Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I heard he killed someone," a girl behind Cissnei whispered, loud enough to reach the ears of half the class.

Cissnei sat at her desk, nodding and smiling at her neighbor on the right like an attentive friend should, but it was the group behind her that she was tuned in to.

"Uh huh. I'll bet it was his own family, too." Cissnei could hear the eye-roll in the second girl's voice.

"I'm serious! They said that's how he got that scar."

The new boy was sitting at the end of her row. As she pretended to listen to her chattering neighbor, Cissnei studied his profile with surreptitious glances over the girl's shoulder. The first thing she had noticed was the scruffy hair, bright red and sticking out every which way. The second was the jagged scar on his face. It wasn't very large – it began near the corner of his eye and curved down about an inch – but the dark pink of scar tissue stuck out against his pasty skin like spattered blood on snow.

"No, that's not it," said a third girl from the group behind her. "I heard he got transferred here because he stabbed a teacher!"

"Transferred from where?" a fourth asked amidst the chorus of theatrical gasps and hushed declarations of "no!"

"The slums, I guess."

"They have high schools in the slums?"

It was possible, Cissnei thought. He wore the same short-sleeved shirt, bright blue sweater vest and beige trousers as the other boys, but the school uniform hung loose on his body and his hollow cheeks contrasted sharply with his pronounced cheekbones. She didn't know much about the slum city underneath the plate of Midgar, but when people talked about it, they always insisted how bad it was down there. Everyone was hungry and poor and miserable, and would probably kill you for the small change in your pockets.

The girls' home matron had been especially fond of repeating it. How lucky Cissnei was, to have Shinra look after her. How lucky she was to have had a dad who'd made sure she would have an education even if he never came back from the war. Otherwise, she might have ended up down below with all the thieves and murderers.

Lucky, lucky her.

"He's a slum rat?" girl number four wondered, disappointment coloring her voice. "But slum rats smell, don't they?"

The others broke out in a fit of giggles.

"Gods, Trinny! You've already sniffed him?"

"No! Ew, don't be disgusting! I just... walked past him on my way here, and didn't smell anything."

Cissnei wondered if he could hear them. Their coy glances and stage whispers were far from subtle, but he kept his face blank, his half-lidded eyes aimed forward. Now that she was getting used to the scar, her furtive peeks picked up on other details. A hoop pierced the lobe of his ear. His eyebrow was a straight line, slanted down toward a nose with a slightly upturned tip. His mouth formed another line –  an indifferent one, curving neither up nor down.

He didn't strike her as a murderer. Maybe he was a thief, then.

Not that she would know what murderers looked like. She knew they were sent to prison, though, and not to a Shinra-owned high school in Sector 1.

"What I want to know is why he's in our class," said the second girl. "He's too old. He looks more like a senior, right?"

"Well, duh. He's from the slums."

Before the other girl could explain what she meant by that, Mr. Nesbitt opened the door and the room filled with a flurry of shuffling feet and scraping chairs.

"Good morning, everyone," the teacher said as he lifted books out of a cardboard box and piled them on his desk. "You know the drill. No scribbling, no doodling, no folding. I want these back after class in perfect condition."

Cissnei timed her approach so that she arrived at the desk at the same time as the new guy. He was half a head taller than most of the boys, and she herself only reached his shoulder. As they both reached for their books, she inhaled deeply. The girl behind her had been right. He didn't smell.

Mr. Nesbitt gave him a long stare, she noticed. The boy noticed it too, and responded with a fleeting smile. It wasn't a friendly one. He strolled back and dropped the book on his desk, then slumped down in his seat and tilted his chair back, swaying on its back legs. Mr. Nesbitt's eyes narrowed.

"We'll continue where we left off last time," he said once everyone was back at their desks. "Page forty-five. Mr. Reno. You may begin."

A hush descended on the classroom. The red-haired boy went still and looked up.

"Huh? Ya talkin' to me?"

"Chapter four, page forty-five. From the top."

Reno raised his eyebrows and looked down at the book, then up again. He snorted.

"Forget it. I ain't readin' shit."

"Language!" the teacher barked, dropping his breezy lilt for a second. "And why would that be, Mr. Reno?"

The boy shrugged. "This story sucks, yo."

If anyone else had made that comment, everyone would have chortled with glee. Now the air simmered with stifled laughter and bated breath.

"While I'm glad to hear you have an opinion on the book," Mr. Nesbitt said, "the discussion comes after the text has been read out loud. Read the chapter, or explain your refusal to the principal."

"The hell's your problem?"

The teacher sighed and nodded at the door.

"You're dismissed, Mr. Reno. Enjoy your chat with Principal Hart."

Grinning, the boy rose to his feet and strolled over to the door without the slightest sign of hurry. The classroom erupted in whispers and hushed giggles, but Cissnei watched him in silence. He didn't appear to care at all. As if he didn't feel. She was intrigued.

"All right, everyone, settle down! Ms. Rui. Chapter four, page forty-five. Begin, please."

The red-haired boy was in her Biology class, too, and Algebra. He didn't speak with anyone, and no one made the attempt to speak with him. He slouched through the classes with an air of nonchalance, so deep in his chair and his eyelids so heavy that at first glance he appeared to be napping. He wasn't, though. By the third class, she was convinced of it. He never closed his eyes, not fully, and at times she caught them moving beneath his lids, scanning his surroundings.

Cissnei's curiosity grew. As the day went on, she watched and listened, unnoticed by others. She was very good at that, yet she learned nothing about this new boy. No one knew who he was. No one had heard where he came from.

There were rumors, of course. Lots and lots of rumors. Cissnei had listened to enough gossip to know not to pay it much mind. Usually it said more about the people spreading the rumors than the one they were gossiping about.

In this case, the gossip told her that Reno made people nervous. Afraid, even. She wasn't sure why. He wasn't the only student from the slums. They were shunned, too, and kept to their own group, but not even they wanted to go near Reno. He sauntered down the hallways, untouched and unbothered, like a shark coasting past schools of fry.

Sharks never slept, her dad had told her once, and they never closed their eyes. Sharks never stopped gliding through the seas, hunting and feeding, and they never felt fear. They didn't feel anything. That's why people feared them, he'd said. People needed to sleep and close their eyes and feel, but sharks didn't.

Cissnei lost track of him after the day's classes. She didn't see him at dinner either, though he had to be one of the boarders if he was from the slums. He was probably assigned to the second group, with the older teens like himself.

After dinner she sat down at her desk with her biology book, but try as she might to focus on the text, her mind kept drifting. After the fifth failed attempt at reading the first page, she stuffed the book in her bag.

"I'll go study at the library," Cissnei told the dorm supervisor on her way out. It wasn't strictly necessary to announce her comings and goings like that, but she knew the supervisor expected good students to have a reason to leave in the middle of prep time.

The school yard was quiet. The staff disapproved of loitering during prep time and directed wayward students to their rooms or the library. Cissnei knew how to avoid them though. By the foot of the library stairs, she turned left and skipped down the stairs between the school house and the gym.

The quadrangle at the top of the hill was as strict as the dorm supervisor, all ruler-straight paths and rectangular benches, but it was as if the back alleys and lower yards had been handed to a different architect. Here the lines flowed in curves and circles, and intersected in unexpected ways that just begged to be captured on fine-grained, high-contrast film in black and white. Cissnei dug out her camera from her bag and began the hunt.

She had just snapped her fifth shot when she heard a voice calling out nearby.

"Hey, you. Wait up!"

She looked around, but no one was in sight.

"What's the big hurry, huh? I'm talking to you!"

"Yeah? Well, I ain't talkin' to you."

The lazy drawl was unmistakable. The other teens from the slums always tried to tone it down. Cissnei lowered her camera and hurried toward the speakers.

"Don't have much in the way of manners, do you?"

She reached the end of the gym and took a wary peek around the corner in time to see three guys cut in front of the red-haired boy from her class, forcing him to a halt. He took his hands from his pockets, and gave each of them a hard stare, but he stayed silent.

"So, got a name?" one of them asked.

When he didn't reply, another spoke up.

"It's 'Reno', isn't it?"

The first guy chuckled. "Yeah, that works. Reno the Rat."

The redhead lowered his chin and shot him a glare.

"Fuck off and die, will ya?"

When he tried to leave, the trio moved like chess pieces to block his way, trapping him between them and the concrete wall that surrounded the school grounds. Cissnei finally got a glimpse of their faces. She knew one of them, thanks to the wistful sighing of half the girls in her class whenever he walked past. Troy Domino, the mayor's grandson and captain of the swim team. The two others were likely his friends from the team, judging by their broad shoulders and toned arms. Reno was as tall as them, perhaps even taller, but his hunched shoulders and baggy clothes made him seem like a runt by comparison.

"Hey now, no need to be like that," Troy purred. "We just thought we'd introduce ourselves to the new guy. Give you a proper welcome, like the upstanding members of society that we are. Not that you'd know anything about that, of course."

She'd had him pegged as something of a shithead. Her roommate had seen him kissing Ellie Winter behind the library last week, despite the fact that he was dating one of the seniors.

Reno's lip curled into a sneer.

"I sure know a herd of assholes when I see 'em."

Cissnei lifted the camera to her eye.

"You're a funny guy, huh?" Troy said, smiling like a zenene. "Well, funny guy, since you're new and all, we figured you might need to learn a thing or two about the rules around here."

"That right? We've got rules down below too, y'know. Wanna hear my favorite? 'Don't fuck with me, and I ain't gonna fuck with you'."

Reno's smile showed too much of his teeth, too. They'd be pearly white in the photo. As she pressed down the shutter release, she wondered which shade of gray the scar by his eye would be.

"You're out of the slums now, rat. That's not how it works around here."

Cissnei wound the film forward slowly to minimize the noise. It was habit, not necessity. Their voices were loud enough to hide the quiet whir.

"Look, you got a problem with me?" Reno spat. "Then stop wastin' my time and fuckin' say it already."

She peered through the viewfinder again and zoomed in on the two of them. The tension in the air was close to the snapping point. She had to be ready when it happened, and she had to be fast. No more caution.

"There's a problem, all right. That attitude right there is the problem."

Cissnei snapped another photo as Troy reached for Reno's vest.

"Don't fuckin' touch me!" The redhead jerked back in time with her thumb on the film lever, and shoved Troy in the chest just as she hit the shutter release again. "Try that again and I'm gonna break your fuckin' face!"

Troy lunged. Reno leapt back and crashed into one of the others, who was too slow to grab him. Reno smashed his foot down on the guy's toes and was about to follow it up with a kick to the knee, when the other two got hold of him from behind. He roared and thrashed, but they were too strong for him. Once the third one joined the fray, they managed to shove him into the wall. His head hit the concrete with a nasty thud, but he didn't react at all. Instead he writhed and lashed out with his foot, missing Troy's knee by a fraction. He even tried to bite, but one of the guys grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.

Reno went rigid. He stopped yelling, too. Cissnei flinched as the one whose foot he'd stomped punched him hard in the stomach, but the boy himself only gave a strange sort of wheeze.

"Fucking slum trash!" Troy shouted in his face. "Are you gonna listen now? Huh?" He grabbed Reno's chin and yanked the boy's face toward him, in a tug-of-war with the fist in Reno's hair. "Do you fucking hear me?"

"No," Reno panted. "No. No."

His eyes were wild, but he didn't seem to be seeing them at all. He just stared beyond Troy's shoulder. It was like he wasn't even there anymore, but the others kept taunting him, yelling questions that went unheard.

This wasn't just boys mouthing off anymore. It wasn't even a fight. This was something else, something wrong, and she couldn't just wait and watch. Cissnei straightened to her full height, took a deep breath, and adopted a knowing smile. Then, she stepped into view.

One of Troy's cronies saw her first and warned the others. The three of them traded looks, then Troy slipped his hands into his pockets and took a few steps forward.

"Keep walking, little girl," he called, his voice casual. "You didn't see anything."

Cissnei stopped far enough from them to get a decent head start if she needed to run, but close enough to talk without shouting.

"What if I did?" she asked.

Troy's smug smile grew stiff, and when he spoke again, his voice held something darker.

"You're about to make a really bad decision. Don't. Keep moving."

"Maybe I saw you the other day. Maybe I saw you with Ellie Winter."

That wiped the smile off his face completely. Her roommate had been right, then.

"You've been spying on me?" he growled.

"Maybe I have. Maybe I'll tell your girlfriend what I saw."

His mask dropped for an instant, showing his face contorted in a flash of anger. He was quick to hide it again, though.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he asked with a mocking laugh. "Think she'll believe you? Think anyone will believe you? I don't know you. You're nobody. Just some random little girl with a big mouth."

His words did not touch her. They sank into the gray without so much as a ripple.

"They won't need to just take my word for it, you know." She smiled and raised her camera.

Troy's eyes went wide. He took a step forward, but Cissnei skipped back, keeping the distance between them.

"Leave, now," she said and waved her camera in the air, "or I'll run straight to the nearest photo place and get these printed on paper."

He didn't bother to hide the fury anymore. His eyes bore into her, conveying all manner of dark promise, but Cissnei wasn't afraid. Her pulse had gone wild and her mouth dry, but that was just her body, not her soul. She didn't feel fear.

"Large prints," she said. "Full color. Just to make sure everyone can tell it's you sucking face with Ellie Winter."

A peal of laughter made them both look around. Nobody was in view yet, but the chattering and giggling of a group of girls grew louder by the second.

"You... have made a big mistake," Troy ground out between clenched teeth, pointing at her, then spun on his heel. "Let's get out of here!"

His friends gave the red-haired boy one last shove against the wall, then let go. He grunted on impact, but didn't move. He didn't even look up. He just slid down the wall in slow motion until his butt hit the ground.

Cissnei stood still, keeping an eye on the retreating trio, until they rounded a corner. Only then did she approach the boy, who was still sitting on the ground. His head was bent and his hair hung in his face, making it impossible to see his expression, but his body was heaving with labored breaths.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

He didn't answer. When Cissnei bent down and held out a hand, he burst back to life and scrambled away from her.

"Get the fuck away from me!"

"It's okay," she said, her voice calm. "I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need no fuckin' help," he snarled.

Cissnei froze in place, completely at a loss for how to handle this. This wasn't at all what she had expected. She had no idea what role to play.

"The hell you want, a medal or somethin'?" he spat, baring his teeth in a sneer of rage. "Think I want the help of some stuck-up lil' upper-plate bitch? Well think again, and fuck off already!"

She wet her lips, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"I... I just thought..."

"The hell's wrong with ya? Dontcha got ears in your head? I fuckin' told ya, I don't want ya here and I don't want your fuckin' help! Fuck off!"

The gray rippled. She swallowed to rid herself of the sudden tightness in her throat, but that just made the tightness spread down into her chest, sending a swell across the gray. Then wetness began to trickle down her cheeks. With a gasp, Cissnei turned on her heel and ran.

Chapter Text

Cissnei sat on the edge of her bed, watching her feet swing back and forth. She was arranging the pleats of her beige skirt for the... Well, it had been enough times that she'd lost count. The tears had stopped flowing during the third time, she remembered that much. The ones that had dropped onto the fabric had long since dried.

She didn't know how to make sense of the evening's events. She had no clue.

The door swung open and her roommate, Shalua, skipped in.

"Hellooo!" she called as she threw her bag onto her bed. "Phew, it's warm out there! I hope you got a chance to sneak out for a bit before curfew."

As she spoke, she freed her strawberry blonde hair from its ponytail. She was in the same year as Cissnei, despite being a year younger. She was taller, too. The regulation skirt reached down to Cissnei's knees, but on Shalua the hem hovered a couple of inches above them, revealing legs that were long and gangly like a half-grown chocobo's.

"I did," Cissnei said.

Shalua pulled off her blue sweater vest, leaving just the white short-sleeved shirt.

"Did you take pictures?" she asked, straightening her glasses. "It's a bit cloudy, but the–" She finally looked at Cissnei's face and stopped short. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that," she scoffed, taking a seat beside Cissnei on the bed. "You've been crying."

Cissnei reached up and ran her fingers over her cheek. The skin was dry, but she could feel her eyelids every time she blinked. They must still have been puffed up.

"I guess."

"And?" Shalua prompted. "What happened?"

Cissnei adopted a smile and slipped into the role of a gossiping friend. It was easier these days. After two months, she had a pretty good idea of Shalua's expectations.

"I ran into the new boy while I was out with my camera. He said some mean things."

Shalua frowned.

"You mean the one who got sent to the principal from Lit class?"

"Yeah. He's a total jerk."

"What did he say?"

Cissnei sighed, then leaned closer and lowered her voice.

"He called me a bitch and told me to eff off."

Shalua gasped.

"What an a-hole! Don't listen to him. He's the one who should eff off!"

"I know, right? I don't know why I even started crying."

Cissnei couldn't remember the last time she had cried. She had cried before, she knew that much, but it was too long ago. All she could remember was her mother telling her not to. "Be a brave girl and don't cry, mi cisne," she'd said, while the tears had run down her own gaunt face. Back then, her mom was always sad.

So Cissnei had been a brave girl, because that was what her mom needed, and what her dad expected. She hadn't cried at her mom's burial. She hadn't cried when she got the news about her dad. She had no idea why she would start now. It wasn't as if she had felt anything.

"Anyway, I don't want to think about the jerk anymore," she added. "How was science club?"

"Messy," Shalua said, grinning. "The kids loved it, especially Shelke. We made one of those baking soda volcanoes, you know? Baking soda and vinegar? The goo ended up exploding all over the table!"

Cissnei laughed and listened as the other girl told her all about it. At first she had thought it unfair that Shalua was allowed to leave school grounds during weekdays to help out with the science club at her sister's primary school. As time went on, though, Cissnei had come to look forward to these moments when Shalua would return. Whenever she talked about the things she and Shelke had done together, Cissnei liked to pretend she had a little sister or brother of her own out there. One she could meet some day and teach how to make baking soda volcanoes.

For a while, she could glimpse what it was to be normal.

Cissnei stared at the door in front of her. It was a plain beige door, decorated only by a small sign. The tidy, unembellished letters were the same cobalt blue as the sweater vest of her uniform. "Principal", they spelled.

She had never been to the principal's office before, and she didn't know why she was there now. Mr. Nesbitt had pulled her aside after her first class and informed her that the principal wanted to see her at lunch. That was all. She didn't know what to expect. She didn't know what he was expecting.

"Go ahead and knock, dear," the school secretary called from behind her desk. "Principal Hart is waiting for you."

Cissnei swallowed and rapped her knuckles on the door three times, right below the blue letters.

"Yes?" barked a male voice, muffled by the door.

She cracked open the door and peeked in. The room was smaller than she had thought, with a bookshelf along one wall and a whiteboard on the other. Sandwiched between the beige desk and the window, sat Principal Hart.

"You asked to see me, sir," she said.

"Ah yes. Come in and take a seat."

He gestured to the empty chair in front of his desk. The plastic seat creaked as she sat down.

"Everything is well, I hope?"

"Yes, sir."

Principal Hart watched her with drowsy eyes, leaning heavily on his elbows. Both the hair on his head and the small tuft of beard on his chin were gray, mottled by a few stubborn streaks of dark brown.

"Good, good," he said, nodding in slow motion. "Well, let's get down to business, shall we? I called you here today because the Shinra corporation has selected you as a candidate for the Department of Administrative Research. They are offering you a position on their training program."

Cissnei's shoulders relaxed. She'd been expecting something like this. Everyone knew that First Sector High was owned by Shinra and groomed its students for positions within the company. The name of the department told her nothing, though.

"What do they do?"

"They're in charge of company security. They handle everything from terrorist threats to guarding the President himself."

Principal Hart's smile was a bit too wide, showing a bit too much teeth. Cissnei knew a mask when she saw one.

"Sounds interesting," she remarked politely.

"They also investigate any threats from Wutai operatives on Midgar soil. A very important job in these times, wouldn't you agree?"

Cissnei perked up at that and straightened up in her chair.

"Yes, sir."

She would never be a soldier like her father. She was too slight in build, and more importantly she didn't want to be one. She didn't want to go to Wutai and fight their war. What she wanted was to keep Wutai far away from Midgar. It would make her father proud.

"The training wouldn't replace the Shinra Youth Program," Principal Hart explained. "In addition to your academic studies here, you would have regular lessons with trainers from the department. If that sounds like a lot of work, it's because that's exactly what it is. This is a tough program, but you have been chosen because the head of the department himself believes you have what it takes."

"I see."

A place on the Shinra Youth Program wasn't just a free education for war orphans and slum kids, the matron of the girls' home had told Cissnei, before she ushered her onto the bus to First Sector High. It was also a promise of a brighter future. This was that future. Shinra had kept its promise.

"I understand that this is a big decision for you. If you want to think it over first –"

"No, sir," Cissnei said. "I already know my answer. I accept."

A new sort of smile appeared on the principal's face; both genuine and relieved.

"Good, good! Two representatives from the department will be here tomorrow afternoon to explain what the program entails. See the school secretary after your classes. She'll direct you to the meeting room." He handed her a single sheet of paper. "Fill in this form and bring it with you."

She nodded.

"That will be all," he declared. "Congratulations. Few candidates meet the minimum criteria of this training program, and even fewer are accepted. I'm sure you'll make us all proud."

Cissnei pinned on the courteous smile of a heedful student.

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Room 212. This was the meeting room the school secretary had guided her to. A knock on the door gave no response and the corridor outside was empty, but Cissnei was a few minutes early. She gave the door handle a tentative tug. It wasn't locked.

She poked her head in. A long conference table in pale wood took up most of the space. A whiteboard covered the wall at one end of it, where a boy sat slumped in a chair. It was the red-haired boy from the slums. He'd tilted it backwards and balanced on the back legs, with both feet on the table and his arms hanging limp down the sides. His eyes were closed, and he gave no reaction to her presence.

Maybe she had the wrong room. Cissnei leaned back to peek at the sign by the door. Room 212. This was the place. He was the one who had picked the wrong room for his nap.

"Hey," she called. "Wake up. This room's taken."

The boy cracked an eye open and peered at her.

"Turks got their claws into you too, huh?" he drawled, smooth and slow like molasses.

Cissnei frowned. "Turks?"

"Yeah, Turks. The pack of lyin', back-stabbin', all-'round evil sons of bitches who stuck me in this hellhole in the first place."

Both of his eyes were open now, though mostly hidden behind drowsy eyelids. A corner of his mouth had curled into a smile that wasn't quite there.

"There has to be some mistake," she said. "I'm supposed to meet someone from Shinra here. From their Department of Administrative Research."

She added the last part hoping the fancy title would scare him off. The touch of pride that crept in was unintentional.

The boy raised his arms far above his head and stretched with a groan, moving with a lazy ease that was at odds with his precarious perch on the tilted chair.

"Yeah, that's them," he said, yawning. "The Shinra Turks."

She paused for a moment, and pieced the puzzle together.

"You're... You are another candidate? For their training program?"

His gaze shifted up over her shoulder, and his almost-there smile widened to a sneer. "Dragged here against my will, that's what I am, yo."

"Hello again, Reno," said a voice behind her.

Startled, Cissnei hopped to the side, and a man in a dark suit entered the room. A man with his straight black hair pulled into a ponytail and a dark dot in the middle of his forehead.

A Wutainese man.

"Heyyy, Tseng," the boy said with feigned cheer. "Ya two-faced son of a bitch."

The man stepped up to the table. He gave Reno a hard stare, then grabbed the table's edge and yanked hard. The boy yelped as the table disappeared from under his feet. The chair tipped forward and slammed back down onto the floor, and the sudden stop nearly threw him out of it.

"The hell, man?" Reno griped as he scrambled back into his seat with little dignity. "What'd ya do that for?"

"I'm your supervisor now, and as such I expect a certain amount of respect. This includes never referring to me as a 'two-faced son of a bitch'."

"Then what do I call ya? Humorless ol' fart?"

"You will call me 'Tseng'." The man's lips curved ever so slightly. "'Sir' will also suffice."

"In your fuckin'–"

"This will be your only warning," Tseng barked, the faint trace of humor entirely gone. "If I hear you call me anything else, you will fail the Turk program. I'm sure you remember what that means."

Much to Cissnei's surprise, the boy only glared at the Turk and kept his mouth shut.

She was staring at Tseng, too, trying to bring some order to the jumble of thoughts in her head.

A Wutainese man.

A Wutainese Turk.

As her supervisor. Her teacher. She would be taking orders from this man, calling him sir, while Shinra soldiers like her dad fought and died in Wutai.

"Miss?"

The low voice tore Cissnei's attention away from the two. Only now did she realize another man had followed the Wutaian into the room. He was about the same height and build, but a little older. A scar began beneath his left eye, so close that the end of it was obscured by the frame of his glasses, and drew a jagged line all the way down to his jaw. He was smiling at her.

"I believe you were given a form," he said. "May I have it?" He took a quick glance at the paper she handed to him. "So, you're Cissnei."

"Yes, sir."

"Cissnei?" Reno stared at her with open suspicion. "Since when?"

"Since I wrote it down on the form," she replied coolly.

"Form? I didn't get no goddamn form."

"Yes, you did," Tseng said.

He held up a sheet of paper. Cissnei recognized the form she had filled in earlier, but this one was covered in doodles – mostly crudely drawn dicks.

"Oh, yeah," Reno said, grinning. "Never mind then."

The Turk with the scar pointed Cissnei to a chair by the table. As she sat down, the other one began to speak, addressing both her and Reno.

"I am Tseng. This is Balto. We are Shinra agents, though as Reno has pointed out, most people simply call us Turks. You two are here because you have the potential to become one of us."

Behind her, the boy scoffed. Tseng gave him an even stare, and resumed his speech.

"You both know where we come from, but neither of you knows all that we do. Our main priority is the security of the Shinra Company. We're investigators, infiltrators, bodyguards... and more. You'll learn the practical details of our duties during your trainee period at the department. For now, your training will focus on building the physical foundation you'll need for the job. Questions?"

"Yeah, I got one," Reno called. "How come I gotta be here? You already told me this stuff, yo."

"Introductions, mostly. Turks often work in pairs, and as you two are currently the only candidates, you'll be seeing a lot of each other. Eventually, you'll move on to training missions in the field. For those, you'll pair up with one of us."

"Fan-fuckin'-tastic," the redhead muttered under his breath. Cissnei said nothing.

"All Turks carry some type of firearm and are trained in hand-to-hand combat," Tseng went on. "Many of us also use other weapons. Cissnei, you will begin with the self-defense courses offered by the school. Once a week, you also train with me, Balto or one of the other Turks. Reno, you will train with one of us twice a week."

"Huh? How come I don't get the self-defense stuff?"

A soft chime interrupted Tseng's reply. Balto reached into his jacket.

"You were deemed too... volatile for the school's courses," Tseng said, trading a glance with the other Turk as he slipped out into the corridor with a PHS pressed to his ear. "Besides," he continued, ignoring Reno's huffing, "there's no need to start with the basics for you. We'll tweak and develop the style you already use."

"My style? Seriously?" Reno snorted. "Have you guys ever actually seen me in a fight?"

"We don't score you on perfect form. We score takedowns, the quicker the better. You've survived enough fights in your life to have some idea of what works and what doesn't. We can work with that."

Reno said nothing to that, just studied the Turk with narrowed eyes.

"In fact," Tseng said, addressing both of them again, "much of your training will be individual, depending on your strengths and weaknesses. As we proceed and discover your specific talents, it will be tailored to fit them."

The door opened and Balto returned.

"Excuse us a moment," he said and pulled Tseng aside. The men stepped out into the hall and began speaking in tones too hushed for Cissnei to hear.

"Just look at those assholes," the boy scoffed behind her. "Black suit, white shirt, black hair... All black and white, like crap TV, and just as borin'."

"Monochrome."

"Huh?"

"Monochrome," she said, shifting in her seat to look at him. "That's the word for black and white."

"Well look who's a lil' miss know-it-all," he sneered. "You'll fit right in with these bozos. Just as borin', yo."

"I'm not here to entertain you."

"Well, thank fuck for that. D'ya even know how to smile?"

"Not when I'm stuck in the same room with you."

"And I'm stuck with some uptight upper-plate smartass as my 'fellow candidate'. Figures. This whole fuckin' school is topsider snobs."

The more he jeered, the deeper she sank into monotone. It didn't seem to dissuade him, though. If anything, it egged him on. It was time to change tactics.

"If you hate it so much here, why don't you just leave?" she hissed. "Nobody is forcing you to go to high school!"

"That's where you're wrong, honey."

He leaned back and smacked his foot on the table, then pulled up the leg of his pants to reveal a device strapped to his ankle. It looked like a bulky black watch, only what should have been the clock face was just a flat, blank square.

"A lil' gift from our Turk buddies over there," he said, tapping the casing with a nail. "'Til I figure out how to get rid of this thing, I'm stuck right here like a fuckin' dog on a chain."

"What is it?"

"Aw, never seen an ankle monitor before? Aintcha just the sweetest lil' thing," he cooed, then scoffed and pulled his leg off the table. "Wanna know what it does? Go ask our evil overlords over there. I've got better things to do than explain how the world works to some spoiled lil' skyside brat."

"You know what? You're a real jerk."

"Yeah? Whatcha gonna do 'bout it, huh? Run off cryin' to daddy again?"

That hit the surface harder than his other jibes. She held her breath for a second, waiting for a wave. A ripple. Anything.

Nothing came. She exhaled in a small sigh. The stillness in her remained undisturbed, as gray and flat as the haze that hung over Midgar.

"I can't. He's dead."

Reno gave her a look she knew well. It was the one anyone gave her when she spoke of her dead parents. Suspicion, unease, disbelief – the look was all of these things. Her aunt had perfected it. It was the nothingness of her voice, Aunt Esme had told her. How could she speak of her mom and dad with nothing in her voice?

Cissnei knew why. It was because that nothingness dwelled inside of her. She hadn't bothered to explain that to her aunt, because it would only have proven everything the woman believed about her to be true. Cissnei had just stopped talking about her parents instead.

Reno said nothing more to her that day. Part of her was relieved. Another part wished he'd tried harder to disturb the gray.

Chapter Text

Cissnei sat on her bed, leaning against the wall. Her bed was in the farthest corner from the entrance, so she had a full view of the narrow room she shared with Shalua. Her bed took up most of the space along the short stretch of outside wall. Her desk was tucked into the nook that remained by the foot of the bed, under the only window. Shalua's desk separated their beds. Two dressers sat side by side on the opposite wall.

She traced the blue and beige lines of her duvet's checkered pattern. The same fabric as the curtains; the same blue and beige of her school uniform. Shalua's duvet was covered by large pink flowers. The Rui sisters were orphans like her, but they hadn't been dropped off at some home for girls with nothing but a backpack. They had grandparents in the slums. Shalua had her own bedding, toiletries, notebooks, pencils... and an ever-growing collection of clothes, thanks to her part-time job at the science club. She even had a small round rug made of pink fuzz, currently under her desk chair. Nice things. Normal things.

Cissnei looked over at her desk by the window. A notebook, a neat pile of textbooks and a few pencils; all of them in the colors of First Sector High. Cissnei knew the desk's drawer hid an atlas, though, its corners rounded and fraying after years of rubbing against the fabric of the backpack.

I have to do this, her dad had told her just before he left the first time. I have to do this for your mother, and for you. For our family. Then he had pointed out places he would see on his way to Wutai.

By the time he returned, Cissnei was all that was left.

The second time he returned he'd looked so different that she hadn't recognized him when she and Aunt Esme went to meet him at the train station.

The third time never came.

Her aunt had taken Cissnei to some service at the Shinra Military Academy two days after they received the news. Her dad had been mentioned in a speech held by a man in a uniform, along with more names than she had been able to count. A military band had played a fanfare and more men in uniforms had fired shots.

The coffins had been few. Her dad's had not been one of them. He was still out there, somewhere in Wutai.

And here she was, signing up to do the bidding of one of them.

For years, Cissnei had known she would work for Shinra.  Her father had signed her up with the Shinra Youth Program, knowing what it would mean for her future. He had expected her to go through with it.

Her dad hadn't known Shinra employed Wutaians, though. He couldn't have known. He'd spent years on foreign soil fighting them. He wouldn't want one of them teaching her, would he?

Cissnei's head felt too hot and heavy for thinking. She needed to cool herself down before she could make sense of it all.

She shuffled off the bed and opened the desk drawer to take out a camera case molded in black leather. She carefully lifted out the camera and checked the lens. Her gaze began to wander, studying the rings that framed the glass of the lens, the textured black plastic and smooth silver. She'd spent more time on this side of the camera, once. Her mother usually stuck to flowers and animals in her spare time, saying she would only photograph people for money. Her family had been her only exception.

Cissnei liked the portraits her mother had taken of her. She hated her own self-portraits, though. There was always something wrong with her eyes.

She had taken photos of other people instead, whenever she caught them unawares. She would zoom in on their faces, and once they were printed on paper, she would spend hours scrutinizing every tiny detail. She would assign feelings to their expressions, and come up with thoughts or events that might have made them feel that way. Then she would imitate the looks on their faces, hoping it might invoke the emotions.

Aunt Esme thought it was creepy. Eventually she'd refused to buy film or have the photos developed unless Cissnei stop taking people photos. So, she had switched to buildings and monochrome, shapes and textures in shades of gray.

The dorm supervisor barely had time to look up as Cissnei flitted past with her customary library excuse. The sky outside was hidden by a thick layer of clouds. She stared up at it for a while, searching for patterns or cracks, but all she could see was more of the same monotonous blanket. The cool air on her face felt good, though. By the time she reached the school yard, her head was already a bit lighter.

A pair of older girls sat on one of the stone benches that dotted the crisscrossing pathways of the main yard. They were smiling and sending coquettish looks at the two boys who had stopped for a chat. Cissnei slunk into the shade by the school building and snapped a few shots of them. She bought film with her own gil now, so she could shoot what she wanted.

Cissnei no longer believed that copying expressions would make the feelings magically appear, though. It had been childish of her to think that. These days, she did it to pass for normal.

Someone stepped in front of the group, blocking her view. The math teacher, Mrs. Aspen, she recognized as she lowered the camera. The woman said something to the students, pointing at the library. The little group headed that way, while Mrs. Aspen strolled in Cissnei's direction. The woman hadn't seen her yet, but if she wanted to continue her photography session, she would have to make herself scarce.

