duplicity – unlike the Turk, no doubt. I'd been no match for him in the interrogation room and it seemed the same applied outside of it, too.

Reno seemed more inclined to believe me this time. What would he do with the information? I wasn't naive enough to trust his claim that he only wished to sate his own curiosity. Would the Turks come for me in the morning for further interrogation? Worse, would it be Hojo waiting for me?

I became aware of my fingers tapping my thighs in an irregular rhythm. I stopped, instead flattening my palms against the cushy seat of the sofa to force them still.

I should have been well accustomed to living with a constant sense of danger, but while even frequent natural disasters were unpredictable, one could at least prepare for such contingencies. The fickleness of human behavior, especially on a foreign world, was more of a mystery to me, full of caprice. I had no idea what to expect next. The uncertainty was unbearable, gnawing at my insides until I wanted to scream.

By the time the hallways of the ward began to fill with the sounds of the staff's morning routine, I had returned my room. I lay still in bed, tense and on edge, but when the door opened, it only revealed Amanda, who came to call me into the lounge for breakfast. The nurse flitted off to continue with her duties, but joined me at the small table halfway through my bowl of grayish porridge.

"Oh, I heard something that should cheer you up. Apparently that Turk will be released today, so you should get some peace and quiet from now on." Her brow knitted when I made no reply. "What's the matter? I thought you'd be pleased?"

So did I. It was what I had been waiting for. Why, then, was the joy not as strong as I'd expected?

"I am," I reassured her with a somewhat strained smile. "I'm just having trouble believing it."

Satisfied by my excuse, Amanda then proceeded to relay the latest batch of hearsay, much of it speculation on Shinra's next president. I listened, more for the soothing effect of her voice rather than any informational value. By the time she left to continue her duties, my gut had mostly unknotted itself.

Reno didn't make an appearance that day; I couldn't tell if that was a good sign or a bad one. When evening came, I was so exhausted by pointless conjecture that I collapsed into dreamless sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

In the morning, with the advantage of a fresh, rested mind, I decided to tackle the issue from another angle, by asking a simple question: if Victor had been sent here instead of me, what would he do? He was the one with the plans, the one who had always dreamed of seeing new worlds.

Vic would get out of this ward, for one. He would learn more about the world; gather information and then figure out how to use it. He would meet people and seek out contacts, play along, turn on the charm to make friends and allies.

God, how terrifying. There was a reason why Vic had been the one to gather sponsors and funding.

I couldn't rely on my old friend now. I couldn't keep on doing nothing, either. "Qui n'avance pas, recule," my mother would say from time to time when I was young. It had never made much sense to me at the time. Who does not move forward, steps back? It had sounded silly to the literal mind of a child. Now, however, that the proverb returned to me from forgotten recesses of my mind, its message was no longer so elusive.

I had already retreated too far, for too long. It was time to move forward, whatever the means.

The first step would be to stop wasting time and energy on speculation. I had no way of contacting Reno or influencing his actions, and therefore that particular aspect of my future was beyond my grasp. I needed to let it go.

The second step: leaving the ward. I quickly concluded that Reno was my best bet. Unlike Amanda, who was something of a stickler for the rules, the redhead held little regard for them. As a Turk, he also had the means to break them. The question was, could I persuade him to do so? Beat a Turk at his own game? Not bloody likely, but I could play along and see where it would take me.

Well, assuming the man would still be friendly the next time I saw him, that is. Assuming he would ever come back at all, now that he had completed his old mission.

A sardonic smile tugged at my lips. All this time spent wishing he'd go away, only to find a use for him just as soon as the man had been released, with no more reason to return.

Step three, then. Gathering information and meeting new people. The latter wasn't likely as long as I was confined to the ward, so I'd have to start with the former, using my two local sources. As the blonde nurse wasn't on shift yet, the news would have to suffice for now.

I had almost reached the patient lounge, when I froze mid-step upon seeing the red-haired devil himself enter the corridor at the other end. My pulse quickened while step two cavorted around my head, sending me needless reminders of my plan. I was too busy trying to figure out what to with my hands, though. All of a sudden the damned things had turned clammy and refused to stay still.

I would have made a terrible secret agent. I wondered if I was blushing too.

Reno was free of the wheelchair and somehow managed to instill a cocky swagger into the slight limp he sported.

"Hey, Fitz," he greeted as he approached.

It was too early for plans, anyway. I didn't know why the man had returned. I gave him a wary look, but the lopsided smile and lighthearted tone suggested nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, I knew how quickly that could change.

"Hey yourself. I see you're up and about now."

He looked down at himself with a happy sigh, carefully stretching out the leg that was no longer hampered by a cast.

"Yeah, 'bout fuckin' time too. I hope I never have to be stuck in a goddamn wheelchair ever again, yo."

Reno wouldn't act so amiable if he was fetching me for interrogation, would he? He couldn't be that cruel. With no obvious warnings signs on the horizon, I fell back upon the banter that had developed between us over the past few days.

"Mm, tell me about it. Was beginning to worry I'd never be rid of you. Although judging by the current evidence, that hasn't happened yet."

"Shut up, Doc, you of all people should be pleased," he chuckled, reacting in the manner I had come to expect, then produced the hands he had casually hidden behind his back to wave two paper cups in the air. "After all, it means I can get this for ya."

My eyes widened when a familiar and much longed for scent hit my nostrils.

"I don't believe it!" I cried, unable to stop the silly grin forming on my face. "You actually have coffee on this godforsaken world!"

After months without caffeine, I would have been prepared to consider a lifetime of indentured service in exchange for a cup of the liquid bliss. I therefore had no qualms about humbly accepting the Turk's charity. I snatched the cup he offered and held it up to my face. My eyes fell shut and a soft, appreciative purring sound escaped my throat as I inhaled deeply.

Beside me, Reno snickered. I could have sworn I detected a touch of satisfaction as well.

"Yeah. This place ain't quite as miserable as ya think, yo."

"Hm. I suppose next you'll tell me there's chocolate, too."

"Sure there is." He waggled his eyebrows in a conspiratorial manner. "Maybe I'll sneak ya some of that next time."

For the second time within a minute, I felt a pleasant jolt of surprise. The cocoa tree had been one of the first to suffer from Earth's changing climate. Chocolate still existed back home, but it was a pricy treat. The Turk may not have been serious about the offer, but the possibility, no matter how slim, tickled me with excitement.

"Next time" also implied his return. Step two of my scheme might yet be worth a shot.

"My word. Don't tell me you're developing an instinct for doing nice things."

I teased. I smiled. How easy it was to allow myself a playful mood, when encouraged by the miracle of coffee and promises of chocolatey goodness.

All joking aside, there was a palpable difference in my attitude, compared with as little as a week ago. Even before my decision to play along, Reno's jokes and relentless cheerfulness had begun to water down my snide remarks to a half-hearted formality. While my temper might flare from time to time and I tended to bite when provoked, I wasn't a confrontational person at heart. Prolonged animosity just wore me down.

Now, my retorts had lost the last of their sharp edge. I suspected my countenance had mellowed as well. Perhaps it was due to intense relief, combined with timid hope. Unless a cup of coffee was Gaia's equivalent of a last meal, the Turk had apparently decided to keep me under the radar for the time being.

Reno had no trouble picking up on my ameliorated frame of mind and seemed only too happy to play.

"Shit, I hope not," he gasped and pressed his free hand against his heart in feigned horror. "Might find myself without a job."

I laughed; a laugh untainted by irony or bitterness. Sheesh, how long had it been since one of those? Its ring sounded foreign to my ears.

What a topic to joke about, too. To hide the sudden mortification, I took a sip from my cup, rolling the liquid over my tongue before it trickled down my throat. Just as hot and bitter as the coffee back on Earth, but with an unusual undertone I couldn't identify. Not an unpleasant one, though.

"Can't stay long," Reno informed me. "The doc said I'm fit for duty, more or less, so it's back to the grind. Gonna be stuck in the office, tho'. Got paperwork stacked halfway to the ceiling waitin' for me on my desk."

As I listened and sipped more coffee, I let my eyes linger on the redhead before me. His hair was gathered into a thin tail that snaked down his back, but that was the full extent of his grooming efforts. The man carried his dark suit with just as much disregard for convention and elegance as before.

"Can't really imagine you as a desk jockey," I mused out loud.

The redhead made a sour face as he stirred his coffee with a wooden stick.

"You and me both, babe. Fuckin' sucks, but them's the breaks, yo."

Despite his slack posture, I found I had to tilt my head back a little if I wanted to look straight at his face. It felt strange; I had gotten used to him being seated in his wheelchair. I might have expected to be downright uncomfortable, seeing him on his own two feet and in full Turk uniform like the first time we met, but no such feelings manifested. Perhaps it was simply due to myself being upright and unfettered. Holding a cup of coffee, no less.

"I'm not your babe, Turk. I've got a name, you know."

He grinned and eyed me over the edge of his cup, taking the time to swallow a swig before responding.

"Deny it all ya want, but I know you love it, darlin'."

Maybe it was just the cheerful glint in his eyes. Reno may have been back on duty, but he wasn't visiting the ward as a Turk. I was surprised, to be honest. I would have thought his release from the infirmary would mean the end of his impromptu social calls.

I straightened my back and adopted a haughty air.

"I would rectify your sad delusions, but I have my first coffee of the year to enjoy. Priorities, you know."

"Uh huh. Keep tellin' yourself that, sweetie."

Now he was just winding me up. I shot him a glare before pointedly closing my eyes and taking a slow mouthful of the beverage. It had been far too long since I'd had a chance to indulge. Not even Reno's taunting could ruin the moment.

The gratification went deeper than just feeding an old addiction, though. Somehow, the familiar flavor alleviated the underlying alienation that never quite left me. With my eyes shut, I could almost imagine myself back in my coffee-scented kitchen. A twinge of sadness and longing joined the pleasure of the moment, resulting in bittersweet enjoyment that matched the drink's aroma.

"Well, break's over," Reno announced.

He threw back the last of his own coffee in one gulp and looked around for a trash can. Finding none within view, the redhead crushed the cardboard cup in his hand and tossed it under a nearby chair. He paused, then glanced over at me.

"Uh, don't tell Mandy that was me, 'kay?"

He was right to be worried. Amanda would definitely have a thing or several to say about inconsiderate jackasses who littered her corridors.

"Only if you promise there's more where this came from." I lifted my cup and gave it a small shake.

"It's a deal," he grinned with a sly wink. "See ya, Fitz."

I followed the man with pensive eyes as he waltzed down the corridor toward the exit, slowly swirling the dark liquid around its cup while my smile faded. I had mentioned my desire for coffee once, in passing. Reno was paying more attention to what I was saying than one might think from his careless demeanor alone, yet he hadn't even mentioned our previous conversation.

I wondered what to make of it. It couldn't be a genuine gesture of goodwill, could it? Was bribery a new tactic, employed to ease me into a more talkative mood? To talk about what, though? I had already told him about the Gateway, about my team and Orca's attack. What more could the Turk want from me?

Let it go, Tess. Just play along.

Adhering to my new motto, I sighed and headed toward the lounge, taking the time to retrieve Reno's discarded cup on the way. Not to keep him out of trouble or anything. For Amanda's sake. Of course.

Chapter Text

Reno didn't return the next day, nor the one after that. Once or twice, I caught myself wondering where he was. Maybe, just maybe, even missing his company. I knew little of psychology – when it came to the inner workings of a human being, my expertise was limited to the cellular level – but two words came to me. Stockholm syndrome. I groaned.

I felt just the smallest twinge of relief when I finally spotted the flaming mane out of the corner of my eye as I sat in my usual spot on the lounge couch. These days I was aware enough to notice just how dull my existence had become without his visits.

There was also the fact that my unformulated plan – well, more like a vague hope – of using the man to get out of the ward required his presence. On that point, though, Reno was once again way ahead of me.

"Here," he said, shoving a backpack into my arms. "There's clothes and stuff in there. Make yourself look good."

I was too mystified to come up with a biting retort to the last part.

"What's going on?" I asked, eyeing the bag with overt suspicion.

"I'm takin' ya out for lunch, yo."

The Turk said it as if it was a normal, everyday occurrence. I stared at him, wondering if there existed a version of the Freudian slip that made one mishear words instead of misspeaking them.

"What?"

"Lunch! Y'know, food. Real food. Well, just café food really, but better than the crap they serve here, that's for sure. They got decent enough coffee too, yo."

That was far too many sentences for an auditory misunderstanding.

"You're taking me out for lunch," I repeated, stunned.

Reno groaned, took the few steps necessary to reach the hallway bathroom, then yanked the door open and waved me in.

"I ain't takin' ya anywhere if you're just gonna sit there like a goddamn idiot. C'mon, in ya go."

I looked at the man. I glanced down at the bag in my lap. I looked up again, noting an exasperated expression forming on the redhead's face, and thought it best to do as he said. Perhaps I'd be able to think in the privacy of the bathroom, shielded from exuberant and perpetually baffling Turks.

Once I had closed the door behind me, I took a moment to review the conversation in my head. Lunch. Café. Clothes. Overwhelmed by excited curiosity, I set the bag down on the toilet seat to examine its contents.

He hadn't been joking. The bag contained a selection of cosmetics and other bits and bobs required to make oneself presentable. I took the items out one by one and stacked them on the sink. None of the makeup brands were familiar, although each one of the tiny containers had their equivalents back home on Earth.

I even found a disposable razor. I guess the Turk figured it wouldn't make much of a weapon in my hands. As much as it irked me to admit it, he was right about that.

The change of clothes was placed at the bottom of the backpack. My eyebrows shot up upon the discovery of rather sensual lingerie, trimmed with lace.

"Did you pick this outfit?" I asked through the door.

"Nah, got Laney to do it," came the muffled reply.

"Laney?"

"Yeah, guess you haven't met. She's new, so she's eager to please and doesn't ask too many questions when a senior Turk wants somethin' done."

I supposed that made the situation a bit less awkward.

Now that I had adjusted to this unexpected turn of events, I couldn't tear the awful hospital pajamas off my body quickly enough. My first action was to dab perfume onto my wrists and neck. I was beyond sick of the subtly repulsive, sterile smell of hospital soap. As a floral scent saturated my nostrils, I sighed with contentment and ran my fingers over the bristles of a hair brush, then scrunched up the pantyhose in my hand. To think that one could derive such happiness from these mundane sensations.

"Laney didn't find it odd to go clothes shopping for a senior Turk?" I asked as I looked over the bag's contents one more time, debating what to do next.

"Nope! It ain't that weird, tho'. Every now and then we need clothes for undercover and shit like that."

"Hm. Do you often dress up as a woman for undercover work, then?" I deadpanned, holding up the pinstripe pencil skirt for inspection.

"Shut up, Fitz," he shot back, though I could hear the amusement in his tone. "Sometimes we need disguises for VIPs, too."

"I'm a VIP now?" I muttered to myself. "How flattering."

I put the razor to good use, then slipped into the clothing, taking the time to enjoy every part of the process. I would never take the pleasure of having proper clothes for granted again.

Once dressed, I adjusted the skirt and smoothed out the white shirt, taking a moment to inspect the outfit in the mirror. The look was rather... administrative. It was completely unlike my style, but I wouldn't have called it unflattering. The fitted garments were made from quality materials and accentuated my figure. Then again, most things compared favorably to the baggy patient clothes I'd been forced to wear for far too long.

"How did you know my size, anyway?" I asked, craning my neck to look at myself sideways as I ran a hand over my stomach.

"I just took a closer look at that black thing you wore under your armor. It's a pretty tight fit, as I remember it."

"Huh. Clever."

So, the undersuit still existed. My insides twisted as I recalled how it had been taken from me, but I slapped down the memories before they could overwhelm me. Now was not the time; not when I was so close to leaving the ward.

While I applied what I hoped would be an acceptable minimum of makeup, I wondered about the rest of my old hazard suit. Was it still in one piece, or had they taken it apart for study? I wished I could have worn it instead. I could have done with the comfort of its protection, no matter how unsuitable an armored suit was for the occasion.

My hair received a critical examination, followed by a frown of disapproval. After months without a haircut, it had reached the accursed limbo between long and short, which in my case also meant unruly waves that pointed this way and that. "My little hobbit", Dad would call me as a kid, often as he ruffled my hair deeper into chaos. I blew a few dark curls out of my eyes with a deep sigh. Right now, I definitely looked the part of Dad's little hobbit.

There was no way to style that mess into anything elegant. I ran the brush through it a few times, then scooped it up into a tiny ponytail and twisted it into an even tinier bun. Most of the shorter strands were brought under control with bobby pins this "Laney" had been thoughtful enough to provide. It would have to do.

I slipped into the black pumps, then opened the door and tottered out. It had been months since I last wore shoes. I couldn't even remember when I had last worn heels like these.

Reno, who was leaning with one shoulder against the wall, tilted his head to the side and appraised me with half-lidded eyes.

"Yeah, that oughta work," he approved, then looked up at my expression and smiled. "Don't like it?"

"I look like a secretary," I complained.

"That's the idea, babe. HQ is full of foxy secretaries. No one's gonna think twice if they see one of 'em tailin' ol' Reno again."

I responded to his wink with a quirked eyebrow and an unimpressed look. There was likely some measure of truth behind the cockiness, though, especially if one was to believe Amanda's gossip. That pretty face together with a generous helping of bad boy charm was bound to be a devastating combo. He had even managed to send a slight blush to my cheeks with that wink and impish smile.

"'Kay, some ground rules," Reno began while we walked toward the exit. "Follow my lead and do as I say. Leave the talkin' to me. If anyone asks ya directly, you're a secretary lucky enough to score a date with the sexiest of the Turks."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Oh, for the love of..."

"Hey, gotta have somethin' simple and easy to believe as a cover story," he said with a grin. "Right, so, don't say nothin' 'bout who you are and for fuck's sake, don't give 'em your real name."

"I feel like I'm in a spy movie," I muttered, glancing over my shoulder.

"Well, this ain't exactly an official operation. If anyone out there realizes who you are, it's my ass on the line, so be good, 'kay?"

That didn't reassure me. What was I getting myself into?

"Got steak in this café of yours? This lunch had better be worth the effort."

Reno chuckled. "'Fraid the best I can do today is meatballs."

The surprise almost had me freeze to the spot midstep. I turned my head to face him fully, staring at the man with wide eyes.

"Holy shit, you do have meat?"

The steak comment had just been a joke. Back home, meat production was close to nonexistent these days, resulting in exorbitant prices on the rare occasions it was available. The last time I had eaten a steak must have been more than three years ago by now, when James and I had decided to celebrate our first anniversary in style at one of the better restaurants in town.

The redhead gave me an odd look.

"Uh, sure we do. What, they don't feed ya meat in the ward?"

My laugh was somewhere between astonished and elated.

"I don't have a clue what they serve us most of the time. Nothing recognizable as meat, that's for sure."

Reno shook his head, but the dubious look in his eyes was joined by a crooked smile.

"Sheesh. Well, guess you're in for a treat then, Doc."

We reached the main doors to the patient block. This was as far as I had been able to go since I first woke up here. Apprehension bloomed in my chest as the Turk pulled a keycard through the lock and typed in a code. Only when the doors slid open with a quiet hiss did I realize I had been holding my breath.

"Oh, and just for the record," he added as I took my first tentative steps into the outside world, "the security in HQ is top notch and I'm hella fast even with one leg on the mend. No point tryin' to run."

"In these shoes? Not bloody likely," I mumbled, scanning the names by the doors along the hallway. Offices and other facilities for the staff, by the looks of it.

He studied me for a moment, then nodded and flashed a toothy grin.

"Chin up, Fitz! This'll be fun, yo."

The sparkle in his eyes was a little too devious for my comfort, but I had to admit an almost childlike excitement was eager to bubble to the surface. I would finally see more than the boring walls of the hospital floor. I would see new places, new people. I would eat proper food.

The corridor had been empty, but elevator that arrived brought me face to face with several passengers. I must have made a convincing impression of a deer caught in the headlights, but when the Turk strolled inside, I scurried after him and huddled into a corner. Reno positioned himself between me and the three others in the small space, obscuring me from their view. It was a needless precaution, since the group had barely glanced at us as we entered, but I was glad for the chance to let my pulse slow down in relative seclusion.

"Relax," the Turk admonished once the others stepped out the elevator a few floors later. "It's just lunch. Be yourself. Act natural."

"Natural? I'm not sure I know what that is anymore."

"Sure ya do. Chat. Smile. Laugh." He glanced at me and waggled his eyebrows. "Flirt."

I scoffed and shook my head, but the man had a point. I rolled my shoulders to release the tension and lifted my head higher, steeling myself for what was to come. I was bound to face more than a three strangers once we reached our destination.

When the elevator stopped for the second time, the doors slid open to reveal the cafeteria. Despite my best intentions, I slowed to a halt and stared as soon as we had entered the room.

It wasn't the vast open space that caught my eye, nor the few dozen people present for an early lunch. It wasn't even the array of edibles arranged along the serving counter of the cafeteria. No, what captivated me was the enormous tree sprouting in the middle of the room, tall enough to brush the ceiling high above us.

There were no windows; no sources of natural light that I could see. The container was covered by entwined roots, to the point of no evidence of any soil beneath them, yet despite the artificial conditions, the tree was thriving. Its branches created a thick canopy of bright green leaves, offering the closest circle of tables a soothing shade from the fluorescent lights.

How was this possible? How had these people managed to cultivate a flourishing tree in such unfavorable conditions, when my planet struggled to grow anything at all?

"C'mon, keep movin'. You can gawk at the tree later, yo."

The humor in Reno's voice was tinted by a note of satisfaction. Reluctantly, I tore my eyes from the sight and followed the redhead toward the lunch café.

"What kind of tree is it?" I asked, stealing furtive glances upward as we joined the short queue.

"I dunno," he answered with a shrug. "Who cares? It's just a tree."

"I'm a biologist," I sighed. "Of course I care."

"Well, can't help ya there," he said breezily, picking up a tray. "Right, time to load up. Grab whatever ya want."

"You might come to regret that suggestion," I noted, my attention now focused on the salad bar.

"That so? Feelin' peckish, are we?"

"Try greedy like a little, fluffy-tailed squirrel in winter. I can't remember when I last saw this many kinds of fresh fruit. In fact, I don't think I ever have."

"Knock yourself out, babe," he chuckled. "You ain't gonna clean me out in a freakin' lunch café, yo."

That was all the encouragement I needed. One of each kind of fruit – some more or less familiar, while others were utterly foreign – found their way onto my tray, along with a spoonful from every container in the salad bar. To complete the sampler of the cafeteria's spread, I crowned it all with an ample serving of meatballs. The scent alone made me weak at the knees.

The odd look from the cashier, before she was distracted by Reno's charming smile and chitchat, didn't faze me in the slightest. I refused to let anyone or anything lessen the enjoyment of my first decent meal in years.

"Damn," he sniggered once we'd sat down at a free table by the tree, eyeing my tray. "It ain't often I meet someone with a bigger appetite than mine, yo."

The lunch I had cobbled together was indeed more impressive in size than his, though not as much as one might have expected with a slim guy like Reno.

"I warned you, didn't I? Give me an opportunity like this and I will definitely take it." I scanned the food on my plate with a wolfish grin. "You never see something like this back home."

"I get it," he said with half a smile. "Used to do the same for years. Slum kid thing, y'know."

I wouldn't have called my life on Earth bereft, but I suppose there was a certain similarity, considering the cost of food and the ever diminishing variety. It was an interesting comparison, but one that would have to wait for another time. Right now I had meatballs to devour.

I sliced one of them in two and popped one half in my mouth, then closed my eyes and let the flavors on my tongue overwhelm me. I chewed slowly, savoring every aspect of the sensations, from the grainy texture to the spicy seasoning. The next ten minutes or so were spent going through every single item on my plate in a similar way, exploring every savory, sweet, acidic, sharp and subtle taste. Some of the food, like the meatballs, were just as I would have expected of their Earth equivalent. Others surprised me with familiar flavors in new packaging, such as the purple apple.

The redhead allowed me to conduct my culinary research in peace, content to just observe with that hint of a smile that rarely left his face. It struck me more as a mask than an expression. I could never tell what thoughts it might be hiding. Once my most compelling cravings were sated, I decided to inquire.

"So, to what do I owe the honor of all..." I glanced around, gesturing to my tray and the room in general. "All this?"

"No reason," he said, shrugging. "I didn't wanna eat alone and you needed a decent meal for once. That's it."

"Oh, really? All that trouble, just to get a lunch date? Don't tell me you're that desperate."

Attempting to play the role that had been bestowed upon me, my tone was one of light teasing. Reno returned in kind.

"You're worth it, baby," he drawled.

I shook my head, though a small smile played on my lips. "Come on, Reno."

He leaned back in his chair and threw up his hands in a mild huff.

"What, is it that hard to believe I might wanna do somethin' nice for someone? I saw a chance and I took it. Much like you in the queue a few minutes ago. What's wrong with that?"

I thought it best to withhold honest answers his questions.

"A chance?" I asked instead. "What do you mean?"

Reno propped one elbow over the back of the chair and rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful.

"Well, between us gettin' a new Prez and Hojo ditchin' the company, there's plenty of excitement for people to talk 'bout. Don't have to worry 'bout the gossips noticin' my date while snoopin' around for new material, yo."

The second piece of news caught my attention, but thinking about that horrible man was not conducive to an enjoyable meal. Yet another nugget of information to be filed away for later analysis.

"Afraid of being seen with me? Are you saying I don't live up to your usual standards?"

It was just something I blurted out in my rush to steer the topic away from the ghastly scientist. I felt like an idiot as soon as the quip left my lips. It was obvious that I didn't measure up to the other women I had seen so far, with their perfect hair and makeup. Why on earth would I draw attention to that fact?

The redhead smirked.

"More like the opposite, sweetheart, but the idea is to avoid attention, remember?"

Well, how about that. Guess the man was capable of mercy after all.

"I'll grab us some coffee," he declared, pushing the chair back to give his newly healed leg a quick stretch before rising to his feet. "You sit tight, 'kay?"

I hummed in agreement, unsated by the meager results of my enquiry but unable to see a way to get straight answers. Not for a second did I believe that Reno was doing all this just out of the kindness of his heart. In fact, I wasn't even sure he had one. What could I do, though? The man was not inclined to divulge his motivations and I wasn't wily enough to trick them out of him.

As I waited, my gaze wandered up along the trunk of the tree and my mind shifted to idle efforts to classify the species. It reminded me of the artfully shaped bonsai pines I had seen in pictures, though this one was on a whole different scale. Had I been given the opportunity to put some of its cells under a microscope I could have said more, but this was pretty much the full extent of my visual analysis on a macroscopic level.

Despite what I had told Reno earlier, botany was not one of my usual fields of interest. Earth was already full of biologists trying to solve the mystery of our failing agriculture. The ones studying the effects of recent anomalies in radiation levels and electromagnetic fields, both natural and artificial, were few and far between. How typical, then, that it was one of the latter who had ended up on a world with horticultural wonders.

I sighed and turned my attention to the people. No one had occupied any of the closest tables. I wondered if that was a coincidence or if the rumors surrounding the Turks kept other employees at bay. In any case, I was grateful. Reno had brought us to lunch early, but the noise level was already on the verge of being too intense for me after the tranquility of the ward. It would take a while to get used to seeing so many faces around me again.

As I scanned my surroundings, I realized that disregarding the giant bonsai and the meat on the menu, it wasn't difficult to imagine myself back on Earth. People looked the same; their gestures and mannerisms were much the same, too. The differences in fashion were no greater than one might expect on a trip to a foreign country. They likely found me no different, either, considering nobody was paying me any attention. What a strange thought. I wondered if spies among the enemy felt as alienated as I did.

Reno returned, holding a cup in each hand.

"I have a hard time picturing you going undercover," I remarked as I accepted one of them, still mulling over my previous line of thought.

He draped himself over his chair, his face split in a wide grin.

"And why d'ya say that?"

"Because you're so... You know. Memorable. You stick out like a sore thumb."

"Memorable, huh?" He took a swig of his coffee, then set it down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Well, darlin', I'll let ya in on a secret. That's the point, yo."

He had lost me already. The Turk was far more well-versed in the intricacies of the human mind than I was, especially when it came to practical applications.

He was watching me, waiting for something. Possibly the very question I posed next.

"What do you mean?"

"See, when I'm out there on the streets, I want the bad guys to go 'oh shit, there's that Reno dude, he's real bad news' as soon as they lay eyes on me. Saves me trouble in the long run. 'Sides, chicks love the hair."

He winked and I rolled my eyes, more out of habit than anything. Reno didn't seem to mind, though.

"Okay, so what happens when you go undercover?"

"Oh, baby, that's when the magic happens," he drawled with devilish glee. "I do some of my best work under the covers."

"Oh, for god's sake," I groaned, dropping my face into my palm. I had walked straight into that one.

He sniggered, pushing himself off the table to slouch back in the chair, coffee in hand.

"C'mon, you think I'm gonna spill all my secrets?"

"I'm just curious. Doesn't all this," I waved in his general direction, "make disguises harder?"

"It helps, actually. When people look at me, they just see the hair, the goggles, the suit and the attitude. If I wanna be someone else, all it takes is some hair dye, a fuckton of gel and a change of clothes."

I raised my eyebrows, eyeing the unruly mop trying to escape the hold of his goggles.

"I would've thought you already use a fuckton of gel."

"Less than ya might think, yo. My hair's a natural match for my personality."

To prove it, he reached up and ruffled the back of his head, making the soft spikes stand up even more.

"Mm, I see. Crazed and unmanageable."

"I was thinkin' more like 'totally awesome', but eh, close enough," he said, grinning. "Then I just gotta remember to stand stiff as a board and talk like some fancy-pants bigwig. Ta-da, instant business twerp. Works like a charm."

"You, talking like a fancy-pants bigwig," I repeated with no small amount of doubt, recalling the refined manner of speech used by the younger Shinra in one of the TV interviews.

"You betcha. The standing up straight part sucks, tho'. Good thing it don't come up that much."

I shook my head as I swallowed a sip of my coffee, unsure of what amused me more: the idea of Reno in a properly worn suit, pretending to be a straight-laced office slave, or him straining to form sentences without abusing the language.

Once the coffee was gone, our lunch was at an end. I obediently returned to the hospital ward, memorizing floor numbers and routes on the way – rash actions would get me nowhere. The clothes I relinquished with much more reluctance, comforted only by the Turk's breezy promise that we'd do this again some time. I hoped he would keep his word.

Later that evening, sleep eluded me. After a life spent dodging one small natural disaster after another, with the final big one already looming on the horizon, I had learned to enjoy the little things whenever I could. That was what I had done today, but now that my thoughts were all the company I had, I became more and more uncomfortable with my strange circumstances. The excursion may have matched the goal of step two in my plan, but otherwise it had nothing to do with my agenda. Reno had orchestrated it all.

I thought of the effort he had gone through to smuggle me out for something as insignificant as a lunch and wondered what he was up to. It was one thing to be hounded by a Turk when few other amusements were available to the man. It was quite another to not only remain within Reno's attention span after he was free to go where he pleased, but to be treated with kindness, even some level of respect.

Well, more like a semblance of decency. The choice I had been offered today was not so different from the one he had given me in the interrogation room. Give us the suit, or we take it off you. Have lunch with me, or eat gruel alone in the ward. Cosmetic decisions, both of them. I would have lost the suit either way. Lunch or no, I was still a captive at the end of the day.

Play along; that was the idea, but I couldn't help but wonder if it would just sink me deep into worse kinds of trouble. The man had to be aware of the power he held over me. When would he choose to abuse it?

I eventually drifted off into restless sleep, only to start awake in a cold sweat, trembling; still seeing eyes with the color and warmth of glaciers bore into my soul as sharp steel slashed my flesh.

Chapter Text

The Turk was true to his word. He and the backpack made another appearance the following day. Soon we found ourselves seated in one of the quieter nooks of the cafeteria.

I was more restrained this time, still enduring the after-effects of yesterday's lunch in the form of a rather distended belly. Nonetheless, the heap of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and peas on my plate was generous by any standards.

Well, "chicken". I wasn't sure they even had chickens on this world, but that was what it tasted like, seasoned with a spicy rub that made my tongue tingle.

The contents of our trays disappeared at a steady pace while we – mostly he – chatted. The topics were lighthearted, humorous ones, but they couldn't disperse the shadow in the back of my mind. The elusive nature of Reno's motives bothered me, almost as much as being dependent on his charity.

"Hang on, you climb mountains?" he asked, with a bit too much skepticism for my liking.

It was a fact I had just revealed in an offhand remark, after the man had mentioned the existence of mountains south of Midgar.

"I used to enjoy it quite a bit, yes. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Just a surprise, is all."

I looked down at my fingers, flexing them. How weak and useless they felt now, after so many months of little use. The shadow deepened.

"I doubt I'd be up for it now," I muttered.

"Who'd ya climb with?" Reno made a face and continued before I had a chance to answer. "Not James, was it? Don't tell me it was some kinda lovey-dovey 'couple activity'."

I snorted at the idea of dragging James into the wild. I hadn't been able to lure the man out for a small hike, much less for scaling giant rocks.

"No, not... him. My sister."

My chest felt tight, making me regret the slip of personal information. I hadn't expected Reno to be so fascinated by an old hobby, nor that his enquiries would stir so many unwanted feelings.

"Huh," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Didn't know you have a sister."

My jaw tightened, but I forced a small smile.

"You never asked."

"Yeah, well, figured you were sick of my questions. Didn't wanna upset ya."

His voice was nonchalant. His eyes, perhaps less so; but I was unable to identify the sentiment that flitted across them.

"Upset me?" I scoffed, eager to steer the conversation away from more sensitive matters. "You've been driving me crazy most of the time."

Reno shrugged.

"It was the only way I could get ya to look at me."

While a moment ago they had seemed detached, now his eyes gained a candid quality that perturbed me. Suddenly very aware of the fact that I had been looking into them for almost a minute straight, I snapped my gaze downward.

"Hey," he called, a split-second before something bounced off the top of my head. "Stop that."

I glanced up just as a second projectile struck my forehead, then proceeded to land on and roll across the table. Peas, this time. He must have run out of paperclips.

The red-haired pest toyed with a third one in his fingers, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Stop it," I spat, glaring.

Reno grinned and popped the pea in his mouth.

"That's more like it, Doc."

He reeked of self-satisfaction. I huffed and threw up my hands.

"What's that supposed to mean? You want me to be angry with you?"

He tilted his head to the side and observed me for a few moments, then shrugged again.

"Eh, dunno. I guess. This tame, spineless bullcrap don't suit ya. Back when we first met, there was goddamn fire in those pretty eyes of yours. That's what I wanna see."

I stared at him, stunned, then shook my head in disbelief.

"I would've thought you'd be proud of your work."

Still annoyed by his barrage of peas, I had lashed out before thinking. A stillness came over the man. The smile stayed on his face, but it changed.

"You really wanna go down that road right now?"

It was a rhetorical question; a warning. I averted my eyes and instead took in the people around us, having their lunch just like every other day. Transitory prisoners of the Shinra tower by the obligations of their contracts, but once their work was done for the day, they could leave and go about their lives. Do whatever they enjoyed doing. See their families and friends.

My fingers curled up into fists in my lap as I scanned the room again. Every smiling, carefree face seemed to mock me.

Thirteen months, Amanda had told me when I asked the other day. A whole year of my life, completely wasted by staring at the walls in a psych ward, all because of Shinra's baseless assumptions and fears. Because of the Turk in front of me, now acting the benevolent master of my strings, expecting me to smile and dance at his command.

"Why do you keep doing this?"

"Ease up, sweetheart. Let's just enjoy the food, yeah?"

He kept his voice light, but I noticed the wariness in the tilt of his head, in his eyes. The fact that I could pick up on it made me suspect it was intentional. Another warning.

It only irked me more. I had never made a very good puppet.

"I don't understand why you're doing any of this, why you're being nice to me. What do you want from me?"

His eyes narrowed in a frown; a more explicit sign of danger.

"Honey, I don't need to explain myself to ya."

While it had never been wise to throw such a remark in my face, in a former life I would have been able to counter it with cool dignity. Once upon a time, before the horrors of Shinra had been foisted on me, I had been perfectly able to control my temper. In my current frame of mind, though, Reno's arrogant dismissal was all it took to make me see red.

"Oh, I'm exactly the one you need to explain yourself to," I hissed. "Or is this some twisted mind game? Keep me guessing? Trying to ingratiate yourself and get me to spill some secret about 'avalanche' or whatever it is you think I am these days, is that it? Will the knife come out again when you finally decide I'm giving you the wrong fucking answers?"

"Shut up. Right now."

The words meant nothing. It was the glacial glare that made me snap my mouth shut. For a terrible second it sent me back to the interrogation room, strapped to the chair and at his mercy. My breath caught in my throat, my lungs frozen in temporary paralysis.

With a strangled gasp, I tore my eyes from his. My gaze fled to the plate before me, my nostrils flaring as I tried to do my agitated breathing through my nose.

"You're drawin' attention to us. We don't want that. Have a drink of water."

Automatically I obeyed, lifting the glass and choking down a sip. Not the easiest task, considering my heart had jumped into my throat.

Reno's voice softened as he continued the steady stream of instructions.

"For fuck's sake, quit actin' like I'm gonna punch ya in the face or somethin'. That ain't gonna happen. I just need ya to keep your voice down. Be chill, all right? This ain't the time or place to lose your head."

The man was right about the last part; rationally, I was aware of that. It was harder to convince my pounding heart to slow down. Perhaps Reno knew it too, because he kept speaking in a calm, quiet tone that was completely at odds with his flamboyant nature.

"Breathe, Fitz, nice and easy. Shit, I didn't mean to scare ya like this. It's okay, no one's gonna hurt ya. I ain't used to watchin' my mouth for the sake of bein' nice, is all."

The breathing was easier now. My fists loosened and I raised my gaze from the table to somewhere around his chest. It was the best I could manage.

"Look," Reno sighed, "I know you don't trust me and I don't blame ya one bit, but I ain't playin' games with ya. Sure, I wanted to see how you'd react to somethin' normal like havin' lunch in a cafeteria, but that ain't so bad, is it?"

So, he did have an ulterior motive, again. Being proven right didn't feel as good as I might have expected.

"Oh, I'm just your personal lab rat now. Well, that's all right, then."

"C'mon, babe, don't be like that. We both had a good time yesterday, right?"

It had been a good time, I couldn't deny that. If only everything else wasn't so bloody complicated.

"I'm just curious, all right?" he continued. "You're one helluva mystery, y'know. I dunno where you come from, but it ain't AVALANCHE, old or new. It sure ain't Midgar either. I do know your DNA is human, which is frickin' weird if what you say is true."

Such a straightforward answer after the constant dodging? A worryingly paranoid part of me whispered that the man was only telling me what I wanted and expected to hear, but I hushed that inner voice. I already had too many uncertainties to contend with and that level of unchecked doubt would only lead to a quick descent into madness.

"That's the part I have the most trouble with myself," I mumbled. "So, you know about that."

"I read your file."

There was a file now? A sense of foreboding made my stomach flutter with unease. I suspected I wouldn't like what was in that file, but I had to ask.

"And what else did you learn from this file?"

I heard Reno release a slow exhale. I could imagine how his eyes, half-lidded to disguise the sharpness that missed nothing, would narrow as he pondered how much to reveal to me.

"Pretty much just what I already told ya. I guess Hojo lost interest after the tests said you're as human as the rest of us."

I stiffened. Hojo's test results. If that was in the file, it was more than likely that there were also protocols of what had been done to me. The whole degrading experience typed out in an impersonal, uncaring report for anyone to see.

"The pics were corrupted in some freak glitch, by the way. They're all gone."

The pictures. Oh god, I had forgotten about the pictures. I felt the blood drain from my face and my arms shifted in my lap to wrap around my waist. It was bad enough to have it recorded in words. The thought of anyone seeing those photos made me sick.

Then the rest of Reno's comment sank in. I sent a timid glance his way as I caught wind of the hidden meaning.

"This glitch... Did it happen while you were reading the file?"

The Turk smirked and leaned back in his seat, clasping his hands behind his head.

"Y'know, that's exactly how it went down. Computers, eh? You'd think they'd have ironed out the kinks by now, yo."

It was a relief, I supposed, but it didn't erase the fact that they had been taken in the first place. I swallowed hard, hugging myself tighter.

"If it helps, the logs say only Hojo and a couple of his assistants had accessed that file. They're the only ones who saw 'em."

"And you," I whispered.

He was silent for a while before answering.

"Yeah. And me."

His voice was carefully neutral. I appreciated the effort, but I still felt humiliated.

My brow furrowed as another thought occurred to me.

"If there are logs, won't you get into trouble?"

"Doc, please," he scoffed. "I'm a pro. I don't leave trails like that."

The Turk's words exuded cocky confidence, but when he next spoke, it had disappeared.

"Look, I don't usually bother to apologize for the dumb shit I say or do, but I'm real fuckin' sorry I said you were anythin' like Hojo. I hadn't seen the file yet. I didn't know you'd been handed over to that sick fuck."

Now there was a word I would never have thought I would hear from his mouth. How odd to receive a heartfelt apology from the man, after countless occasions of teasing and deliberate aggravation. Stranger still was the reaction it evoked in me; some of the weight lifted from my shoulders while a warm sensation spread in my chest, allaying the hurt.

Regardless of our history, the man deserved some measure of forgiveness; for the offering of remorse, for deleting the photos. Hell, for breathing some life into my resigned spirit, whatever his reasons were. Gathering my courage, I pushed my gaze higher. His eyes brightened as mine met them for longer than just a fleeting peek.

"I guess it brought back the fire," I said, summoning up a ghost of a smile.

Reno returned the gesture with a lopsided tug of his lips.

"Yeah. That it did." He scratched behind his ear and the smile widened to a silly grin. "Uh, hey, want some chocolate? I hear that's what you're s'posed to give girls when you wanna cheer 'em up?"

The adorable lack of tact broke through my discomfort. I snorted softly and lifted a hand to cover my mouth, nodding as I tried to stifle the sudden bout of giggles.

"One chocolate bar, comin' right up," Reno announced, unfolding his body from the chair with careless grace. "Won't be a sec."

I let my hands fall down to rest in my lap as I awaited the man's return. The intense emotions were already fading, leaving me drained and vulnerable. For better and worse, Reno's company was never a lukewarm experience.

I lifted my gaze to the foliage above, seeking solace in the life of its lush greenery. It still amazed me that a tree could grow with such vibrancy in these unnatural conditions. The view instilled in me a sense of hope I had feared was long gone. Yet another experience owed to the lanky Turk.

Movement in the corner of my eye made me lower my face to discover a woman dressed in a chic outfit consisting of a teal skirt and matching fitted jacket. She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight onto one leg, tapping on the floor with the other foot.

Remembering Reno's instructions, I didn't speak, but gave her a steady, although quizzical look.

"So, he's found a new plaything, has he? The shifty jerk doesn't waste time."

I blinked. The lunch had already taken a turn toward unpredictable and, judging by this stranger's choice of introduction, was now careening toward the absurd.

"Excuse me?"

In the background, I saw the Turk turn away from the café's serving counter and do a double take as he spotted the woman by our table. The look on his face came close to launching me into another giggling fit, but fortunately I was able to control myself this time. I doubted this woman would have taken it well.

The woman looked me over with a sour expression twisting her delicate features. She did not seem impressed.

"I hope you haven't fallen for the bastard," she sneered with false pity. "Reno's only after one thing."

Oh boy. This was bound to get awkward. Deeply unwilling to get dragged into this mess, I shifted my incredulous gaze over to the man in question, who had returned with more urgency than usual in his swagger. He lifted his eyebrows in a quick apology, then plastered on a charming grin and turned his attention to whom I could only assume was a woman scorned.

"Hey there, darlin'. Met ya at the Yuletide party, right?"

The Turk's greeting didn't impress her either.

"You said you'd call," she accused.

"I did? Sorry, babe, must've been real drunk. I don't usually make bullshit promises like that, yo."

Ouch. I knew Reno was far from a gentleman, but I hadn't expected him to be that much of an asshole. The woman shot daggers at the man, who responded with a nonchalant smile.

"Do you even remember Mr. Samson's office?" she questioned, her voice going up a notch.

"'Course I do! Uh, kinda. What's the big deal, anyway? It was just a bit of fun, that's all."

I winced internally and leaned my temple on my fingertips, tilting my head away from the heated exchange in the hopes of hiding my face from all the curious ones now peering at us from around the cafeteria.

"I bet you forgot my name too, huh? Babe."

"C'mon, sweetie, don't be like that."

Oh my, if looks could kill. I couldn't say if he used the endearment to rile her up on purpose or if he was just clueless. Reno couldn't be happy about the scene this woman was causing, though, so it was probably the former.

The fuming woman snapped her eyes to me, making me inch backwards. I didn't want to get any more involved in this fiasco than I already was.

"I wouldn't bother, if I were you," she said with poorly hidden spite. "He's nowhere as good as they say."

After one last, venomous glare at the man, she turned on her heel and marched off. Reno dropped down in his chair and blew unruly strands out of his eyes with a loud, extended exhale.

"One of those adoring secretaries of yours?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Not anymore, looks like," he sighed with a sheepish chuckle and slid a chocolate bar across the table.

"You can be quite a dick at times, you know."

"'Course I know. Made a fuckin' career of it, didn't I?" He glanced over toward the door the irate woman had fled through. "I ain't usually this bad, tho'. Had to make a show for the crowd, y'know? People love gossip 'bout the sticky fallout from the office Yuletide parties, so that oughta keep 'em from payin' too much attention to my hot date."

That gave me pause. Until now it had been kind of exciting, hiding out in the open like this, but getting someone else hurt in the process didn't sit right with me. My eyes rested on the colorful wrapping of the candy in front of me as I voiced my opinion.

"I'm not thrilled about being the reason you hurt her feelings."

Reno had been scanning our surroundings, leaning back with one arm folded up over the back of the chair, but now he returned his gaze to me. His half-lidded eyes held mild disbelief.

"Oh no, hold it right there," he said, raising the fingers of his free hand for emphasis. "She's the one who started it and was dumb enough to do so in front of an audience. The bitch was itchin' to stir up some drama. Probably hoped you'd throw your drink in my face or somethin'. Ain't my fault her lil' show didn't go the way she'd hoped."

I picked up the chocolate and twirled it around in my fingers a few times, considering his words. I wasn't convinced they were entirely correct – I was sure she would have said it was very much his fault – but there was a grain of truth to his reasoning.

"Just for the record, I was drunk," Reno added after a few moments. "Wasn't exactly bringin' my A game, yo."

Perplexed by the statement, I reviewed the exchange in my head. Was this in reference to the woman's "friendly" advice, or was he just offering an explanation for the whole sorry affair?

"Uh huh," I said as I unwrapped the treat, then took a bite.

I went still and closed my eyes, slowing down my chewing as the sweet flavor of nutty chocolate flooded my taste buds. This was almost better than the first taste of Midgar coffee. I had to stifle a soft moan of appreciation.

Meanwhile, Reno continued his defense. His masculine pride must have been dented by the woman's parting words.

"Real fuckin' plastered. The docs took me off the meds just in time for the party, so I made the most of it, y'know?"

"Mm. Not the best way to start a sweet, sweet love affair."

He responded to my feigned sympathy with a snort of disdain while I took the chance to enjoy a second mouthful of the chocolate.

"C'mon, Doc, I just wanted to get laid." A small crease appeared between his eyebrows and he seemed to be mumbling mostly to himself when he continued after a short pause. "I guess? Can't even remember pickin' her up."

Having gone through my fair share of wild parties in my early student years, I was no stranger to that particular brand of confusion in the morning. Still, hypocritical or not, I couldn't resist the opportunity to needle the man. All those paperclips were not forgotten, nor forgiven.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Reno."

The redhead responded with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

"So I'd rather fuck women than sit and talk to 'em all night. That ain't a crime, is it?"

His unapologetic honesty was refreshing, I had to give him that. It was also reassuring. While I had dismissed the suspicion that the Turk might have romantic intentions toward me almost as soon as the thought had popped into my head – as the man himself might have phrased it, there were easier ways to get laid – it was still a relief to have it confirmed. That scenario would have gotten really uncomfortable, really fast.

"Hey, I'm not judging, though I think you could make less of a mess of it. But, I'm curious. Following that logic... What does that make me?"

A look of surprise passed over Reno's features, although it was soon replaced by a sardonic smile.

"Well, babe, I guess you can count yourself 'special'."

It was my turn to roll my eyes.

While the Turk resumed his subtle inspection of our neighbors, I relished the last of my chocolate bar. It wasn't an awkward silence. It was a thoughtful one, a shared quietude.

Of course, with Reno being Reno, it didn't last very long. With a low snicker, the man shook his head.

"Man, what a clusterfuck this turned out to be. Ain't exactly what I had in mind, yo."

"I do believe it's the most disastrous lunch date I've ever been on," I said with a crooked smile. "Congratulations."

His eyes glittered when they locked with mine.

"Let's do it again sometime, yeah?"

That gleeful enthusiasm for trouble was infectious, dangerously so. In my mind's eye, I saw the flash of a wicked grin beneath a pair of dark brown eyes much like my own. My sister had been a troublemaker, too. Always getting us both into dicey situations, while I did my best to get us out of them.

I missed her. So damned much.

Would it be so foolish to allow myself to rely on Reno's goodwill for a while? Even if I didn't trust the man, what did I have left to lose?

I thought back on the rollercoaster of emotions I had gone through in less than an hour. I recalled the complete lack of them during the months I had done little more than sit on my behind. I couldn't let myself drown in that hospital-green sea of ennui again. I wouldn't.

My smile morphed into a toothy grin.

"Absolutely."

Chapter Text

The third time Reno came to fetch me, the nascent pattern was broken.

"Got someone who wants to meet ya, Fitz," he informed me as we approached the elevator. "Reeve Tuesti."

I stared at him, caught completely off guard. "Tuesti? You mean the executive?"

"Yeah, Head of Urban Development. Wants your help with somethin' or other."

That was even more perplexing. Urban development didn't sound like my field at all.

"Why would he need my help?"

"Guess you're gonna find out soon," Reno said with a careless shrug. "We're headin' there now."

"Now?!"

"Yup!" The elevator door dinged open and he waved toward it. "After you, Doc."

I glowered at the man, but he remained nonchalant.

"Chop chop," he said, holding the doors open. "Don't wanna keep the big man waitin'."

I stepped inside, feeling my heart rate race out of control. My previous meeting with a Shinra executive had not ended well.

"Calm down, Fitz," Reno said once the doors had closed behind us. "Reeve ain't such a bad guy. Y'know, for a Shinra bigwig."

"High praise," I muttered, toying with the cuff of my shirt.

He laughed and put his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the opposite wall. That odd shade of pale blue, half-hidden beneath heavy eyelids, glinted in the light of the elevator as he appraised me.

"Seriously, he's all right," Reno insisted. "I think you'll like him."

"What's he like? Like you?" I asked, mostly to keep him talking. Right now, I found the Turk's lazy drawl more calming than silence.

"Nah," he chuckled. "He's all polite and classy and educated and shit. Totally not like me."

"Hm. You might be right then. Maybe I will like him."

Reno rolled his eyes and poked out his tongue. Despite my best efforts, I broke out in a nervous giggle.

"Sheesh, you really are wound up, ain't ya?" He shook his head. "Relax, babe. The guy just wants to talk to ya."