Cissnei ducked behind the corner and hurried to the stairs behind the school building. There were more spots to hide in along the outskirts of the school grounds. More interesting angles to capture, too.

The back of the building came near the outer wall, leaving a passage about fifteen feet wide. A low concrete divider meandered in a wavy line along the wall. The trough it created had probably been intended for plants, but was filled up with smooth pebbles instead. Only the most stubborn weeds did well in Midgar, as far as Cissnei had seen. The strip of lawn outside the administration building had been a mottled brown since the day she arrived, and the apple tree around the back looked more dead than alive.

Her mother had hated it. Midgar was a place where the living withered and died, she'd said. It had been true for her, at least.

Cissnei wandered along the undulating divider, contemplating the pebbles. She found them soothing. They would always remain as they were. An unchanging existence that she could return to, again and again.

She enjoyed the stillness, too. Cissnei could hear the occasional car pass by on the other side of the wall, but traffic was light on this side of the compound. A pair of pigeons cooed somewhere above, hidden from view. She had this little nook of the world to herself.

She came upon a spot of color among the pebbles. A discarded soda can perched at an awkward angle among the rocks, seemingly defying gravity itself. Cissnei lifted the camera to her eye, curious to see what the bright green and blue would look like when converted into grays.

"Hey there, little girl."

Cissnei jerked upright and spun around on her heel. Troy Domino had appeared out of nowhere, along with his two friends.

Lots of spots to hide down here. Lots of cover to sneak up on someone.

"I told you you'd made a mistake."

She didn't like the smile on his face. Not one bit. It was the same smile he'd given that red-haired boy.

On her left, the divider formed a steep curve toward the school house, leading straight into the trio. On her right was a wide stone bench. Any attempt to flee would force her to move closer to them.

"Don't worry," Troy continued. "This doesn't have to get ugly. Just give us the camera and we'll walk away."

An image of her mother flashed in her mind's eye, smiling as she peeked at Cissnei through the viewfinder. Her mother in her garden, kneeling by her peonies with the camera in her hands. Those same hands, thin and unsteady as she sat on the hospital bed, pointing out and naming all the parts of the camera to Cissnei.

Cissnei clutched the camera to her chest, gripping it tighter in her hands.

"No."

"Come on, don't be stupid. Three of us against you? We can just take what we want."

Troy sauntered closer with his hands in his pockets. The other two fanned out as they followed. The round-faced boy with the dark hair scowled at her. The taller one grinned in a way that made her shiver.

Cissnei swallowed – or she tried, but her mouth was too dry.

"It belonged to my mom."

"So get your mom to buy you new one," said the tall one with the thin face, rolling his eyes. Arkham, maybe? She didn't know his first name. "Shouldn't be too hard for a conniving little bitch like you."

"Come on, be a smart girl," Troy added, his voice a touch too smug to be soothing. "Hand it over."

He took another step closer. Two more and they would block her escape. She didn't have time for explanations.

Cissnei bolted. Troy darted toward her, and just as she rounded the bench, he snatched her by the wrist and pulled, forcing her to a stop.

She moved immediately, just like her dad had taught her. Elbow down, wrist into position, push toward attacker. In the second it took for her wrist to slip out of his grip, she saw the surprise blossom on Troy's face. That moment of confusion was all she needed to take off again.

"Get her!"

They were taller, though, with longer legs. One of them crashed into her from behind before she reached the corner. She hugged the camera to her chest and twisted around enough to hit the ground shoulder first, but the impact knocked the air out of her. Half-stunned as she was, her attacker had no trouble rolling her onto her back, but when he tried to grab her camera, she snatched it out of his reach.

"Just give me the fucking thing!"

Troy straddled her, pinning her in place with his weight. Another pair of hands grabbed her wrists, and someone else pulled on her fingers. She refused to give in. She held on tight, she screamed and tried to bite Troy's hand when he pressed it down on her mouth, she kicked and writhed. It was hopeless, though, she couldn't win, she couldn't get away, she couldn't–

With a roar, someone crashed into Troy and knocked him off her.

"Oh, shit!"

"Get him, get him!"

Her hands were free. She rolled around and scrambled up to her feet, cradling the camera to her chest. She pressed herself against the concrete wall, completely forgotten by the boys. They were busy fighting Reno.

Busy trying to fight Reno, rather. They were all bigger than him, but he was fast, he was nimble and he was mean, snarling and lashing out like a frenzied beast. When one of the others tried to pull him off Troy, he pushed off the ground with his legs and slammed himself into the guy, toppling them both over. Reno was the first one to bounce back up, and swiftly smashed his foot down on the other guy's fingers. Cissnei wasn't sure if she heard the crunch or just imagined it, but the guy's scream was definitely the real deal.

While he rolled away, clutching his hand, Troy grabbed Reno from behind in a bear hug. The third guy got into position to throw a punch, but Reno flung his head backwards first. With a yelp of pain, Troy let go and staggered backwards with his hands over his nose. Reno sent him into the wall with a kick to the gut, then spun around to face his other opponent.

Cissnei stared at Troy, who had landed right next to her. He clutched both his face and his waist, groaning. She looked up and whipped her head back and forth, searching for the guy with the injured hand, but he was nowhere to be seen. Reno was winning the fight. The scrawny slum kid against three, and he was winning.

There was no grace to his movements, no strategy or plan. All Reno had was speed, and rage. He was a flurry of dirty words and bony fists, swinging wildly, and his lone remaining opponent could do nothing but duck and block.

A movement in the corner of her eye brought her attention back to Troy. He was rising, glowering at Reno. Tensing, crouching, nostrils flaring. He was going back in, and then it would be two against one.

Reno had his back to them. He'd be taken by surprise, and then his luck might change.

Cissnei grabbed Troy's hair with both hands and pulled hard. With a snort of surprise, he lost his balance and fell sideways. Before he could correct himself, she tightened her grip and smashed his head against the wall. His forehead made an oddly mundane sound when it thumped into the concrete, like dropping a bowl of meatloaf batter to the floor.

Troy's friend looked up when he heard his yell, and Reno used the chance to knock him back with a punch to the head. He glanced to the side, his eyes going wide as he watched Troy slump to the ground. He shot her a look, and for a second their eyes locked. Reno bared his teeth in a savage grin, and a jolt went through Cissnei like lightning.

With a roar the last boy rushed him, and Reno ducked and rolled to the side. With their grunts and yells echoing behind her, Cissnei ran.

Chapter Text

Cissnei sat at the breakfast table and ignored Shalua. Her attention was focused on the table behind her, where the group of senior girls had gossiped about the fight non-stop since they sat down.

"I saw one of them this morning," she heard one of them declare. "The tall guy from the swim team, with the really short hair? His fingers were taped up. They must have been broken."

"I heard one guy is still in hospital. The rat messed up his face or something."

"Another one from the swim team? Shit, don't tell me it's the cute one!"

Would they be gossiping about her, if she had been the one to end up in hospital? Would anyone have noticed if Troy Domino and his cute friends had messed up her face? Cissnei gingerly rolled her shoulder. She had to wear the sweater today, because the black and blue skin peeked through the fabric of the regulation shirt and the vest hadn't been enough to cover it.

"Gods! Sarah says he went totally apeshit. Kicking and biting like some animal!"

"Guess they call him Rat for a reason."

How would Sarah know, Cissnei thought, stirring her cereal, listening to the girls laugh. Sarah wasn't there. It had just been her and them. They were the only ones who knew. Her, and them.

And Reno.

"There has to be something wrong with him. Like, wrong with his brain. I mean, they put him with the new kids, but he's got to be way, way older."

Round and round she stirred. Round and round and–

"Stop that, will you?" Shalua snapped. "That noise is the worst!"

"Sorry."

Cissnei set down the spoon and stared out of the window, still tuned in to the older girls instead of Shalua.

"He'll get expelled," one of them said. "It's in the rules. Start a fight and you're gone."

"Isn't it more complicated than that? Don't they have a... a hearing or something?"

The first girl laughed. The sound seemed to crawl down Cissnei's back.

"Oh, please. Of course they don't have hearings. It's not a courtroom."

Both of them were wrong. It was suspension, with possible expulsion. The principal would look into the circumstances, consider all aspects of the case and present his recommendation to the school board, who would make the final decision. The girls didn't know anything.

"Aren't you hungry?" Shalua asked. "Class starts in ten minutes and you've barely touched anything."

"My stomach hurts," Cissnei mumbled.

A man in a suit strode into the school yard, heading for the administration building. Tseng. He must have been called in by the principal.

Nobody knew anything, except for her, and them, and Reno. She hadn't said anything. They hadn't said anything, or she would be on suspension, too.

Reno hadn't said anything.

The Turk was already halfway across the yard. He'd be at the principal's office in a couple of minutes.

Cissnei shot to her feet and grabbed her tray.

"Can you pick up my books too on your way to class?" she asked Shalua.

"Why? Where are you going?"

"The nurse," she blurted out, already hurrying away. "Stomach ache."

Tseng had crossed the yard and was marching up the gravel path to the administration building by the time Cissnei caught him.

"Tseng," she panted. "Sir."

"Good morning, Cissnei."

He didn't look at her. He didn't even slow down. Cissnei had to jog to catch up with him again.

"You're here because of the fight, right?"

Tseng stopped. He faced her at last, with a questioning look.

"That's right."

"I don't know if Reno's told you, but..." She paused to gulp down air, still winded from the run. "They attacked me first. Reno helped me."

A faint line formed between his eyebrows.

"Tell me what happened."

"I was out taking pictures last night when this guy Troy Domino and his goons showed up from nowhere. They pushed me down and tried to take my camera. That's when Reno showed up. He tackled Troy and they started fighting, and I... I ran."

Cissnei forced herself to meet his steady gaze, even though it felt like he could read in her face all the parts she'd left out. Her heart was still racing and her face felt hot all the way down to her neck. She really needed to get into better shape. Next to her, Tseng seemed completely unperturbed. It was funny, really. She was supposed to be the blank one, not him.

"Why did they want your camera?"

"Troy thought I had taken pictures of him kissing Ellie Winter," she said, rolling her eyes. "Who isn't his girlfriend."

Tseng raised his eyebrows a fraction. "And have you?"

"Does it matter?"

Again he stared her down. His eyes were such a dark brown that they would appear black if she shot him on black-and-white film. Black dots in a white face. Black suit over a white shirt. A study in contrasts. Colorless, just like her.

No! Not like her. Black and white were colors. She was devoid of all color. She was invisible.

Only she didn't feel invisible, the way he stared at her.

"Thank you, Cissnei," he said. "You did the correct thing by telling me this."

He turned away from her and pulled out a PHS from his jacket on his way toward the administration building. Cissnei dawdled, watching from the corner of her eye as he pushed a few buttons and brought the phone to his ear. When Tseng spoke, though, it was with a voice so low she couldn't make anything out. With a sigh, she headed in the opposite direction toward her first class.

Reno slouched on a chair in the waiting area outside the principal's office, his eyelids so heavy they were barely open. The hag behind the receptionist's desk probably thought he was asleep already. Maybe he should jump up and scream the next time she turned and stared down her nose at him. Give her a nice little heart attack to remember him by.

He sank a bit deeper into his seat, using it as an excuse to ease some of the tension out of his muscles. The cotton fabric of his dress shirt scratched at his skin, and the pants were just as itchy. Stupid cheap-ass school uniforms. Stupid cheap-ass school. The sooner he got out of this shithole, the better.

Careful not to move his head, Reno glanced at the clock above the receptionist's desk, then at the three doors of the room. School records, principal's office, exit. It was the last one he had kept an eye on for the past ten minutes. Turk bastard would probably show up on the dot. Tseng seemed the type. No sooner, no later, just precisely on the dot. Maybe that's what the dot on his forehead was all about. Mister fancy-pants dot man.

With a quiet click, the long hand of the clock snapped to twelve. Reno began counting.

Seven seconds later the exit door swung open. Tseng stood in the doorway, one hand still on the handle. Fancy suit, fancy hair, fancy dot. He made Reno's skin itch worse than the crappy shirt.

"Please inform Principal Hart that we will join him in ten minutes," Tseng told the receptionist, then looked at Reno. "Walk with me."

The receptionist glared daggers at the Turk, but nodded and stayed silent. Reno could have sworn she had shrunk back in her chair slightly. Would she look at him like that once he got the Turk suit? That alone might be worth all the shit they had put him through so far.

As he trailed behind the silent Turk, though, it was harder and harder for him to keep his breathing even and his hands in his pockets. This wasn't part of the plan. They were supposed to go straight into the meeting with the principal. It dawned on Reno that the Turks might think he had blown his part of the deal. And people who failed the Turks, well... They didn't have long to regret it.

Under the fuck-ugly school vest, the back of Reno's scratchy shirt had gone damp.

Tseng led him straight out of the admin building. Only a janitor was in the yard, sweeping a pathway near the main gate – morning class had already started. Reno swore to himself as the Turk turned a corner and headed around the back of the building, but he followed. Tseng came to a halt by an apple tree in the middle of a small square of smooth pebbles. Keeping his eyes on the ground, Reno scurried in under the sparse canopy. Better than nothing. Sort of.

Tseng stood still, his hands clasped behind his back, and observed. Reno didn't know what to look at, so he studied the gnarled, greyish trunk of the apple tree. He knew what kind of tree it was because the branches were full of small, yellow apples. When he had first arrived, he couldn't believe anyone would leave food just hanging around. Then he had tried them. About five minutes from rotten and way too sour. He had only managed to eat two of them, and afterwards his guts had been twisting all night.

Still Tseng was silent, appraising him. Reno was beginning to feel antsy, and decided to stare right back. Tseng had the best damned poker face he had ever seen. Blank as a statue. Did he ever smile? Did he move a single muscle on that face when he killed his targets? Reno let his gaze sweep lower to study the outline of his dark jacket. The man had to be armed – Turks always were – but he saw no obvious signs of a weapon. Not that Tseng needed a weapon to take him out.

Death under an apple tree. That wasn't so bad compared to, say, death in a gutter that smelled of piss. Maybe he could even get in a last wish.

"Got a smoke? I'm climbin' up the walls in here."

"No smoking on school grounds. You know that." Tseng reached into his jacket and pulled out a flat cardboard box. "Here. Maybe these will keep you off the walls."

Reno groaned when he saw the packaging. The Shinra doc had blathered on about nicotine gum, too.

"Seriously? I'm gonna be stuck with these things from now on?"

"I can get you patches if you prefer."

With a huff, Reno snatched the packet from Tseng's hand and popped a piece into his mouth. Cherry-flavored. Could have been worse. He slipped the rest into his pocket.

"Couldn't they find you clothes that fit?" Tseng asked.

With his hands still in his pockets, Reno spread his baggy cotton pants.

"Nope. It was either this or pants that looked like shorts."

"Hm. A few months on the diet should help you fill them out a bit."

"Fat chance, if what they've been servin' me so far is what the doctor ordered. Was fuckin' starvin' by the time I got to bed last night."

"I suspect Dr. Uzuki did not account for brawls with the other students when she designed your meal plan."

His mouth felt hot. Chew and park, the doctor had said, or he would get an upset stomach. Reno maneuvered the gum between his lower teeth and his cheek, making a face when it nudged his split lip. It wouldn't remove the addiction, she'd said. It was just a different form of it, but it might keep his mood in check while he adjusted to his new circumstances. Might keep him from blowing up at people. He'd just responded with some smartass comment. He'd done that a lot that day.

"You lost me fifty gil," Tseng said. "I bet it would be at least a week before you got yourself into trouble."

"That s'posed to make me feel bad or somethin'?"

"Two students needed medical care. Care to explain yourself?"

"Pretty sure you already know what happened, what with you bein' a Turk and all."

Reno kept his hands in his pockets, balled tight to keep them still. The stupid gum wasn't working. He needed a proper goddamned cigarette. That would help him relax; not some lump of fake cherry flavoring. The chewing made his lip hurt more, too.

"Indeed," Tseng said. "Your fellow candidate stopped me on the way here. She wanted to make it clear the fight was not your fault. She says the others attacked her first, and you showed up to help her."

Reno blinked. Cissnei's face flashed in his mind's eye, her cheeks streaked with tears, and he shoved the guilt deeper down until resentment rushed in to take its place. So much for plan A, then.

"Does she now," he muttered, glaring at the tree trunk.

"You could have avoided all this trouble just by saying so from the start, you know. Since they started it, they are now the ones under threat of expulsion."

"You sure 'bout that?" Reno asked with a sour smile. "I get the feelin' good ol' Principal Hart would be oh so happy to make an exception just for me."

"You saw the principal already, I take it?"

"Yeah," he spat. "He chewed me out while the nurse fixed me up last night. Gave the whole speech about how this place was created for orphans of war heroes, not slum trash."

His head felt funny. Maybe it was all the sunlight. Too bright for his eyes. Or the gum, maybe. Stupid, useless gum.

"I doubt principal Hart used the words 'slum trash'," Tseng remarked, his voice dry.

"Yeah, well, I can read between the lines just fine. C'mon, Tseng, this is stupid. Why do I gotta go to this dumb school to become a Turk?"

"Would you rather go to the Shinra Military Academy? Doing drills and taking orders with nothing but a 'sir yes sir'?"

Was that a flicker of amusement on the man's face? Was Tseng mocking him? Smug Shinra prick.

"Hey, I've got a better idea. Why dontcha just gimme the fuckin' suit?"

"You need to learn how things work topside first, and a bit of general education will do you good," Tseng said, remaining so insufferably cool and collected. "Besides, we're not requiring you to stay here until graduation. Do well, and you can join the Turks once you turn eighteen."

"That means a whole fuckin' year!"

"We're not going to bend over backwards for you. You are the one who has to prove yourself to us."

"Thought I already did," Reno ground out through clenched teeth.

"You've shown promise, enough for us to give you this opportunity. Now it's time for you to make good on that promise. Otherwise..."

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. Join or rot in jail. Fine. I'll go to your dumb school."

Assholes. Fucking assholes, all of them, with their fancy suits and cars and houses and top-plate fucking jobs.

"Good. Moreover, you will comply with your teachers' requests and you will pass your courses." Tseng ignored Reno's drawn-out groan. "Also, the results of your medical have given the all-clear for exercise, so you will begin your running practice. Report at the track at seven tomorrow."

"Whoa, whoa, hang on. You don't mean seven in the morning, do ya?"

"I do. Maybe you'll find it easier to behave if you work off all that excess energy first."

"For fuck's sake! Why do I gotta practice runnin', anyway? I know how to fuckin' run, yo."

Tseng watched him, so still that Reno wondered if he was even breathing. Reno wasn't still, couldn't stay still under that unwavering stare. It felt like his whole body was vibrating underneath his skin.

"You're pretty fast," Tseng acknowledged, finally.

It wasn't a question, but he paused as if expecting an answer. Reno shrugged.

"I guess."

"You could be faster. A lot faster."

That wasn't a question either. Nor a taunt. Reno studied his face with narrowed eyes.

"That a challenge?"

Tseng's mouth curved slightly. "Maybe it is."

This was unexpected. Reno felt a little ripple of excitement.

"And if I get 'a lot faster'?"

"Then maybe I'll deem you ready for practical training in the field."

Whatever "in the field" actually was, it had to be anywhere but the school grounds. Reno grinned, careful not to stretch his sore lip too much.

"All right. You're on."

Tseng bowed his head slightly.

"One more thing," he said once he had straightened up again. "You will see a psychologist for anger management."

Reno's grin dropped off his face.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"That's fuckin' bullshit! I'm managin' just fine!"

He really was vibrating now, his muscles locked and tight. His whole chest was tight, too. Too tight. It squashed together all his irritation and frustrations, melding them into a molten ball of rage.

Tseng arched an eyebrow. "You put two students in hospital. I wouldn't call that 'just fine'."

"Well, fuck you!" Reno yelled. "I don't need no goddamn shrink! I ain't crazy!"

"No, you're not, but you need to learn to control yourself. We have no use for someone who can't."

The pressure crushing his chest had moved up to his head, squeezing his thoughts out of his brain too quickly for him to catch them, and it wouldn't stop, it just kept building, and building, and–

"Fuck!"

With a sharp crack, Reno's foot smashed into the tree's trunk. Tiny, sour apples pattered down onto the lawn. He kicked one of them, too. It hit the wall that enclosed the school grounds and painted a smear of apple pulp on its slow slide down the concrete.

"And that proves my point." Tseng's voice held an edge now. "Your first session is tomorrow afternoon."

The pressure had dissipated, and with it, Reno's will to fight. With leaden limbs, he trudged after the Turk back to the principal's office.

Chapter Text

Shalua pointed to a page in the library book she'd been obsessed with for two days.

"This one seemed cool, too. You put a flower in a vase with dyed water. As the plant drinks it, it changes color! You can move the flower to a vase with a different color dye, but it doesn't say what happens then. I'd love to try it in science club and find out... but I don't think we can afford the flowers."

As Cissnei listened, her eyes kept wandering over to the empty desk at the end of the row. Reno had been absent all day yesterday, and there had been no sign of him so far today. Had her talk with Tseng been in vain?

"I checked once, when I wanted to get one for Shelke's birthday," Shalua continued. "One rose cost fifty gil!"

"Fifty? That's insane."

"I know, right? The lady said they cost so much because they're all imported."

Cissnei could have said something about her mother's roses in the garden of her childhood home, or the frail pink flowers that grew on the beaches of Junon. She didn't. Instead she peeked at the empty seat again.

She wasn't sure why her mind kept dwelling on this. She had spoken up and salved her conscience. That should have been the end of it. The boy was rude, mean and unpleasant in every way. She should have been glad to be rid of him. Why, then, did he keep sneaking back into her thoughts? He'd done nothing to deserve her concern.

Nothing, except fight off three guys at once on her behalf.

"The book says it takes a few hours for a flower to change color. Imagine if we could do that." Shalua pulled the end of her ponytail in front of her face and studied the blonde tuft. "If we could, like, dye our hair by drinking some colored water? Wouldn't that be cool?"

She grinned. Cissnei smiled and nodded, but her gaze sought out the empty seat again.

A boy came up behind her and turned to pass in front of her desk, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Cissnei felt her pulse quicken. She knew only one person who moved with that lazy saunter. She glanced up, and for a few moments their eyes locked. Reno didn't sneer. He didn't even smirk. He just gave her an appraising look that went on a tad too long.

The girls behind her erupted in a rustle of poorly hushed whispers, but Cissnei wasn't paying attention. She watched Reno out of the corner of her eye as he strolled to his desk and sat down. The cut on his bottom lip looked painful, but he lounged in his chair as boneless and nonchalant as ever. She kept watching him until the teacher arrived, but he didn't look at her again.

Her thoughts had scattered to the winds and it was impossible to pay attention in class. Reno had taken a detour on the way to his seat, and as far as she could tell, he'd done it just so he could catch her eye. Was it a greeting? An announcement? A threat? He couldn't be angry with her for speaking up, could he?

They traded another glance on their way out of the classroom, and again at the start of the next one. Reno disappeared at lunchtime as usual, but she found him slouching in the hallway on the way to Algebra. He gave her the same thoughtful look as she passed him, and again when he walked by her desk a few minutes later.

The bell rang. Algebra was over, and so was the school day. Reno was usually the first one who shot to his feet and vanished, but now he remained in his seat. He was scribbling in his notebook, but the casual pose and the loose grip on the pencil gave her the impression he was just biding his time. Waiting for something – or someone. He didn't look at her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that someone might be her.

She glanced at Shalua, who was busy stuffing her things into her bag. As soon as she was done, she would flit off to the science club at her sister's primary school. Cissnei had the afternoon to herself.

She wondered what Reno might want. Jeer at her? Trade more insults? Come to think of it, why was she even considering talking to him?

Because that's what she was doing. Considering it. He'd been different today, and she wanted to know why.

"Got to run," Shalua said. "See you tonight!"

Only a few students remained. The classroom would be empty soon. Reno hadn't even touched his bag. He was just sitting there, waiting.

She wasn't sure how to approach him. The role of squabbling rival that she had used with him before didn't seem right, nor did that of an attentive friend. Grateful damsel in distress? Oh, hell no.

Another student left the room. If she didn't act soon, she'd miss her chance.

With a deep breath, Cissnei made up her mind. She cleared her desk, then strolled over to his. She kept her pace slow, but when she reached him she still had no idea what to say. A glance at his notebook revealed that he'd been doodling. A scruffy-looking bird was giving the day's last math problem the evil eye, its beak wide open. It was either warking menacingly, or about to gobble up the offending line of variables.

"That's a chocobo, right? I've never seen one up close, but my aunt says they're pretty dumb. Nothing but feathers and drumsticks."

Reno gave her a sideways glance.

"Wanna know what's dumb?" He added a few feathers to the bird's tail as he spoke. "Math with letters. We got numbers for that, yo."

His tone wasn't openly hostile, nor did it have that undercurrent of mockery she'd picked up on so often. It hardly oozed with friendliness, but it was the most encouraging response she'd ever heard from him.

"Well, when you put it that way..."

After scribbling in another feather in the chocobo's crest, he set the pencil down and slouched back in his chair, finally lifting his face to look straight up at her. The clarity of his eyes caught her off guard. His scrutiny wasn't confrontational, but it was intense. Too intense for her to face it without a role to play. Cissnei lowered her gaze until it landed on the thin red line that split his bottom lip.

"That doesn't look too good."

"You talkin' about my face?"

There was no challenge in his voice, and as she watched, his lips curved into something that approached a smile.

"Yeah," she said, matching his tone. "Your lip, to be exact."

Definitely a smile, now.

"The principal told the nurse not to Cure it. Thinks that'll teach me a lesson or somethin'." His laughter was more like a wheeze deep in his throat. "Typical top-plate bullshit. As if I'd even know what a Cure feels like."

Her lips had gotten dry enough to crack once, but that little scratch was nothing compared to this. She could see a cake of coagulated blood in the cut, and the skin around it was swollen and red.

"Does it hurt?"

"Eh. Ain't too bad. I heal up quick." He looked her over. "You okay?"

Cissnei glanced around. It was just the two of them now, but he still hadn't made a move to leave.

"Shoulder hurts a bit," she admitted, then gave him a small smile. "It's not too bad."

He snorted softly.

"Why were you there, anyway?" she asked. "Where you following me?"

He snorted again, louder this time. Cissnei wasn't sure whether to be relieved or offended.

"Nah," he said. "Followed King Bro and pals. I'm workin' on some nice lil' pranks for 'em. Just don't tell 'em that, eh?"

"King Bro?" she repeated slowly, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah. King Bro, Eelface and Mama's Boy. Suits 'em, dontcha think?"

Eelface must have been the taller of Domino's two friends – Ender Arkham, she had confirmed from overheard gossip – which meant the round-faced one was Mama's Boy. Yeah, she could see it.

One corner of Reno's mouth had lifted in a half-smile. The lopsidedness could have been to keep the cut on his lip undisturbed, but he'd worn that same smirk before the fight, too. Part amusement, part cynicism, part scorn – and one-hundred percent insincere.

"You talked to the principal, right?" she asked. "Do you know what'll happen to them?"

"Seems they're gonna get suspended for a bit. A few days."

"A few days?" she echoed. "They should be expelled!"

"That's what Tseng thinks too," Reno said with a shrug. "He says the principal hopes that actin' all nice-like to King Bro will get him a cushy job at Shinra HQ."

As she thought it over, the whole scenario began to make a cynical sort of sense.

"Because Mayor Domino is Troy's granddad, right?"

"Yeah, and he's also on the school board."

Cissnei scoffed, shaking her head.

"No wonder Troy's such a dick."

"Yeah," Reno said, chuckling. "Guess he knows dear ol' gramps ain't gonna let him get kicked out."

That gave her pause. If Troy Domino had nothing to keep him in line, he might come after her again, and he might not settle for just her camera anymore. He might want revenge.

Troy had been right. Earning their attention had been a big mistake.

When Cissnei looked back down at Reno's ill-treated face, though, those misgivings began to dissipate. It would have been a bigger mistake to walk away and leave him in their clutches. Her father would have been ashamed of her.

"Thanks, by the way," she said. "For helping me."

"Eh, don't mention it. Assholes had it comin'."

"Can't argue with that," she muttered.

He gave her another one of those thoughtful glances, and when he spoke next, his tone wasn't quite so breezy anymore.

"'Sides, seems to me they were only after ya 'cause you got 'em off my back that first day. So, I owed ya. And speakin' of helpin' me out, thanks for givin' me a hand again. With King Bro, I mean."

Cissnei could hear the smack of Troy's head against concrete, recalled the feel of the impact in her fingers. The memory didn't stir any emotions. All she felt was an odd sensation in her belly. It must have been the fish sticks she'd had for lunch.

"You got him off me. Just returning the favor."

"One helluva favor," Reno snickered. "I was sure you'd cracked his damn skull!"

"Serves him right."

Her voice was calm, as it should be – she was just stating a fact, after all – but Reno must have expected something else. The look he gave her was a different kind of thoughtful this time.

"Daaamn. Remind me never to piss you off."

She fixed him with a steady stare and raised an eyebrow. With an awkward chuckle, he reached up to rub the back of his neck.

"Well, uh, any more than I already have. Look... I don't really mean half the dumb shit I say. 'Specially now. Everythin' went to shit a couple weeks ago and I'm still tryin' to wrap my head 'round it. So... No hard feelings, yeah?"

Her eyebrow rose higher.

"You've changed your tune."

"Well... The way I see it, I ain't gettin' outta this mess in a hurry, which means we're gonna be on the same team soon enough. May as well start lookin' out for each other, eh?"

"Wow. You've definitely changed your tune."

There was that dry chuckle again. It wasn't a bad sound, like King– Troy's laughs. Not a bad sound at all.

"Look, it ain't like we're best buddies all of a sudden," he explained. "I just figure that if I'm gonna be stuck here, I could use someone to watch my back, and seems to me you could do with the same with King Bro and pals lurkin' about."

A shiver brought goosebumps to her skin. Odd. It wasn't that cold in here. A draft, maybe.

"It's a fair deal, ain't it?" he added. "Just another favor for a favor, yo."

She had been helpless in their clutches. So utterly helpless. She didn't want to feel that way ever again.

"Okay. No hard feelings."

"Cool."

Reno grinned, then hissed and pressed the back of his hand against his mouth. When he removed it, there was blood on his fingers, and more welled from the cut on his lip.

"Fuckin' ow! Hate it when that happens!"

Cissnei pulled a pack of tissues from her bag and offered one of them to him.

"Thanks," he mumbled before pressing it to his mouth.

As she returned the tissue pack to its pocket, her fingers nudged a tin of lip balm. On a whim, she brought that out for him, too.

"Here. This might help."

She held the lip balm out to him, but he shook his head.

"Nah, can't put that on while it's bleedin'."

"Keep it. Put some on later."

He tilted his head to the side and studied her face with a slight frown.

"Okay," he said slowly and picked it up, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger. He glanced at the lid, then at her. "You are bein' awfully nice, yo."

"It's almost empty," she said, shrugging. "Besides, if you hadn't shown up, I might be the one with a busted lip right now. Favor for a favor."

Cissnei smiled, and he responded with a smile of his own, albeit very carefully.

"What about you, then?" she asked as he slipped the tin into a pocket. "You're off the hook now, right? No detention, or...?"

An odd look flickered across his face before he turned away and huffed.

"They're makin' me get up at the ass-crack o' dawn and do eight laps on the track before breakfast. Assholes."

"You mean running? That's your punishment?"

"Eh, kinda. Pretty sure the ass-crack bit is, anyway," Reno grumbled, grimacing as he dabbed his lip with the tissue. "It's also part of my 'exercise plan' or somethin'. Seems I ain't fit enough for these Turk jaggoffs."

"They gave me more PE too. In the afternoons, though, after school."

"Son of a bitch. I knew Tseng made it seven in the morning just to fuck with me."

A knot had formed in her stomach during her first meeting with Tseng. Every time Reno mentioned the Turk, it pulled a little tighter.

"That Tseng guy... He knew you already, didn't he?"

"Yeah," he snorted. "He's the one who brought me in. Set me up good, the shifty bastard."

He made a face, but Cissnei wasn't sure if it was from the sentiment or just his lip again. He didn't sound particularly hostile, though.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"That he set me up? Hell, yeah. I swear, some day I'm gonna–"

"No, I mean... He's different."

"Is he? Couldn't tell. All you topside assholes look the same to me, yo."

He was grinning. Joking. Cissnei frowned.

"It doesn't bother you at all?"

Reno's grin faded to a more contemplative expression as he peered at her.

"Is this some war thing?"

She huffed. His obliviousness was getting to her.

"Well, yeah. We're at war with Wutai, yet here he is, working in Shinra security?"

"Then he's gotta be a real good Turk or real good spy. Either way, I figure it's worth learnin' a thing or two from him."

She gave him an incredulous stare. How could he be so indifferent about it?

"You don't take this seriously at all, do you?"

Reno sighed and let his hand drop into his lap.

"Look, ya get all sorts down below. People from all parts of the world. Most of us don't give a shit about the war, even the ones from Wutai. Those who do join up just wanna get the hell outta the slums."

Cissnei stared at the bloody tissue in his hand. Easy for him to say. The war hadn't broken his family.

I have to do this. Her dad's word appeared out of nowhere. I have to do this for your mother, and for you. For us.

"My dad died in the war," she said. "In Wutai. He only joined to pay for my mom's medical bills, and they killed him."

Her voice was dead, too; as dead as her dad, as dead as her mom. Her aunt said it wasn't normal. Her aunt could piss off.

Reno was quiet a while, but she kept staring at the red stain on his tissue.

"Sounds like he didn't give a shit about the war either, yo."

She froze. Something simmered beneath the gray, rising slowly until it almost touched the surface. Almost. Then it was gone again.

"You don't know anything about him."

"True that. I'm only hearin' what you're tellin' me."

She snapped up to stare at him, but he had begun gathering up his things from the desk.

"Well, time to go spar with that two-faced sonuvabitch." He rose languidly to his feet and swung his bag over his shoulder, every move telegraphing his lack of enthusiasm. "You comin'?"

Part of her wanted to call him out on what he had meant, but the memory of what had briefly stirred within held her back. For just a few moments, she had sensed the enormity of whatever lurked below. She wanted nothing to do with it. It could stay down there, hidden from all sight – especially her own.