"I don't know what to expect, do I? The only Shinra executive I've met is Hojo."

The jitters made my tone sharper than I had perhaps intended, but Reno took it in his stride.

"Yeah, well, Reeve's pretty much the total opposite of Dr. Freaky. Chill, Fitz. I got your back, yo."

He flashed me an encouraging grin. I took a deep breath and forced my hands down by my sides, fisted tight to keep them from fidgeting.

"I'll be fine once we get there. It's just the waiting that gets to me."

"Yeah, I get it." He glanced up at the floor indicator. "Well, lucky for us both, the next one's ours."

After a short walk down a corridor lined with unmarked doors, Reno flung one of them open and strolled in.

"Yo!"

So, I wasn't the only one Reno plagued with his way of announcing his arrival. As I followed him inside and closed the door behind me, I heard a male voice greet him with a combination of mild irritation, exasperation and, oddly enough, a touch of amusement.

"Haven't learned to knock yet, I see."

"Nope," was Reno's unrepentant answer. "Brought the Doc, yo."

Schematics and designs covered every open expanse of wall, while the workbenches were filled with unidentifiable technological creations in progress, tools and countless mechanical bits and pieces. The impression was one of carefully organized chaos. I had never set foot in this room, yet it held a haunting familiarity that caused a sharp jab in my chest. I stopped my left thumb just before it moved to touch a ring that was no longer there.

Rising to his feet from a chair by one of the tables was a tall man in his thirties, with dark hair and a trimmed beard. The jacket of his business suit was folded over the back of the chair, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up above his wrists. He set down the pencil he had been using before Reno burst in and turned around to meet me face to face.

"Welcome, Miss FitzEvan. A pleasure to meet you."

His voice was calm and his eyes were alert, although a tad puffy. I took his extended hand and received a firm handshake. Now that I had met the man, my "case of the pre-shakes", as Victor would call it, was dissipating.

"Doctor FitzEvan, actually."

Normally I might not have been so bothered with correct titles, but under the current inequitable conditions, it offered me some measure of dignity.

"Of course. My apologies, Doctor," the man corrected, with no veiled irony that I could detect. He was quickly making a favorable impression. "My name is Reeve Tuesti, as I'm sure Reno has informed you. I'm in charge of the department for Urban Development here at Shinra."

"Yes," I said with a nod. "I know who you are."

"Good. Do you know why you're here?"

I glanced at Reno, who seemed more interested in an unfinished project sprawled upon a nearby workbench than in the conversation, then took another look at the gadget-filled room. I found nothing that might explain why an executive – and, apparently, an engineer – would need my help.

"I understand you have a proposition for me, but that's all."

"In that case, I'll get straight to the point. Follow me, please."

Reeve made his way across the room, to a screen that obscured part of the back wall. When he pulled it aside, I sucked in a sharp breath.

"I understand this belongs to you."

I hadn't expected to ever see my hazard suit again. Even back on Earth, it was a piece of unusual technology. I had assumed that it would be taken apart for study, or scavenged for parts and expensive materials. Yet here it was, propped up on a stand in the back of a Shinra executive's private workshop, looking better than new. I was speechless.

"Wow," I finally managed to say. "It looks so... shiny."

I walked up to the suit and traced the angular edges of the chest panel with light fingers. Reeve Tuesti had certainly pampered my baby. The repainted surface was smooth and cool under my exploratory fingertips, free of every old dent and scratch.

"You know," I mused with a wry smile, seeing the suit with fresh eyes after such a long time, "it does sort of look like armor, doesn't it?"

My fingers traveled up to brush over the name tag on the right. My name, even after the new paint job. That surprised me.

"Yeah. That's why Scarlet called dibs first. Her people ripped it apart, yo."

"Scarlet is the head of the Weapons Department," Reeve clarified in response to my quizzical frown. "She was hoping for a military application, but it turned out the suit wasn't designed to stop bullets and blades."

"I could have told you that," I scoffed. "In fact, I believe I did tell you exactly that."

"Yeah, well, Scarlet ain't much for listenin'," Reno said with a shrug. "More of a stab-ya-in-the-face-if-you-don't-do-what-I-say kinda person, y'know."

His remark made me wonder if this Scarlet had been behind that mirror in the interrogation room, but I slapped away that thought. I needed to keep a clear head and focus on the present.

It occurred to me that the Turk wasn't the least bit surprised to see my suit in Reeve's workshop. He had known all along what was waiting for me, the sneaky bastard. For how long, I wondered. Did this explain his dogged interest in me? Were the charming grins and kind deeds just an act to win my cooperation on the executive's order? The smile on my face began to fade.

"I, however, am much more interested in what your suit does have to offer," Reeve said, interrupting my glum line of thought. "Reno tells me it's a 'hazardous environment suit', is that correct?"

"That's right. It's designed to protect the user from toxins and radiation, but it absorbs some physical damage too, like extreme temperatures and minor debris. You know, environmental dangers," I added, sending a pointed look their way. "Not bullets and knives, as your Weapons Department discovered."

Reeve seemed satisfied with my answer.

"Excellent. It's an environmental danger that I'm hoping to minimize. As I'm sure you know, prolonged Mako exposure can lead to all sorts of unpleasant side effects, even death."

I didn't know that, but thought it best to keep that to myself for now. I didn't know how much Reno had told the executive of my origins.

"Despite efforts to design safe working conditions for the staff of Mako reactors," he continued, "several cases of Mako poisoning occur every year. I'm hoping your suit might help me change that."

Benevolent motivations among the Shinra elite? After months of Amanda's enthusiastic gossip, Reno's cynical comments and my own unsavory experiences, I had begun to suspect such a thing didn't exist.

"I see," I said, wary but curious.

"Which brings us to why I invited you here. I would like to run some tests on the suit and was hoping I could convince you to lend your assistance."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Performance testing, to start with. The suit was literally in pieces when it arrived here and its technology is very... unusual. I want to know if everything works as intended and, well, the suit isn't exactly my size." He smiled. "After that, the adjustments for Mako protection, as I explained."

I digested his suggestion for a few moments, letting my eyes roam over the familiar contours in red and black propped up on its stand. In that moment, that damned suit represented everything I had lost in the blink of an eye. The thought of slipping into it again filled me with a longing I had diligently tried to lock away, deep in the shadows of my heart.

The offer sounded pretty harmless. Too harmless.

"What's the catch?" I asked, turning my gaze back to the executive.

His smile widened.

"No catch. Your expert opinion and accurate test data is all I require from you."

"There's always a catch," I insisted. "I thought you were the head of Urban Development. Isn't this outside the responsibility of your department?"

"Technically, you're right." He turned his head toward the suit, eyeing it much like I had a minute ago. "One could say it's a pet project of mine. Something to take my mind off the dreary realities of my job."

I didn't miss the darkened glance he sent in Reno's direction, nor the way the younger man's jaw tightened. I just wasn't sure what to make of their little display of wordless communication.

"I believe this will be a collectively beneficial arrangement. I get satisfy my curiosity about this kind of technology, the reactor staff will be safer, and at the end of the process, you will have a suit that is, literally, better than new."

I whipped my head around to give him a incredulous look.

"As you well know yourself, it is a highly customized piece of equipment," Reeve explained, answering my unspoken question. "Built to your measurements and tailored to your needs. It would be very costly and time-consuming to modify it for someone else. All I want is a useful design. The suit itself is yours."

My eyes wandered over to the suit and came to a halt by my name. I supposed that explained why it was still on there.

The offer had gone from "harmless" to "too good to be true", but oh, how I wanted to believe it.

"I'm a biologist," I pointed out. "I know what the suit can do, but I can't help much with the 'how'."

"That's fine," Reeve assured me. "I'm only asking for your experience as a user. Leave the technical details to me."

"I assume we'll be working here? In your workshop?"

"Yes. I should have all the necessary equipment here, and can acquire more if need be."

I nodded, then took a deep breath. I only had one question left, but it was the big one.

"And where will I spend my off-hours?"

"I'm afraid that's out of my hands," he said with an immediacy that suggested he had been expecting the question. "There are limits to what a single executive can do."

"And Reeve's already pushin' 'em with this deal," Reno piped up, "which means this is strictly hush-hush. Not a word to anyone, yo."

"It's for your own good, Doctor," Reeve hasted to add.

"Yeah," the redhead agreed. "The loony bin people know not to ask questions 'bout Turk business or orders from the big bosses, but it's best not to push your luck. If someone gets curious and digs too deep, you're the one who's gonna get the short end of the stick."

It was a warning, not a threat. I still had to suppress a shiver.

I had no guarantees. I would have to trust Reeve's word regarding the suit's ultimate ownership, and I had no reason to do so. If I wanted out of here, though, I would have to take risks sooner or later. At least the man had the decency to ask nicely, and agreeing to his offer would keep me close to the suit.

"Very well, Mr. Tuesti. I accept."

"Excellent." He offered his hand to seal the deal. "I look forward to working with you, Doctor."

I smiled and shook his hand for the second time that day, then turned back to the suit for one more look. I felt relieved. Elated, really. No matter how this would pan out, I had something to look forward to for now.

"It's a remarkably complex piece of engineering," Reeve remarked. "A lot of planning must have gone into it."

"Well, yes and no. It started out as just sensors. Pretty much just this," I said, brushing my fingers over the circuitry in the undersuit. "Something to warn us of invisible dangers in unstable conditions. The communication system was added soon after."

I turned toward the exterior shell, pointing toward the speakers of the radio system, tucked away in the collar.

"When the storms got worse, we needed more weight to keep us on the ground during field work outside. A helmet and armor to protect us from flying debris." I rapped my knuckles on the breast plate. "Then, to keep us upright with everything added, we needed a bit of help. Something to keep the weight off of our backs."

"The powered exoskeleton, yes," Reeve nodded. "The gradual evolution does explain some of the design choices."

There was an interesting choice of words, and not one I had come to expect from an engineer. James spoke of versions and models. I made me wonder if Reeve was adapting his terminology to suit his audience.

"Yes, I suppose so. We went through several models, upgrading them as we needed more and more features."

"By 'we', you mean your team?" Reno interjected from right behind me, making me jump. "Sounds like these were made just for you."

The Turk had come up behind us while we talked. The man could move with remarkable quietness, considering how loud he was every time he opened his mouth.

"That's right," I confirmed, sending him a sour glance which was casually ignored. "There's only a handful of these in use and they're each tailored for the user's needs. This one can perform basic chemical analysis on soil and liquid samples, radiation measurements, that sort of thing."

"Hm, interesting. I might be able to modify that feature for what we need..." After a brief pause, the executive clasped his hands together behind his back and turned to face me. "Well, Doctor, are you ready to start?"

"What?" I asked, taken aback. "Now?"

"No time like the present," he said with a smile.

"Shit," I blurted out before I could stop myself, then gathered my wits while Reno's laugh rang in my burning ears. "I mean, right. Yes, okay. Sure."

Unlike the Turk, Reeve was smooth enough to let my lapse of decorum slide without comment.

"Let's start with the user status sensors, shall we? I'm afraid there's no dressing room, but you can change behind the screen there." He pointed at the screen that had concealed my suit. "I'll make sure the Turk doesn't peek."

"Hey! I ain't no desperate creep, yo."

Reeve responded with a rather mischievous smirk that I hadn't expected to see on the face of a Shinra executive, and I realized our cooperation might entail some unforeseen benefits.

"I appreciate it, Mr. Tuesti," I said with my best winning smile, then sent a sly sideways glance toward the Turk.

Reno narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms in a huff. While he marched off toward the other side of the room, glaring at the wall, I picked up the garment and made my way behind the screen Reeve had indicated.

While shedding the hospital clothes in favor of a new outfit had felt fantastic, it was nothing compared to the feel of something so achingly well-known. The undersuit – or various iterations of it, to be exact – had been a second skin for years. I zipped up the top, closed my eyes, then held out my hands and rolled my shoulders in slow circles a few times. It was looser now, but still a comfortable fit. I smiled. For the first time in many, many months, I felt like myself again.

With a renewed sense of confidence, I strolled out from behind the screen.

"All right, gentlemen," I said with a grin. "Let's do this."

The next two hours or so were spent mostly standing still while Reeve calibrated his systems to read the input. In the old days, I would have found such a tedious process dull beyond belief, but now that I knew what true mind-numbing boredom felt like, I relished every second of it.

So did Reeve, it seemed. An excited spark appeared in his eyes every time we encountered a problem to solve, a technical mystery to unravel. It was a delight to watch the polished executive transform into full-blooded engineer. This was familiar ground, at long last something I could relate to; and although the memories it induced strayed closer to bitter than sweet at times, the overall semblance of home won out.

The end of the session came much too soon.

"I'd say we've made solid progress already," Reeve said, visibly satisfied. "Reno, are you available tomorrow?"

"I'm s'posed to be doin' paperwork," he said, shrugging. "So unless somethin' blows up or whatever, I'm free, yeah."

"Good. Then you can bring Dr. FitzEvan here after lunch."

I could have kissed the man. Instead I settled for a few sincere parting words.

"It's been a pleasure, Mr. Tuesti. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Likewise," he said with a nod and a smile. "Until tomorrow."

Chapter Text

I was a bundle of nervous, excited energy. The only thing keeping me still was the fact that for the first time in more than a year, I was wearing the full hazard suit; all thirty or so kilos of it. It sure felt heavier than I remembered. Loitering in the ward was not conducive to retaining muscle.

"Can I turn it on yet?" I called to Reeve, who was running some checks on the computer.

Reno, who had decided to take a nap in the most comfortable-looking chair in the room, flinched to life when I raised my voice.

"Aw, shit," he muttered and yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Don't tell me you guys were gonna let me miss the best part."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Reeve said absently, focusing on his screen, then answered my question. "Just a moment, Doctor. There's one thing missing."

After a few more taps on the keyboard, he straightened up and lifted a cardboard box from one of the workbenches. I blinked in surprise as he picked up the object that had been hidden underneath and brought it to me.

"A suit like this isn't going to be much use without a helmet," he remarked, placing it in my hands.

"Whoa," I said, somewhat lost for words. "Neat design."

Most of the front was taken up by what looked like a smooth, golden mirror, while the rest was of a similar material as my suit. The color scheme was the same red and black, but otherwise the look was a far cry from the bulky, glorified gas mask I had lost back on Earth. This thing looked like a sleek combination of a motorcycle helmet and fencing one. Hell, it looked mean.

"Shit, Reeve, that's pretty badass," Reno approved with a whistle. "Didn't know you had a sense of style, yo."

Reeve huffed, but kept smiling.

"I can't take credit for that, I'm afraid. You can thank Wallace for the look."

"Wallace? That dude from Weapons Dev?" The Turk grinned. "I gotta have a word with him some time. Maybe he can make me one like that."

"Why? It's not like you ever wear one for the bike."

"Yeah, well, if it looked anythin' like that I might."

I had to stifle a snort at the sudden mental image of Reno wearing my new helmet with the ever-present goggles strapped in place on the outside.

"We can give it a full trial in a little bit," Reeve said to me, returning to the computer. "Let's see how the diagnostics and monitoring work first. You're good to go."

As much as I was itching to try it out, inside an unpowered suit I would have trouble lifting my hands up over my head, anyway. Gripping the helmet in one hand, I snapped open the cover protecting the manual controls on my left forearm. After a quick visual check to confirm everything was the same as before, I pressed the power button. Within seconds, I felt the weight lift as the protective suit hummed to life.

"Hazardous environment suit online."

A huge smile crept onto my face. Never before had I been so glad to hear that tinny voice.

"Suit, give me a full systems check."

"Initiating systems check. Suit status monitoring, online. User status monitoring, online. Communication interface, online..."

My attention was mostly focused on my new helmet as the suit launched into a listing procedure I had heard hundreds of times before, so I was only half-listening to its monotone drone as it rattled off system after system.

"...Automated medical system, activated. Systems check complete."

The last one, though, made me pause and look up at Reeve with raised eyebrows.

"I did a little tinkering," he confessed with an apologetic smile. "I thought it could be a useful addition."

"Uh huh. So what exactly does this medical system do?"

Reeve stepped up to me and knocked on the plate on the back.

"There are ampoules of hi-potion, hyper and remedy stored under here. I fitted the suit with an automatic injection system, linked with the user status sensors. If your condition goes critical, the system selects the most appropriate one based on your vital signs."

Hi-potion? Hyper? I had never even heard of these substances. I wasn't thrilled about the idea of needles poking into me without warning, injecting unknown chemicals into my body.

Reeve must have noticed the look on my face.

"We can disable the system for now and do a separate demonstration later, if you prefer."

"Yes, let's do that," I said, relieved that I had a say in the matter. "I want to do a full scan of these chemicals first."

"Fair enough."

I craned my neck to observe as he attached a couple of thin cables from the computer to the maintenance panel on my back. I couldn't see much, but noticed that their positioning was different from what I had expected. Necessary adjustments to make the technologies compatible, I presumed.

"Anything else I should know about?" I asked when he moved beside me to enter some commands on the keyboard.

"I have a few ideas, but nothing that's been implemented," he said, keeping his eyes on the screen. "We can go over them once we're finished with the tests."

"Sure. Just so I know I won't accidentally set off any arm rockets."

"Oh! Oh!" Reno waited until both of our quizzical faces were turned to him. "Boob rockets!"

I gave him a blank stare, then turned my head toward Reeve. The skeptical looks we traded were identical. The Turk watched us for a few moments with a wide grin, but his face fell at our lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh, c'mon! It'd be awesome, yo."

"There will be no 'boob rockets'," I declared, fixing him with a level stare.

Reno huffed and threw his arms over his chest.

"Fine. Be that way, ya borin' smarty-pants geeks."

The grumbling redhead was studiously ignored by the rest of us while Reeve finished preparing for the performance testing, hooking me up with more wires in the process. At the rate he was going, I would end up looking like a robotic porcupine.

"Okay, we're ready to begin," he said after a few minutes.

As soon as I heard the words, a thought popped into my head.

"Hang on. There's something I want to do first."

Reeve gave me a curious look, but straightened up to wait. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed movement; Reno shifted, too, with a subtle roll of his shoulders as he let his hands fall to his side. Always alert and prepared for the worst, it seemed, despite outward appearances. Well, it was his job, after all.

"Suit, check user files."

"Atmospheric readings, 72 files. Chemical analysis, 124 files. Electromagnetic field data, 113 files. Music, 4021 files."

A small jolt of excitement brought a smile to my face. Everything was still there.

"Excellent. Suit, play 'some jazzy tunes'."

Scattered piano chords floated out of the suit's speakers, while a rhythmic beat slowly built up until the two joined and fused in playful harmony. I closed my eyes and my smile grew into a full-on grin, while my hips began to sway on their own accord. When the song kicked off properly, I took a few steps in place, moving my feet to the rhythm.

"The legs feel a little out of synch," I called to Reeve. "Too much boost on the left. Check the main servo."

For the first time since I had met him, the executive seemed dumbfounded. His mouth fell slightly open, but after a few seconds of gawking, he snapped back to the present.

"Right," he said, returning his attention to the data flooding the screen. "I see it. Correcting now."

"That's better." I tried a more ambitious move. "Yeah, that's good. Power-assisted leg movement is synchronized."

As modest as my suit-restricted dancing was, it was probably more than a little unusual to go for it in front of a couple of practical strangers. After months of mind-numbing monotone in hospital green, though, I didn't care. I was bloody well going to enjoy myself now that I had the chance. Fuck propriety.

Reno sniggered.

"This is how ya test stuff back where you're from?"

"Personal preference, Mr. Turk." I twirled around and almost lost my balance. "Whoops! Left arm response is lagging."

Now that he had recovered from the surprise, Reeve was taking things in his stride.

"Recalibrating... Done. Try again."

I spun around again, this time in the other direction to detangle myself from the wires. Amazingly, none of them had come loose. That sort of thing irritated James to no end.

The grin faltered and I slowed down as memories returned to me. My former fiancé had protested my request for a music player in the suit at first, claiming it was a waste of resources. He had never appreciated my propensity to liven up his testing with impromptu dance moves either, as he considered it unprofessional and unfit for serious scientific study.

Narrowing my eyes, I resumed my dancing with renewed enthusiasm. Fuck James, too. My suit, my rules.

"Feeling good. Both arm reaction speeds nominal."

"Lookin' good too, Fitz," Reno said with a chuckle, his fingers tapping his thigh in time with the beat. "I take it back. Maybe you ain't as borin' as I thought."

"Oh, I'm full of surprises."

He responded to my grin with a smirk.

"I bet you are."

Realizing my excitement was bringing me awfully close to flirting with the man, I soon toned it down before my mood was misinterpreted. I nonetheless reserved the right to inject a few dance moves here and there, whenever a particularly good song appeared on the playlist.

The programming was still intact, Reeve told me; the problem was, it was no longer a proper fit for the hazard suit itself. The suit had been taken apart in unkind ways, then pieced together again by someone who wasn't familiar with the tech, so what the system expected to find didn't quite match up to reality. This meant that while the basic functionality was still there, much of it didn't feel right. As the hours passed, it became clear that a lot of tweaking and recalibrating would be required to restore my poor abused suit to its original condition.

How fortunate, then, that it was in eager and meticulous hands. Reeve's dedication to his work, combined with a careful attention to detail, bordered on obsessive.

"For someone who claims not to know the 'how', you seem to know a great deal," he commented once we had finished for the day and I was placing the undersuit on the table.

"I've done this sort of thing before. I helped James test the original prototype."

"Whoa, hang on," Reno piped up. "James the Jerkface made your suit?"

He caught me completely off guard. I snorted, then burst out laughing.

"Yes," I choked out between fits of laughter, "it was James the–" Another giggle erupted and it took me several seconds to finish the sentence. "The... The Jerkface. Oh god, that's not even funny."

The redhead looked even more pleased with himself than usual.

"You're sure laughin' a lot at somethin' that ain't funny."

I wiped tears out of the corners of my eyes, still trying to control the hysterical urge to laugh.

"Anyway," I said, clearing my throat, "there are some issues that come up regularly in testing, so in the more common cases I've learned to connect the problem with the cause. I know what it feels like when a servo is out of synch, but I don't know that actually means. I doubt I could even point out the right part."

"Well, I couldn't have wished for better assistance on this project," Reeve said. "I believe we will make a fine team."

It had been an eventful day, but I felt energized and eager to continue. I offered him a warm smile.

"I'm sure you're right, Mr. Tuesti."

I couldn't say we settled into a routine after that – the length of the sessions could vary from a couple of hours to a whole afternoon – but we met up with regular irregularity at Reeve's workshop over the following week. I tested the suit's performance after every tweak and new addition, and gave my two cents on usability issues, options for implementation of Mako shielding and preliminary designs for a protective system for reactor staff.

I also read reports and articles on the effects of Mako, provided by Reeve on my request. The information was superficial, dealing with observed effects on whole organisms after accidents rather than research on a cellular or molecular level, but even that was enough to pique my interest. The combined symptoms didn't fit any chemical toxin, organism or radiation that I knew of. Without access to a lab or experimental data, though, I couldn't delve into a detailed analysis.

While not my proper line of work, I found myself enjoying the time spent in the workshop. The executive was an easy man to work with.

"Please, call me Reeve," he suggested after a couple of days.

"All right, Reeve, but only if you call me Tess." After a moment's hesitation, I turned toward the bored-looking redhead swiveling in a chair. "Feel free to do so too, Reno."

"Tess, eh?" He pursed his lips and looked me over as he considered this, then shrugged. "Nah. Fitz suits ya better."

I arched an eyebrow. The prefix meaning "son of" – once especially popular among the illegitimate offspring of royalty – suited me?

Oh, what the hell. Why not. It wasn't like Reno would have known the right historical context from Earth and, really, it was better than some other things he was fond of calling me. Speaking of...

"Fitz? Not 'doll' or 'sweetie'?"

"C'mon, when have I last called ya either of those?"

A faint frown creased my brow when couldn't find any fresh examples to throw back at him. The "dolls" and "sweeties" had gradually been replaced by "Fitz" or "Doc".

"You still call me 'babe', though."

"Yeah, well, that suits ya too," he drawled with an unrepentant grin. "I mean, you are one, y'know."

I narrowed my eyes and sent him a dirty look. Reno rolled his with a theatrical sigh.

"Sheesh. You sure suck at takin' a compliment."

"Maybe you suck at giving them," I shot back. "Sweet cheeks."

He had already opened his mouth to reply, but the last words I threw at him rendered the man speechless. For a second his expression even mirrored the one I had sported a minute ago. As fleeting as it no doubt would be, it was a rather satisfying sight.

Then Reno broke into a devilish grin.

"Damn, you got a point." He twisted sideways in the seat and slapped his rear. "These really are some sweet cheeks, yo."

I planted my face in my palm.

"Give the kid a break, Tess," Reeve said, the dry tone tinged with humor. "He's just trying to say that you're not one to be toyed with, and that despite your regrettable lack of a sweet personality, he considers you an attractive example of the female gender."

For the second time in less than a minute, the redhead was lost for words. Truly, it was a day of miracles.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Reeve," Reno finally groaned, "quit sayin' shit like that, man! You sound like a goddamn shrink." He threw his arms across his chest and glared at the older man. "And now you made it all weird."

As much as I enjoyed the interactions between the two, the Turk was not a regular at these meetings. He was often busy with other work and even got called away a couple of times. On those occasions, Reeve would send a regular Shinra security guard to escort me. More than one, in fact; each taking me part of the way until I was handed over to an orderly in the visitors' waiting area in the hospital wing, who brought me to the right ward. An attempt to obscure the trail to an executive's private workshop, I guessed. I had no complaints. Each convoluted detour was an opportunity to learn more about the building's layout.

The orderly never asked questions, or expressed any surprise or suspicion about his task. It made me wonder if the Turks and higher-ups of Shinra often used the psych ward for their own purposes. It would explain why I had been locked up for so long without proper therapy, with no raised eyebrows from any of the staff, and why Amanda the incurable gossip never brought up my unusual absences.

An answer to that question arrived in unexpected form one morning, when a knock on the door interrupted me only minutes after I had started on a chapter. I frowned. It was too early for one of Reno's visits. He never bothered to knock, anyway. As I set the book down and sat up, the door opened to reveal Amanda in the company of another blonde woman.

"You have a visitor, Teresa."

The nurse had just enough time to finish her timid announcement before the other woman pushed past and strode into the room on satin heels in red; a perfect match to her long dress. A very low-cut gown, I couldn't help but notice as I rose to my feet, which revealed much of the voluptuous woman's assets.

I recognized the attire, rather than the face. I had seen her the other day in the elevator as I was escorted back to my room by a security guard. It had been impossible to ignore the examining stare she had given me, but adhering to Reno's instructions, I had kept quiet and done my best to remain uninteresting. Apparently, I had been unsuccessful.

The blonde came to a halt before me, standing half a head taller than me in her high heels.

"Leave us," she commanded without looking back.

With an apologetic look in my direction, Amanda closed the door, leaving me alone with this woman who stared at me like a snake stalking a particularly delicious mouse.

The blonde crossed her arms and released me from her gaze to give my room a cursory glance, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"So, this is where they chain you up at night. The loony bin. A convenient place to hide Shinra's inconvenient problems." Her eyes locked onto me again, while a sort of calculated amusement settled on her features. "It seems I've underestimated Reeve Tuesti. I didn't think he had the balls to take advantage of a desperate woman in dire straits."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to keep the apprehension off of my face.

"Your job as Tuesti's obliging, hardworking assistant, of course. You really should stand up for yourself more. You'll never get anywhere if you let men treat you like this."

The woman knew far too much. My discomfort left me with zero patience for games and insinuation.

"Either get to the point or get out of my room."

Her blue eyes grew frosty, giving me the first indication of the darkness disguised by the beautiful face and sultry appearance.

"You're in no position to make demands," she warned, then reverted to the supercilious manner and looked me over with exaggerated appraisal. "You know, you don't look like much without your suit."

"Excuse me?"

I was barely able to hear my own voice over the warning bells ringing in my ears.

"Don't play dumb with me." She paused, then continued in a tone that matched the look she sent me down her nose. "Therèse FitzEvan of Cobalt Industries. From... Earth, was it?"

My heart skipped a beat. It took me a while to find my voice again.

"Who are you?"

"Don't know much, do you? I'm the Head of Weapons Development. You may call me Scarlet."

I felt my face go pale. The woman who had demanded my suit, at any cost. The one who had put me through hell to get what she wanted, only to toss it aside without a second thought as soon as she realized it wasn't what she had expected.

"We haven't been introduced, but I've seen plenty of you," the woman continued, affirming my silent thoughts. "I supervised your first two interrogations."

Scarlet showed no signs of remorse or aversion. If anything, she seemed amused by the memory. Proud of it.

"Back then your so-called information seemed as useless as your suit, but now that Tuesti has taken an interest in you, I can't help but wonder... Is there more to you than meets the eye? Perhaps I should dig more answers out of you, hm?"

Reno's face was rarely without some kind of smirk, sneer or grin, but he had never smiled at me like this. That twisted curl of her lips told me that if this woman were to drag me to the interrogation room, I wouldn't come out in one piece.

It was getting hard to breathe.

"What do you want?" I snapped.

"Oh, there's plenty of time for that later. For now, I just wanted to take a closer look at you. It's not every day one gets to meet a visitor from another world face to face."

"You're mistaken. I'm not from another world."

"Oh, really? And where are you from, then?"

The rising panic had made me blurt out the lie without thinking it through. I fumbled for a Gaian location that might appear appropriate, but Scarlet laughed; a high-pitched, grating noise that was more akin to cackling than laughter.

"Thought so."

After one last once-over, she scoffed and sashayed over to the door. With a manicured hand wrapped around the handle, she paused to look back with that smile that promised pain and misery.

"I'm afraid I have to cut this visit short, but don't worry. I'll make sure we have more fun next time."

Chapter Text

Reno wandered in a couple of hours after my unexpected visitor, showing up again after a day's absence. The limp had returned, though his lazy swagger did a good job of concealing it. I asked, but he shrugged it off, joking about running into an ill-tempered chocobo. I must have been unable to summon up a convincing reaction, because he frowned and gave me an appraising look.

"What's wrong, Fitz?"

"I'll explain when we meet up with Reeve. I think you both need to hear it."

To my relief and mild surprise, the Turk accepted my word at face value and segued into an alerted mode. The change was subtle, observable only in a sharpened gaze and the effortless control that crept into his movements as he ushered me through the corridors and elevators of Shinra HQ. I doubted any of the business suits and assistants we passed noticed anything unusual.

Soon, the three of us were standing in the workshop while I recounted the morning's events. Neither man looked pleased to hear Scarlet's name mentioned.

"Aw, that's just great," Reno groaned when I had finished, throwing his hands up in irritation.

"Did she say anything about what she has in mind for you?" Reeve asked, a scowl on his face.

"No, nothing beside vague talk about more interrogations. There didn't seem to be much point to the visit, to be honest."

Even in friendly company an unease lingered; feather-light but insistent tendrils of fear that coiled around my spine as soon as my thoughts drifted in unwanted directions. It wasn't the woman's veiled threats that worried me, as such – it was the fact that she knew. If Scarlet knew, how long before others noticed me again? Hojo may have left the company, but his assistants remained, with the perfect opportunity to prove their worth to Shinra.

On its own accord, my hand had wandered up to press against the inside of my left forearm, covering a row of three scarred dots hidden by the sleeve of my shirt. Just one of the mementos I had discovered on my body soon after waking up in the ward.

"Except to make ya nervous enough to tell us 'bout it," Reno noted.

The way he glanced at my hand clutching my arm, then up at my face, made me suspect the redhead had guessed what I feared. I didn't even know what Hojo and his lackeys had done to put those marks on me, but Reno did. He had read my file.

"Not necessarily 'us', since only my name was mentioned," Reeve corrected. "Sounds like my fellow executive wants me to know she's onto me."

The connection eluded me.

"Hang on, what's that supposed to mean?"

"If anyone bothers to look at the records, it's Reeve's name on the release forms," Reno explained. "We're tryin' to keep this quiet, so I'm guessin' she'd spin it as conspiracy with an alien power."

"Alien power?" I snorted. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Or going behind Shinra's back to gain a personal advantage," the older man added. "Treason either way."

"Treason? Really?"

It sounded like a serious allegation, but neither man looked particularly worried. Reeve lifted his shoulders in a small shrug.

"I doubt it would stick, but the investigation would complicate matters for a while."

"So, you're saying she showed up just as a warning to you?" My puzzled gaze flickered between the two men before halting on the executive. "I don't get it. Why talk to me at all? Why not go straight to you, if it's you she's after?"

"Maybe she just wanted to scare ya," Reno said, a sour note in his voice. "Hell, maybe that's all she wanted. Scarlet gets off on that sorta thing, yo."

The older man shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought.

"No, she's up to something. She's too smart to waste useful information just for the short-lived pleasure of gloating."

"Know somethin' I don't, Reeve?"

"No, but we both know Scarlet never stops scheming."

"Can't argue with that," the Turk scoffed. "Why the hell would she want us to know 'bout it, tho'? Just good ol' blackmail?"

The executive traced his beard with his fingertips, taking a few moments to consider it.

"I imagine that's what she's hoping for, eventually," he conceded. "But right now I think it's more likely she doesn't know what she's stumbled across, so she's just testing the waters to see how I react."

"Wants ya to freak out and do somethin' stupid, huh? Yeah, guess that makes sense."

"We shouldn't rely on that, though. There could be more to it."

Reno stared at his boots with narrowed eyes, absently mussing the hair on the back of his head.

"'Kay, I'll snoop around a bit, tho' I dunno how much good that'll do. Superbitch knows how to cover her tracks."

"Good. Until we know more, I suggest we continue as before."

"That's the plan?" I asked, my voice shrill with disbelief. "We do nothing? You expect me to sleep in that room, knowing she could come for me at any time?"

"I'm sorry, Tess, but it's for the best," Reeve said. "If Scarlet is waiting for a reaction, it's wiser not to show one."

A reaction; in other words, an indication of how much – or how little – my life was worth to them. I ran my palms over my arms, trying to smooth the sudden goosebumps.

"If she plans to do an official interrogation, the Turks will know 'bout it," Reno added. "I don't think that's it, tho'. If she really wanted answers, she'd have tried to get 'em already. Nah, Reeve's right. Scarlet's got somethin' else in mind."

"That does not make me feel better," I said dryly.

"Don't worry, babe. I'm keepin' an eye on ya."

After a quick grin, the redhead strolled out the door.

"Nor does that," I muttered to myself once he was out of sight. To be honest, though, the remark may not have been entirely truthful.

Reeve heard me.

"Reno's good at what he does. If there's a trail to be found, he'll sniff it out. I suggest we leave him to do his work, while we get on with ours."

It was intended as comfort, I supposed, but it was too little, too late. The discussion had already been a disheartening reminder of my position and significance. I was the one who had been intimidated, but the Turk was out there looking for threats against an executive of the company. Never mind the fact that while the two Shinra employees might get away with a slap on the wrist, my situation would no doubt end up worse than "complicated", to borrow Reeve's turn of phrase.

With a heavy heart, I nodded, agreeing to his suggestion.

While we worked on the hazard suit, my mind kept mulling over the risks the two were taking over a deal with a captive. I couldn't see how this was any less trouble for them than just forcing me to cooperate before handing me over to the next department. In fact, Scarlet's meddling exposed it as the more dangerous choice. Why not use the official route and risk nothing?

Equally puzzling was Reno's role in the agreement between Reeve and myself. At first I had assumed that he was present in the workshop in an official capacity, to watch me in the company of an executive, but I was no longer so sure. If the Turk was absent, Reeve dismissed the guards who escorted me, leaving the two of us alone while we worked. When Reno did join us, he would take naps, or doodle, or even assist us with practical issues like getting me in and out of the suit.

Sometimes, he would tinker with little projects of his own or show me ones he had already made. Little gadgets with lights that blinked when you pressed a button. Tiny cranes that could pick up screwdrivers and such, then swivel around and dump them over the edge of the table with a loud crash that seemed to amuse the man. The mechanical equivalent of stick figures with springs for legs and arms, which allowed them to somersault across the floor.

All of them were utterly useless, of course, but Reno's boyish enthusiasm for his contraptions was endearing. The same could be said for Reeve. The executive's goals were more practical and he was more discreet with his excitement, but I recognized the similarity of the twinkle in their eyes. Boys with their toys, at heart.

It had become clear that the Turk showed up to unwind during downtime, not work. His idea of relaxing also included a whole lot of chatter. Once he returned in the afternoon, this day proved to be no exception in that regard.

"Yo Fitz, why'd ya call that thing 'Suit'?" he asked as I was arranging the armored parts on a table by Reeve's computer. "Couldn't think of anythin' lamer?"

Reno had draped himself over a chair, his long legs stretched out with his feet planted on one of the engineer's workbenches. The skinny redhead tended to occupy a disproportionate amount of space. Room for that ego of his, no doubt.

The man hadn't mentioned the morning's discussion since his return, so I assumed there was nothing to report yet. As there were no better alternatives, I decided to follow his lead and do my best to act normal.

"I didn't name it." My lips twitched. "James did."

Reno snorted. "Lemme guess, he also had a dog called Dog? A cat called Cat?"

"Close. His dog was called Mutt."

"Hah! I knew it!" he crowed in wicked delight. "Well Jerkface ain't here now. Why dontcha call it somethin' else?"

That had never even occurred to me before. I straightened up and looked over the pieces laid out on the table, then down at the snug undersuit I wore.

"I'm not even sure I can."

"It should be possible," Reeve said. "I have a pretty good understanding of the voice recognition system now."

"Huh." I toyed with the thought. "I'd have no idea what to call it. It's always been 'Suit'."

"Just somethin'. Anythin'. Like... 'Annihilator'."

I couldn't help but chuckle at the deep, macho – and utterly ridiculous – announcer voice the Turk used for his suggestion.

"Reno, please. It's made for protection, not destruction."

"Yeah, I know, that's a bit lame too," he lamented, absently scratching his chin. "So, uh... How 'bout... 'Crusher'?"

I sent him an unimpressed stare and shook my head.

"Robotron!"

"It's a powered, mechanized exoskeleton," I said in my best imitation of one of James' long-suffering, patient explanations. "Technically, not a robot."

"Pff, who cares?"

"I do."

I didn't, really, but it was fun to be contrary just to wind him up. Reno threw his head back in a fit of frustration and groaned.

"Fine, so call it Mechatron."

"Pass."

"Mechabot."

"Still not a robot," I countered in a sing-song voice.

"No one likes a nitpicker," he sang in return. "Just name it fuckin' Mecha-Bob then."

"Oh, for the love of–"

"Mechaboobs!"

His triumphant grin was priceless. I had to bite the inside of my cheek and look away to keep a straight face.

"Reno," I was able to deadpan after a few seconds, "you're about to earn yourself a swift kick in the mecha-balls."

A sort of strangled cough came from Reeve's direction. Reno allowed himself a bemused snort, then adopted a disgruntled air and continued the show.

"You want somethin' just as lame as 'Suit', dontcha?" he grouched. "Oh, oh, lemme guess. 'Mr. Sparky'?"

He rolled his eyes in exaggerated contempt. I narrowed mine.

"Reeve," I said with all the dignity I could muster, "would you be so kind as to rename my suit 'Sparky'?"

The older man, who had been content to follow the exchange without comment, was almost able to conceal the small smile. His eyes glittered when we shared a conspiratorial glance.

"It will be my pleasure, Doctor."

"Aw, c'mon!" Reno moaned. "You guys suck."

I smirked and planted my hands on my hips, raising my chin.

"My suit, my rules."

It was automatic, the way the old favorite line just slipped out, but fortunately neither man decided to ruin the mood by pointing out the glaring facts to the opposite.

To be honest, I never felt like a prisoner while I was in the workshop. Even on an unfortunate day like this, the Turk's antics were enough to disperse the somber state of mind that had shrouded me since the morning. As my spirits lifted, I could acknowledge both men's efforts to keep me under the radar. A tiny, foolish part of me even dared to hope it was for my sake. I couldn't bring myself to squash it.

"Hey, Doc, there's somethin' I wanna check, yo."

Roused from my thoughts, I sent the Turk a inquisitive look.

"What's that?"

"Just somethin' I wanna try out. Got a sec?"

I glanced at Reeve, but judging by the way he was typing with his eyes glued to the screen, the man would be busy with my request for a while.

"Sure," I said with some hesitation, wondering what this was about.

"Cool." Reno grinned and hopped out of the chair to offer it to me. "Take a seat."

I did as he asked, but tensed when he produced a metal rod.

"Relax," he drawled. "This won't hurt one bit."

That didn't reassure me in the slightest, but before I had a chance to question further, the man held up the item in his hand.

"Sleep," he said in a commanding tone.

As the rod began to glow blue, a fog clouded my mind. My eyes began to droop shut on their own accord and my limbs grew heavy. I shook my head and blinked furiously until the effect faded.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, disturbed by the strange sensation.

Reno stared at me with wide eyes, mouth slightly ajar.

"Holy shit. That's mastered materia. It should put a fuckin' bandersnatch to sleep!"

"Reno!" Reeve warned.

It was too late. The redhead had already raised the rod again.

"Silence."

My lips and mouth tingled. For a moment I had trouble finding my voice, but as soon as I did, I put it to good use.

"What the fuck!" I shrieked, jumping out of the chair to flee behind it. "Stop it!"

The man snapped out of his daze and slipped the baton into a pocket, then held up his hands. For once he had the decency to look sheepish.

"Hey, it's okay, Fitz. You're okay. It's nothin' bad, I promise."

My hands clinging to the back of the chair were trembling, their knuckles white. Reno had affected my body with nothing but words.

"What did you do to me?"

My voice was as shaky as the breaths heaving my chest.

"I just tested some materia on ya," he said, his tone uncertain.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Reno," Reeve interjected, stepping up to stand between us, "I think we can assume materia doesn't exist on her home world."

Soon after our collaboration started, it had become clear that the executive was well aware of my unexplained appearance at Shinra and knew most of what I had told Reno, including my origins. He also seemed to have a better idea of what that might entail.

The redhead gave the other man a mystified look, but then his eyes widened.

"Shit," he said, raking his fingers through his hair. "I didn't mean to freak ya out, Fitz."

"Well, you bloody well did!"

Reno's brow was creased with concern as he looked me over.

"Like I said, it's nothin' dangerous. Just a couple of harmless spells. Your file said that Cure couldn't heal ya and that's pretty unusual. I was just curious if that's true for other ones too, y'know?"

My eyes must have been goggling out of my head by this point.

"Spells?" A shrill laugh escaped me. "What, like magic?"

"Well, yeah," he said with a small shrug and a quick glance at Reeve.

Magic. Of course there would be magic here. Why the hell not, right? They already had glowing goo with obscure properties, deformed monstrosities in labs and purple apples. It would probably be ghosts and werewolves next.

Unable to trust my legs now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I slumped back into the chair and stared at the floor, trying to wrap my brain around the concept.

"Materia is basically crystallized Mako," Reeve explained. "It grants its user unusual powers."

The glowing goo was magical, too? Of course it was. Silly me.

"Yeah, I'll show ya," Reno said, pulling out the metal rod again.

I stiffened and sent him a distrustful look, but the man opened a slot on the handle and shook out two small spheres into his palm.

"See, this is what I used on ya." He pointed at the green one. "It's called Seal materia. With this lil' sucker, I can put someone to sleep or make 'em shut up for a while. Well, so long as they ain't immune, which you seem to be."

I studied the small objects in his hand as I digested his explanation. They looked like a couple of marbles. While the inner glow they both possessed hinted at more unearthly qualities, I would have dismissed the idea of magic as delusional talk if I hadn't just experienced their effects for myself.

"So, the green one is for both of the... 'spells' you used on me?"

Reno nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

"Why the hell did you try both, then?" I grumbled. "Didn't the first one already show that the green ball of magic doesn't work on me?"

He scratched the back of his head, his chuckle tinged with embarrassment.

"Heh, guess that's why you're the scientist and not me."

As I was not yet in a forgiving mood, I suppressed the urge to explain that replication of experiments to verify results was very much part of the scientific method. Instead I shot a withering look at the man, then took a slow breath and ran a hand over my face.

"What does the other one do?" I asked, referring to the yellowish sphere.

Reno grinned.

"Oh, that's a Turk special. Not one you'd want me to try on ya, trust me."

An destructive spell, I guessed. I wondered how powerful it was. Not that I was keen on another demonstration just yet.

"Am I right?" Reeve wondered. "You don't have anything like this on Earth?"

I shook my head, watching with no small suspicion as Reno popped the materia marbles back into their place.

"No, no magic at all."

"Huh. Weird. Maybe that's why it won't work on ya." The Turk gave me another once-over. "You feelin' okay now?"

"I'm fine," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Just got a bit shaken up."

He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes toward one corner of the room.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout springin' it on ya like that. Didn't think, yo."

I wondered if the idea of a world without magic was as unnatural for a native of Gaia as one with magic was for me. If so, I couldn't blame the man for assuming I would know what was going on.

"Just give me a better heads up next time you get an idea like that, okay?"

Reno glanced up at me with an abashed smile.

"Deal."

With that settled, we returned to work. The redhead hovered near me for the rest of the session, eager to answer my questions about materia and to help out whenever possible. It was kind of sweet, really.

The incident had taken more out of me than I had first thought. By the time we were finished for the day I was exhausted, despite having done little more than stand and occasionally move a limb or two while Reeve checked that his recent additions and changes hadn't disturbed the functionality of existing systems. I was unable to stifle a yawn right before giving my final command.

"Suit, power down."

I glanced down at the hazard suit with a confused frown when nothing happened.

"Betcha would've remembered Mechaboobs," Reno remarked with unbearable smugness.

Before telling "Sparky" to power down, I made sure to shove my helmet at the man with a tad too much force.

Chapter Text

Reeve had made our deal sound like a mutually beneficial agreement, but I wasn't gullible enough to believe that my protective suit would be the full extent of it. He was, after all, an executive for the company that was holding me prisoner. I was certain he had just as many questions as everyone else.

Sure enough, the man pumped me for information while we worked together, but he did so in his own, civil manner. Often he encouraged me to talk in subtle ways, rather than ask outright. When Reeve did inquire directly, most of his questions were related to Earth itself, the reasons for its looming demise and our technology. I saw no harm in humoring the man. He was polite enough to offer equivalent knowledge about his own world in return.

However, I was surprised when he decided to delve into personal matters.

"Do you miss your world?" Reeve inquired one afternoon while he was bent over the suit's chest piece on his worktable, prodding at the exposed innards with some tool I couldn't name.

It was just the two of us and an idle moment for me, watching while he wired up an adjustment to Sparky's shielding. Leaning back in my chair, I took a few moments to think before answering. My fingertips tapped my thigh to the rhythm of what sounded like instrumental swing with an experimental bent. Reeve's music, this time.

"Well, yes. Of course I do." A wry bitterness made one corner of my mouth twitch upward as I considered the question some more. "Not that there's much left for me on Earth anymore."

James, Victor, the Gateway – these were the people and the project my life had revolved around in the past few years. My fiancé had turned out to be a backstabbing bastard, Victor was likely dead and the Gateway either beyond repair or in the hands of Orca. To think that so many years' worth of work and relationships could be wiped out in less than an hour.

"Don't you have family?"

My fingers went still.

"Not anymore. My parents died in the London earthquake of '72."

My tone was flat. It was either no emotion, or too much. I preferred the former. If only I could have used the same control to dispel the uncomfortable tightness in my chest.

The man paused and looked up, his brow creased in tactful concern.

"Oh. My condolences."

"Don't worry about it," I said with a fragile smile. "It was years ago."

His gaze lingered on me for a while, before he nodded and returned to his work.

"London is... a city?" he asked.

"Yes, it was the capital of the country I was born in. I lived there for several years in my teens. The earthquakes eventually destroyed it."

My parents had feared that my move to the States would put me in the danger zone for that particular kind of natural disaster. I wasn't able to appreciate the irony.

"I see," Reeve said, focused on wrangling an uncooperative piece of wire into submission. "So, you were an only child?"

This time the pain of remembrance cut deeper, as more memories I would rather not have dwelled on flickered back to life. When had they become so many?

"No. I had a sister. She's gone too."

The executive straightened in his seat and set his tools down, the frown on his face deepening as he studied me.

"I'm sorry, Tess. I didn't mean to dredge up painful memories."

Until now, the man had been all suave talk and courteous smiles; showing the face of a charming executive. This was different, not to mention unexpected.

"It's fine," My second attempt at a smile was fainter than the first. "I'm afraid no one on Earth has a happy story to share anymore."

"How did it happen? If you don't mind me asking."

Did I? Yes and no. I didn't mind the question, but the words to answer it were not so easy to find. Still, something about his searching gaze and the concerned line of his mouth made me decide to try.

"She went missing in an accident at one of the starship construction sites. It was a terrible disaster, over a hundred casualties. Dozens of workers were set adrift from the station and just vanished, never to be found. Camille... She was one of them."

It might have been easier if she had been killed on the construction site. There would have been a body to bury; some closure. Instead, all I had was the thought of her endlessly floating into the abyss of space, lost forever, still alive for who knows how long before...

I swallowed hard and lowered my gaze to my hands in my lap. I hadn't realized I was wringing them hard enough to whiten my knuckles.

"Look, why don't we take a break?" Reeve suggested. "I'll get the coffee brewing."

I nodded with a half-hearted glance his way and the man got up, heading for the small coffeemaker he kept in one corner of his workshop. On the way, he gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze; another surprising gesture. I let my eyes fall shut while I waited, focusing on the flow of the music. By the time the aroma of fresh coffee drifted my way, my fingers were once again performing a small dance to the rhythm.

The executive returned with two steaming cups, offering one of them to me before taking a seat in his chair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked after a tentative sip of his coffee.

I was the first to admit I wasn't the best judge of character and intent, but Reeve's offer seemed sincere. With a twinge of regret, I declined.

"Maybe another time."

I offered him an apologetic smile to let him know I appreciated the offer. I had encountered few friendly faces on this planet so far and I certainly hadn't imagined I would find one among Shinra's top echelons.

Reeve nodded.

"You mentioned starships. As in space travel?"

I noticed an enthusiastic gleam in his eyes. While not his department, I wasn't surprised to find an engineer drawn to the idea of a spaceship project. James hadn't been immune, either.

"Yes. A desperate attempt to escape a dying planet. None of them have been completed yet. If any of them will be, and in time to make a difference, well..." I shook my head. "That remains to be seen."

"Sounds like you don't think that will happen."

"A spaceship carrying a few dozen, maybe hundreds? Sure, that could work. But the millions they propose, travelling far enough to find a habitable planet? No, I don't see that happening."

It was a popular undertaking, though. There was something romantic and liberating about the notion, I supposed, about leaving the past behind to seek a brighter future in the vast unknown. A freedom that appealed to dreamers and thrill-seekers alike. The advertising certainly did its best to depict the idea as a bold adventure for all of humanity.

"It would make more sense if the companies building the starships were only pretending to offer salvation to millions," I added with a dark smile, "to raise the funds to build one for themselves and take off before anyone realized what they were up to."

Reeve raised his eyebrows.

"That's awfully cynical of you."

"Yes, well, my faith in humanity has suffered lately," I muttered, bringing the cup to my lips.

"I didn't say you were wrong."

I noted the shadow that passed over his features, but Reeve asked me another question before I could contemplate its meaning.

"These starships, did I understand correctly that they are built in space? Meaning you have already launched people into space successfully?"

After that, the discussion continued on more neutral ground with a comparison of space programs. I would have thought that a civilization capable of producing robots for military use would have been farther along in space exploration, but manned space flight still eluded the people of Gaia. Reeve theorized that if Scarlet had been into space travel instead of mechanized weapons, the situation might have been reversed. He seemed to hold little regard for Palmer, the man in charge of Shinra's space exploration department.

Reno joined us late in the afternoon, dragging his scruffy self through the door without his usual swagger, only to throw himself into the nearest chair. To make his mood clear beyond a doubt, the Turk let out a drawn-out groan.

"Good evening, Reno," I greeted him, keeping my voice breezy.

"How was the vacation?" Reeve asked in a similar tone, without looking up from his work.

"Vacation? Hah!"

"Sounds like you had a good time," the executive commented.

Standing next to Reeve, I could see the smirk on his face. We had just enough time to share an amused glance before Reno launched into full rant mode.

"I hate Wutai," he whined. "I hate mountains. I hate sleazy slumlord pricks. I hate rookies who don't get that bein' off the clock means bein' off the fuckin' clock and run off to get themselves stuck neck-deep in shit and make the rest of us have to work, with goddamn eco terrorists I might add, to get 'em out of it!"

After the last monster of a sentence, he fell into a fuming silence while Reeve and I traded another look and poorly hidden grins. It was clear from his demeanor that the redhead was just taking the chance to blow off steam. Whatever had happened, he wasn't too broken up about it.

"The food was all right, tho'," Reno added as an afterthought.

"Go on," I nudged. "Tell us all about it."

I doubted the man needed encouragement, but judging by the way his face lit up, the prompt wasn't unwelcome. Reno likely left out work-related details, but he managed to weave a gripping, if somewhat rambling tale of adventure and intrigue in the west while Reeve and I finished up for the day.

His description of Wutai's villages and nature ignited a burning curiosity in me about the outside world. All I had seen of it was what had been shown in news reports on TV. In all my months on this strange new world, I hadn't so much as caught a glimpse from a window.

As the Turk led me out of the workshop after the day's work, I gathered my courage.

"Reno, I'd like to see Midgar."

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and shook his head.

"Sorry Fitz, can't take ya out of HQ."

"It doesn't have to be outside. A window would be fine. I just want to see what the city looks like."

We came to a halt by the elevator. Reno hit the call button and checked his watch while we waited.

"Yeah, all right," he said right before the doors pinged open. "The library floor has a pretty good view, yo."

I couldn't stop the large smile that spread across my face. I was barely able keep still while the elevator brought us toward our destination. Reno seemed amused, but kept any comments to himself.

A few minutes later, I was approaching not just a window, but a whole wall made of glass. It was dark outside, and I felt my heart speed up with a naive sense of excitement at the prospect of a nighttime view.

I walked up to the window, holding my breath, and touched its smooth surface with light fingertips. My mouth hung open and I was distantly aware of Reno watching me with a smirk on his face. I must have looked like a star-struck schoolgirl, but I didn't care. This was Midgar. Gaia. This was my first proper look at a foreign, alien world.

Never had I seen anything like the city spreading out below us. A pizza, the Turk had called it once, and an apt description it was. The nearly full semicircle I could see from this vantage point was divided into neat, symmetrical sectors by massive walls. It was so strictly geometric, so flagrantly artificial, as if its creators had sought to defy the laws of nature with every aspect of its construction.

We were up high; so high that I wondered if the top of the Shinra tower touched the slate gray blanket of clouds draped low over the city. None of the aspiring skyscrapers could reach us. Far below them, matchbox houses lined thin ribbon streets, laid out in ordered patterns that followed the lines and curves of the sectors.

At even intervals in the distance, massive pillars of smoke, lit from underneath by a fluorescent green glow, billowed out of immense smokestacks until they melted into the thick layer of clouds. Mako reactors, I surmised. Their eerie light blocked out everything beyond the city limits, giving the surreal impression of being suspended midair with nothing but a misty haze in the darkness beyond.

"It's incredible," I breathed.

"If ya say so," Reno said with a cynical smile, sauntering up to join me by the window.

I looked over to respond, but my eyes caught something else before they found the man's face. Beyond his shoulder, I saw a different scene. An empty void where street lights and neon signs should have been, lined by twisted metal and broken cables. I had seen it before, on the TV screen.

"Sector Seven," I whispered.

There was something deeply unsettling about the sight, a still but menacing reminder of the frailty underlying the grand first impression.

"What's left of it."

His tone of voice made me glance up at him. Reno hadn't turned around to look at the sector, nor was he looking at me. The smile was still there, but it had changed. As I looked back over the triangle-shaped darkness, a thought occurred to me.

"Did you live there?"

He shifted his weight, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets. His restless eyes wandered over the scenery in the opposite direction.

"Nah."

"Did you know people who did?"

"Not really."

The smile was gone now. In the time I had known him, Reno rarely seemed to care much about anything. I frowned and studied his face, trying to figure out why this would have affected him so much.

"Did you know someone who died when–"

"Enough with the questions!" he snapped. "Just shut up and enjoy the fuckin' view, will ya?"

I flinched and drew back, then turned my face toward the window and crossed my arms over my waist. In my peripheral vision, I could see Reno rake a hand through his hair with a sharp exhale.

"Ah shit," he muttered. "I didn't mean to yell like that, babe."

"I'm not your babe," I mumbled automatically, still staring at the emptiness that upset him so.

That's me, babe. That's Shinra. All fucked up.

My eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. His injuries, right after the incident. His attitude. The dark look Reeve had given him when speaking about the "dreary realities" of working for Shinra, and the unsavory parts of his job I had experienced personally.

Staring at the ruins of Sector Seven, I mouthed a small "oh".

"Figured it out, did ya?"

His voice was emotionless, as were the eyes that were watching me when I glanced up. His jaw tightened upon seeing my shocked expression, but otherwise the man remained still. Several seconds ticked by in smothering silence, until he scoffed and looked out over the cityscape.

"Don't look at me like that," Reno growled, no longer bothering to hide his anger. "I may be the worst kind of asshole, but I ain't a fuckin' monster."

I kept myself so very still. Even my breaths were quick and shallow. The only part of me that failed to stay stationary was my heart; it battered my ribs as if it wanted to punch its way to freedom through my chest.

"Out of sight, out of mind," the Turk continued after a while, his voice now lifeless but startling in the tense silence. "Worked pretty well for me in the past, y'know? But now that damn hole in the ground is there to stay. Had to change the route I take to work just so I wouldn't have to see it every goddamn morning."

"Why did you do it?"

Reno laughed. It was a jarring, bitter sound compared to my timid voice.

"You think I had any fuckin' choice? Thought you were smarter than that, FitzEvan."

"You just do what they tell you? Anything they say?"

I regretted my questioning straight away, as the man spun his head back around to level his face with mine. I shrunk back, but his eyes already had mine ensnared.

"I'm a Turk," he snarled. "I hurt, I lie, I kill, just 'cause the big bosses say so. I do their dirty work, 'cause that's what it fuckin' takes to keep on livin'. I do what I gotta do to survive. Ain't that how it works for any goddamn animal, Doctor?"

The smoldering rage in his eyes burned into me, choking the air from my lungs. Even after I was able to tear my face away from his and squeeze my eyes shut, I could sense it radiating off of the man. The almost-forgotten fear returned, as strong as ever and so close to strapping me back into the interrogation chair. I felt myself begin to tremble and hugged myself tighter in an instinctive attempt to hide my weakness, even though I knew it was pointless. He was too damned observant.

Something else dawned on me. Sector 7 was a huge cover-up. I had seen the news reports. Immense expense and effort must have gone into fabricating news stories, creating evidence to incriminate the terrorist group, producing fake witnesses for interviews.

Silencing the real witnesses.

Blood drained from my face as I realized the implications of the situation. I knew the truth now. Reno, one of Shinra's black-ops agents, knew that I knew.

"Hey."

A hand touched my shoulder and I gasped, twisting out of reach. Lacking the courage to face the Turk, I glanced sideways at him. It was absurd, but even in my terrified state I couldn't help but feel guilty when I saw a look of hurt pass over his features. He let his arm fall to the side in a slow and deliberate move, then nodded toward the door.

"I'll take ya back to your room."

The anger had faded from his voice, or maybe he was just hiding it again. He hadn't fully mustered the usual nonchalance, though. His lips were pressed together in a firm line and when our eyes met briefly as he held the door open for me, there was something akin to dejection in his.

The return to the ward was laden with awkward silence.

Chapter Text

During the wee hours of the night, I jolted back into awareness, ensnared in damp sheets. I lay still with rigid limbs, too terrified to move, until at long last the senseless fear from yet another vicious dream began to fade. It had been a week since a night like this – something of a record, really – but it wasn't difficult to guess why the nightmares had returned.

I stared up into the darkness, afraid of losing myself in the shadows of my unconscious mind again, and wondered if the morning would find me dead or in one of Shinra's holding cells. Reno followed his superiors' orders, regardless of his personal feelings. He had said so himself. The life of one lone captive was nothing compared to all the ones he had already taken.

I could still see the darkness of Sector 7 staring back at me, the torn wires and struts sticking out like severed tendons and broken bones in a gaping wound; the emptiness such a harsh contrast to the brimming life of the brightly lit sectors around it. I recalled the interviews with distraught victims on the news, yet instead of sympathizing in dismayed outrage, I found myself wondering how many of them had been fake. What could I believe anymore? Who could I trust? The company controlled everything.

Once the hustle and bustle of breakfast had died down to the usual tranquility of the ward, I remained seated by the small table in the lounge with disinterested eyes aimed at the TV screen. I was loath to return to the solitude of my room with nothing but distressed thoughts as company. Time lost meaning as I lost myself somewhere between the moving pictures.

"Well, well. Just the woman I was looking for."

The sultry voice shot a chill down my spine, startling me back to the present. The blonde executive stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. The dress was a different one, but just as red and revealing as the one I had seen on her before.

"What do you want?" I asked, rising to my feet as Scarlet entered the room.

"Thought we could have a talk, that's all. A little heart-to-heart."

The sneer on her painted lips held a different promise. As she advanced, I backed away at a matching pace, keeping the table between us.

"So, tell me," she continued with false geniality, "what are you and Tuesti up to?"

I glanced at the door. My initial retreat had taken me farther from it, but if I could get her to follow me around the table, I would have a shot at making a run for it to find someone. Anyone, as long as it meant I wasn't alone with this woman.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Still playing dumb? I guess I'll have to do something about that."

Her cackle made my skin crawl. I reached the short end of the table just as Scarlet arrived at its opposite side, dragging her red nails along the white surface as she rounded one corner of it. I thought of bloodied claws on snow.

"I really don't know anything," I insisted. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Oh, but you're much more fun to play with. So, I'll ask again and if I hear 'I don't know' one more time, I might just lose my patience. What does Tuesti want with you, hm?"

Just a little further, and the coast would be clear. A few more steps.

"He wants my suit. That's all."

"Oh please, you can do better than that. He already has the suit. Why does he want you?"

My arm bumped a solid surface and I flinched, instinctively looking away from the other woman. The moment I laid eyes on the small shelving unit, slender fingers gripped my jaw, yanking my face back around to stare straight into Scarlet's cold eyes. The woman was fast. Deceptively strong, too. I tried to jerk my head away, but the hand squeezed my chin in an iron grip, pushing my head back against the wall until I decided it best to stop struggling.

The executive took several seconds to study my face while my breathing grew more and more ragged, then gave me a cavalier smile. The grip on my face loosened.

"This doesn't have to get unpleasant. In fact, maybe there's a little something I could do for you in return."

I had barely processed what she had said when a manicured finger traced the line of my jaw, its long nail lightly scraping the skin. I froze, my eyes going wide.

"I could get you out of here. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Scarlet purred. "All you have to do is give me the dirty details on Tuesti. Tell me what he's planning and you'll be free."

Half-formed thoughts crashed and tumbled in my head. Just what the hell was going on here? My mouth opened and closed several times before it managed to form a question.

"Why would you do that?"

"Us girls should stick together. It's much more satisfying if we both get something out of it, don't you think?" The smile grew wicked as her hand slid down to rest around my throat. "It's really quite simple. You help me and I help you. What do you say?"

Was she threatening me or coming on to me? I could no longer tell. I had no idea how to deal with this either. I just stared at her, bewildered and wide-eyed, flattening myself against the wall. Maybe if I pressed back hard enough, the wall might have mercy and swallow me up.

"Sorry to interrupt the party, but I gotta nab your lil' plaything."

Never had I been so glad to hear that loud irreverent voice, but the increased pressure on my throat kept the relief at bay. Scarlet's gaze hardened into blue ice, but stayed firmly on my face.

"Leave, Turk. This 'party' is private."

"No can do. The girl's gotta be somewhere else, yo."

The woman twisted sideways, her head whipping around to face Reno. I could see the man past her shoulder, unperturbed by the glare leveled upon him.

"Says who? Tuesti?"

"Orders from the Prez. Want 'em changed? Go talk to him."

A startled gasp passed through my lips, the blood rushing from my face. Reno wasn't here to help me, was he? He was here as a Turk, sent in to deal with someone who knew too much, just as I had feared.

Scarlet glanced back at me. The annoyance plain on her face melted into satisfaction as she took in my shocked expression.

"Well, in that case," she crooned, releasing me. "Don't want to keep the President waiting, do we?"

Reno stepped aside to let the executive saunter out of the room, then propped himself in the doorway with one shoulder against the doorframe. Still, silent as a shadow, the faint smirk plastered on his face like a mask. His eyes examined me, half-lidded but unflinching, while I clung to the wall for support. I could only meet them for a couple of seconds before mine wandered downward, settling on the unkempt shirt revealed by the open jacket.

"She's lying to get what she wants, y'know. You can't trust her."

Why was he talking to me? He could at least make it quick.

"Am I supposed to trust you instead?"

My resentful remark brought no change. His eyes bored into me for a few more moments, but then he directed them toward the TV.

"Reeve asked for ya. You know what to do."

I did a double take. "Reeve? Not the–"

"You heard me."

The flood of relief was diminished by the man's curt behavior. He kept his eyes averted and despite the lifeless voice, I sensed a tension simmering right beneath the lax surface. I studied the profile of his blank face, trying to reign in the growing apprehension. I wasn't sure what I had expected after last night, but such coldness came as an unpleasant surprise.

"C'mon, get a move on. Don't got all day, yo."

The edge of irritated impatience cut deep. So, this was how it was going to be, then? Now that I knew one dark truth, the Turk had decided to skip the pretense of friendship too? I swallowed the bitter disappointment and obeyed.

As we walked to the workshop, the man yawned several times and kept rubbing his bloodshot eyes. He didn't mention the previous evening, nor did I. I didn't know what to say.

Reno stayed for a while, though I had no idea why. He said very little and made no attempt to initiate the usual banter. His apathy made me more uneasy than I wanted to admit. It reminded me of the cold-hearted man who had tormented me in the interrogation room.

The mind is a funny thing. On some level I must have thought of that person as a separate being, a different Reno, and didn't like having my conscious delusion toppled. It made me question myself and my actions, and drew attention to the fact that my personal safety was little more than an illusion, too.

The illusion of safety. There was another strange mechanism of a psyche under long-term duress. The human mind's capacity for self-deception never ceased to amaze me.

The redhead had pulled Reeve aside for a hushed report as soon as we arrived, no doubt on what he had witnessed in the patient lounge, but neither man had brought it up with me. Fine by me; I didn't want to talk about it. However, while I would rather have just forgotten about the awkward encounter, I couldn't push Scarlet's offer of freedom out of my mind – or perhaps more accurately, the Turk's warning about it. Yes, she was likely lying, but why should I just take Reno's word over hers? He was the one who lied and deceived for a living.

Every time my eyes fell on the Turk's uncaring face, it bloody well hurt. The worst part was that I had only myself to blame. What had I expected, really? Genuine amity? A bit of human compassion? I had seen what he could do long ago. I should have known that instead of a conscience there would only be darker secrets to discover.

Reeve noticed the frosty atmosphere, of course. When the redhead left the workshop, stalking out without a word, he asked me about it. I was hesitant to discuss the disastrous evening with a third party, until I realized Reeve might be the only ally I had left. As a Shinra executive, he must have been aware of the truth behind the Sector 7 incident, but everything I knew about the man suggested that he wouldn't have approved of it.

"Reno took me to the library floor so I could see Midgar," I said, testing the waters. "I guess he didn't realize I would also see Sector Seven from that side of the building."

The muscles in Reeve's jaw tightened.

"Ah. A damned disgrace, that was."

That was all I got. The executive wasn't going to volunteer information on the company's dirty secrets. If I wanted to talk about it, I would have to expose how much I already knew. Well, so be it. Reno would probably inform him of it sooner or later, anyway.

"It was Shinra, wasn't it?"

The man's eyebrows shot up, but otherwise he kept his composure.

"I see now," he said after a pause, then sighed. "It was Shinra, yes. I protested it, of course." He glanced around the workshop with a crooked smile. "Hence I spend my time in here for now, instead of in my office."

"What do you mean?"

"The President – the old one, that is – wasn't impressed by my attempt to bring reason into the boardroom. He 'suggested' I take some time off."

Quieting the voices of dissent. That certainly fit the image of Shinra I had pieced together.

"But there's a new President now?"

"There is, yes, but the old board remains and the executives are a stubborn bunch." The smile widened, but remained sardonic. "Maybe a break will be good for me. A chance to clear my head. Make some new friends."

I got the impression there was something hidden in his words. Why, I don't know. Maybe I had gotten better at looking for signs of deception after everything that had happened. Maybe I had just finally succumbed to paranoia.

Whatever it was, I had more important questions to ask right now. I glanced over at the door Reno had disappeared through only minutes before.

"So you avoid the people who made the call, yet you don't mind spending time with the Turk who actually made it happen?"

Reeve was silent for a while. Perhaps I had been a little too direct with my enquiry.

"Do you ask that of me, or yourself?"

I grew still as my words took on a whole new meaning. That was it, wasn't it? The troubling question I had been asking myself all day, now solidified into words and staring me in the face, though in my head it had sounded more like "What the hell is wrong with me?".

"I know what he put you through," the executive confessed quietly, his eyes fixed on an unfinished project on the nearest workbench. "I also know it didn't sit right with him."

I felt cold. The conversation had veered in a direction I had neither expected nor desired.

"Were you involved?"

I had to ask, despite the possibility that I wouldn't like the answer. To my relief, Reeve shook his head and lifted his eyes to meet mine.

"No. Unknown intruders inside HQ don't fall under Urban Development." A faint smirk. "Let's just say I've had to deal with the fallout."

"Explain in clear-cut sentences," I asked, keeping my tone neutral with some effort. "Please."

"Nothing is clear-cut when it comes to Reno," Reeve sighed with a subdued chuckle. "He's nothing but a bunch of crooked lines to read between. It's there in little things that don't mean much on their own, but together they begin to form a picture. An offhand suggestion here, a strange decision there. Maybe a few words that slip out if I happen to I find him in here nursing a bottle of whiskey, like last night."

It was difficult not to squirm under the pointed look he gave me.

"Why do you think that's to do with me? I hate to say it, but the man's got plenty of reasons to drink."

"True, but he didn't mention other reasons. He mentioned you."

My stomach fluttered with a confused unease I couldn't rationalize, but I shook my head with a harsh laugh.

"'Out of sight, out of mind.' That's what Reno claims is his way of dealing with a guilty conscience. Well, he sure hasn't tried to keep me out of his sight."

The man wasn't deterred by my bitter objection and remained thoughtful, his eyes once again aimed at the exposed machinery nearby. It was one of Reno's frivolous projects, I realized. Perhaps Reeve hoped an examination of the crisscrossing wires and half-finished soldering might elucidate the thought patterns of its creator.

"Maybe he just doesn't want you out of his mind."

Another cryptic comment. What a surprise. I gritted my teeth, struggling to keep my composure. I was too tired for this. Too rattled. Still, I made an effort.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The executive traced his beard in thought, taking a few moments to formulate his answer.

"Well, let me put it this way. He can't bring back those who were lost when the plate fell, but he was able to return you to the land of the living, so to speak. You're not just a reminder of past wrongdoings."

"Gee, you say the sweetest things, Reeve."

He smiled, letting go of his chin to rest his hands on his hips instead.

"You know what I mean."

As I tried to derive some sense from the vague information he had decided to share, my gaze landed on Reno's unfinished engineering project. To me, it just looked like a hopeless, tangled mess. I idly wondered if it best symbolized him, me or our relationship; then scoffed with amused derision at my own thoughts.

"Do I? I'm not so sure anymore."

"I can't claim to know what Reno's thinking," the executive mused. "I'm not sure he himself knows at times. But I do know that he keeps bending an awful lot of rules for you."

My head was slowly turning from side to side. Until this morning, Reno's quirky goodwill had seemed genuine. It was just so hard to believe someone like that could be sincere. It was even harder to trust myself to recognize it. I had been terribly wrong about people before.

"To return to your original question..." Reeve's words were measured, almost hesitant. "Reno may have a knack for creative interpretation of the rules, but not even he can afford to disobey direct orders. None of the Turks can, not anymore. They have been through some difficult times recently."

"I heard there used to be a lot more of them," I said, recalling Amanda's gossip. "Is that what you mean?"

"Yes," he sighed. "I'm sorry, but the less said about that, the better."

"Why? Because Reno killed them?"

Reeve actually looked shocked. That was a relief, I supposed.

"What? Where did you hear that?"

I shrugged. "Rumors."

"Well, you shouldn't believe everything you hear whispered around here," he scoffed. "Reno didn't kill any of them. They were his colleagues, his friends. Their departure hit him hard."

Reno, hit hard? It was difficult to imagine him caring that much about anything.

Then I remembered the look on his face the night before, the pent-up anger and the bitterness. Maybe it wasn't so difficult, after all.

"They left?"

Reeve straightened and shook his head.

"I've already told you too much. I'll say no more on this subject. Both for your sake and theirs."

The half-acknowledged truths and constant evasion annoyed me beyond belief, but I had learned enough about Shinra's policies regarding secrets to know Reeve had a crucial point. Midgar was a dangerous place for someone with too much knowledge. It wasn't as if I would know what to do with that kind of information, anyway.

"I've known Reno since he was rookie," he continued. "If he gets on your nerves now, imagine the guy as a hormonal teenager." He chuckled when I made a face. "Made the mistake of upgrading that mag rod of his once or twice. Now I can't get rid of him."

"Sounds familiar," I mumbled to myself, unable to keep a small smile from my lips.

"Still, it's not like he spent all of his downtime in my workshop before. I imagine he annoyed his comrades on the Turk floor instead. But now, well..."

Three of them left, Amanda had said, plus a new rookie. Reno never talked about the details of his job, but just by seeing him come and go, it seemed a lot of field work was involved. Much more than before, I guessed, if the severely decimated unit had to deal with an unchanged workload. The others probably spent just as little time at the office. It was odd to think of the carefree, chatty redhead as lonely, but I got the feeling that was Reeve's point.

"He's not a bad kid," he sighed with a melancholy look on his face. "Loud, rude, obnoxious, but not a bad kid. That's the problem."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a strange daze. Reeve tinkered with the suit's programming, which meant many extended breaks for me. I spent them with my face buried in some article the executive had brought for me to read, but my eyes kept retreading the first paragraph. I was haunted by recent conversations, hearing them replay time and time again in my mind.

You think I had any fuckin' choice?

He keeps bending an awful lot of rules for you.

I'm a Turk. I hurt, I lie, I kill.

No even he can afford to disobey direct orders.

I didn't know what to think anymore. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Was I supposed to do anything at all, for that matter? Hell, why was I even agonizing over this? The man was a killer with more on his conscience than I could imagine. He had left plenty of invisible scars on me. I owed him nothing.

Maybe so, but the situation just didn't feel right. The peculiar dichotomy reared its head again. It hadn't been Reno the coldblooded Turk who had spent time with us in the workshop. It had just been Reno, as quick with his playful grins as with his comebacks. If I was completely honest with myself, I already missed his company. I even missed the godawful jokes.

He mentioned you.

I recalled the hurt on his face as I recoiled from him and the brief glimpse of the resigned absence of hope within. Some emotion stirred deep inside me. It may have been guilt or empathy; it may have been something else entirely. All I knew was that it wouldn't allow me to give up on Reno without so much as an attempt to talk to the man. When he came back, I would at least try.

Only by the time our work came to an end for that day, the red-haired Turk hadn't returned.

Chapter Text

The coffee machine filled its corner of the workshop with a pleasant aroma as it sputtered dark liquid into the pot. I drew in a deep breath of the mocha-scented air, but my moment of reverie was interrupted when Reeve waved me over to his computer.

"I'd like your professional opinion on something."

He brought up an image on the monitor just as I came up beside him.

"What's this?" I asked, peering at some kind of aerial map.

"Midgar and the surrounding landscape."

My curiosity aroused, I bent forward to give the photo a more careful examination.

"Huh, okay. That's the city there, I suppose, but all this...?"

I gestured at the large, dark area surrounding the irregular dot in the middle of the picture.

"Wasteland, basically."

I sent him an odd look when he didn't continue, but the man remained silent, watching me with an expectant expression.

"And?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"What are your thoughts?"

I returned to the picture, scrutinizing it with more care. Something occurred to me as I compared the barren area with the green landscape that surrounded it.

"I'm thinking the founders of Midgar didn't decide to build a city in the middle of a wasteland."

Reeve nodded.

"This was a grassy plain thirty years ago and it stayed that way for a decade or two after the city was built. The first changes were slow, but now it's spreading faster every year."

"Nobody has a problem with this?" I wondered, alarmed by the implication that the desolation was allowed to escalate unchecked.

"I wouldn't say that," he said with a small, surprisingly sly smirk. "Why do you think AVALANCHE is so hell-bent on bringing Shinra down?"

"A group of eco warriors? That's it?" I shook my head, folding my arms over my chest. "Back home, the sudden appearance of a barren area on this scale would be a huge red flag. The world in general would be up in arms, not just the scientific community. We take land degradation very seriously these days. We can't afford not to."

Reeve hummed in acknowledgement, then fell silent and stared at the image.

"The official Shinra stance is that it's nothing to worry about," he said after a few moments. "Any claims to the opposite get dismissed as unfounded rumors spread by ignorant hysterics or scare tactics used by enemies of the company."

Something in his tone, combined with the little creases between his eyebrows, made me suspect I was in the company of a voice of dissent.

"You don't sound convinced."

"There are those who hold a different opinion. They say the Mako reactors are to blame and will eventually destroy the Planet."

"'They', huh? Are you one of 'them'?"

He folded his arms over his chest and was silent for a while.

"Not exactly, I suppose. Certainly not back when I designed the new reactors, but over the years I have come to suspect that something isn't right. Recently, that suspicion has only grown stronger. The part about the whole Planet dying, though... It's hard to imagine that could happen."

"It can be hard to accept," I said quietly.

"Yes. Your descriptions of Earth's problems have been eye-opening. Combined with everything else I've seen and heard lately... Well, I think this needs to be looked into."

I took in the damage surrounding the metropolis. As far as I could tell I was looking at a photo with natural colors, which made the image all the more disconcerting. It wasn't the beige or brown might expect from the desiccated soil of a developing desert. The ring around Midgar was a filthy dark grey, like a taint consuming the landscape.

"I think you're right."

"Is the damage reversible?"

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Shouldn't you be asking someone who knows your planet?"

There was a pause before he answered. The creases on his forehead deepened.

"I talked to a highly regarded scholar of the Study of Planet Life recently. He claims the Planet can't be saved."

My stomach lurched, much to my surprise. I hadn't expected that such a phrase would faze me much these days. As my personal long-term survival was uncertain, I hadn't thought much about Gaia's situation, but the notion that this planet was in a better state than my own must have seeped into my awareness nonetheless. Deep down, some hope had taken root.

"Well, that's reassuring," I remarked dryly, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut. "And now you're hoping a different scientist will give you an opinion you like more?"

A cynical smirk, mirroring the one on my own face, softened the man's somber frown.

"It's the Shinra way."

I chuckled. "A for effort, I suppose. If you want a different point of view, you can't beat one coming from another world."

His smile widened, but soon his features grew solemn again.

"All joking aside, Bugenhagen tends to think on a geological time scale. The end he's referring to might be who knows how many millennia from now. I'm more interested in the next few decades."

"Fair enough."

"I also brought this up with a few researchers from the Science Department, but none of them consider it an issue worthy of their time. So please, indulge me."

It was pleasant to discuss a problem that was more or less related to my field, for once. Shame, then, that I couldn't give him any precise answers.

"If this was a picture from Earth some fifty years ago, I'd be hopeful. If it was Earth today, not so much. But Gaia?" I shook my head and sighed. "I really can't say. I need to learn more about this world, especially on the properties of your magical Mako. I'd like to visit the wasteland with Sparky and talk to this Bugenhagen myself, but I guess that's out of the question."

"I could give you the reports on Mako analyses conducted at the reactors and get copies of Bugenhagen's treatises on the Planet," the executive suggested after a short deliberation.

My eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise. It seemed Reeve was serious about finding solutions to the problem. Better yet, he wanted me to help him discover them.

"It's a start, but I need to learn about Mako's biological effects as well."

My request was met with a discouraged grimace.

"That's trickier. Hojo and his team keep their research close to their chests and will become suspicious if someone like me even asks about it." He fell into another contemplative silence, stroking his trimmed beard into even neater perfection. "Maybe Reno has ideas."

"Reno has lots of ideas. Most of them bad ones."

I hoped my crooked smile would conceal the rattled emotions within. I hadn't seen the redhead since he had skulked out of the workshop the morning before. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear for a day or two, but I couldn't help but worry that this time it wasn't just for work.

Reeve chuckled.

"True. I'll give him a call and ask him to drop by later. In the mean time, why don't you tell me about the efforts to restore Earth?"

A nervous twinge unsettled my gut at the prospect of seeing the Turk again, but I couldn't let my apprehension get in the way of the new direction Reeve had in mind for our cooperation. Forcing the jitters down, I focused on the present conversation.

"None of them have been successful so far," I reminded him.

"That may be, but I'm curious about the avenues you have pursued. It may give me some ideas."

I took in the serious eyes and the determined set of his jaw, hinting at a resolve I could relate to so well.

"Looking to fix your world, Reeve?"

"My reactors enabled Shinra's utilization of Gaia's Mako reserves on a whole new scale. I'd say the fame and glory comes with a certain degree of responsibility."

He offered a wry smile, but his voice held the same conviction I saw in his eyes.

"All right," I said, smiling. "Let's grab some coffee first, though. This could take a while."

I wasn't sure if Reeve's call would bring Reno in the same day, but as the clock was about to reach five in the evening, the Turk strolled into the workshop. Unfortunately, his demeanor hadn't changed. Reno remained aloof and distant, barely acknowledging me before engaging in discussion with the other man, yet I could have sworn I sensed his eyes on me whenever mine were averted.

"Reno, could you walk Tess back to her room?" Reeve asked once the two had come to an agreement. "We're done here for the day."

The Turk was already halfway to the door. Had I not been watching him leave, I would have missed the way he froze for a moment.

"Whatever, yo."

I bristled at his irritated dismissal, but Reno refused to meet my heated gaze. He leaned back against the wall by the side of the door and busied himself with his phone while I finished up and said my goodbyes to Reeve. He said nothing to me as I came up to him, just held the door open and fell into step beside me once I had passed through.

I'd had enough. Just as the elevators came into view, I stopped in my tracks. The Turk halted a couple of steps later and turned his emotionless face to me, only raising an eyebrow.

"Take us somewhere we can talk," I suggested.

"The fuck's there to talk 'bout?"

A prickly and uncooperative reaction, much like the man himself. Unsure of how to tackle this, I decided to play it straight.

"You're acting weird. I don't like it."

My forthright reply didn't go over well, though the only indication was a slight narrowing of the eyes. I was surprised that I was able to pick up on it, to be honest. I must have been getting better at reading the man.

"Yeah?" he asked in a bored voice. "You're bein' pretty damn annoyin' yourself right now."

"And now you're being a jerk, too," I snapped.

Something flashed in his eyes, breaking the damnable apathy. My brain made an unexpected connection and reminded me of a similar situation in the past.

"Do I have to throw goddamn paperclips at you before you'll listen to me?" I asked, giving him a pointed look.

That had the desired effect. Reno tensed for a second, taken aback, then looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

"Come on, take us somewhere quiet," I said in a softer tone. "Please."

"Fine, whatever."

After a short elevator ride, we arrived at a balcony about midway up the Shinra tower. Used for smoking breaks, I surmised, spotting several ash trays by the wall and railing. About a third of the city – a third which didn't contain the gaping hole of Sector 7, I noted – spread out far below us. The neon lights were beginning to glow brighter in the approaching dusk, though they could not compete with the Mako reactors in the distance, or the greenish light bathing the tower itself.

It was a calm night, with only a slight breeze jostling my curls from time to time. I inhaled deeply, breathing in Midgar air for the first time. There was an unusual smell, faint but enduring, as if it was a part of the city itself. It reminded me of ozone, but with a strange undertone I couldn't place. Mako, I guessed.

Reno walked over to the railing and placed his hands on it, hunching his shoulders as he scanned the view. The man had literally turned his back on me, as if this wasn't difficult enough as it was. I was no expert on dealing with sensitive topics. I couldn't even claim to be a particularly good listener.

Why had I suggested this again?

I nearly planted my face in my palm when I made the connection. Curse that blasted Reeve and his subtle instigation! It had been deliberate, I was sure of it. Well, that answered the question of how the mild-mannered man had managed to land a high-ranking position in such a cutthroat environment.

I wanted nothing more than to flee back to the elevators, but I had pushed us this far already. I couldn't back down now. I steeled myself with a deep breath, then broke the uncomfortable silence.

"You seemed very angry that night..."

"Fuck yeah, I'm angry."

My voice was too timid and hesitant, his more like a growl. What a great start. I folded my arms over my chest as if to shield myself, then asked the first thing that popped into my head.

"Do you blame yourself?"

Reno scoffed and pushed himself up straighter.

"The hell kinda question is that?" he snapped, digging around one of the jacket pockets with jerky movements. "I dropped the damn thing, didn't I?"

Okay, maybe that wasn't such a great strategy. While the redhead lit a cigarette from the carton he had produced from his pocket, I pinched the bridge of my nose and gave the next comment some thought before opening my mouth.

"It couldn't have been just you, though. An operation like that can't have been a one-man job."

"Yeah, sure, it wasn't just me. Tseng planned it. Rude rigged the bombs. I set 'em off. It was a real first class team effort, yo."

The sarcasm in the last sentence was so thick I could practically feel it stick to my skin and draw out an irritated blush. With some difficulty, I suppressed the automatic aggravation and focused on what he had said. Rude's name I had heard before. I guessed Tseng was another Turk.

"And the President gave the order. It wasn't your idea."

"Yeah," he said, his tone flat. "Just followin' orders, like the good lil' Shinra dogs we are."

Why did I bother? I wanted to know more so I could understand, but instead of leading to answers, everything I said just seemed to give him more anger to bottle up. What was I supposed to do? Were there any right questions at all? What if there were no answers I would want to hear?

I almost jumped at the sound of his voice when Reno decided to continue without another prompt.

"It wasn't always like this, y'know. I mean, the job was never 'bout rainbows and unicorns, but that was okay, 'cause someone's gotta do what it takes to keep things rollin', yeah? The righteous pricks out there who cry 'bout the shady shit Shinra does would cry a whole lot louder if the Mako powerin' all their precious thingamabobs suddenly stopped flowin'."

He paused to inhale a lungful of smoke, which escaped gradually in sharp, agitated puffs as he spoke.

"Sure, some of the shit we did wasn't pretty back then either, but at least it made some damn sense. Think I'm gonna feel bad 'bout breakin' some punk's fingers when he just blew a bunch of Shinra employees sky-high? Think again. You ask me, assholes like that have it comin'."

I was not as horrified as I would have expected by his casual admission of inflicting serious injury. The fact that I already knew the man was capable of it and worse was hardly an explanation; if anything, it would have been – should have been – a very good reason to leave. Yet instead I moved in beside him and leaned on the railing. That was perhaps the most alarming factor of all in this equation.

The Turk had fallen silent, but out of the corner of my eye I could see the muscles in his jaw working. I tilted my head his way, but kept my eyes on the cityscape in front of us.

"So, what happened?"

Reno took a long drag of his cigarette, followed by an even longer exhale while he stared at the city below. He showed no inkling of answering, though I couldn't tell whether he hadn't heard my question or had decided to ignore it. I was already wondering if I should try again, when he spoke up.

"I dunno. I can't even say when it changed. It just started goin' downhill bit by bit, y'know? You start out chasin' spies and terrorists, then before you know it, you're messin' up helpless scientists and goin' through with fuckin' mass murder 'cause the boss man says so."

His voice was rising, both in pitch and volume. Now that Reno had gotten some wind into his sails, he didn't need my help to keep going.

"Why'd they have to call 'emselves fuckin' AVALANCHE? These new guys ain't nothin' like the old AVALANCHE, but old man Shinra went off the rails as soon as he heard the name. Finally turned into a complete fuckin' nutjob. I mean, droppin' a goddamn plate just to wipe out a handful of terrorists? What the fuck is up with that?"

He was breathing heavily and his hands were locked tight around the railing, the knuckles whiter than his pale skin. I was uncomfortable being this close to him when he was so furious, but I forced myself to stay still. It wasn't aimed at me. He wouldn't take it out on me, either. I hoped.

"But what the hell could we do?" he scoffed. "We were already up to our eyeballs in shit with the old Prez. Fuckin' do or die, man. I'm no goddamn saint, so if I gotta choose, it ain't gonna be the Turks who do the dyin'. Not if I can fuckin' help it."

Reno was quiet for a moment, staring out at the darkening horizon with unseeing eyes, his chest heaving with labored breaths. Then he laughed; a high-pitched, mocking laugh that didn't sound like him at all.

"Best part is, it didn't even fuckin' work! Thousands dead and those AVALANCHE asshats are still runnin' around out there. Last time we saw 'em, we didn't even bother to fight 'em. Hell, we ended up workin' with the bastards!"

I chewed my lower lip as I listened. I had prodded and poked, driven by a need to understand, and now my brain was busy trying to reconcile Reno's side of events with the news reports and rumors, as if by analyzing everything thoroughly enough I could come up with a rational explanation. Something I could point to and say "the facts clearly show that this was wrong".

The more I heard and digested, though, the less inclined I was to let my mind continue its work. This wasn't science. It wasn't beautifully ordered black and white, but a chaotic mess of endless gray: subjective, flawed and very much human.

"It's all a joke, ain't it? Just one big fuckin' joke, only it ain't funny."

On an intellectual level, I understood that the Sector 7 incident was an immense travesty. Emotionally, however, it was harder to comprehend. Maybe my moral compass was damaged, because at that moment, this single, tangible instance of suffering was much more meaningful than the unfair fates of faceless strangers. This wasn't my world, my city. The lost lives were distant and abstract, while the anguish of the man beside me was very real.

I placed my palm between his shoulder blades. When he didn't move, I began to rub slow circles on his upper back. Even through the layers of fabric, I could feel the tension. I continued the serene motion in silence while Reno finished his cigarette.

Little by little, the rock-hard muscles began to loosen up. When he straightened up, crushing the stub under his boot, I heard him release a shaky sigh. Something about that sound, about the despondency it carried, struck a chord with me. Before I could think it through, my arms were wrapped around his waist. My heart jumped into my throat as soon as my brain caught up with my actions, but recoiling would just have made it worse. I stayed as I was, anxiously waiting for a reaction.

Reno didn't return the tentative hug, but he didn't push me away either, nor did he tense up again. He just stood still and let me hold him. My pulse began to calm down. I closed my eyes. After a while, I felt him rest his chin on my shoulder.

"A guy tells ya he's an evil, selfish asshole and you give him a hug," he mumbled close to my ear. "There's somethin' wrong with ya, Fitz."

"You know, I think we finally found something we can agree on."

I could feel the vibrations as a quiet chuckle reverberated deep in his chest. He placed a hand on the nape of my neck and leaned his head against mine for a second, then pulled away.

Funny how such a small, brief acknowledgement of appreciation could feel so much more intense than grand gestures or dramatic words. I didn't know where to look. I faced the railing and grabbed it because I didn't know what to do with my hands, either.

The air felt cool after the heat of his body so close to mine. When I closed my eyes for a moment, I could still feel the smooth fabric of his suit under my fingers, could recall the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle touch on my neck. I had intended it as comfort for him. I hadn't known that a bit of physical human contact could ease the constant yearning for home in my own heart.

When I eventually glanced up at him, Reno was still avoiding my gaze. The anxious energy was gone, though, as was the anger. There was no smirk dancing in the corner of his lips either, no cocky facade. The thoughtful expression on his face made him appear older, yet at the same time much too young for that worn look around his eyes.

I looked out over the city. It was almost dark now, but the streets below pulsed with the artificial luminescence of street signs and headlights. By contrast, the thin gaps between sectors were nearly black, making it easy to distinguish the triangular slices.

Reno had pulled out the cigarettes again. After I declined the offered pack with a little shake of my head, he took one out for himself.

"Which sectors are these?" I asked as he lit up.

The man pocketed the lighter and leaned on the railing before answering, bending down to rest his elbows on it this time. The wind caught some of the strands that jutted out above his beloved goggles and made them sway back and forth.

"That's three," he said, gesturing to the left-most section, "four and five."

He used two fingers to point out the sectors; the cigarette sandwiched between them glowed like a small guide light as it indicated each sector in turn.

"Where do you live?"

"Five." He took a puff of his smoke, then leaned farther over the railing, craning his neck. "Can't see it from here, tho'. It's right behind that big pipe there."

He waved his hand in the general direction of one of several huge pipes that snaked their way down along Shinra HQ. I followed it down with my eyes, then began weaving a winding route through the brightly lit streets of Sector 4. A shy smile appeared on my face as I toyed with the thought of being down there, walking the streets of this strange new world and exploring what it had to offer.

"Do you think I'll get to see it some time?" I asked hesitantly, not wanting to hear the "no" I was expecting.

Reno turned his head to give me a bewildered look.

"Huh? My place?"

"No," I said with a small laugh. "The city. The streets of Midgar."

The Turk blew smoke out of his nostrils as he studied me for a few seconds, then let his gaze follow mine down to the lights below.

"Yeah. You'll see it someday." The cynical smirk returned, instantly making him appear more like his usual self. "Don't get your hopes up, tho'. It looks better from up here, yo."

My smile grew wide and I leaned over the railing to see more of the tantalizing view. A gust of wind took me by surprise and sent a chill down my back. Caught up in the emotional turmoil, I hadn't realized how cold it had gotten. Now that I had noticed, it was impossible stop shivering.

"C'mon, enough loiterin'," Reno said, taking one last drag before the half-smoked cigarette met the same end as his first. "You'll see it again soon. Midgar ain't goin' anywhere."

Chapter Text

The blood-red fabric had become a warning signal. My whole body tensed up as soon as the elevator doors slid open to reveal a scarlet dress, worn by the woman with the same name. She only gave me a cursory glance as she stepped in, but once the elevator was moving again, Scarlet leveled her full attention on me with the intensity of a hungry predator stalking its prey.

"Well, well," she purred. "Imagine running into you again. I was just thinking about you."

I glanced sideways at my escort. A minute ago, Reno had cracked jokes and laughed. Now, he remained still beside me, slouching against the wall of the elevator as if the world held nothing of interest for him.

Reeve's workshop was only a few floors away. Maybe ignoring the woman was the best strategy.

"What, not even a hello?" she mocked. "Don't they have manners wherever it is that you come from?"

Leave the talking to him, the Turk had said, but he didn't seem at all inclined to handle his part of the agreement. For some reason, Reno had decided to leave me to my own devices.

"Can I help you?" I asked as evenly as I could manage, sticking to the role of an executive's assistant.

"You can say yes, darling. I'm offering a much better deal than Tuesti, wouldn't you agree?"

"No thanks."

Scarlet's smirk oozed malevolent satisfaction. I got the sinking feeling that was the answer she had hoped for.

"What a shame," she crooned. "Seems I have to find another use for you then."

The blonde tapped a finger against her chin as she looked me over, making a show of evaluating me like a piece of meat. My skin crawled under her gaze and I struggled to keep my hands by my sides. Reno still hadn't said anything. Why wouldn't he say anything?

"You know, Hojo has returned to the fold. Full of renewed zeal, ready to take on new projects. I bet he would be very interested to hear about an undercover alien in our midst."

My heart skipped a beat, then burst into a furious pace that drained the blood from my face. My gaze darted to the redhead, but his expression hadn't changed. With growing uncertainty and apprehension, I stared at his impassive form. Hadn't he heard what she said?

"If you think your pet Turk will help you, think again." Her upper lip curled slightly as her lingering eyes wandered over him. "He's just herding you around HQ on an executive's beck and call. Should I tell him to take you to the old creep instead of Tuesti... Well, I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem. Would it, Turk?"

"Nope."

His tone was bored, his manner indifferent. Every inch a Turk, devoid of feeling and attachments. I tried to tell myself it was an act, but the gut-wrenching fear of betrayal was overriding all common sense. Out of sight, out of mind, it cried. He'll never lay eyes on you again once you're locked up in Hojo's lab.

"In fact, why don't we do so right away? Turk, take her to Hojo."

My head spun her way as Scarlet voiced her command, then back again in time to see Reno nod and pull out his keycard. My mouth opened, but failed to produce the deafening "No!" that tore through my mind. I watched with openmouthed disbelief as he leaned forward to swipe the card, then hit a button on the control panel with a lazy swat.

Number sixty-seven lit up. For a second, the smell of antiseptic returned to me as clear as if my nose had just picked up on it. I felt ill.

"See? Even Reno has learned that Shinra has no use for insubordinate Turks."

My eyes flickered between the man's face and the floor indicator, increasing at a steady, merciless pace. He refused to even look at me. Staring straight ahead with distant eyes, his face revealed no emotion. Stabbed in the back again, shrieked the fear, acrid and bitter like the bile rising in my throat. You gullible fool!

My chest had constricted to the point of making every breath a labored gasp. It was only a matter of time before my knees would give out. Think. Think! I tried, but the walls were closing in, squeezing the air out of my lungs and the thoughts out of my head. I saw Hojo's face, his assistants' faces, hovering before my eyes between blinding flashes of white light.

The elevator came to a halt on floor sixty-two, Scarlet's destination. The mundane dinging sound announcing the stop drew me back to reality, or at least close enough to become dimly aware of the female executive staring at me with a wicked grin, feeding on my panic like a vampire.

"Ah, but Hojo and I must finalize our agreement before I deliver the prize," she declared as an afterthought as the doors opened. "Never mind, then. Turk, you may take her to wherever you were supposed to in the first place."

"Whatever," Reno said with a shrug.

With one last sneer in my direction, she swanned out of the elevator.

I pressed my eyes shut as I collapsed backwards, trying to shrink into the corner, but jumped when a loud bang echoed in the enclosed space of the elevator, followed by an angry shout.

"The fuckin' bitch!"

My eyes flew open to see Reno by the control panel, leaning against the wall with his hands flat against the wall, his shoulders so tense they were shaking. The man kicked the wall a second time, hard enough to make the panels vibrate, and I couldn't help but flinch again. This time, he noticed; the next second I felt his hands cup my face while he spoke urgently, heatedly.

"It was all show, ya hear me? Don't believe it, don't believe any of it!"

His eyes were wide and startled, gazing at my face with bare concern, but he was too close, too intense, too much, too much!

I jerked my head away and pushed past him, fleeing to the opposite corner of the elevator where I wedged myself between the intersecting walls, slumping my forehead against the arm I had propped up to support myself.

"FitzEvan, I–"

He had taken a step toward me, but stopped when I held up my hand.

"Just... Just give me a minute."

It was barely a whisper, but Reno heard me. He hesitated, then sighed.

"Yeah. Sure."

I placed the arm beneath the other one under my head. The thin fabric of my shirt did little to shield me from the coolness of the metal touching my forearms and I focused on the sensation, using it to keep myself anchored in the present while one nightmarish memory after another swept over me. When that proved insufficient, I dug my fingernails deep into the palms of my hands and fixated on the pain instead.

The Turk stayed in place, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his hands never staying still for more than a few seconds at a time. At first my panting was the only sound filling the elevator, but once my breathing had eased into a less panicked rate, Reno spoke up again.

"Scarlet fuckin' hates my guts. She hates the fact that she can't touch me or any of the other Turks right now and she'd be more than happy to take it out on you. This? This was just her fucked-up idea of fun. If I'd done anythin' to piss her off..."

The words tumbled out in an unsteady stream that was at odds with the cool and nonchalant Reno I knew. The man actually sounded shaken up.

"I was just playin' along 'til I could figure somethin' out. I wasn't gonna leave you with Hojo. I wouldn't do that to ya, all right?"

It wasn't pleading, but it came surprisingly close. I straightened up with careful moves, then gave him a nod as acknowledgement. While uncertain of the stability of my legs, I was sure my voice wasn't ready to hold yet. Even if it had been, it was better to hold my tongue. The words that raged in my head and wanted to pour out of my mouth weren't pretty.

Reno stared at the floor for a few moments, hands on his hips, then stepped over to the control panel to release the halted elevator.

"Let's talk to Reeve," he said, selecting the workshop floor. "We'll work this out together."

Ten minutes later I sat in Reeve's workshop, bundled up in his suit jacket, while the Turk described what had happened. The account was saturated with venom and foul language as Reno vented everything he had kept inside in Scarlet's presence, but I didn't mind. If anything, I cherished it as proof that he was unwilling to follow her orders and hand me over.

Maybe James had been just as unwilling, a small inner voice noted. That didn't stop him from destroying your life. I silenced the voice, but the warning lingered, with all its unpleasant implications.

Reno reached the end of his report.

"Scarlet's gone too far. We gotta figure out her angle, yo."

"Agreed." Deep twin creases had formed between Reeve's eyebrows. "Any thoughts?"

The redhead had calmed down, but judging by the way he scowled at his scuffed boots, he was still vexed by the event.

"I figured the fib 'bout the Prez would keep her off our backs a while longer, so could be it was just bad luck. Wrong place, wrong time kinda thing, givin' her the perfect chance to fuck with us both. The lil' dance she made us do might've been payback if she suspected I was bullshittin' 'bout the Prez last time."

"It's possible. Scarlet does enjoy her spite."

Reno scoffed in agreement, then continued on a more thoughtful note.

"Mind you, could also be that it's all to take you outta the game, since she tried to get the Doc here to spy on ya again. Y'know, messin' up your people since she can't go after ya directly."

Reeve's frown deepened.

"That seems rather drastic."

"Maybe you've just been too much of a pain in her ass in the boardroom ." A brief pause. "Well, y'know, not literally. I hope."

"Yes, okay, thank you for that clarification, Reno," Reeve interjected with a long-suffering sigh.

The Turk flashed an impish grin, but took the hint and moved onward.

"Somethin' 'bout this don't smell right, tho'."

"Oh?"

"She talked 'bout some deal with Dr. Freaky, but I ain't buyin' it," Reno said after a short pause. "She ain't gonna let somethin' like that slip by accident. I'm thinkin' maybe Superbitch wants us to be too busy watchin' out for Hojo to notice what she's really up to."

"A diversion, you mean?"