"Sure," she said with a small, forced smile. "I guess I need to learn how to kick King Bro in the nuts next time."

Only when Reno gave a careful grin did she realize she'd used the nickname he'd come up with.

Chapter Text

Reno slumped down on the bench by the wall, still huffing from the struggle to avoid getting his ass handed to him by the Turk. A fist-sized spot on his thigh pulsed in time with his heartbeat, and his shins would no doubt bloom black and blue tomorrow. He took comfort in the knowledge that this Balto bastard would be nursing a few bruises of his own.

Tseng and Cissnei took their places on the mat. The Turk had removed his jacket and tie, but he still looked like he kept a lacquered mahogany stick up his ass, especially next to Cissnei's drab school-issue track pants and polo shirt. Reno let his gaze linger on her. Her clothes were too loose, and her bare arms made him think of twigs snapping in the wind. He frowned and tried to push away the memory of her cornered by those three pumped-up assholes, but for every second that passed, it was harder to just sit there and wait for Tseng to give her the same beatdown he'd just received.

Balto blocked his view as he offered a towel, then took a seat on the bench. The fucker wasn't even winded anymore. Insult to injury.

"So, what do you think of your fellow candidate?"

The question caught Reno off guard. He took his time wiping the sweat off his face before speaking.

"Could be worse," he said with a small shrug. "Could be better."

"You don't like her?"

He shot the Turk a glance from the corner of his eye. Balto watched the other two on the mat with little visible interest, but Reno got the feeling he wasn't just making small talk.

"Didn't say that."

Reno slung the towel around his neck and leaned back against the wall to wait for his breathing to slow down to normal. Cissnei was demonstrating a move he assumed she had learned in that self-defense class he wasn't allowed to take. Her face was set in serious concentration. Always so serious, that girl. The few smiles he'd seen on her had been so faint they barely moved her lips. He wondered how a proper smile might look on her, or even a full-on grin.

"She's very pretty, isn't she? Beautiful, some might say."

Balto was smiling now. It was a well-rehearsed smile, formulated to provide maximum charm with a minimum of effort. He often smiled at Cissnei, Reno had noticed. She had yet to smile back.

"C'mon, man, don't be a creep," he scoffed. "You gotta be at least twice her age."

"Closer to three times her age, yes. Does that bother you?"

Reno felt a twist in his gut, and a swell of anger that tasted like bile. Fuck this guy. Fuck this guy for making him feel that again.

"I've had guys older than you offer me gil for fifteen minutes of alone time with my pretty face," he said, mimicking the Turk's aloof tone. "Does that bother ya?"

Balto raised an eyebrow and gave him a curious look.

"Did you accept?"

Reno scoffed and turned to watch the sparring pair. He tried to ignore the way his skin crawled.

"You're a fuckin' freak, man."

"Freaks are often who we deal with. Above plate, below, and elsewhere. Part of the job." He gave another polished smile. "For the record, these were purely professional questions to gauge your views and reactions. Personally I have no interest in men or in little girls."

The conversation had steered far too close to personal for Reno's liking. He had no desire to keep it going. Come to think of it, he didn't much feel like talking to this guy ever again.

"Still think you're a freak, yo."

The Turk's laughter was a low, modulated sound that made Reno want to punch something.

"You're entitled to your opinion."

This guy. This fucking guy. Reno's chest felt too tight from all the screaming he wasn't doing.

"Gee, thanks for the thumbs up. Can I go take a piss now or do I need your say-so for that too?"

"Technically, yes," Balto said without missing a beat, "but I'm not such a stickler for formalities."

Reno shot up to his feet and stalked out of the room without another word.

Cissnei scooted backward as Tseng took a step forward, then followed him sideways. They had been locked in this strange dance for minutes. Whenever he moved, she had to keep the distance between them even. At first she'd been too preoccupied with the proper movement of her feet to think of anything else, but now her mind had begun to wander.

"Watch your stance. Keep your elbow close."

Tseng spoke with little inflection. His pronunciation was perfect and Cissnei couldn't discern much of an accent. Either he'd had very good teachers in Wutai or he'd lived in Midgar for years.

Would she recognize Wutainese if she heard it? Cissnei wasn't sure. Her dad would have.

"Hands up! Lead with the left."

What would dad say if he saw her now? Dancing with a Wutaian, of all things. He was probably rolling in his grave, wherever it was.

"The left! Focus!"

"Would you let me focus?" she snapped.

"I don't have to do anything. You need to pay attention to the task at hand."

Why did she have to train with Tseng, anyway? Reno had sparred with the other guy. Why couldn't they both just train with him instead? As she followed Tseng in another sidestep, she glanced over to where the other two had sat down. Balto was tapping on his phone, but Reno had disappeared.

Just as Tseng was about to set down his other foot, he lunged forward. Cissnei yelped and hopped backward, throwing out her arm to keep her balance.

"Focus!" he barked. "Start again!"

"I don't have to take orders from a Wit!"

Tseng straightened up and fixed her with a stare.

"As a candidate in this program, you will take orders from your supervisors," he said, clipping out each word. "Find your stance. Start again."

Her dad wouldn't have obeyed one of his kind. Cissnei glared back, straight into his Wit eyes.

Tseng pursed his lips and clasped his hands together behind his back.

"Is there a problem?"

"Your kind killed my dad," she said, matching his calm.

Tseng gave a tight-lipped sort of smile.

"What you call 'my kind' would attempt to kill me the minute I set foot on Wutai soil."

"But you're Wutai."

"No. I am a Turk. I am Shinra. And if you make it through your training, that's what you'll be, too."

Cissnei's frown deepened. She didn't know what her dad would have done in a situation like this.

Tseng observed her coolly. Those dark eyes seemed to pierce straight through her. Lay her bare.

"Do you wish to continue your training?" Tseng asked.

She knew her dad's answer to that question, at least.

"Yes."

"Then find your stance," he said, dropping into one of his own.

When Cissnei arrived back at the dorm, Shalua had already returned from science club and was sitting on her bed with a book in her lap. The girl looked up the moment Cissnei entered their room, and after their hellos she kept watching her with an expectant air.

"I saw you talking to that new boy after class," she finally said.

Cissnei was caught off guard. She'd thought Shalua had left by then.

"Yeah, I talked to him."

She kept unpacking her bag, but glanced at the other girl from the corner of her eye. Shalua was frowning.

"Haven't you heard what he did?" she asked. "He put two guys in hospital!"

"Maybe they got something wrong. He's doesn't seem so bad."

"I thought you said he was a jerk?"

Cissnei had said that, only a few days ago. She had thought it, too.

"Well, he was... He was pretty nice today, though."

"Really? What did he say?"

"He wanted to know if I was okay."

"Why wouldn't you be?" Shalua wondered, her frown deepening.

Cissnei realized her involvement in the fight was unknown to most people. Only Reno knew the whole truth, it seemed, since the principal hadn't called her in to talk about Troy's concussion. She decided to keep it that way.

"Well, I did run off crying the last time I talked to him."

"Good point." Shalua's frown shifted to something more thoughtful. "I guess he's pretty cute," she continued after a while. "I mean, he would be, without that scar on his face. And if he ate more. He may be the tallest boy in class, but he's the thinnest too. And all that red hair sticking out everywhere..."

"It's such a mess. Makes him look like a scarecrow, doesn't it?"

Shalua broke into gleeful laughter.

"Gods, you're right! He does look like a scarecrow! Hart should pay him to patrol around the library. That would keep the pigeons away!"

Cissnei laughed, but it took more effort than usual.

"Oh, speaking of, I got paid today," the other girl continued. "Want to come to the mall tomorrow? I promised Shelke I'd get some marshmallows for Sunday, and there's this really cute skirt I just have to get."

Shalua's part-time job suited her in more ways than one, Cissnei mused. It gave her the opportunity to both buy and wear the outfits she so loved to put together. Cissnei received a monthly allowance paid out of the fund her dad had set up for her, but as a full-time resident at First Sector High, she had little use for pretty skirts and blouses.

"Sure," she said, smiling. "I need to get more film anyway."

The Sunday sky was a uniform gray that dashed Cissnei's hopes for an afternoon with her camera. She headed for the library instead, but once there, she couldn't think of anything she wanted to read. She wandered along one aisle after another, studying the metal and plywood shelves for any eye-catching shapes. Cissnei studied people, too, whenever she got the chance. Today they were few and far between; most students had better things to do on a Sunday afternoon.

In the Psychology section, she came upon the last person she expected to see in a library. Reno sat cross-legged by the wall, hunched over with his nose in a fat textbook. His short-sleeved shirt was untucked and he'd tied the blue sweater around his waist. Cissnei wasn't surprised. The dress code applied in all school buildings except the dorms, but the librarian wasn't very strict about it on weekends.

She was curious, though. Fortunately, Reno was too intent on his reading to notice her until she swooped down and snatched the book from his hands. He started and his whole body tensed, preparing to lunge, but when he saw her face he hesitated.

"Hey!" he called instead as he reached for the book. "I was readin' that!"

"Ssh," she said in a stage whisper, holding it out of his grasp. "You're supposed to be quiet in the library."

He glared up at her, his mouth pressed in a thin line. Up close she could see that the cut was no longer red or swollen, just a darker line of pink across his bottom lip.

"It's homework," he muttered in a voice as sullen as his face.

An answer to a question she hadn't posed. Cissnei's curiosity grew, and she peeked at the cover.

"Since when do you take psychology?"

"I'm doin' more than just your kiddie classes, 'kay?" he snapped.

"Kiddie classes?"

"Hey, y'know what I mean."

It almost sounded like an apology. Something was definitely up with him.

"Want to know what I know?" she asked. "The psychology course is next quarter."

"Yeah, well, this ain't for school. It's... y'know. Turk stuff."

Was that a faint pink creeping onto his cheeks? This was turning out to be more fun than she had expected.

"Turks need psychology?"

"Sure. It's for, like... psyching out the bad guys."

Cissnei snorted, but Reno kept up a defiant stare. Curious to see how desperately he would stick to his excuse, she sat down in front of him and looked over the page he had been reading.

"So, how will this help you 'psych out' a bad guy?"

"Hell if I know," he scoffed. "I mean, look at this." He leaned over and pointed at the heading, then craned his neck for a better look. "In... termite..."

"Intermittent."

"Yeah, that one. The hell does that even mean?"

"I think it means something that happens randomly. Like, it comes and goes, but without any regular rhythm to it."

Reno gave her a long look, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"That right?" he said. "Think you can figure out the rest of it, too?"

"I can give it a try. Let's see..." She nudged the book into a more comfortable position on her knees and began to read. "Intermittent explosive disorder is characterized by repeated, impulsive episodes of aggressive, violent outbursts which are grossly out of proportion to the situation."

Reno shuffled to her side and looked over her shoulder as she read the text out loud, his lips occasionally moving without a sound. He was so close that his leg touched her knee. She had expected him to flinch back at the contact, but maybe he was just too intent on the text to notice. Cissnei made sure to stay absolutely still.

"The episodes are sudden and short-lived. They may be preceded by irritability, racing thoughts, chest tightness, headache..."

From the corner of her eye, she saw him reach up and rub his chest.

"Aggressive acts are often followed by fatigue and an initial sense of relief," she continued, "but later feelings of remorse and embarrassment are not uncommon."

He was quiet a while.

"What's 'fatigue'?"

"Tiredness."

"Oh." He frowned at the page.

"IED often begins in adolescence," she read on, "and appears to be more prevalent in men than women. Other risk factors include exposure to violence in childhood, substance abuse, traumatic–"

"Yeah, yeah, enough about that. How d'ya fix it?"

Cissnei flipped forward until she found the treatment section.

"IED is a chronic disorder that –"

"What's that? 'Chronic'?"

"It means it lasts for a long time."

"Shit."

He hissed it under his breath, so quietly that Cissnei suspected he hadn't meant to say it at all. She pretended not to hear it and continued reading.

"Cognitive behavioral therapy is commonly used to aid the patient in identifying triggers and controlling the outbursts."

"What's that then?"

"I think it means you talk to a shrink."

"Fan-freakin'-tastic," he groaned.

"Well, this also mentions some drugs –"

"Fuck no!" he exclaimed as he jerked his head back. "I've been clean a whole year, and I'm gonna stay that way!"

"Not those kinds of drugs. Medical ones, like antidepressants."

"Whatever! I ain't takin' anythin' that screws with my head!"

"So, that's what you have? IED?"

He flinched and stared at her like a deer caught in headlights. She didn't look away. After a few moments, he exhaled and slumped back against the bookshelf.

"The shrink wrote down a bunch of letter combos like that," he said, speaking in a monotone with his eyes fixed on the page. "This was one of 'em. Had a question mark after, tho'."

"You're seeing the school counselor?"

"Nah. They got me some guy from Shinra HQ." He sighed and glanced up at her. "Look, it ain't like I'm some psycho. They're just makin' me go to this anger management thing."

His whole face seemed different now that he had lost the sneer. His eyes were so wary, like a puppy that expected to be kicked.

"I don't think you're a psycho," she said.

Reno studied her face a while longer. Some of the tension uncurled from his shoulders, and he even smiled. Then his gaze dropped to the textbook in her lap and his smile twisted into a scowl. He slammed the book shut.

"Guess I ain't a-okay either."

Had Cissnei been playing the best friend, she would have contradicted him in a fuss of encouraging words. It didn't seem right, though, to play a role when his own mask had slipped and shown something he would have liked to keep hidden. When they both knew he was right. The words would ring hollow.

Cissnei stayed silent, her knee still touching his thigh.

Reno sat still a while, staring at the cover of the book.

"What's it like? Bein'... y'know. Normal."

The snort slipped out before she could stop it. Reno's face hardened. He looked on the verge of saying more, but then he pulled away from her and began to push himself up to his feet instead.

"You're asking the wrong person," Cissnei blurted. "My aunt thought there's something wrong with me. She dropped me off at the Shinra Home for Girls three days after they told us my dad had died."

Reno had paused, with one knee still on the floor. He watched her with an odd expression that she wasn't able to read. He probably thought she was weird. Why had she told him all that? She wasn't thinking straight. Maybe she was falling ill. Her face felt hot.

"What about your mom?" he asked.

"She died years ago. Cancer."

He sighed and sank back down to sit beside her.

"Damn. That sucks, yo."

"That's why my dad signed up with the army, you know. They offered to pay for her treatments. Then the next year she died anyway, and Dad got sent to Wutai, and I had to move in with aunt Esme."

"At least you had somewhere to go."

"Oh, lucky me," she scoffed. "Dear auntie sent me to Shinra's boarding school and every summer camp she could find, so she wouldn't have to have me around. She hated me."

"Well, fuck her. You ain't so bad, if ya ask me." Looking out through the window, he smiled that wry smile of his. "Not that anyone 'round here does."

"You're not so bad yourself."

His smile changed as he looked back at her. Then he snorted softly and shook his head.

"Y'know, I keep wonderin' how the Turks got their paws on ya."

"They offered me a place on their program."

"What, they just asked nicely?"

Cissnei wasn't sure what to make of the sarcasm in his voice.

"Well... Yeah," she said, shrugging.

His mouth fell open.

"Seriously? And you said yes? Why the fuck would ya do that?"

"It's what my dad did. He joined Shinra to keep people safe."

"D'ya actually know what Turks do?" He responded to her frown with one of those throaty chuckles and shook his head again. "'Sides, that just says what your dad wanted. What about you?"

"I... I knew the Youth Program would give me a job at Shinra eventually. The principal says it's a good career."

"You ain't answerin' my question, y'know."

Cissnei stared at him, examining his face. She couldn't figure out what kind of answer he was looking for.

Reno smiled again, but this time there was something melancholy about it.

"If they asked ya nicely, they might let ya go nicely too, if you change your mind quick enough," he said as he rose to his feet. "Ya might wanna think about that, yo."

She watched him leave, his words laying as heavy on her as the textbook in her lap.

Chapter Text

The classroom was filled with the sound of pencils scraping on paper. They were so quick, those scratches. Reno peeked at his closest neighbor out of the corner of his eye. Her pencil danced across the paper with short little rasps, so fast that it seemed like one continuous sound. He looked back to his own sheet and pressed out an "e" on it, followed by an "s" in a long, uneven scrape. The girl next to him must have written a whole sentence in the same time.

Reno glanced at the clock and swore under his breath. Had it really taken half an hour to answer three fucking questions? That was only half the short ones. After those he still had an essay question to go, and his index finger already hurt so much it was hard to hold the pencil. His whole damned hand was beginning to cramp. He set it down and flexed his fingers.

Tseng had told him he needed to pass his courses. All his courses. And to pass courses, he needed to pass tests. He couldn't afford to be so damned slow!

Reno labored through a few more sentences of the short story while he gave his fingers a break, then snatched up the pencil again and formulated his next answer. By the time he'd scrawled down the last letter, his index finger felt like it was on fire. He checked the time again. Ten minutes left. Fuck.

Reno's hand formed a fist around the pencil as he stared at the test sheet in front of him. Why had he even tried? He should have known he wouldn't make it. Slum trash never made it.

Fuck it. Just fuck this shit. What use was Lit class to a Turk, anyway? The bad guys he'd known didn't go around writing novels about the fucked-up shit they did.

Gritting his teeth, Reno moved the pencil to his left hand and put the paper to better use.

Cissnei glanced down her Lit test. A neat column of ticks ending in an A, with "Excellent work!" written underneath in red ink. Just as she had expected.

Mr. Nesbitt had finished handing out the corrected tests and returned to his desk.

"Settle down, class. We still have a few minutes, so let's spend them wisely." He took a moment to scan the class. "Mr. Reno. Page sixty-three, from the top."

Cissnei watched from the corner of her eye as the redhead dragged the book into his lap and cleared his throat.

"Once upon a time, there was a was an island out in the middle of nowhere. On this island was a volcano, that spewed fire and ashes at the smallest hint of annoyance." Muffled giggles spread in the classroom, but Reno continued unperturbed. "The locals worshipped the volcano as a god, but it was a false–"

"Mr. Reno," Mr. Nesbitt interrupted in a carefully honed tone of long-suffering patience, "what are you doing?"

Smirking, Reno leaned back and slung one elbow over the back of his chair.

"Tellin' a story, 'course."

"You're meant to read the one in the book."

"Mine's better, yo."

Mr. Nesbitt opened his mouth, but the ring of the bell drowned out his first word.

"Saved by the bell, Mr. Reno," he called, raising his voice to be heard over the scraping of chairs and desks. "We'll continue this next time."

Reno threw up his hand in a wave that was more like a dismissal than an acknowledgement, then gathered up his things. When he picked up his test, his sneer vanished. He scrunched up the paper into a ball and threw it in the trash by the teacher's desk on his way out.

Cissnei hurried to return her book to the teacher's desk with the main rush. As she leaned over the end of the desk to place the book on the stack, she knocked a pen into the trash can.

"Oh! Sorry, Mr. Nesbitt!"

She ducked down to retrieve it and handed it to the teacher. A few of the others giggled, but no one noticed the crumpled wad of paper in her other hand as she scurried back to her desk.

Two minutes later Cissnei sat in a bathroom stall and smoothed out Reno's test against the books in her lap. Half the page was filled with doodling. A bunch of chocobos raced down one side, barely avoiding a pair of brawling insectoid monsters. At the bottom, a volcano with a face that was remarkably reminiscent of Mr. Nesbitt spewed lava over a classroom full of terrified stick-figure students.

A few of the questions were answered, but the handwriting was atrocious. "I won't even try to decipher this mess," the teacher had written next to them in red ink. Cissnei squinted at the scrawls in pencil. Reno's spelling was even worse than his writing, but little by little she was able to figure most of it out. The sentences were stunted and he had only answered questions about the first third of the story. The replies were correct, though.

With a frown, Cissnei folded the paper and slipped it between her books.

She spotted him just by the school house exit, standing before Troy Domino and his goons. So, the bro squad had returned. She couldn't make out what they were saying to him, but she heard his reply loud and clear.

"Blow me."

Reno tried to move around them, but Troy stepped out and smacked into him with his shoulder. Reno needed a couple of hasty steps to keep his balance. A wild-eyed grimace contorted his face into something nigh demonic. Cissnei held her breath, waiting for the explosion.

"Stay the fuck away from me!"

He pushed past Troy and practically fled through the front doors.

Cissnei had to take the long way around to avoid the snickering trio. By the time she was outside, Reno was nowhere to be seen.

The hush of a library full of students was still too loud for Cissnei. Even the crinkle of a sharply turned page was enough to break her concentration and send her thoughts adrift. Drifting to Reno, mostly, and the previous day's altercation in the hallway. She hadn't seen him since.

She thought of his remarks about the Turks, her dad, herself... How did he always manage to jab at her weakest spots?

Reno was so averse to the Turks, yet he wouldn't give her his reasons. Maybe he didn't have any. Maybe he was just angry at the world in general, and the Turks were the latest ones to earn his ire by catching him.

They didn't seem so bad to her. While she still couldn't think of Tseng without tightening her jaw, Balto seemed nice. He'd told her he spoke three languages, and encouraged her to pick up one or two while she was in high school. Cissnei liked that idea. She'd been fluent in Costan once, but had neglected the language after her mother died. She'd had no one to speak to.

The Turk had also talked of missions abroad. Frequent ones. The guy spent more time out of Midgar than in it. She could do the same, if she joined. Get away from this place.

The sudden yearning took Cissnei by surprise, but the intensity of it could not be denied. It coated the gray inside of her like a film of oil, shimmering in all the colors of the rainbow, until it had seeped into every inch of her. She didn't want to live in Midgar, where the smog sucked the life out of everything. She wanted sun, and beaches, and... and living. Not this mere existence, floating on a metal plate under a dead gray sky.

So selfish, that wish. It wasn't what her dad would have chosen... but he was gone, and if Reno was right, he wouldn't have chosen a soldier's career either. This was what she wanted, and the Turks could give her that.

She wanted.

Something shifted in her. Something so deep that it didn't reach the surface, but Cissnei could sense it. Was it good or bad? She didn't know the answer, only that it was there, that it had happened.

The distant thump of a book hitting a desk knocked Cissnei out of her reverie, and she realized she'd been staring at the same sentence for the past five minutes. With a huff, she stuffed the book in her bag and headed for the exit.

She stopped just outside the front doors, at the top of the stone staircase. The air hung still and quiet over the yard. At this hour most students were at the library or in their rooms, doing homework. Cissnei had just fled the former, and had no desire to join Shalua in the latter.

She let her gaze drift across the quadrangle, watching the buildings painted orange by the evening sun. A cloudless sky was rare in Midgar; she had never before seen the strange, elongated shapes the shadows cast across the yard. Cissnei studied them for a while, then dug out her camera from her bag.

The thought of going down behind the school building made her stomach churn, though. She headed in the opposite direction.

The administration building was dark, as she expected at this time in the evening, and the small lawn behind it was empty. The emaciated apple tree was bathed in golden light, and its branches created an intricate mesh of silhouettes on the ground. She strolled around the tree and snapped a few pictures of the shadow-play, then scanned the buildings around the lawn for more subjects. A deep alcove in the wall of the administration building drew her eye. The angle of the sun cut it diagonally into two halves of light and dark, leaving the back of it obscured in shadow.

Someone sat in the dark corner of the alcove. Their upper body was hidden in the shadows, but she could tell it was a man, the red glow of a lit cigarette between his fingers. Cissnei tensed, but when he leaned forward to lift the smoke to his lips, the lower half of his face came into view. She let out her breath and made her way over to him.

"Didn't see you in Lit class this morning."

"Lit class sucks," Reno said, with no particular emotion.

"Well, not for long. Just a couple of weeks until next quarter."

"You ask me, that's about two weeks too long."

He sat with one leg propped up close to his chest and the other stretched out before him. The smoke he breathed out rose in lazy tendrils and pooled in the alcove.

"Smoking is banned on school grounds," she commented, for want of something better to say.

"Tell that to King Bro. He's the one I got 'em from. Want one?"

He pulled out a flattened pack from the back pocket of his jeans and held it out toward her. Nine cigarettes remained. She eyed them, wondering if the taste was better than the smell. Something had to make people want to do it. Even her dad had picked up the habit while he was deployed.

Don't ever start, he had told her whenever she had caught him. Be a smart girl. They're bad for you.

Cissnei shook her head.

"Troy gave them to you?" she wondered.

Reno snickered. "'Course he didn't give 'em to me. Maybe next time he'll think twice 'bout crashin' into me like a two-ton truck made of asshole."

"You stole them? What if he..."

She trailed off as she realized what she had been about to say.

"...Tells someone I nabbed the smokes he ain't s'posed to have?" he finished for her with a smug grin on his face.

"Yeah. I get it."

He kept his cigarette between his lips while he worked the pack into his back pocket. His movements disturbed the still air and sent some of the smoke her way. Cissnei wrinkled her nose.

"Those are bad for you, you know."

"Now you sound like my ma." He took the cigarette from his mouth and raised the lit end toward his face, his lips curling slightly as he watched the thin wisp of smoke rise toward the ceiling. "She woulda kicked my ass if she'd caught me smokin'."

"Clearly you're not worried about that right now."

"You're right about that," he mumbled, and took a slow, deep drag as if to prove it.

"What if she hears about it and takes a train above-plate to kick your ass?"

He huffed softly and turned his face away to stare at the wall.

"What?" she wondered.

"Take a wild guess, Miss Top-of-the-Class."

His voice had gone flat, and Cissnei belatedly realized he had spoken of his mother in the past tense.

"She's... gone?"

"Bingo."

She should have guessed. Of all people, she should have been able to guess.

"What about your dad?"

He shrugged. "Must've had one, I guess."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that's all I know 'bout him, and that's A-okay by me. I ain't gonna give a shit about some useless fucker who couldn't even stick around 'til I was born."

Cissnei frowned. She knew what it was like to lose a parent, but to have never had one at all? Would one miss them? Was it even possible to miss someone you'd never known?

Reno didn't seem inclined to answer such questions, that much was clear.

"Mind if I join you for a bit?" she asked.

"Suit yourself, yo."

Cissnei placed her camera in her bag, then pulled out the textbook she had tried to read at the library.

"Heh. D'ya ever stop studyin'?"

"Of course I do," she said, rolling her eyes, "but the biology exam is this week."

"Eh, whatever."

He leaned back against the wall, one arm propped up on his bent knee. His hand dangled down, so loose and relaxed that she wondered how he was able to keep the cigarette wedged between his fingers. Cissnei sat down on the sunlit side to his right, next to his outstretched leg. She made sure not to touch it as she settled into a cross-legged position with her book on her knees.

A folded sheet of notepaper marked the start of the chapter on arthropod physiology. Cissnei leafed forward a couple of pages and sought out the passage she had struggled with before.

It wasn't exactly quiet, but the sounds of traffic were so muted by the tall concrete walls of the grounds that she could hear Reno's slow inhale and exhale. Out here, warmed by the embers of the setting sun, she found the peace and focus that had eluded her in the library. It was only a matter of minutes before she turned the page.

"Hey, I know that thing."

She glanced up. Reno was looking at the page with half-lidded eyes.

"This?" she asked, pointing at the picture of a green insect with shimmering wings and long segmented legs. "The kimara?"

"We call 'em spindlebugs below plate. 'Cause they're all, y'know, spindly."

Cissnei studied the picture, her eyes lingering on the wicked barbs at the ends of the forelimbs. The text said the kimara could grow as tall as a person.

"These things live down there?"

"We see 'em from time to time, yeah. Nothin' for months, and suddenly a whole bunch of 'em will crawl outta some hole. They never last long, tho'. They may be big and scary-lookin', but there's a lotta hungry people down below."

She turned her head to stare at him. He didn't seem to be joking.

"You mean... No. You didn't...?"

"They ain't bad roasted, y'know," he said, grinning. "Kinda like jerky that tastes like peanuts."

"You're kidding me."

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it, yo."

"I guess it can't be worse than the so-called 'stew' they serve here."

Reno chuckled and stretched forward to tap his ash into a stubborn thatch of weeds that sprouted by the side of the doorstep.

"You got that right."

Cissnei turned her attention back to the page and scanned through the rest of the text.

"There's nothing in the book about kimaras living in the slums."

"Really? That's weird."

"Yeah. It says here that they live in the Gongaga region. See?"

She pointed at a line on the page, and Reno leaned in for a look.

"Gon-ga-ga," he mumbled, then snickered. "Heh. Gone gaga. Where's that, anyway?"

"On the western continent. Down south, I think."

"Huh. That's a long way for bugs to fly. Hey, think some weirdo might've kept 'em as pets, and some of 'em escaped?"

"Pets? Those things?"

Reno grinned.

"I did say 'weirdo'. There was a guy a few houses down from ours who caught a Kalm fang pup and tried to raise it as a watchdog. It, uh, didn't go so well."

"It attacked him?"

"Yup, and a couple others. Had to be put down. Just so ya know, fangs don't taste that great. All tough and stringy."

He stuck out his tongue, grimacing. She gave him an incredulous look.

"Do you eat everything that comes your way?"

"'Course I do," he said with a shrug. "I wanna keep on livin', don't I?"

Cissnei dropped her gaze, at a loss for what to say to that. His right arm rested on his thigh, bare up to the sleeve of his t-shirt. A reddish line of scar tissue began just above his elbow and zagged diagonally up toward his bicep, maybe two inches in length. She could see other lines beneath his skin: tendons, ropes of muscle, blood vessels, the bones of his hand. In the evening glow, they formed a shadowy landscape of ridges and valleys.

"Hey," he said, rousing her out of her observation, "what else does it say 'bout these bugs?"

"Well, let's see..."

Reno shuffled a bit closer and craned his neck to look at the page. As she read out loud, she made sure to follow the lines with her finger.

"The kimara catches prey by spitting a fluid that is produced by silk glands in its mouthparts. The fluid congeals on contact into a sticky mass that immobilizes its prey."

"Congeals," Reno repeated, rolling the word over his tongue. "That's the word for going from fluid to somethin' hard, yeah?"

"Pretty much."

"And the mouthparts are, like, their fangs and stuff?"

"Yeah. These are called mandibles," she pointed at the lowest set of appendages on the bug's head, "and they're just for biting and holding. I guess the glands are in one of the smaller pairs."

"Huh. So, I'm guessin' the silk glands aren't used for shooting goo out of their butts?"

"Ew, they do that?"

"Yeah," he said, grinning. "Smells fuckin' awful, yo."

"Gods!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "I'm never going to Gongaga."

"Better stay away from the slums, too," he chuckled. "So, does it say anythin' about the butt spray here?"

It turned out to be a defensive mechanism for driving off large predators. Once they had finished the section on kimaras, they continued with the next bug, and then the next. Reno recognized several of them and often had more to say about their behavior than the book did – along with detailed tasting notes.

She found him in the same spot the next evening. This time, they went through the chapter on birds.

Chapter Text

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound was faint, just enough to pull Cissnei from the edge of slumber. She opened her eyes, but could make out little in the dark.

Tap, tap, tap.

That was definitely not her imagination. She pulled the covers back and sat up, straining her ears. She kept the lights off. Shalua was still asleep.

Tap, tap, tap.

Cissnei got up and tiptoed to the window. She lifted the curtain and peeked out. Someone else peeked back.

She flinched and dropped the curtain, but managed to stifle her yelp. With a huff, she drew the curtain back and opened the window.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "It's past curfew!"

Reno poked his head in, a big grin on his face.

"Hiya, Ciss," he whispered. "You game for a lil' adventure?"

"What?"

"Nothin' dangerous or anythin'. Just a lil' bit of sneakin' around all sneaky-like."

"Sneaking," she repeated slowly.

"Gotta know how to sneak if you're gonna be a Turk, yo!"

Cissnei hesitated. She wasn't supposed to leave her room after curfew, but she hadn't seen him since the biology exam that morning. The alcove by the apple tree had been empty every time she passed it, and he hadn't been at the running track either. She'd heard no gossip about him over lunch and dinner.

The buzz had been about Troy Domino instead. Apparently his alarm clock had woken him up in the middle of the night – along with a few of his neighbors. Half an hour later another alarm had rung under his bed. The third one had been in his wardrobe. The fourth taped to the wall behind his desk. Though she couldn't remember the rest of the hiding places, she knew there had been two more, because in the morning five guys from the swim team had woken up late and wondered where the hell their alarm clocks had gone.

She'd already had her suspicions about the culprit. Now, watching him bounce outside her window after dark like a puppy eager to play, those suspicions solidified into certainty.

"C'mon, you'll like it. Sneaky's fun."

Exam week was over. Tomorrow was Saturday. Cissnei glanced over at the other bed. Shalua lay still, her breathing still deep and steady.

"Give me a minute," she whispered, then closed the drapes.

Reno was there when she returned, ready to help her climb out. They took off at a jog, following the side of the dorm. When they reached the squat building between the two dorms, he headed toward the back of it.

"We're going to the dining hall?" she asked, peeking into the dark windows along the way.

"The kitchen, more like. That's where they keep the good stuff at night."

They came to a halt by the back door. Reno slowly scoped their surroundings as he reached into his pocket. Whatever he pulled out was small enough to fit inside his hand.

"Keep an eye out, yeah?"

Cissnei glanced around as he dropped down to one knee by the door. She heard a quiet rattle, followed by a soft click. When she looked back at him, he was poking two pins into the lock.

"You can pick locks?"

"Uh huh. Won't be long. It's just a simple pin tumbler."

"Isn't it illegal to do that?"

"Depends. Right now, sure, but we're already breakin' the rules, so eh." The lock clicked again. "You can always head back if ya want, but you're gonna miss out on a good time, yo."

Cissnei looked around again. Her arms and legs were tingling. In fact, her whole body felt alive with a low-key buzz. She liked it.

"What are those?" she asked. "What you're using?"

"Hairpins. Got 'em off that brown-haired girl with the braces."

"Trinny?" Cissnei felt a strange sort of lurch in her stomach and looked away. "I knew she likes you," she muttered.

"She does?" Another quiet click, followed by his chuckle. "Damn, now I feel kinda bad 'bout sneakin' into her room."

She whipped her head back around. "You broke into the girls' dorm?"

"Hey, it ain't like I did anythin' weird! I just wanted hairpins. The paperclips they got 'round here ain't worth shit."

Cissnei just stared at him. She wasn't sure if she should be creeped out or impressed. Both, maybe.

"If I'd known she liked me, tho'," he continued in a conversational tone, "I might've just asked her. Figured they all hate the dumb, smelly slum rat."