"Yeah. A pretty clumsy one, but this is Scarlet we're talkin' 'bout. She's a frickin' genius when it comes to blowin' shit up in awesome ways, but she ain't exactly subtle, yo."

The executive rubbed his chin as he considered the suggestion.

"You might be on to something."

Whether Reno was or not, the conversation had made one thing painfully clear: I was just convenient bait, a pawn to be sacrificed in some play for power that had nothing whatsoever to do with me. I was beginning to hate this planet.

The boys carried on with their speculation, unaware of the dark cloud forming over my head.

"The part 'bout a deal might be true, tho', but if it ain't Hojo..."

"...the likeliest candidate is Heidegger."

Reno grimaced, sticking out his tongue in distaste.

"Eugh. Match made in hell. Ain't gonna be easy to prove anythin', since those two hook up all the time for legit department business. Guess I gotta dig deeper, yo."

"You do that. We'll be here."

The Turk nodded and made for the exit, but halted when I shot to my feet.

"That's it, is it?" I snapped. "Just continue as before, acting like nothing happened? Again? It might just be me, since, you know, I'm the one about to end up as a bloody guinea pig, but I don't think that plan is working out so well!"

"Tess, we need to know more first," Reeve urged. "Please, be patient."

"Patient? After threats like that?!"

"Hojo won't hurt ya again, Doc. Not if I can help it."

The redhead spoke quietly, but there was nothing weak about the resolve his tone conveyed. If only I could have allowed it to lull me into a sense of security, but the anxiety had grown too strong to be overthrown by well-intentioned words alone.

"How can you stop him? I'm nobody on this world. He's an executive. All he has to do is say the word!"

Reno sighed and looked away, but I didn't miss the glance he exchanged with Reeve first. There was determination in his eyes, not resignation. I studied his face while I made an attempt to follow the peculiar logic the Turk had demonstrated on more than one occasion. He couldn't go after the executives, that much I knew, so to guarantee my safety he might–

No, wait. Not safety. To guarantee Hojo wouldn't hurt me, he had said.

"You'll kill me? Is that it?"

It was both a question and a stunned conclusion. Reno didn't look taken aback. Not even the briefest look of surprise touched his features.

"Doc, it ain't like–"

"I'm right, aren't I?" I whispered, feeling a chill along my spine. "You'll kill me."

Reno set his jaw, then held my eyes with a steady gaze as he responded.

"If it comes to that, you'll never know what hit ya."

Silence descended for several seconds, before it was shattered by my shrill laughter.

"How did I end up here?" I asked of no one in particular, raking both hands through my hair. "How did I end up on this crazy planet where even my so-called friends are planning to kill me?"

"FitzEvan, that ain't what I–"

"Why don't you just do it now, huh? Saves you trouble in the long run, doesn't it!"

In the blink of an eye, Reno was towering over me, trembling with barely contained emotion.

"Don't even joke about it," he growled, pinning me in place with an anger the man had never directed at me before. His eyes bored into me for another breathless second, and then he was gone.

The workshop door slammed shut, jolting my lungs back into life in the process. While I sucked in several gasps of air and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened, Reeve cleared his throat.

"He could have lied, you know."

Of course he could have. It would have been easy, too; just a little white lie to put me at ease, one that I would have preferred to believe.

"Maybe he should have," I snapped.

"Do you really think that?"

I dropped back into the chair and glared at my knees.

"Turks don't tend to believe in happy endings," the executive continued after a while. "Reno thinks the best he can offer is a quick, painless one."

Inexplicably, the tug in my heart was not fear or distaste, but sadness. Unsure of what to make of it, I just shook my head with a dark chuckle.

"Fantastic. Now I have to look over both my shoulders, huh?"

"It's not like that," Reeve sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Believe it or not, he means well. He's just..."

He trailed off. I released a long, slow breath, then gave a tired nod.

"A Turk," I finished for him. "For better or worse."

I should have been appalled, and I was, but... At the same time, a part of me felt relief. Hojo's lab, with its manmade monstrosities trapped in liquid-filled vats, had proven that there were worse fates than death.

Christ, what a thing to be grateful for. I had spent too long on this absurd, twisted world.

"Why didn't you tell me he was back?"

I didn't have to explain who I was talking about.

"We didn't want you to worry. "

I made little effort to hold back the hollow laughter.

"What else are you hiding from me so I won't 'worry'? The fact that I'm never going to see the outside of this damn tower?"

Reeve didn't reply right away. He sat down in the other chair beside me and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs with his hands locked together.

"Tess, I know you want out of here, but we need to be smart about it. You're locked up behind a wall of bureaucracy. If we break you out, it will just give Shinra a reason to come after you. Heidegger and Scarlet are watching the Turks like hawks, waiting for any excuse to take them down, and right now they hold more sway with the President than I do. We have to be careful."

"Maybe I would have been better off with those two," I muttered bitterly, letting the frustration get the better of me.

My words hung heavy in the uncomfortable silence that followed, but it was too late to unsay them. I watched my fingers fidget with a button on Reeve's navy blue blazer until its owner spoke up.

"You tell me. Who do you think put you in the interrogation room in the first place?"

His retort was matter-of-fact, but embarrassed heat flooded my cheeks nonetheless. I really needed to shut my mouth before my petulant outbursts drove off my second ally as well.

"Look, maybe it's be best if we postpone today's work and–"

"No, let's get started," I interrupted. "Please. I need something to take my mind off sadistic maniacs and mad scientists."

Not to mention bewildering redheads. I didn't know what to think of Reno's behavior and thought processes. How I felt about them was even more difficult to figure out.

Reeve examined me for a moment, then nodded.

"As you wish. I have boosted the output of the power-assisted systems and I'm curious to see how it affects your movement."

Perfect. I couldn't wait to get into my suit, to feel the comforting bulk and weight surround me, followed by the surge of strength as the systems kicked in. Sparky might not have been able to stop bullets and blades, but while I was inside it I could at least pretend I stood a chance.

As I strapped on the armored pieces, I gave the idea of escaping proper consideration for the first time in weeks. My hazard suit was almost fully restored, with several new tweaks and features. If today's tests were successful, Sparky would make me stronger than ever. If I wanted to, I could knock Reeve out and steal his keycard.

I could... but I knew that I wouldn't. I couldn't bring myself to hurt the man.

Something occurred to me as I watched the fingers of my gloved hand flex. Reno and Reeve must have considered the possibility, too. There might be a kill switch. In fact, there had to be a kill switch. How else would they dare let me wear the suit so freely? I knew it had a tracking signal – James had put one in for emergencies – Reeve could have found it or added one of his own. My hope plummeted as I realized that if I wanted to run, it would have to be without the hazard suit.

My hand balled into a fist as I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat. I was so, so tired of feeling powerless.

A couple of hours later Reeve began fixing the issues we had discovered during testing, so I distracted myself with one of the reports he had brought me. A frown soon formed on my brow.

"Reeve?"

"Hm?" he acknowledged without looking up from the piece of Sparky's leg in front of him.

"I don't understand why the Science Department is hiding their research. Wouldn't it help the poisoned victims if they published what they know about Mako?"

"It would, but it would also endanger classified company secrets."

I gave him a long, thoughtful look. The dangers of Mako exposure were public knowledge as far as I knew, so it couldn't be about keeping accidents under wraps. The substance itself was a natural resource, so preserving the secret makeup of a designed product wasn't the reason either.

"I get the feeling this isn't about energy production anymore."

His lips pulled into a thin smile.

"You're right."

"So, Mako isn't just fuel? What is it, exactly?"

I received a quick glance before the reply.

"Good question, but not one that's easy to answer. Some say Mako is the essence of all life on Gaia, the Lifestream itself. They claim the reactors are draining the Planet of its lifeblood, slowly weakening it and destroying all life."

I blinked twice, taken by complete surprise.

"The what now? Life stream?"

"The life-force that we are born of and to which we return after death," he explained, swiveling in his chair to face me. "The spirit energy that fuels life itself on our world."

"Spirit energy," I repeated slowly with a dubious look at the man. It sounded like the sort of joke Reno might try to pull on me with a straight face, but I hadn't expected it from Reeve.

"So they say."

His smiling face looked too sincere for a prank. Maybe he was serious. This was, after all, a world that made regular use of magic.

Oh, of course. Materia was made from Mako, wasn't it? That fact kept slipping my mind. I wasn't used to taking magical properties into account.

Different planet, different rules. Open mind, Tess.

"Uh, okay. How's it supposed to cause the problems?"

"In short, the reactors consume Mako from the surrounding environment, leaving it lifeless. Hence the dead zone around Midgar. The refined, concentrated form is highly reactive biologically and leaks may twist animals into mutated monsters. People, too, and plants. All forms of life are affected."

"Like your reactor staff," I mumbled, mentally poring over the reports I had read for details that could confirm or deny his claims.

"Yes. Then there's the Mako-exposed SOLDIERs with superhuman abilities, such as enhanced strength and accelerated healing rate. I'm not a doctor or a biologist, but it seems to me that mutation alone can't explain the effects."

My eyes widened.

"Hang on, you expose people on purpose? Knowing what it can do?"

"The board has decided that the benefits outweigh the risks. So, if you see someone with glowing blue eyes, that's what it's about."

The dry tone held a hint of sardonic humor, but the man didn't sound like he was joking.

"Glowing blue–" I cut myself off with a disbelieving snort. "You know, you really are quite insane on this world."

Reeve smirked.

"If it makes you feel any better, there are many who would agree with you."

"How does that even work? Do you tell SOLDIER wannabes to go take a bath in the nearest reactor?"

That earned me a small chuckle.

"It's done with series of injections, but that's about all I know. The Science Department is notoriously unwilling to reveal its secrets."

In a flash, the grotesque forms I had seen in Hojo's lab paraded before my eyes. Unfortunate victims of accidents or SOLDIER experiments gone wrong? I tried to swallow down the queasy feeling.

"Did you know that SOLDIERs quite literally disappear upon death? Their bodies disperse into pure energy that returns to the Planet."

I didn't even try to come up with a response anymore. My incredulity had reached its limits.

"The theory could also explain the properties of materia and the link that allows us to call upon their powers," Reeve mused. "Your case makes a curious comparison."

"My resistance to magic, you mean?"

"Indeed. Raises some interesting questions, doesn't it?"

"I'm not the only one, am I?" I wondered, remembering Reno list several known examples of resistance in the conversation that followed his impromptu materia experiment on me.

"No, but so far you've been immune to everything that's been tried on you. That's unusual in a human."

"It's only been three or four spells," I pointed out. "Hardly an exhaustive list."

"True. It would be interesting to know how far your resistance extends."

The words stirred the fresh fears that still lingered from the morning. I lowered my eyes to the report in my hands. This was getting much too close to discussing my use as a lab rat.

Reeve cleared his throat.

"Anyway, does that answer your question?"

"It raised more than it answered," I sighed, then offered a wry smile. "That's usually the way it goes, though."

"All right," he chuckled and returned to his work. "Let me know if there's anything else you want to know. If you've got questions about materia, though, you should ask Reno. He knows more about that than I do."

My smile faded as I wondered if the redhead would come back at all. He had been so upset. Why did this have to happen when we had only just cleared the air?

My fears turned out to be unfounded. Reno returned before the session was at an end, strolling into the workshop as if he had only gone out for a quick smoking break. I had worried he would be cold and distant again, but he seemed much his normal self. Perhaps the grins didn't quite reach his eyes, but at least he made the effort. I did my best to return the favor. The incident in the elevator had been unpleasant, but it hadn't been the Turk's fault. I shouldn't have taken it out on him.

Once he had escorted me back to my room, Reno paused by the doorway and took my wrist just as I was about to head inside. I stiffened and gave him a puzzled look, but the man didn't let go. Instead he turned my palm upward and placed a key on it, then closed my fingers around the item.

"For the room at the end of the hallway," he explained in a low voice. "Thought ya might sleep better if you can at least lock the door 'til we can figure out somethin' else."

His hands were warm on mine, but the concern in his eyes made my cheeks burn hotter.

"Keep it and yourself outta sight," he instructed. "Best if no one knows 'bout your lil' hidey-hole, yo."

The heat wandered down and blanketed my heart in a soothing warmth, but I wrangled my emotions under control before it could go any further. Blushing like a schoolgirl? Flustered by the act of holding hands? Sheesh, the stress of the day must have done a real number on my emotional state. I took a deep breath to collect myself, then smiled at him.

"Thank you."

The redhead responded with a crooked smile of his own and released my hand.

"Reno?"

He had already turned to leave, but looked back with his eyebrows raised when I called his name.

"About today... You know, after..." I huffed in exasperation when the right words failed to appear, but tried again. "When you... I mean, when we..."

The man tilted his head to the side, a confused frown knitting his brow while amusement tugged on one corner of his mouth.

"You plannin' to make sense any time soon, Fitz?"

"Oh, you– I'm trying to say I'm sorry, all right?"

A look of surprise passed over his face and I could have sworn his cheeks shifted a shade toward pink, but he recovered quickly.

"First hugs and now apologies? You goin' soft on me, babe?"

"What? I'm just–"

"'Cause, y'know, if it's gonna be kisses next, I'm totally okay with skippin' ahead."

"Reno!" I groaned. "I'm being serious here."

"Who says I ain't?" he drawled with a grin that completely contradicted his words.

"For the love of– I'm trying to say sorry for yelling at you like that! I was just so upset about... You know. Her."

It started out as a frustrated reproach, but ended up as a rather awkward mumble when I realized I had come close to yelling out my apology for yelling.

Reno reached up to rub the back of his neck as the grin waned. This time, I definitely detected a rosy tinge beneath the red crescents.

"Shit, don't worry 'bout somethin' like that. I get yelled at all the time, yo."

He said it as if it was true. Perhaps it was. Suddenly, I felt even worse.

"That doesn't mean it's okay."

As his lips curved upwards again I caught sight of a small, genuine smile before it transformed into the trademark smirk; just a fleeting glimpse, but that was enough to bring the heat right back to my cheeks.

"Eh, I'm a Turk. What do I care 'bout what's okay and what ain't? Now quit bein' so damn sweet. You're gonna make my teeth melt."

"Fine, have it your way," I relented with a roll of the eyes, but a smile softened my expression.

Reno grinned and made to leave, only to pause again before he had taken the first step.

"Hey, Fitz," he said after a moment's hesitation. "I got your back, all right? Remember that."

The man could have been lying, of course. Just a little white lie to put me at ease. It would have been safer to assume that was the case and remain on guard against betrayal; yet as I watched him saunter toward the exit, a key in my hand and the memory of a rare smile in my mind's eye, I found myself dangerously reluctant to do so.

Chapter Text

Coffee calmed my nerves these days, I realized. The scent alone made me feel more at ease, a tad more at home, while my mind associated the taste with breaks in Reeve's workshop and moments of unhurried contemplation.

"Hey, how's the book? The one I gave ya? 'Infernos of Vengeance' or whatever the fuck."

Or, as in this case, relaxed chats with the fiery-haired Turk. Reno posed the question as we sat underneath the tree growing in the employee lounge and cafeteria, having lunch before an afternoon earmarked for work with Reeve. I had been shy about being out in public ever since the elevator incident, but Reno had insisted. Scarlet wouldn't deign to set foot in the cafeteria, he had promised. Eventually, I had relented.

"'Inferno of Extermination'," I corrected him, a small grin playing on my lips. "It's pretty, um... interesting."

"Oh? Do tell."

I leaned back in the chair, holding my coffee cup in both hands as I peered up at the branches above in thought. While hardly a work of art, I had to admit the book delivered entertainment in the form of many flights of vivid imagination. Then again, with a world like Gaia, it was hard to tell which parts were imagined and which were reality.

"My favorite part so far is when our SOLDIER hero Leonidas decides to force-feed a bunch of grenades to a thirty-foot marsh snake, then uses himself as bait to lure it into the enemy camp. The poor, unsuspecting enemy soldiers open fire on it and the giant snake explodes, taking out most of the camp."

"A booby-trapped Midgar zolom?" The Turk sniggered. "That sounds pretty damn awesome. Maybe I oughta give the book a chance after all, yo."

"It'd be right up your alley," I said with a crooked smile.

Before he had a chance to respond, a cheerful tune sounded from his jacket. Reno pulled out his phone, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at the caller ID before answering the call.

"Hey Reeve, what's up?"

I chose to idly scan the patrons in the room while the caller spoke on the other end.

"Tseng?"

Reno's tone of voice had changed. I returned my gaze to him in time to see the slender fingers tighten their hold on the device.

"You sure 'bout this?"

His lips pressed together in a thin line at the answer, but when he gave me a quick glance a few moments later his expression had dissolved into an emotionless mask. A cold sensation trickled down my back at the sight. Whatever had happened, it was not good news.

"Right. Gotcha."

His voice was clipped and businesslike as he spoke the last few words on the phone, but it softened when the redhead turned to me.

"Change of plans, Fitz," he informed me as he slipped the phone back into his pocket, already rising from his seat. "'Fraid I gotta take ya back to your room."

My heart sank when he confirmed the conclusion I had reached seconds earlier.

"What's wrong?" I asked, following his example. "What's happened?"

"Sorry, babe, it's work."

That was that, then. No information would be shared and no questions would be answered. I gritted my teeth in frustration but followed the Turk back to the ward.

He left as soon as I passed through the ward's security doors. Disheartened and disappointed, I retreated back to my room and sat down on the bed, pulling my legs up on it to lean my back against the wall. My gaze fell on the book sitting on the bedside table, the one we had discussed only minutes earlier. A book he had received and brought to me while recovering from injuries so severe that not even the healing magic of this world could repair them all in one go.

When I closed my eyes, I could still see the dismayed surprise on Reno's face. I shivered and hugged my knees to my chest, in an attempt to calm the concern wringing my gut. It wasn't worry for my own sake. As strange as it was to admit it to myself, it was him that I feared for. If anything happened to him, how long would it be before I would find out? If something happened to both him and Reeve, would I ever hear about it?

Perhaps, if Scarlet decided there was amusement to be found in gloating.

I was in desperate need of a diversion before my mind could come up with more worst-case scenarios. I soon finished Reno's book, but as I wasn't in the mood for one of Amanda's romance novels and had few other distractions at my disposal, I ended up skimming through it to reread the SOLDIER's feats of heroism. Not for the literary value, but as points of comparison to what Reeve had told me the day before about Gaia's super soldiers. He had spoken of mutations and Mako injections, but that didn't make sense; exposure to a mutagen was too random a mechanism for such specific, systemic results. There had to be more to it.

I pondered the alleged magical properties of Mako, but I had no way of knowing whether that could be enough to explain the mystery. The details I had gleaned from Reeve's reports were of no use in this context. Try as I might, I could not form a complete picture with the information at hand. While it was probably wise not to rely on any of the book's fanciful descriptions, I didn't know if any of the executive's speculation was accurate either. I couldn't even be sure of how much of my Earth-based knowledge applied to Gaia's biological systems.

I tossed the book onto my pillow and let myself slump back against the wall, heedless of banging my head against the wall in the process. How quickly a promising day could deteriorate into one immense exercise in frustration.

A few days later, an agitated Amanda barged into my room to drag me along to the patient lounge. The TV was on, showing an emergency news report.

"They say it's AVALANCHE again," the blonde nurse said, practically shaking with outrage. "You won't believe what they've done this time!"

I expected more destroyed buildings. Therefore, I was thoroughly confused when the screen showed a reddish-black spot in the sky and the news reporter began describing the threat of a meteorite's impending impact.

"Hang on, what's this?" I asked Amanda. "What does a meteorite have to do with terrorists?"

"They say AVALANCHE summoned it, as some kind of sick payback for humanity's sins against the planet!"

My expression must have been quite the sight. I gaped in stunned astonishment at the other woman, who looked very pleased with the reaction her news had brought forth. In the background, I could hear the reporter confirm what she had just claimed.

Looking around at the faces of other staff in the room, I saw anger and fear, but no signs of skepticism. It seemed they were perfectly happy to accept the concept of a huge space rock being at the beck and call of a group of eco warriors.

I turned my gaze back toward the screen in time to see a repeat of the video. Materia was involved, I guessed; or, that was a natural assumption for the people of Gaia to make, at least. The little hairs on my arms stood up as I stared at the images of the red dot in the sky. Reno had spoken of materia affecting individual people and small groups, but had mentioned nothing on this scale. Was it really possible in this universe?

The news feed cut to a series of short clips, each showing fuzzy footage of enormous creatures, which elicited startled gasps and nervous murmurs among the break room audience. The reporter called them weapons.

"Weapons? What are they?" I whispered.

"They're, well, Weapons," was Amanda's oh-so-helpful explanation. "Created by the Planet itself."

"What does that mean?" I asked, trying to control my growing impatience. "Are they animals?"

"They're gigantic monsters, that's what they are," snapped a man next to us. "Called down on our heads by these AVALANCHE assholes."

This time, I noticed a few doubtful looks from others around us. Perhaps I wasn't the only one who knew of Shinra's tendency to shift the blame onto handy scapegoats. It made me wonder about the real story behind the dramatic news spectacle.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to ask either of the two people who might have inside knowledge for another couple of days. It didn't surprise me that both of them would be busy dealing with this crisis, but being left in the dark was insufferable.

When Reno finally showed up one morning, I was on the verge of combusting with restless tension. I was watching another news report when I heard the familiar voice behind me.

"Guess you've heard the news, yo."

I spun around in my seat.

"Reno!"

He was leaning on one shoulder against the wall, as nonchalant as ever, but his face was pale and there was a tiredness to his eyes. One corner of his mouth travelled upward in response to my relieved greeting.

"Miss me, babe?"

"In your dreams," I quipped, though the widening smile on my face betrayed the true answer to the question.

He smirked and tossed me the backpack he had brought.

"Suit up, Fitz. Reeve wants to see ya."

As we were walking to the elevators, I asked him about the situation.

"Got no answers for ya," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No one knows what the hell's goin' on right now, except that it's all to do with some crazy fucker wantin' the world to end."

"Is that really going to happen?"

Something in the thoughtful sideways glance I received gave me a chill.

"Looks like it might."

I should have known Reno wouldn't sugarcoat anything. While I appreciated his honesty, it didn't stop my heart from sinking.

"Really? Just like that?"

"Yeah, just like that. They say it's black magic. Real old and real powerful."

"Magic," I scoffed, shaking my head. "How do you fight something like that?"

"Dunno yet, but we're sure as hell workin' on it. I'm too pretty to die in a flamin' apocalypse, yo."

He sent me a lopsided smile, to which I responded with a soft snort.

"Aren't we all."

His face broke into a grin.

"Well, Heidegger sure ain't. Y'know, we oughta fling him into Meteor. He's about the same size and just as ugly-lookin', so maybe they'll explode and take each other out."

This time I rewarded him with a small chuckle. As morbid as the humor was, it felt good to laugh again. Back home, when I had been younger and aimless, my reaction to Earth's hopeless situation had involved too much alcohol and wild parties. Not exactly a viable long-term solution, but once I had developed a certain kind of irreverent, warped humor, I had been able to deal with reality in a more useful, practical way. Suddenly, I saw Reno's inappropriate jokes and comments in a whole new light.

Once inside the elevator, squeezed in among people in business wear with their hands full of briefcases and tidy folders of paperwork, it was impossible to miss the uneasy anxiety that permeated the ride. The air practically hummed with it. The people of Gaia may have been going about their daily lives as if the giant rock in the sky wasn't on its way to crush them all, but that didn't mean they were free of its weight on their minds. I wondered how long it would be before the appearance of normalcy cracked under Meteor's pressure and fell apart.

It was a relief to reach the workshop floor and escape the elevator's second-hand disquietude. Unfortunately, the respite was short-lived.

"You!"

Our heads snapped to the side at the exact same moment. I heard Reno groan under his breath when we saw Scarlet storm toward us.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Why is she here?"

My reaction was physical. The fight-or-flight response had my heart racing and my hands shaking within a second, but before I could move a single muscle, the woman in red was upon us.

This time, though, I wasn't her target. Thanks to her high heels and his sloppy posture, the blonde executive was able to level her face with Reno's before launching into a verbal attack.

"What are you doing here, Turk? I gave you a job to do!"

"Rude's handling it."

Even a voice like Reno's seemed subdued compared to the irate executive's piercing yell, yet he hadn't so much as flinched at the sound of it right by his face. His indifferent attitude only seemed to incense her further.

"You think that gives you an excuse to slack off? We need the huge materia now! Get to it!"

"Told ya, Rude's on it. He don't need me lookin' over his shoulder and you ain't the only boss who wants stuff done."

Several passers-by slowed down to take in the spectacle, but most of them sped up and made themselves scarce after a look of recognition passed over their features. The curious faces that remained in our vicinity were nonetheless numerous enough to make me very uncomfortable. I could only imagine how Reno must have felt beneath the uncaring facade.

The woman's icy glare made it clear she did not approve of the Turk's explanation.

"The world's coming to an end and you decide that the best use of your time is to play babysitter for Tuesti?"

"I get orders. I follow 'em. Been told that doin' otherwise is bad for my health, yo."

I didn't miss the sarcasm that sharpened his response, nor did Scarlet. Her upper lip peeled back in an open display of disgust.

"You really are unbearably stupid. What made me think the resident slum dog idiot could get anything right? Gods, you must have slept your way into the Turks. Gaia knows your face is your only asset."

My mouth fell open. I couldn't believe my ears. Reno's smirk hadn't faltered, but it was growing more strained by the second; yet he just stood there without protest while she hurtled abuse at him. Was it because he didn't want to give her an excuse to turn on me? Or was this just a normal, everyday occurrence for the Turks? Was this what he had meant by saying he was used to being yelled at?

The fear had evaporated. Instead, there was anger. It surged through my veins like wildfire, curling my hands into fists.

"So, what did you do to get put in charge, hm?" Scarlet sneered. "Did you bend over for Heidegger and the President like a little bitch?"

"Guess you'd know all about that."

Two sets of incredulous eyes spun around to me; his wide with stunned surprise, hers flaring with murderous wrath. That was my only warning before Scarlet's palm struck my cheek, the long nails tearing into my skin like claws. Already jacked up on adrenaline and fury, I reacted to the pain on pure instinct. My fist was swinging before my scream had ended, then sharp agony exploded in my knuckles as they smashed into the woman's jaw.

She stumbled backwards, but I never saw her fall. I was grabbed from behind and shoved against the wall, my startled yelp drowned out by the executive's screech of astonished rage and pain. My arm was wrenched up behind my back roughly enough to make me cry out again, and as if that wasn't enough to keep me in place, I felt something hard and smooth press against the back of my neck. Out of the corner of my eye I could make out the business end of Reno's mag rod, now extended to pin my head against the wall. For one terrible second, I thought he was going to snap my neck.

"Play dead."

He breathed it so quietly in my ear that at first I wasn't sure I had really heard it at all, but the next word out of his mouth made his meaning clear.

"Sleep."

There was no time for conscious decisions. Whether out of trust or fear, I just obeyed. When the fleeting heaviness pulled on my limbs, I closed my eyes and let my body go limp. Reno lowered me to the floor, none too gently but without further harm. I struggled to keep a blank face as the Turk proceeded to pat me down, accompanied by Scarlet's furious shrieking.

"Why did you do that, Turk?"

"Figured you'd want her alive, yo."

I couldn't help but tense up when his hand slipped in through the top of my shirt and toward my cleavage, but his intent became clear when I felt him push something small and elongated inside my bra.

"I want her awake, you moron! Wake her up again!"

"Can't. Don't have the right materia with me."

"Oh, you useless waste of space!" A pause, allowing me to hear heavy feet approaching us at a run. "Just take her to the holding cells! The little bitch will get what's coming to her soon enough."

The clicking of Scarlet's heels rapidly grew distant, but the agitated murmur of the small crowd that had formed around us told me I needed to keep up the charade.

"Shall we take it from here?"

I didn't recognize the voice. It must have been one of the new arrivals. Security?

"Nah, I may as well see this through. You, gimme a hand with her, will ya?"

Staying perfectly lifeless while I was gathered up from the floor and hoisted up between two male bodies was one of the hardest challenges I had ever faced. It was like a bizarre trust building exercise, only with so little actual trust involved that I might have found it funny had I not been so busy being terrified.

"She's shivering. Is that normal?"

"Guess the floor was cold or somethin'. Not our problem, yo."

The guard sounded more concerned than suspicious. By contrast, Reno's reply held no emotion, but his arm around my waist tightened for a second. I chose to take it as reassurance. He struck up a rather one-sided conversation with the guards, and while I suspected it was to distract them from paying too much attention to me, the sound of his lazy drawl seemed to ease my breathing. Little by little, the air began to flow smoother, each breath requiring less control to stay even.

My cheek pulsed with a searing heat in time with my heartbeat and I could feel warm droplets trickle down my face and neck. My arms were stretched around the necks of my transporters and while most of my weight was held up by the arms supporting my midsection, painful twinges shot through the shoulder of my twisted arm every time I was jostled in an unexpected way. I wondered how far I would be dragged along like this. It was getting more and more difficult to keep the discomfort off my face.

I was glad some of my hair had come loose during the scuffle. It was long enough to obscure the sides of my face as I hung motionless, my head slumped down to my chest. Nevertheless, I didn't dare risk opening my eyes to see where we were going. There was walking, a ride in a different elevator than the one we had used before, then more walking. A brief stop, questions asked and orders barked, and then one final march until a heavy door groaned open. After being brought through it, I was hauled onto a hard surface and let go.

One man left as soon as I had been laid down on my side, but the other stayed. The familiar scent of tobacco and spicy cologne kept me from panicking as he bent over me, lifting my chin slightly as if to inspect my condition.

"Camera's behind ya. Be discreet. Wait for the right time."

My head was lowered back down and released. Even with my eyes closed, I could sense Reno straighten up. The sudden rush of fear made my chest feel too tight. Don't go, I wanted to say. Don't leave me here. But I said nothing.

I heard a few receding footsteps, and then the disheartening clang of the cell door echoed off the cold cell walls. I was alone.

Chapter Text

It took me a while to gather enough courage to open my eyes. I lay facing the wall and couldn't see much of the room without moving my head, but I didn't need to. I had been in a cell like this before. Squeezing my eyes shut again, I took several deep breaths to remain calm. The last thing I needed right now was another panic attack.

As I waited for my pulse to slow down, I took a few moments to mentally check my condition. My cheek was on fire, while my damaged fingers pulsed with a dull ache in time with the throbbing in my left shoulder. I was glad Reno had handled the wrenched arm while he and the guard dragged me to the cell. The guard had been much less careful with the other one. I was fairly confident I could use my left arm regardless, but my right hand was worse off, especially the ring finger. It was an angry red and had begun to swell up.

I turned my attention to Reno's parting gift. Ever so slowly, I pulled my hands up to recover the item he had hidden in my bra. It was a small, black canister with a spray nozzle, about the size of a lipstick tube. Some kind of pepper spray, I guessed. Better than nothing, no matter what it was.

Wait for the right time, Reno had said. I snorted softly. How was I supposed to know what the "right" time was? I was a scientist. What did I know about escaping prison cells and thwarting security guards?

Well, one thing was certain: giving up would get me nowhere. I gritted my teeth and pushed the despondency aside, then gave the Turk's instructions some more thought. The right time. It implied the need for guile and hinted that I had one chance to get out of here. The guards thought I was asleep and unarmed; that would be my advantage. As for the how and when... Well, I would just have to play it by ear.

I stifled another snort of sardonic laughter. Me, improvising? Fantastic. I might as well empty the can in my face now and hope it would kill me quicker than Scarlet would.

I had no way of telling the time. I couldn't say how long I had lain on the bunk with a tight grip on my weapon when the door opened again with its telltale creak, followed by a few careful footsteps. My heart instantly leapt into an anxious rhythm, but I forced my lungs under control, continuing the slow even breaths.

For the longest time, my visitor stayed still. Watching me, I could only presume. My skin crawled, but I kept my eyes shut and my body still. I needed the element of surprise.

A step closer, followed by another. I could hear heavy breathing.

When I felt a hand on my behind, I twisted around, canister in hand. The man yelled in surprise when he received a faceful of spray and staggered backwards, clawing at his head. I shot up to my feet, holding my breath as I gave him a hard shove and bolted for the door. My heels slipped and slid on the floor as I pulled on the door, until it finally clanged shut, cutting off the man's screams.

I pressed my back against the door, blinking to ease the stinging in my eyes from the spray remnants I had been unable to avoid. My heart was hammering in my chest and my mind was in a state of pure chaos. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

Get out of here, that's what. I kicked off the useless shoes as I looked back and forth along the corridor, then ran away from the apparent dead end. I slowed down as I neared the window of the guard room, but it proved empty. I recognized my cell on one of the screens thanks to the guard still writhing on the floor. That spray was potent.

I hesitated. Where to next? I knew the way to the interrogation cells, but no bloody way would I head there. The elevators were a better bet.

With a sinking feeling, I recalled a vital fact. The elevators needed key cards. I didn't have one. I debated going back into the cell to get the downed guard's card, but quickly dismissed the idea. It was too risky. I would have to find another way.

The remaining short stretch of corridor brought me to a familiar crossing. The way straight ahead led to the interrogation rooms, the left to the elevators. I turned right. I stuck close to one of the smooth gray walls as I crept down the empty corridor, pricking my ears in a desperate attempt to hear anything over the blood thundering in them. I would have expected to run into someone by now, but everything was still. I could only hope my luck would hold.

I tried every door I came across, but they were all locked. Imagine my shock when one of them opened only seconds after I had passed it. Before I could even turn around, an arm had pinned my own to my sides and pressed me tight against the person behind me, while a hand clamped down over my mouth. I kicked wildly, I jerked my body this way and that, but I couldn't prevent my assailant from dragging me in through the door they had opened, shrouding us both in the darkness within.

"Fitz, it's me. Calm down and stay quiet."

I recognized the hushed voice as soon as he said my name. My body sagged in his grip and I didn't know whether to break down and cry from relief or kick the bastard where it would really hurt for nearly giving me a heart attack. Reno released me, relieving me of the tiny spray can in the process, then dashed to the door to close it without a sound. Only the faint, green light of an exit sign remained to guide us past rows of shelving units to another door on the opposite side of the room.

"Gotta move fast. Stay close."

That was all he said. This was Reno the Turk at work; swift, silent and efficient. I did my best to keep up and follow his wordless instructions as he took me through a maze of storage rooms, back doors and maintenance stairs. Within minutes, I had lost track of our position.

My curiosity peaked when Reno eventually stopped by a door near the main elevators. There was nothing special about the plain gray door itself, but unlike most others like it, this one was equipped with a security lock similar to the one on the exit from the ward. That, together with the gradual return of a more relaxed slouch as soon as we had reached the present floor, made me conclude we had reached our destination.

Once he had closed the door behind us, Reno dragged a hand over his face with a deep breath, then turned around and placed his hands on his hips, looking me over. Despite the ghost of a smirk hovering on his lips, there was nothing humorous about his expression.

"Guess you weren't jokin' when you said you're full of surprises, huh?"

He sounded just as somber and weary as he looked. I couldn't help but feel like a child who was about to get scolded. I swallowed hard and lowered my eyes to my hands, toying with the untucked hem of my shirt.

"I really made a mess of things, didn't I?"

My own voice was unsteady; the little laugh following my question a timid, jittery sound. After a pregnant pause, Reno sighed.

"Eh, it was pretty dumb, but at least you got her good."

I thought I could detect a touch of amusement in his voice. The surprise made me look up again. The wry smile had grown stronger.

"You're not angry?"

Something flickered in his eyes; something so fleeting I had no chance to identify it.

"'Course I am. I'm real fuckin' pissed off. But..." He sighed again. "I ain't mad at you. Kinda hard to be angry at the one who jumped into a goddamn inferno to pull my sorry ass outta the fire."

His features softened into a smile. I responded in kind, feeling a weight roll off my shoulders. Then, his face broke into a toothy grin.

"'Sides, how can I be mad after a show like that? Lil' Fitz takin' on frickin' Scarlet has gotta be the hottest shit I've seen since Rude blew up that illegal ammo factory a few years back. I'm gonna have wet dreams for weeks."

"Too much information," I groaned, but it was only a half-hearted reproach, mitigated by the relieved laughter bubbling in my chest. At this stage, the man's improper comments were a welcome taste of normalcy.

He snickered with impish glee, but soon returned to a more solemn tone.

"Seriously tho', Scarlet's pissed. If she gets her hands on ya now... Well, we'll just have to make sure that won't happen."

I recalled that sadistic smile of hers and shivered. I never wanted to experience what it promised.

"C'mon, let's get ya settled in."

He led the way through several open offices, each intended to be shared by four employees. Only the last one seemed to be in use, with empty paper cups and stacks of folders on three of the desks. All of the rooms were devoid of people, echoing quietly with our footsteps as we walked through them.

"Where are we?"

"Home sweet home, baby. The Turk offices, yo."

"They're so empty."

I regretted my thoughtless remark as soon as I saw the look that flitted across his face.

"Yeah," he agreed tonelessly. "It's the safest place for ya right now. With Tseng gone, Scarlet's gonna need my say-so to get in here and no way in hell am I gonna give it to her. Well, me or the Prez, but I don't think she's gonna try him. He ain't exactly happy with her or Heidegger after that Promised Land fuckup."

"The Promised Land?"

"Eh, some crazy idea old man Shinra was obsessed with. Don't ask me how, but Fatso and Superbitch sold it to the new Prez too. Now that it turned out to be bullshit, tho', he ain't listenin' to 'em anymore. No wonder she's bein' such a bitch."

I shook my head, frowning as I recalled the altercation.

"She was vicious. I still can't believe the things she said to you."

"Eh, she's just extra pissy with me 'cause I won't roll over and beg. Like I said, no way in hell am I gonna give it to her."

One corner of his mouth pulled upwards, but it was closer to a sneer this time. Together with the pointed look he sent me, his meaning became crystal clear.

"That's what it's about?"

"Uh huh. As you found out for yourself, Scarlet don't like bein' turned down. Made me her fave punchin' bag of the Turks, yo."

"Yikes."

It was the best I could manage, speechless as I was. The woman's lack of professional conduct was beyond belief.

"Yeah. Tseng mostly kept her off my back 'til now tho', especially when I was still a rookie kid. Man, she really freaked me out back then."

He laughed, but the sound of it made me wish I had slugged her harder.

We arrived at a door at the back of the offices, which Reno opened to reveal a small chamber with a door and observation window into another, larger room.

"Welcome to the presidential suite," he declared, sniggering as if he had just cracked a joke.

While the Turk tapped in a code on the keypad of the door's lock, I took a peek at my new accommodations through the glass. A couch was propped up against one wall, with a decent-sized TV on the opposite side of the room and a coffee table between them. A shelf with a few books and magazines stood between another door and a screen that concealed part of the room at the back. White, silver and black dominated the decor, giving the impression of a hotel room rather than a prison.

"Not bad," I commented. "Why didn't you move me here earlier?"

"'Cause the room service sucks," he said with a smirk, holding the door open until I entered the room. "That, and we ain't s'posed to bring civilians in here. Tseng's gonna have my balls when he finds out."

"'When'?" I echoed as I looked around. "Would have thought you'd make sure this stays a secret if the family jewels are at stake."

"Nah, no one can keep secrets from the boss man. He's got this look, y'know? When he looks at ya like that, it's like his eyes are diggin' straight into your brain. The guy's gotta be usin' some kinda freaky Wutai hoodoo to read minds, I swear."

I wondered what this Tseng was like. He sounded like a strict chief. The first suggestion my mind conjured up was a male Scarlet. The mental image made me slightly queasy and I slapped it away. It didn't seem right, anyway, not considering what the redhead had told me just now. When Reno spoke of his immediate superior, his tone of voice was one he might use for Reeve, not Scarlet.

My musings were interrupted when I wandered into the bathroom and turned on the lights. The bathroom itself was unremarkable, but the face staring back at me in the mirror was not. My left cheek was red and swollen, with trickles of coagulated blood streaking down along my neck and staining the collar of my white shirt. Scarlet had left two ugly gashes just under my cheekbone. I reached up and gingerly touched the hot, tight skin under the lower one, wondering if they would leave scars. My stomach turned.

"C'mere for a sec. Let's fix that pretty face."

Reno dug around for something in his pocket as he stepped in to join me by the mirror, then pulled out a vial containing red liquid and uncorked it. He tilted my head back and to the side, then placed one hand on the back of it.

"Stay still," he instructed.

I hissed and flinched as soon as the first drops of the vial's contents hit the wounds. It wasn't exactly painful nor did it burn, but the strange tingling sensation it produced was just too intense for the sensitive, injured tissue.

"C'mon, quit bein' such a baby."

"I might, if you'd stop calling me that."

The redhead smirked, then let a few more drops fall on the gashes. I went rigid, but the firm hand behind my head kept me from pulling away.

"Easy, Doc, try not to move. Let it do its thing."

"What the hell is that stuff? It bloody well stings!"

"It's just a hi-potion. Y'know, what Reeve put in your suit? A Cure wouldn't suck so hard, but since I can't use that on ya, I gotta get creative."

The tingling gave way to insufferable itching as my skin squirmed and stretched in unnatural ways. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw tighter as the sensation grew nigh unbearable. Then, it was gone.

The Turk flashed a satisfied grin and let me go.

"There. Good as new, yo."

The sudden lack of pain and discomfort left me disoriented for a second. My gaze flitted around in confusion until it landed on the lapel of his jacket, bunched up in my hand. I slowly released my death grip on the fabric, trying to remember when I had grabbed it in the first place.

My brain finally registered his words. I spun around toward the mirror and let out a little gasp when I saw the result. The gashes were gone. I wiped away some of the messy streaks of sticky potion and dried blood, but found only smooth skin underneath. My injured, reddened fingers were now a sharp contrast to the normal paleness of my cheek.

I jumped a little when Reno grabbed the hand and brought it up to his face. He clicked his tongue in disapproval as he inspected the swollen digits.

"If you're gonna keep punchin' people in the face, I might have to teach ya how to do it right."

"I don't plan to make a habit out of it," I muttered, feeling my cheeks heat up.

I watched him run his fingertips over my knuckles, then grimaced when he moved my pinky finger this way and that. Now that my thoughts were no longer distracted by an aching face and I'd had a chance to catch my breath, the whole incident began to sink in.

"I hit her," I blurted out with both surprise and disbelief. "I really hit her."

"Yeah, you really did," Reno mumbled, keeping his eyes on my hand. "Better you than me, babe. Otherwise, we'd be in a whole lot more trouble."

"I don't hit people," I said as if trying to convince myself of this, then sucked in a quick breath through clenched teeth when he gently bent my ring finger. "I've never hit anyone before! God, what's wrong with me?"

The man glanced up at my face, then straightened up to level his eyes with mine. His concerned frown had deepened, now bordering on irritation.

"Oh c'mon, don't start beatin' yourself up over it now," he admonished. "One, Superbitch ain't worth it. Two, ain't nothin' wrong with ya. All the bad shit you've been through? Of course it's gonna come out somehow. Gettin' angry is normal."

He would know, I realized, recalling the smoldering rage I had glimpsed beneath the deceptively cool surface a week or so ago. How much he had been through to end up with such anger?

Reno's expression softened. He patted the uninjured side of my hand, then let it go.

"Lucky for you, I don't think you broke anythin'. I'll get ya some ice."

While the redhead was absent, I took the opportunity to wash the grime off my healed face. The presence of a shampoo bottle by the soap inspired a closer examination of the room. I did indeed find a shower in one corner, hidden behind a white curtain decorated with silver circles of various sizes. Such a simple discovery did much to lift my spirits. A private shower was a very welcome novelty.

Upon returning to the main room, I wondered what purpose it normally served. It seemed too comfortable for a cell, yet the sturdy door and observation window suggested otherwise. A prison for VIPs, perhaps; someone dangerous or important enough to warrant Turk custody.

Heh. I was moving up in the world.

Reno returned, offering me a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a bunch of paper towels. While I tried to figure out how to best apply it to my damaged fingers, he gave me another once-over.

"Anythin' else need fixin'?"

"Nothing serious," I replied with a quick shake of my head.

"How's the shoulder?"

"Sore, but I'll live."

He grimaced.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Had to make it look good, y'know?"

The memory was a blur of pain and shock. It wasn't one I wanted to recall in detail.

"I get it," I said with a dismissive wave, then changed the subject. "How are you going to explain my escape?"

"Eh, I'll think of somethin'. Blame it on the guy you locked inside your cell, I guess. He was already breakin' the rules and the spray is standard issue for security. Just so happens his one is currently missin'."

Reno pulled out two identical canisters from his pocket and waved them in the air with a self-satisfied smirk. A few puzzle pieces fell into place.

"Hang on," I said slowly, a cold sensation settling in my gut. "You knew he'd come into my cell, didn't you?"

"Figured he would, yeah. The guy's a fuckin' perv, yo. Hell, all I had to do was to give him a lil' nudge in the right direction on my way out and call away his buddy on some bullshit errand a bit later. Easiest prison break ever."

"I was bait for some molester? What if it had gone wrong?"

Reno merely arched an eyebrow at my wide-eyed expression and slipped the items back into an inside pocket of his blazer.

"It didn't, so no point wastin' time with what-ifs. The touchy-feely creep got what he had comin', you got out, end of story."

His voice was flat, the emotion was draining from his face, and I recalled the uncaring facade he had worn in front of Scarlet. I swallowed the rattled response that had already reached the tip of my tongue. I wasn't going to chew him out for providing me with a way out of a mess I had landed myself in, was I? Any solution to a situation like that was bound to have its risks.

"Yes. Yes, you're right," I sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to seem ungrateful."

"Don't worry 'bout it," he interjected before I could properly thank him, then let a small, crooked smile return. "You did good, Fitz. Kept a cool head and did what you had to do."

"Shame I was the one to drop us both in it in the first place," I mumbled.

"Eh, shit always happens. You just gotta figure out how to deal with it, y'know?"

A muffled, jaunty tune interrupted our conversation. Reno pulled out his phone and smirked when he glanced at the caller ID.

"Reno." A pause. "What? Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? She was out cold and locked inside a damn cell!" A sly wink in my direction. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Yeah, yeah, I'm on it. I'll be there in five."

He snapped the phone shut and slipped it back into his jacket with a rather smug expression on his face.

"Well, sounds like I gotta go hunt down this crazy chick who socked one of the big bosses in the jaw, took down a guard, escaped a high-security cell and then just disappeared into thin air."

"She sounds like trouble," I commented with a weak smile.

"Oh, you betcha. Good thing I like trouble, eh?"

He winked, then strolled to the exit, stopping in the doorway to send me an apologetic look.

"'Fraid I gotta lock you up in here. Less hassle that way and safer too, for both of us."

I rolled my eyes.

"Back in another cell. What a surprise."

I understood why, of course. He couldn't leave me unsupervised in a sensitive location like the Turk offices. That didn't mean I had to like it.

"It's just for a lil' bit, all right? No one knows how everything's gonna pan out with Meteor, but things are gonna change, that's for sure. It's already happenin'."

There was a moment of hesitation before the last sentence, accompanied by a slight change in tone, as if some some emotion threatened to break through. Hope, worry, perhaps even fear? All three and more? I couldn't be certain.

"At least get me something useful to do while I'm in here," I requested. "I was going crazy in that ward."

"You got it. Oh, hey, you remember Rude, right? Big guy, bald, really likes his shades?"

"Yes?"

"Don't be surprised if he's the one bringin' ya dinner. Gonna be busy for a while, prob'ly."

Sure, I remembered the bald Turk. The tough, silent, menacing Turk about twice my size.

Reno chuckled.

"No need for that worried face, babe. Rude's a bona fide gentleman 'round the ladies, yo."

"Well, that'll be a change at least."

He responded to my wry smile with an unrepentant grin, then let the door fall shut and waved goodbye on his way past the observation window.

I slumped down onto the couch, releasing a long exhale. So, now I was hiding from not one, but two Shinra executives. Better yet, HQ security knew my face. The chances of my long-term survival were getting awfully close to zero.

Chapter Text

I flinched awake, then stayed perfectly still while my eyes darted across the room, trying to discern what had awakened me. I saw white walls, a black coffee table with chrome legs, a black leather sofa beneath me. A frown creased my brow. What was this? This wasn't my room.

A soft cough sounded above my head and I realized it was the sound that had startled me awake. I craned my head backwards until my eyes flew wide upon spotting a bald head, its face covered by dark glasses. An eerie sense of déjà vu washed over me, compounding my disorientation.

"Dinner," the man said in a low rumble, raising a brown paper bag.

A few seconds passed by in a silent staring contest, until my sleep-addled brain caught up with the present and managed to separate reality and dream. These were my new accommodations. The face belonged to Reno's colleague.

"Oh," I said.

The face slid out of my field of vision as the man – Rude, I reminded myself – straightened up. I sat up slowly, keeping a wary eye on him as he placed the bag on the table. Seeing a properly worn suit was a novelty. Reeve kept his blazer off and the shirtsleeves rolled up in the workshop, while Reno looked like he had slept in his uniform for a week.

The scent of food was enough to make my mouth water. It occurred to me that I hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"Reno is busy, I suppose?" I asked as I opened the bag for a peek.

"Yes."

I waited for elaboration, but the large man stood still as a statue, reminding me of a bodyguard on the job.

"Right," I acknowledged after nearly a minute of awkward silence. "Okay then."

I spent a few more futile seconds groping around for something else to say, then decided it best to just focus on my dinner. For a while, the only sound in the room was the rustling of paper while I uncovered what to my great joy turned out to be a hamburger. I couldn't remember when I had last had one of those.

"Need anything?"

The unexpected question made me flinch in surprise. A pickle slice slipped out of the burger and landed in my lap. I snatched it up and glanced around in flustered embarrassment, then down at myself. The white shirt was stained with red and the pickle had left a small spot on my skirt. I didn't even dare to imagine the state of my hair. I cleared my throat, feeling my face grow hotter.

"Some clean clothes would be nice."

I wasn't sure what the bald Turk meant with the noncommittal grunt I received in response, but he exited the room and left me to enjoy my meal in merciful solitude. Stuffing my face with a burger in front of a pristine stranger would not have been conducive to retaining – or rather, salvaging – my dignity.

Once I had finished, my eyes began to droop shut again. The fear, pain, adrenaline and overall excitement had taken their toll. My unplanned nap hadn't been enough to alleviate the exhaustion that permeated every cell in my body. A search of my rooms revealed a small stack of white t-shirts which I deemed better than nothing, despite being a couple of sizes too big for me. After discarding my bloodied clothing in favor of one of them, I collapsed into bed and sank into a dreamless sleep.

The morning brought much appreciated serenity. After a shower about three times longer than necessary, I discovered a couple of the secretarial outfits Reno had acquired for me folded on the couch, along with coffee and a sandwich on the table beside it. Some of Bugenhagen's treatises were also waiting for me, allowing me to at long last resume my studies on planet Gaia.

A little after noon Rude showed up with lunch and once more with takeaway noodle soup in the evening. He uttered fewer than half a dozen words altogether, his expressionless face never changing. While he responded to my greetings with polite nods, I couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated every time the large unreadable man entered the room. I could still recall the creak of his leather gloves as I sat helpless in the interrogation room.

On my second day in Turk custody, I got out of bed and shambled around the screen dividing the sleeping area and the rest of the room, only to come to a halt in midstep when I discovered that I was not alone. My hands automatically found the hem of the oversized t-shirt and tugged it further down over my thighs, before I realized that the redhead on the couch was soundly asleep.