Click.

She watched his hands, steady and firm as he guided the hairpins in the lock. It clearly wasn't the first time he'd picked a lock.

"It was you, wasn't it? You pulled that alarm prank on Troy Domino."

A grin formed on his face, both wicked and smug.

"Heard about that, did ya?"

"Everyone's heard about it. They're all trying to figure out how it was possible."

"Eh, wasn't that hard. Gotta be real damn quick and real damn quiet, s'all. Just so happens that I'm real damn both."

The lock clicked one more time, and Reno swung the door open.

"Ta-dah," he drawled and gestured her inside with a ridiculous bow. "After you, milady."

The tingling in Cissnei's limbs intensified as she stepped into the darkened hallway. It stretched on toward the dining hall, long enough that she couldn't see the end of it in the dim light from the yard. She had never been in this part of the building before. Was it always this spooky?

"'Kay, the kitchen's the second door on the left," Reno said under his breath. "Get in there and turn on the lights. Keep the other lights off, tho', in case someone walks past. I'll hold the door open so you can see where you're goin'."

She made her way along the corridor with hesitant steps. Though she tried to keep quiet, her footfalls seemed to ring out in the darkness. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry.

"A lil' faster, yeah?" Reno whispered. "Don't wanna stand here all night, yo."

Cissnei forced her legs to pick up the pace. She cracked open the kitchen door and peeked in, but everything was pitch black. She slipped in a hand and fumbled along the side of the door until her fingers hit a switch. The sudden flash of fluorescent light stabbed into her eyes and forced them shut. She was still blinking away the spots when she heard Reno's voice right beside her.

"Time to get this party started, eh?"

He sauntered through the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, heading straight for a door in the back. Cissnei took her time as she followed him, studying her surroundings. She'd seen glimpses of the kitchen through the double doors in the dining hall, but she'd never noticed how shiny everything was. The tables and shelves were all stainless steel, as were the trolleys and the ovens and other contraptions she couldn't name. It was like she'd snuck into a secret world made of mirrors.

"In here, Ciss."

Reno stood in a doorway and held the door open until she stepped in. The room was small and narrow, maybe half the size of the one she shared with Shalua. Three of the walls were lined with shelves, stacked full of jars and bags and cardboard boxes.

"Grab just a lil' bit of this and that, yeah?" As Reno spoke, he tore off the lid of a plastic container and nabbed a slice of toast, then poured jam on it straight from the jar. "A few slices of bread here, a bit of jam there. Don't want 'em to notice stuff missin'."

As Cissnei followed his example and made herself a jam sandwich, Reno skipped to the shelves on the far wall.

"Ooh hoo, Honey Crunch! Awesome."

Grinning, he poured out a layer of cereal on the jam and topped it all off with a handful of raisins. He bit into his creation and closed his eyes, groaning with satisfaction as he chewed.

"You make the weirdest sandwiches," Cissnei remarked and took a bite out of her own. Just strawberry jam, nothing else.

"Don't knock it 'til ya try it," he mumbled through a mouth full of sandwich.

"And you have the worst table manners."

"Don't need 'em. Ain't no table in here, yo."

He grinned, his cheeks all puffed up from the food, and she couldn't help but smile as she shook her head.

Before she was even halfway done with her sandwich, Reno was making a second one.

"Don't bother bringin' anything back, by the way," he said, slathering a thick layer of jam on his toast. "Tried that a couple times, but the cleaner always found it and took it away. Stingy fuckers."

"Doesn't that mean they know you're breaking in here?" she wondered, frowning, but Reno just shrugged.

"Eh, they prob'ly think I stuffed my pockets at dinner or somethin'. But hey, I could be wrong. Maybe they do know and just figure it's cheaper to have me sneak in for a snack than to get locks that'll keep me out." As he put the jam back on the shelf, his face lit up with a grin. "Oh, hey, peanut butter! How'd I miss that?"

"At the rate you're going, I'm not so sure it's cheaper," she teased, watching as he fetched a spoon and wrenched a gob out from the jar. "Did they forget to feed you at dinner?"

"They didn't feed me enough, that's for sure," he grumbled, reaching for the cereal. "D'ya know I gotta run twelve laps now? I'm fuckin' starvin' by the time they serve breakfast in this joint."

"You could just ask the kitchen lady for more, you know."

"Tried," he said, munching on his second monster sandwich. "Bitch wouldn't gimme any. Said I was already eatin' more than everyone else and that I got some bullshit meal plan I gotta stick to."

"Hang on. You're on a diet?"

"I guess, but it ain't to lose weight. The Shinra doc said I was too skinny." He swallowed the last mouthful and licked his fingers, then gave her a toothy grin. "So... Ready to raid the fridges?"

He led the way to three massive stainless steel doors just outside the pantry and opened the one on the right, revealing shelves stocked full of little green and orange cartons.

"Thirsty?" he asked and tossed her one of them before she could answer.

The middle fridge contained a number of round metal tins covered in plastic wrap. Cissnei peeked into one of them. It contained a pale pink goo that looked an awful lot like cheesecake in the process of setting.

"Those are for the cafeteria," Reno said with a wistful sigh. "Can't touch any of it. Bit too obvious to have a slice go missin', y'know."

He gave the cakes one more longing look, then moved on to the last fridge.

"Jackpot! Was hopin' they'd have some of these left."

Cissnei peeked in to see a several rows of pale yellow plastic pots. The vanilla pudding they'd had for dessert that day, she recognized.

"How many d'ya want?" Reno asked, waggling his eyebrows. "Two? Six?"

"Just the one will do," she said, laughing.

"You sure? There's plenty of 'em here."

"Well..." She eyed the stacks of pudding, biting her lip. "Maybe two."

Chuckling, he threw her a couple, then piled up several in his hands.

She grabbed a spoon and sat down with her loot, leaning back against a cardboard box under the shelves. Before Reno took a seat on the opposite side of the aisle, he snatched up a roll of kitchen towels and set it down between them, giving her a grin.

"See? Table manners."

"I stand corrected," she said dryly, though with a smile.

"So, here's to the end of the first quarter." He leaned forward and nudged her juice box with his. "Good riddance."

"No more Mr. Nesbitt."

"Yeah," Reno said, raising his juice in a salute, "and no more frickin' letter math!"

"Sorry to break it to you, but you're wrong about that. Algebra 2 comes next."

He groaned and slumped back against the fridge, thumping his head into it. While she sipped her orange juice, he stared up at the ceiling. A thoughtful look arrived on his face.

"There's a psych course next quarter, yeah?" he said after a while. "Why ain't we on it?"

"We're meant to take it later. Third or fourth year."

His gaze fell, and so did his expression. "Oh. Damn."

"What?"

"I ain't gonna be here that long. I'll join the Turks next year."

She hadn't considered that. It made sense though. He may have been in her year, but he was older than her and knew things she didn't, like how to break into kitchens at night. He didn't need the full program.

Still, it was difficult to imagine Reno in the black and white Turk uniform. He was vibrant, with his bright red hair and his turquoise eyes. His personality, his body language, his way of talking; everything about him was an explosion of color. Even his silly sandwiches. Next to him, she was gray.

That didn't seem right for the Turk suit, either. Too few colors. Just a single shade of gray.

Her throat felt tight. She cleared it and spoke up to get rid of the sensation.

"You want to take psych?"

"I guess," he said, shrugging. "I'm thinkin' maybe it would help. With... y'know."

Cissnei had picked up one of the pudding cups and was about to tear off the foil, but that made her pause and look up. Reno had a cup in his hands too, but he just sat staring at it as he twirled it around.

"You mean your... IED, right?"

"That, and the other stuff. I thought maybe..." He frowned, his gaze flickering across the room until he huffed and slumped back again. "Fuck, I dunno. It's a stupid idea, ain't it? Shit."

It was as if a weight had fallen on him, pushing down his shoulders. Dulling his colors. She didn't like it at all.

"I don't think it's stupid," she said.

He gave her a wary peek beneath his bangs.

"Really? You ain't just sayin' that, are ya?"

"Really. You should do it."

He gave her a small smile, then sighed.

"Eh, guess it don't matter anyway. I ain't gonna be here for it."

He would leave. In less than a year he'd be gone, just like her mom, and her dad. Everyone left her. Even her stupid aunt. Sooner or later, they all left her.

Her throat tightened again. She picked up the juice and took several sips, but no matter how many times she swallowed, the feeling wouldn't go away.

Then she felt wetness trickle down her cheeks.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Reno asked, alarm in his voice.

"It's nothing," she said quickly, blinking away the moisture. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit," he scoffed. "If it's nothin' then how come you're sad all of a sudden?"

"Sad...?"

She stared at him, trying to figure out what he meant. She knew what sadness was, of course. She'd seen it in her dad for years. She'd seen it in her aunt. In others.

"Yeah," Reno said, giving her an odd look. "You're cryin'."

"I don't know why that happens." Cissnei wiped her eyes and studied the moisture on her fingers. "I don't feel sad. My throat gets tight, and then my chest. Sometimes it feels so tight that it hurts."

"Sure sounds like feelin' sad to me."

She shook her head. "But it's all physical. The tightness, the tears, they're all to do with my body."

"So? 'Course your body's gonna react. It's part of you, ain't it? If you feel sad, your body's gonna feel a certain way. It'll be somethin' different when you're happy."

She frowned. That didn't sound right at all.

"But feelings come from the soul."

Reno's mouth twisted into something that was not quite a smile.

"Heh. The people at the Sector Two shelter kept goin' on about souls too. Said our souls come from the Lifestream or somethin', but I dunno 'bout that. Where'd you hear about 'em?"

"Aunt Esme. She says I don't have one."

He tilted his head to the side and looked at her with a puzzled frown.

"Why'd she say that?"

"She thinks that's why I can't feel anything. Maybe she's right. I didn't feel sad when mom died. I didn't feel anything."

Twin tears rolled down her cheeks. Reno's frown deepened to a scowl.

"You ask me, your aunt's full of shit. If we do have souls, then we've all got 'em. That's what they said at the shelter, and those guys spend their whole damn lives thinkin' about that stuff. I'd take their word over your bitch aunt's, yo."

She wiped the wetness off her face, giving it some thought. His argument made a certain kind of sense, but...

"If they're right, then why don't I feel anything? Something has to be missing."

Reno watched her with narrowed eyes as he took a long sip from his juice.

"Seems to me you do feel things. Your throat getting tight, the cryin', the hurt in your chest... That's all part of feelin' sad. You are feelin' sad, but you just don't know it."

"Huh."

Cissnei tried to recall that day. She remembered the look on her dad's face and the awful hospital smell, but she couldn't remember feeling anything. Not in her soul, not in her body. She had just been empty back then. No tight chest, no crying. In the present, though, the tears kept flowing and the ache just grew and grew.

"I think I need to see the nurse," she whispered between gasps for air. "I can't breathe properly."

Reno sighed and set down his juice, then scooted up beside her.

"I know whatcha need, and it ain't the damn nurse. C'mere."

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer until her head touched his bony chest, then wrapped his other arm around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Then he just sat there, still and warm and quiet, holding her. Her breathing worsened, becoming hiccupping sobs.

"It's not working," she wailed between gulps for air. "It's getting worse!"

"Shh, it's all right," he mumbled. "It'll get better. It's all gotta come out first, and then it'll get better. I promise."

"It won't! I can't breathe!"

She clutched his t-shirt in her fists, stretching the fabric as she tried to pull him closer. His hand began to move up and down, rubbing her back in a slow rhythm.

"Yes, you can. It's all right, Ciss. I won't let anythin' bad happen to ya. Just close your eyes and let it all out."

She squeezed her eyes shut, her body quaking with every desperate gasp. Nothing was changing. She sucked in air between every sob, dead certain each one would be her last. This wasn't normal. It couldn't be normal to react like this! Her lungs weren't working right anymore. She was drowning. She was on dry land, and she was drowning!

But Reno kept stroking her back, murmuring words she was too panicked to make out. He knew feelings, didn't he? He had to. He had too much of them. He had to know what was going on, and he didn't seem worried. Cissnei clung to that thought like her hands clung to his shirt. He said it would get better. He promised. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. He promised.

"Better now?"

His quiet question made her realize she wasn't gasping anymore. Her breathing was still heavy, but it was no longer ragged from lack of control. The tears had run dry. Carefully, Cissnei pulled out of his hold.

"I... I think so."

Reno gave her a small smile. "See? Told ya."

He stretched forward to reach the roll of paper towels, tore off several squares and offered them to her. Cissnei wiped her cheeks, then blew her nose. The pressure inside her was gone. Her limbs felt heavy, but the rest of her body seemed lighter. She wondered if that could be another feeling, or if it was just the absence of sadness.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "You're nicer than you look."

"Yeah, well, don't spread it 'round. Got a rep to keep, y'know?"

He winked, flashing her a toothy grin. She smiled faintly.

"Hey, I saw some cocoa powder in the cupboard," he continued. "Any chance you know how to make hot cocoa?"

Cissnei's tentative smile grew wider.

"Sure. I've got my own special recipe."

"Awesome. Let's do it, yo."

He hopped up to his feet, then held out his hand. She took it.

Chapter Text

The overcast sky gave off little warmth, but after eight laps Reno could feel his t-shirt clinging to his back. Eight laps, going on nine. Round and round in circles on the flattest surface known to man. No chasing, no fleeing. It should have bored him to tears – yet on more than one occasion he had caught himself looking forward to his morning run.

"Reno!"

He gave a start and looked up to see Tseng waving him in. Someone had joined him during Reno's latest lap. A man in a Turk suit, with messy brown hair that had begun to streak with gray. Veld, Reno recognized with an uneasy flutter in his gut.

He slowed down and jogged toward the two men. They stood still and watched him approach like two suited statues. Acting so damned cool all the time. Reno caught the towel Tseng threw him and buried his face in it. Sweat trickled down his back and his hair was glued to his head in a sticky mess. A towel wasn't going to fix it. Reno wasn't sure why that bothered him.

"You'll have to look where you're going eventually," Tseng said.

"Workin' on it," he mumbled, reluctantly trading the towel for a bottle of water. It was stupid, really. He knew it was; yet looking up at the huge wide nothing above him made his chest so tight he couldn't run properly.

"Talk to Dr. Baxter about it," Veld said. "He can give you tips on how to handle it."

Reno glanced up at him and felt his stomach twist. Veld knew about the shrink, too?

Well, duh. Of course he did. The man in charge of the Turks would know everything about his candidate. Maybe he had been the one to decide Reno needed a shrink in the first place.

Not that he did need one. He talked to the guy, sure, but that was just to... see if he knew his shit. If his "tips" were worth trying.

They had been, so far. Reno could admit that. That didn't mean he needed them, though.

"Sure, whatever."

Tseng held up the stopwatch for Veld.

"His time at nine laps."

Reno watched their faces. Tseng's was as smooth and impassive as ever. Veld's was furrowed with lines. His mouth was a line, too, that tilted down at the corners. Reno had met him once before. When they had caught him. Veld had been present when Tseng explained the deal to him.

Not that "join us or rot down a hole in Corel" was much of a deal.

Veld hadn't said much at the time. He had stood there with his arms crossed over his chest and stared Reno down. Appraising him. Comparing him against Tseng, maybe; against all the other Turks.

Reno's stomach was still twisting. Why was he so anxious all of a sudden?

Veld looked at the stopwatch, then at him.

"You started at eight laps in a little over fourteen minutes, correct? Three weeks ago?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Reno forced himself not to swallow, to keep his hands still on his hips.

"Very good. At this rate you'll be one of the fastest on the team by the time you join us."

Reno stared at him, stunned. The man was smiling. It wasn't much of a smile, but it was definitely there. Veld was smiling at him.

Tseng brought out a sheet of paper.

"Here's the exercise plan for the next two months," he said, handing it to his superior.

"Dr. Uzuki's had a look at it?"

"Yes, she approved it and will adjust the meal plan to suit."

"And you, Reno?" Veld glanced up at him, and Reno nodded.

He and Tseng had gone through the plan together before his run. The Turk had actually asked for his opinion. Though Tseng had made it clear that no exercise wasn't an option, he had listened to Reno's comments without interruptions. He'd even promised to talk to the doctor about Reno's diet.

Maybe Tseng and Veld would listen to other requests, too. They wanted him to be good at his job, right?

Turks need psychology?

Cissnei's question spun around in Reno's head. Did they need it? He had no idea. What if they didn't? What if they thought it was stupid? What if they thought hewas stupid to ask for it?

What if they thought he was too stupid to get it?

The invisible hand that was wringing his guts had moved to his chest and started squeezing his ribs instead. He recognized that feeling now, knew what it meant. Let it out, or let it go. That's what the shrink had told him. Use your words and let it out, or let it go.

He'd been back to the library for the psychology textbook a couple of times, to look up stuff the shrink had mentioned. He couldn't make heads or tails of it. What if he was too stupid to get it?

The hand pressed tighter and made his breaths shallower and shallower.

No, it'd be different in class. He could listen and ask questions. It'd be like sitting on the doorstep with Cissnei and her biology book. That book hadn't made much sense to him on its own, either.

Use your words. Do it. Open your damn mouth and use your goddamn grownup words.

Reno's mouth felt dry as dust, but he opened it.

"Hey, there's somethin' I wanna ask."

Both men looked up from the paper, interrupting their quiet discussion.

"Go on," Veld said.

He licked his lips. No turning back now.

"I heard there's a psychology course next quarter, but it ain't one I'm s'posed to take. Is that... I mean, can I change that?"

Veld's eyebrows rose. He exchanged a look with Tseng, who just tilted his head a fraction to the side. The pressure in Reno's chest grew, squeezing at his heart. Why the hell had he opened his big mouth? They wouldn't take him seriously. Why would they? He was failing everything so far. Laugh at him; that's what they would do.

"I'll have a talk with the principal," Veld said.

Reno stared after him as he left. Had he heard that wrong? He could have heard wrong.

"I'm sure it can be arranged," Tseng said. "The chief is very persuasive."

The pressure inside popped and spread through Reno's limbs in a warm rush, which soon turned into a giddy tingle from head to toe.

"Okay, break's over," the Turk continued, bringing out the stopwatch. "Three laps to go."

Reno realized he was wearing a huge smile as he stared after Veld. He wiped it off his face and took off down the track without a word, but he couldn't keep his goofy grin at bay for long. The last laps felt like he was flying with the wind.

Cissnei felt a nip in the air as she headed for the little yard with the apple tree. Once she'd rounded the corner of the administration building, she saw that the tree had barely any leaves left on its gnarled branches. It would be a while yet before any snow fell, but summer was definitely over.

Reno was sitting in his usual spot with a cigarette wedged between his fingers. He greeted her with a grin.

"I thought you had smoked all of those by now," she commented as she sat down next to him on the doorstep.

"My last one." He took one more deep drag before he stubbed it out on the stone beneath them and flicked it into the pebbles surrounding the apple tree. "Was savin' it for a nice day."

Cissnei glanced up at the smog-covered sky. Now that the feeble sunlight was fading for the day, the clouds were picking up a sickly green tint from the glow of the closest Mako reactor.

"'Nice', huh?"

He chuckled.

"Ain't much to look at, I guess, but it wasn't a complete load of shit for once."

"Wow," she deadpanned. "That doesn't happen every day."

"Tell me about it," he said, grinning. "Figured it was worth celebratin', yo."

Cissnei pulled out an atlas from her bag. The book fell open to the map of Wutai in her lap. It always did. Quickly, she flipped through a few pages to a spread of the whole world.

"Where'd ya get that?" Reno asked, peering at the map. "I didn't get any of the new books yet."

"It's not a school book. My dad gave it to me when he was deployed to Wutai, so I could look up the places he'd go to. He passed through Gongaga," she pointed at a dot on the southern coast of the Western Continent, then to another to the west, "and Cosmo Canyon. He went to Nibelheim once, too." She moved her finger north to a third dot in the top half of the continent.

"What about in Wutai?"

"He never told me the exact places. He wasn't allowed to. He did say they landed here, once." Cissnei pointed at the southern tip of the claw-shaped landmass of Wutai that curved along the far left of the map.

"Huh," he said, his gaze flicking from dot to dot on the map. "Well, that's a lotta places I've never seen, yo."

"Which places have you seen, then?"

"Just this," he said, tapping on Midgar. "Never been nowhere else."

"Really? Not even a day trip to the beach during summer break?"

Reno let out a dry chuckle.

"Slum kids don't get vacation trips. We don't even get the vacations."

"Oh," she said, feeling sheepish. She should have guessed.

"What about you?" he wondered.

Cissnei flipped to a map of the eastern continent.

"This is where I was born," she said, pointing at a dot on the west coast below Midgar. "Junon."

"Oh, okay. Ain't so far from here, huh?"

"It is if you go by car. You have to take the long way around to get through the mountains." She traced the route with a finger. "Flying isn't so bad, though."

Reno's eyebrows shot all the way up behind his bangs.

"You've flown? In a plane?"

"Yeah, once."

"What's it like?"

Cissnei got the feeling he was trying to keep it casual, but the excitement in his eyes betrayed him. Reno, who kept his eyes firmly on the ground when he crossed the school yard, was excited about flying.

"Well," she began, thinking back. The memory was hazy; she must have been eight or nine at the time. "You queue for ages, and then you have to strap yourself in with loads of other people. Your ears pop when the plane takes off, and you have to stay put for the whole flight unless you need to go to the bathroom. And your feet get cold." She laughed. "Actually, now that I think about it the car might be better after all."

"Damn. And here I thought it'd be fun."

He grinned, but she could hear the disappointment in his voice.

"You want to fly?"

"I guess, yeah." He shrugged as he gazed down at the map of the world. "Always wondered what it's like."

"I thought you didn't like the sky?"

The word alone was enough to make his face scrunch up.

"I don't, but... Maybe it'd be different up there? I mean, the sky ain't empty if you're in it, right?"

His reasoning brought a smile to Cissnei's face.

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it."

"I'd just like to go places," he mumbled, looking at the map again. "See places. You'd see a lot from up there."

"Only if you get a window seat."

He chuckled, but it was quieter than usual.

"You know..." Cissnei drew out the words until he looked up. "...Shinra's got private planes. I bet they've only got window seats in those."

"You think?"

She was pleased to see the glint of hope in his eyes.

"What's the point of a private plane if it doesn't come with windows for everyone?"

"Fat chance of us gettin' on one of 'em, tho'," Reno mumbled, frowning. "I'm guessin' private planes are, y'know, private."

"Of course we will," she said. "Tseng said we're going to be bodyguards, remember? President Shinra will need bodyguards on business trips, too."

Reno's forehead furrowed again, but his frown seemed to be a more thoughtful one this time.

"Huh."

A bell rang in the distance – the first evening bell.

"Shit," Cissnei hissed and snapped the book shut. "I have to get back to the dorm."

"Kiddie curfew, huh?"

She shot him a dirty look as she packed her things. He may have been taking the same classes as her, but he still received the privileges of his age group. A very irritating fact at times like these.

"As if your two extra hours make you some kind of a grown-up."

"Nah. My few extra years do that, yo."

Cissnei rolled her eyes as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

"See you in Algebra tomorrow, old man."

She made it back to the girls' dorm in the nick of time. In their room, Shalua was lying on her bed with a book in her hands. She lowered it enough to shoot Cissnei a curious glance as she picked her way over to her side of the room and set down her bag.

"So, what did you get up to?"

"I went to the library, like I said."

With a snorted laugh, Shalua rolled over on her side and propped up her head in her hand. She gave Cissnei a knowing look.

"I can smell the smoke from here, you know."

Shit. Cissnei hoped the dorm supervisor hadn't picked up on it, too. Probably not. The woman would have chewed her out on the spot.

"I didn't smoke, if that's what you're thinking. I ran into Reno on my way back. You know, the red-haired boy from class? We talked for a bit."

It wasn't exactly a breach of trust. Everyone "knew" Reno smoked, even if half of them just assumed it based on his looks and origin.

"The jerk who wasn't a jerk after all, right?"

"That's the one."

Shalua was still watching her, twining the end of her blonde ponytail around her fingers.

"So...?"

The girl's teasing tone made the rest of the question obvious, but Cissnei wasn't in the mood.

"What?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Have you kissed yet?"

Cissnei blinked. She had expected more winking and nudging first.

"It's not like that," she said absently, removing the atlas from her bag with care. "More like a study group."

"Uh huh. So you two are sneaking out at night just to do homework?"

She shot her roommate an incredulous look. Shalua laughed.

"Yeah, I noticed. I'm not that heavy a sleeper, you know."

For several painful seconds, Cissnei couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"You haven't told anyone, have you?" she finally blurted out.

"No, don't worry. I can keep a secret."

This was all wrong. This wasn't at all how it was supposed to be. Cissnei was meant to be the one presiding over other people's secrets.

Shalua pushed herself up to sit cross-legged on the bed.

"I could tell there was something going on between you when you suddenly changed your mind about him," she said with a self-satisfied grin. "So, come on, tell me! Is he a good kisser? Does he taste like smoke?"

"There's nothing going on! We're... friends."

Shalua had caught her off guard. Without a role to play, the word felt strange on her tongue, like a foreign phrase.

Her roommate's grin only grew.

"Uh huh. Sure you are."

"I'm telling the truth."

"Hey, I get it. It's the age thing, right? He's got to be... what, seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Seventeen," Cissnei muttered, slumping down on her bed in defeat. Nothing she said would change the girl's mind, would it?

Shalua nodded sagely.

"Yeah, the teachers are all uptight about that sort of thing. You'd better be careful." She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial hush. "Last year, there was this senior who dated a first-year girl. The dorm supervisor caught her sneaking out one night and told the principal, who told the girl's mom, who went ballistic. She got a restraining order on the boy and a week later, the girl was transferred to another school!"

Cissnei gave her a dubious look.

"How do you know that? You weren't here last year."

"Of course I know about it," Shalua said, rolling her eyes. "Everyone knows about it."

Cissnei didn't. She hadn't heard about it at all.

How could Shalua have heard the story, if she hadn't? The girl spent half her days with her nose in a book, and the other half at her sister's school. Cissnei was the one keeping her eyes and ears open at all times. If everyone knew it, she would have heard about it.

Unless... Unless everyone kept quiet around her, because it was her they were gossiping about now.

Chapter Text

The new quarter kicked off with Geography. The teacher was a Mr. Gaskin who dwarfed his desk and wore a perpetual frown. His hair was longer than Reno's and billowed around his head like the mane of a bandersnatch. It was brown and wavy, as was his full beard. He hung up a huge map of the world in front of the class, then invited everyone to come up and tell stories about the places they had visited.

Mr. Gaskin also pointed out and described several towns with funny names. Bone Village on the Northern Continent was no longer a village in size; the old name came from the gigantic bones of ancient creatures that littered the area. Rocket Town was a new settlement on the Western Continent that had sprung up around the construction site for the world's first space rocket, currently being built by the almighty Shinra.

Reno had nothing to add to the discussion, but he watched, and listened, and memorized names and locations. He hoped that Cissnei's guess about bodyguards on private planes was right, and that President Shinra had business in places like Bone Village and Rocket Town.

At the end of the lesson, they hadn't opened their textbooks a single time. Geography was all right, Reno decided. So was Mr. Gaskin.

Next up was Psychology. Reno loitered in the hallway, checking out the students who entered the classroom. As he'd expected, these were all older than the kiddies he'd shared classes with so far. He recognized some of the faces from the dorm, but he didn't really know any of them.

Did they recognize him? Did they all know Reno the Rat, who was as old as the seniors but so dumb he was taking first year classes?

It was almost time for the next class. His stomach was twisting, but he'd have to go in or he'd be stuck with whatever crappy seat was left. Reno took a deep breath, then crossed the hallway and entered the room.

He'd left it to the last moment. Only a few seats remained in the third row. As he made his way to the one closest to the window, he could feel the others' eyes on him. His neighbor didn't look up as he took a seat next to her, just kept staring out of the window. Behind him, he heard whispers and titters that were all too familiar by now. They recognized him, all right. Fuck.

Reno looked up when the door opened, but it wasn't the teacher. His guts pulled into the tightest knot as King Bro, Eelface and Mama's Boy strolled in.

He could tell the instant King Bro spotted him. After an initial flash of surprise, the jackass adopted a smarmy smile and tapped Eelface on the shoulder. He pointed at Reno as he said something under his breath.

As they headed his way, Reno realized something. The only seats left were next to him.

Fuck everything.

"Can we help you, Rat?"

King Bro's supercilious tone made Reno's hand inch toward the knife that was no longer in his boot. He didn't even have the boots themselves. Stupid goddamn topside school with its stupid-ass dress code.

"Nah," he said, recalling the satisfying crack of King Bro's skull hitting concrete. The guy had been taken down by a girl half his size. That fact kept the cocky smirk on Reno's face. "I'm good, yo."

"Are you sure about that? You seem a bit lost."

"Yeah," Eelface cut in. "Sorry, but this course isn't meant for losers stuck in first year forever."

He laughed. Mama's Boy joined in. King Bro just stood there with that shit-eating smile on his face, pretending to be doing Reno some great big favor. If these bozos had picked a fight with Reno in the streets down below, he'd have made sure they wouldn't try a second time. In this shithole, though, unarmed against three bigger and stronger guys, he was reduced to pulling pranks and mouthing off. Fuck this place.

The uneasy feeling in Reno's gut was rising, clawing its way upward to throttle his lungs. Deep breaths, the shrink said. Take deep breaths and leave the situation, but he couldn't, now could he? He was stuck here with these morons, stuck listening to the shit that poured out of their faces, until they'd push one button too many, and then he'd–

The bell rang, making the trio straighten up and look over at the door. Moments later it opened. This time it was the teacher, and that got King Bro and pals off his back and into the empty seats on his row, but...

It was Mr. Gaskin.

Reno sank down in his chair, wishing he could sink all the way through the floor. Why did it have to be Mr. Gaskin? He knew Reno was taking kiddie classes, too. He must think Reno was slow. Lazy. Stupid. That's what they all thought. His shot at this course had fizzled out before it even began.

Fuck every single thing in this fucking universe.

Hell, maybe he was stupid. Why had he opened his big mouth and asked to take this course? He couldn't just skip it now. He made such a damned big deal out of it with Veld and Tse–

The thump of a small stack of textbooks hitting his desk snapped Reno back to the present. He grabbed all but one and passed them onward.

"Let's start with a definition," Mr. Gaskin said in his slow, thoughtful manner. "How would you define 'psychology'?"

The word was written on the whiteboard, along with his name. He must have finished his introductory talk. Reno had missed all of it. In a class he'd specifically asked for. He really was some kind of stupid, wasn't he?

A girl in the second row raised her hand.

"The study of the human psyche?"

"That it is, yes, but let's try for something more precise. Ideas?"

Well, one thing was clear: Reno was stuck here for now. He would just have keep that big mouth of his shut for a change and keep a low profile.

"The study of conscious and unconscious processes in the brain," someone behind him suggested.

"Good, we're getting somewhere. An important part is still missing, though. Anyone?"

Reno stared at the stylized picture of a brain on the cover of his textbook, but the damned thing refused to tell him what a 'conscious process' might mean. At least the others had stopped spouting vague definitions now. Maybe they all knew more than him, but it seemed they didn't know everything.

"Behavior," Mr. Gaskin said. "Psychology studies both behavior and mental processes. Behavior can be observed. Mental processes take place solely in the mind."

He turned around and wrote "behavior" and "mental processes" underneath "psychology" on the whiteboard.

"Now that we have our definition," he continued, rounding his desk, "let's take a closer look at these two parts of it. How about we try out a game, hm? I will make a claim. You will decide if it's true or false, and explain why."

Reno shifted in his seat, studying his fellow students with surreptitious glances. He hoped they were the talkative kind. He desperately hoped Mr. Gaskin wouldn't pick someone "randomly" like that Nesbitt asshole.

"Let's go through a few claims about mental processes first. 'Reading is the process of thinking reflectively and productively, and evaluating the evidence.' True or false?"

Reno looked up in surprise. That one wasn't so hard. Was it a trick question?

"Come now, don't be shy," Mr. Gaskin said, when only scattered whispers filled the silence. "Mr. Arkham, what do you think?"

Eelface cut himself off in the middle of a hushed comment to King Bro and gaped at the teacher.

"Sorry?"

"Reading is the process of productive thinking and evaluation. True or false, Mr. Arkham?"

Eelface opened his mouth, but closed it again and frowned at the cover of his copy of the textbook. He looked at King Bro, who made a face and shrugged.

"Um... True?"

"Oh, c'mon! It's obviously bullshit."

The words were out before Reno realized he had opened his mouth. His stomach dropped to the floor as the whole class turned to look at him. He had fucked it up. Five minutes into the first class and he had already fucked it up.

Mr. Gaskin peered at him with his beady eyes.

"Mr. Reno, is it?"

He nodded, swallowing.

"While I need you to watch the language in the future, Mr. Reno, differing opinions are welcome. So, please explain to us why you disagree?"

He was caught completely off guard. He had expected a reprimand or a visit to the principal's office, not a question.

"Well, uh..."

He licked his lips, struggling to put his thoughts into words. What was it the teacher had said? Thinking... reflexes? Shit, he couldn't remember any of those fancy words.

From the corner of his eye he saw King Bro and pals sniggering together. They were just itching to see him screw this up.

Fuck it. Fuck them, and fuck all those fancy words. If he was going down, he'd do so on his own terms.

"Just readin' somethin' ain't gonna do ya much good, will it?" he said. "It's just makin' sense of a bunch of written words. Evaluatin' stuff, that's figurin' out if those words are any good or not. I mean, what if someone's written a bunch of bull–" He cut himself off at the last second and offered the teacher a sheepish grin. "Uh, crap?"

"Perhaps a word like 'falsehoods' would be better," Mr. Gaskin said with a small smile. "Mistaken information, or even propaganda and lies."

"Uh, sure. One of those."

"Very good, Mr. Reno. Does anyone have anything to add?"

The classroom was silent. Even the Bro Squad had gone quiet.

"The claim is indeed false," Mr. Gaskin said. "The term we're looking for here is 'critical thinking'. Reading is merely the gathering of information, as Mr. Reno pointed out. The mental process of analyzing and evaluating that information – that is critical thinking. Something I hope to see from all of you as we go on."

As the teacher spoke, Reno found himself gripping the edge of his seat. He felt like he might float away any second, or possibly melt onto the floor in a puddle of relief. He hadn't fucked it up. He got it right. Holy shit, he'd been right.

Mr. Gaskin was definitely all right. Maybe Psychology would be all right, too, after all.

Cissnei slumped down on the mat, panting. Reno dropped next to her and flopped down on his back, his breathing as ragged as hers.

"You've improved," Tseng said, handing her a water bottle. "Both of you."

"I should frickin' hope so," Reno grumbled. "Would suck to keep gettin' beat up by you twice a week for nothin'."

"It's called 'sparring', Reno. Not 'beating'."

"Same difference," he huffed, but flashed a grin after.

Cissnei gulped down several mouthfuls before she handed the bottle to Reno. Her heart pounded against her ribs like it was trying to burst out of her chest. It was the second time she had sparred with him, and both times he'd run them both into the ground by bouncing around the mat like a bunny on a sugar rush. He fought dirty, too, and tended to kick a bit too hard for practice. She was beginning to suspect Tseng had paired them up to weed out that last habit and teach him more control. She had watched Reno spar with the Turks, so she knew that nothing knocked him out of a hyperactive frenzy faster than her going down with a pained cry.

She could have sworn he was bouncier than usual today. After lunch he'd shown up for class with a big grin on his face, despite that class being Algebra 2, and he'd kept smiling through the afternoon. It was nice, Cissnei thought. He looked better with a smile than with a smirk.

As Cissnei glanced over at Tseng, she noticed he was holding a pair of fabric bags emblazoned with the school emblem.

"What's in those?" she asked, gesturing to them.

"Things you will need for the next stage of your physical training." He gave one to her and the other to Reno. "A swim test is part of your physical assessment. I suggest you start working on it."

As Tseng spoke, Cissnei checked her bag. It contained a bath towel and a one-piece swimsuit, both in the school's cobalt blue.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me! You expect me to wear this?"

Reno's voice had climbed a whole octave. She looked up to see him staring at a pair of blue briefs in his hands, his mouth hanging open.

"Part of the school dress code," Tseng said. "Every student wears the same kind of swimwear."

"No. No way in hell."

"The test is manda–"

"No!" Reno shot up and threw the swimwear on the floor. "Fuck this shit!"

The next second he was gone, the door swinging wildly in his wake. Tseng frowned.

"Sir?" Cissnei said, picking herself up from the floor. "I'll talk to him."

"No, leave him. Talking won't help when he's in that state."

"He isn't angry. He's just upset. I'll talk to him."

Tseng gave her an appraising look, then sighed.

"Very well. Give him a chance to cool down first, and make sure he understands it's mandatory. And... give him these. It might help."

He handed her a small cardboard box. Cissnei just nodded; to her surprise, she had realized his frown wasn't one of anger either. She picked up Reno's swimwear and his bag on her way out.

After a shower and a change of clothes, she began her search. She found him sitting in their usual spot by the apple tree, still in his gym clothes and hunched down in the darkest corner of the alcove with his arms around his knees. He didn't greet her. He didn't even look up when she sat down on the doorstep. Cissnei said nothing either, just sat beside him with his sports bag in her lap.

Remembering Tseng's advice, she pulled out the cardboard box he'd given her and finally took a look at it. Nicotine gum, cherry-flavored. Well, it was worth a shot.

"Here," she said, handing them over.

Reno huffed when he saw the package, but snatched it from her without a word. He popped a piece into his mouth and chewed for a while. Cissnei sat still, studying the apple tree as she listened to the muffled noise of traffic outside their walls.

"I ain't doin' it."

She glanced at him, but he was still glaring holes in the apple tree.

"Doing what?"

"Paradin' around the pool in nothin' but goddamn underpants, that's what."

His voice was dead, his face slack. Only his eyes betrayed any emotion. The mask was firmly in place. She'd have to loosen it before she could slip underneath and reach him.

"You mean... these?" Cissnei dug out his swimwear and held them up for inspection.

"You know what I fuckin' mean."

"Tseng is right, you know. Everyone here has the same swimwear, so you'll all be parading around in underpants."

Reno's shoulders rose even higher and his grip on his knees tightened.

"Just shut up, will ya?" he hissed. "And get those damn things outta my face already!"

Cissnei let her hands fall into her lap.

"You heard him," she said calmly. "You have to take a swim test to become a Turk."

He turned his face away, but she saw his blank expression waver.

"You're not giving up, are you? Because of these?" She lifted the briefs again.

"Look, it's pointless!" he spat. "I can't swim, okay?"

Cissnei wasn't surprised. It might have raised eyebrows back in Junon, but in Midgar she had met more than a few who had never learned to swim. The city was built on a plain, far from any rivers or lakes, and the sea was several hours away.

"That's fine. You can swap PE classes for swimming lessons."

His laugh was too tight to ring true, and too shrill for anger.

"Yeah, lessons in the mornings. When the swim team is at the pool, like, all the time. I ain't goin' in the fuckin' kiddie pool with the Bro Squad watchin'!"

She could picture it all too clearly. Just thinking about it, she could hear their jeers, bouncing off the tiled white walls. It took her only a second to make up her mind.

"Then let's go at night. I'll teach you."

It wasn't even a decision, just a natural response. He needed help. She would give it.

Reno looked back at her, frowning.

"You?"

He wasn't derisive or disbelieving. If anything, Cissnei detected a glimmer of hope. She smiled.

"Yeah, me. Back in Junon, I practically moved into the sea every summer. You get us into the gym, and I'll teach you."

She watched the emotions that flickered across his face as he considered it. Worry. Fear. Hope. The mask had fallen completely.

When he looked up at her, she could see the decision in his eyes, tinged with caution.

"Okay. I can do that."

"Good. Let's start tonight."

She offered him his swimming briefs. With a scowl of disgust, he snatched them out of her hand.

"These fuckin' things," he muttered, stuffing them into his bag. "I swear, if you're doin' this just so you can laugh at me in these, I'm gonna lock ya in there 'til morning."

"I promise I won't laugh," she said solemnly, then grinned. "Much."

Chapter Text

The pool glimmered in the darkness. The submerged lights painted soft lines of turquoise between wider stretches of teal, making the water seem more like radiant Mako. Not a single ripple disturbed the surface. Cissnei had never seen it so perfectly still, nor heard such absolute silence.

"Damn. Spooky, ain't it?"

She whipped her head up. Reno stood only a few feet away, out of reach of the the pool's light. For a second, his eyes seemed to glow the same eerie blue as the water. Then he took a step closer, into the light, and the illusion vanished.

She let out her breath in a huff.

"Yeah, well you're not helping. Don't creep up on me like that."

"Sorry," he said, grinning. "So, Coach, where do we start?"

"Right here. Time to get your feet wet. Along with everything else."

As Reno peeked over the edge, Cissnei let her gaze drift down. He had his towel wrapped tight around his upper body, but it only came down to his waist. The swim briefs were pretty tiny, all right, but she didn't feel any urge to laugh. She just felt her face go warm.

"What, I'm s'posed to just jump in? Straight into the big pool?"

Cissnei snapped her eyes back up as he straightened again, and a smile snuck onto her face, as if to make up for her furtive peeking. She pointed at a ladder by the end of the pool.

"Climb in. As long as that thing on your leg holds water?"

"Oh, this?" He lifted his foot, the one with the black band strapped around the ankle. "Uh, I guess it does. It's s'posed to be all un-destructible and shit."

"Indestructible. Or undestroyable."

"Pfft, whatever. 'Sides, Tseng's the one who's forcin' the swimmin' on me, ain't he? You'd think he would've said somethin'."

As far as she recalled, Reno hadn't given the man a chance to say much of anything, but it wasn't as if they could call and check right now.

"Well, it's your foot, not mine." She gestured to the pool. "This is the shallow end, so the water only comes up to your chest. Don't worry, we'll just play around a bit first. Get you familiar with being in the water. Nothing scary."

He looked over at the water again and swallowed.

"Uh... Okay."

She went in first, so she got a good view of Reno as he hesitantly fumbled his way down the ladder. His spine stood out like a band of pearls beneath his skin, flanked on both sides by the sharp lines of his shoulder blades. There were two other lines, too. One pink and straight; the other thick and uneven, and nearly white.

"How'd you get your scars?"

"The usual way people get 'em, I guess." His voice was tight, pitched just a tad too high.

"What does that mean?"

"Got cut. Stabbed. Thrown through a second story window. The usual."

She shot him a look of disbelief. He responded with a grin, but it was weak and short-lived. It could have been because of the water; he kept staring at it with wide eyes, as if it might rise up without warning and swallow him whole.

Or it could have been because of whatever gave him those scars.

"Most of us don't go around getting thrown through windows, you know," she teased instead of asking the questions that milled on the tip her tongue. She hoped it might put him at ease.

"Yeah, well, it ain't exactly somethin' I do for shits and giggles," he muttered.

He stood on the bottom of the pool, but still clung to the ladder. A few jokes wouldn't be enough to make him let go. Cissnei took a couple of buoyant steps closer and held out her hands.

"Come on, let's get started. Give me your hands."

Reno didn't move his arms, but the bump on his throat bobbed up and down.

"You'll be fine," she said. "I'm right here. I've got you."

He reached out with one hand. His fingers wrapped around hers so tight it almost hurt.

"That's it," she said, slowly moving backwards. "Just follow me."

He held on to the ladder as long as he could. When he finally had to let go, he splashed his other hand through the water and caught her wrist in a vice.

"It's fine," she said, trying her best to keep the bubbling laughter down. "You don't have to squeeze the blood out of my hands."

"Sorry," he mumbled, but only loosened his grip by a fraction.

"Just stand still for now. Relax and get a feel for the water. You're not going to fall in when you have both feet on the bottom."

Reno nodded, but said nothing.

"Are you afraid of water?"

"Nah," he replied quickly, "it ain't that. I've just never been... y'know. In it."

"Really? Not even a bath?"

"Nope. Just showers. Or water in a bucket."

"Maybe you can think of it as a really intense shower, then."

He shot her a withering look, and Cissnei laughed.

"I'm serious," she insisted. "It's not that different. You hold your breath if you put your head under the shower, right?"

"Yeah, but if I wanna breathe again, I just step back. I can't even walk in this." He lifted his hands, moving their arms against the drag of the water.

"You get used to it, and if you want to breathe in a pool, you just come back to the surface. We'll start like this, standing on the tiles. You bend your knees, dip your head under, then stand up straight again. Won't take more than a few seconds."

"What if it goes wrong?"

She'd never heard him speak with such a small voice.

"I'll be right here beside you, making sure it won't. I won't let go."

He nodded again, swallowing.

"I'll go first."

She took a deep breath and sank down enough to submerge her head, then popped back up again. Reno refused to let go of her, so she raised their interlocked hands to wipe the water out of her face, then gave him a grin.

"Okay, your turn."

He took several deep breaths, then dropped down like a stone. The next second he shot back up again, gasping and sputtering, and nearly pulled her under in the process. She had to get close to keep them both upright, and when he left go with one hand to rub his eyes, she grabbed hold of his shoulder for better balance.

"You did it! That wasn't so bad, huh?"

"Yes, it fuckin' was! The goddamn water went in my ears! My nose! Fuckin' everywhere!"

"It's what water does," she said, laughing. "You'll get used to that too. Come on. Let's try again."

"Fuck no! You think I'm gonna do that shit again?"

He scowled at her, but all it did was make her grin. His hair was plastered against his head, except for a few clumps that stuck straight out after he'd swiped them out of his eyes. He looked adorably grumpy, like a soaked kitten.

"I could hold my breath underwater for ten seconds the first time I went in the water," she said. "Think you can beat that?"

It was likely a lie. It wasn't as if she could remember the first time her parents had taken her to the beach in Junon. Cissnei couldn't just play roles, though. She could play people.

Reno went still, and got a gleam in his narrowed eyes.

"That a challenge, lil' girl?"

She grinned wider. "Ten gil says you can't do it."

"You're on, Ciss. You're fuckin' on. Watch this."

He began huffing in air again, but this time the glare he aimed at the water was more like the one he'd given Troy Domino. He plunged down, but Cissnei only counted to four before he jumped up again.

"That don't count!" he coughed out. "Hang on, I've got this."

Reno tried again, and again, and again. Much to her delight, Cissnei lost her ten gil in the end. She got her hands back, too. They blew bubbles in the water, tried floating in different ways, and practiced flutter kicks. By the end of it they were exhausted, but both of them were grinning like mad.

Cissnei towed him to the ladder, then climbed out of the pool, feeling her limbs turn into lead the moment they left the water. She pulled off her ponytail holder and bent forward to wring out her hair.

"Oh fuck."

Reno muttered it under his breath, but Cissnei picked up on a trace of alarm.

"What is it?" she wondered, turning around.

"Nothin'!"

She frowned and tried to catch his eye, but he was staring straight ahead at the tiled edge he clung to.

"Okay... Well, come on then. I'll help you up."

She bent down and held out her hand. With a gasp, he pushed himself back and landed in the middle of the lane in a huge splash.

"Reno!"

She jumped in before her shout had stopped echoing from the tiles, but he shot back up before she could reach him, coughing and splashing as he tried to run away from her in chest-high water.

"I'm fine," he sputtered. "Just stay there. I'm fine!"

"The hell you are," she said, raising her voice to be heard over his thrashing. "What's up with you?"

"I told ya, it's nothin'! I just gotta... work on bein' in the water some more. Get a feel for it, y'know. You don't have to wait for me or anythin'. Just hit the shower and I'll meet you by the back door."

"Come on! I'm not leaving you in the pool on your own."

"It's fine, just go. I'll come up in a bit."

"No! You can't swim, remember?"

Reno threw his head back, muttering a few curses.

"Fine. Just gimme a few more minutes."

"Fine," she huffed, rolling her eyes.

Cissnei dove for the side of the pool and pulled herself up to sit on the edge. She slowly kicked her legs back and forth in the water as she kept an eye on him, trying to figure him out. Reno wasn't doing any of the exercises. He stayed where he was, just standing still in the water.

"Uh, maybe you could put on a robe or somethin'?" he called. "A towel?"

"What?"

"I just, y'know... Don't wantcha to get cold."

He still wouldn't look at her. Was there something wrong with her? She looked down at herself, frowning. Her swimsuit had turned a darker blue now that it was wet, and her nipples were... Oh.

She threw her arms across her chest, feeling a wave of heat rush to her face. When she glanced at him she realized he was holding his hands in front of his crotch.

"Sure," she said, doing her best to keep voice normal, and scrambled to her feet. She snatched his towel off the bench and placed it next to the pool ladder. "Here. Don't want you to get cold either."

Cissnei heard him splash through the water as she stepped back to the bench, then the squeak of wet skin on the metal ladder. She made sure to keep her back to him while she wrapped her own towel around herself.

"'Kay, I'm done," he said, faking a breezy tone. "See ya by the back door in ten!"

He was halfway to the changing room by the time she turned around.

Cissnei walked to the girls' side in a daze. She stripped out of her swimsuit and headed to the showers on autopilot, moving with a robotic calm that was completely at odds with the whirl of thoughts and images in her head.

She looked down at her breasts, watching as she ran her soapy hands over them. Boys liked boobs, she knew that much. The bigger the better. Hers were pretty small, but it seemed Reno liked them anyway. Maybe he wanted to touch them. Maybe he wanted to do more than that.

What she knew of sex came out of a few coyly-worded scenes from novels, jumbled in with the dry technicalities they taught in biology class. Some of the older girls at the girls' home had talked about it once. Most of them said it hurt or felt weird the first time.

What if that was what Reno wanted? Cissnei hadn't thought of him in that way. She hadn't thought of anyone in that way. She knew how to make herself feel good, but to do that with someone else... Weren't you supposed to feel something for the other person? The older girls, the girls in the books; they had talked about being in love. What did love feel like?

She tried to imagine Reno doing the things she had heard about, but the more she thought about it, the more her stomach ached. It wasn't the restless flitter like the first time she had snuck to the kitchens with him, or when Principal Hart had told her of the admittance to the Turk program. This felt like her stomach had tied itself into a knot so tight it hurt. If it was another emotion, it couldn't be a good one. It couldn't be love... could it?

How would she know? How would she ever know?

Reno was waiting for her by the back door, his hair fluffier than usual from the blow-dryer. He must have been procrastinating, too. Cissnei gave him a faint smile, but couldn't keep her eyes from wandering down to his trousers. Then she snapped her eyes to the bag in her hands, feeling her cheeks grow hot. Not that she had seen anything this time, but he must have noticed her straying gaze.

"What do you want to do now?" she asked quickly.

He didn't answer straight away. Cissnei stared at her hands and fidgeted with the strap of her bag, but she could feel his eyes on her. Soon, she heard his dry chuckle.

"So ya noticed, huh?"

Cissnei saw no point in denying it. She nodded, and he sighed.

"Look... It's kinda got a mind of its own. I wasn't thinkin' about ya that way. I just watched when you got out of the pool and... Well. Y'know."

She glanced up at him, but she wasn't sure what to make of the look on his face. Not quite embarrassment, not quite regret, not quite dejection or disgust – more like a combination of all four, and something else.

"Does that mean you don't want to...?"

"It ain't you, okay? You're great, really. I've just, uh..." He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, still staring at his feet. "I don't wanna get it on with anyone right now," he finally said, "and I sure don't want things to get weird between us. Just take it as a compliment, yeah? It's a guy's body's way of sayin' you're pretty."

As he spoke, the painful knot in Cissnei's belly loosened until it was completely undone.

"Okay."

"Yeah? We're good?"

He gave her a wary look. He seemed so much like a shy but hopeful puppy that Cissnei felt an urge to stroke his hair. She knew that wouldn't be well-received, though. Reno needed a different kind of reassurance.

"We're good," she said instead. "So... You think I'm pretty?"

"Ain't that obvious now?" he asked with an awkward chuckle, staring at his toes again. "Bit hard to fake a reaction like that, yo."

"'A bit hard', huh?"

Reno glanced at her. When he first caught her gaze he averted his eyes right away, but the second time he held it. Her lips twitched. He let out a half-stifled snort. As if on cue, they both erupted in giggles.

"Oh man," he snorted, pushing his hands through his hair. "I was sure you'd notice when you jumped back in. I thought my face was gonna catch fire."

Cissnei touched her cheek, recalling the heat she had felt. If he had reacted the same way, it had to be normal. Her smile grew wider.

"I didn't realize until later. But when I did... Yeah. Face on fire. That was..."

"So damn embarrassin'," Reno finished for her, snickering. "Whoever decided those fuckin' briefs were a good idea needs their face punched. Jeez, what a night."

He sobered himself enough to stifle the giggles, though his crooked grin remained. After pressing his finger to his lips, he unlocked the door and peeked out, then stepped aside to hold it open for her.

"C'mon. Let's get outta here, yeah?"

The yard was as dark and quiet as they'd left it. It would be hours before the school grounds stirred, but Reno took her straight to her window. Cissnei was surprised. Swimming always made her hungry, so she expected a couple of hours in the pool would leave him ravenous.

"Will you be raiding the kitchen tonight?" Cissnei wondered.

"Fat chance," he said through a poorly stifled yawn. "I think I'm just gonna sleep for a couple days."

"Swimming really wears you out, doesn't it?"

"No kiddin'." He bent down and clasped his hands together. "'Kay, up ya go."

Cissnei's body was so weary that had she been on her own, she would have ended up spending the night outside. With the support of Reno's hands and shoulders, though, she clambered in through the window and over her desk.

"Good night," she whispered as she began to push the window shut.

"Nighty night."

She'd almost closed the window when Reno spoke again.

"Hey, Ciss?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

With a smile, he melted into the darkness.

Chapter Text

The hallway was deserted when Cissnei came out from the first floor bathroom. There was nothing odd about it – the last class of the day had ended ten minutes ago – but the silence was eerie. She hurried her steps, hiding her hands under her arms. The cold had gotten tenacious enough to seep indoors. This past week she'd been half-frozen by the time she made it back to her room, after her secretive nightly swimming lessons with Reno.

As Cissnei approached the next corridor, she picked up on the murmur of quiet conversation. A boy and a girl. Never one to miss an opportunity, she slowed and tiptoed to the corner for a peek.

It was Reno, talking to a brown-haired girl. Trinny from class, Cissnei recognized. As she watched, he stepped closer and touched Trinny's hair. The girl giggled and dropped her gaze as he leaned closer and murmured something, running his hand through her brown locks. A sinking sensation came over Cissnei.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the school's afternoon activities. The girl jumped, and with a quick "I've got to go!" she scurried away and disappeared through the door at the end of the corridor. Reno slipped his hands into his pockets and watched her leave, but he turned his head when Cissnei stepped into the corridor.

"There you are," he said, flashing a grin. "Got any plans for the next half an hour?"

"Still working on it," she said with a pinned-on smile.

Their footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. Those who stayed in the building for their afternoon club meetings had already gathered in their designated classrooms. She and Reno had no such hurry, though. Their sparring session with Tseng was still forty-five minutes away.

"So, what was that about?"

Cissnei cringed as her voice rang sharper than she had intended in the empty hall.

"Huh?"

"You and Trinny, talking."

"Oh, that?" There was something decidedly smug about the grin that crept onto his face. "Just needed some hairpins."

"What?"

"Yeah, my old ones got confiscated. I remembered you said she liked me, so thought I'd turn on the ol' charm and just ask her for some."

"You... charmed her?"

"Hey, I can be charmin'! Bit rusty now, maybe, but I used to be pretty good at it."

His walk held a bit more swagger than usual, and she had rarely seen that spark in his eye. She'd seen it the first time he'd talked her into sneaking into the school kitchen. It had been there as he sauntered out of class, sent to the principal by Mr. Nesbitt for the second time. It wasn't the giddy sparkle of infatuation, Cissnei could see that much.

"So that's what it was about? Hairpins?"

Reno's chuckle was more like a purr than laughter.

"What's with the interrogation, Ciss? You gettin' jealous?"

"No, I just... Weren't you leading her on?"

"Ain't like I made any promises. Told her she's pretty and her hair looked nice, s'all. A fair trade, y'know? A few compliments for a few hairpins, yo."

A purring cat – that's what he reminded her of. A purring, self-satisfied cat who had just stolen the cream and gotten away with it.

"You told her she's pretty, so she gave you hairpins? Am I missing part of the equation here?"

"Eh, said I needed some to keep my hair outta my eyes." He blew some of the red strands out of his face and grinned. "Ain't like I was lyin', yo."

His explanation made it sound like he'd been playing a role. Not so different from what she did... only it was. What she had seen had looked like... seduction. Cissnei couldn't put her finger on why that changed anything, but she had learned to interpret the tight knot in her belly as discomfort.

"You make it sound easy," she mumbled.

"Make 'em laugh, make 'em feel good," he said with a shrug. "Ain't rocket science." He gave her a sly look from the corner of his eye. "Works on dudes, too, in case you're wonderin'."

For a second Cissnei could see it. She could see herself smiling and playing with her hair like the older girls would around their boys. It made the twisting in her gut worse. It also made her pulse quicken.

"And would you know because...?"

Cissnei had hoped to fluster him like he had flustered her, but he just smirked.

"Sometimes I need cookies, too."

"...Cookies?"

His smile grew wider.

"Might surprise ya how many of the guys at the dorm get cookies in the mail from their moms. Might surprise ya more to know that not all of 'em hate my guts."

His eyes glittered with laughter, but he said it so casually that she couldn't tell how much of it was a joke.

Then, like that, the mirth was gone. Reno stopped in his tracks and stared out through the glass of the front doors. Cissnei frowned and scanned the school yard, trying to figure out what had spooked him, but no one was out there.

"What?"

"Sweet Shiva's frozen ass," he whispered. "Is that... real?"

She peered out again. A smile spread across her face as it finally clicked into place.

"Haven't you seen snow before?"

She'd noticed at first glance, of course, but she'd been too preoccupied with Reno's spooked reaction. A layer of white blanketed the yard and everything in it. A good two inches had fallen from the sky during the afternoon classes, and more was floating down in large, fluffy flakes.

"Yeah, but... Look!" He pushed through the door in a sudden fit of excitement, but stopped right at the edge of the wide doorstep to look around. "There's so much of it! It's everywhere, just lyin' there on the ground!"

Cissnei had to stifle a laugh at the expression on his face. The poor guy seemed to be in shock.

"Isn't that what snow usually does?"

"Not below plate. Some would blow in under the plate sometimes, but not like this. I mean, look at it!" Reno threw out his arm in an arc, gesturing at the world in general with a shrill laugh of disbelief. "It's just floatin' down! From nothin'!" He cast a wary glance upwards, though only for a second.

"From clouds, Reno."

"Yeah, I know that, it's just... We didn't have this. Not like this. Ever."

He was grinning now.

"Didn't it get cold under there?"

"Sure, it got cold. Cold enough to freeze your goddamn balls off, but mostly that just meant a bunch of ice. Icicles danglin' from the plate above, slippery streets, frozen showers..."

"Showers?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "The heat broke a few times. One of those freeze-your-balls-off type deals, yo."

"That must have sucked."

"Sure did," Reno mumbled, but his attention was clearly elsewhere. He had stepped into the yard and was wandering down the path, twirling as he went and staring all around. Cissnei trailed after him, content to just enjoy the look of wonder on his face as he watched the flakes waft down in their lazy dance. They were so rare, these moments when he let his guard down.

The yard was so still she could feel the snow creaking under her shoes. As she glanced down, she realized other students must already have had their share of the excitement. The snow on the path was littered with footprints, and much of it was scooped up along the sides. The snow was too dry, too powdery for proper fun, but that never stopped people from giving it a go when it first fell.

Cissnei stopped and glanced at Reno, a smile playing on her lips.

"Hey, Reno!"

Her aim was true. Just as he looked her way, her snowball smacked his forehead in a shower of powdery snow. He just stood there at first, blinking, but the ring of her laughter brought him out of his daze. His eyes narrowed to slits, but there was a wily grin on his face.

"Oh, you're so gettin' it now, ya lil' hellcat!"

Reno pounced, but she ducked to the side in the nick of time, scooping up another fistful of snow as she did. The second ball socked him in the chest as he straightened back up. He yelped, she giggled, he lunged for her again, and with a squeal she took off along the path.

He caught her in the yard behind the administration building, right under the apple tree, and the impact toppled them both. They rolled around, each trying to get the upper hand, yowling whenever snow touched bare skin. Reno managed to get on top of her and shoved snow down the back of her sweater.

"You jerk!" she hollered between fits of giggles. "That's not allowed!"

"Yeah? Well, I always fight dirty," he quipped with a toothy grin, reaching for more snow.

She kicked the trunk of the tree, dumping a white flurry on them both. As he shrieked and threw his arms up over his head, she knocked him over and squirmed free, and the chase was on again.

When they finally called it a truce, both of them were huffing and caked with snow.

"How about next time we get our gloves first," Cissnei grumbled, blowing on her reddened fingertips. "My fingers have turned into icicles."

Reno snatched up one of her hands and covered it with both of his own, rubbing gently. His fingers must have been chilled, too, but they felt warmer than her own nonetheless.

"Aw, poor baby," he cooed. "Didn't anyone tell ya it ain't smart to wear snow as a hat?"

He was one to talk. His hair was more white than red at this point. Cissnei reached up to brush the snow out of it.

Reno dropped her hand and flinched back with a startled breath. He went stiff as a rod.

She went still too, her hand hovering mid-air until she let it fall. He gave her a sheepish look as his shoulders loosened up again.

"Sorry," he muttered. "It ain't you, it's just... y'know. Like a reflex."

Her dad had reacted like that once during his last visit. He'd been doing dishes, and she'd tapped him on his back to get his attention. Her dad had dropped a plate and spun around, sending suds flying everywhere, and had stared at her with a strange look in his eyes, as if he didn't know who she was. It had only lasted a second, though, and then he'd made her promise never to do it again. To never touch him without warning, and never shake him to wake him up.

Shrugging off the memory, Cissnei mustered a smile.

"It's okay. I wasn't going to do anything bad, though. Just wanted to get some of the snow off you."

"Oh. Thanks."

Reno reached up to do it himself, and Cissnei noticed he brushed the scar by his eye with his fingertips on the way. Once he'd swatted most of the snow out, he cleared his throat.

"Y'know, as cool as this is... Heh. Pun totally intended," he added with a quick grin. "It's got one downside to it."

"When you go back inside, your pants are going to be soaked?" Cissnei suggested with a crooked smile of her own.

Reno's eyes widened before he looked down at himself.

"Aw crap, it does that?"

"It's snow," she said, laughter bubbling up between her words. "It melts."

"Goddammit, I knew it was startin' to feel like too much fun," he griped, slapping packed snow off of his trousers.

"What did you mean, then?"

"Huh? Oh, this." He pointed to the trail they had made across the yard. "Looks like we ain't gonna sneak out for a swim anytime soon."

"Oh." She frowned, but soon brightened again. "We don't need to. You're good enough that we could use the regular pool hours in the evenings."

In the weeks that had passed since their first lesson, Cissnei had also seen a transformation in his poolside manner. He wasn't so quick to hunch down and wrap his arms around his waist anymore. She suspected it had something to do with the fact that his ribs were no longer poking out so much, and the hollow beneath them had begun to fill out – with a hint of abs.

"Ya really think so?" Reno asked, watching her with sudden shyness.

The same change could be seen in his face. His cheeks were fuller, and while his skin was still pale, it was no longer the sickly white it had once been. Right now, after twenty minutes of frolicking in the snow, his cheeks were a ruddy pink that clashed with his hair. He hadn't cut his mop in the months he'd spent at First Sector High, and it was now long enough to reach below his eyes. It may have been deliberate. Partially hidden, the scar was less noticeable.

His transformation hadn't gone unnoticed by the others, either. His rendezvous with Trinny was proof of that. The girls in class still marked his passing with titters and whispers – but these days those whispers were rather different in character. Cissnei wasn't sure why that bothered her. Maybe it was because the substance of the remarks hadn't changed. It was all about the surface. The inside hadn't mattered to them then, and it didn't matter now. Not even to Trinny.

Then again, the surface was all they got to see. They saw his smirks, not his smiles. They didn't get to hear about his dreams of flying and traveling the world. She did.

"Yeah, I really think so," Cissnei said. "So, how about Wednesdays and Fridays?"

Reno smiled, one of those shy smiles that came from within.

"Deal."

A few weeks later, Tseng pulled Reno aside after their sparring match.

"I hear you've had a change of heart regarding your swimming practice," the Turk said.

As far as Reno was concerned, his reaction had been perfectly justified. Prancing around in the swim briefs was still a humiliation bordering on psychological torture. A guy couldn't even enjoy the eye candy without making a public fool of himself. But, it was an embarrassment that all the guys in this shitty school had to face. It also helped to know that these days he could make it from one end of the pool to the other without certain death by drowning.

"You spyin' on me now?" Reno laughed, though he couldn't be bothered to add any spite. "And here I thought Turks had real work to do."

"It was hardly an effort. Just a few questions to teachers and staff on the way in. The pool attendant has seen you several times recently."

Tseng didn't even bat an eye at the little jab. Well, two could act cool.

"Eh, you said it yourself," Reno said with a shrug. "Got a swim test to pass, yo."

"I'm pleased to see a sign of determination in you. So pleased, in fact, that I have decided to test your enthusiasm in the field."

"Seriously?"

Reno's single word fizzed with poorly concealed excitement. So much for keeping it cool.

"Check with the dorm supervisor," Tseng said. "He has something for you. I expect you to be wearing it when I pick you up tomorrow at noon."

"It ain't a mog costume, is it? 'Cause if it is, someone's gonna get hurt."

The corners of Tseng's mouth rose a fraction.

"Noon tomorrow," he repeated. "The main gate."

A shower and change of clothes had never felt so long. Ignoring the cold, Reno barreled through the school yard with damp hair. At the boys' dorm, he poked his head through the open window to the supervisor's office.

"Hey, Baldy! I hear ya got somethin' for me."

The supervisor looked up from his crossword puzzle and scowled, squinting at Reno over the rim of his glasses. Such a miserable twat, that guy.

"C'mon, man, haul some ass. I ain't got all day."

The man set down his crossword and got to his feet. He yawned and stretched, then dragged himself to the back room like a fat, sedated snail. After half an eternity he emerged again, holding a coat hanger with a black garment bag. Reno was practically vibrating with impatience, but struggled to keep his mouth shut. If he gave the guy another piece of his mind, the bastard would probably sit down and take a nap. So Reno stood, and glared, and snatched up his prize the second it was within reach.

Once safe in his room, Reno hooked the hanger over his door, then tugged the zipper open and yanked the bag off. Then he just stood, and beheld.

Even in the shitty light of the ceiling lamp, the luster of the dark fabric was obvious. It almost gleamed.

The black tie was even shinier.

A tie. Ifrit's ass, he had a goddamned tie.

How the hell did ties even work?

Reno ran his fingers over the front of the jacket, savoring the smoothness. He carefully lifted the jacket off the hanger. At first glance, the white shirt underneath looked a lot like the short-sleeved uniform shirt of First Sector High, but when Reno shrugged himself into it he realized how wrong he'd been. After the rough, scratchy cotton of his school shirt, this was like a gentle caress.

He only had the patience to do up a few buttons before he threw on the jacket and dashed to the mirror. The jacket was a tad wide in the shoulders and the sleeves were definitely too roomy for his spindly arms, but a smile spread across Reno's face as he checked out his reflection. He closed his eyes and took a moment to just feel the soft weight of the Turk suit on his shoulders.

Yeah, he could get used to this. He totally could.

Chapter Text

At five to noon, Reno arrived at the gate. He'd headed out early for a turn through the dorm's living room, but to his disappointment only a couple of guys had been present, and they had been too caught up in their nerdy card game to notice him. The supervisor hadn't even looked up as Reno sauntered past his sorry cupboard of an office, and the school yard had been empty save for a handful of people. Just his luck that the day he was looking dapper as fuck, ninety percent of everyone had buggered off for the holidays.

A black car pulled up by the gate. The darkened window on the driver's side rolled down to reveal Tseng, who examined Reno as he walked up to the vehicle.

"Your tie is missing."

For the first time in his life, Reno felt thankful for the cold. With his jacket fastened up all the way, Tseng might not notice that he'd left his shirt untucked.