Reno was curled up on his side with his suit jacket rolled up under his head as a pillow. One boot was parked beside the sofa, while the other one had fallen on its side under the coffee table. His wristwatch and some coins were discarded on the table, but the goggles were still on his forehead, askew and tangled in his mussed-up tresses.

Perched on the table was a sheet of paper, folded in two and sporting the word "FITZ" in big capital letters. I tiptoed over to it and unfolded the paper to see a message inside. The next minute or two was spent squinting and frowning, until I was fairly certain I had deciphered the scrawl.

gonna borrow the couch
don't touch me, I get twitchy
PS: got u breakfast

I could only assume "breakfast" referred to the remaining slices of cold pizza inside the half-open cardboard box on the coffee table. I reread the brief message, then glanced at the sleeping redhead, wondering what "twitchy" could mean. Twitchy sleep? Twitchy limbs? Twitchy trigger finger?

My sense of self-preservation triumphed over curiosity. I placed the paper back onto the table, grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the shower.

He was still asleep when I returned. An amused smile tugged on my lips as I reached down to grab a slice from the box. Reno's appearance on the sofa may have been unexpected, but I couldn't say I was much surprised by his definition of breakfast. While I chewed on my first tentative mouthful, I considered the absence of discomfort. When had I stopped taking his unannounced visits as invasions of privacy? The man had snuck into my room in the middle of the night, yet all I felt was mild relief to know he was alive and well. It didn't strike me as a normal, sensible reaction.

Then again, "normal" and "sensible" weren't words I would use to characterize my recent behavior at all. My emotions were all over the place, as proven by the angry outbursts, culminating in the punch I had thrown. Eyeing the recovering fingers on my right hand, strapped together with white tape, I wondered if Reno was right in claiming it was a common reaction, considering the circumstances. Part of me found some comfort in that. A much larger part just wanted my levelheaded self back, to feel normal again. I couldn't trust my feelings, nor my body's reactions. Perhaps it was no wonder I found the disorderly redhead more reliable than my own instincts.

The sound of the door opening made me turn my head just in time to see Rude step inside and come to a sudden halt. He stared at Reno with a blank face, then looked at me with raised eyebrows.

I shrugged and took another bite of my pizza.

The bald man turned his face back toward his fellow Turk, then sighed with a slight shake of his head, handed me the cup of coffee he had brought and left. I munched on cold pizza, sipped hot coffee and contemplated the oddities of life while watching the red-haired Turk slumber.

I was down to the crust when Rude returned, this time carrying a steaming mug. He nodded at me, then came to a stop several paces from the couch.

"Reno."

He had not raised his voice much above conversational level, but Reno tensed and shot up, fist raised and wild-eyed. The moment his gaze fell on Rude, however, he groaned and slumped down again, limp as a noodle. The whole incident took no more than two seconds.

"For fuck's sake, it can't be morning already," he whined.

"It is," the other man replied.

I suddenly realized my pizza slice was in my mouth, forgotten halfway through a bite at Reno's "twitch". At the crunch as I bit into the crust, the redhead cracked open a drowsy eye and rolled it over in my direction.

"Mornin', Doc," he mumbled, lifting an arm in a half-hearted wave. "Apparently."

"Good morning."

"Oh fuck that, ain't nothin' good 'bout mornings."

While the grumbling man pushed himself up to a sitting position, the bald Turk took a step closer to dangle the mug within easy reach. Reno's face brightened instantly.

"Rude, my man! You're the best, yo."

He slurped down a large gulp, then yawned and wrangled the goggles into their usual position, pushing his messy hair out of his eyes in the process.

"Not gonna join us, buddy?" he asked when the other man headed for the door.

"Got work."

"Eh, your loss."

After another mouthful of coffee, Reno set the mug down and stretched like a sleepy cat.

"So, will finding a Turk on the couch in the morning be a regular occurrence while I'm here?" I asked.

"Shit, I hope not. Not that there's anythin' wrong with the company," he grinned, "but a couch just can't beat a bed. 'Sides, while I may look it, I don't sleep in my suit all the time. It ain't exactly comfy, yo."

He tugged on his white shirt until it was more or less correctly draped over his lanky torso, then leaned forward to grab a piece of pizza. I sat down beside him and did the same.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Eh, just fuckloads of overtime," he scoffed, then took a bite of the slice, chewing as he continued. "Jugglin' two jobs sucks pretty hard, 'specially with Superbitch breathin' down my neck."

"Has Scarlet been giving you a hard time?" I asked, frowning.

"Well, she ain't happy 'bout her new plaything missin', that's for sure. Pretty sure she's decided it's my fault."

The redhead didn't seem very concerned, but a nervous sensation jittered down my spine nonetheless.

"Does she suspect anything?"

"Nah, she just wants an excuse to yell at me some more, yo."

That didn't sound any better. I looked him over, noting the shadows under his eyes. His slouch seemed more pronounced than usual, too.

"Will you be all right?"

Reno arched an eyebrow and sent me a sideways glance, although I couldn't tell if the expression on his face indicated amusement or surprise. Perhaps it was both.

"Dontcha worry 'bout me, babe. She can't prove nothin'. Now enough 'bout Scarlet or I'm gonna lose my appetite. How are things in here? You holdin' up ok?"

"I'm fine," I replied with a shrug. "It gets a bit lonely, though. Rude keeps me fed, but he isn't much for conversation, is he?"

"I hear ya," he chuckled. "Tell you what, as soon as Scarlet fucks off somewhere, I'll take ya to Reeve's. Can't have ya go nuts in here, eh?"

As welcome as the suggestion was, I couldn't help but feel worried. Even if Scarlet was away, HQ security would be on the lookout for me.

"Is it safe?"

"I ain't in the habit of gettin' girls into trouble," he said, smirking.

"Come on, be serious," I chided, although with a crooked smile. "What if the guards recognize me?"

"Hey, if you prefer to stay here for some 'alone time' with ol' Reno, all you gotta do is ask."

I rolled my eyes. I should have known my request would only encourage him to do the exact opposite.

"You're just a fountain of innuendo this morning, aren't you?"

The smirk grew into a devious grin.

"Only 'cause you inspire me, babe. One look at ya and it just comes spurtin' out."

I nearly choked on my coffee.

"Oh god, that's just... Just no."

"Sorry," he laughed, not sounding sorry at all. "It's true, tho'. Laney doesn't get it half the time, Rude won't gimme anythin' to work with and Reeve just does that big ol' sigh of his. Ain't no fun to play with just yourself, y'know."

It was a struggle to keep a straight face, but I pulled it off. I even managed a level stare at the man.

"You're going to keep doing it now, aren't you?"

"Oh, I can go all day and night for you, baby."

"For the love of– Does this room have an alarm button? It needs an alarm button."

"Why, did I start a fire somewhere? Need me to hose it down?"

"Augh!" I hid my face in my hands, shaking with poorly contained laughter. "You're horrible! 'Need me to hose it–' Jeez, that's so bad!"

"So bad it's good, darlin'."

It was the over-the-top drawl that was the last straw. I completely cracked up, to the point that I didn't even notice the door open.

"Oh, hey Rude, whassup? Don't mind her, she just got her mind blown by my hose."

"Reno!"

"Explains the laughing," the burly man said as he handed a phone to his colleague.

I collapsed into another fit of giggles at the dirty look Reno shot him, but whatever the redhead saw on the screen of the device took priority over snappy comebacks.

"Well, shit," he sighed. "And I ain't even had a shower yet."

I sobered up quickly when the Turk shoved the phone into a pocket and leaned down to grab his boots.

"Trouble?" I asked.

"Nah, just the usual bullshit," he scoffed, getting up to give the mistreated jacket a quick shake before shrugging it on. "Gotta run, Fitz. See ya when I see ya."

The man grabbed his coffee mug and the last slice of pizza, then headed out to face the trials of the day.

Reno returned in the evening, carrying a couple of takeout boxes, but the briefcase in the other hand and the alert look in his eyes suggested this wasn't just a social call.

"What's up?" I asked, setting down my study material next to the boxes he dropped on the table.

The man straightened up and pushed his free hand into a trouser pocket. There wasn't anything alarming about the pensive look I received as such, but it put me on edge simply because I wasn't sure how to interpret it.

"Got good news and bad news. Good news is, seems this whole end-of-the-world thing is all Hojo can think about right now, so you got nothin' to worry 'bout from him."

The information did indeed provide a considerable measure of relief, but I didn't like the way Reno had phrased it.

"And the bad news?"

"You got a new fan. This dude Kerrigan from Dr. Freaky's team got in touch for a deal. Wants to get his hands on ya before Scarlet."

The name rang some faint bells, but the memories were too fuzzy to provide a face to go with it. Regardless, the fact that I recalled hearing the name had to mean this man had been present during my stay in the Science Department. The sudden discomfort made me shift in my seat on the couch.

"Why?"

A humorless smirk raised one corner of the redhead's mouth.

"He didn't bother to explain much to a dumb Turk who knows nothin' about science, but it's obvious the guy remembers you from the lab. Seems your sneaky appearin'-and-disappearin' tricks got his attention again. Wants to poke 'round your genes or somethin'."

"He's not going to find anything in my genes about that," I protested weakly, trying to reign in the apprehension.

Reno responded with an indifferent shrug.

"That's his problem, yo."

"So... What did you tell him?"

"Made the deal, 'course."

My heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

"Chill, Fitz. It was just so I could get him to gimme these."

It was the satisfaction that seeped into his smirk as he placed the brown leather briefcase on the table that told me what had happened, rather than the item itself. My fingers relaxed, undoing the deep gouges they had dug into the cushy sofa seat.

"You played him."

The smug smile widened, confirming my suspicion before the man uttered his reply.

"Never trust a Turk, babe."

"Now you tell me," I sighed with a nervous giggle, reaching for the briefcase to take a peek inside. "What's all this, then?"

"Buncha files from the Science Department. A bit of this and that, to make it tricky for him to guess what we're really after, but there oughta be somethin' on their Mako research in there."

I counted ten folders of varying thickness, presumably containing information on ten projects of varying levels of secrecy. Ten projects in return for one new one, namely me. I wondered if I should be flattered.

"Won't he expect you to uphold your part of the deal?"

"Gotta find ya first," the Turk pointed out with a wink. "Besides, it'd be a real bad idea for him to cause trouble now. I've got pretty solid proof the guy sells company secrets, after all."

A smile spread across my face as it occurred to me I was holding the evidence in my hands.

"Won't that get you in trouble, too?"

"Nah," he grinned. "If anyone asks, I was just doin' my job. All part of an internal investigation and the files never left the Turk offices. No harm, no foul."

"You're something else," I chuckled, shaking my head.

"That's what the ladies keep tellin' me," he said with a wry smile, which faded as he watched me pull out a handful of folders. "It ain't gonna be fun readin', but I guess you already know that."

I nodded as I looked over the labels attached to the pale blue folders, each with short lines of text printed in a neat font. The project name, followed by the subject's code. The researcher in charge, usually Hojo. Dates, occasionally the name of a place.

"You sure you're up for it?"

"Only one way to find out, right?" I answered with a tense excuse for a laugh.

I didn't look up, but I could sense his eyes on me while I set the folders down on the table and pulled out another stack for a brief inspection. Once the briefcase was empty, Reno reached inside his jacket and produced one more file, bent and folded.

"He also gave me this."

The code "TU-021" was written on the first line of the label. I recognized it immediately.

"My file," I whispered.

"Yeah. Would've been weird not to ask for it, y'know? If you don't wanna read it, I'll just get rid of it."

Just looking at the drab blue cover of the damned thing instilled an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Part of me was tempted to burn it straight away, but that wasn't going to happen. The need to know what had been done to me was much stronger.

"No. Leave it."

"All right." He placed the file next to the pile that had formed on the coffee table, then looked me over with uncharacteristic concern furrowing his brow. "So, uh... D'ya want me 'round for this or should I just leave ya to it?"

"Stay. Please." I glanced up at him and attempted a weak smile. "I think I'm going to need your awful sense of humor."

He smiled, then grabbed one of the takeaway boxes and dropped himself down on the couch beside me.

"Admit it, babe. You really just want me here for the eye candy."

I snorted softly, shaking my head in fond amusement.

"Starting already, huh?"

"I like to give women what they want," he drawled, fishing out a piece of food with his fingers and popping it in his mouth. "I'm nice like that, yo."

"A bona fide gentleman," I mumbled to myself as I reached for the first folder.

Chapter Text

I started awake and bolted up to a sitting position, whipping my head around this way and that, still in the clutches of an oppressive dream I couldn't recall in detail. Only once the near-nightmare faded, was I able to recognize the bed as the one I had slept in these past few nights. I pushed the hair out of my face, wiping the cold sweat off my forehead. I felt so disoriented, in no small part because I couldn't remember getting into bed at all.

A piece of paper on the bedside table caught my eye. The terrible handwriting was a wee bit easier to decipher this time.

yo Fitz
dragged your sleeping ass to bed
didn't do anything weird, honest

To think that a note phrased like this could make me feel better. With a crooked smile, I pondered how much the redhead's definition of weird might differ from mine. At least I was still wearing clothes.

Underneath the text was a drawing of a man with an uncanny resemblance to Rude, being chased by a menacing chocobo. The smile widened, then slowly dissipated. I glanced over at the seating area. The takeout boxes were gone, but the folders remained. One of them lay precariously near the edge of the table, untouched since I had left it there. That one hadn't been "fun reading", as Reno had warned.

To my surprise, my own file hadn't been so difficult to read. The fact that I was referred to as "specimen" or with the impersonal code they had assigned to me made it easier to dissociate myself from the report, I supposed. The data had also confirmed my vehement hopes that I had mostly been subjected to the gathering of tissue samples and various biometric readings to establish a baseline for future work, rather than actual experimentation. There was some relief in that, as long as I didn't think too hard about the proposed courses of action, such as the speculation on my fertility.

In the end, it was a file detailing the experiments performed on a young man that had proven too much for me. Maybe it was the pictures, which were absent from mine. Maybe it was the fact that unlike me, this man had actually been experimented on – against his will, if my experience was anything to go by. By the time I had slammed the folder shut and thrown it onto the table, my chest had already constricted to point of being painful.

While I had paced back and forth, struggling with flashbacks and a revulsion so deep that it threatened to manifest in a physical way, Reno had distracted me with a story about a hilariously ill-fated mission to a chocobo farm, of all places. Thinking back now, it seemed so horribly inappropriate and out of place, but at the time it had only been a matter of minutes before he had lured a giggle out of me. After a few more of those, I had calmed down enough to sit down again.

I studied the drawing on his note and smiled as some of the details returned to me. The tale was no doubt more fiction than fact, but it had served its intended purpose. I must have fallen asleep some time before its end, however. I had been so drained.

Note in hand, I approached the files with hesitant steps, at a loss for how to proceed now. I worked with lab-grown cells and tissues or computational models of biological systems and organisms. I had never had to deal with experiments on animals, much less people. It was just not done. It wasn't right. I couldn't use data like this, could I?

Upon a closer look, it dawned on me that the folders were not as I had left them. They were still in two piles, but now the smaller one had my own on top. The first one in the other pile I recognized as a project comparing genomes with regard to Mako compatibility. The one underneath was a study on the effects of Mako on the growth and division rates of different cell lines. A quick check showed that all seven folders were on projects using cells, genetic material and occasionally animals. The small stack contained the human subjects.

Reno.

I dropped back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling, trying to sort out my conflicted thoughts. I got the Turk's hint, but I wasn't sure it was good enough. The non-human experiments were still performed by the same unethical researchers. My lips thinned into a humorless mockery of a smile as I eyed the stack topped by my own file. Careful what you wish for, Tess. I wasn't sure how I could not have expected this when I requested biological Mako research data, but I hadn't. It had never even crossed my mind. Too naive, as always.

The wish had already been made and granted, however. Reeve expected me to use it to provide answers. If I didn't, would he hold it against me? Would he deny my request for freedom? What if the Mako reactor situation was as dire as Reeve feared and informed decisions and actions were necessary? Shouldn't I at the very least evaluate what I had learned to decide if it could be used?

Yes... Yes, I should, following Reno's suggestion to leave the most abhorrent projects untouched. Was it the right decision? I didn't know, but it was a logical step to take, and that was better than nothing. So I told myself, at least.

I flipped over Reno's note and grabbed the pen lying on the table. In the top left corner of the sheet, I wrote "Mako" and drew a circle around it. On the right side, I listed the words "strength", "speed" and "senses", then connected them to the first one with lines. After a few moments' deliberation, I added "poisoning" and "mutation" to the list.

Mako was often mentioned together with something called Jenova. The word tugged at the edges of hazy memories, but I couldn't place it. Perhaps it was something I had heard mentioned during my stay at the labs. I was equally unsure of Jenova's effects and purpose. The two relevant experiments in the files were for both Mako and Jenova used together, so I could only make some educated guesses.

I jotted down "Jenova" underneath my previous notes and circled it, followed by the connections "trigger?" and "catalyst?". Reeve may have asked me to look into the effects of Mako only, but understanding how the two substances worked together might just help with that.

I stared at the word, tapping the pen against my bottom lip. What was this Jenova? Its effects appeared to be due to changes on the genetic level, which struck me as viral, but the reports spoke of Jenova cells, not viruses. Then again, could I be sure it wasn't just a difference in the definition of the word between worlds? While much was remarkably – incredibly – similar, I had already noticed a few oddities, such as the names of genes following some other nomenclature than the one I knew.

In any case, it was safe to assume that Jenova cells were biological units rather than a substance like Mako. I added the words "cells - organism" to Jenova's list.

One of the reports described a chocobo chick experiment where those given Mako alone were completely outclassed in every measured way by the ones that received a Mako-Jenova combination. The pure Mako chicks nonetheless outperformed their unmodified siblings. Maybe Mako inhibited normal biological safety measures, unleashing the full potential that was already present in muscle cells, like a never-ending adrenaline surge. That could explain the enhanced speed and strength.

Reflexes and reaction speed, however, were limited by the signaling capacity of the nervous system. What if this Jenova somehow improved that capacity? That could explain how such abnormally high performance was possible. The strain on the physical body would be far beyond what it could normally handle, though. There had to be some kind of a hardening of tissues, too, or maybe just the ability to heal injuries at a much faster rate.

I scribbled out the word "senses" and rewrote it in the Jenova list, then added "healing/regeneration?". After some more rumination, I drew a double-headed arrow between Mako and Jenova, then wrote "synergy?" beside it.

So many question marks. It was like trying to complete a jigsaw, only most of the pieces were missing and I didn't even know what the end result was supposed to look like. A smirk found its way onto my lips. In that sense, it wasn't very different from a normal day at work – if one overlooked the fact that I was trying to come up with a theoretically sound basis for super powers.

Back home I'd had the option to go searching for more pieces as needed, however. Here, I was stuck with what had been provided, and it wasn't much. I set down the pen with a sigh and began rereading the files in the taller stack to double-check the facts, trying to ignore the slight tremble in my hands.

Had I been completely honest with myself, I might have admitted that it wasn't fear for what I might find in the reports that was the cause this time. No, it was what I might find within myself that made me nervous. My curiosity had been aroused, and with it came the gnawing concern that I was taking the first steps down a very slippery slope.

Late in the afternoon, I returned from a bathroom break to find Reno standing by the coffee table, my notes in hand. As I approached, he glanced up from the sheet that had filled up with my handwriting during the day's work.

"You've been busy, Doc."

"I guess I have," I agreed with a faint smile, although 'engrossed' would have been a better word for it. I might even have forgotten to eat and take a shower, had Rude not roused me from my research by delivering breakfast. "I don't suppose you have anything to add?"

One corner of his mouth tugged upward and he shrugged, putting the paper back on top of the stack of files.

"Nah, dunno nothin' about science."

I slowed down, giving him a quizzical look. There was something off about his tone, reflected in his posture and the wan face. It was as if the man had been deflated.

"Are you okay?"

The question earned me another half-smile.

"You keep askin' me that. Guess I look like shit, huh?"

"I'm afraid you do, yes."

"Gee, thanks. Kick a dude while he's down, why dontcha?" he chuckled. "Nothin' you need to worry 'bout, tho'. Didn't get much sleep last night, is all." The statement was punctuated with a yawn, followed by a roll of his shoulders. "So, feel like a break? Reeve asked to see ya."

"Sure," I replied, allowing him the less than subtle change of topic. "I assume Scarlet is elsewhere?"

"Yup, thank fuck. Still, gotta be careful." The redhead grinned and raised his other hand, shaking out a blonde mess of hair that had been concealed by his body. "Ever worn a wig before?"

I felt ridiculous. The dark-rimmed, fake glasses pinched my nose and the long blonde hair felt too hot. It tickled my neck, too, which was nothing short of infuriating. I decided my first priority as a free woman would be to find a hairdresser and restore my own overlong curls to the beloved pixie cut. I could only hope that would happen before they grew as long as my silly wig.

Once we were on our way to the workshop, though, the decrease in the number of employees milling in the corridors was marked enough to distract me from the woes of my disguise.

"People are takin' time off," Reno explained when I commented on it. "Y'know, spendin' time with family, doin' the stuff they always wanted to do but never got 'round to, that sorta thing."

"Because of Meteor," I guessed, pushing my glasses higher in the hopes of finding them a less uncomfortable position on my nose. "Any news on that?"

"I ain't gonna lie to ya," he sighed. "It don't look good. Unless we do somethin' 'bout Meteor, we can pretty much kiss our asses goodbye."

Well, then. Guess I didn't need to worry about my hair growing too long after all.

"What about the Weapons? What will they do?"

"No one really knows much about 'em. Apparently they're supposed to defend the Planet from threats, but right now they can't get at him, so they're just... I dunno, loiterin' or somethin'."

I sent him an inquisitive glance. "'Him'? Not Avalanche?"

Reno laughed and shook his head, a bit sheepish.

"Shit, I must be real worn out. Usually I'm better at watchin' my damn mouth. Best if you don't ask too much about that, yo."

He looked it, too. I allowed the poor man a change of subject once more.

"So, the Weapons are the planet's guardians, huh?" I mused. "I wonder if your world has anything it can use against Meteor, too."

"Heh, maybe the Planet's just keepin' that shit hidden. Y'know, hopin' to finally to get rid of us pesky humans."

The joking tone was there, barely, but the weakness of it caught me off guard. Even the smile was anemic. My stomach fluttered with unease and I had to stifle an irrational impulse to slap him back into his usual self.

Reeve was in a similar state. The drawn face with dark shadows under his eyes spoke of little sleep and too much consternation. Nonetheless, the smile that greeted me was warm and the eyes lit up with amusement as he took in my disguise. Mercifully, the executive kept any comments to himself.

"Good to see you, Tess," the man said as he pushed himself out of a chair. "I trust you've been staying out of trouble lately?"

"I haven't punched anyone else, though Reno does push his luck at times," I joked, although I felt a mild heat of embarrassment on my cheeks.

"Hey, be nice, blondie," the redhead admonished with a playful poke in the arm. "I've been a goddamn saint, yo."

"I bet," Reeve responded, although I wasn't sure to which of us it was directed. "Well, there's little for us to do at the moment besides keeping an eye on the building, so I thought we could make ourselves useful instead of twiddling our thumbs."

"Sounds good to me," I smiled. "Oh, thanks for the reading material, by the way."

"Ah yes, the treatises. Have you discovered anything interesting?"

"Still trying to wrap my head around it all, to be honest," I confessed, shaking my head. "Bugenhagen makes it sound like the planet is alive, in a sense. It's... mind-boggling."

"His theories are intriguing."

Recalling my earlier talk with Reno, an unexpected idea began to take shape in my mind and I took a few moments to toy with it, speaking out loud as I did so.

"You know... Assuming it's true and Gaia can be thought of as an enormous organism, then the Weapons are sort of part of its immune system. And if so... Maybe it would be possible to give the system a boost. Help the Weapons do what they're supposed to."

"Help them?" Reno repeated, making no effort to hide the incredulity. "How the fuck are we s'posed to help things like that?"

"I don't know, I'm just playing with an idea," I replied with a small shrug. "You said they were unable to complete their task and are just 'loitering'. They haven't attacked anyone, right? Has anyone attacked them?"

The two men exchanged a glance before the Turk answered my question.

"Nah. Heidegger and Scarlet have been busy comin' up with ways to blow 'em sky-high, but haven't tried anythin' yet."

I hummed, remembering the early video clips and pictures I had seen on TV during news reports on the building-sized creatures. Later newscasts had focused on Meteor, perhaps due to the Weapons' inactivity.

"I'd recommend you keep it that way. I don't think we want to give these things a reason to see humans as a threat."

"Thanks for that happy thought, Doc," Reno grumbled. "Does this immune system theory of yours say what we should do instead?"

"It's hardly a theory. I wouldn't even call it a hypothesis. Just conjecture at this point, really."

"Jeez, whatever," he groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "Just answer the damn question."

"I did, in a way," I countered. "I'm just thinking out loud here. I don't have all the answers."

"'Course you don't. Awesome."

I sent him an irritated look, but it was only a half-hearted reproach. Testy sarcasm was an improvement over his earlier resignation.

Another idea occurred to me. Recalling the news reports had also reminded me of AVALANCHE. Reno's slip about "him" made me suspect the terrorist group wasn't behind Meteor at all. In fact, it had seemed a bit odd that they would do something so harmful, considering their reputation as a pro-Planet organization.

"If you want answers, maybe you should talk to those eco warriors instead of using them as scapegoats."

Neither man looked surprised by my choice of words. My hunch must have been true.

"Huh? Why?" the Turk questioned, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"They've been fighting for the planet for a while now, haven't they? They might know something we don't."

"You know, that's exactly what I've been saying," Reeve interjected, sending Reno a pointed look that was impossible to miss. Its target was not pleased.

"This again? You just don't give up, do ya?"

"You heard Tess just now. It may be a long shot, but if there's a chance they could end this..."

Reno rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in defeat.

"Oh fine, I'll call Rude."

I watched in utter bewilderment as the sour-faced redhead stomped away, fishing around an inner jacket pocket.

"What was that about?" I asked the other man.

"Just differing opinions on how to handle a situation down in Junon," Reeve replied breezily with a self-satisfied smile on his face. "Thanks for the help."

"Uh... You're welcome?"

"It's on tomorrow," Reno reported, slipping his phone back into a pocket as he returned, then pointed at Reeve. "Just make sure your damn cat's ready to pounce, yo."

"I'll do my part, don't worry," Reeve assured him.

I gave up on trying to understand what the two were talking about. For all I knew it was some secret spy code, anyway.

"All right. Now can we drop this already?" the Turk requested, rubbing his weary eyes. "I'd like just a couple of hours with no worries 'bout the end of the world, 'kay?"

"Fair enough," Reeve agreed.

A small crease formed between my eyebrows as I watched the dark-haired man pick up the blazer that had been draped over the back of a chair and shrug it on. He usually left it off while in the workshop.

"What's on the menu today?" I wondered.

"Well, I thought we could try something a little different. I've hooked up the power surge system I mentioned a while back and would like to run a few tests on it."

"Overloading the shields, you mean?"

Reeve had been keen on pushing the capabilities of the suit's shields. I had accepted the proposed changes to their design, although with some reluctance, as the new system was more offensive than defensive in nature. I hadn't been surprised when Reeve admitted he had gotten the idea from a throwaway comment made by the redheaded Turk.

"That sounds cool," Reno said. "If by 'tests' you mean blowin' shit up."

"Yes, that's right," Reeve answered my question, then turned to the redhead, "and, technically, yes."

"Awesome," the Turk said, grinning. "I'm game, yo."

I eyed the executive with some apprehension, wondering how powerful the electrical discharge would be.

"What does 'technically blowing shit up' actually mean?" I asked.

"The SOLDIER floor is more or less empty at the moment," Reeve began his explanation, "so I reserved one of the sparring rooms for testing purposes."

Reno's eyebrows shot up and now it was his turn to give the older man a dubious look.

"The SOLDIER floor? Didn't expect that."

"It's not ideal," Reeve lamented, "but I don't want to risk drawing unwanted attention by using one of the Weapons Development testing chambers."

"Got a point there," the redhead conceded, rubbing his chin. "Scarlet may have fucked off to Junon, but the rest of her department hasn't."

"Excuse me?" I asked pointedly, letting my gaze flicker back and forth between the men. "Still not clear on the blowing stuff up part."

"Sorry, Tess," the executive said with a chuckle. "Don't worry, it's not as dramatic as it sounds. We'll see what the surge does to some leftover crates and boxes, that's all."

"Aw, that's it?" Reno whined. "Talk 'bout false advertising."

The Turk apparently belonged to the group of people who recharged their mental batteries in the company of others. His oddly subdued behavior had already begun to fade and he was reverting to his playful self. I was relieved. There was something disturbing about a hushed, toned-down Reno.

Reeve had already packed the protective suit into an inconspicuous crate that was waiting on a cart by the door. The three of us made our way to the so-called SOLDIER floor with our cargo and without incident. In fact, we hardly saw anyone once we left the elevator; the floor was indeed as deserted as the executive had claimed.

A shame, really. After reading about the lurid adventures of the SOLDIER in the book Reno had given me, I was curious about seeing one of these nigh-mythical beings in person.

Soon I found myself suited up and standing in the middle of a spacious room with reinforced walls and floor, empty save for the small stacks of surplus packing materials surrounding me. It was a very modest setup, which I was grateful for. The unremarkable view soothed my jittery nerves.

"All right, we're good to go. Whenever you're ready."

Reeve's voice, tinged with a metallic note through the suit's speakers, was transmitted from the control room. I glanced over at its window, but could only see my red and black suit in the mirrored glass; my own face obscured by the helmet's golden, reflective surface. The Shinra company seemed keen on watching without being seen. It was rather creepy.

Uncertain of what to expect once I gave the command, I took a deep breath and braced myself.

"Sparky, execute power surge."

Nothing happened. I stood still for a while, ears pricked up for any audible sign from Sparky, then looked up at the mirrored window and raised my arms in a display of puzzlement.

Instead of hearing Reeve's voice as I had expected, the Turk's lazy drawl came through the speakers.

"Oh, hey, Reeve got the command wrong. It's 'blast off', yo."

In the background I could hear the executive's incredulous "what?!", screeched an octave higher than usual. Somehow, that didn't strike me as a good sign.

"Uh, I kinda sorta went and changed it." It sounded like the redhead was explaining himself to Reeve in front of the microphone, rather than talking directly to me. "C'mon, Reeve, who the hell wants to say 'execute power surge' when they're about to do somethin' cool?"

I could hear the irate reply, although I couldn't make out the words.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Yo Fitz, just go ahead and try it. Don't worry, I didn't change anythin' else. Not even Sparky's dumb name."

"Reeve?" I called hesitantly.

The sounds of a heated, muffled conversation drifted in over the radio, but Reno must have moved away from the microphone, because now I couldn't understand what either of them was saying. After a few minutes, the older man came back on the line.

"It doesn't sound like he did any damage. Reno may act like an idiot, but he wouldn't have pulled something like this unless he was sure he knew what he was doing." In the background, I could hear Reno's protests about the 'idiot' part. Reeve ignored them. "In the mean time... Just give his command a try."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "You do realize that this is a man who, by his own admission, is turned on by explosions?"

A small scuffle, followed by Reno's indignant voice.

"C'mon Doc, gimme a break. I joked about it once!"

A smile appeared on my face, but I kept my voice neutral.

"Twice, as I recall."

"He's mentioned to it me too, once or twice," Reeve supplied helpfully.

Silence, for several seconds.

"Yeah, okay, fine! So I happen to like explosions. That don't mean I wanna see ya go up in one!"

A number of bad snuff jokes came to mind, but I resisted the urge to speak any of them out loud.

"Why Reno, at this rate you're going to make me think you care."

"Just shut up and do the thing already," he groaned.

Despite the jokes and reassurances by both men, I was rather apprehensive about the idea of Reno fiddling with my suit's systems. My fists clenched and opened repeatedly as I looked over the targets around me one last time. In a few seconds, I might just end up sharing their fate of being blasted to smithereens.

To top it off, I would have to use the redhead's choice of phrase. Fantastic. What a way to go.

"Sparky," I said, trying not to think about the more unfortunate ways this farce could end. "...Blast off."

The suit hummed, a sound which rapidly grew in volume, and I stared at my arms in awe as bursts of blue electricity crackled over the suit's surface. Then, with a loud clap not unlike thunder, the energy was released.

My ears were ringing and my eyes had squeezed shut at the blinding flash. Gingerly, I opened them, then froze, staring at the empty space around me. The cardboard boxes stacked around me were flattened against the walls, while the crates were little more than splinters below them.

"Holy shit," I breathed.

"Warning. Power level critical. System powering down in–"

With that half a warning, the hazard suit went dead.

I lurched under the sudden weight hanging off of my shoulders, but managed to stay upright. With effort, I was able to raise my hands, but by the time I had unlocked the helmet, the doors burst open and my observers hurried in to help me.

"That was pretty cool, eh?" the Turk said once he had lifted the helmet off my head, grinning wide.

Unable to find words for a better comment than his, I laughed with both relief and disbelief, nodding in agreement. Now that the helmet was off, I noticed the sharp smell of electricity and scorched wood in the air.

"Sorry about the battery drain," Reeve apologized, helping the gloves off. "I must have made a miscalculation, or a mistake in the programming. I'll fix it before the next tests."

With empty batteries, there was nothing else to do in the testing chamber. Reeve decided to hunt down the problem on his own and carted Sparky to the workshop while Reno accompanied me back to the Turk offices. On the way, we stopped by the balcony for one of his smoking breaks.

Leaning against the railing, my eyes wandered upward instead of down to the streets below. The thin layer of clouds covering Midgar that afternoon could not hide the red blemish that heralded Meteor's arrival. It was much larger in real life than it looked on TV. I removed the glasses to examine it without any obstacles.

"How long before it's supposed to hit?" I asked Reno as he lit up a cigarette.

He eyed the spot and took a long drag before answering.

"Depends on who you ask. Days. Weeks. Guess no one knows for sure."

Weeks at most, and then we would all be as good as dead. While I wasn't very familiar with the ecosystems of this world, it was nonetheless clear to me that an impact with something of that size would have disastrous consequences for the whole planet. It seemed I had traded one doomed world for another.

Perhaps I should have felt sad or afraid, but there was only a resigned emptiness that came with the knowledge that there was nothing I could do. I couldn't even fully comprehend a magical threat like this.

"Apparently the plan is to blow the fucker to pieces," the Turk commented, coming up beside me. "If they actually manage to pull it off, it oughta be one helluva show, yo."

That was... mundane. I would have expected flashy displays of some kind of anti-Meteor magic.

"How do they plan to do that?"

"I think they're still workin' on that part," he said with a wry smirk.

"Oh, well, nothing to worry about then. Glad to hear we're in good hands."

His lopsided smile widened at my sarcastic remark, but a melancholy note crept into his eyes and voice when he spoke.

"Guess you wish you were back on your own world now, eh, Fitz?"

I couldn't tell whether the sudden, poignant jab in my chest was due to his words or the way he said them.

"Oh, I don't know," I mused, my expression mirroring his. "Going out with a bang has a certain appeal."

Reno chuckled softly.

"You're my kinda girl, babe."

The declaration was facetious, but a warmer smile flashed across his face when our eyes locked for a moment. I returned it and, for just a second, I wished we had met under different circumstances.

Chapter Text

The door slammed open, making me flinch with such force that I dropped the folder I was leafing through. Its contents scattered onto the floor and I whipped my head up to glare daggers at the man in the doorway.

"Reno!" I exploded, trying to swallow my heart back down from my throat. "Just what the hell do you–"

The look on his face made me cut my rant short. His eyes were serious, his jaw set.

"You said it was just you."

His words made no sense, but the forced, even tone of voice shifted my flare of temper toward unease.

"What are you talking about?"

My attempt to rise became a startled tumble back down when he rushed right up to me and slammed his hands down on the back of couch, trapping me between his arms as he stared me down.

"Were you lyin' to me?"

"Wh-what is this? I don't understand!"

I shrunk back against the upholstery in a vain attempt to put more distance between us. The Turk took a deep measured breath, then slowly pushed himself upright. His hands fell to his sides as he took a step backward.

"Answer the question."

"I haven't lied about anything!" I exclaimed, my voice shrill and shaky compared to his controlled tone. "Why are you acting like this?"

His phone rang. The sharp eyes stayed fixed on me as the Turk fished it out of a pocket and answered the call.

"Yeah?" A few seconds of silence, while I fidgeted under his unflinching gaze. "Got it."

Reno was moving before he had ended the call.

"We gotta move, Fitz. C'mon!"

As taken aback as I was by his behavior, the urgency that had now replaced the cold control convinced me it was best to do as I was told.

"Why? What's going on?" I asked as I scrambled up from the sofa.

"We're under attack. I'll tell ya more on the way."

I froze, but resumed moving at Reno's impatient wave. As soon as I was by the door, he took off at a brisk pace, forcing me into a half-jog in order to keep up with him.

"Where are we going?"

"The executive floor. Reeve's gonna meet us there."

Fresh fear chilled my gut. Reno was taking me up to the very people he had gone through such lengths to keep me hidden from? Something as very wrong here.

"Okay, we're moving now, so will you tell me what this is about already?"

Reno opened a maintenance door and upon going through it, I found myself in a stairwell. I guessed the elevators weren't an option due to the attack.

"Was already on my way home, when I got called back in by security," he explained. "Unknown intruders on floor fifty-eight. They shot the first two guards who went to check it out."

He didn't sound winded at all, despite taking the stairs two or three steps at a time, while I longed for my suit's power-assisted movement. My heart already felt like it might burst out of my chest from the effort of trying to keep up with him, although some of it was no doubt due to the growing apprehension.

"They just showed up outta nowhere," Reno continued, sending me an appraising glance. "Sound familiar? Even better, one of 'em is wearin' armor that looks an awful lot like yours."

This time I stopped dead in my tracks, clinging to the railing. I didn't even breathe.

"What?" I managed to choke out.

A loud buzzing sound, followed by angry shouts and gunfire, made us both snap our heads upward. Reno swore and grabbed my arm, pulling me through the nearest door onto another floor.

"What color?" I asked once the chaos was muffled by the door closing behind us.

"Huh?"

"The suit! What color is it?"

"Dunno, black and white footage only. Hold the questions for now, Doc," he instructed as he led me along another corridor. "We gotta stay quiet. This ain't a safe floor."

Mere minutes later, the Turk was proven right. As we were crossing a large open space, heavy footfalls approached from one of the adjoining corridors at a rapid pace. Reno dragged me along toward another corridor on the opposite side of the room, but before we could reach it, we heard the sounds of more booted feet echoing from its direction. We were surrounded.

"Halt! Hands in the air!"

The intruders came out with their guns raised and pointed at us. There were over a dozen of them, the desert camo of their outfits a sharp contrast to the clean lines of Shinra HQ's interiors. My breath hitched when I saw the Orca insignia on their chests. It was true, then. These soldiers were from Earth.

Reno showed his palms, keeping his hands half-raised, and slowly maneuvered us so that we had both groups within our field of vision. Therefore, I had an excellent view when their leader marched into the room. I instantly recognized the black and blue powered suit. Its wearer came to an abrupt halt as soon as he spotted us and stared at me with widened eyes; gray eyes that I thought I would never gaze into again.

My knees nearly gave out.

"Oh my god," I breathed.

The man took a step forward, but stopped when I matched it with one backward, keeping the distance between us. He removed his helmet, then raked his fingers through his short hair and grabbed the back of his neck, looking just as stunned as I felt.

"I don't believe this," he said, then let out a small laugh and looked at me in wonder. "You haven't aged a day."

"James?" I whispered.

"What?" Reno asked, his voice going up a pitch. "Whoa whoa whoa. This is James the Jerkface?"

I groaned internally. Trust Reno to ruin a moment like this.

James was not amused.

"Therèse, who is this?" he asked, giving the Turk a withering look.

I examined his face, focusing on the familiar lines of the angular jaw, the thin lips and the aquiline nose. It was him. It really was James, but he looked twenty years older.

"Hey, I'm right here, asshat. Why dontcha ask me, yo."

"Reno!" I snapped, grabbing his forearm.

"What!"

He glanced at me and I was taken aback by the anger in his eyes. He was fuming. Well, too bad. At the rate he was going, there would be two of us. Or three, rather.

"Will you please not make this worse than it is?" I hissed.

He held my gaze for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Whatever."

And just like that, he slouched into a perfect embodiment of indifference. I still had my palm on his arm, though, and could tell he was tense like a bowstring, ready to snap at a moment's notice. I looked up at him for a second longer, trying to catch his gaze again, but he kept it fixed on the enemy. Gritting my teeth, I too turned back to them.

James had watched the exchange in silence. When our eyes met again, his expression had darkened considerably.

"Friend of yours?" he asked in a frosty tone.

"As a matter of fact, yes." My reply was just as reserved as his, uttered as I glanced at the new symbol on his chest plate, right next to his name. "You're Orca now?"

The muscles in James' jaw tightened, but otherwise he showed no visible reaction to my accusatory tone.

"We have a mutually beneficial agreement."

His impassive way of saying it irked me more than the useless reply itself.

"What the hell does that mean? Are you claiming Cobalt is working with Orca? You expect me to believe Snyder just let you hand over the Gateway to a bunch of paramilitary terrorists?" I asked heatedly, referring to our head of department.

"Cobalt no longer exists. None of the major corporations exist anymore. Orca's running the show now, Thérèse."

That... I didn't expect. I blinked several times, trying to decide if I had actually heard what I thought he had said. Cobalt Industries, the second largest economic power in the world, no longer existed?

"What? How?"

James scoffed.

"Do you really think Orca would have found your precious Gateway project important enough to go up against Cobalt Industries for it alone? Please. That was just one of over a dozen coordinated strikes, aimed at the four largest international corporations. On that day, Orca took control."

"Jesus Christ," I whispered, staring at him in dazed disbelief. "You willingly helped Orca take over the whole damn world?"

"I chose the logically sound option."

I couldn't detect the faintest trace of remorse for what he had done.

"Logically sound?" I cried. "For god's sake, how could you? They don't care about saving Earth! They're just in it for themselves!"

"There's no Earth left to save!" the man snapped and stepped closer, his emotionless facade cracking for a moment. "There never was!"

"Whoa there, pal, keep your distance or this lil' chat is over," Reno warned as he pulled us both backward, taking the chance to position me a little further back than himself.

"What... What are you talking about?"

Noting the way the mercs tensed up as soon as the Turk moved, I had hastily spoken up to keep the situation from escalating further, but I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer to my question. What had Orca done?

Thankfully, James decided to heed Reno's warning and stayed put with no more than a brief, annoyed glare at the Turk.

"Earth is lost," was his flat reply. "The last of our crops failed last year. Nothing grows anymore."

"No, that can't be," I objected, shaking my head as if hoping it would disperse the cold sensation that had raised all the hairs on the back of my neck. "All the predictions gave us at least ten years before that happened."

He gave me a strange look.

"Therèse, that was more than ten years ago. You've been missing for fourteen years."

I did a double take.

He was joking. He had to be joking.

"Come on," I said with a nervous laugh. "I've been here for a year."

"Back home, it's the year 2092."

I just stared at him. I couldn't remember how to breathe.

In our theoretical discussions, Victor and I had reflected on the possibilities of differing laws of physics, on hypothetical forms of life fundamentally different from our own, on the long-term biological effects of various types of known phenomena in outer space... Had we ever talked about time?

You haven't aged a day. I thought it an odd comment at the time, but I had been too stunned by James' sudden appearance to dwell on it. I studied his face, taking in the visible gray in his hair and eyebrows, the wrinkles around his eyes.

His lips curved in a sad smile. "Yes, I'm much older than you are now."

"As frickin' weird as all this is, I guess that kinda makes sense," Reno commented. "Couldn't picture ya eager to marry this old fart. He's like a hundred years old, yo."

At least he had muttered it under his breath. Coming from the loudmouthed Turk, that was an admirable show of restraint. He had a point, though. While hardly as old as a hundred, James had aged more than just fourteen years. Twice that might have been my guess.

The reassuring constancy of Reno's blunt sarcasm was like a lifeline to hold on to in my distress. I clung to it, used it to pull myself out of the swirling abyss of conflicting emotions. With considerable effort, I pushed them aside to consider what my former fiancé had told me. While so much was confusing and unclear, one question rose above the others.

"Why did you come here now? If the Gateway still works, why wait fourteen years to come find me?"

James gave me a sour look.

"The Gateway was damaged. It was almost impossible to repair."

So, it had all been for nothing. Despite the sacrifices, the Gateway was now in Orca hands.

"Pity," I remarked with no small amount of bitterness. "We aimed for completely impossible."

As I glared at him, it seemed as if his eyes were... flickering, for lack of a better word. As if the shape of the pupils was unstable. It had to be some trick of the light, but it was still unnerving.

"Hmph. It doesn't matter now," James dismissed me. "The Gateway is functional, and now that I've found you, you're coming with me."

Was he fucking kidding me? After all he had done, he expected me to return to him at the drop of a hat?

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I ground out.

His face fell, but only momentarily, and then it drained of all emotion. The pupils oscillated again and a cruel smile twisted his mouth.

"You don't have a choice, Therèse."

His abrupt change frightened me, but the anger caused by his arrogant demands was more potent.

"You can't order me around like this! If Victor was here–"

"Victor is dead!" he roared.

I recoiled in shock. I had suspected it, but kept hoping against hope it wouldn't be so. To hear it said out loud, confirmed in such a venomous way... My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Instead, I felt a tear roll down my cheek, quickly followed by another.

"You... you killed Victor?"

I wanted to shout it out loud, to accuse him with an intrepidity befitting my old friend, but what came out was barely a whisper.

"Don't be ridiculous," James scoffed. "I didn't kill him. That was Orca's doing."

I must have been mistaken. This couldn't be James. I couldn't have loved this man with callous eyes and the Orca insignia proudly emblazoned over his cold heart.

"You think a fucking technicality makes any difference to me? You're wearing Orca armor, you know. You betrayed us, you brought them to us. You got him killed! You!"

My voice grew stronger with every word until I yelled the last word. Reno's fingers brushed across my hand. Whether it was intended as a warning or comfort I didn't know, but it made me whip my head around and cut my outburst short. The tears were streaming down now, but that wasn't the reason I looked away. I just couldn't stand the sight of the bastard in front of us right now.

"This discussion is irrelevant," James declared. "You're coming with me. Now."

My eyes widened in alarm as he signaled at the closest group of Orca soldiers and two of them moved in on me. Before they could reach me, though, someone else pushed me hard, sending me stumbling backward.

"The hell she is!"

When I had regained my balance and looked up, Reno was a whirlwind of motion among the enemy. Bright red and sparkling blue flashed so rapidly I couldn't quite tell what was happening. An Orca mercenary crumpled, his visor cracked and stained with blood. Another fell to the ground, convulsing. A third raised a pistol, aiming it at the human hurricane.

"Reno!"

The soldier swirled around and suddenly it was I who stared down the barrel of a gun. I gasped and froze in surprise, but Reno must have heard me yell his name, for with an incredible burst of speed he managed to take down the woman in front of him, then spin and deliver a kick to the other merc's arm. The gun went flying and clattered onto the floor just as the Turk struck a second time, giving the soldier a nasty electric shock in the chest with his baton.

The rescue came with a price, though. An Orca merc came up behind Reno and bashed the butt of his rifle into his back. He fell onto his knees with a pained growl. Another attacker kicked him in the gut, and he slumped forward, losing his grip on his weapon.

"No!"

Nobody listened to me. Two of the intruders hoisted Reno onto his feet, restraining his arms, while a third took the chance to smash a fist into his face. Reno grunted and I saw blood gush from his nose.

In a panic, I turned my head to call out to James, but on the way my eyes found something else. The pistol, knocked onto the floor and forgotten in the scuffle. Without thinking, I dove for it, spurred on by another half-stifled sound of pain from the overpowered Turk.

James, whose attention had been focused on Reno's capture, spun around at the sudden motion, but it was too late. When he faced me, I had the gun pointed at his chest.

"Enough!" I yelled.

I must have sounded different this time, for everyone went still. The soldier who had socked Reno stood with his arm in the air, ready to throw another punch, and craned his head back to look at me. In another situation, I might have found the awkward pose funny. At that moment, however, I was too busy trying to keep a firm grip on the pistol.

"What the hell are you doing?" James demanded.

What the hell was I doing indeed? I hadn't exactly had a chance to plan this far ahead. The only thing I knew was that I wasn't going anywhere with this man.

"I'm giving myself a choice," I said, mustering a remarkable calm considering the circumstances.

The gun was heavy and solid in my hands. Point the muzzle away from people. Keep fingers off the trigger. Somewhere along the road, even I had managed to pick up on a couple of rules on gun safety. Not that it mattered much. I was already breaking them both.

The soldiers exchanged uncertain glances, waiting for a signal from their leader. Those who had their rifles raised, were pointing them at Reno, not me. I was very grateful for that small mercy, but decided the situation could be further improved.

"Guns on the ground. Now!" I shouted.

They hesitated. Some of them gripped their rifles even tighter, I noticed.

"I've got this," James said to them. "Do as she says."

He had always been a confident man, bordering on arrogant, and this time it worked in my favor. Reluctantly, the soldiers obeyed.

"What do you think this will accomplish?" James asked, sounding more irritated than anything.

"I'm not sure, but I'm working on it."

I was dimly aware of a toothy grin on Reno's bloody face.

James scoffed. "Come on, Tess. This is ridiculous. You've never fired a gun in your life."

"There's a first time for everything, Jamie."

He leveled a stern gaze on me, the condescending one he always used when he felt I was being childish.

"You're not going to shoot me."

I pulled the trigger. It was almost like a petulant reflex, an action that I was barely aware of on a conscious level, but the bang ringing in my ears made it clear I had done it. It was just a warning shot, but it had the desired effect. The shock plain on James' white face both frightened me and egged me on. I was in control now.

I had learned a thing or two about intimidation at the mercy of the Turks. It was time to put it to use.

"Oops," I said with my best imitation of Reno's cocky smirk. "Missed."

James' mouth fell open, but no words came out. I recognized that look, knew all too well how it felt. I knew where I had him now.

After a few false starts, he found his voice again.

"You weren't really trying to aim at me."

My mind was racing, trying to come up with a resolution, some kind of plan to get both Reno and myself out of this, but my thoughts were scattered and elusive. I needed more time.

"Are you willing to bet on that, James?"

"You're not going to shoot me."

The tone wasn't quite as confident as the words themselves, but he seemed to be recovering quicker than I had hoped. My heart was pounding and I couldn't keep my hands from trembling. They could all see how nervous I was. I was losing my advantage.

"I've never pointed a gun at someone before," I admitted, managing to keep my voice low and even. "My hands are unsteady. Fingers... twitchy. I'm under considerable stress. It makes things rather unpredictable, don't you think?"

My target's facial expression remained composed, but I noticed the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"I might miss again. I might get lucky and shoot you through the heart." My lips twisted into a grim approximation of a smile. "Now wouldn't that be appropriate."

"Tess, there's no need for this unpleasantness. Just give me the gun and we can talk about this."

"I don't think so."

I was speaking with a confidence I didn't feel. I couldn't see a happy ending to this tale.

"You must come with me." James was losing his composure, begging and making demands at the same time. "For heaven's sake, you must help me!"

"I don't think I have to do a single damn thing for you, James."

How easily I could say it. How easily I could dismiss the man I once loved.