"Well, hello to you too," he drawled. "'Fraid we didn't run 'round with ties much down below."

"It was pre-tied. All you had to do was loosen it and slip it over your head."

"Yeah, I kinda loosened it a bit too far. I've got it in my pocket, tho'. Wanna tie it for me, Tsengy-kins?"

He smirked. Tseng didn't seem amused. Belatedly, Reno recalled the Turk's threats when it came to proper address.

"Uh... sir?" he added, then felt like an even bigger moron for doing so.

Tseng gave him another hard stare, then huffed sharply and leaned back in his seat.

"Just get in."

Reno sank into the seat beside Tseng with a sigh of pleasure. These Turk cars didn't look like much, but the feel of them more than made up for it. He hadn't been able to appreciate it during the previous couple of rides; being handcuffed and sandwiched between two stone-faced Turks sapped the joy out of most things. This was the first time he got to sit in front, too.

"Seatbelt."

Reno groaned. It seemed one stone-faced Turk was enough to dampen the thrill.

"We're gonna get back by five, right?" he asked as he pulled the belt across himself. "The school's doin' a Yuletide party tonight, and I don't wanna miss all the good stuff on the dinner table."

"We will, assuming you behave."

The car responded with an obedient purr as Tseng turned the key in the ignition. The sound sent a small shiver down Reno's back.

"Cool. So, what's the plan?"

"The plan is your first official training mission. We're going on patrol in Sector Eight."

Reno stared greedily out the window as Tseng turned onto a larger avenue, taking in every inch of the snowy city around him. The excitement had simmered inside him since breakfast and became more and more difficult to hide.

"A mission, huh? Don't I need a gun or somethin'?"

"Just use the weapon you wield best. Foul language."

"Oh, har har."

Tseng's lips twitched, but his voice was as collected as ever.

"It's a simple daytime patrol above plate. If we need guns, something will have gone very wrong."

"Then what's the damn point?"

Reno's griping was just a formality, really. Tseng could have told him they were going to spend an hour wandering around the basement of Shinra HQ, and Reno would still have bounced with glee over the chance to get off the school grounds.

"Getting the lay of the land, basically," the Turk explained, "and a feel for Midgar's pulse up above. Sector Eight is the busiest district on the plate, in terms of traffic, people, entertainment, flashing lights–"

"The place to party, huh?"

"Mm. Also the place to get easily distracted by all the excitement. It will test your ability to keep your mind – and your eyes – on the mission." They halted at a red light, and Tseng took the opportunity to fix him with a firm stare. "You're on the job now, Reno. Remember that."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he said with a dismissive wave and turned back to the scenery outside to hide the jolt of excitement that shot through him. On the mission. On the job. Fucking finally.

Soon after crossing the sector gap, Tseng pulled into a small lot and parked the car. He reached into the backseat and pulled out a gray scarf.

"Here," he said, dropping it in Reno's lap. "You're lucky Balto forgot this in the car. After a few hours on patrol, that little nip in the air will feel a whole lot worse. No gloves either, I take it?"

Reno shook his head, feeling a bit sheepish – though he was quick to flip that into irritation. How was he to know they were going to be walking around in the cold for hours? It wasn't a crime to want to look cool on the way to and from the car.

"Check the glove compartment," Tseng said as he bundled up in his own scarf and gloves.

Disappointingly, the glove compartment wasn't stuffed full of guns. Instead Reno found a bunch of papers, an open bag of chewing gum, and leather gloves that were a size too large.

"Whoa. Actual gloves in the glovebox," he said as he pulled them on. "Who would've thunk."

"I want those back too, once we're done here."

"Yeah, yeah. Ain't my style anyhow. A bit too 'old man', yo."

Reno grinned. Much to his surprise, he saw the corner of Tseng's mouth rise.

"I'm sure Balto will be delighted to hear that," he said.

Once he'd gotten out, Reno looked over the vehicle. Four doors, four wheels, lights at the front and the back. The only thing missing was the old man tan to go with the old man gloves.

"This his car, then? Would've thought he'd go for somethin' flashier. The guy won't shut up about beauty and curves and shit."

"Company car. We have a number of these for Turk use."

"So all Turks drive 'em? Hey, does that mean I can drive it back?"

"Not a chance."

Ignoring his grumbling reply, Tseng pointed his keychain at the car and locked it with a blip. Reno noted which pocket he slipped it into, but it was more of a habit than a plan in progress. Reno wasn't that stupid.

Tseng took them along a meandering route through the smaller streets of Sector 8, pointing out landmarks and other places of interest along the way. The towering facades were a far cry from the motley houses in the slums. Reno studied them curiously, trying to pinpoint the best points of entry.

A bunch of fancy buildings could only hold his interest for so long, though, and soon he turned his attention to the people they passed. Harried-looking men and women scurried along the streets, their hands full of shopping bags. Some aimed dirty looks at Tseng. Reno had received similar ones in the past, on his few topside excursions, but now most of the passers-by ignored him altogether.

"What's up with these people?" he griped after the third bastard bumped into his shoulder. "Don't they know a Turk suit when they see one?"

"Most of them don't," Tseng replied. "A nice suit doesn't have the same impact above plate as below. In this district, at least. Head into the shadier parts of topside Midgar and people will give you a wide berth." His lips curved in a faint smile. "Or a bullet between the eyes, if you're careless."

"Heh. Just like home." Reno noticed another man scowling at Tseng on his way past. "Don't it bother you, tho'? The way people look at ya?"

"It takes more than looks and words to bother a Turk. Besides..." The smile on Tseng's face was unmistakable this time. "I know that I could have them screaming for mercy in less than a minute, if I so wished."

Reno snorted and shook his head.

"You smile at the creepiest things, man."

Before long Tseng had led him out of the smaller streets, and Reno soon found that a few bumped shoulders were nothing. The main avenue was a sea of people. They milled below neon signs and winking Yuletide lights, rushing from shop to shop and jamming traffic. The air was a cacophony of shouts, honks and peppy Yuletide jingles. It was bright, beautiful chaos.

"Damn," Reno said, grinning. "You weren't kiddin' about the 'busy' part."

"Last chance for Yuletide shopping, which means every Midgar citizen with a woeful lack of foresight has come out of the woodwork," Tseng said dryly. "It's nothing unusual for Sector Eight, though. People from all over the plate come here for shopping and entertainment. A lot of tourists, too. Since you're the outgoing type, this might be a good place for you to start cultivating your contact network."

"My what now?"

"Your contacts. We have people who specialize in intel, but every Turk has a private network as well. You may know people in the slums, but I suggest you seek out a few topside connections, too. It makes a lot of jobs a lot easier."

"Huh."

Sure, Reno knew people. He knew who to sell to, and who to buy from. He knew who to go to for the latest word, who was too expensive to be worth it, who was too cheap to trust, and who to avoid at all costs. He'd just never thought of it as a contact network before.

"Come on," Tseng said as he headed down the avenue. "Let's try to make it to the other end without getting trampled. And keep your hands to yourself. No pickpocketing on my watch."

"Aw, c'mon! Show some Yuletide spirit, man."

"I am. To them."

It was easier than it first looked, once they joined the correct river of people and followed the current. As Reno strolled with the flow, he looked from sign to window display to passer-by, until his neck began to hurt. There was an ache in his stomach, too. He'd been too fidgety at lunch to focus on food.

"Yo Tseng, I'm starvin'. How 'bout we hit that place?"

Reno pointed to a window covered in Wutainese characters some way down a side street. It had been months since he'd had any Wutainese food, because First Sector High didn't serve any for some reason. Some war bullshit, probably.

"No. They put noodles in their egg drop soup." Tseng shuddered.

"Uh... That a bad thing?"

Tseng gave him The Look.

"So don't get egg drop soup. Problem solved, yo."

"No."

"No?"

"Problem not solved. Not only do they put noodles where no noodles should ever go, but overcook them too. That place is a disgrace."

"Oh, fine," Reno groaned. "You pick the place then, but you'd better feed me soon or I'm gonna mug the next one who walks past with their arms full of Yule chocolates."

"I'll get you a hot dog on the way. We're supposed to be working, not popping out for brunch."

"Oh. Oh, yeah."

He flashed a grin of apology, but Tseng didn't seem annoyed.

"Hey... ever been to that Wutainese place in Wall Market, near the gym with all the bros?" Reno asked as they continued along the avenue. "Lem's place? Their garuda noodles ain't bad."

"They know what do with noodles, I'll give them that. I wouldn't trust anything with meat in it, though."

"What, got somethin' against rat and cripshay?"

It was a joke, of course. Well, half a joke. Rats were so Mako-polluted they practically glowed in the dark, but cripshays weren't half bad. A bit like stir-fried popcorn.

"Some things were not meant for human consumption," Tseng muttered, making a face.

Two blocks later Reno got his hot dog, with all the trimmings, of course. The heat of it was just as welcome as the food itself. He'd wrapped Balto's scarf up to his ears, but that didn't help his feet. After several hours of walking in the snow, his toes were going numb.

He'd survived worse though, Reno mused as he munched on his hot dog, gazing in at another bright window display. He'd definitely had worse Yuletide Eves.

Speaking of Yuletide Eves... Reno began eyeing the displays with a new kind of interest. At the end of the avenue, he found what he'd been looking for.

"Hey, yo," he called to Tseng and pointed to a small shop across the street, "Can we pop in there for a bit?"

"If we don't leave now, you'll be late for the school's Yuletide party."

Ah, crap. Was it that late already? Visions flashed in his mind of all he had seen waiting in the pantry the night before, trussed up on the Yuletide table.

No, it was fine. He'd had a hot dog. He had other priorities right now.

"Yeah, but I gotta do a bit of shoppin' first."

"You do realize I can't let you get caught shoplifting on my watch?" Tseng asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "It would look bad on the report."

"C'mon, man, gimme some credit, will ya?" Reno huffed. "As if I'd get caught. 'Sides, I got gil, yo."

To prove it, he pulled out a few rumpled bills. Tseng arched an eyebrow as he studied them, but nodded.

"Fine, as long as you use that gil. I won't even ask where you got it."

"There's that Yuletide spirit!"

The shopkeeper spent most of her time scowling at Tseng, who loitered impatiently at the door. It would have been ridiculously easy to stuff his pockets and walk out, but Reno behaved himself; Tseng spent most of his time staring at him.

So, Reno picked out a gift, brought it to the counter, and paid for it with stolen gil like a good boy.

Reno slowed his pace as he entered the school dining hall and let his gaze roam across the room. Many-colored lights hung from every ceiling beam, twinkling like rainbow stars amidst pinecone wreaths and oranges stuck with rows of dried cloves like rivets. The tables were decked out with candles in tall glass holders and baskets full of paper flowers, likely made by the students. Reno wasn't too torn up about missing that particular activity.

Best of all, there wasn't a single uniform in sight. About two dozen teens were seated around the tables, all of them dressed up in their festive finest. Tonight, for a while, Reno could let himself forget this was his prison – as long as he ignored the weight around his ankle.

On his way to the serving table, Reno plucked an orange and held it up by his face, inhaling deeply. The strong scent of spicy fruit made him smile. He'd only seen clove oranges in pictures before. Some people used oranges with ribbons as decorations down in the slums, but cloves were too expensive. He'd always wondered what they smelled like.

"Those aren't for eating, boy."

The kitchen lady gave him a stern glare, her pudgy arms crossed over her chest. Instead of her usual kitchen getup she wore a red dress under her apron. With frills.

"Happy Yuletide to you too," he quipped with a crooked smile, hanging the orange back where he'd nabbed it.

Much to his surprise, the woman cracked a smile.

"Same back atcha." She nodded toward the serving table. "That's where the food is. Go ahead and tuck in. Dinner's on in an hour, though, so don't go spoiling your appetite."

"Dontcha worry 'bout that," he said, patting his belly. "Got plenty of room for whatever you're cookin' back there."

She chuckled. The woman was capable of chuckling.

"When it's you saying that, I don't doubt it."

As she headed back into the kitchen, Reno blinked away his astonishment and turned his attention to the table. He piled a plate high with gingerbread chocobos and trees, grabbed a mug of mulled cranberry juice, and turned around to scan the crowd in the dining hall. A couple of groups were still into the arts and crafts thing. Making paper snowflakes, it looked like. It had been a tradition back home. Back when he'd been too small to use scissors, he'd drawn the shapes and El had cut them out. Ma had taped them up in the windows.

Reno tore his gaze away. This was why he hadn't done Yuletide for years. He'd hoped it would be different above plate, though. Different enough. Maybe he'd been wrong.

He spotted her next to a window, a couple of seats away from a group seated at the same table. Cissnei's hair fell in loose waves down to her shoulders and shone copper in the candlelight. Her wine-red top was covered in lacy bits, which continued above the neckline of the solid fabric underneath. The elbow-length sleeves were the same thick lace, revealing just the tiniest glimpses of the skin beneath. Reno felt a fluttering in the pit of his belly.

Summoning a cocky smile, he sauntered through the dining hall toward her, soaking up the curious glances of the others along the way. Cissnei kept staring out the window, though, until he pulled back the opposite chair. She started, but when she looked up at his face a small smile found its way to her lips. Lips with the faint shimmer of lip gloss, he noticed.

"A pretty girl sittin' all by her lonesome?" Reno drawled as he dropped down in the seat. "That ain't right, yo."

Cissnei's smile grew. The sensation in his belly grew stronger, too.

"Wow. Look at you," she said. "A real suit and everything."

"Look closer," he said, grinning. "It ain't just any suit, y'know."

She did, and her eyebrows shot up.

"A Turk uniform?"

"Yup. Just got back from a day in the field with Tseng."

He managed just the right level of casual cool. Maybe he wasn't as rusty as he feared. Reno allowed himself the head of a gingerbread 'bo as a reward, along with a mouthful from his mug.

"Really?" she asked. What did you do?"

"Well, we drove to–" Ah crap, his mouth was full of soggy gingerbread. He paused to gulp it down, trying his best to ignore the smile she hid behind her own mug. "Just routine sector patrol in Eight," he continued with as much nonchalance as he could salvage. "Y'know, just lettin' people know we're out there, keepin' an eye on 'em. Keepin' the place safe and all that."

"Did you see the main avenue? It must have been packed today. And I bet it was full of lights everywhere."

"Eh, it was all right, I guess," he said, studying his fingernails.

"Just 'all right', huh?"

"Well... Maybe it was a tiny bit awesome, too. Just a lil' bit." He held up his thumb and forefinger, then shot her a grin.

"Oh, wow," she said, squinting at his fingers. "Almost a whole inch of awesome, huh? That's quite the Yuletide gift."

"Huh," he said slowly, tilting his head as he thought it over. "I guess it was."

Reno reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a small wrapped box, topped with a bow. A half-crushed bow, now. Whoops.

"Speakin' of, got a lil' somethin' for ya."

"For me?" She picked up the gift and turned it around in her hands. "I... I'm afraid I didn't get you anything."

"Eh, don't worry 'bout it. It's just some last minute thing."

Cissnei straightened out the bow and adjusted the ribbon on the sides, but she didn't remove it. Reno bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a groan. The only thing worse than waiting to open his own presents was waiting for others.

"C'mon, whatcha waitin' for? Open it already."

Reno kept his fingers pressed around his mug as he watched her unravel the red paper, even though it was a little too hot for comfort. If he let go, his fingers would refuse to stay still. Even now his thumbs wriggled up and down the smooth glaze, drawing restless patterns. It had been years since he watched someone open his Yuletide present. Four years – no, five. He'd pilfered an apple tart from a baker in Wall Market, wrapped it in newspaper and brought it home to his mother and sister. Their last Yuletide together before–

Reno dragged himself back to the present and took a big gulp of his mulled juice. Why couldn't they serve wine in this joint, or just spike their damned juice? All this stuff did was burn his tongue.

The sound of mechanical warking made him look up again. Cissnei was gaping at the chocobo that had jumped up when she opened her music box. So did everyone else at the table. The little red chocobo had quite the audience as it skated around slowly on one leg with its wings spread wide, "singing" the melody of some traditional Yuletide song Reno recognized but couldn't name.

"So... Whaddya think?"

It was a nice box, he thought, the kind he might have snatched up on a job for a bit of extra cash. Red wood decorated with hand-painted snowflakes, rounded corners. It made the surprise inside all the better.

Cissnei raised her gaze to his face and her eyes narrowed.

"Did you steal this?"

"Oh, c'mon, not you too!" he groaned, throwing his head back. "No, I didn't steal it. I bought it, from a shop, with real gil, 'kay?"

"Sorry," she said, offering an apologetic smile. "Thank you. This is..." She opened the lid again, and the chocobo popped up to continue its melodic warking. "It's ridiculous," she sputtered out between giggles.

Reno grinned.

"I know, right? Thought it might put a smile on your face, yo."

Cissnei lifted the box up to her face to study the wooden chocobo. There was a rare delight in her smile. A strange feeling swelled in Reno, making his chest feel tighter – but not in the bad way. When it became too much, he turned his head and looked out the window. Past the paper snowflakes he could see real ones, floating down at a leisurely pace.

"Hey, it's snowin' again! How 'bout we pop out for a look before dinner?"

"I'm not getting into a snow fight with you on Yuletide Eve," Cissnei dryly replied.

"No snow fights, I promise. We can stay right by the door, too. Just wanna take a peek."

"Okay. Just a peek."

Reno was on his feet as soon as he heard "okay". Cissnei got up, too, and only then did he realize that what he'd assumed was a pretty top was actually a dress that flared out just above her knees.

"Whoa. You're a stunner, Ciss."

The words were out before his brain caught up with his mouth. Reno nearly slapped himself, but she then smiled.

"Thanks," she said, and looked him up and down. "And you're pretty sharp in a suit."

Reno stood up a bit straighter, feeling a grin sneak onto his face. He felt even better when she picked up the box and brought it along.

They stopped right outside the door, in the shelter of the awning. He inhaled, and the crisp smell of fresh snow nipped at his nostrils, mingling with the spicy scent of the gingerbread pile on his plate.

"Y'know," he mumbled as he munched on one, "as far as Yuletides go, this one ain't half bad."

"Yeah." Cissnei smiled and opened the music box, letting the festive chocobo loose. "It's been pretty good."

She nabbed a gingerbread tree from his pile. Together they watched the snowfall, filling the stillness with tinny warking and the crunch of cookies.

Chapter Text

As soon as she and Shalua returned from their weekend visit to the mall, Cissnei made her excuses and slipped away. It was too cold to stay outside, though. In a quiet corner at the library, she took out her camera from her bag and placed it on the table, along with a couple of envelopes of processed film. She opened one of them and began flipping through the first of the two rolls she'd had developed in town.

Moments later she nearly scattered the photos on the floor when someone dropped a chair down beside her.

"Hiya, lil' girl. Whatcha got there?"

Reno straddled the chair and leaned over the back of it to pick up the second envelope.

"What I got is a heart attack," she hissed. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," he said with an unrepentant grin, then slouched over the back of the chair as he removed the photos from the envelope. "Huh, these are all black and white."

"Monochrome, remember?"

"Heh, yeah. Monochrome."

"I like using it for certain kinds of pictures," Cissnei explained as she tapped her scrambled pile of photos against the table for a neater stack. "Colors only get in the way when I'm looking for shapes and patterns."

"Huh, okay. So where'd ya take these?"

She glanced at the photos he was leafing through. The edge of a stone bench, cutting a straight line deep into the image. The smooth crescent of a concrete wall, with pebbles on one side and pathway tiles on the other. Scenes captured behind the school building, near the–

Oh. Oh, no.

"You shouldn't be looking at those."

She reached for them, but he snatched them aside, continuing his browsing.

"C'mon, just a quick peek, yeah? These are really cool."

"They're not–"

Cissnei cut herself off as the smile on Reno's face vanished in an instant. Too late.

She watched as he lifted the photo that had stolen his cheer, then the one below it. Fanned out in his hand, she could see all three images. Reno and the Bro Squad. Troy reaching for Reno. Reno shoving back.

"Are there more?" His voice held no emotion, but she didn't miss the slight tremble of the photos in his hands.

"I... I don't think so."

Reno lifted the third photo, and let out the breath he'd been holding. Underneath was another architectural shot. He flipped back.

"Titan's ass, look at me," he scoffed as he looked at the action photos again. "What a bony fucker. No wonder I was so fuckin' useless in that fight."

Cissnei swallowed at the venom in his voice.

"I'm sorry," she said. "When I took those I didn't know how bad it would get. I thought it'd just be a few guys showing off."

He huffed and slowly shook his head.

"At least you didn't take one where I'm gettin' my ass handed to me by those assholes."

"I can get rid of them, if you want. The negatives, too."

"Nah, it's fine," he sighed. "This one's actually pretty neat, y'know." He held up the one of him shoving Troy in the chest. Reno's face was a twisted mask of fury, while Troy's was almost comical in its wide-eyed surprise.

"Yeah," she said, giving him a shy smile. "It is."

"Got any others in here?"

"No. There's a couple of seniors making out behind the library in this lot though." Cissnei's smile turned crooked as she raised the stack of color photos she'd been looking through. "Caught King Bro and Eelface smoking, too."

"Artsy fartsy shots and tabloid dirt, huh?" he asked, grinning. "Nice. Show me the juicy stuff, yo."

With muffled giggles and hushed commentary, they looked through the photos together.

"Don't see any pics of you in here," Reno said once they had checked out both sets.

"Of course not," she said with a wry smile. "I'm behind the camera."

"You never take pics of yourself? Or have someone else take 'em?"

Her smile waned. She turned away and placed the photos back in their envelopes.

"What?" he wondered.

"I don't like pictures of myself."

"Why not? You're pretty. I proved that to ya already, didn't I?"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him grin, but she couldn't muster up one of her own.

"I don't like my eyes," she muttered.

"Really? What's wrong with 'em?"

"They look like shark eyes."

Reno snorted.

"Get outta here. Shark eyes are all black and weird-lookin'. Yours are nice."

"No, they're lifeless. There's nothing there."

He was silent a while.

"Got film in that camera?" he asked when she leaned down to put away the envelopes.

"Yeah, I got a new roll when– Hey! What are you doing?"

Reno had snatched up her camera, and hopped out of her reach when she tried to take it back.

"I think you need another point of view, yo."

"Give that back!"

"Just a sec. Just gotta... Ah fuck, how d'ya make the pics sharp with this thing?"

"I'm not going to tell you," she huffed and held out her hand. "Hand it over."

"I think you'd better, unless ya want me to accidentally fuck up your nice lil' camera," he sang, giving the dial around the shutter a tentative poke.

"Shit, don't–" She sighed when he glanced up at her with that wicked grin. "The lens. Rotate the lens."

"The what now?"

"The round thing at the front."

He turned the camera over for a look, then gave it a go.

"A-ha! There we go. Now all we need is a smile."

Cissnei gave him a withering stare.

"Oh, c'mon. You ain't even tryin'!" He fumbled his way closer, peeking through the viewfinder. "C'mon, Ciss," he cooed. "I know ya can do better than that. Who's a pretty girl, eh?"

"I'm not a dog," she said, keeping her face serious.

"Shame, that," he chuckled. "A dog might do as she's told. Now I gotta put some work into it."

"That's... I don't even know what that is, but I'm pretty sure I should be offended."

"Y'know, you're prob'ly right. Lemme make it up to ya, yeah? I'll take a real nice picture of ya. All you gotta do is show a smile for ol' Reno. Just a teeny tiny one will do. C'mon, Ciss, don't make me bring out the really bad jokes. 'Cause I will, and then we'll both be sorry."

Closer and closer he scooted, cajoling in a singsong voice that got more and more ridiculous with each step. When the lens almost touched her nose, she gave up and leaned back, giggling. That same second, she heard the snap of the shutter.

"There," Reno said, handing her the camera with a smug smile on his face. "Take a look at that one. Ya might see somethin' new."

"You're such a jerk," she groaned as she snatched it from him, but couldn't keep the laughter from her voice.

"Yeah, yeah, that's what everyone keeps tellin' me," he drawled with a dismissive wave, sitting down next to her again.

As Cissnei stowed away her camera in her bag, she caught a glimpse of the quarterly report card she'd received the day before.

"Hey, you got your grades too, right?"

"Ehh, I got some envelope, but didn't bother lookin' at it."

"Aren't you curious?"

"Pfft, what's the point," he scoffed. "Ain't like any of it matters."

"Well, I'm curious. Take a look for me? Pretty please?"

Cissnei pouted and batted her eyelashes. Reno gave her a dirty look.

"What's with the damn puppy eyes? That ain't fair, y'know."

"Blame yourself," she cooed. "You started it when you kidnapped my camera and held it hostage."

"Oh, fine."

Reno pulled out a crumpled envelope from his trouser pocket. So indifferent about his grades, yet he carried them around? Cissnei refrained from commenting, and just watched as he ripped it open and pulled out a sheet of paper. He paused, swallowed, unfolded it. Then his mouth fell open.

"Well?" she prompted.

Still he just stared. Cissnei gave him a careful nudge with her elbow.

"What is it?"

"It's a B." His laughter was shrill with incredulity. "It's a goddamn B!"

He showed her his report card: two passed courses. D in Algebra, and B in Biology.

"Holy shit," he mumbled. "I got a B."

The dazed grin on his face made Cissnei smile, too.

"I knew you could do it. How about we celebrate with some cake? My treat."

"Seriously?"

He was staring at her now, and breathed the word in slow-motion. Cissnei pushed herself to her feet, chuckling at his expression.

"Come on, Mister B. Let's get you that cake."

"This is amazin'," Reno said through a mouthful of red velvet cake. "This is the best cake ever, yo."

They sat perched at a tiny round table in the very middle of the school café. Reno had never been inside before. The cakes and cookies weren't free, and while it would have been easy enough to loot a few lockers, he'd known that eyebrows would be raised if someone like him showed up waving gil around. He was beginning to regret not coming in sooner.

"Do you know where the color comes from?" Cissnei asked, and he shook his head. "Beetroots."

"Seriously? You can make cake with those things?" He lopped off another chunk that was too large for his dainty pie fork and shoved it into his mouth, and tried to pick up on the beetroot flavor as he chewed. "Huh, can't tell at all."

"I've got to pop into the little girls' room. Be right back."

"Better hurry, or I might finish yours," he warned, grinning.

"Don't you dare."

She shot him a glare as she got up to leave, though its menace was undercut by her having to hop down from the café's tall chairs.

Reno eyed the cake on her plate as he munched on another piece of his own. It was a sponge cake with two layers of pink mousse and white icing. He wondered if she'd notice a piece missing as he sliced off more of his red velvet cake and lifted it to his mouth.

Someone smashed into his elbow, knocking the cake off his fork. Reno whipped his head up and glared.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Would you look at this?" King Bro sneered, glancing at the blonde girl under his arm. "He's trying to use a fork like a real person."

"Doesn't seem to be going so well, though," Eelface added. He seemed to be alone, but a brunette was hanging off the arm of Mama's Boy.

They had him surrounded. The exit was blocked. Reno felt the adrenaline shoot through his veins, but knew he had to rein it in. This was a public place. Too many witnesses.

"Haha, very funny," he scoffed. "Now fuck off."

King Bro was about to answer, when something behind Reno caught his eye.

"Whoa, is this some kind of date? What, you're pretending to be straight, too?"

Cissnei appeared next to Reno, her chin low and her face set in a scowl.

"Gods, I don't know which to feel more sorry for," Eelface said. "Her for ending up with this loser, or him for being stuck with the psycho bitch."

That settled it. Reno could mouth off to these shitheads all day, but he'd be damned if he let them sneer at her. He slid off his chair, determined to plow through these bastards if he had to.

"C'mon, Ciss. I ain't hungry no more."

He made his way around the table, but King Bro took his arm off his girl and stepped into his path. Reno didn't stop.

"Hey, now, we weren't–"

King Bro grabbed his shoulder. Before Reno could process what was happening, he had smacked the guy's hand off and jumped back.

"Keep your fuckin' hands off me!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I touch you?"

Reno blinked away the memory. It was fleeting, but it was enough to set off a swell of nausea and tighten his chest to the point of physical pain.

"You know, normal people don't freak out about something like this." King Bro jabbed his index finger toward Reno's shoulder, who flinched back. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. I mean, how are you ever going to get laid?"

Reno bared his teeth in a rictus grin. He had to play it cool. He couldn't lose his head, not in here.

"That's what you're all worked up about? Didn't know you swung that way, Domino."

This time, he managed to duck past the guy, but he only made two steps before he heard Cissnei cry out. Reno spun around and saw that Eelface had grabbed hold of her bag.

"Let me go!" she spat and shoved him back hard enough to make him lose his grip.

"Heyyy, just wanted to ask if you'd like better company." As she scowled and stalked over to Reno's side, he laughed. "Hey, Rat, you'd better put this wildcat on a leash. Would hate to have something happen if she strays."

Reno had turned toward the door with Cissnei, but that made him freeze to the spot. The pressure was rising up to his head, swelling into a dull ache in his skull. Take deep breaths and leave the situation, the shrink had said. Avoid confrontation. Only, Reno didn't want to leave the situation anymore. He was itching to have a good old "confrontation" with this little shit.

"We can take them."

He stared Cissnei in surprise. She'd muttered it so quietly no one else had picked up on it, but Reno knew what he'd heard. She looked calm, but her chest was heaving.

"We've done it before," she added, and a faint smile appeared on her lips.

She was right about that. He'd hadn't had a physical fight with these assholes since; they always came at him in public these days. Goading him in classrooms and hallways, around other students who would point fingers at Reno the second he used anything more than foul language. The fucking cowards wouldn't give him the chance to–

Cowards.

That was it. That's what they were. Always taunting him in public, where others would intervene. Never when he was alone, and free to throw the first punch. Free to kick their goddamned asses again.

Fucking cowards.

Would hate to have something happen...

Take a deep breath, Reno. Use your words.

We can take them.

The thoughts frothed in Reno's head, smashing against his skull until it was hard to tell where one of them ended and another began. He knew it would stop if he'd just shove his fist into King Bro's smarmy smile, and it was tempting, so fucking tempting, but starting a fight in front of witnesses would get him expelled, cost him what little freedom he had left. Tseng had made it clear he wouldn't bend the rules for Reno again.

Hang on.

Bend the rules. Play with the rules. Use their own rules against them. That's how Turks worked.

An idea shone bright through the buzzing cloud in Reno's head. He latched onto it, began to shape it. Maybe there was a way he could have his cake and eat it, too.

He even had the pie fork still in his hand.

"What's the problem, Rat? Can't you find the fucking door?"

Reno took a deep breath. Thanks for the tip, Mister Shrink, he thought, shifting the fork around to hide it from view. He'd use his words, all right.

"Get ready, Ciss," he mumbled under his breath. "Showtime."

She said nothing, but when they both turned around, he took note of the way she planted her feet and angled her body. She was ready.

They were both ready.

Chapter Text

The café was dead quiet. Everyone was staring at them. King Bro took a step forward, with Eelface right by his side.

"Keep walking, Rat. In fact, keep walking until you fall off the plate. No one wants your lousy ass here."

The tension buzzing in Reno's head had travelled to his limbs, had coiled his muscles, primed his body, made him ready. He grinned.

"That so? Ya might wanna ask your girlfriend about that." He looked over to the blonde girl who'd been hanging off Troy's arm and winked. "Hiya, babe."

She blushed. King Bro's girlfriend actually blushed.

Troy's smug expression soured, but only for a second. When it returned, it was smarmier than ever.

"That's funny. That's real funny. What else can you expect from a walking joke? So walk away, like you always do." He laughed and raised his arms in a shrug. "After all, there's nothing else you can do."

I know that I could have them screaming for mercy in less than a minute, if I so wished.

Reno pictured Tseng's disturbing smile as he'd said that, and placed that smile on his own lips.

"I can do plenty, douche bro. Found any alarm clocks under the bed lately? How 'bout your stuff stuck to the ceiling, ever get all that down? Or that jump rope maze in your room, oh man, that was a fun one. They were laughin' about that for weeks." Reno mimicked King Bro's laughter. "Nothin' you can do 'bout that, huh?"

Troy Domino's sneer vanished as scattered titters spread through the audience. This time it stayed gone.

"You think you're hot shit now that you're above plate, huh?" he growled, stepping closer. "Think you're the life of the fucking party? Think again, dumbass. Once a slum rat, always a slum rat. You'll never be worth anything."

"Oh I dunno, you sure seem to like stickin' your dick in slum rats." He smirked at King Bro's girlfriend, whose face went white with rage. "She worth anything to ya?"

In the silence that followed, Eelface slapped his hands together in a slow applause.

"Spoken like true trash," he mocked, then looked at Cissnei. "See, little girl? This is why I wanted to give you the chance to get away from this piece of shit."

Cissnei showed no reaction, but the crowd was murmuring, staring daggers at Reno. Shit.

"That's your game, huh, clown?" Domino scoffed. "You're too chicken to face me so you go after my girl? Stick clocks under my head, mess up my room? You're nothing but a fucking coward. Get lost, little man."

The crowd was on his side now. A flash of panic stole the words from the tip of Reno's tongue. Shit, shit, shit.

"You want to talk about trash?" Cissnei piped up, her voice sweet as honey. "How about we talk about the time the three of you attacked a girl half your size? How you chased her down and jumped her?" She glanced over at the blonde girl in the audience. "Or how about we talk about all the girls you've fooled around with behind your girlfriend's back?"

"You need to shut your fucking face." Domino glared at her, fists tight, nostrils flaring. Reining himself in.

Keep pushing. Focus on Domino.

"Who's gonna make us? You?" Reno sniggered. "Think your lil' bro squad makes you somebody, Mister Swim Captain? Think it's gonna impress your granddaddy or somethin'?"

King Bro's face turned as red as the velvet cake on Reno's plate. Jackpot.

"You're making a big–"

"Oh, give it a rest! All you've got is the fancy-ass surname, Domino. Everyone knows you're good for jack-shit on your own. Hell, you can't even get rid of me." Reno laughed and wagged a finger under Domino's nose as he carefully shifted his weight. "Maybe you oughta call grandpa and cry 'bout the mean lil' slum rat, huh? I'll bet your granddaddy has to come over and wipe your ass–"

With a snarl, King Bro lunged. Swimmer boy was fast, but Reno was ready. He danced to the side and used the guy's own momentum to throw him sprawling to the ground. Domino knocked over a table as he landed on all fours, and before he could get up Reno had grabbed his arm and wrenched it up behind his back. His own free arm, the one holding the pie fork, he hooked around King Bro's neck. The guy stopped squirming the moment Reno pressed the tines against his skin.

"Yeah, ya feel that, dontcha?" he whispered.

He hazarded a glance in Cissnei's direction. Eelface was bent forward on his knees, one arm pressed against the ground and the other twisted back at an unnatural angle. Cissnei stood next to him with a firm grip on his wrist. When Eelface tried to squirm away she pulled harder.

"You'd best stay still," she crooned. "Would hate to have something happen to your arm."

With a grunt of pain, he gave in and stopped moving. Reno grinned.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" King Bro cried, drawing Reno's attention back to his own captive.

"The fuck d'ya think you're doin', huh?" Reno growled in his ear, low enough that only he could hear. "Think you're hot shit because your granddaddy has a fancy office? Think again, dumbass." He pushed the fork a tiny bit deeper into the guy's neck, making sure it stayed hidden from the dozens of spectators around them. "I can end you, right now, and you and your granddaddy can't do shit about it."

"You're crazy. You're fucking crazy!"

"Naw, man, I ain't crazy," he drawled, raising his voice. "Least that's what my shrink keeps tellin' me. But I guess they must've had a reason to send me to him, yeah? Maybe he was just bein' polite."

Reno glanced over his shoulder. Cissnei still had her guy under control. Mama's Boy seemed to be on his girlfriend's leash. She clung to his arm, whispering frantically, while he stared wild-eyed at his friends. Reno sent him a grin.

"How 'bout you, buddy? Want some more fingers smashed?"

Mama's Boy held up his hands and stumbled backwards into the ring of observers, then jumped as the door to the cafeteria flew open. Reno turned his head just in time to see his dorm supervisor storm in with the café's proprietor scurrying along behind him. The supervisor planted his hands on his hips and glared.

"What the hell is going on here!"

Reno stared at the door to the principal's office. How much time was Tseng going to waste in there? A glance at the clock told him it had been ten minutes. It felt like twenty. His stomach growled.

He wasn't worried, per se. His plan had worked and no one got hurt – not unless you counted King Bro's pride. Eelface's, too. Reno had known what Cissnei could do, but those stuck-up sons of bitches must have gotten the shock of their lives.

"What are you grinning about?"

He looked over at his partner in crime. They both sat on the very edges of their chairs, but while he slouched nigh-horizontal with his arms folded over his chest, Cissnei was perched primly, squeezing the edge of the seat with both her hands.

"The look on King Bro's face," he said, grinning wider.

The sound she made was somewhere between a laugh and a snort.

"You do remember he's Mayor Domino's grandson, don't you?"

"What're ya so worked up about, huh? It was your idea."

"I know, but we are the ones sitting outside the principal's office, not them. This was not part of my plan."

Reno paused. She wasn't trying to deny it or to blame it on him. Partners in crime, indeed. Out of nowhere, that fluttery sensation returned; the one he'd first felt when he saw her on Yuletide eve.

"Relax," he drawled, nudging her arm with his elbow. "They'll get their turn. The whole café saw us tryin' to leave first, not to mention him throwin' the first punch. We're good."

The smug grin returned to Reno's face. Exploited the rules for their own gain, that's what he and Cissnei had done. Like a pair of motherfucking Turks.

"Then what's taking so long?" she hissed.

Reno gave a careless shrug.

"Guess one of 'em's got things to say, yo."

Indeed, he wasn't worried about their own fates... but he did wonder about the assholes on the other side of the fight. Cissnei claimed the rules said they should get expelled, or at least suspended. When Shinra was involved, though, Reno had learned that "rules" and "should" were very relative terms.

The door opened and Tseng stepped out, his expression carefully blank. Behind him, Reno glimpsed the fuming red face of the principal. Hopefully that was a good sign. Cissnei stiffened and straightened up in her seat even more, but Reno just followed the Turk with his eyes, as the man came up to them and gave them each a long, hard stare.

"Brawling in a cafeteria full of students," Tseng said. "You two are not ones for discretion, are you?"

"In this case? Hell no," Reno replied with a sardonic smile. "Nobody takes my word for anythin' in this shithole. Better to have a room full of witnesses sayin' I kept a cool head."

The Turk looked down at him, examining his face, then looked back at Cissnei.

"Ender Arkham says you threatened to break his arm."

"I was merely giving him due warning, sir. Wristlocks can easily lead to unfortunate injuries."

She spoke calmly, as if she was answering a question in class. Reno grinned.

"You should've seen her take that fucker down, Tseng. So fuckin' badass, yo!"

Tseng turned on him and fixed him with the full power of his stare.

"Troy Domino claims you threatened to kill him with a fork. What's your 'word' on that?"

Reno toned down his grin to a guiltless smile.

"Like I said, room full of witnesses. Did anyone see a fork?"

"Cissnei?"

"Didn't see one, sir."

Tseng's gaze kept boring into him, even while the man addressed her. The staring contest moved beyond uncomfortable and began to approach the ridiculous.

"I hope you got rid of the evidence."

Did the guy have x-ray vision? Reno could have sworn he hadn't so much as twitched an eyebrow.

"'Course I did," he said, letting his smirk grow wider.

Tseng nodded, then cracked a slight smile.

"Well played, both of you. Follow me."

Reno nearly slid off his chair in surprise. As he clambered to his feet and fell in behind the Turk, he traded a glance with Cissnei. She looked as puzzled as he felt.

Tseng led them to the yard behind the administration building. The bare-branched apple tree was heaped around with snow, so this time he chose to stay on the shoveled path to the back door.

"You two are off the hook," he began. "Troy Domino's case will be presented to the board tomorrow. The principal has kindly agreed to argue for his expulsion."

"Seriously? Hart agreed to that?" Reno asked, rubbing his hands together. The weather had taken a turn for the frigid overnight.

"He did, once I explained that the boy will be sent to the Military Academy instead. Veld will make sure Mayor Domino sees this turn of events as the... kindness it is."

"The fucker makes my life hell and his 'punishment' is a school with a fancier name?" Reno scoffed. "Why ain't I surprised."

"You don't approve?" Tseng asked, cocking an eyebrow. Much to Reno's surprise, it didn't sound like sarcasm.

"C'mon, Tseng. The guy's just gonna use ol' granddad again to land himself some nice big army title, and then he'll spend the rest of his life bossin' people around. The asshole's gonna love it, yo."

"It is true that some bullies do well in a military environment. Our head of Public Safety is proof of that." Tseng's lips twitched, but Reno didn't quite get the joke. "In Troy Domino's case, though, doing well means a swift deployment to Wutai. Promising soldiers must get their chance to prove themselves on the front, after all. If he comes back from that with a high rank, he will have earned it – in a way that benefits Shinra."

"Yeah, just as I thought," Reno grumbled. "Who cares about some slum kid as long as Shinra gets a good deal, right?"

"He has a long road ahead of him first. From what I know of young Domino, he will likely have trouble adjusting to military life. And being troublesome at the Academy, well... I hear the instructors are fond of making ornery cadets scrub the toilets. With a toothbrush."

Now that was a fine mental image. Very fine indeed.

"Damn," said Reno with a snigger of delight. "Guess I joined the right team after all."

"What about his friends?" Cissnei asked.

"The Arkham boy is suspended for a week," the Turk explained. "The other will get away with a stern talking-to from Principal Hart and a session with the school counselor."

"Should've expelled Eelface too, if ya ask me," Reno muttered. "The guy put his grubby paws on Ciss first. Threatened her, too!"

Tseng gave them both a puzzled look.

"Eel... face?"

"Our... nickname for Arkham," Cissnei explained.

"Eelface," he repeated to himself, shaking his head. "What did he say to you?"

As she recounted the incident that had sparked the fight, Reno's fists began to itch. It was only fair that she'd been the one to put the little shit in line, but he would've loved to have had a go at the guy himself.

Tseng frowned.

"I'll make sure the principal knows this before the boy's hearing. The Academy might just receive two new cadets before the end of the week. Thank you, Cissnei. That will be all."

She gave a sharp nod and turned to leave. The relief was plain on her face. Reno wondered if she recognized it as such.

"Reno, a word," Tseng added when he made to follow her.

He sighed, and shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets to keep his fingers from going numb. His gloves weren't nearly as nice as the ones he'd borrowed during his first stint in the Turk suit. Then again, maybe he'd be able to afford a pair like that on his Turk salary.

"What's up?"

Aside from a redness of the ears, Tseng showed no signs of being bothered by the cold. Come to think of it, the suit had been pretty cozy during the Sector 8 patrol.

"I heard you passed your first courses," the Turk said.

"Two of 'em, yeah."

Reno reined in the urge to boast about the Biology grade, but couldn't stop the grin spreading on his face. His first goddamned B.

"I will take that as a sign that you're serious about your future Turk career."

The question gave him pause. It occurred to him that he no longer thought of it as an "if". At some strange point in time it had become a matter of "when".

"Guess I am, yeah."

"Good. We can move on with your training, then. Your driving lessons begin next week."

"Driving lessons?" Reno laughed. "C'mon, man, I can drive."

"Hot-wire a car for a joyride, maybe. We're not letting you loose in traffic until you learn the rules."

Reno threw his head back and groaned.

"You guys take the fun out of everythin', yo."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. After all, you must know the rules... to know when and where to break them."

A thin smile had appeared on Tseng's face, but he didn't seem to be joking. Reno gave a kind of muffled snort; part delight, part disbelief.

"It doesn't have to end with cars, either," Tseng continued. "Have you ever wanted to fly a plane? Or a helicopter?"

Reno's mouth fell open.

"You're shittin' me."

"Many Turks are certified pilots. If you want the chance to become one, all you have to do is pass the medical and stay clean."

He just stared. Tseng gave another tight-lipped smile.

"First things first, though. We have another mission. You and I, tomorrow."

Reno grinned. The day just kept getting better and better.

"Cool. Where to this time?"

"Sector Four. The slums."

His smile evaporated.

"What for?"

"Intel. We received word that a contact has something on a suspected group of insurgents."

How quick it was – the fall from the dizzying heights among the clouds to the hell below plate.

Reno had known this would come sooner or later. He had no love for the slums, but it was the only home he'd known, and going down there under the banner of the Turks was a big step. A final step. Once he was seen parading around below in a Turk suit, he would never be able to return to his old life.

But what was his life down there compared to life as a Turk? With or without them, his freedom was already gone. At least a lifetime of service to Shinra came with fancy suits and fast cars... not to mention planes and frigging choppers.

"You better gimme my knife back or somethin'. I ain't goin' below plate emptyhanded."

"You'll receive a standard issue Shinra security baton for the duration of the mission."

"What, like a nightstick?" When Tseng nodded, Reno gave him a withering look. "You expect me to go down there with nothin' but a stick?"

"This is still a training mission. Daytime, a known contact, no gang turf. You know the area, too."

Yeah, he knew the area, but still. A goddamned stick. Reno was better armed on jobs he planned to ghost. For this he'd be wandering the streets in full view, with a stick.

Well... A stick and a Turk. That had to count for something. Tseng had to be packing more than just a fucking stick, after all.

"Just intel, huh?"

"Just intel. Low risk."

Reno sighed, then gave a resigned nod.

"Fine. Let's do it."

Chapter Text

Cissnei watched the woman in front of her. Brown hair in a bun, lighter brown skin, a pastel purple cardigan over a white shirt. She had talked to the school counselor before, in a routine meeting at the start of her studies at First Sector High. Why she had been called in today, Cissnei did not know.

"So," the counselor began, "how's it going?"

"Fine."

"How's school?"

"Fine."

She kept rolling her pen in her hands. In the time it had taken Cissnei to come in and sit down, the woman had adjusted the stacks of paper on her desk six times.

"What about your friends?" she asked. "Everything okay with them?"

"Sure."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Suspicions were beginning to take shape in Cissnei's mind, but she did her best to keep the frown off her face.

"No."

"I hear you've made a new friend recently. A boy from your class."

"You mean Reno."

"Yes. Can you tell me a bit about him?"

Her hunch had been correct. She should have known the fight would bring down more on her than just a stern talking-to from the principal.

In the principal's office, she had played the remorseful but ultimately innocent student. Faced with solicitous questions like these, though, she found herself fumbling for a role that might fit.

"He's nice," Cissnei blurted out when she realized the pause had stretched on for too long. "Nicer than people think."

"He's a bit older than you, isn't he?"

Cissnei shrugged.

"I guess."

"What do you do together?"

"We just hang out."

The counselor glanced at one of her paper stacks. Cissnei tried to take a peek, too, but she sat too far from it to decipher the upside-down text.

"I heard he's been in some trouble with other students," the woman said.

Something passed over the gray within. A ripple so faint it barely disturbed the surface. Cissnei tensed.

"It's not his fault. Those jerks won't leave him alone."

"I see. There was a fight recently, wasn't there?"

"Yes."

"Were you scared?"

Cissnei gave her a blank look. What did "scared" feel like? She'd felt her heart pounding in her throat at the time, and her hands hadn't stopped trembling while she sat outside the principal's office with Reno... but scared?

"No."

The woman's forehead creased, but she quickly smoothed out her expression. Cissnei hid a frown of her own. Wrong answer.

"What about when you're alone with Reno?" the woman asked. "Do you ever feel uncomfortable around him?"

"No."

She set down her pen and placed her forearms on the desk, leaning forward.

"Has he ever asked you to do something that, maybe, you didn't–"

"Look, we just talk about stuff and do homework together! What's the big deal?"

The counselor fell silent. Cissnei saw several emotions flicker across her face: frustration, concern, distaste, covered by a polite smile. She was after something, something other than the fight, but Cissnei wasn't sure what it was.

"Those bruises on your legs...," the woman finally said. "How did you get them?"

Cissnei instinctively looked down. The hem of her skirt had slid up a bit when she sat down, exposing the purple blotch that marred her left knee. The knee-high winter socks covered more on her shins. She knew about them, of course – she just hadn't given them much thought.

"Self-defense class," she said, tugging the hem down.

"Do you like self-defense class?"

"Not especially."

The woman's veneer of cheer was failing fast.

"Why do you take them, then?"

"I need them."

Cissnei was still fidgeting with her skirt, arranging the pleats again and again. She forced herself to stop.

"Why do you need them?" the counselor asked.

"For my training program. I'm a candidate for the Department of Administrative Research at Shinra."

"I see. Reno is a candidate too, isn't he?"

"Again?" Cissnei snapped. "Why do you keep bringing him up?"

She mentally kicked herself. She had to get her act together, now, and stop blurting out the first thing that came to her mind.

The counselor was quiet a while, then sighed.

"Do you know why I called you here today?"

"No."

"Your friends are worried about you. They say you've been quiet and distant lately. And..." The counselor paused, watching her face. "You've been sneaking out, haven't you? At night?"

Cissnei's eyes flew wide. How could she not have seen it earlier? There was only one person who knew about that. Only one person who would "worry".

"You're not in trouble," the woman added quickly. "We just want to make sure you're okay. I know you might feel like you're alone and have no one to talk to, but you can always come see me, or talk to one of the teachers. If you don't want to talk about it right now, that's fine. You can always come back later."

Cissnei glared at the desk. A pressure was building within the gray, simmering just beneath the surface. She had no idea what would happen when it reached the boiling point, she just knew that she had to get out of this room before that happened.

"Does that mean I can go now?" she ground out through clenched teeth.

The counselor watched her a moment, then gave a resigned nod.

"Sure."

Leaving the tiny office didn't help. The pressure in her chest only grew as she stomped out of the administration building and toward the girls' dorm. No matter how she tried, she couldn't make it stop.

The conversation kept replaying in her head, with every change in the counselor's expression. It had been written so clearly on her face. Cissnei could read exactly what the counselor thought of Reno, and she had just... lost it. Forgot her role.

She needed to get a hold of herself. She needed to calm down, now, and there was no way she could do that in the room she shared with... that traitor. Cissnei stopped in her tracks and did a full turn, heading toward the little yard with the apple tree.

Reno wasn't there. He wasn't at the running track either, or at the gym. She even snuck over to his window for a peek, but the room was empty. His school uniform lay in a rumpled pile on the bed.

Of course. His training mission with Tseng. He'd be out all evening.

Cissnei closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The library. She could fetch her books and go read in the library. That always brought her peace.

Her – their – room wasn't empty, though.

"Hi," Shalua said.

Her voice was timid. Cissnei stalked past her without so much as a glance and threw a couple of textbooks into her bag.

"Are you... okay?"

Cissnei remained silent and tossed the bag over her shoulder, but when she tried to leave, Shalua jumped off the bed and spread her arms to block the doorway.

"Wait, please! Just... say something? Please?"

Cissnei raised her head and met the other girl with a violent stare.

"I thought you said you could keep a secret," she hissed.

Shalua flinched, and her face crumpled.

"I was worried! I was there, you know, at the café. I heard him! I saw what he did!"

"He was just defending himself! If you were there, you had to see that too!"

"Sure, Troy and the others were out of line, but Reno..." Shalua shook her head. "Didn't you see his face? He looked wild. He was laughing, like he'd gone crazy! And the things he was saying..."

"You don't know anything about him," Cissnei spat.

"I was just worried about you!"

"I don't need your worry!" Cissnei pushed past Shalua and stormed out.

Halfway to the library, she had to stop. Her chest heaved with rasping breaths and she could feel the same burn beneath her eyelids as the first time Reno brought her to the school kitchen. With a haste bordering on panic she rushed down the stairs and sought out a quiet nook behind the school house. She slumped down on a stone bench, squashing the snow beneath her.

Why today? Why did Reno have to be out today? If he'd been there, he would have known what was going on inside her with just one look at her. How was she supposed to deal with this, when she didn't even understand what this was?

A sudden thought made her go still. What if he wasn't on a mission? What if the principal knew about them sneaking out at night and had sent Reno away, like that boy in Shalua's story?

No. No, that wasn't true. Reno was different. He wouldn't just up and leave her like that. He wouldn't!

Cissnei shut her eyes and pressed the heels of her palms to her eyelids, but that didn't lessen the burn. Squeezing them tighter together, she thought of Reno's voice, mumbling words she could barely make out over her sobs. She thought of his arms around her, stroking her back. She thought of his hands, rubbing circles–

–rubbing circles on her back, holding her close. Her mother smelled strange, not like the mom she knew at all, but it was her, only much thinner, and so pale. "Don't cry," she'd said. "Be a brave girl, mi cisne." But Cissnei had cried, cried so hard her whole body shook.

The memory shocked her eyes open. The image was gone, but the crushing, overwhelming feelings remained. Cissnei stared straight ahead, hugging herself tight, as the tears streamed down her cheeks and speckled the snow.

Most people in the slums wanted nothing to do with the Turks. They would make themselves scarce as soon as the word came down: black suits on the prowl, looking for information. Everyone knew one thing, though. When the Turks were knocking on your door, you smiled and you took their gil and you told them everything you knew, because it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

Everyone knew that. That's why Reno didn't see it coming. Not even Tseng saw it coming.

One second they were swaggering into one of the ramshackle houses that crowded some nameless alley under Sector 4. The next, Reno was on his knees on the floorboards, retching and clutching his side as it pulsed with white-hot agony. His eyes squeezed shut with pain, but he heard the shouts and the sounds of a brawl. Just as he managed to force his eyes open, a body slammed to the floor right in front of him. The next moment he heard the crack of splintering wood.

"Get up. Get up!"

A hand grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet, sending a searing flash down his side. Another shoved a pistol into his hand.

"Watch him," Tseng snarled. "If he moves, shoot to kill."

He took off through the gaping doorway, vaulted over the broken door, and was gone. Reno didn't get a chance to reply. He didn't get a chance to say he'd never held a gun in his life, much less fired one. All he could do was keep the muzzle pointed at this other punk's chest. The barrel shook and he couldn't seem to make it stop. Just the adrenaline, Reno told himself. That's why his breath was so ragged, too. Just adrenaline. He had a gun. He was good, he was in control.

Just adrenaline, and the pain in his side. Whatever they used to smack his ribs had fucking stung.

"Yo, man, what's with the gun, huh?" The man panted his words between shallow gasps for air, rocking slightly on his knees with his hands up by his ears. "You don't need that, do ya? It's just me, yeah? You know me, man. I ain't gonna hurt a fly."

The pistol was heavier than Reno had expected. The grip pressed into the heel of his palm, warm to the touch. Warmed by Tseng's body heat. Tseng, who was running farther and farther away from him with every second, leaving him stuck with some jacked-up junkie in this shady dump that stunk of sour sweat and piss and worse.

He was good, all good. He had a gun. He could handle this.

"You and your pal jumped us two minutes ago, jackass," Reno drawled with a cool he didn't feel. "If you're gonna lie to me, put some fuckin' effort into it, yo."

The man grinned, and the mouthful of brown stumps made Reno's stomach turn. There was something about the expression that made him pause, though; some faint familiarity that tugged at his memory.

"C'mon, man, don't be like that," the guy said. "Dontcha remember me? It's me! Your old pal! Ya gotta remember me! That place in Sector Two, man! You and me, crackin' every lock east of the pillar!"

No. No, no, no, it couldn't be–

"It's Bennie! You remember me, yeah? Your pal! Rennie and Bennie! Yeah, you remember me! You remember your old pal, I can see it. Rennie and Bennie, pals forever, man! Fuckin' yeah! I knew you'd come back, man! I fuckin' knew it!"

The name buzzed in Reno's ears until he felt lightheaded. Bennie. Big goddamned Bennie, only he wasn't so big anymore. Bony Bennie, that's what he was now. Nothing but papery skin sagging from his bones. He only had a few years on Reno, but now Bennie looked twice his age. No, worse than that. The guy looked like a fucking corpse.

"Yeah, I remember," Reno said, struggling to keep his voice even. "I remember ditchin' your sorry ass when ya started gettin' too fuckin' jacked to handle jobs anymore."

He should have been watching Bennie's face, but instead he stared at the red and purple spots on the guy's arms, numerous enough to form trails across his pasty skin.

"Hey, I ain't gonna hold it against ya," Bennie prattled on. "It's all bygones, yeah? Bygones, man. I mean, look at ya! A Turk, man! Fuckin' Turk! Just look at ya. Look at that damn suit! That's a damn fine suit, man."

The buzzing in Reno's ears had moved inside his skull, making it impossible to think. No matter how hard he tried to focus, he couldn't keep his eyes from trailing down Bennie's track marks. The guy had only been popping pills a couple of years ago. A lot of pills, sure, but just pills.

"Real damn fine. Such a fine goddamn suit. Hey Rennie, can I touch it? Always wondered what it–"

Bennie moved his arm to reach out, and Reno came crashing back into the present. He slapped the hand away and yanked the gun up to point straight into Bennie's hollow face.

"Name's Reno, fuckhead," he growled. "Still haven't learned even that much, have ya? Fuckin' tweaker."

Bennie's eyes darkened as they darted back and forth between the muzzle and Reno's face.

"Hey, man, what's with the fuckin' attitude, huh? Huh? Think you're so much better than me, Mister I'm-in-a-fuckin'-suit-now?" His gaze flicked this way and that over Reno's body. "Fine suit," he mumbled to himself. "Real fine suit. Such a–"

"Look at yourself, man!" Reno's voice broke, but he couldn't stop himself anymore. "Take a long hard look in a fuckin' mirror, Bennie! You even got any goddamn teeth left?"

"Ohhh, I get it. I get it now. You think you're so goddamn special 'cause ya got clean, huh? Ol' slum buddies ain't good enough for ya no more, now that you've ganged up with the goddamn Turks, huh? The fuckin' Turks, man!"

"Shut up, Bennie!" Reno hollered. "Just shut the hell up!"

"Answer me, ya backstabbin' son of a bitch! You sellin' us out just so ya can hang with the fuckin' Turks, huh? With your fuckin' suit and your shiny fuckin' teeth?"

Reno's hands were shaking again, but this time it was his muscles locked tight with rage. He glared down the barrel of the gun, teeth bared and nostrils flaring.

"Yeah, I'm with the fuckin' Turks! So fuckin' what? Least I got out! I got out! Instead of wastin' my miserable shitty life down here gettin' high with fuckups like you!"

Hatred flooded Bennie's face, twisting what was left into a ravaged sneer.

"You ain't him," Bennie spat. "You're just wearin' his face, but you ain't him." He moaned and his eyes went wide. "Fuck, man! The fuckin' Hollows! That's when it happened, ain't it?"

"The hell are ya on about, man?" Reno yelled, trying to ignore the nauseating lurch in his gut. "You ain't makin' any goddamn sense!"

"You ain't him! You fuckin' suits took him when he went psycho in the Hollows! That's why he changed, that's why he left me! You took my best friend took his face took his place..."

The words tumbled over each other out of the ruin of his mouth. His trembling fingers wove a jerky dance through the air, and he stared at Reno with pupils so huge and wild his eyes looked almost black. The alarm bells ringing in Reno's head had blunted his fury now, brought him down far enough that he could recognize the signs. Oh, fuck. If Bennie was on the same shit he'd given Reno that time–

The Hollows, Rennie.

Reno tried to push that train of thought right off the rails – but the images, the memories, kept coming. He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, forced himself to stare into those freaky black eyes, because if he looked away for even a second, the guy might do what he had–

No! Shut up, shut up, shut up!

"You ain't never gettin' outta the slums," Bennie ground out through the clenched stubs of his teeth. "It don't matter how fancy your fuckin' suit is. You killed my buddy. You took his fuckin' face! You ain't gettin' outta here with that face. Ya hear me? You ain't never gettin' outta here."

Bennie coiled as he taunted him, shifting his weight. The trigger felt slippery under Reno's finger, and his chest was so tight his ribs might crack with the next breath. Not Bennie. Not this messed up son of a bitch, who had once been the only one Reno allowed himself to count on. Anyone but Big Bennie.

"Don't do this to me, man." Reno didn't recognize the voice, but it had to be his own, because the words were croaking their way out of his throat, crawling over a tongue that felt too big for his mouth. "Fuck's sake, Bennie, just stay down. Don't fuckin' do this!"

Bennie stretched his lips in a rotting mockery of a smile. Then he lunged.

Chapter Text

Cissnei rolled over in bed, again. She'd stayed outside until the first evening bell, when she'd tottered back to the girls' dorm on feet gone numb. Her cheeks had been numb as well, and she'd listened with a blank face while the supervisor admonished her for staying out in the cold so long.

She hadn't said a word to Shalua. Fortunately, the girl had kept her mouth shut, too.

The hands of the alarm clock glowed fluorescent green in the darkness, pointing at half past eleven. Reno had to be back by now. His room had still been empty when she'd passed his window on her way to the dorm, but it was past curfew now. He had to be back.

Cissnei didn't bother to be quiet as she got dressed and slipped out of the window. Her nosy traitor of a roommate was probably awake anyway, spying on her.

Only a few faint exit lights illuminated the yard, but the powdery white blanket made it easy to navigate. The snow was old, so her footsteps mingled with dozens of others. One less thing to worry about. Cissnei stuck close to the walls and jogged as fast as she could through the clumpy drifts of snow, ignoring the sting of freezing air as it scoured her lungs.

The ceiling lamp in Reno's room was still dark, but a faint glow spilled out of his window from some other source. It was a bathroom light, she realized once she got up on her toes and peeked inside. A private room with a private bathroom. At another time, she might have been jealous.

Reno was in the bathroom, dressed in a white t-shirt and blue pajama pants. He had his back turned to her and appeared to be washing his hands. Cissnei waited, and waited, but he didn't stop washing them. When the biting cold became too much for her cheeks, she gave up and knocked on the window.

It took three tries before he looked up. A fourth to make him turn around. Reno didn't seem surprised to see her. He just watched her for a few seconds, before he lumbered over to the window and slid it open.

"You shouldn't be here," he said. "You'll get in trouble."

No greeting. No grin, or even a smile. Just that hollow voice. The chill that spread inside her had nothing to do with the weather.

"I just want to talk to you."

"It ain't a good time."

"Just a little while. I won't stay long, I promise."

He just stared at her, a slight frown on his face.

"Please," she said, rubbing her hands together. "It's really cold out here."

Reno sighed, and reached out to help her climb in. Just like her room, it required scrambling over a desk.

Cissnei took a look around as she unbuttoned her coat. His room was almost a perfect square, with one corner walled off for the bathroom. His bed jutted out from the right-hand wall like a divider, leaving a few feet of floor space on the window side. She could make out the black silhouette of his Turk uniform hanging on the door to his room in the far back. The messy pile of clothes by the foot of his bed must have been his school uniform.

"Sorry," he said. "Gotta wash my hands."

Cissnei removed her boots, too, and tucked them under his desk. When she was done, Reno was still in the bathroom. She poked her head in for a look. Both a toilet and a shower were squeezed into the tiny space. Reno stood by the sink, scrubbing his hands. The skin was red, rubbed raw in places, yet he reached for more soap.

Cissnei reached up her hand to stop him, but he yanked his arm away before she got even close.

"I think your hands are clean enough," she said softly, and reached around him to turn off the water instead.

"They don't feel clean," he muttered.

"Well, they're going to feel really, really sore at the rate you're going. Come on. Come sit with me."

Cissnei sat down on the bed and patted the checkered duvet. With dull motions, he followed her lead.

"Did something happen?" she asked. "During the mission?"

Reno sat staring at his hands, the skin red against the blue flannel of his pajama pants. She didn't rush him.

"Tseng gave me his gun. He said if the guy made a single move, I would shoot." He paused and swallowed a few times. "The guy moved."

Cissnei bit her tongue before the first question that came to mind – are you okay? – rolled off it. The answer was obvious.

"Were you injured?"

"Nah. Blew his brains out before he got close. Got some on me." The reddened fingers of his right hand twitched. "He said I wasn't me. Maybe he was right. I wouldn't have killed him. I'd never have killed him, but... I did."

He spoke without inflection, staring straight ahead. Empty, Cissnei thought. His voice, his eyes, his everything – it was all empty. Was this what her aunt had seen every time she looked at Cissnei?

She had never quite understood what went on in Aunt Esme's head, but she did know what her father would have said.

"You did what you had to do," she said in his stead. "It's us or them."

Reno's admission hadn't shocked her. She wasn't even surprised. The Turks had discussed weapon training on several occasions. Guns and blades. These were necessary skills for the position, and a soldier's daughter knew what the use of weapons entailed.

So did Reno – she was sure of it – yet he was shaking his head.

"You don't get it, Ciss. It used to be me and him against everyone else. He wasn't 'them' back then. He was us. Him and me, we were us. And now..." He trailed off as his breathing grew more and more ragged, and when he spoke again, his voice wavered. "It could've been me, Ciss. That guy, he could've been me."

"But he wasn't. Whatever he was before, he was one of them now. You're not."

"What the hell am I then, huh? I ain't what I was. I ain't me anymore!"

"You're one of... us. You're a Turk."

"No, you're wrong! I ain't a Turk, not yet! I'm nothin'. And if I don't make it, and they dump me back down there, that guy's gonna be me. What if I fuck up and don't make it? I can't go back there, Ciss! I can't go back!"

She moved on instinct, reaching for his shoulder, but caught herself when he shrank away.

"You won't go back," she said firmly, returning her hand to her lap. "You're here now, and you'll make it."

"You don't know that," he whispered. "You can't know that."

He was right, of course. She may have believed it, but repeating a belief wouldn't help him, not when he was like this. Cissnei frowned, looking away, and noticed a glass on the bedside table.

"I'll get you some water."

Reno nodded, but he was staring at his hands again. She got the feeling he wasn't really listening anymore. He accepted the glass of water she brought it back to him, though, and even swallowed a few mouthfuls.

His fingers were trembling when she took the glass from him. She watched as he let his hand fall back into his lap, and noticed that both of them were trembling now.

"Maybe you should lie down. Get some rest."

Reno obeyed without a word. With the stilted motions of a robot, he slowly curled up on his side and pulled his knees up to his chest. Cissnei placed the glass on the bedside table, then headed over to his desk for her coat and boots. She paused, though, and watched his face. His eyes were open, but he didn't seem to be looking at her, or anything else.

It was time to go back. It was smart to go back, now, unnoticed. Yet as Cissnei watched Reno's face, she found she couldn't leave him alone like this. With a sigh, she returned to his bed and sat down behind him.

"Can I touch you? Your hair?"

He didn't react at first, and she wondered if he had heard her at all. Then he nodded, once.

Cissnei let her fingertips skim the very ends of his hair at first; a touch so light it was barely enough to bend the red spikes. She held her breath, watching him, and when he remained still she gently smoothed his hair against his head. It wouldn't stay down, of course, but she kept doing it in a slow rhythm.

Reno shuddered, and she heard a muffled gasp for air. She kept petting his hair. A minute later, it happened again, and she recognized the sound. The last time she'd heard it, she'd been the one making it.

"Can I come closer?" Cissnei whispered. "Close enough to touch?"

He made some broken noise, and then he nodded again. Slowly, carefully, she lay down behind him and scooted closer until the tip of her nose brushed his t-shirt. She placed her palm on his arm and stroked up and down, again and again. He pressed it into his side so tightly it trembled, but he didn't pull away from her or make a sound.

She stroked him until he stopped shivering, and kept going until her arm got tired. Then she just let it rest on top of his, with her hand on his shoulder. His breathing had calmed, and the steady rise and fall of his chest was soothing.

Cissnei closed her eyes, and at last, she let herself soak up his presence for her own comfort.

Cissnei jerked awake when the body in her arms jolted and went stiff. The room was dim, painted in nothing but grays, and it took a moment for her to recognize where she was.

"Reno?"

She pushed herself up on one arm for a better look. His face was scrunched up tight as if in pain, half-covered by his sticky hair. His t-shirt was damp. He yelped and flinched again.

"Reno, wake up."

She gave his arm a careful tug. His skin was cool and slick with sweat, and he was whimpering. She shook him again, harder.

"Wake up!"

His eyes flew open. With a shrill cry he lashed out, flinging his elbow into her shoulder, and knocked her over on her back. Instinctively, she kept rolling away until she fell off the bed. She heard the sound of shattering glass, followed by a thump that shook the floorboards beneath her. Dazed, she fumbled onto her knees and looked across the bed. Reno stood pressed into the wall on the other side, panting as his head whipped back and forth. His fingers clawed at the wall, smearing the red drops that trickled down from his right arm.