The whole situation was ridiculous. I was in what should have been an impossible world, aiming a gun at my former fiancé – a gun that I had already fired, for crying out loud – in order to stop him from kidnapping me back to our so-called home. Best of all, the only help I could hope for came from the people who had imprisoned me and kept me in this place against my will for months on end.

The absurdity of it all was getting to me. I felt giddy. I managed to transform the hysterical giggling that threatened to bubble forth into a maniacal grin and addressed the man who had betrayed me and Victor for his own gain.

"Dr. Hartley, after careful thought and consideration, I hereby officially resign my position as senior researcher on the Gateway project, effective immediately."

As soon as I had finished the sentence, all hell broke loose. The room erupted in smoke and gunfire, and within seconds I was knocked down, sending the gun tumbling out of my hands. My head hit the floor and a billion white stars overwhelmed my vision, while a heavy weight pinned me down from behind. Instinctively, I tried to push myself free.

"Stay down, for fuck's sake," Reno hissed by my ear. "D'ya have a fuckin' death wish?"

Bullets flew overhead, making his point abundantly clear. I reversed my actions, instead pressing myself flat against the floor and flinging my arms around my head. All I knew was the sound of shouting and gunfire, the smell of smoke and the weight of Reno's body on mine.

It felt like half an eternity passed this way, but in reality it must have been over within a minute or two. The Turk slowly pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around. I tried to move too, but again he stopped me, this time using the gentler approach of a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up at him sideways, frowning, but he was peering into the wispy smoke.

"Slow down, Doc," he mumbled. "We dunno who's still standin'. Better safe than sorry."

While he scanned the surroundings, I tried to make sense of what the hell had just happened. We had been attacked, that much was clear. By Shinra's people? It must have started with a smoke grenade or something similar, and Reno had used the surprise and confusion to free himself. Was he the one who had knocked me down? He must have, and then...

I blinked as the realization sank in. Reno had likely saved my life. In fact, he had shielded me using his own freaking body. He was still doing it, hovering over me until the coast was clear. His hand remained on my shoulder, its warmth seeping through the fabric of my shirt. For some reason, the simple touch made heat rise to my cheeks, too.

Before I could contemplate this unexpected turn of events, someone called the man's name.

"Alive and kickin', yo!"

He hopped off of me and straightened up, finally giving me the chance to push myself up to a sitting position and look around unhindered. The smoke was dissipating. Most of James' people were on the floor, unmoving – whether dead or unconscious, I didn't know. At that point, I didn't much care either. I felt numb. Dazed, really.

A petite blonde woman in a Turk suit approached us, holding a gun in each hand. She gave me a brief inspection with alert eyes, then turned her attention to Reno and handed him one of the weapons.

"Some of them got away," she reported while reloading her own pistol. "Security went after them."

"They're after the Doc here," Reno said and nodded toward me, using a commanding tone that sounded out of place coming from him. "You go hunt the fuckers down with security. Keep a cool head tho', the poor bastards ain't trained for fuckin' urban warfare. I'll stay with the target, call in the infantry. Go!"

"Yes sir!"

I stared after the blonde as she disappeared down the corridor. The concept of anyone calling Reno "sir" was even more baffling than hearing the man himself bark orders.

"Do I sound like I fuckin' care?" he snarled into the phone he had produced as soon as the female Turk took off. "We've got armed intruders on several floors of our goddamn HQ. Get. Here. Now!" A brief pause, in which I could barely make out an agitated voice on the other end of the line. "Heidegger ain't here and Tseng's down, which means I'm in charge, dumbass! Now get your lazy asses down here already!"

He slammed the phone shut, then wiped his nose on his sleeve and grimaced when he saw the blood staining the fabric an even darker shade.

"Fuckin' meathead soldier boy jerkface fuckers," he grumbled under his breath.

His ill-tempered griping was such a comforting return to normalcy after the long string of inconceivable, impossible events in a world gone completely topsy-turvy.

"Are you okay?" I finally had the presence of mind to ask.

"Fuckin' peachy," he growled, probing his jaw with careful fingers.

I drew a deep, unsteady breath and ran my hands through my hair, looking around at the bodies on the ground. I could have been one of them. So could Reno.

"What the hell where you thinking?" I exploded. "Attacking them like that? Alone? "

"Just had to buy some time, is all," he shrugged, checking the gun before tucking it into his belt. "I knew Laney was on her way."

He said it as if taking on a bunch of armed mercenaries by himself was no big deal.

"They could have killed you!"

"Aw, so you do care, babe," he smirked. "I've told ya, I got your back. Nice to know you got mine."

It took me a few moments to realize what he meant, and then the full weight of the stunt I had pulled hit me. I buried my face in my hands, then dragged them down in slow-motion until only my fingers covered my mouth. My eyes must have been comically wide.

"Oh god. What the hell was I thinking?"

Reno's smile widened until he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"You're tougher than you look, Fitz. Never thought you'd be one to pull a gun on someone and look good while doin' it. Jerkface nearly pissed himself."

"Ugh, don't remind me," I groaned. "I'm still shaking like a leaf."

"'Oops. Missed'," he mimicked, then sniggered with delight. "Damn, girl! Where'd all that come from? Ya sneaky badass. Tho' next time ya might wanna be quicker about gettin' to the part where you tell the bad guys to let us go. Just sayin'."

"Reno–"

"Hey, you're out of a job now, right? Maybe you should join the Turks. You'd get to pull shit like that all the time, yo."

"Reno! Shut. Up."

The shakiness of my voice ruined the ring of authority I was aiming for. He laughed, and strangely enough, I didn't mind. It was a relieved, wholehearted laugh; a pleasant sound, and much too rare. Before I knew it, I had joined in with an unsteady giggle of my own.

Chapter Text

After maybe five minutes, which Reno mostly spent on the phone receiving reports and giving instructions, a team of Shinra soldiers arrived. Considering his irritable mood, I half-expected the Turk to grace them with an earful of obscenities upon arrival, but he just knocked back the healing potion they offered, then ordered half of them to accompany us and sent the other half to aid his colleague.

Gone was the cocky swagger, the lazy slouch and the bored expression. Though his demeanor was still a far cry from the military discipline exhibited by our escort, the Turk now moved with a measured control, reminiscent of a prowling cat. His eyes were steely and alert, and he tapped the metal rod on his shoulder with an ease that implied seasoned skill with the weapon.

Such a smooth transition from laid-back wisecracker to hardened professional. I had seen it before, but it still startled me. It was easy to forget how quickly Reno could deliver violence.

Not two minutes after we set out for a safer location, I got another glimpse of his brutal side. We ran into a pair of Orca soldiers, and once again I found myself shoved aside while the others sprung into action. The mercenaries were taken by surprise. One of them was gunned down by the Shinra soldiers before she had a chance to lift her own weapon. The Turk handled the other one. Reno moved so quickly that I couldn't register the hits with my eyes, but I definitely heard the wet crunch of the last one. The Orca man collapsed right before me, the side of his head a pulpy mess.

During the previous attack, I had been too overwhelmed by disbelief and adrenaline to comprehend the carnage, but I was no longer that lucky. I stared at the bloody remains of the man's smashed skull, frozen to the spot. That repulsive wet sound kept playing again and again in my mind, blocking out the voices around me. I was seconds away from losing my dinner when Reno's wrinkled shirt blocked the nauseating sight.

"Don't look, baby. C'mon, let's go."

A spattering of red stained the white fabric; a bloody memento of his ill-treatment at the hands of Orca. His chest was heaving with a little more force than usual, but as my eyes wandered upward I noticed that otherwise the man seemed unperturbed, as if battering people to death was something he did every day. The indifference in his eyes was chilling. I had to look away.

"We can't stay here. Let's move, yo."

There was urgency in his voice, but it didn't strike me as worry. Upon a second glance I realized my first impression of the Turk's reaction hadn't been completely correct, but the gleam of excitement I spied in his eyes didn't make me feel any better. Yet I didn't pull away when he ushered me into motion with a firm hand on my lower back.

As Reno led me toward a safer location, he filled me in on the situation.

"They just showed up without warning, in that room we tested your suit, of all places. They seemed to be movin' with a plan before they ran into us, but now they've regrouped and are searchin' the floors. We're doin' our best to slow 'em down, but they're packin' some serious firepower."

"How is this possible?" I whispered.

"I was hopin' you'd tell me, Doc. We're in the blind, here. We dunno how they got here or what they want. 'Cept you, apparently."

An unpleasant mix of apprehension and guilt fluttered in my gut. My arms wrapped around my waist on their own volition, as if to shield me from the notion.

"I can't think why they'd want me so badly."

A sardonic smirk played on the man's lips. "Lover man wants ya back?"

I shook my head, trying to ignore the deep sting of sorrow at Reno's words.

"If he did, he'd try to reason with me, not attempt a bloody kidnapping by force. No, they have something else in mind."

"Well, if ya think of anythin', lemme know, alright?"

I nodded absently, already chewing on my bottom lip in silent deliberation.

The existence of a world that was remarkably similar, yet so different from Earth, not to mention the unlikely event of me showing up on it – it was far too incredible to be a stroke of luck. And now others had followed? Fourteen years later, they had managed to discover and reconstruct the unplanned and undocumented conditions that brought me here? This couldn't be a coincidence. There was something at work here.

Why would they show up here? Why now? Why had I shown up here, for that matter? The memories of my arrival were so fuzzy, a jumbled chaos of pain and strange, disjointed images. Without warning, one of them jumped out from some half-forgotten recess of my memory and claimed my attention.

"Reno, what is Jenova?"

The redhead shot me a sideways glance.

"Huh? What's that got to do with anythin'?"

"It was the first thing I saw when I woke up here. The word 'Jenova' written on some kind of door."

J-E-N-O-V-A, engraved letters bathed in an eerie light. How could I have forgotten that? No wonder the word had seemed so familiar.

Reno shrugged. "It's somethin' Hojo's been workin' on, so who knows. The freak's good at keepin' secrets, yo."

His reply wasn't quite disinterested enough to be completely convincing, but I let it go as something much more plausible occurred to me. They had been moving with a plan, Reno had said, after showing up in the testing area where I had been just hours before.

"The suit," I exclaimed. "They're tracking my suit!"

This time, the Turk snapped his head around to fully face me.

"They can do that?"

"There's a tracking signal, for emergencies."

Reno narrowed his eyes.

"And somehow it didn't cross your mind to mention it 'til now?"

It had been a long time since he had looked at me with such a cold look on his face.

"I-I didn't think it mattered!" I stammered, startled by his reaction. "Who would track me here? I had no idea it could lead to anything like this! I... I have no idea how it's even possible!"

I gradually came to a full stop while I tried to convince him of my innocence. Still in the process of recovering from the gruesome sight a few minutes ago, the fright was enough to knock me onto the path toward hysteria. Reno's eyes softened a fraction and he touched my elbow to stop me.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever. Keep your shit together, Fitz. This ain't the time to lose your head." He glanced around. "C'mon, we gotta keep movin'."

I kept my mouth shut after that, mentally berating myself as we navigated the corridors of Shinra HQ. Not about neglecting to mention the suit's tracking system, but for being such a useless bundle of nerves. I had survived earthquakes and other disasters, aided with evacuations of buildings and towns; hell, even faced the department board for yearly finance reviews at Cobalt Industries. I knew how to "keep my shit together". The jittery pushover I had become in this place wasn't me.

Movement caught my eye and I looked down to see several small, squat robots rush past. They reminded me of red metal spiders skittering around. Fan-fricking-tastic. That was just what I needed right now.

For fuck's sake, Tess, find your damned backbone already!

I shuddered and decided – since none of the others paid the mechanical critters any mind – to keep my eyes forward and ignore the little buggers as best as I could.

A few more corridors and several flights of stairs later, Reno brought us to what looked like a spacious conference room for a dozen people or so, situated on floor sixty-six if the large numbers on each side of the door were to be believed.

Reeve was already inside, waiting for us. While Reno instructed the soldiers to take up positions outside, the executive came up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, peering into my face. Lines of concern appeared between his eyebrows; I guess my appearance was a good match for how I felt on the inside.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I assured him, conjuring up a faint smile. "Just a little shaken up."

"She's tougher than she looks," Reno quipped with a wide grin as he approached us, adjusting a headset over one ear. "You should've seen our lil' Fitz face off with Jerkface. Epic, yo."

I had to admit his delight offered a smidgen of happiness in the tumult that had centered on me without warning. He seemed so genuinely pleased. Besides, I was grateful for the reminder that maybe my spine hadn't fully degenerated into a pile of wet socks after all.

"Jerkface?" Reeve echoed, taken by surprise. "You mean..."

He turned his gaze to me. I nodded.

"It's James, and Orca. The Gateway is operational."

Reeve's eyes widened, followed by a deepening of the frown as Reno came to a halt next to us. The redhead looked from one to the other while balancing on the balls of his feet, his hands deep in his pockets. Just like that, the Turk had shed the professional attitude and slipped back into his lackadaisical manner.

No, perhaps "shed" was the wrong word. "Concealed" might have been a better choice.

"Guess ya wanna know what's up, eh, Reeve?"

"Considering I'm the only one of the board liable to show up right now, there's no point in waiting."

After all the excitement, my legs felt unsteady. I was tired, too, but proper rest was out of the question. I had to make do with a seat by the large table as Reno began his status report.

"The stairwells and floors themselves are full of saucer bots, but they can't do much except slow the bastards down. Elena's in the field, workin' with security and infantry. Trackin' enemy movement, pickin' 'em off if she gets a chance, the usual." Reno grimaced. "Wish Tseng or Rude was here, tho'. It's a bit intense for a rookie."

Saucer bots? Judging by the name, those could be the little red mecha-spiders scurrying about. I suppressed another shudder.

"Do you think she'll be able to handle it?" Reeve wondered.

"She may be new and too antsy, but Tseng wouldn't have picked her without reason," the Turk reasoned with a shrug. "Right, so, we've got the place locked down. Elevators are offline and we've got whatever infantry I managed to scrounge up posted at floors fifty-six and sixty, along with the bigger bots. These guys may be tough, but they ain't gettin' past that."

I vehemently hoped the bigger robots had a different design. The idea of giant mechanical arachnids was enough to make me lose sleep for weeks.

Reeve nodded and crossed his arms over his chest while he digested the news.

"Okay, so they're contained. Anything else?"

"Got a chopper ready to go, in case we need a quick exit."

"Good. What's the next step? Move in and round them up?"

Reno pursed his lips and scratched behind his ear, gazing up toward one corner of the room in thought.

"Yeah, well, that part ain't easy," he admitted. "Trouble is, they've got the same kinda immunity to materia as the Doc here, which rules out most of our usual tricks. We've got too few on hand for a proper sweep and clear, too. Heidegger took most of the military to Junon."

Now that was interesting. I had wondered if that was the case, and having it confirmed made me even more curious about the nature of Gaia's magic. The information would have to be filed away for later, though. This was hardly the time to ponder such mysteries.

"What, then?" Reeve asked, exasperation slipping into his tone. "We can't just sit and wait."

To my surprise, the Turk moved his eyes onto me.

"Well, there's somethin' I've been toyin' with in my head. Fitz says they're trackin' her suit, so I'm thinkin' we can use that. Move Sparky away from the workshop to a nice spot for an ambush."

My eyes widened, then narrowed in thought as I considered his suggestion. "I thought you said they weren't heading for the suit anymore?"

"Yeah, but seems like they're lookin' for you now, so movin' the suit oughta get their attention. Who else would move it, right?"

I nodded slowly. It seemed reasonable that I might decide to use it to protect myself in a situation like this, too.

"Well, then," Reeve said with a wolfish grin that might have looked more at home on Reno's face. "Sounds like we have a plan."

A brief squabble followed, over who would go where and do what. Reno was in charge of the operation, so his presence was a given. However, Reeve refused to let anyone into his den of technology unsupervised, while the Turk was unwilling to leave my protection to a handful of infantry. In the end, the three of us entered Reeve's workshop together.

It had never occurred to me to ask where the tracker was located, so we proceeded to load the whole suit onto the trolley we had used only hours earlier. Uncertain of whether or not the tracker could relay such information, I turned on the power to the main unit, just in case. Once everything was ready, Reno pushed the cart toward the soldiers waiting by the door.

"So, you've reached your suit, Therèse."

We all stiffened at the sound of James' voice, tinny through the suit's speakers, and exchanged alarmed glances. There was nothing preternatural about his assumption that I would be the one moving my own gear, but to be addressed without warning was still unnerving.

I gestured to the others to be silent and squatted down by the microphone embedded at the top of the chest plate.

"James," I greeted stiffly. "You're alive."

"Fortunately your new friends aren't very efficient."

The condescending words didn't match his tone. I knew the man only used that deliberate, neutral tone when he was thoroughly upset. I hoped that was a good sign.

"You're tracking the suit," I stated.

"Clever girl. Then you also know we will find you, in the end."

That confirmed my suspicions, at least. Time to see if I could get him to prove – or disprove – a few more assumptions.

"What do you want? The suit? Just take it and leave. I'll make sure no one tries to stop you."

"I'm not here for the suit. I'm here for you."

That anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach returned, stronger than before. I wet my lips and took a deep breath before replying.

"It's over, James."

I was relieved and a little surprised that I managed to say it in such a firm tone. Perhaps that's why James hesitated for a few seconds before speaking again.

"I... I know. That's not why I'm asking you to come with me. I need your professional skills."

"Your recruiting technique needs work."

A soft snort sounded from Reno's direction, although not loud enough to be heard through the microphone.

"Haven't lost that sharp tongue of yours, I see. No matter. Sooner or later, you will come with me."

Had the man always been this arrogant? This wasn't the confident pride I remembered, nor was it reminiscent of Reno's playful smugness. No, this was a stony disdain, devoid of emotion. If anything, it reminded me of Hojo, and I found my irritation eclipsed by an undefined dread.

"Why? Why do are you doing this?"

"Come with me. I'll explain everything when we're back on Earth."

I scoffed at the suggestion. "Do you really think I would even consider going anywhere before I know what this is about?"

"You haven't changed, Tess. Very well."

He sighed deeply and the line was silent for several seconds.

"It took years to repair the Gateway, and once it was done, there were problems. The teleport jumps were technically successful, but we were unable to control the target destination."

That sounded familiar. There had been issues like that in the early stages of the prototype, too.

"I had a team go through every single piece of the system. Do you know what we discovered?" A sharp bark of laughter. "That so-called coolant that Victor used for the core, that so miraculously solved the problems with an unstable teleport?"

I remembered. A moment of technological triumph – the details of which I knew nothing of, as it was not my area of expertise. I also recalled James' skepticism at the time, which I had chalked down to wounded professional pride.

"It was no goddamn coolant," his voice continued. "It was the biggest secret of them all, the source of the Gateway's power. It was organic! And the genetic material we found in it? Alien."

My mouth fell open. I had not expected James, the levelheaded engineer, to spew wild ideas that seemed a better fit for a low-budget sci-fi movie.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Victor knew about it all along. You see, with Orca's help, I dug deeper into our old pal's work. The Gateway project started as Vic's research on top-secret alien remains in Cobalt Industries' possession. Bet he never told you that, did he?"

"This is crazy," I scoffed. "Are you saying some kind of alien controls the Gateway? It makes no damn sense!"

James chuckled; there was a disturbing, high-pitched note that sounded completely wrong for the man.

"Oh, believe me, it's one-hundred percent true. You know, I bet the old man had the exact same idea as I did. He probably drank that damn 'coolant' of his. It would explain how he was able to come up with all those brilliant ideas, not to mention how he was able to guide the Gateway with oh so delicate precision."

"You're making this up."

Even I could hear how uncertain I sounded. As I spoke, as I listened, my brain had been busy connecting the pieces and I had begun to realize that they fit together all too well. So many conversations with Victor took on a whole new, foreboding undertone.

"It's the truth," James said firmly. "Come with me and you'll see for yourself."

My mind returned to the present, to digest what James had just said. The full implications of one of the sentences finally sank in.

"Wait... What do you mean, 'exact same idea'? What idea?"

He was silent a while.

"I hacked into Vic's files and read his notes. It was the break we desperately needed. It became clear that he'd gained the ability to guide the Gateway. He had... altered himself."

The way he said the word "altered" chilled my bones.

"Altered? How?"

"I'm not sure. That's why I need you." He paused. "By the time I discovered this, Vic was long gone and his ability with him, but I thought that if I altered myself..."

Beside me Reno tensed, and I felt my own pulse quickening. My apprehension was transforming into full-fledged dismay.

"Jamie, what did you do?" I breathed, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"What I had to," he said in that infuriatingly impassive tone of voice.

"What did you do!" I repeated, louder.

The pause stretched on. I held my breath, staring at the speakers as I waited. We all held our breaths.

"Victor... He'd infected himself with the alien organism he found. So I... I infected myself."

"What?!"

"I needed the ability!" he cried. "It was the only way, and it worked. Suddenly, I knew what to do. It was as if I'd discovered a connection."

"A connection to what?"

James ignored me. His words gushed out like water from a broken dam.

"But now, something's gone wrong. The connection is getting weaker. My control is slipping. Maybe it's exposure to the energy fields when traversing the Gateway, maybe it's the infection getting worse. I don't know. I don't know!"

His distress was genuine, clearly audible even through the imperfect medium of the speakers. I stared down at the floor, clutching the edge of the trolley, trying to process all of this... this lunacy. Victor, involved in some kind of top secret research on aliens, of all things? This alien matter somehow controlling the Gateway? James infected by the same alien organism, by his own doing? Christ. Just when I thought the universe couldn't get any crazier.

"I need you to come with me," James pleaded. "You have to help me. You knew Vic better than anyone, you're the one he told all his theories. You know the Gateway and how it affects people. You can fix this, I know you can!"

So this was his plan. To force me into servitude as his savior-to-be, to somehow change the fate the damned fool had brought on himself in an act of utter idiocy.

Yet the desperation in his voice tugged at my heartstrings, bringing back some of what I had once felt for him. As much as James had changed since I last saw him, I knew him well enough to tell the fear was real. What if he was right? What if there was a chance I could help him? If so, wouldn't it be the humane choice to at least try?

"You will come with me." It was a demand now. A threat. A reminder of what he had done to me, to Vic, to our team and the whole damned world. "Sooner or later, you will come with me. If not this time, then we will be back. This I promise you. We will keep coming back until we find–"

Abrupt silence descended when I flipped the control panel open and cut communications, filled only by the sound of my ragged breaths.

Chapter Text

I paced in fitful circles, pushing my fingers through my messy hair until I clutched the back of my head. I had the sinking feeling there was more truth to James' crazy story than I wanted to believe.

"Oh, Victor, you paranoid old fool," I whispered. "What did you do?"

He had hidden technical details from James. It should have come as no surprise that he would hide biological secrets from me.

Had Victor known about this world? Had he sent me here on purpose? If so, he must have thought it a better fate than ending up in Orca's clutches. Victor may have kept things from me, but I refused to believe our friendship had been a lie.

The more I entertained the possibility, the more convinced I became that the physicist had possessed some knowledge about the existence of this world. Thinking back, with the information James had revealed, Victor's theories about parallel worlds now seemed like a subtle preparation for things to come.

As for this alien entity and its mystical powers... I didn't know what to make of it. Did it really exist? If so, then why had I, the goddamned biologist on the team, not been informed about it?

"Reeve, on the way here Fitz asked 'bout Jenova."

I glanced their way in time to see Reeve exchange an alarmed look with the Turk, before they both turned their faces toward me. I stopped dead in my tracks. So, Reno knew something about it after all. They both did.

"First James and Victor, now you," I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. "Is everyone keeping secrets from me?"

"Sorry, babe. Need to know and all that," Reno said with a shrug, then turned to Reeve. "And now, I think she needs to know, yo."

The Turk continued speaking, but I was no longer listening. All the secrets, all the lies, all the deceptions; yet one rose far above the rest. Fourteen years. James had abandoned me here for fourteen years. And now, he had only come looking for me because he had decided I might be of some use to him. So much for love and happily ever after. I glared ahead, willing away the lump in my throat and the burn in my eyes. I would not cry over a deceitful bastard like James.

"Hey."

Reno's low voice snapped me back to the present, and I realized I had turned my back to the others. He was standing behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders.

I had seen him attack people with those hands less than an hour ago. I had seen him kill, then shrug it off without a second thought. How could his hands be so gentle and comforting on my shoulders? How could it feel so good to be touched by them? The Turk was a killer, and by all accounts another deceitful bastard. I should have recoiled from his touch, refused to have anything to do with him. Instead I caught myself wishing he would hold me.

"You okay?"

I didn't reply, but my shaky snort was answer enough.

"Yeah, all right, dumb question," Reno sighed. "Look, this Jenova thing? It's huge, and it's dangerous. It's Shinra's biggest secret. Not even the Turks are s'posed to know as much as I do, but, well... You know me. Always stickin' my nose where it don't belong."

He laughed softly. His hands stroked up and down, as warm and soothing as his quiet chuckle.

"You've done classified work, right?" he continued. "You know the deal. I bet that was the case for your Victor, too. Not all of us are out to stab ya in the back, 'kay?"

So bloody perceptive. If only I had his ability to read people and see through facades. If only I could shrug things off like he did.

"I know you just got a huge ol' bucket of crap dumped on ya, what with the secrets, the weird-ass time skip, the bad guys takin' over your world... Shit, I can't even wrap my head 'round it all, but it's gotta be pretty damn rough. You can't get stuck in it, tho'. Right now, we need a cool head on ya. Do whatcha gotta do first, deal with it later. You get me?"

Maybe Reno was just saying what I wanted to hear. I knew lies flowed past his lips with the same ease as bad jokes and flirty compliments. That didn't change the fact that he had a point. A breakdown would help no one, least of all me.

I took a few deep breaths, pushing the hurt further back with each exhale, then straightened my back and nodded. Reno stepped back so I could turn around. He smiled, friendly and encouraging, and I couldn't tell if it made the ache in my chest better or worse.

"That's the spirit, Fitz. Now c'mon, let's figure out what to do 'bout Jerkface and his jackasses, yo."

Reeve cleared his throat.

"What do you know about Jenova?" he asked me.

"Not much," I admitted. "Just what was in the reports, really, but it's the first thing I saw when I got here. The word Jenova on a metal door. I was wondering if there's a connection." I paused, eyeing each of them in turn. "And judging by the way you two are acting, I think the answer is 'yes'."

The executive glanced over at Reno again, then straightened up with a sigh. He pressed his fingers together and touched them to his lips, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts before speaking.

"It's the name of Hojo's pet project," he began.

"Which also happens to be an evil alien that fell from the sky and when injected into people turns 'em into creepy evil dudes with superpowers and freaky eyes. Coincidence? I don't frickin' think so."

So Reno had noticed the eyes too? It hadn't just been my imagination. I suppressed a sudden shiver. Then my brain caught up with the rest he had said. With a sharp inhale, I began to race through recent memory for every detail I had read about Jenova.

Meanwhile, Reeve had closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"Reno... "

"What?"

"A little discretion, perhaps?"

"Oh c'mon, we need to know what we're dealin' with here. Whatcha gonna do, ask Hojo? He'll just say some horseshit about us poor bastards not understandin' the beauty of science and then go do somethin' fucked up beyond belief. I dunno 'bout you, but I'd rather deal with a sane scientist."

He pointed at me as he said the last bit.

"Well, the sane scientist wants to know just what the hell you two know about all this, right now," I said, keeping my tone even and deliberate, though with some difficulty.

"'Kay, short version," Reno said, not bothering to wait for Reeve's reaction. "So, you know that big chunk of rock in the sky that's comin' right at us? That's all thanks to Sephiroth, a former SOLDIER First Class badass who went insane, murdered a bunch of people and then got himself killed. Or so we thought, 'til he stabbed the old Prez in the back a few weeks ago. Like, literally."

I stared at him.

"Uh..."

"Just shut up and listen for a bit, all right? So, the Turks have been huntin' him since. Imagine our surprise when we find fuckin' AVALANCHE of all people doin' the same thing. Now, Reeve here has gotten cozy with 'em and has picked up all sorts of interestin' intel."

Reeve groaned, throwing his hands in the air.

"Discretion?" he asked pointedly.

Reno rolled his eyes.

"Oh c'mon, man, your cover's already blown. What's tellin' Fitz 'bout it gonna change? Anyway, these AVALANCHE peeps figure out Sephiroth had fuckin' Jenova cells injected in him. As in, Jenova the evil alien thingy? Turns out the dude went crazy 'cause it talks to him or somethin'."

"Controls him, to be more exact," Reeve corrected, then sighed. "I must admit the similarities here are disturbing."

"So," I mused out loud, attempting to make sense of the second crazy tale relayed to me within less than half an hour, "these Jenova cells made Sephiroth into some kind of a super human, is that correct?"

"Yes, I guess that's the gist of it," Reeve confirmed.

"And what you saw of James," I asked Reno, "he showed the same signs as Sephiroth?"

"Well, Sephiroth and a few other SOLDIERs, yeah. The weird-ass eyes, the aging thing, the instant mood swings..."

"So assuming what James said is true, and that these alien entities are similar..."

I froze as I reached the conclusion.

"Oh shit," I breathed. "Shit, this is bad."

"What?" Reno demanded, taken aback by my reaction.

"Orca super soldiers," I said. "They can make their own!"

"Now, let's not be hasty. We didn't see any of those today, and it's not like you can create super soldiers just like that," Reeve countered.

"Besides, the assholes just caught us by surprise today," Reno added. "Shinra's still got SOLDIERs, even if they're mostly third class and in fuckin' Junon right now. If the full military was here, these Orca shitheads would've been tossed outta the nearest window within ten minutes, yo."

I shook my head, and held up my hands to stop them.

"It's not that simple. Think about it, Reno! A month here is over a year back on Earth. Orca could launch attack after attack, retreating back to Earth to regroup and recover while only minutes pass on Gaia."

That caught their attention. The Turk's eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed, while the executive looked mildly astonished.

"It would be a constant, never-ending assault," I pressed the point. "If they can control the Gateway to home in on my suit, they could show up anywhere now that they know what's beyond the jump. Shinra can't hold something like that back forever!"

"Oh, fuck everything!" Reno shot to his feet to pace around the room. "Sephiroth and his fuckin' Meteor wasn't enough, huh? Now we gotta deal with this second asshat and a goddamn army inside our own damn HQ?"

Reeve kept a significantly cooler head than the incensed Turk.

"Rufus needs to know, of course, but I'm reluctant to involve the rest of the board until we know more," he reflected out loud. "Hojo is too unpredictable and has his own agenda. We know Heidegger and Scarlet are planning something, too, and I have the unpleasant feeling they might just use a threat like this to further their own schemes, whatever they are."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't trust Beardy McFatso and Superbitch if my life depended on it," Reno announced sullenly, still stomping back and forth. "Especially if my life depended on it."

He came to an abrupt halt and rubbed his eyes with a tired sigh.

"That leaves Palmer, but that moron's worse than useless. They're all in Junon anyway, preparin' for that publicity stunt the Prez cooked up. Guess we're on our own, yo."

While the guys discussed the Shinra side, I had analyzed the other half of the equation and reached the only sensible conclusion.

"I have to go back," I blurted out. There was a slightly bewildered note in my voice, as if I myself couldn't quite believe what I was saying. "I have to go back to Earth."

Both men went perfectly still and turned their heads to stare at me. Reno was the first to speak.

"What the flyin' fuck, Fitz?"

"The Gateway has to be destroyed," I explained with more calm than I felt. "That's the only way we can be sure Orca won't attack. I know what to do. Victor and I had a solid plan. It would have worked if we'd had a little more time. So, I'll pretend to go along with James' demands, go back with him and finish what we started."

The Turk was shaking his head long before I had finished speaking.

"Oh no, no no no. Look, I know you miss home and everythin', but–"

"This isn't about me being homesick!" I snapped. "It's the only way to solve this problem!"

"Didn't you see those guys?" Reno shouted. "Y'know, the big, mean soldier dudes happily beatin' the crap outta me? They'll kill ya the second you try somethin'!"

"Reno," Reeve interjected, making the redhead pause. "Tess has a point."

He was watching me with a serious look on his face, and I could tell he had come to the same conclusion as I had. Reeve already knew I was right. The Turk, however, was a different matter.

"What?! You're not actually gonna go along with this, are ya?"

"We need a solution and she has a valid suggestion. Is there a problem?"

"Fuck yes, there's a problem!" Reno exploded. "She'll get herself killed! Reeve, you know as well as I do this double agent shit is a job for a Turk, not an untrained civilian!"

The executive fixed Reno with somber eyes, which seemed to daunt him. The look certainly sent a tingle of fear down my spine, for it told me Reeve thought Reno was right, too.

"Reno," he said, his tone firm, "we don't have the luxury of a choice."

The Turk threw his hands up in the air and took a few steps away from us.

"This is such bullshit," he snarled, although he seemed to have lost most of his steam.

"Didn't you offer me a job as a Turk half an hour ago?" I asked with faked lightness, in a feeble attempt at humor.

Reno snorted and shook his head again, planting his hands on his narrow hips.

"C'mon, Fitz, this is serious."

"I know," I sighed. "That's why I need to do it."

He turned around to face us again and tilted his head slightly back and to the side, observing me with eyes narrowed in thought, his jaw tight.

"They're gonna know you're up to somethin'."

"Maybe that's for the best," I said with forced smile. "I'm not very good at hiding secrets."

"Yeah," he agreed, the ghost of a smirk passing over his face. "You're too fuckin' honest, babe. Which, y'know, just makes it an even dumber idea. If you can't lie to me, then how the fuck are ya supposed to fool a whole band of hard-ass pro mercs, includin' your goddamn ex-fiancé?"

"You're right, James is unlikely to trust me and Orca certainly won't," I admitted. "But someone has to stop them. I know the Gateway project, I know the facility, and, most importantly, James has already made it clear he wants me to go back with him. I'm the only one who has a shot at this."

Weapons, Meteors – I could do nothing against the threats Gaia was facing, but back on Earth I could make a difference. The thought was exhilarating. Terrifying.

"Keep in mind that Elena has seen Tess, as have the troops," Reeve added. "After an attack like this, the board will have questions. You think Heidegger or Scarlet will settle for asking nicely?"

My eyes went wide as I understood the unspoken implications. That hadn't even occurred to me. My mouth went dry.

Reno stared at the floor while he considered our arguments. His slender fingers raked through the red mop on top of his head and settled at the nape of his neck, wrapping around the base of the ponytail.

"Fuck!" he finally exclaimed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

A gleeful melody rang out, sounding awfully out of place. Reno pulled out his phone and lifted it to his ear, offering a curt "yeah?" to the caller. After a brief monologue from the person on the other end, he snapped it shut again and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It didn't look like good news to me.

"Call Jerkface, Fitz. Tell him that if he backs off, you're gonna go with him. But," he continued quickly before I had a chance to comply, fixing me with a stern stare and a pointed finger, "before I let ya go anywhere, we're all gonna go through this plan of yours together. I wanna know every single detail."

I nodded, then opened the control panel. My finger hovered over the communications button while I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and pressed it down.

"James," I called. "James, come in."

"Therèse," came the tinny reply after a few seconds. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I could hear the smugness, as if he knew what I was going to say. Then again, it was a fair assumption to make. Why else would I contact him?

"I've changed my mind. I'll come with you."

My voice sounded odd to my ears. My throat was too dry.

"That was awfully quick. Have we made too much of a mess over here? Are your new friends throwing you to the wolves to save themselves?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Reno's face darken.

"I don't belong here," I said. "I want to go home. If that means helping you, then so be it."

It wasn't a lie, exactly. I desperately longed for home. I just wasn't sure I would find it on the other side of the jump anymore.

James chuckled. "Very well. You know where we are. Be here within fifteen minutes or we launch another attack. Come alone and bring the suit. You'll need it."

The line went dead.

There was no time to worry about propriety. I hastily stripped down to my underwear and pulled on the undersuit, while my companions arranged the external parts of the protective gear. As Reeve and Reno helped me into the suit, I did my best to recall and explain a plan that had been devised in a stressful rush a year ago – or fourteen years ago, depending on your planet. The time difference troubled not only myself, but the Turk as well.

"A lot of this depends on everythin' bein' exactly as it was when you left. That's fourteen years ago, accordin' to Jerkface. How d'ya know it'll still be the same?"

"I don't," I replied. "But if that's the case, I'll just have to think of something else, won't I?"

Reno groaned.

"The more I hear of this plan, the more it sucks, yo."

"Got a better one?" I snapped, pressing the button to turn Sparky on.

He didn't have a comeback to that. His lips clamped together, forming a thin line, and he abruptly dropped down to pick up my helmet. He remained squatted down for a few seconds, looking at the helmet in his hands. I could see a small crease between the eyebrows of his reflection in the golden visor. Reno kept his eyes on it while he rose and turned. As quickly as it had appeared, the sour scowl had mellowed into something more contemplative.

"Y'know, when I found ya again in that ward, your eyes were just... dead. There was nothin' in 'em. I couldn't get 'em outta my mind. I mean, what kinda fucked-up universe would let me get away with all the bad shit I've done, while leavin' someone like you to just waste away, broken and forgotten? You hadn't done anythin' wrong. You'd just... shown up."

He sounded resigned, maybe even dejected. I eyed him uncertainly, taken aback by the sudden mood change.

Reno turned his gaze to me and watched me for a few moments with that same odd look on his face. A cynical, lopsided smile tugged at his lips.

"Now that fire of yours is back, brighter than ever, and I'm about to throw ya to a bunch of real mean sons of bitches. Guess this fuckin' universe is worse than I thought."

His words set my stomach aflutter, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

"You're not throwing me at anything," I said. "I'm the one who suggested it."

"You're dead set on doin' this, ain't ya?"

"I have to. It's the only option."

"All right then," he sighed.

Reno reached up and brushed some wayward strands out of my face. His fingers were warm and made my skin tingle.

"You got brains, Doc. Use 'em. Don't do anythin' stupid, 'kay?"

This was his goodbye, I realized with jolt of profound sadness and vague regrets. Neither of us had said it out loud, but we both knew this would be a one-way trip.

"You mean, don't do anything you would do," I joked weakly.

His subdued laughter was such a bittersweet sound.

"Yeah, that's right. Don't do anythin' I would do, yo."

His hand trailed down to cup my face and a thumb caressed my cheek. I stared back up at him, speechless in the face of such an intimate gesture. His gaze burned into mine with an intensity that made me uneasy, but I couldn't look away. When had they become so alluring, those eyes with the color of exotic seas?

Reno smiled and let his hand fall.

"Don't look at me like that, FitzEvan. Not now."

I blinked several times, finally emerging from my daze, and dove into the helmet he handed me to hide my bewilderment. My cheek felt hot in the wake of his touch.

The wounds may still have been too raw for me to even consider any sort of new romantic entanglement, but that didn't mean I was immune to the fiery Turk's charms. Reno was an untamed, reckless mess of a man, but he hid a heart under the nonchalant exterior. It may not have been a particularly good heart by most people's standards, but it was a loyal one. Who knew? In another time and place, there might have been a chance for something more between us.

An ill-advised fling, most likely. A wry, fond smile tugged at my lips as I watched him saunter across the room as if he owned it. Then with a deep, slow sigh, I locked the wistful and ultimately pointless speculation inside a hidden nook of my heart.

Reeve appeared before me, looking a little awkward. He helped me click the helmet fully into place.

"Good luck," he said with a small, melancholy smile. "I'm afraid you're going to need it."

"Tell me about it," I replied, my expression mirroring his.

"Be careful, Tess. Look after Sparky, okay?"

He took my hand in a formal goodbye, but only a moment later the man wrapped his other arm around my shoulders in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice gruff.

I hugged him back, touched by his open display of emotion.

"I know," I whispered.

He clapped my shoulder in encouragement, then released me and took a step back, giving me a sharp nod. I returned the gesture, then hesitantly looked over toward the exit. This was it. All that remained was finding James and letting him take me back with him.

Everything had happened so fast. I had been too preoccupied to stop and think about what I was doing. Now, the prospect of going back was absolutely terrifying. Inside the suit, my hands felt clammy and cold.

Reno had stopped by the door and when he saw me look his way, he urged me on with a flick of the head, the trademark smirk once again in place.

"Let's go find the bastards, eh?"

I wasn't familiar with the route, but the Turk knew exactly where to take me. We passed a group of Shinra infantry and a few saucer bots scampering by, then all too soon we were walking down a corridor I recognized. Once the entrance to the testing chamber was within view, we slowed to a halt.

When I glanced over at Reno, he was watching me with that odd look on his face again. It was only visible for a brief moment before he must have realized what he was doing. A smirk slid into place, concealing all other emotion.

"Kick 'em in the mecha-balls for me, will ya?"

I wanted to say something, but found I had neither the words nor the voice. Instead I gave Reno a thumbs-up, glad the support of the suit would hide any trembling. He, too, looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he nodded and left quietly. I was alone.

I took a deep breath, then turned around to face the door and what waited beyond.

Chapter Text

The jump was like a dream. During travel, it was all perfectly realistic and logical. The moment I arrived, though, the experience became little more than flashes of disjointed impressions among swirling colors. Try as I might, I couldn't recall any details. I couldn't even estimate how much time had passed.

Stepping out of the chamber filled me with the strangest disoriented feeling of déjà vu, and not all of it was due to the lingering effects of the jump itself. I was back home, but at the same time I wasn't. The familiar gray concrete of the facility was juxtaposed with the disconcerting presence of Orca's insignia and soldiers. Everything was faded and worn, as if I had traveled into an old photograph. Even the people appeared weary and colorless.

The only exception was the device for interplanetary travel itself. Awestruck, I beheld the new and improved Gateway in all its glory. This version was an enormous construct of smooth gleaming metal, adorned by electromagnetic coils and ensnared in a complicated mesh of cables – a far cry from the modest one-person apparatus I had traveled through the first time. I couldn't even guess at the energy levels needed to power something of this size. More than ever, I was convinced that sooner or later Orca would set their greedy eyes on Gaia's Mako reactors.

I was thoroughly daunted by my first impression, but a closer look made me realize that much of the system was the same, only on a greater scale. The jump chamber was still the same domed shape as before, but now there was enough room for more than a dozen people inside. The antechamber was also much larger, and the exit was protected by a solid security door, hinting at the facility's new military management.

"Give me your helmet," James commanded, interrupting my inspection.

"Why?"

"You're in no position to question my orders, Therèse! The helmet. Now."

Orders, huh? My eyes narrowed, but I was well aware that I had little choice. Swallowing my indignation, I released the locking mechanism and handed it over.

While he examined Reeve's creation, my eyes wandered over the room once more, this time landing on the observation window near the door. I recognized one of the people monitoring us on the other side of the window: Anita Brandt, Victor's research assistant. The woman still kept her blonde hair gathered in a bun and her hazard suit, while visibly upgraded, was the forest green I remembered. She, too, looked older, although age hadn't diminished her beauty.

She also looked shocked. I guess she hadn't expected to find me alive after all the years that had passed, or maybe it was my unchanged appearance. Despite the evidence right before my eyes, it was still unbelievable. Fourteen years.

Unwittingly, James echoed my unspoken thought.

"I still can't believe it," he murmured. "It's really you."

He raised a hand and reached for my hair, but I took a purposeful step backwards before he could touch me. As expected, the proud man didn't take it well: his face hardened and the hand dropped. What surprised me, however, was the look on Anita's face as she stared first at James, then at me. Hurt, followed by open hostility.

James followed my gaze to the window and stiffened when he noticed Anita's presence. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I felt a something akin to physical pain in my chest when I realized what the silent communication implied.

It was ridiculous. Hadn't I already decided I wanted nothing to do with him? Hadn't I pulled the ring off of my finger and thrown it away myself?

It had been easy to convince myself of that on a different world, countless miles – or universes – from home. Now that I was home and James was right next to me, all it took was a look, or a familiar choice of words, and the good memories came flooding back with just as much intensity as the last hurtful ones. Despite the way we had parted, there were a lot more of the former.

James' emotionless voice pulled me out of my introspection.

"I can't let you keep this."

I whipped my head around in alarm, back to the stony face of my former fiancé.

"What? But I–"

"You'll be given a replacement. Let's not waste any time. I'll show you your quarters and then you will begin your work."

James marched out of the Gateway chamber, looking like a storm cloud, and so began a new kind of captivity. From the dizzying heights of Shinra's tower, I had descended to the depths of what was once our state-of-the-art underground research facility. Now it was little more than a crumbling bunker, ravaged by pillaging terrorists and earthquakes alike.

It was a crude, strictly rationed existence among the hardened men and women of Orca, and those few who remained of Cobalt's research staff. No showers – pure water was now a scarce resource in this part of the world. No coffee – I was told that the coffee plant had succumbed to the harsh environmental changes years ago. No meat, no vegetables, no fresh fruit. I craved Reno's cold pizza breakfasts after just one meal of canned and dried rations.

However, I didn't fully understand how much had changed until the day Anita acquiesced to let me see the surface with my own eyes. Where vast fields of corn and buckwheat had grown – stunted and suffering, but nonetheless alive – I saw nothing but a wasteland of dust and bone-dry, cracked soil.

"It's like this pretty much everywhere now," Anita said, her voice as lifeless as the scenery before us. "What's left of the human race lives in bunkers like this one. We're not sure what the population is these days. A few hundred thousand is a common guess, scattered around the globe."

I stared at the barren emptiness, unable to process it as reality.

"What happened?" I whispered.

"What we always knew would happen. Dust storms, electrical storms. Earthquakes. Good old human nature. But mostly, pandemics." She was quiet for a few moments. "We could have used you, you know."

"One person wouldn't have made a difference against..." I gestured weakly at the desolate scene before us.

"We needed every scientist we had to fight this," Anita insisted. "Instead you and Victor tried to destroy one of the few hopes we had left! What was wrong with you?"

I frowned, taken aback by the sudden attack.

"That was only because Orca–"

"Oh, save it! James told me everything. He knew what you two were planning all along! That's why he had to contact Orca! He had no other choice! If you hadn't been so bloody selfish, he would never have–"

She cut off abruptly, taking deep breaths to control the tears that already gleamed in her eyes.

"What? That's not–"

"And now you come crawling back when it's all too late!" she yelled, interrupting me again. "Why? Why couldn't you just stay buried wherever the hell you've been all these years!"

I was too flabbergasted to find the words, while Anita was too enraged to listen. She bolted out of the room and I was left feeling more isolated than ever, with my former workmate's caustic accusations repeating over and over in my head.

"You lied to her," I stated to James when he next came to the lab. I didn't need to explain who or what I meant.

"Anita is a firm believer in the greater good. She's stubborn and far too idealistic for her own good." He smirked. "Much like you."

Anita and I had gotten along well, once. Not friends, perhaps, but amiable coworkers. No one else from our team remained. I wondered if they had all died thinking Victor and I were the betrayers.

"Why the hell did you sell us out?" I snapped. "We could have made a difference. We could have saved lives!"

"Oh, come on," James scoffed. "You and Victor were fooled by childish dreams of a happy ending. There was no way we could have used the Gateway to find a new home for everyone in time."

"We've been through this! You know the plan was to buy more time with off-world colonies!"

"Get your head out of the clouds already! How were we supposed to find places to settle? What made you think they even existed? There was no proof! It was just Vic's goddamn gospel!"

"He was right, though," I insisted through gritted teeth. "He was right! You've seen it yourself!"

"There. Was. No. Proof! Back then, it was all just fantasies! A waste of time and resources we needed for the starships!"

My retort died on my lips. Half-forgotten discussions about the future came back to me, along with the tentative suggestions about looking into traditional space travel instead. At the time, Victor and I considered the idea unfeasible, and suspected my fiancé was blinded by the media-awarded fame and glory of the most ambitious engineering project humankind had ever undertaken.

Those starships were designed for only a few million people. Tickets had been outrageously expensive. God, I must have been just as blind as James not to see it coming.

"That's it, isn't it?" I said slowly. "You never believed in Victor's gateways. You didn't think we would succeed, so you handed us over to Orca in return for a place on a starship." My laughter rang bitter. "And look at you now. The self-made master of the Gateway."

James narrowed his eyes, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"So, obviously something went wrong with your plan, or you wouldn't be here. Was there a problem with the tech? Or was it the lack of materials?" A snort escaped me as one of my old arguments occurred to me. "It was food, wasn't it? There wasn't enough left for a voyage like that, not even with hibernation. You stabbed us all in the back for nothing."

I had found a sore spot, but my twisted satisfaction was short-lived. James shot up from his chair and grabbed my helmet in a crushing grip, towering over me and shaking with anger.

"Get off your high horse already!" he exploded. "You think you have all the right answers? You think you're so much better than me? Don't think I believe for one second that you worked your ass off for fucking humanity! Face it, Tess. You were in it to save your own skin, just like the rest of us!"

His eyes were inches from mine and I watched the pupils oscillate in that disturbing dance I had seen too many times already. The James I knew was an even-tempered man, completely devoid of aggression and violent tendencies. It was the first time I was truly, deeply afraid of him.

Some time later, I learned that one starship had, in fact, been completed – after which it was launched in a covert Orca operation, carrying Orca's command and their greatest financial and political supporters, along with most of the supplies intended for all the ships put together. Humanity at its finest. No wonder James was touchy about the subject.

It soon became evident that James' appearance was not due to the years alone. The alien substance had aggressively embedded itself within the molecular machinery of his cells. It was viral in its actions, using more and more of the host cells' internal mechanisms for its own purposes. This cellular invasion had initiated an ever intensifying autoimmune reaction; James' cells were attacking themselves in their attempt to fight the entrenched foreign matter. The visible aging was a symptom of their losing battle. His body was, for the lack of a better word, degrading.

I had never seen anything like it before on Earth, but I knew what it was. Its properties were identical to what I had read in Hojo's files. This was another one of Jenova's kind... Or was it? Its influence on the Gateway made it clear there was some kind of strange connection at work, strong enough to bring our two worlds together. Was it due to a single being, aware of its incarnations across parallel universes, or a whole species? If only I had been able to learn more about Gaia's Jenova before my return.

All I had been given to work with were James' cells, but the alien matter was too entangled with his own to be properly isolated and studied. I soon requested access to the original material he had injected into himself.

"There isn't any," was James' impassive reply. "It was lost."

"Lost?" I echoed in disbelief. "What do you mean, lost?"

"Earthquake. Destroyed part of the lab, along with the samples."

Only one man had been injected with the cells; therefore, only one man could control the Gateway. The loss of the alien cells had made James invaluable to Orca. How convenient. Too convenient. Not for one second did I believe it had been accidental. And now, James' machinations to save himself were costing him his life. There was a ring of poetic justice to it all, I suppose, but I found no pleasure in it.

Using tidbits of knowledge from Hojo's files and my suit's undiscovered supply of ampoules, I was able to concoct a combination of drugs that slowed down the process. My warnings about infections and insistence on a quarantine likely saved several lives among those who had visited Gaia and been exposed to its foreign microbes. It was enough to prove my worth to James and he, in turn, was valuable to Orca. As long as the status quo was maintained, I was relatively safe.

However, it was only a matter of time before the alien cells gained the upper hand again. A few weeks after James' first injection, his hair turned gray overnight. A week later, I saw him knock a guard into a wall. The following day, he struck another in the face.

"These mercs are a rough bunch," James said when I demanded to know what the hell he was doing. "I just need to make sure they know who's in charge, that's all."

Noticing my apprehension, he gave me a cavalier smile.

"Don't worry about it, Tess. I've got the situation under control."

The next time I saw him, he flung a tray of petri dishes at me in a fit of rage. The objects bounced off my raised, armored arms and clattered to the floor without harm, but the action itself was enough to leave me shaken for days. My only sin had been to inform him that I would need more time to analyze the latest batch of blood samples.

James returned the next day, deep remorse etched on his face. Once, it would have been enough to nudge me toward forgiveness. Now, the rare glimpse of his old self only made the pain cut deeper.

"It... It wasn't me, Tess. I would never hurt you. You know that, don't you?"

The sincerity in his voice wrung my heart until I was sure it was bleeding in my chest. I averted my face and stayed silent. He left without another word.

Watching a man I once loved suffer and slowly lose himself before my eyes; that was what it boiled down to. So many months I had spent wishing I could find a way home, and now that my wish had come true, it turned out to be a living nightmare.

I endured, because I had to. I hadn't forgotten my true objective, and what I saw in the weeks after my arrival only strengthened my resolve. Whatever this alien presence was, it was influencing the Gateway, guiding the portals for its own purposes. The Gateway wouldn't save anyone. It would only lead us to an even worse fate and make us take down other worlds with us, like Gaia.

My eyes were riveted to the screen as rows of letters and numbers began to scroll past, but soon I squeezed them shut, pinching the bridge of my nose with a sigh. Another failed attempt. This mystery would have needed a full medical and scientific team to be unraveled, not just a lone biologist with a few unqualified assistants, a limited laboratory and too little time at her disposal. It was a hopeless venture, but still I had tried to find a way to subdue the alien infection. During the past six weeks, I truly had tried.

Sadly, none of my efforts had any effect. James was running out of time.

He wasn't the only one, either. I had overheard more and more talk about a planned military operation through the Gateway to the "Otherworld", as Orca called it. I couldn't wait any longer. Had this last attempt to help James been successful, it would have been my parting gift for old times' sake.

I glanced around the lab. Only Sonia remained, an elderly nurse who worked as one of my assistants. The facility's severely decimated medical team consisted of her and an Orca medic with practical experience born out of necessity, rather than a proper education. It was no wonder James had been so desperate to bring me back.

Lucky for me, that. If not for James and his need for my work, Orca would have lost patience with me long ago. The mercs had questions about Gaia's resources, technology, defenses. They had not been impressed by my ignorance – some feigned, although most was genuine thanks to my long confinement in Shinra's hospital wing. Only James had kept them off my back.

The interrogations had also made it painfully obvious that not only did Orca have no real clue about the nature of the connection between the two worlds, they also didn't much care as long as the portal worked. Soon after my return I had asked for Anita's opinion on Gaia as a physicist, but she'd had no solid answers either. If that had changed in the past six weeks, I didn't know. She refused to speak to me now.

"Sonia, that's enough for today. I'll finish up here."

The woman gave a curt nod. As she tidied her station, I took a look at the assigned guard, standing near the exit in the corridor flanking the lab. He wore a sour expression and tapped his watch when he noticed my eyes on him. I raised my hand in acknowledgement, then pretended to type on the keyboard while I kept a furtive eye on the other woman.

Sonia finished her cleanup and left. It was time.

Working with a practiced ease that belied my quickening heartbeat, I checked the airtight seal on my helmet, then removed the caps from a set of test tubes. Tucking a stack of folders under one arm before lifting the rack high with my other, I headed out of the lab, aiming for the storage room next to the soldier's post.

"Hey, think you could finish up already?" the guard by the door called as soon as I appeared in the hallway. "Dinner's been on for ten minutes. I'm starving here!"

"I know, sorry!" I said with what I hoped was a convincing apologetic smile, increasing my pace. "I'm almost done."

By the storage room door, I tried to balance the folders on one knee and fumbled for my keys, while the guard sighed with impatience. As I had assumed and hoped, the merc was unaware of lab safety protocol and didn't bring up any of the numerous rules I was breaking.

"Sorry, sorry," I said, making a show of being flustered. "Here, hold this for me, will you?"

Without waiting for a reply, I thrust the rack at his chest hard enough to make the tubes rattle. He grabbed it automatically and I left it in his hands, taking a step toward the storage room door.

"Hey, just what the fuck are you–"

"Thanks, I appreciate it!" I interrupted brightly, taking the keys in my freed hand. "Won't be a second."

The displeased man sniffed, once, twice, then gagged and held the rack at arm's length.

"Jesus, what the hell do you have in these? They stink like... like..."

The guard began to sway and groped for his gun.

"Wha... wha'd... you..."

The storage door clicked open and I ducked inside for cover. Moments later, I heard the man crash to the floor.

I let the door swing open again and for several seconds, I just stared at the heap of listless limbs and shattered glass, amazed that my ploy had worked.

"Warning. User heart rate elevated."

Christ, had that warning gone off too early... Snapping out of my stupor, I sprung back into action. Dragging the unconscious man into the storage room was an easy task with the aid of the powered suit. I considered bringing the gun, but if my plan worked, I wouldn't need it. If the plan failed... Well, then it was all over anyway. I dumped the weapon into a nearby trash can.

I waited several seconds by the exit, holding my breath and pricking up my ears. My eyes scanned the corridor, but saw nothing but gray concrete, cracked by frequent earthquakes and reinforced with steel bars.

I slunk out of the labs and toward the Gateway. The heavy hazard suit made sneaking impossible, but according to plan, nearly all of the inhabitants of this floor of the facility were in the mess having their evening meal. The few who were still at their posts had their eyes set on the outside, not the inside. The coast was clear all the way to the Gateway security station.

As I made my way through the concrete tunnels of the facility, my thoughts strayed to Reno and Reeve, so far away on the other side of the jump. What had been weeks to me, must have been days to them. Were they safe? Were the Weapons vanquished and Meteor destroyed? Did they ever think of me, as I often thought of them? Technically, I had never been alone since my return, yet these had been some of the loneliest days of my life. Orca staff held as little trust and friendship for me as I for them.

As soon as the station was within view, a cold knot formed in my gut. While I had done the work James demanded of me, I had used every available opportunity to gather more information, from overheard gossip to unattended computers. Piece by piece, I had learned of the security measures and the changes made to the facility. Only, the picture hadn't been as complete as I thought.

There were two mercs at the station, not one.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit..."

I mouthed the word like a soundless chant as I surveyed the room from the shadowy cover of some crates stored in the hallway. One of the guards was sitting by the desk near the window, reading a magazine with his feet up on a desk, while the other was pacing by the door, talking.

These guys were the last obstacle between me and the Gateway. Attacking them was out of the question. A scientist against two trained soldiers? Yeah, right. The knockout cocktail wasn't an option either; I wouldn't be able to give it to them individually, and I didn't have enough chemicals to fill a whole room.

I ground my teeth in frustration. I had come too far to give up now, but what could I do? I couldn't go anywhere near the station; the corridor was fully lit and they would know who I was as soon as they laid eyes on the red-and-black suit.

Wait a minute...

An old memory stirred. What was it Reno had once said? People saw the hair, the goggles.

The suit.

My mind raced back over my time at this facility. The first week or two I had been ogled curiously, but I was no longer a novelty. I wore a helmet most of the day and while the visor was transparent, my hair and much of my face was obscured. At meal times I sat by myself or with the research staff, not with the soldiers. I didn't recognize these two, meaning they hadn't been assigned to the labs.

Was I really going to do this? I would be unprotected without my suit, weak and vulnerable. But... It was the only idea that came to mind. My heart rate was picking up as I went through it again, filling in the blanks to turn it a plan of action. I licked my lips nervously. It could work. It should work.

It had to work.

I acted before I could work myself into too much of a state to be able to pull this off. The barracks were close enough to the mess hall that I could hear the hubbub of dozens of soldiers at their evening meal. While unsettling, it had the benefit of drowning out the noise I caused myself.

In my room, I broke into the locker belonging to the larger one of my two mercenary roommates and rummaged through her clothes. Her baggy fatigues were large enough to cover even my armored legs and I paired them with a long-sleeved khaki shirt that concealed my undersuit. The rest of Sparky had to go. A quick glance in the mirror showed a sweaty face, framed by a few strands of wavy hair that had come loose from the sloppy ponytail. Hopefully, my flustered countenance was close enough to that of a disgruntled soldier tasked with physical labor.

I dumped the remaining pieces of my suit into a crate and loaded it onto a pallet jack. It was a lot more effort than I was used to and I was glad I had decided to leave the leg armor on. The exoskeleton was designed to function in separate parts if necessary, meaning my legs got a bit of a strength boost. I had to be careful, though. Without the fine-tuned control of Sparky's main operating system, the response was much cruder.

I observed the functionality as I dashed to medical and stole a jet injector and the strongest sedative I could find. By the time I returned to the suit in its crate, I had a pretty good handle on how to walk normally. I prepared the injector gun with what I guesstimated to be a strong enough dose to take someone down within seconds without killing them, then wrapped it in a rag I had snatched from medical and placed it on top of the crate.

Everything was ready. I grabbed the handle of the pallet jack and swallowed hard, trying to keep my breathing steady in spite of the stale, dusty air tickling my throat. My palms were sweaty and I adjusted my hold on the handle several times. I was going to do this. I had to. Breathe. Focus.

With my fingers wrapped tightly around the handle, I pushed forward.

Chapter Text

I grimaced as the pallet jack creaked into motion on squeaky wheels. The guards must have heard me long before I came into view. The one who leaned against the wall straightened up as soon as he saw me, while the one with the magazine just sent me a cursory glance over the top of the pages. When I came to a halt next to the station, the alert one called out to me.

"I don't recognize you. Name?"

It was time to put all those overheard conversations to use. I let go of the pallet jack and made a show of wiping my hands on the rag that concealed my weapon, then let them both fall to the side and walked over to the door with what I hoped was natural-looking ease.

"Foley," I said, amazed by how even my voice sounded. "Part of the Philly crew. I'm supposed to take this lot to, uh, Gateway storage two?"

I had to force myself to keep breathing while I waited for a reaction to my ruse. A detachment of Orca soldiers had arrived from their Philadelphia base last week. I could only hope these guys hadn't gotten too acquainted with the new faces yet. Or worse, were part of them.

"She looks familiar to me, Kingsley," the seated guard remarked before taking a swig from his water bottle, never looking up. "I've seen her around."

My heart nearly stopped. I expected him to make the connection right away, but the guard remained occupied by his reading material. Maybe some of my apprehension showed, because the other man narrowed his eyes.

"Shouldn't you be off duty, Foley? It's a bit late for hauling shit around."

I put on my best sheepish grin.

"Uh, yeah. Brodie and I didn't see eye to eye," I said, using the name of one of the less-liked team leaders.

Magazine Man, no doubt sensing the opportunity for gossip, finally looked up with half a grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Oh? Do tell."

Using that as an invitation, I took a few steps forward, placing myself within reach of the suspicious one.

"I may have asked if he'd caught a case of the dumb asses. He didn't take kindly to that."

The man returned to his magazine with a raucous laugh, shaking his head in amusement.

"Man, Brodie's a stuck-up dickhole," he sniggered. "Wouldn't know a sense of humor if it came up and kicked him in the nuts."

"Right," Kingsley said slowly. "I'm gonna have to clear this."

I raised my hand in a dismissive wave. The other held the jet injector in a death grip.

"Sure, whatever. The sooner I'm done with this bullshit, the better."

As he reached for his communicator, I turned away from the man and took another step into the room, as if to give him some space, and positioned myself between the two mercs. As the man was raising the radio to his ear, I dropped the rag and spun around.

The jet hit him square in the neck before he had a chance to realize what was going on. He stumbled backward, the unused communicator clattering to the floor. I heard a surprised shout from behind me and whirled around to face the other merc.

Unfortunately, after six weeks spent inside a suit with power-assisted movement, my coordination without it was off. My swing went wide and I had to take a couple of faltering steps to the side to keep my balance. That was all the second soldier needed. A hard blow to my wrist knocked the jet injector out of my hands and I was grabbed from behind. He launched us both toward the wall, but just before impact I got a foot wedged against it and instinctively kicked back.

The next second we were in the air, followed by a thump on my back that knocked the wind out of my lungs. My legs slipped out from under me and I dropped down onto my behind. Staring stupidly ahead, I tried to make sense of the view. The wall I had almost been slammed into face-first was now on the other side of the room. I was sitting on the floor, legs jutting out in a wide angle. The merc...

I scrambled onto my knees, clawing at the floor in my blind rush to put some distance between myself and the man behind me. Once I reached the middle of the room I twisted around to face my opponent.

The soldier was immobile, slumped back against the wall in much the same position I had just found myself in. His eyes were closed, and blood trickled out from his nose and mouth.

Oh my god, Tess, you killed him!

My ragged breaths threatened to turn into full-blown hyperventilation until I saw his chest rise. The motion was weak, but it was there. He was still alive. My shoulders sagged in relief and I let my head drop down, hanging limp between my arms as I remained still on shaky hands and knees in the middle of the security booth.

As I waited for the adrenaline rush to pass and my breathing to slow down, I realized what had happened. Sparky's legs. When I kicked back against the wall, it was with a full strength boost. The poor man had practically been crushed.

My stomach churned. Clambering over to the desk, I barely reached the trash can before the retching began.

When I was in a condition to move again, I rinsed the vile taste out of my mouth with a couple of mouthfuls from the bottle on the desk. Pulling on the missing pieces of my suit was a struggle. My wrist ached and a bruise had begun to form near the thumb, while my battered back complained with every step I took. With Sparky's support, however, I was able to use both.

I locked the drugged man inside the closest storage room. The injured one I placed on the pallet jack and moved into the corridor outside the barracks. He didn't make a sound; while that worried me, it was probably for the best under the current circumstances. Hopefully, the others would find him in time.

Back at the security station, I rushed to the computer terminal. The control system had changed, but it only took a few trials to find and activate the emergency blast doors. What I hadn't expected was the ear-shattering klaxon that sounded a warning as the shields came down. I jumped, then punched a dent into the wall and yelled a rattled stream of curses. At that point, I bloody well needed it. It wasn't as if anybody would hear me over that blasted alarm, anyway.

Meanwhile, the thick, heavy shields obediently slid down and soon covered the outer window and door to security. A few seconds later I heard the large blast door touch concrete with a dull thump, blocking all access through the main corridor.

Heart pounding, I ran to the panel between the door and window, which – fourteen years ago, at least – housed the control circuitry for the security station blast shields. Fortunately, that hadn't changed. With Sparky's strength and protection it was an easy task to knock the panel aside and tear out a handful of wires. Less than a minute later, I had repeated the process for the main blast door. Finally, just to be on the safe side, I smashed an elbow into the control terminal itself, which went dark with a satisfying crack and a shower of sparks.

Closing my eyes, I allowed myself a slow, deep breath of relief. Even if the others had heard the calamity, as they must have, they couldn't get to me now. The Gateway sector was locked down.

This was no time to dawdle, however. The final part of my plan remained.

I exited the security room and made my way down the corridor. Everything was quiet, as expected, and the stolen access key opened the control room door. I snuck in – only to freeze to the spot in surprise, which was almost instantly replaced by debilitating dread.

James and two Orca mercs were inside, waiting for me.

The mercenaries moved into position before I had processed what I was seeing, blocking my exit. I could only stare in stunned dismay as James closed the distance between us. The engineer wasn't wearing his helmet, giving me a clear view of the contemptuous smile on his face.

"Well, well," he sneered. "If it isn't my wayward little biologist. I had a feeling I might run into you here."

How did he know? How did he know?

Without warning, he swung his fist into my face.

The force of the blow crashed my temple into the inner side of the helmet and left my ears ringing. I couldn't even make out the words of the suit's tinny warning. I staggered back and raised a hand to steady my spinning head, tasting the coppery tang of blood on my tongue.

The pain was insignificant compared to the pure shock I felt. James had hit me. Helmet or no, James had fucking hit me.

"I got worried when you didn't show up for dinner. It's not like my girl to miss a meal."

"I'm not your girl," I growled through gritted teeth.

"Oh, but you are. You're all mine now."

Hot tears burned in my eyes as I moved them back to my former fiancé. His face was a stone mask, his lips twisted into a cruel smile; but it was the eyes that were the worst. The pupils were no longer shifting restlessly, but had fully transformed into vertical slits, like the eyes of a cat. My breath choked in my chest. I had been wrong. This wasn't James. I was at the mercy of something alien.

"I'm afraid we'll have to punish you for pulling this quaint little stunt. We can't allow anything to happen to the Gateway. We need it to reach Her. He says She can help us. He says She can make us whole again."

Before I could attempt to make any sense of the mad ramblings, the creature that wore James' face grabbed my shoulder and yanked me forward with shocking strength.

"Suit FitzEvan," it ordered in James' voice. "Power down."

So, it was over. What an ignoble end to a quest that never had much hope to begin with. I held my breath and tensed up, preparing for the dead weight that would pin me in place.

The inhuman eyes stared at the suit with a bewildered frown when nothing happened. In the same instant I realized my suit no longer obeyed the commands of its original creator, I recalled the origins of Sparky's new name. Reeve must have fully reset its verbal ID protocols when the name was changed, including master overrides. Once again, I was indebted to the red-haired Turk and his inane, absurd and absolutely wonderful suggestions.

Grinning madly as a fresh surge of adrenaline shot through my veins and sent my heart into a wild race, I called out my own order.

"Sparky, blast off!"

A short hum was followed by the sharp crack of an electrical surge and I found myself propelled through the air. I landed hard on one of the computer terminals and felt blinding pain shoot through my arm before everything went dark.

When I came to, the suit was still rattling off its warnings, so I must have only blacked out for a second or two.

"...fracture detected. Internal bleeding detected. Warning. Power level critical. System powering down in–"

With a sad little hum, the suit went dead. Reeve had never had the chance to fix that problem.

I couldn't remember when I had last felt such an overwhelming urge to cry.

Fighting it, I forced myself to concentrate on the present. Turning my head proved surprisingly difficult; without the aid of a powered suit, the helmet was heavier than I had realized. I glimpsed two bodies on the ground to my left and James' crumpled form near the wall opposite from where we had been standing. All of them were still. The only sound I could hear was the faint, alarmed beeping of the terminal that had broken my fall.

I had been too close to an immobile wall when Sparky's energy blast went off, I realized. I was lying on my back in an awkward position, the suit now dead weight holding me down. My left arm felt like it was on fire – likely the fracture the suit had mentioned. I didn't want to think about what the internal bleeding might be. There was something wrong with my vision, too. I could only see properly with my right eye.

By now, every panting breath was accompanied by a whimper. I was a hair's breadth from panicking. I squeezed my eyes shut and made myself breathe through my nose, trying my best to ignore the revolting smell of blood. I couldn't let myself fall apart now.

Focus! Use your head!

Reeve's medical system. If I could restore enough power, the suit would take care of the rest. Well, in theory, but it was my best shot. My only shot. I had to get to a recharging station.

With only one functional arm and covered in more than thirty kilos of armor, something as simple as shifting onto my side took several minutes. I was amazed no other guards had shown up. The lockdown was proving more effective than I expected.

I pushed myself up onto my knees, holding my injured arm as still as possible against my side. The action made me tear up with pain. I bent my head and tore the helmet off, letting it fall to the ground. When I opened my eyes again, my vision was okay. A little blurry, but I could see with both eyes. The incredible relief was the last straw and I began sobbing openly.

I had to move. The taste of blood was strong in my mouth and the pain was getting worse. The problem was, I couldn't get up. The suit was just too heavy for my injured body. I had no choice but to crawl along on one good hand and my knees. It was slow. So slow. I could see blood drip onto the floor at a steady pace. It must have been from my nose.

It wasn't long before my arm was shaking uncontrollably. James' workshop, and the recharge station it contained, was now less than ten meters away. I pushed on, keeping myself in motion with pure stubbornness. When my field of vision began to lose focus around the edges, I thought of Reno.

"The fuck you call that, Fitz?" I imagined him say. "I've seen legless ol' grannies crawl faster, yo."

My breath was coming in quick, shallow gasps that just weren't enough. When I tried to force a deeper lungful of air, my whole body was wracked by debilitating spasms and I coughed up blood. I lost my balance and landed on the shoulder of my broken arm. My vision exploded in pure, blinding white. I couldn't even scream; my lungs just wouldn't work anymore.

Imaginary Reno was throwing paperclips at my head.

"The hell are ya waitin' for, breakfast in bed or somethin'? C'mon, ya lazy crybaby, quit slackin' off and get off the fuckin' floor already. Haul some goddamn ass!"

I honestly don't know how, but I made it to my goal. Luckily, the recharge station was right inside the door. I don't think I could have made it much farther.

Biting back the whimpers, I pulled myself onto my feet with the support of a nearby shelf. Two shaky steps brought me within reach of the cable and I managed to grab it just as I collapsed against the wall. This time, I couldn't stop the shriek that tore from my throat.

I lay there in a panting heap for a whole minute before I could make myself move again. It took several tries, but I finally connected up the suit. With a relieved, nigh hysterical laugh, I allowed myself to go limp.

The steady hum of the station recharging the suit was the most beautiful sound I could imagine. When I looked up, the indicator screen was already at 24 percent. I thought I had only closed my eyes for a second, but I must have lost consciousness again. With gingerly movements, I flipped open the control panel on my injured arm and turned Sparky back on.

"Hazardous environment suit online. Warning. Vital signs critical. Administering hi-potion."

I felt a small sting on my neck before the suit had finished its line. A warm feeling spread down to my torso and out to my limbs in less than a second. Another second later, the tingling superseded all other sensation; so briefly that it was over before I had fully registered it.

I blinked a few times in surprise, cautiously moving the fingers on my left hand. The effect was much less intense than I remembered, although it seemed to have done the job. Maybe the ampoule held a smaller dose, or maybe the whole process was much quicker when injected straight into the bloodstream.

As fascinating a topic as the properties of Gaia's magical healing was, that was a question to ponder later. Right now I had other priorities.

"Charging in progress. Power at twenty-five percent."

I couldn't wait for too long, but I needed to make sure the suit had enough juice to get me through the final part of the plan. As my eyes wandered along the gruesome trail of blood I had left behind, I tried to shake off the lingering grogginess. Just like the first time, my brain had trouble switching mental gears after such miraculous, instant healing.

How long had it been? Ten minutes? Twenty? Thirty? I had no idea. I never thought I could be so grateful for James' arrogant streak. If he had bothered to deal with the lockdown before he tried apprehending me, this little adventure would have been over before it even had a chance to properly begin.

As I glanced over the workspace, a glint of gold caught my eye. It was the helmet Reeve had made for me. A stupid grin spread over my face. That golden visage was like a damned ray of the sun, shining into my pit of heartache and misery. A much-needed physical reminder of why I had to succeed.

I checked the indicator on the charging station. Forty-seven percent. It would have to do. I pushed myself up to my feet with renewed vigor and disconnected myself, then fetched the helmet and let it click into place. It was time to finish this.

Disable circuit breakers. Disable fire alarm. Disconnect fire suppression system. Victor's instructions came back to me clear as day as I completed the necessary tasks, one by one. I had repeated them in my head every night for the past week, preparing for this moment.

Everything was as I had left it when I returned to the control room. James was still slumped on the floor. I couldn't see his face. I couldn't even tell if he was still breathing inside all the blue-black armor encasing him. Swallowing hard, I turned my head away. I didn't want to approach him. I didn't want to risk seeing his eyes, which I had once found so brilliant and captivating, stare back at me devoid of life.

The action brought my gaze onto a screen showing the feed of several security cameras. I saw the security booth, along with several concrete corridors, on both sides of the blast doors. They must have been watching me the whole time, just waiting even after I took down two of their comrades. They'd had the perfect opportunity to catch me while I was out of my suit and recovering from the shock, but no.

The muscles in my jaw grew tight. Knowing James and his tendency toward hubris, he had wanted to thwart me right when I thought I was going to get away with it, to prove himself smarter and really rub it in. Well, hopefully watching me puke my guts out had been amusing enough to be worth dying for.

I made my way over to the main computer, timidly stepping over one of the dead mercs on the way, and switched it on. The device hummed to life along with several other networked units, and soon the login box popped up on the screen. I wasn't planning to use it, however. The last time I had found myself in a situation like this, the system had been remotely locked by Orca. Victor had used an override, a backdoor he had placed into the system, and the commands he had used were burned into my memory.

James had often complained about Victor's incomprehensible spaghetti code. He had taken it as bad programming practice. Now I suspected it was another one of Vic's paranoid measures to hide his secrets. With any luck, James and his team had never found this particular one. Holding my breath, I brought up the command-line interface and entered the first instruction.

The cursor blinked several times, beeped twice, and then a litany of commands I didn't understand flooded the screen. I was fairly certain that wouldn't have happened if the attempt had failed, though. I was in.

Working quickly, I entered more commands, mentally ticking them off one by one. Override safety protocols. Disable failsafe systems. Boost power charge beyond nominal maximum. Set up memory purge.

The command console beeped softly as it accepted my instructions, blissfully ignorant of the fact that it was setting up its own annihilation. Once the Gateway was charged up and would attempt to execute the jump, the whole system would suffer a catastrophic overload. The resulting unchecked energy discharge would take out everything on this side of those blast doors. Myself included.

"The deal was for two tickets, Therèse."

The weak, hoarse voice whispered from the speakers with no warning. I froze. It was James. I could instantly tell this was the real James.

"Two hibernation pods on a starship. Both of us."

I knew for a fact that the man was lying to his new woman. Who knew how many lies he had fed me back when I was blithely unaware of his duplicity? Nevertheless, I had a terrible feeling that right at this moment, he was telling the truth.

I kept my eyes averted from the motionless body by the wall. Rationally, I should have been watching him for signs of treachery, but I just couldn't bear looking at him.

"And Victor? The rest of the team?"

No response. That in itself was enough to answer the question.

I resumed my typing.

"Don't do this."

The tone was pleading now. I grit my teeth and pushed onward, blinking away unwelcome tears.

"If you destroy the Gateway, we'll be stuck on a dead planet!"

He was right, of course. My actions would doom not only myself, but James, his new people, and all that remained of humanity on Earth's barren surface. Thousands of human beings. Hundreds of thousands.

But there were millions, maybe billions of humans on Gaia.

As soon as the noble thought had registered, Reno's face flickered before my eyes, followed by Reeve and Amanda, Victor, my sister, my parents; even James as my younger, naive self remembered him, before any of this had happened.

Who was I kidding? Now, at the end of the road, I could admit to myself what I had known deep down all along. I wasn't doing this for the sake of Gaia's general population. Looking back over the years of hard, desperate work; none of that had been for the greater good of Earth, either. And now, right or wrong, I was once again choosing a few cherished lives over thousands of strangers.

"I guess you were right, James. I'm no better than you, after all."

"You'll die. We'll all die!"

A melancholy smirk twisted my features as I recalled a conversation high above an enigmatic city, on a different world. If I have to choose, it won't be my friends who do the dying. Not if I can help it. This one's for you, Reno.

"C'est la vie, Jamie," I said out loud. "No one gets through it alive."

"Tess, please! Don't–"

My former lover's voice was cut off when I turned off communications. I could barely see what I was doing as I entered the final command for the jump sequence; tears blurred my view, cascading freely down my cheeks.

The lights above me flickered in response as I initialized the jump, triggering the charging process of the Gateway's greedy power reservoirs. Only seconds later, an explosion shook the complex, followed by shouts and the sound of heavy boots on concrete. Orca had broken through.

With a terrible sinking feeling I realized it was still possible to stop the jury-rigged self-destruct sequence. I scoured the room, trying to come up with some way to slow them down, until my eyes fell on the body of one of the dead mercs.

Grenades. Why the hell not. Go out with a bang, right?

I had never held grenades before, much less used them, but how hard could it be? I had seen plenty of action movies. Pull the pin, boom. Game over.

I had to suppress a giggle as I yanked a couple of the explosives off the dead soldier's belt. There was something disturbingly exhilarating about making your own demise as ostentatious as possible.

"Sparky, all shields to maximum."

"All shields, activated."

Flashes of electricity flickered over the Gateway's machinery as I entered the antechamber. Despite the hazard suit's shielding, I could feel the little hairs on my arms stand on end. I watched the barely contained lightning as it danced and flittered over the machinery, awed by the powerful display. I smelled something burning; I took it as a good sign.

Angry voices behind me, much louder now, made me snap out of it. With a little trial and error, I got the first pin out and threw the grenade somewhere beyond the mess of cables behind the Gateway chamber, closely followed by the second one.

As soon as the explosive had left my fingers, gunfire erupted behind me. Some kind of primitive survival instinct took control when bullets ricocheted off the metal casing of the chamber to my right. The events of the next few seconds seemed to play out in slow-motion, as I dove into the Gateway chamber and threw the heavy door shut behind me.

Inside, the energy levels were staggering; whirling around and tearing at my suit.

"Warning. Shield vi-vi-vitals critical. User power elevated. Major electromagnetic field fra-fra-fractured."

I laughed. Sparky's confused report of incomputable readings was a fitting soundtrack to the end of this misadventure.

That was my last coherent thought before the world erupted in searing white and crackling blue.

Chapter Text

I woke up, and promptly regretted doing so. I felt like I had been hit by a bus, or possibly a train. Every single part of my body ached.

There was something unnervingly familiar about this situation.

When my eyelids parted in reluctant slow-motion, a strange sight was revealed. I stared at the craggy shapes in the distance for what must have been several minutes before I could make any sense of it. Eventually I concluded that I was lying on my back and observing the ceiling of a cave. The rocky surface was lit by an eerie, greenish glow coming from somewhere on my right. I lolled my head in that direction, but couldn't see much from the cave floor.

I propped myself up on one elbow and squinted at the light. I couldn't see the source; it emanated from somewhere below the ledge I found myself on. What was this place? My memory was fuzzy and full of holes, but I was pretty certain I had never laid eyes on this cave before.

"Lass? Is that you? I don't believe it!"

I swayed my head in the direction of the boisterous voice and could only stare in bafflement as I saw a black and white cat hop off some kind of huge... round... thing. A pink blob with wings. The cat padded up to me on its hind legs and came to halt right in front of my face, giving me a better look. It was a plush cat, with a small crown, a megaphone and a red bow around its neck.

Great. I was hallucinating.

"It is you," it cried, too loud even without the aid of its megaphone, and leaned forward with its little plush paws – no wait, gloved hands – on its hips. "How'd ya get here, lass?"

While I gawked at the creature and tried to figure out why my delirious mind would produce a talking toy cat, a man in a tattered red cape took a couple of steps towards us. A flash of gold drew my attention to the claw that was his left hand, and when I looked up at his face, I saw that his eyes were red.

Oh yes. Definitely hallucinating.

I was dying, and this was the result of my mind being unable to cope with it. That was the only sensible explanation. The explosion hadn't been quite enough to kill me and now I was experiencing some kind of weird limbo state between life and death. These were the delusions of a dying brain.

"You know what it is, Cait?" the red-eyed man asked in a low voice as emotionless as his face.

The toy hopped around to glare at him.

"She's not an 'it'. She's a 'she'!"

"Yeah? How can ya tell, ya damn Shinra puppet? It looks like a fuckin' heap of metal scrap! A damn creepy one too, if ya ask me."

An opinion firmly declared by a huge, burly man with a gun instead of an arm. This was just getting better and better.

Behind the two, I could see a tiny girl holding some kind of weapon with giant spikes sticking out in every direction, an older one with long legs and longer hair, and a blond guy who even had Reno beat when it came to ridiculous haircuts. There were more, but my vision was getting too blurry. Maybe there was a problem with my helmet. Or maybe it was, you know, the dying.

"It's a woman in an armored suit," the cat huffed, then swirled back around and knocked on my visor. "Come on, lass. Open up and show 'em!"

"What are you?" I asked, having finally found my voice.

The rational part of me was convinced that speaking to figments of my imagination would only make things worse, but I decided to ignore it. It wasn't like rational sense had anything to do with the current situation.

"Holy shit!" the girl with the spiky thing shrieked.

"Whoa!" Mr. Gun-arm shouted.

"It speaks," said the mercifully quiet voice of...

My jaw dropped, while my eyes goggled out of my head. The pleasant voice belonged to an enormous, red, cat-dog creature. That talked. And was on fire. Christ, my mind had gone off the rails.

The artificial cat tutted and shook its head.

"Sheesh, hit your head or somethin'?" it asked me, ignoring the other comments. "You know who I am. You've seen me! Well, my pictures, at least."

Now that the toy cat mentioned it, it did look familiar. I had seen that grinning face before. My forehead scrunched up in concentration while I examined it closer.

"Reeve's drawings," I concluded, speaking mostly to myself.

"That's right!" the plushie exclaimed with much glee. "Now show us your pretty face already!"

Well, considering what else my mind could have conjured up, a sentient toy was relatively harmless. I pushed my unwilling body up to a sitting position, trying my best not to mind the way the humans of the party reached for their weapons, then raised my hands and released the helmet's airtight lock.

"Yikes," the cat said once I revealed my face, flinching back. "Got yerself into trouble, did ya?"

"You could say that," I mumbled, taking the helmet in one hand so I could prop myself up with the other. Getting up hadn't been such a good idea. My vision was swimming and I could have sworn the toy and its bewildered companions were drifting farther away from me. Several voices were speaking, but I could only make out the one closest to me.

"Hey, are you okay? You don't look so good."

I snorted softly at being on the receiving end of a plush toy's concern, then blinked hard several times to rid myself of the black spots dancing before my eyes.

"Yeah? I don't feel so hot either."

With that, my arm buckled under me and I passed out.

The ground was shaking.

I woke with a start, arms flailing out to find purchase. As soon as my eyelids flew open, I realized I had been mistaken. I was in a moving vehicle, not another earthquake.

"Gawd! Whatcha doing back there? Trying to give me a freaking heart attack?"

I squeezed my eyes shut with a grimace as the shrill shriek pierced my eardrums. There was something familiar about the voice. I could have sworn I had heard it before.

My eyelids snapped wide open for the second time in less than ten seconds and I found myself staring at the round, childish face of Girl With Spiky Thing. I tilted my head back to peek at the person beside her. Although I couldn't get a proper look, lying on the back seat as I was, the ratty black hair and the high collar of his red cloak was enough to identify the man I had seen in her company earlier. My mouth fell open.

"You're... real?"

The girl rolled her eyes theatrically.

"Duh, of course I'm real! I'm Yuffie Kisaragi, the Single White Rose of Wutai and Ninja Extraordinaire!"

There was only one part of the litany that registered properly, but that single word stunned me to the core.

"Wutai?"

I jerked up to a sitting position, ignoring the way the girl recoiled in response, and shoved my face against the side window. The glitter of icy plains filled the view, framed by snow-tipped mountains. Beyond them, tinting everything pink with its glow, was Meteor. It was huge now, covering most of the sky with its red jagged surface.

"Gaia," I breathed.

Dozens of emotions crashed into me at once. Disbelief, joy, fear, relief, guilt, and many, many more. I struggled to contain them all, taking deep, ragged breaths to keep my composure.

"Uh, Robogirl? You're kinda freaking us out here. I mean, I'm cool, but Vincent's getting worried."

I looked over to the front of the vehicle just in time to see the blank glance the man sent his chatty companion, although she was too busy ogling me to notice. The girl didn't bother hiding the distrust on her face.

"Cait told us to bring you along, but if you're gonna go all weird on us, I'm gonna dump you in the snow and tell the driver to floor it."

"Hey, I–I can't allow that," another man in the driver's seat stammered. The girl ignored him.

"Cait?" I asked.

"Yeah, Cait Sith. He seemed to know ya."

Cait Sith? That sounded like something out of my grandfather's stories. In fact, the damned toy cat in my dream had even spoken like my granda.

Ohh, hang on... If these two were real, then it really had spoken. And so did... I could feel myself go pale.

"Uh... Cait Sith is the, um, toy cat?"

"That's the one. Bloody loud and annoying for such a tiny thing."

I marveled at the way Yuffie spoke of a walking, talking stuffed toy as if it was an everyday occurrence. Then again, I had just spent the past weeks in the company of man who had turned himself into a human-alien hybrid. I was in no position to judge.

"And the... The other cat?"

"You mean Red? What about him?"

"He speaks too?"

"Yeah, I know," she grinned. "Kinda blows your mind at first, right? He's all right, though. A bit quiet and speaks hella slow when he finally opens his mouth, uh, maw I guess, which really, really winds me up, but he's a nice guy. Cat. Whatever he is."

"Oh."

Yuffie's nice-cat-guy endorsement notwithstanding, I was glad neither feline had joined us on our road trip. I had a hard enough time coping with this incredible turn of events as it was.

Her expression was taking a turn toward nauseated.

"Uh, hey, maybe you could, you know, do something about your face? It's kinda icky."

"Excuse me?"

"There's blood on it," she explained with a grimace. "Like, loads. It's pretty gross. Hang on, I think I've got something you can use."

She dug around inside the poncho-like garment she had bundled up in. Only now did I notice the hood was decorated with two buttons that resembled eyes. I wondered if the effect was intentional.

"Dammit, I know it's in here somewhere... Just a sec... Aha! Ta-da!"

Yuffie triumphantly held up a small pocket mirror, then handed it to me along with a water bottle and a small cloth. Once I looked in the mirror I could see her point. Dried blood was smeared around my nose and on my forehead. It must have been caused by Sparky's blast, or rather, the abrupt landing a second later. Maybe even James, I speculated, remembering the copper taste in my mouth after his strike.

A jagged hurt clawed at my chest and I quickly slapped that thought away.

Clenching my jaw tight, I moistened the cloth and wiped the stains off my face. A wan face, I noted, with deep shadows under the eyes. My stay on Earth had taken its toll in more ways than one.

"You said you were taking me somewhere?" I asked once I was done, glancing out of the window again.

"We're going back to Midgar. Cloud and the rest of AVALANCHE are gonna stop Sephiroth, but Reeve needs help getting people out of the city. Meteor is right on top of it and it's already making things fall apart."

Reeve! Maybe I could contact him directly now that I was back on Gaia. I had to try. I snapped my head around and scanned the backseat, only now registering that a part of my suit was missing.

"Where's my helmet? I have to check something."

"It's right there," the girl said and pointed at the floor of the snowcat, in front of my seat.

"Thanks!"

I pulled the helmet on and clicked it into place, then turned off the external speakers and released a long sigh. I could see Yuffie watching me with curiosity and suspicion through the tinted one-way visor, and I allowed myself to close my eyes and just breathe for a few moments. My mind was already busy, putting together the pieces of this strange puzzle. I liked it that way. As long as my brain focused on the intellectual challenges of my situation, I could ignore the emotions.

Before I could dwell too much on the very subject I wished to avoid, I told Sparky to give me a full systems check.

"I-i-initiating systems check. Suit status monitoring, online. User status monitoring, online. Co-co-communication interface, online. Electromagnetic shielding, at forty-three percent. High impact a-a-armor, at fifty-three percent. Power-assisted mo-mo-movement, at sixty-eight percent. Automated medical systems, a-a-activated. Wa-wa-warning. Power at thirty-two percent. Ma-ma-major exoskeleton damage detected. All external sensors, disabled. Sy-sy-systems check complete."

I made a face at the suit's sorry stammer, but according to the report, the vital systems were still functional. It would have to do.

With a deep breath, I opened the channel Reeve had used during my previous visit.

"Reeve? Reeve, come in. Are you there?"

Nothing, except the buzz of static. I told Sparky to boost the signal and tried again, then again. My heart nearly skipped a beat when a voice came through, faint but familiar.

"Reeve here. Tess, is that you?"

The intensity of the relief that washed over me took me by surprise, making my fingers tremble inside their gloves. I had missed the smooth son of a gun.

"Reeve!" It came out as something between a sigh and a sob. "It's me. I'm back."

"Yes, I know...you all right?"

Even through the distortion and breaks in the transmission, I could hear his concern. It was such a welcome change after the antagonism and distrust I had been subjected to for so long.

"I'm... I'm fine. Sparky needs some work, though."

Physically speaking, it wasn't a lie. Now that I thought about it, I felt much better than the first time I had woken up. The jump must have been less taxing than the first time, or maybe the suit had decided to give me another shot of healing juice while I was out for the count.

"Tell you what, once...over, you can tell...I'll fix Sparky up as good as new. I'm afraid...complete chaos here. We're evacuating Midgar."

"So I heard. I can help. I've done that sort of thing before."

"Thanks, Tess...appreciate it...like to say it isn't necessa...truth is, we need every...willing to help. Tell Yuffie and Vin...bring you to Shinra HQ and find Reno. He and...Turks are helping out, too."

The interference was getting worse. I was fairly certain I had gotten the gist of it, though.

"Get to HQ, find Reno. Got it."

"Great. I really...it. I'll see you when...over. Stay safe."

"You too, Reeve. See you soon. Tess out."

Reno. The other lovable bastard I thought I would never get to see again. I leaned my head back against the seat, a weary smile on my lips.

"Hey Vince, you think Robogirl died on us? She hasn't said a thing since she put that helmet on and now she kinda fell backwards and stopped moving."

That had to be the worst stage whisper I had ever heard. With a sigh, I reached up and removed the helmet, making the girl jump in surprise in the process.

"I'm not dead yet."

Yuffie clutched her chest in a dramatic gesture and shot me an irritated glare.

"Gawd, don't do that! You are trying to give me a heart attack!"

I suppressed a smile and was on the verge of relaying what Reeve had said, when I remembered something the girl had said. AVALANCHE. The terrorists that been all over the news for blowing up reactors and had clashed with the Turks on several occasions.

Well. This was awkward.

It occurred to me that I should probably have been more worried about my current situation, but the fear just wasn't there. Whether this was due to becoming jaded after everything I had been through since I first landed on this world, or if it was because it was hard for me to take these two as a serious threat; that was something I could ponder later. For now, I just decided it best not to mention my Shinra associations.

"How long until Midgar?" I asked.

"Oh, hard to say. It depends on how bad the weather has gotten around Midgar. We'll be at Icicle Inn in a few minutes, where Reeve oughta have a bird waiting to take us to Kalm. From there, it's maybe a couple of hours in a truck to Midgar. We should be there early in the morning."

I noted the way her face scrunched up in distaste at the word bird. The ninja girl wasn't talking about a real bird, was she? They did ride birds here, and in a world with talking toys and cats, anything could be possible.

"You don't seem very excited about the... flight?"

"Motion sickness," she explained with another unhappy face. "I get it from most things, I mean, I already barfed because of this snow car thingie while you were out of it, but being in the air is the worst. I've never been in a helicopter before, but I'm pretty sure it'll make me barf again."

Delightful. This was going to be one hell of a trip. At least it wasn't a literal giant bird.

The place names Yuffie had mentioned meant nothing to me, except for Midgar, so I had no idea where we actually were on the planet. Somewhere up north, judging by the snow and the biting wind that nipped at my face as soon as I stepped out of the snowcat. It had been a long time since I had been glad for the waste heat the suit generated. Back home, it had been more of a problem to keep it – and its user – cool enough. I had never had a reason to switch off the cooling system before.

Icicle Inn turned out to be a small collection of cozy-looking cottages. Golden light from their windows pooled on the white blanket covering the ground, beckoning any poor souls stuck outside to enter and partake of the warmth inside. As tempting as it was, our goal lay elsewhere. We were rushed into a helicopter waiting just outside the village, its blades already chopping the air at a lazy rate.

The sun had set, and while Meteor provided more light than a full moon, I wasn't able to make out much of the landscape below once we were in the air. Pity. I had never flown in a chopper before either, and would have loved to make the most of the trip.

Conversation was out of the question, considering Vincent's reticence and the fact that Yuffie soon lost her chattiness due to motion sickness. Fortunately, I was exhausted enough to catch some sleep. It was better than spending who knows how many hours alone with my conscience. Besides, I knew I would need it.

By the time I woke up again, we were landing in Kalm, another quaint little village. The early rays of the sun revealed rustic buildings topped by blue shingles and pretty cobbled streets, like a scene straight out of a fairytale. However, the idyllic atmosphere was marred by hundreds of Midgar evacuees pouring out from the backs of canvas-covered trucks and huddling in the streets.

Vincent observed the sight in silence with what seemed to be his usual cool aloofness, but even the bubbly Yuffie was subdued. Her jaw was set and her eyes shone with a determination I hadn't expected from the young girl. I got the feeling I wasn't the only one who had witnessed such hardship before.

She perked up once we were in the back of one of the trucks heading back to Midgar for another load of refugees.

"So, Robogirl, who are you? I assume you have a name. Though, actually, it would be pretty cool if you really were called Robogirl. Are you called Robogirl?"

Yuffie was seated opposite of me, propping herself up in a half-hunched position with her hands on the edge of the bench and kicking her feet back and forth. Rather long and skinny legs, fully revealed thanks to the tiny shorts she was wearing. Her midriff was exposed, too, now that she had discarded her poncho. Talk about jailbait; the girl looked about fifteen. How had she become involved with a terrorist group?

"I'm Therèse FitzEvan. I'm a biologist."

I had forgotten the reaction researchers received on this planet. The ninja girl instantly stopped her kicking and she eyed me with a look of dismay.

"Biologist? As in scientist? Like Hojo?"

Had that man single-handedly ruined the reputations of honest scientists on the whole goddamned globe? Even Vincent roused at that, sending me a piercing stare with those unnatural blood-red eyes of his.

"No," I said curtly, crossing my arms and turning away to watch the receding townlet of Kalm on the horizon. "Not like Hojo."

"You've met him."

The short sentence, spoken in a low, gravelly monotone, was more of a statement than a question. It must have been the first time Vincent spoke to me. In mild surprise, I turned my head back to the man.

His outfit of leather, straps and golden metal was absurd to the point of being comical, but something about his countenance was so deeply unsettling that laughter was the last thing on my mind. Maybe it was the lack of life, of the smallest spark of spirit. Even the smell that clung to him was stale and cold.

"Yes," I confirmed with some reluctance. "He... did tests on me." My lips twisted into something resembling a bitter smile. "I was deemed unworthy of further study."

"I see."

Something flickered in those impassive eyes, so briefly I wasn't sure I had seen it at all. I looked back toward the scenery to hide the unease it inspired.

"You were lucky."

A somber mood descended with the man's final comment and put an end to the brief exchange. The rest of the drive was spent in silence.

A convoy of trucks passed by, full of pale, frightened faces fleeing from Midgar. I could have joined them, I supposed. Ditched the suit and become yet another homeless evacuee who had lost all their official documents in the disaster. What a perfect opportunity to hide from Shinra. I could have fled to the sticks to do whatever people did in the countryside on this planet. Raise chocobos. Make terrible home wine from purple apples.

Hah. Wishful thinking. It was far more likely that I would lament and starve among strangers for a few days until Meteor struck. No, thanks. If these were my last days, I would rather spend them with people I cared about, doing something useful.

When we arrived at Midgar, throngs of people were waiting for the trucks to take them to Kalm. Yuffie had informed me that we would reach the plate using the only train still running, but looking at all the people around us, it seemed like an impossibility to reach the station, much less get a seat on the train. However, my fears proved to be unfounded. The crowds parted willingly at the sight of Vincent; grim and gaunt, with the tattered cloak billowing around him as if it had a life of its own.

As I should have realized from the truck ride, the evacuees were taking the train down, not up. Yuffie, Vincent and I got a whole train car to ourselves. The train dashed through tunnels and narrow passages banked by concrete walls, so I didn't see much of the city on the way.

The first thing that caught my attention upon disembarking was Meteor. Up on the plate, with the ground far below us, the sky was dominated by that red orb. It seemed that if I wanted to, I could just reach out and touch its surface. How insignificant we were, we small beings cowering beneath it in fright. How could anyone hope to survive the impact? How could the people of Gaia possibly deflect the blow?

A hot breeze tousled my hair and filled my nostrils with dust and smoke. I lowered my gaze, at long last seeing the streets of Midgar before me, and felt my chest constrict violently. The awaiting refugees had already swarmed onto the train, leaving behind them a desolate stretch of pavement, unreal in its sudden stillness. The remains of skyscrapers, once reaching proudly toward the sky, now jutted out of the ground like rows of broken teeth. Right behind them, Shinra's headquarters loomed, still exerting its authority over the cityscape despite being nothing but a smoking corpse.

I had never seen the building from the outside before, but I recognized it right away. I stared at the colossal building, in awe of both its size and the havoc wreaked upon it. A strange sensation welled up inside me, a prickling emptiness I couldn't define. That place had been the site of some of my most harrowing experiences, but it had also been the only excuse for a home I had known on this world. The only home I'd had left.

The train whistled and wheezed to life behind us.

"Come on, Robogirl, standing around isn't gonna do any good to anyone. Let's go!"

Swallowing hard, I tore my eyes from the devastation and pulled on my helmet as the three of us began to walk the short distance from the station to the ruins of Shinra HQ.

Well, limp, in my case. The left leg of my suit had been damaged somewhere along the line and twisted my walking out of synch. The small squeak that sounded with every step didn't exactly improve the situation.

Looking down over my crippled suit, then out over the battered cityscape, a wry smirk appeared on my face. We made a fitting pair, Midgar and I. Perhaps I had ended up in the right place after all.

Chapter Text

We arrived at Shinra HQ, where I quickly identified a problem. The building was enormous at street level; a fact I had overlooked when peering down from 50-plus stories high. I had never been on the ground floor of the building, much less outside. How would I be able to find Reno?

"We're meeting up with Reeve's people a few blocks away," Yuffie explained, pointing slightly to our left. "We just gotta get around this giant hunk o' junk first."

The "hunk o' junk" being the remains of HQ, along with the assorted bits of it that littered the surrounding landscape. Lacking better options, I limped after the skipping ninja girl and the striding goth. Since the Turks were helping with the evacuation efforts, this mismatched pair's destination was as good a place to start as any.

A sense of unease settled in the pit of my stomach as we progressed. I had been in cities struck by disaster before and had experienced many kinds of misgivings and fear, but this sensation was new. My footfalls rang too heavy, with an imagined hollow echo. I wondered if the citizens of Midgar ever felt it, the emptiness beneath the plate they treaded upon.

A flash of red caught my attention. My heart skipped a beat when a second glance revealed it to be a wild mop of hair jostled by the wind, on top of a skinny figure in a dark suit.

"Shit!" Yuffie hissed, alerted by my instinctive change of direction. "It's the turkeys! Dammit, I so don't wanna deal with those guys right now. I mean, I could totally kick their butts if I wanted to! We just have more important stuff to do, right, Vinnie? Come on, let's get outta here before they see us."

Ah. That's right. I had neglected to mention what I came here to do.

Before I could come up with some excuse for staying, I saw Reno freeze mid-step, his eyes widening and jaw dropping. The man looked like he had seen a ghost. From his perspective, I supposed that was true. Even the mouth of his bald colleague opened slightly.

The blonde woman with them seemed confused by her colleagues' reactions at first, but a scowl appeared on her face as soon as she spotted us. Her heated comment brought the other two out of their stupor. After a brief exchange Reno, already recovered and sporting his game face, led the Turks down the street to meet us.

"Too late," Yuffie groaned. "That's just great."

Vincent's face remained as impassive as ever, but I sensed a tension creep into his hunched stance.

"It's okay," I said, raising my arm. "Reeve told me to meet them."

Two pairs of eyes turned toward me, one more openly incredulous than the other.

"What?!" the girl shrieked. "Don't you know who these guys are? They're Turks! Major Shinra bad guys!"

Her eyes were nearly bulging out of her head. In retrospect, perhaps I should have mentioned my intentions at some point.

"Please, let's keep things civil," I insisted. "We're all working toward the same goal right now."

"But–"

"Yuffie. Let's do as she says."

I thought I glimpsed a flicker of curiosity in the man's lifeless eyes before he shifted them toward the Turks. Vincent's interjection was unexpected, but it did shut the girl up. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, before she crossed her arms in a huff and glared at the approaching trio.

I followed their lead and shifted my own gaze toward the Turks, letting it rest on one in particular. A smile played on my lips as I took in the familiar swagger, the smirk and the lazily hooded eyes. Oh, how I had missed the cocky bastard.

"Well, well," he drawled once they were within earshot. "What a strange lil' bunch to run into here, of all places."

"Don't try anything, ya turkey jerk! I'm watching you!"

Reno smirked wider and held up his palms, stopping several paces away. He only glanced at Yuffie for a second; otherwise his gaze was riveted on me.

"Hey now, no need to get all het up, Princess. We're just curious 'bout the lady here, yo."

He sounded amused, but the raised eyebrow when he looked my way revealed his caution. Meanwhile, the ninja girl was not taking his dismissal well, judging by her expression. Before the situation could spiral out of control, I reached up and removed my helmet.

Now it was Elena's turn to be taken aback. I guessed she had never seen my suit before. Rude remained stoic, but Reno's eyes lit up with a joy that warmed my entire being.

"Damn," he stated. "You look like shit, Fitz."

I couldn't keep a huge, silly grin off my face.

"Yeah? Well, your hair still looks like a hedgehog on steroids."

Beside me, I heard Yuffie let out a rather unladylike guffaw. Reno snorted, but a small frown formed on his face when he looked me over again.

"Seriously tho', Reeve's gonna be pissed when he sees poor ol' Sparky. What'd you do, hug a grenade or somethin'?"

"Well," I said with a shaky laugh, "as it happens, that's pretty much the gist of it. I'll tell you the long version later."

He tilted his head to one side and fixed me with a thoroughly unimpressed look.

"I thought I told ya not to do anythin' stupid?"

"Yes, well, I guess I'm not as smart as I look."

He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head, chuckling.

"For fuck's sake, FitzEvan."

"Well, Vince, looks like our job's done," Yuffie declared. "So long, Robogirl. Get bent, turkeys."

With a rude gesture aimed at the latter group, the ninja girl bounced off along the street. The man in red merely fixed each of us with an impassive stare, before turning on his heel with a dramatic swish of the cape.

As soon as they were out of sight, I was enveloped in a crushing hug.

"Ifrit's balls, Fitz" Reno laughed by my ear. "You sure have a habit of turnin' up in unexpected places."

Over his shoulder, I could see the stunned faces of his colleagues. The blonde woman I had briefly met during Orca's attack on Shinra HQ gaped at us in barefaced surprise. Rude was more restrained; only his eyebrows had risen far above the rim of his dark glasses.

"Yeah," I joked, my voice muffled by his jacket. "I'm just like the Spanish Inquisition."

"You're the what now?"

"Never mind," I chuckled and wrapped my arms around his waist.

Reno was obviously pleased to see me again, and I could happily admit the feeling was mutual. In that moment, for the first time in a long while, everything felt all right. I closed my eyes and smiled.

"Wa-wa-warning. Minor compressive strain de-de-detected."

"Minor?" he cried with mock indignation. "Is that goddamn suit of yours takin' the piss?"

He let me go and took a step back, scowling at the offending article with his fists on his hips. I laughed, and his feigned frown softened into a playful grin. He waved at my suit.

"All right, tell Sparky to do a full check on ya."

"I'm okay, Reno."

He crossed his arms and fixed me with a level stare.

"Your limp says otherwise."

"It's nothing. Part of the exoskeleton is just a bit bent out of shape, that's all."

The man arched an eyebrow expectantly.

"Seriously," I insisted, though I had begun to realize I was fighting a losing battle. "I'm fine."

"Quit bein' so damn stubborn, babe. You wanna stand here all day?"

I exhaled in a huff. "Oh, fine. Sparky, check user status."

"Wa-wa-warning. User heart rate e-e-elevated. Other vital signs, nominal. Wa-wa-warning. User history indicates prolonged e-e-elevation of stress le-le-levels..."

As the suit struggled through the rundown with its sad sputter, I took the chance to inspect Reno's companions. Apart from the layer of dust on his previously impeccable suit, Rude hadn't changed. I offered him a shy smile, then focused on the female Turk.

She was the youngest of us all, both in terms of physical age and years of experience. Unlike her male counterparts, the blonde didn't hide her thoughts as her suspicious eyes roamed Sparky's misshapen form. It was clear that she was consumed by wary curiosity, yet she hadn't addressed me directly. While Rude seemed reticent by nature, I got the feeling Elena left the talking to Reno due to seniority, or possibly because of the familiarity the man displayed toward me. I wondered how long that would last.

When the suit was finished, I turned back to Reno.

"Happy now?"

A grin had appeared on his face as he listened to the Sparky's report.

"Yeah, that'll do. That suit of yours sure sounds ridiculous, tho'."

I looked down over the dirty, bent and dented wreck that was my protective suit and patted the chest plate affectionately. A few flecks of paint came loose and drifted down, blending into the concrete dust piled up in the street.

"Sparky will be as good as new after some TLC. Reeve will make sure of that."

"Hah. I bet he will. Well, I dunno 'bout the rest of ya, but I need a smoke after all this excitement."

He shifted to the side to include the other two Turks in the conversation, digging out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter as he spoke, then lit up with habitual moves.

"So, Fitz," he said, shoving one hand into a trouser pocket while the other held up his cigarette, "why dontcha give us the short version of how the hell you found your way back here while I finish this."

I had more trouble finding the words than I would have expected, so my summary probably ended up shorter than Reno had intended. I couldn't keep my voice even when I mentioned James. My inability to keep my composure in front of three hardened Turks bothered me, but I couldn't help it. His desperate pleas, as I orchestrated what should have been the end for both of us, were seared into my mind.

Thankfully, Reno kept the snide comments to himself this time.

"So, the Gateway's definitely gone?" he asked when I fell silent. "No more Orca sneak attacks we gotta worry 'bout?"

I had forgotten how intense that aquamarine gaze could be when one was subjected to the full force of its scrutiny. I forgot to breathe for a second, before my brain kicked into gear and answered his question.

"It's gone, and so is James," I confirmed. "They won't be coming back."

He nodded, then hid those sharp eyes under heavy eyelids and sent an approving smile my way.

"Nice work, Fitz. That's all we need to know right now, yo."

Elena shot him a skeptical look.

"Don't you think we should–"

"I said, that's all we need to know right now. We got other problems to deal with."

She snapped her mouth shut and glanced sideways at Rude, but upon finding no support on the bald man's face, Elena nodded meekly and backed down.

As Reno exhaled a lungful of smoke, he gave me another once-over, that concerned expression returning to his face.

"You should go now, to an evac station. While ya still can."

The reluctance in his voice tugged at my heart.

"Trying to get rid of me so soon?" I asked with a crooked smile I hoped looked more confident than I felt. "I'll stay. I can help."

Reno frowned.

"FitzEvan, I don't think–"

"It's not the first time I've helped evacuate a city," I insisted, unwilling to give him the chance to turn me down. "Besides, my suit was made for conditions like these. Sparky may have taken a beating, but most of the systems still work. I'll be able to go into places you can't reach."

He narrowed his eyes at the interruption, but chose to just flick ash from his smoke as he eyed my suit.

"Look," I continued, pointing to Meteor, "you and I both know that if that thing hits us, we're all gone. If this is the end, there's no way in hell I'll waste my last moments running away. I've spent my whole life fighting to save a broken world. I won't give up now."

He examined the looming threat in the sky, taking a long drag of his cigarette. The smoke slowly escaped through his nostrils as he listened to my plea. When he lowered his eyes back to mine, the characteristic smirk had returned.

"I gotta hand it to ya, Doc. You got guts, that's for sure."

I gave him a relieved grin, though not without a small pang of guilt. In my little speech, I may have neglected to mention that my motivation for wanting to help wasn't entirely selfless. What I feared the most was meeting the end alone.

I suspected Reno could tell, though. I wondered if he felt the same.

The wind was picking up, whipping his ponytail around and ruffling Elena's neat bob. The smell of ozone was also growing stronger. A storm was approaching. After one last inhalation, Reno tossed the remaining stub onto the ground and crushed it beneath his boot.

"Break's over," he announced. "Let's get to work. You know what to do, guys. Fitz, you're with me."

I gave a mock salute.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Reno made a face and cringed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he groaned, "don't you start. It's bad enough the rookie does it."

Beside him, I noticed a distinct reddening of Elena's cheeks. Her eyes narrowed and her fists tightened, but she stayed silent. If the redhead picked up on it too – as I'm sure he did – it didn't affect him in the slightest.

"So, this is Midgar," Reno said with a wry smile as we picked our way along the damaged street toward the nearest evacuation point of our assigned sector. "Told ya it looked better from up high."

"I don't think I'd want to be up there right now, though," I mumbled, glancing up at the ruins of Shinra HQ looming behind us.

"Got a point there, Doc."

"What happened?"

"One of the Weapons. Blew HQ sky high. That's when Superbitch and Fatso made their move. While everyone was runnin' 'round like headless chocobos, they took over Shinra and locked Reeve up."

I paled and whipped my head around to stare at Reno. The executive hadn't mentioned anything like that to me.

"Shit, really? Reeve's okay, though, isn't he?"

"Yeah, your new AVALANCHE buddies got him out. Snuffed Heidegger and Scarlet while they were at it. Did the world a huge favor in my book, yo."

"They're dead?"

I might have found the Cheshire grin on his face inappropriate, had my relief at the news not been so palpable.

"Yup! Thought ya might like that. I sure as hell do. It gets better, tho'. While all this shit was goin' down, Hojo was busy cookin' up some mad scheme, by the sound of things. AVALANCHE got rid of that freak too."

I slowly shook my head. This was too much at once.

"Damn. You've been busy in this universe."

"Interestin' times, yo."

We soon met up with Reeve's evacuation crew for the sector. This close to Sector 0, the city was demolished. Buildings lay in ruins, while rubble and destroyed vehicles cluttered the streets. Most of it was due to debris falling from Shinra HQ, rather than the Weapon's attack itself. I couldn't imagine what it had been like at the time. There must have been hundreds of casualties.

Reno handled the talking, though there was very little of it before we – that is, Sparky and I – were put to work clearing out rubble that kept the rescuers out of a crumpled building. Even with the suit's impaired exoskeleton, I cleared a path in less time than it would have taken the entire rescue team. It was still half an hour's hard work. Once the job was done, I sat down for a bit of a breather.

"Hey," Reno greeted as he approached, then nodded toward the building I had been working on. "Good job, Fitz."

"Thanks," I said with a faint smile. "Most of the credit goes to Sparky."

I didn't know what he had been doing, but it was clear from his appearance that he hadn't just been lazing about on his behind. A long dirty smudge had appeared on one cheek and the front of his jacket was covered in dust. He came to a halt beside me, then dug out a carton from a jacket pocket and shook out a single cigarette.

"My last one," Reno mused, holding it up between his fingertips for inspection before his gaze wandered onward to the darkened sky. He smirked darkly. "Best make the most of it, huh."

He smoked in silence, his face devoid of emotion. The observant eyes wandered over the destruction around us, the brightly-colored rescue teams scattered among it, and the menace in the sky. I wondered what he was thinking. The Turks seemed to act under the assumption that the threat of Meteor would be thwarted, but did Reno really think we would survive this?

Did I?

After a month and a half of planning what was ultimately supposed to be my own demise, my sense of hope was buried deep. I wouldn't go digging for it. All things considered, it was better to live in the moment than waste time wishing for a future that might not come.

Reeve's rescue teams were taking care of the people trapped inside the collapsed building, so Reno and I joined the group canvassing the blocks further away. We were assigned to one of the main streets leading toward the outer rim of the plate, mostly lined with residential buildings. Reno whined about the lack of shops to raid for more cigarettes. It had been less than half an hour since his last one, and the man's nerves were already fraying. This would be a long afternoon.

My suit seemed to unnerve people. At some point a disturbing thought occurred to me: what if others were as freaked out about a robotic humanoid pile of scrap metal as I was of robotic spiders? After that, I kept the helmet off unless absolutely necessary.

For the most part, I just guided people toward the nearest evacuation point. This late in the evacuation process, the ones remaining were reluctant to leave for one reason or another. Many were angry about having to do so. All of them were afraid. Once the electrical storm started I even had to physically escort a few back to Reeve's people. They were just too terrified to think straight.

Further away from Shinra HQ, the buildings were in better condition, but a few times I had to put Sparky to use to clear a path for trapped souls. These were the appreciative ones; the ones I cherished. It was a different world in different circumstances, but their gratitude helped ease my conscience.

Meanwhile, Reno tackled the task with his usual level of compassion and tact.

"The fuck ya holed up in there for?" I heard him shout from several buildings over, not long after we had started. "Evac station's two blocks that way. Get those kids outta here, yo!"

While I couldn't make out the words of the reply, it was clear the owner of the voice wasn't too pleased with his approach.

"Look, lady, if you don't get all of your asses under the plate on the double, you're gonna have a lot more to worry 'bout than my fuckin' language. Get goin' already! Chop chop!"

I could have told him to tone it down, but knowing his rebellious nature, it would just have had the opposite effect. I chose to preserve the eardrums of Reno's future targets, not to mention my own.

A couple of hours later, I was checking the rooms of yet another half-collapsed, abandoned home. It was empty, like most of the others. On my way out, a colorful little cardboard box on the kitchen table caught my eye; a half-full carton of cigarettes, of the brand favored by the Turk. I grabbed the pack on a whim, hushing the inner voice that was trying to say something about stealing, and offered it to Reno when we met up again. His eyes went wide and lit up with glee.

"Shit, you're a lifesaver, babe."

I raised an eyebrow in amusement as he snatched the pack out of my fingers.

"You do realize those will kill you?"

"Yeah?" he asked with a smoke already wedged between his lips. "Well, right now it looks like that thing's gonna get 'round to it first." He pointed to Meteor with the hand holding his prize while the other dug around his pocket in an impatient search for his lighter. "If we live through this, go ahead and nag me all ya want, but 'til that fucker's outta the sky, I'm gonna inhale every single cancer stick I can get my hands on."

"Fair enough, I suppose."

I decided to wait for him. Soon, I noticed that Reno was watching me instead of the scenery. I sent him a quizzical look. He shrugged.

"The helmet's cool and all, but you look better without it."

Just like that, a flock of butterflies appeared in my belly, challenging the numbness inside with their fluttery wings.

"That's funny, because earlier today, someone told me I look like shit."

His lips twitched. "Yeah? What a jackass."

"Oh, I don't know," I said with a small chuckle. "He's probably right."

"Still a jackass, yo."

Halfway through his cigarette, Reno checked his watch and declared it was time for a proper break. We made our way back toward the ruins of Shinra HQ to find Rude already waiting. Soon after, Elena showed up too. Meteor and its effects on the weather made the communication networks patchy at best, which I assumed was why the Turks opted for a face-to-face meeting.

After a bit of breaking and entering to access the nearest charging station for Shinra's robotic minions, and a few minutes of reciprocal reporting while my suit recharged, Reno decided to fill in the others on his personal trials and tribulations on the mission.

"Man, this job sucks," he sighed, bringing his cigarette to his lips and taking a drag. "People are fuckin' morons, and just get pissed off at ya when you're tryin' to help."

"Gee, I wonder why," I muttered under my breath.

Elena had more to say. Perhaps Reno's voice had carried all the way to Sector 3.

"Maybe if you tried to be friendly, sir, you would have less trouble with the civilians."

The redhead shot her an incredulous look.

"Friendly? Why the hell would I be friendly? I want 'em to fuck off as soon as possible, not stay for fuckin' tea and biscuits."

"Sir, I'm just saying that a tactful approach–"

"What, I gotta cry a goddamn river for every poor dumbass who's gotta leave their home? We're all losin' our homes! Cryin' about it ain't gonna change the fact that these idiots need to get the fuck off the plate."

He griped in the tone one might expect for something about as serious as than the coffee running out in the break room, but not even Reno could fully mask what was going on inside. As the day went on, it had become more and more evident in fleeting shadows across his eyes, in the tense set of his shoulders. It was there now, in the note of dejection sneaking into his voice.

Reno sent the blonde a dirty look at the end of his rant.

"And quit it with the 'sir' crap already. You're makin' me feel like an old man, yo."

Elena's response was not at all what I expected.

"But sir, you already whine like an old man."

Oh, what a beautiful deadpan. I snorted and quickly turned my head to hide the grin that appeared upon seeing Elena's wide-eyed, innocent expression. My gaze landed on Rude, who wisely chose to remain silent, but couldn't stop the twitch of his lips.

I wasn't sure if it had been her purpose, but it knocked Reno out of his funk. He stared at her, his mouth hanging open, then turned his narrowed eyes on me.

"This is your doin', ain't it?" he grumbled, pointing at me with the two fingers holding his cigarette. "You're rubbin' off on her."

I decided it best to neither confirm nor deny.

After the shared break, we split up again. I sighed, but disconnected the charging cable and picked myself up from the ground. It had been a long day, and it would be longer still.

Chapter Text

The last stretch of work ended up being no more than a few hours. The damage done by the Weapon, combined with the unreliable lighting caused by the ailing power grid, made the city streets too dangerous to navigate in the dark.

"That's enough for one day, Fitz," Reno said when I met up with him after a sweep of the buildings on our current block. He gave me a weary smirk. "Guess since your place is outta the question, we gotta take this party to mine, yo."

The Turk wasn't just joking around. As he led the way to Sector 5, we met up with Elena and Rude. She was carrying what looked like a pile of towels. I was too tired to inquire.

"The whole sector's been on some kinda jury-rigged power supply after AVALANCHE blew the reactor," Reno explained on the way, "but it's the only one that's been reliable since Meteor got too close. Go figure. Rude's place was in Five too, but it got trashed when the Weapon blasted HQ to bits."

I found my mind drifting from one idle, pointless thought to another. The scenery blended together into a colorless mass of asphalt, nondescript facades and rubble as we trudged onward on desolate streets. In the silence, the muted squeal of the twisted exoskeleton was audible with every step. I hoped it didn't grate on everyone's nerves as badly as it did on mine.

Reno brought us into a building much like the others on its street, and up a flight of stairs. He strode into his apartment without looking back as soon as he had opened the door. Moments later, a pleasured groan sounded from inside.

The rest of us filed in at a slower pace. The front door led into the living room, where Reno had stretched out on the couch, his dirty boots propped up on one of the armrests. Elena occupied the only chair, while Rude disappeared into the kitchen, judging by the countertop filled with dishes I glimpsed through the doorway.

There were no other seats within view, so I remained standing near the front door, unsure of what to do with myself. The main feature of the living room was a large TV. A bookshelf was laden with colorful magazines, old takeout boxes and a cracked mug filled with bullets, of all things. There were no photos or posters, no books, no knickknacks. It felt more like a company breakroom than a home.

"I believe we haven't met."

I flinched at the sound of a voice beside me. Whipping my head around, I found myself fixed by a pair of emotionless eyes.

"Yo, boss man," Reno said with a halfhearted wave. "This is Therèse FitzEvan. Y'know, the scientist I told ya 'bout? Fitz, say hi to Tseng."

I couldn't help but fidget a little under the scrutiny of Tseng's piercing gaze, but I returned the favor nonetheless. The Director of the Turks was younger than I had expected. The immaculate suit, straight hair and rigid posture provided a sharp contrast to the redhead lounging on the sofa. Not Midgar-born, as far as I could tell; his features suggested he was Wutaian.

At least, that's what Amanda would say. The book Reno had given me used the word Wutainese. I had no way of knowing which was right. I had heard the red-haired Turk himself say "Wutai prick" once, but I doubted that was the politically correct term. Tseng would know, of course, but it didn't seem the right time to ask.

"Hi," I said.

"Doctor," was the calm greeting I received. "You have returned. Does this mean we need to worry about more attacks by your people?"

I wasn't sure if he used the term on purpose to test the waters, but I decided to make my allegiances – or rather, the lack of them – absolutely clear.

"They're not my people, and no, there will be no more attacks. The Gateway has been destroyed."

My information provoked no visible reaction.

"Hm. I see."

"She's cool, Tseng," Reno piped up. "She helped us out with the evac, yo."

His boss looked me over again, his face a mask of control. I had no idea what the man was thinking.

"Reno, a word in private," he said.

The redhead snapped his eyes open to stare at his boss with miffed incredulity.

"Now? I just sat down!"

"You're stretching the word 'sit' far beyond its customary definition. A word. Now."

Tseng strode into a room beside the kitchen. Reno pushed himself off the couch, infusing his every move with petulance, but chose to restrict his audible griping to only one word.

"Balls."

By the doorway, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

"Hey Fitz, the shower's over there if you wanna go first."

He pointed to a door across the room, then followed his boss into what I presumed to be the bedroom. If it was a tactical move to ensure privacy during their talk, it worked. I ripped Sparky off my body at the opportunity to clean myself with running water. When Reno made brief reappearance, it was barely in time to shove a bundle of clothing into my hands before I claimed the bathroom.

The shower was long, scalding hot and utter bliss. I didn't emerge until I was a human prune. The feel of clean clothes was just as heavenly, even though they were designed for men and a size or two too big. As I slipped into them, it finally occurred to me to marvel at such thoughtfulness from the carefree Turk. It gave me the chance to subject my own clothing to much-needed washing, without the daunting prospect of spending the rest of the evening wrapped in a towel in front of strangers.

However, the considerate impression was diminished by the huge grin on Reno's face when I returned to the living room.

"Did ya shrink in the wash, Fitz? You're frickin' tiny!"

I hoisted the sweatpants higher with as much dignity as I could muster – which only brought my toes into view – and sent a dirty look at their owner.

"Says the scrawniest of the Turks."

"Pff, I ain't scrawny. I'm a lean, mean, fightin' machine, yo!"

To prove it, he flung his feet off the armrest and pushed himself off the sofa in a single movement, landing on his feet in front of me. It was impressive, but I made damned sure that particular sentiment wasn't visible on my face. Reno looked me over again with that same goofy smile.

"But you, you're just sorta adorable."

I narrowed my eyes.

"It's funny. I can't tell if you're trying to compliment me or if you just want to piss me off."

"Can't it be both?"

In a dastardly sneak attack, his hand shot out to ruffle my damp hair.

"Hey!"

He danced out of my reach with a gleeful cackle, avoiding my swat, and vanished into the room I had just exited. Deciding my dignity had already suffered enough, I merely glowered after him for a second before plopping myself down on the couch he had vacated. Sitting down, Reno's t-shirt ended up covering half of my thighs, making me feel even more like a bloody hobbit.

"So, you survived."

As I looked over at the pixie-like Elena drowning in the plush chair, I couldn't help but notice that she was smaller than me. Then again, as a Turk she had to be at least fifty times deadlier, too. I supposed that might disqualify her from the adorable camp.

Elena didn't sound or look hostile, but she wasn't friendly either. Curious, mostly, and suspicious. I didn't know how much Reno had told her or the others about me, so I didn't know if she was referring to the attack on HQ or my actions on Earth. Unsure of my position among these Shinra agents, I was loathe to reveal too much.

"Did I? At times I wonder if I just ended up in a very special kind of hell."

With a wry smile, I shifted my gaze toward the bathroom. The muffled sounds of splashing water and off-key singing could be heard through the door. When our eyes met again, there was a faint smile on the other woman's face, too. It didn't eliminate the air of calculating appraisal, though.

"You were pretty vague about your escape earlier."

"There was nothing exact about it."

"Uh huh. Then there's the fact that you were so conveniently delivered to us by known members of another terrorist organization."

"Hm. I suppose I was, yes."

Weeks of hounding by Orca's inquisitors had taught me to be subtler about my dodging, but in this case I didn't bother, hoping she would take the hint. Not that the tactic was working. At this rate I would have to be blunt about it, though I wasn't convinced the direct approach would work either.

It turned out Elena was happy to skip ahead to bluntness.

"Are you evading my questions on purpose?"

Oh, it was too perfect a setup. I couldn't resist the temptation.

"As far as I'm aware, no questions were asked."

I did keep the smugness off my face, though.

That threw her off balance for a moment, but it didn't deter her. Elena's technique may have needed work, but she made up for it with plenty of tenacity.

"Okay, here's one," she challenged, a sour note creeping into her voice. "Their leader wanted you, specifically. Why?"

"I'm a researcher. He wanted something researched."

The sourness was now visible in her expression, too. Well, too bad. As far as I was concerned, we were all Reno's guests, meaning I had no obligations toward this woman. I didn't know her and I wasn't in the mood to relate traumatic experiences to a stranger.

"So, a 'researcher' manages to outsmart and take down a group of terrorists that successfully attacked Shinra HQ, by herself? You understand why I'm skeptical, right?"

Our eyes locked. Hers were brown, too, though a lighter shade than what I would see in the mirror. The stubbornness in them was no doubt more accurately reflected.

As we stared each other down, I could see Elena's internal debate in each little twitch of an eyebrow, every tug at her lips. It occurred to me that I was not the only one uncertain about my standing among the Turks. I suspected my friendly relationship with Reno was the only thing saving me from a full-on interrogation. Oh, irony.

"Elena."

We both turned our heads at the deep voice sounding from the kitchen door.

"A hand, please," Rude rumbled.

The female Turk looked surprised, and in the presence of a senior agent, she lost her composure.

"Oh! Oh, of course," she babbled, scrambling out of the chair. "I'll be right with you."

I hadn't noticed how much tension had been in the air, until it fizzled out upon Rude's request. I waited until they had both left the room, then slumped back with a long sigh.

A few minutes later the bathroom door opened. I glanced up from the tech magazine I was leafing through and did a double take when I got an eyeful of pale limbs and wiry muscle. One dark blue towel was slung around Reno's hips while he toweled his hair with another. I let my eyes linger on the man's toned abs while he was occupied with the task. It was only fair, I mused, considering he had seen me in my underwear on more than one occasion.

Reno let the second towel slide down around his neck and held onto it with both hands, cocking his head to the side with a puzzled expression as he stepped further into the room. He paused by the couch and peeked into the kitchen, then looked over at me with raised eyebrows.

"Laney givin' ya trouble, Doc?"

It was strange seeing his wet hair, several shades darker than usual, hang limp around his face. Without competition for attention, his pretty eyes looked huge and made him look even younger.

How old was he, anyway? Younger than me, I was certain of that, but I had the nagging suspicion the difference wasn't as great as one might think. Reno's appearance – and manner – was deceiving, in more ways than one.

"I'm surprised you could hear anything over all that singing."

He responded to my smile with a boyish grin.

"Nah, couldn't hear a thing, but I know Rude. The rookie started givin' ya a hard time, right?"

Now that was an unexpected turn. At the time, it hadn't occurred to me to read anything into Rude's actions. I didn't know what to make of it. I glanced over at the kitchen, but all I could glimpse was Elena setting the table, chattering at the bald man.

"She was asking questions," I admitted. "About James and Orca."

Reno grimaced, then wiped his face with the end of the towel to catch a few drops trickling down over his forehead.

"Sorry 'bout that, Fitz," he said through the terry cloth. "Laney's still a bit too eager 'bout the job and she doesn't know about... Well, y'know."

"How we first met?"

He let the towel fall, but kept his eyes toward the kitchen.

"Yeah," he said flatly. "I'll tell her to ease up."

"Don't worry about it." I was on the verge of continuing with it wasn't as bad as that time, but caught my blunder at the last second. "I imagine there will be official questions eventually," I said instead.

Assuming we would live through the week, of course, though I left that part unsaid. Everyone may have been thinking it, but no one wanted to say it out loud.

"Hard to say." An odd, faraway look appeared in his eyes. "Shinra as we know it is finished, so nothin's 'official' anymore."

I detected a melancholy note, maybe even concern. Reno didn't say much about his past, but I gathered that his job as a Shinra Turk had brought him stability and security. While I was convinced that less power in the hands of the Shinra Electric Power Company could only be a good thing, it occurred to me that the change came with a high cost for its employees.

"I know the boss man has questions," he continued, "but that'll be more like a debrief than anythin'. I'm sure Reeve can sit in with ya for that, if you like."

"Why not you?"

I voiced the first thought that popped into my mind, though the reason became apparent to me half a second later. Reno was caught off guard. I suspected it was less the suggestion itself and more the fact that I had made it in the first place. I surprised myself, to be honest, but I was glad I did. After all, my reward was seeing one of those rare, genuine smiles on his face.

"Eh, whatever. It's nothin' you need to worry 'bout right now."

If it hadn't been such a foreign sentiment to pin on the ostentatious Turk, I would have said he seemed a bit flustered. He averted his gaze with the pretext of noticing his state of dress, or rather, undress.

"Anyway, best put on some clothes before I shock Laney with my sinfully sexy body, yo."

I smirked.

"But it's okay to shock me?"

"You? Shocked?" He laughed. "Oh, baby, you can't fool me with that sweet, innocent face of yours. You like whatcha see."

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. While admittedly there was some truth to it, I rolled my eyes on principle.

"Go find your pants already, Turk."

Once the others had taken their turns in the shower, it was time for us all to squeeze around Reno's tiny kitchen table like a dysfunctional family. I was the only one dressed with such thorough informality, although everyone except Tseng had discarded their jackets. Rude had even rolled up his sleeves while cooking; that, more than anything, helped me feel more at ease during the meal.

Reno provided most of the chitchat, which came as a surprise to no one. Rude, on the other hand, proved himself to be a man of hidden talents by conjuring up dinner for us all with the meager stores of his coworker's kitchen. It would have been a decent meal by any standards, but for someone who had subsisted on dried rations for a month and a half – not to mention persevering through a day of hard work on scavenged candy bars – it was downright amazing.

Reno's apartment was tidier than I had expected; I wondered if Rude had something to do with that, too. My impression of Elena suggested she was too awed by her senior colleagues to touch the private belongings of one of them on her own initiative, but also had enough of a backbone to tell Reno off if he tried to make her clean. I could picture the aloof Tseng as something of a neat freak, but not in someone else's abode. Rude, on the other hand, seemed quite at home in the redhead's apartment and possessed some domestic skills, making him the likeliest candidate.

Besides, who could resist the mental image of the burly, stoic man with a frilly apron and a feather duster in hand?

After dinner, Tseng excused himself and retired to the bedroom; he was still on the mend from his injuries, Reno explained. He said nothing about their private discussion, but I decided not to waste energy by worrying about his boss. Until I was told otherwise, I would assume my presence wasn't unwelcome.

The rest of us moved into the living room, where Elena set out to clean her gun, while Reno occupied himself by trying to figure out the reason for Sparky's wonky leg. He soon had me going through the mechanics of the exoskeleton with him. He roped Rude into helping out as well.

"Don't worry, Rude's pretty good when it comes to tinkerin' with stuff. You should see some of the flashy fireworks he's put together, yo."

Aided by the excited gleam in Reno's eyes, I translated that to mean that the bald man was the resident bomb expert. How that piece of information was supposed to make me feel comfortable about him working on my suit was beyond me. However, watching the large Turk carefully dismantle the damaged section of the exoskeleton, I had to admit he knew how to handle tools and small mechanical parts. Between the three of us, the bent part was straightened out, reattached and oiled to blissful silence.

"Thank fuck," Reno announced with no small amount of satisfaction when the job was done. "That squeaky limp was drivin' me nuts all day."

Rude seemed pleased with his work as well. It was hard to tell, though, as he was still wearing his sunglasses. Indoors. At night. As odd as it was, he was in like-minded company, as Reno's goggles were also perched on his forehead. I decided to chalk it up to Turk quirks.

At that point, my eyes were falling shut on their own accord. The Turks left the bedroom to their injured chief, so we all shared the living room for the night. I had no complaints, not even about the whistling winds and frequent thunderclaps of another storm raging outside. The thin mattress on the floor, accompanied by three others, seemed like a delight simply by virtue of being above ground and near a window. The accursed sleeping pod I had been forced to sleep in during my stay with Orca – more like a bloody high-tech coffin, if you asked me – would no doubt haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.

I got the spot furthest away from the bedroom, next to Reno, and plunged into sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

My eyes flew open with a start, a small, choked sound escaping the back of my throat. I jolted upright and snapped my head from side to side, but saw nothing except the dimly lit rectangle of an uncovered window. Outside, I could see stormy clouds, buildings; inside, I heard the steady breathing of others sleeping nearby.

It had just been a dream. Haunting, suffocating, but not real. I hugged my legs to my chest and tried to slow my ragged breaths.

"Bad dreams, huh?"

Disoriented as I was, I couldn't place the owner of the quiet voice. Startled, I looked around until I spotted an orange glow near the window. The glow flared for a moment and I could make out Reno's face in the shadows, taking a drag from a cigarette.

"Yes," I admitted, my voice still a little shaky, and rested my chin on my knees.

The redhead hummed and returned his gaze to the scenery outside. We sat in silence for a while. He was seated by the open window, close enough to look out and occasionally flick ash out of it, though the man himself stayed cloaked in shadow. I wondered if he was obeying some deep-rooted Turk instinct to keep away from open windows. Maybe I had just seen too many spy movies.

Once my eyes had adjusted to the dim, his white shirt almost seemed to glow in the darkness, tinted red in Meteor's sinister light. His long bare legs were stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles, and a pack of smokes twirled in the fingers of the hand that was resting against his thigh.

"Go back to sleep, Fitz. You'll need it."

I couldn't follow his suggestion, not with the nightmare still fresh in my mind. Instead, I got up and tiptoed over to the window on bare feet.

"And you don't?" I asked as I looked over the deserted street outside the window, keeping my voice as low as his.

The storm had abated, leaving an eerie stillness behind. I couldn't help but feel there was something ominous about it. One last lull before a final onslaught.

It should have been much colder, considering it was January; that was what Elena had told me earlier during one of the few short times I had traded words with the other woman. Subzero at night, maybe even a layer of snow covering the cityscape above-plate. As it was, it felt like a mild autumn day. Meteor was playing havoc with the weather, too.

"Yeah, well, my dreams ain't that great either," Reno said, bringing the smoke to his lips for another long inhale.

I looked up at the harbinger filling the sky. It was huge now. Was this world damned as well? Had I survived impossible odds just to perish on another planet? Worse still, had I condemned the people on Earth for nothing? I shivered and hugged myself tighter.

Reno flicked the stub of his cigarette out of the window and got to his feet without a sound.

"C'mon, let's go to the kitchen if you're gonna be stubborn 'bout it. Don't wanna wake the others, yo."

After one more glance at Meteor, I followed him. Once he had closed the door behind me, Reno flipped on the light above the sink. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut, raising a hand to shield them from the sudden brightness.

"Oops. Guess I should've warned ya, huh."

When I opened them again, he had opened a cupboard and was removing a bottle from an upper shelf.

"Want a drink? It's the cheap stuff, but hey, booze is booze."

"Sure."

I wasn't very fond of hard liquor, but maybe a stiff drink was just what I needed to soothe my rattled nerves. The redhead fetched a tumbler from another shelf and put it down on the counter with a soft clink. He yawned as he poured a generous dram, sliding a hand through his hair to push it out of his drowsy eyes and muss it up in the back. Had I ever seen the man without his goggles before? The hair was liberated from its usual ponytail, too, instead clinging to his shoulders and back in crimson disarray. It looked even longer like this.

"Hope you don't want ice, 'cause there ain't any," Reno said as he handed the glass to me.

"It's fine like this. Thanks."

I took a tentative sip and made a face as the liquid burned down my throat, then stood in the middle of the kitchen, one arm snug around my waist and the alcohol gripped in the hand of the other, feeling rather out of place. At what point did having a drink in someone's kitchen become extraordinary? My life had careened so far from normality that I had forgotten how I was supposed to act in a situation like this.

By contrast, the Turk seemed perfectly at ease, despite wearing nothing but boxer briefs under the wrinkled dress shirt, which was held together by a few middle buttons. As if to emphasize the impression, he leaned back against the counter and took a casual swig straight from the bottle. He grimaced and set the whiskey down, then turned his half-lidded eyes to me. He smirked as he looked me over.

"You look pretty ridiculous in that getup, Fitz."

Despite being such a skinny guy, Reno's sweatpants had bunched up around my waist when I pulled the string tight enough to keep them from falling down. The t-shirt was loose, too, its sleeves touching my elbows. I shot him a dark look.

"You gave it to me. Blame yourself."

"Couldn't have ya run around naked, fun as that might be. Gotta put in some effort to look good 'round the boss, yo."

"Says the man in underpants."

"I'm wearing a shirt, ain't I? That's pretty damn respectable for fuckin' four o'clock in the morning."

He grinned and I responded with a chuckle, taking another gulp of my drink. The second mouthful was just as bad as the first. I tilted the glass back and forth, watching the amber liquid swirl around while I forced the second sip down. Whisky had been James' favorite, preferably Scotch, preferably Highland; as particular about his drink as he had been about his technical minutiae. I had looked into buying him a bottle once. Even the youngest ones had been fifty years old and worth a month's salary.

And now James was dead. My jaw grew tight and my fingers flattened against the glass surface, knuckles whitening.

I thought of Anita, of the poor man I had injured, of all the faces I had been surrounded by in the past weeks. Without the protection of the blast doors, the Gateway explosion must have obliterated the whole floor. It was likely enough to collapse the whole underground structure. Anyone evacuated to the surface would find themselves without supplies or shelter. Stranded in the middle of a wasteland, with no hope of a rescue.

Fourteen years ago, humanity on Earth had been building starships. There had been projects aiming to revitalize the soil, to create more resistant crops. Even without the Gateway, there had been hope. What was left for humanity now?

"I'd appreciate it if you could, y'know, not crush that glass. It's my last nice one, yo."

Reno's voice brought me back to the present. I blinked furiously and downed the rest of the alcohol in one go, squeezing my eyes shut in a grimace as I gulped it down, then set the glass down on the table behind me. Reno snorted and raised his eyebrows.

"Sheesh, didn't mean you had to choke it down like that, babe."

My throat was on fire. What pathetic penance for what I had done.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were supposed to help people."

I sensed a change in the air as soon as I had blurted it out. It was enough to make me falter, but I couldn't stop anymore.

"No one should have died except me, but it went wrong. It all went so wrong, but I just kept going, I had to, or I thought I had to... And I... I killed him. I killed all those people. I killed them!"

Reno stayed still as the words kept tumbling out, leaning back with his hands on the edge of the counter as before, but the sleepy countenance was gone. His eyes were watchful, never straying from my face.

"And now you gotta suck it up and move on. Sucks, don't it?"

It was an impassive proclamation, not comfort or advice. A statement of fact, based on personal experience. Brutal honesty. I should have expected nothing less. Why sugarcoat the truth when we both knew what I was?

"I ain't sayin' it's gonna be easy, and I'm sorry you had to find out what it's like," he continued after a moment's pause, with a more contemplative tone than I was used to hearing from him. "But you're a survivor, Fitz, and a damn stubborn one. We got that much in common. You'll get through it."

I glanced sideways out through the window. Meteor wasn't directly visible this far from the pane, but the view was painted red with its gloom. It was a matter of days now, perhaps even hours. My struggle would be short. The remnants of humanity on Earth would not be blessed with such a swift end.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Is it ever what it's s'posed to be? It is what it is. That's all there's to it."

"It is what it is because of what I did. Did I..." My voice failed me, shrinking to a whisper. "Did I do the right thing?"

Reno barked a cynical laugh.

"Sweetie, I'm the worst person to ask about right and wrong."

I stared out the window. Ever since it had sunk in that I had escaped the fate I had brought down on the others, the guilt, the relief, the shame, the anger and all the feelings I couldn't even name had coalesced into a hard ball of hurt in my chest. Now it was gnawing at me, creating a hole that left me both numb and raw at the same time. I didn't know how to stop it. It would grow and grow, until there was nothing else left.

Reno sighed.

"Look, there's no point beatin' yourself up 'bout that sorta thing. It ain't always about right and wrong. Sometimes life gives ya nothin' but different kinds of shit to choose from, and you just gotta pick one and move on."

C'est la vie. I turned my gaze down to the floor and pressed my arms tighter against my stomach, blinking away tears, again and again. I knew Reno had a point, but that didn't make me feel better.

I saw bare feet step into my field of vision only a split second before I felt a hand touch my hair. He tucked my head under his chin, stroking the back of it. His other hand found my shoulder, his fingers kneading with an unhurried pace, coaxing the tension out of my muscles.

"I know you've had a rough time. I know you didn't want any of this, but... It ain't all bad, is it?"

I wanted to tell him that yes, yes it was, that I had failed and had nothing left and it hurt so damned much inside, but the words died before I could form them. It was his voice. Reno's world was falling apart, both metaphorically and literally, yet for the first time since I met him, I heard hope in his voice. It made me stop and think. Then, it made me stop thinking.

Reno was so close that I could sense the heat radiating from his body. I pressed my eyes shut and let it seep in to take the edge off the hollow ache in my chest. I hadn't realized how much I craved a touch from another human being.

"No," I mumbled. "It's not all bad."

He took a slow, deep breath. When I did the same, the scent that surrounded me was all his; shower-clean, tinged with the smell of his shampoo and the cigarette he had smoked. I liked it, I liked being near him. For just a second or two, I let myself enjoy the luxury of feeling safe.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you made the choice ya did," he murmured. "Not just 'cause it gave my world one less headache to worry 'bout, but because it brought ya back here, alive and in one piece."

My breath caught in my chest. There it was. A glimpse of a life that could be, the tiniest sliver of a future.

All too soon Reno pulled away, though he let his hand linger on my neck as he peered into my face.

"Chin up, eh, Fitz? You didn't come all this way to give up now. You said so yourself, yo."

"Yes," I said with a brittle smile. "I did, didn't I?"

"That's my girl." After a gentle squeeze, he let his hand fall to the side. "It gets easier, y'know, once you let it go."

I shook my head slowly.

"How can I do that?"

The question was rhetorical, but Reno answered anyway.

"'Fraid I don't have an answer for ya. Still workin' on it myself, I guess."

He flashed a wry smile, then yawned and scratched the back of his head.

"Right. Enough chattin' for one night, eh? C'mon, we can still catch an hour or two of sleep."

Once we had returned to our makeshift beds in the darkness, I stared up at the ceiling, listening to the steady breaths and soft snores of the Turks around me. I went over our talk in my head, mulling over his advice. Different kinds of shit, indeed. If I had allowed Orca to return, there would have been other deaths on my conscience. Perhaps even more deaths. Perhaps the deaths of the people now sharing a room with me.

Reno's unapologetic bluntness had one benefit. When he claimed I would get through this, I could believe him.

With the comfort of that thought, I eventually managed to drift off into a slumber. While not the most restful sleep, it was free of dreams.

For the second time in two days, I woke up to a trembling world. This time, however, the danger was real.

Working on instinct rather than conscious thought, I scrambled for the nearest cover and ended up under the desk next to Elena. I held on to both the table and the other woman, trying my best to remain where I was. Something crashed to the floor and moments later the window exploded almost right above us, making both of us yelp in surprise as a shower of glittering glass hit the floor.

When the tremors ended, Elena let go of me and peeked out from under the desk.

"Everyone okay?" she yelled.

The response was a noncommittal grunt, which sounded like Rude, followed by an indignant shout.

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

I peered out to see Reno stand on the other side of the room in his underpants, looking at the smoking corpse of his TV on the floor.

"I just bought the damn thing. Still s'posed to be under warranty, only the place I got it from was crushed under a chunk of HQ last week. Fuck my life."

Elena crawled out from under the desk and hurried to the bedroom.

"Tseng?" she asked, rushing in without knocking. "Sir, are you all ri–oh! Sorry! Sorry, sorry, I'll just leave now!"

She nearly stumbled over her feet as she backed out of the room, then slammed the door shut and leaned back against it, a horrified look on her beet-red face.

"What's the matter, Laney?" her redheaded colleague asked with an impish grin, instantly perked up by this turn of events. "Get an eyeful of our glorious leader?"

"He wasn't wearing a shirt," she whispered.

Reno's raucous laughter made her turn a darker shade of crimson, though it was unclear whether it was due to his amusement or the fact that she only now seemed to realize she was speaking to a guy in nothing but underwear. She grabbed her uniform and fled to the kitchen.

"We should leave," I said, looking at the cracks in the ceiling with concern. "There will be aftershocks."

"Agreed," Tseng said, emerging from the bedroom fully clothed, making the final adjustments to his tie. "Be ready to move out in ten."

Strapping myself into the armored suit wasn't the quickest process at the best of times, and was made even worse by stiff, sore muscles and no stand to keep the parts easily accessible. By the time I finished, with some aid from Reno, the others were already waiting for me. Once we got out into the street, though, I was glad I had it. The air was filled with thick smoke and several buildings along the street were on fire. Terrified civilians scurried past, heading for the train station, as we each surveyed the destruction.

"Shit, man, look at this mess," Reno said hesitantly. "How are we gonna get everyone out in time?"

"This is..." Elena sighed and fell silent.

"Bad," Rude finished for her.

Bad, indeed. My heart sank as I scanned the surroundings, seeing no signs of the neon yellow and orange of Reeve's rescue teams. This was way beyond checking near-empty buildings and guiding people to evacuation points. There were only five of us. What were we supposed to do?

"You're not giving up, are you?"

Spinning around at the sound of the authoritative voice behind us, we were greeted by an unexpected sight. There must have been a dozen men and women behind us, all clad in the same dark Turk suit.

"Holy fuckin' shit," I heard Reno breathe next to me.

I would never have thought I would see such a collective display of stunned surprise from a group of hardened agents like the four Turks in my company. Reno's face shone with an endearing mix of disbelief and childlike happiness, the likes of which I hadn't seen since my sister got a bike for her sixth birthday.

"I don't fuckin' believe it," he grinned. "That fucker in the sky's gotta be playin' with my head. First Fitz shows up outta nowhere and now you guys? I gotta be trippin' balls, yo."

The same sentiment was apparent on the faces of Tseng and Rude. I couldn't see Elena's, because she was embracing someone, but the other woman's features were visible. The family resemblance was unmistakable. My chest tightened and I had to look away. Some wounds never healed.

These had to be the Turks that had vanished. I felt rather awkward as I watched the smiles and shoulder claps. I wasn't a part of this reunion, but under the circumstances I couldn't just walk away and let them have their moment in private. So there I stood, all too conscious of every curious glance being sent my way, grateful for the shelter provided by the helmet's mirrored surface.

Screams rang out from a building across the street, bringing an abrupt end to the greetings. The Turks reacted with decisive speed. Teams sprang into action at Tseng's command and spread out along the streets.

Mine was assigned to one of the burning buildings, where one of the newly-arrived Turks snuffed out the flames on the first floor by calling forth blasts of ice. I had seen some of the rescue workers heal people with a green glow the day before, but this was the first time I had seen such primal magic in use. I slowed to a halt, watching her work, but an impatient Reno spurred me into action.

"C'mon, Fitz, while we're young! You're the only one who can get in there while the smoke is this thick. Move!"

Move I did, and so began the most precarious rescue operation I had ever been a part of. Meteor was so close it seemed it would touch the top of Shinra HQ's ruined tower at any moment. We could no longer see the sky. It was madness, staying to help while the city shuddered and crumbled around us, yet the Turks remained at their posts and I with them.

I moved rubble, I carried the injured, I dragged people out of burning buildings, until everything began to blend together into a hell of flames and smoke and blood. Sparky's cooling system was failing, its air filters were congested by ash and dust. The visor had been cracked by debris from an explosion, compromising the airtight seal. My lungs burned, every fiber of muscle ached, and I could barely stay upright during the frequent tremors.

Reno worked tirelessly, like a man possessed. As we pulled the living and the dead from the flames, I kept seeing the faces I left behind on Earth. I wondered whose faces he saw.

After yet another of the earthquakes, his voice cut through the ringing in my ears. I glanced up to see Reno standing across the street, next to Rude. I thought I could see a trickle of blood along one cheek, but it was hard to be sure with all the scarlet hair stuck to the sides of his sweaty face. His shoulders sagged and his suit was in a state far beyond saving, but the eyes gleamed bright blue, fierce and ready.

"Yo, Fitz!" he shouted, waving me over. "We need somethin' from HQ and might need your help gettin' there. You up for it?"

I gave him a tired nod. A trip to Shinra HQ through the obstacle course of concrete and rebar littering the streets sounded like a walk in the park at this point.

We were almost at our destination when the ground shook again. This time, however, I was nearly blinded as a stream of pure light shot through the sky, blocking out the red glow of Meteor with bright white. I stared in baffled awe, until strong fingers gripped my arm and yanked me back into motion.

"C'mon, we gotta run!"

I was half-pulled into the lobby of Shinra HQ and onwards, trying to blink the dancing spots out of my eyes. When I was able to see straight again, I found myself crammed inside a toilet stall with Reno.

"Why does this have to happen now," he groaned, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

My mind was racing, thinking back on what I had just witnessed. What the hell had happened? That had not been a normal earthquake. Could that energy have been...?

I slammed the stall door open and ran out of the room, ignoring Reno's startled protest.

"I refuse to die in a fucking toilet!" I yelled without looking back.

If this was the end, I wanted to see everything.

I slowed down as I reached the lobby and approached the front doors. Brightness poured through the shattered glass of the facade, weaving spider webs of light across the unsteady floor. My pulse hammered in my ears as each cautious step brought me closer to the lightshow, until the doors parted and granted me an unobstructed view.

Stepping through, I tore off my cracked helmet to see every last detail with my own eyes, instantly greeted by the sharp tang of ozone and other. I didn't register the dull clang as the helmet hit the asphalt, nor the rapid footsteps behind me. I was mesmerized by this light that moved with a life of its own, bursting forth from the ground and dancing to the rhythm of the tremors it created across the defeated city.

"It's the fuckin' Lifestream!" Reno cried.

The air hummed with electricity, making my skin crawl and tingle even through the suit, as tendrils of pale green energy flowed and congregated before our eyes.

The Lifestream. The essence of all past and future existence, the lifeblood of Gaia. After decades of wasting away on a dying, defeated world, I had no words for the emotions that overwhelmed me as I watched this planet come to life and fight back.

"This is the best," I heard Rude rumble somewhere behind me. It must have been the longest sentence I had heard from the man.

As I slowly spun in the light, stunned by the staggering display of Gaia's might, my eyes locked with Reno's. I received a smile, accompanied by a tender gaze, and then he was right beside me. Warm, chafed lips pressed a kiss to my temple, followed by an arm wrapped around my shoulders. Such simple actions, yet they shifted my heart into a whole new gear.

"Enjoy the show, babe. You ain't gonna see this twice."

We shared another glance, then together, we turned our attention to the drama in the sky, watching as the Lifestream battled Meteor. My eyes were glued to the spectacle above, but I heard the gasp and felt Reno's hold tighten as Meteor was pushed back. I could hardly breathe while I watched pure white combine with the green glow of the Lifestream, the two energies coming together for a final blow so bright it forced my eyes shut.

Only once the light began to fade, did I realize I was hanging onto him just as tightly as he held me. I looked at Reno, and he looked at me. His eyes glittered with pure excitement, while tears were flowing from mine. He grinned, I laughed and we embraced.

Meteor was gone. We were still alive, on a world that was still alive. A world that was wounded, but could recover. One that would recover. However I could, I would make damned sure of that.