"Reno!"

He froze. He blinked several times, then looked around with a frown on his face. When he spotted her, his eyes went wide with fear.

"Ciss...?"

A loud banging on the door made them both jump.

"What's going on?" a male voice barked. "Open up!"

"Shit," Reno breathed. "Y-you have to–"

The door unlocked with a sharp click and swung open, pinning him in a rectangle of light from the hallway. Cissnei looked around to see a bulky man in a blue school sweater in the doorway. A look of shock spread across his face as he took in the scene. Then he clenched his jaw and set his features in a fierce glower.

"Miss, get out of there."

"No! Reno needs–"

"Come with me. Now!"

"Do as he says, Ciss," Reno said quietly.

There was no gray anymore. Everything was a whirling, chaotic black, and the only spot of color was Reno, glowing bright in red and white. She took off toward him.

"Miss!"

A pair of hands caught her by her arms. She thrashed and yelled, her training gone from her mind, but the man's grip was a vice. He dragged her backwards and jostled her out of the room, then paused in the doorway.

"You," he growled, pointing at Reno. "Stay here!"

Reno didn't reply, just slumped with his head hung low, bleeding over the wall. Cissnei caught his gaze one more time. He looked so frightened.

The burly man slammed the door shut and hauled her away.

Reno looked up when the door opened. Veld entered his room, followed by Tseng. As they stepped closer, the redhead flung himself off the bed.

"How's Ciss? She's okay, right? These fuckers won't tell me anythin'!"

His gaze flicked from one Turk to the other as the two exchanged a glance. Their somber faces didn't tell him anything, either. What was wrong with all these topside bastards? Why couldn't they just answer a simple goddamned question?

"Cissnei is fine," Tseng finally said. "She's suspended for a couple of days and confined to her dorm. That's all."

With a deep sigh of relief, Reno slumped back down on the bed and hid his face in his hands.

"Reno," Veld said, his tone firm. "Report."

Reno dropped his hands into his lap and stared at his feet. His memories were hazy. The school nurse had showed up to heal the cut on his arm, he knew that much. The guy may as well have slipped him roofies; the Cure had knocked him out for the better part of the morning. Someone had cleaned up the broken glass while he was out, but his blood was still streaked down the wall. He'd changed out of his sleepwear, but when he'd tried to leave, his door had been locked.

He'd freaked. He'd banged on the door, yelling, until the dorm supervisor had shown up and told him to keep it down. Reno had asked about Cissnei. The asshole had refused to answer. Reno had asked again, louder, peppering his request with choice obscenities. The guy had slammed the door in his face. Moments later, Reno had discovered they'd nailed his window shut.

All this Reno told the two Turks.

"You left out a rather critical part," Tseng said. "Why was she in your room?"

Reno hesitated. What was he supposed to tell them? That she'd stayed because he'd lost it over a job? That he was such lousy Turk material that he couldn't even handle a fucking training mission?

The memory of a smile filled with rotten teeth sent his stomach into a queasy churn.

"She wanted to talk," he mumbled, absently rubbing his hands on his pants.

"Talk," Tseng repeated.

His disbelief was obvious. No wonder. They both knew too much of Reno's past.

"Yeah," Reno said, and gave a halfhearted shrug.

"What did you talk about?"

It was Veld this time. How long would they keep the questions coming? Why couldn't they just let it be? Reno felt exhausted, yet his heart was racing.

"The mission."

His voice broke. Behemoth's balls, his voice broke. Reno wanted to sink through the bed, but all he could do was stare at his hands while his cheeks burned hot.

"We have a meeting with the principal," Veld said at last. "Come with us."

The school grounds were full of people on their lunch break. Many of them stopped to watch. Some of them pointed and whispered. Reno forced a smirk onto his face and a swagger into his walk. He knew the school policy, but the Turks bent rules all the time. They would bend them now. That's what he told himself, again and again, to keep his head high.

At the principal's office, Reno was ordered to sit in a chair while the Turks flanked him, then had to listen while Principal Hart scowled his way through some pompous speech speckled with fancy words like "reputation", "disgrace" and "fraternization". Reno didn't know that last one, but the way it had wriggled out of his mouth had made its meaning clear.

The Turks hadn't said a word beyond their greetings. Why did they make him sit here and listen to this windbag who didn't have the first clue what he was talking about?

"The girl is fourteen years old," the old man said. "I'm sure you understand the severity of the situation."

"It ain't like that! We didn't do anythin'!"

Reno knew he was supposed to just listen and nod politely, but he'd reached the limits of his patience. The principal's scowl deepened.

"The girl was in your room after lights out," he barked. "This is a clear violation of our code of conduct. The decision has already been made."

"You don't care, huh? You just want rid of me. You never wanted me here!"

Reno was rising from his seat, but Tseng's firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back down.

The Turks still hadn't said a thing. Not a single goddamned thing. They were the ones listening and nodding. He'd been wrong. They weren't going to bend any more rules for him.

The decision was already made, like the windbag had said. This was it. They'd failed him.

He had failed them.

It was so fucking unfair. He had tried so hard. He had tried so damned hard, and now it was all going down the drain, all because of something he hadn't even done!

The pressure on his chest made him breathe in sharp huffs, and his heart was hammering like he'd just raced ten laps on the track. Closing his eyes, he began to count.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

"Rules are rules, Mr. Reno. As of today, you are expelled for improper conduct, and banned from the school grounds until further notice."

Reno stopped counting. Veld said something, and the principal replied, but Reno wasn't listening either. He just stared at the floor, feeling the tightness in his chest grow and grow until it spread all the way to his throat and began burning behind his eyelids. He didn't look up when Tseng touched his shoulder again. He didn't even flinch. He just dragged himself to his feet and stumbled out of the office.

Chapter Text

Cissnei's suspension – and house arrest – was over. She rushed to Geography class first thing in the morning, but Reno's seat was empty. Shalua had told her he'd been expelled, but Cissnei had snapped at her, called her a liar and worse. They hadn't spoken after that. She had waited for this morning, had hoped she would arrive in class to find that everything was okay – but his desk was empty, and Trinny was glaring daggers at her.

Most people didn't stare, though. They kept their eyes carefully aimed elsewhere, or averted them as soon as they saw her looking – but Cissnei felt them burn holes in the back of her head the moment she turned away. Whenever she passed a group, she heard the whispers and titters in her wake. She was no longer the observer, anonymous and easily overlooked. She was very much the observed.

Was this what it had been like for Reno when he first arrived?

Cissnei desperately hoped Reno would show up for her weekly training session with the Turks, but it was in vain. The Turk trainer wasn't Tseng or Balto either, but a woman she'd never seen before, who claimed she had just returned to Midgar from a mission and knew nothing about Reno.

Cissnei dragged her feet on her way back to the dorm. What was waiting for her there? An evening trapped with Shalua, who was still at the top of her shit list. A night alone in her bed, without the hope of a surprise visit from Reno. Her camera was in her bag, but the thought of taking it out for a circuit of the grounds was even worse. All the good spots were haunted by the memories she shared with him.

The dorm supervisor gave her the evil eye as she came in. Cissnei kept her eyes fixed firmly on her feet as she passed the student lounge. She'd had enough ogling for one lifetime already.

She'd just turned into the hallway leading to her room, when a girl's voice rang out behind her.

"Hey, hold up a sec!"

She spun around, more out of reluctance to leave her back unguarded than any desire to speak to the girl who approached her. She was a couple of years older than Cissnei. Her straight brown hair was cut into a bob and her smile revealed a small gap between her front teeth.

"Hi," she began. "Um. Me and a few other girls are having a movie night in the living room. We were wondering if you'd like to come watch with us?"

A trick of some sort? A way to lure her out in public for some sort of prank?

"What are you watching?"

"It's called 'A Night in Costa', and... that's all I know about it, really." The girl laughed. "It was Cyra's turn to pick the movie. She always goes for the rom-coms. She brought candy, though. We're making popcorn, too."

She couldn't pick up on any duplicity. The girl was either an excellent liar, or genuinely friendly. Cissnei was still cautious, but her curiosity won out.

"Sure... Sounds fun."

"Great! I'm Ellie, by the way," she added as they headed back toward the living room. "Ellie Winter."

She knew that name; it was the girl Shalua had caught kissing Troy Domino. Her wariness returned, but it was too late to leave without making it weird.

"I'm Cissnei."

Ellie looked at her in blank confusion; only then did she realize her chosen name had slipped out. Her Turk name, not the name her teachers knew her by. For a second she panicked. Then it passed. The little Junon girl who had lived with her parents in a safe, warm family home was gone. She'd been gone a long time, and only her ghost had lived on in the name her parents had given her.

Cissnei was too old to believe in ghosts.

"Call me Cissnei," she said. "I prefer that."

The first floor lounge was about four times the size of her room. Two beige couches formed a triangle with the TV in the middle of the room, and two small tables with chairs were placed on either side of the ensemble. A countertop jutted out from the wall in the farthest corner, forming a small kitchenette. That's where the rest of the girls were waiting.

All of them were a year or two older than Cissnei. Cyra was the tallest, with brown skin and black hair that flowed in a cascade of curls all the way down to her waist.

"So... Are you a Red Leather girl?" she wondered while Ellie busied herself with the microwave.

Cissnei gave her a blank look.

"Excuse me?"

"The Genesis fan club," Ellie explained, rolling her eyes. "She's convinced you're a member, since you have a thing for redheads."

"Ellie's Silver Elite," Cyra added, "and these two are Keepers of Honor."

The blonde twins, Sybil and Sabra, nodded with identical grins on their round faces. Cissnei had already lost track of who was who.

"You're all members of... SOLDIER fan clubs?" Her question was punctuated by the ding of the microwave.

"Yup!" Ellie called, pulling out the popped bag of corn. "First Class at First High! Ow, hot, hot, hot..."

Smells like roasted bug, Cissnei thought and smiled, though her smile didn't feel quite right.

"There's not that many of us club members here at First High," said one of the twins while Ellie juggled the bag over to a large bowl, "so we all hang out here. Fangirls gotta stick together, right?"

"So, are you a fan?" Cyra asked again.

"Um... I'm not a member or anything."

The girl's hopeful expression dropped into a pout.

"Aw, darn."

"I told you, she's got her own redhead to swoon over," a twin quipped.

The others giggled. Cissnei offered a faint smile.

"Yeah, you two make quite the dream team," Ellie said, grinning as she set down a bowl of popcorn on the counter. "I heard about you and Troy Domino in the café. Serves him right, the lying jerk. He promised me he'd leave that blonde bitch, you know."

Cissnei let herself relax a bit. Things were beginning to fit together.

"He's a jerk, all right," Cissnei said, reaching for a handful from the bowl like the others.

"The worst," the brunette scoffed. "Good riddance."

"It's true then, isn't it?" asked one of the twins. "You and that red-haired boy, Reno?"

At least it wasn't Reno the Rat, or "that slum boy". Friendly or not, Cissnei had guessed they would start snooping sooner or later. Why else would they take such a sudden interest in her?

"What about us?"

"That you're, you know..." The girl lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "Doing it."

The girls tittered and gave a few mock-admonishing hisses of "Sabra!", but they were all sending her curious glances, dying to hear her answer.

She could deny it until her face turned blue, and still they would never believe her. As long as she stayed at First Sector High, she'd be the girl who got caught sleeping with an older boy. Cissnei saw only one way to spin this to her advantage, and this was her chance.

"No!" she exclaimed, faking indignation, then gave a shy smile. "We're waiting."

"Gods," Ellie huffed, "don't tell me you're one of those wait-for-marriage types."

"No," she said with a giggle. "He wants me to be sure it's what I want, that's all."

"But... you did spend the night with him, right?" Sybil asked.

Cissnei found herself fixed by four pairs of rapt eyes, their owners waiting with bated breaths. She combed her memory for the gossip that had gotten the most squeals at the girls' home, and called up the sappiest bits she'd read in books and seen in movies. Then she cleared her throat, and wove a romantic tale of innocent, misunderstood love. Maybe her audience didn't quite believe her, but that didn't matter. It was the story they wanted to hear.

"Have you heard?" Cyra asked. "All the Firsts are arriving in Midgar next week. They're testing out a new version of the virtual training system."

The five of them were squeezed around a tiny table with their skimmed milk lattes. Cissnei would have preferred tea and a slice of brownie, but cake was frowned upon. Skimmed milk lattes were the group's token lunch replacement. The ideal would have been a skimmed milk chai latte, but that wasn't on the school café's menu.

"How do you know all this?" she asked, stirring her far-too-sweet latte.

"Her mom is some tech wizard at Shinra," Ellie said, wriggling her fingers in the air, "so they've got a computer at home."

"Two, actually," Cyra corrected with a smug smile. "I check the newsgroups and newsletters every weekend."

Cissnei's spoon turned slower as an idea began to form in her head, until she stopped stirring altogether.

"So they're going to be in Midgar? At Shinra HQ?"

"Red Leather says the Firsts will be at HQ the weekend after this. They've got someone on the inside, so they know these things."

Cyra's smile was a knowing one now, but no less smug. It always made Cissnei think of Reno. She hadn't heard a peep about him since he vanished. Rumors among the students, sure, but no actual facts. If she wanted to know what had happened to him, she would have to go looking.

"Here's a crazy idea," she said slowly. "How about we all go there, that weekend?"

The quiet clink of spoons ceased as four pairs of eyes locked on Cissnei.

"The five of us?" Sybil asked. "To HQ?"

"We won't see anything," Ellie said. "SOLDIERs don't come down to the tourist floors."

"What if the fan clubs arrange something? Like... a tour, maybe?" Cissnei turned to Cyra. "You said you have someone on the inside."

The girl frowned and glanced across at the others. So did Cissnei. Ellie had a different kind of frown on her face. One twin looked excited, the other dubious.

"This is a Shinra school, right?" Cissnei pressed on. "Maybe we can use that too. See if they'd be willing to organize a field trip."

"You're right," Cyra said. "It is crazy."

"Yeah." Ellie broke into a grin. "I like it."

Cyra looked at each of them in turn, disbelief plain on her face.

"Guys, come on. Seriously?"

"Can you even remember the last time all three of them were in Midgar?" Ellie asked. "We have both the place and the time. It's the best chance we've had for months. Let's do this!"

Relieved, Cissnei gave her a smile. Ellie made things happen. If she wanted to be at HQ on that weekend, then that's where they would be. She'd make sure the fangirls got their chance – and Cissnei would get hers.

The bus parked up right outside the main entrance of Shinra HQ. A herd of excited teenagers spilled out of the vehicle, all of them dressed in First Sector High uniforms. Cissnei was one of them.

The noise was one a whole different level and the sharp tang of Mako in the air was stronger than at the high school; it mingled with the traffic fumes drifting in from the surrounding sectors to make a smoky fog that left her tongue feeling furry. Cissnei craned her neck back as far as possible, but couldn't see the top of the Shinra building. The massive tower of concrete and gold rose up from the core of Midgar and left the rest of the city in its shadow.

Cissnei hadn't realized how huge it was. The walls of the building followed the circular outline of Sector 0 as far as she could see. Shinra HQ was Sector 0. A city within a city. How would she ever find Reno in there?

The lobby was enormous and very gray. Gray floors, gray walls and doors; all decorated with geometric lines and shapes in lighter and darker gray. A sign at the back wall, bathed in bright light, displayed the company name next to Shinra's red diamond logo. On either side, twin staircases lined with blue carpet led up to the second floor. Underneath it was the reception desk, where Mr. Nesbitt gathered them all.

A bubbly woman with platinum blonde hair served as their tour guide. In her introductory speech, she made multiple hints to some "secret surprise" at the end of the tour. Ellie and the others were already engrossed in whispered speculation, but Cissnei had no desire to join in. If all went to plan, she would miss it.

"Shinra HQ has over seventy floors," the guide chirped, pointing to a poster with a diagram of the building. "We shall see quite a few of them today. The first three floors are open to all visitors..."

A frown formed on Cissnei's face as she studied the map. The top twelve floors were marked as "administration", the next ten were for "public safety", and so on. Did the Department of Administrative Research belong to administration or research?

Asking the guide would draw too much attention to herself. She had to find another way.

The guide moved on at last, leading them into an exhibition room. While she introduced each of the Shinra vehicle designs on display, Cissnei kept an eye on the two elevators at the back. They opened and closed a few times, but it was impossible to sneak away unnoticed.

Their next stop was the seventh floor. Only half the group could fit into the elevator at once, so the rest had to wait below for their turn. Cissnei paid careful attention to their surroundings as they exited the elevator and headed on to the uniform gallery. She barely paid any attention to the outfit designs for the Firsts, but Cyra went ecstatic over prototypes of the red jacket that one of them wore.

"You go on ahead," Cissnei said to Ellie and the twins, who were eager to see the next part of the tour. "I'll wait for Cyra."

"I'll head on up with the others," she told Cyra as the first half of the group was filtering out of the room. The girl hummed and waved, keeping her eyes glued to the coats as Cissnei left.

Cissnei trailed after the group, until they came to the first crossing in the corridor. Where they continued straight ahead, she ducked right and dashed down the hallway until she reached another crossing. Once she was sure she was out of view, she leaned back against the wall and waited for her pulse to slow down. A few minutes later she heard the second group head past for the elevator. Then, the floor went quiet.

Cissnei had decided to start with the "administration" floors. Once she was sure the second group was gone, she snuck back to the elevators. One of them dinged open a few seconds after she pressed the call button, but when she hit number fifty-nine inside, a red light winked on the panel and the elevator stayed still.

Plan B, then. She'd seen stairs on the first floor. There had to be more somewhere. Cissnei headed back along the corridor. Fortunately, the floor seemed to be deserted. It seemed Shinra's designers didn't work on Saturdays.

The corridors were as gray as the lobby. Gray walls and floors everywhere, streaked with patterns in more shades of gray. Was this where she would spend her life after graduation? Swallowed up by a grayness as stifling as her own? Cissnei pictured Reno's red hair and his blue eyes, his white shirt and his black suit, flooding these corridors with color. She hurried her steps.

She found a door with an exit sign, but it was locked. Unlike the elevator, this was a physical lock. Cissnei dropped to one knee for a closer peek. It looked the same type as the locks at First Sector High... but she was no expert. Reno was. He'd explained to her how pin tumbler locks worked, though, and had helped her pick the swimming pool door once. If she could find something to use as picks, she could give this one a go. Hair pins were probably too much to hope for, but there might be paper clips–

"Are you lost?"

Cissnei shot to her feet and spun around all at once, nearly toppling over in the process. A chubby man was watching her with narrowed eyes, and rested one of his hands on the hilt of the baton dangling from his belt. She spotted a radio, too.

She almost panicked. Almost – but then it occurred to her Shinra security would know how to reach the Turks. She didn't need to know how to picks locks or pockets, as long as she had a person and a role to play.

Cissnei adopted a cool that wasn't her own, and clasped her hands behind her back like she had seen Tseng do so many times.

"I'm looking for the Department of Administrative Research," she said.

"Only floors one to three are open to visitors without an appointment." He took a step toward the elevator and motioned for her to follow. "Come with me. I'll take you to the lobby."

Cissnei lifted her chin a bit higher.

"I'm not a visitor. I'm here on Turk business."

The guard snorted.

"Funny. Now come on. The exit's this way."

He reached for her arm, but Cissnei took a quick step back.

"I'm serious!" she snapped. "I'm a candidate in their training program."

The guard paused to look her over. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her uniform.

"Hang on. Aren't you one of those high school kids from Sector One?"

A guard might expect a teenager to know a few department names. He might expect her to have heard about "Turks". Would he expect her to be able to drop names, though?

"Check with agents Tseng or Balto," she said. "I need to talk to one of them."

The name of her current supervisor wouldn't help. The woman had claimed that Cissnei was the only candidate she was assigned to, and that she hadn't seen Tseng or Balto recently. She was also thoroughly uninterested in asking around on Cissnei's behalf.

The guard gave her another long look.

"Tseng, huh?"

"Yes. He's one of my supervisors."

With a sigh, the man reached for the radio on his belt.

"What's your name?"

"They know me as Cissnei."

"'They know me as'...," he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he raised his radio. "Control, this is Grady. I've got a little girl on the seventh floor who wants to talk to a Turk."

"Did you say Turk?" asked a female voice over the radio.

"Yeah. She says she's a... 'candidate' of theirs. Calls herself Siss-Nay."

"If she was a Turk, she wouldn't need us to talk to them. Show her to the exit."

"Thing is, she asked for Tseng by name. Mentioned some other guy, too."

The line went silent for a while.

"Just how 'little' is this girl?"

"Too young to be one of 'em, if you ask me. She can't be more than fifteen." He glanced at her and shook his head again. "Seriously, this is a bit too weird for my pay grade. Call the Turks, will you? Let them sort it out."

"Yeah, okay. Stand by."

The wait couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes, but it felt like ten. It was a relief to hear the radio crackle to life again, doubly so when the lady on the other end said a Turk was on the way. Cissnei stuck to her Turk role, though, and let none of it show on her face.

The guard brought her into an empty meeting room by the elevators and closed the door behind them.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he sighed as he leaned back against the wall next to the door. "Can't help thinking you would've been better off if I'd just–"

The door flew open, startling them both. In the doorway stood a woman in a Turk suit. Her hair was lighter than Cissnei's, but a bit too dark for blonde. There was a lot of it; most of it was tied into a ponytail high up on her head, while the rest fell around in a messy fringe. She smiled at the security guard as she strode into the room.

"Okay, off you go."

The guard gave her a sour look, but left without a word. Once the door closed behind him, the woman faced Cissnei.

"Hi there," she said. "Heard you're looking for a Turk."

"Yes," Cissnei said hesitantly. "I was hoping to talk to Tseng or Balto."

"Sorry, I'm the only one manning the office today. Weekend and all, you know." The woman thrust her hand forward. "Freyra."

"Cissnei," she offered as the woman jostled her in a vigorous handshake.

Freyra placed her fists on her hips and looked her over. A faint smile still lingered on her lips.

"So, want to tell me why you were trying to sneak into Shinra HQ?"

"I wasn't trying to sneak in." Cissnei felt her cheeks heat up when the smile on the woman's face widened. "I'm looking for another candidate," she added quickly. "His name is Reno."

"Never heard of him," Freyra said with a shrug. "Then again, I've never heard of Turk 'candidates' before either. I had no idea we even had a training program."

"You joined without training?" Cissnei hadn't realized that was possible.

"That's right. Guess I'm just that good." She flashed a grin, and Cissnei thought of Reno. "The others still call me the rookie, but I've never been a 'candidate'."

"Oh." Cissnei had no idea how to react to that. "Well, we started the training program at the same time, but a month ago he... There was an incident."

Freyra arched an eyebrow. "An 'incident'?"

"He was expelled," Cissnei said, hoping the woman would be satisfied with the short version. "I haven't seen him since. I just want to know what happened to him."

"Expelled, huh?" Her raspy laughter made Cissnei's throat itch. Once she stopped, she took a few moments to size Cissnei up. "You know what? It's been a slow day and I'm curious about this troublemaker of yours. Let's check the records."

To Cissnei's disappointment, that didn't involve a visit to the Turks' department. A few doors down the corridor was a small office with two desks. A stubby computer was perched on one of them. The Turk pointed her to a chair in front of the other. Cissnei stopped next to it, but didn't sit down.

"Okay, let's see," Freyra mumbled to herself as she thwacked down keys with her index fingers. "How did this work again..." She was silent a while, then smiled. "A-ha!"

"What? What does that mean?"

"It means I found the candidate list. Luckily you're on it, so that means I don't have to kill you." She glanced up with a quick grin. "Unluckily, you're also the onlyone on it."

Cissnei gave her a blank stare. Then she dashed around and bent over the desk, craning her neck to see the screen.

"Hey, no peeking!"

Freyra grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back in front of the desk. Cissnei barely noticed. She'd already seen the list, glowing white against a dark blue background.

Candidates:
Cissnei
Total: 1

She wet her lips, trying to keep her breathing under control, trying to think.

"Maybe... maybe he's a Turk now?"

Her voice sounded strange in her ears. The look Freyra was giving her was odd, too.

"I'll check," the woman finally said, "but only if you stay on that side of the screen. This stuff is classified, you know."

She returned to the keyboard and punched down keys as if they were miniature enemies of Shinra.

"Okay, this looks like the right screen." She glanced up. "Reno, right? R, e, n, o?"

Cissnei nodded. Freyra muttered the letters again as she jabbed them into the system, then hit the enter key.

"Sorry," she said after a few seconds. "No Reno on the roster either."

The woman said it in her usual cheery lilt, but she may as well have punched the air out of Cissnei's lungs.

"Can I see?" she whispered.

Freyra frowned.

"Please," Cissnei added before she could protest.

The Turk huffed, but nodded and stepped aside.

"Just don't touch anything."

The screen showed only two lines this time.

Search, active agents: Reno
No results

Cissnei's thoughts scattered on the wind. She had no more ideas. All she had left in her head was a single word that swelled and swelled until it thumped against her skull in time with her heart.

Gone.

Chapter Text

Cissnei glanced at the clock on the café wall: quarter to three. She grabbed her bag and got up.

"I'll be back in a bit," she told the chattering girls at the table.

"You're not sneaking away from your own birthday party, are you?" Ellie teased.

Once the others had found her in the Shinra lobby after the tour, she'd had a lot of explaining to do – especially as their concern had been tinged with annoyance for making them worry on such an important day. But they had believed her excuse of getting lost in the endless gray corridors; now she just had to live with the teasing.

"No," Cissnei replied with a snort. "Just have to get something from the camera shop before it closes. I'll be back soon."

She slunk out of the teen-flocked café, then weaved her way through the throngs of people in the mall's corridors until she reached her target. The roll of film she'd dropped off the week before was ready.

It was tricky to find any privacy in the mall on a Saturday, but she knew a neglected passage behind a couple of clothing stores and took it on the way back. Halfway down it, Cissnei pulled out the thick envelope she'd picked up. The others were waiting, so she hastened through the photos with a cursory glance at each – until one of them made her freeze to the spot.

It was her. Her face was angled down and to the side, part of it hidden by her wavy hair. She peeked up at the photographer with laughter in her eyes and a coy smile on her lips. She looked happy. She looked real.

Reno had taken the photo, acting like a clown until he'd teased a smile out of her. That had been nearly a month and a half ago. A month and a half, and she still didn't know what had happened to him.

"See? Told ya your eyes are pretty."

Cissnei spun around. Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. She just stood there and stared.

Then Reno opened his arms, and without a second thought she flung herself into them.

"Oof," he said, chuckling as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Miss me, lil' girl?"

She had no words. She pressed her eyes shut and buried her face in his shirt, squeezing him tight. He was warm and thin and real and right there, surrounding her in the scent of spicy aftershave.

"Careful now, I need those ribs," he teased and gently nudged her shoulders. "C'mon, lemme get a look at ya."

She didn't want to let go. She couldn't shake the irrational fear that if she let go he would disappear, like a dream fading with the morning light.

"Ease up, Ciss," he said, his voice soft and bubbling with laughter. "I ain't gonna run off on ya now that I finally got a chance to see ya."

Reluctantly, she loosened her grip and took a step back, then raised her gaze to his face. It really was him. The same blue eyes, the same wild hair, the same grin... His nose and cheeks were pink, though, and up high on his cheekbones–

"Whoa. Are those tattoos?"

"Yeah. You like 'em?"

He pushed his hair back and angled his head from side to side, giving her a better view of the twin crescents that curved from his temples down beneath his eyes. The ink was bright red, and when he let his hair fall back into his face the tattoos blended in with the unruly strands. The marks were an extension of what was already there – just more of him, she thought.

Cissnei nodded. "Can I touch them?"

His eyes widened at first, but then he gave a small smile and bent down a bit.

"Sure. Just... don't poke too hard. Got 'em done in Costa last week and they're still a bit sore."

She traced the tattoo by his left eye with light fingertips, the one that covered his scar. She could still feel it, but the shape was a little different than she remembered. It felt warm, too, and the curve of red ink was surrounded by a pink halo. She lowered her hand, worried her touch might irritate his skin further.

Then Cissnei registered what he'd just said.

"In Costa? As in Costa del Sol?"

"Yeah," Reno said as he straightened up. "Had a mission there with Tseng and another Turk. Recruiting soldiers for almighty Shinra, yo."

He tried to make it sound casual, but she could see the pride in his grin.

"Oh, and the best part? We got to fly there! In a frickin' chopper. And Tseng says I can start takin' flying lessons this summer." He laughed. "I'm gonna be a fuckin' pilot, Ciss! Can you believe it?"

She finally looked him over. His suit was a better fit than the one she'd seen on him on Yuletide Eve, though it still looked rather loose on his lanky body. His shirt hung free under the open jacket, and the customary black tie was missing – but it most definitely was the Turk uniform.

"Wow," she said, smiling at him. "You made it, huh?"

With a low chuckle, Reno slid his hands into his pockets and looked down at himself. He was shaking his head slightly, as if he too had trouble believing his eyes.

"Yeah. Technically I'm still learnin' the ropes, but once I turn eighteen they'll let me join for real."

"I heard you got expelled, but nobody told me anything after that. I tried to look for you at HQ, but you weren't on the candidate list anymore, or the list of Turks. I was so worried that meant you were..."

Gone. She didn't even want to say it.

"Yeah." Reno took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "I was sure I'd fucked up for good. Thought Tseng and Veld would drag me straight to the rim and toss me over the edge... but turned out Tseng felt so bad about–" He paused and swallowed, then gave her a half-hearted smile. "Well, about that mission turnin' to shit. So, they changed the deal. I got bumped up to trainee, so now I gotta finish my trainin' by taggin' along on missions and takin' a bunch of courses in the evenings." He shrugged. "Fine by me, yo."

"Trainee? Son of a bitch!"

"Whoa, who's been teachin' ya language like that?"

He teased, but she was in no mood for jokes.

"You, before you up and disappeared without a word!"

Reno made a face.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Ciss... I honestly thought someone would've told ya what went down. Wanted to tell ya myself, but they never gave me the chance. Veld figured it'd be best to get me outta Midgar for a bit, so I've been in Costa for weeks. When I got back and heard you'd come lookin'... Well, I made sure I got that chance, yo."

"Freyra told you?"

Her question brought the grin back to his face.

"She was itchin' to tell me and Tseng when we got back. Hell, everyone in the department's heard about it by now."

"Really? Guess I made an impression." Her cheeks felt hot all of a sudden.

"You sure did. Ain't every day someone sneaks into HQ, much less a high school kid lookin' for Turks."

Hearing it spoken so plainly gave Cissnei pause, as did the smile that beamed on Reno's face. She had done it, hadn't she? She'd made a plan, she'd set it into motion, and she'd gotten what she was after. A lightness spread in her chest, as if her body was preparing to take flight. She'd succeeded. At the time she'd been too distraught by what she'd learned to think of it like that.

She also took a few moments to deliberate everything else Reno had told her.

"Does all this mean you're free?" she wondered. "Are you living in the city now?"

"Eh, I'm stuck sharin' a place with Tseng 'til they decide I won't make a run for it. Oughta get my own place once I'm eighteen, tho'."

"Wait, you're been living with Tseng for over a month? And you haven't driven him to murder yet?"

"Naw, but he's threatened to make me the mama 'bo for the next batch of rookies," Reno said with a dry chuckle. "Claims that'll serve me right. But hey, if he does go through with it, might be I'm the one lookin' after ya once you join up."

The thought brought a smile to her face.

"I think I can live with that."

"So, what about you?" he asked. "How are ya? Things were kinda shitty when I left."

Cissnei dropped her gaze. The photos were still in her hands, she realized.

"Well," she said, smoothing out the edges of the stack, "everyone thinks you and I... You know."

"Fuck," Reno sighed. "Was afraid of that. Sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. Besides, it's gotten me in with the older girls, so..." She found it hard to look up from the photos. "I've let them believe what they want," she admitted.

"Guess they ain't gonna believe anythin' but the worst, huh."

She glanced up at him. There was a resigned sort of half-smile on his face.

"You're okay with it, then? That you're... well, my boyfriend, sort of."

Reno's eyebrows shot up high beneath his bangs.

"Uh, you sure you wanna say that to people? I'm told I ain't exactly boyfriend material."

"Either I'm the girl who tamed the baddest boy in school, or else I'm the dumb slut who fell for some slum rat's lies. I know which I prefer."

He frowned at first, but then his eyes widened.

"Hang on, you haven't told 'em we actually got it on, have ya? 'Cause that could get me in hella trouble, y'know."

"Don't worry. If anyone asks, I tell them you were the perfect gentleman."

She gave him a sly smile. His expression shifted again, this time to plain disbelief.

"They actually buy that?"

"I think they want to believe it. If I found myself a gentleman bad-boy, maybe they can, too."

Reno snorted and shook his head.

"Heh. Shame gentleman bad-boys don't exist."

"Maybe. You come pretty close, though."

"Nah," he said, laughing. "I'm just too screwed up to screw 'round, yo."

"Don't sell yourself short."

He looked at her, smiling, and out of nowhere Cissnei felt a warmth blossom inside her. Then his smile faded, and he watched her with a seriousness that seemed out of place on him.

"Look, are ya sure about this?" he asked. "Dontcha want a real boyfriend?"

"No," she laughed. "I can barely tell when I'm happy or sad. How would I know if I really like someone? This way the others won't think it's weird that I don't want a boy. I can still pass for normal."

Reno huffed.

"Normal's overrated, y'know. But, if makes your life easier..." He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Sure. Fine by me. So long as I don't gotta bring ya flowers and shit."

Cissnei felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

"Thanks, Reno."

"Hey, no prob. I think I'm gettin' the better deal here." He flashed a grin, then checked his watch and looked over his shoulder. "Look, it's been real damn good seein' ya again, but I gotta get goin'."

"When will I see you again?" she asked, trying to ignore the sudden knot in her belly.

"'Fraid I don't have an answer for ya. Depends on who I gotta roll with and where."

"Well, maybe you could 'roll with' one of the Turks who come to train me at First High?"

"Can't," he said, making a face. "They banned me from the school grounds. Won't be able to get 'round that 'til I'm a full Turk."

It was hard to breathe. Something was pressing down on her chest, making it near impossible to force the air into her lungs.

"You're just leaving me there?" she whispered.

"Hey, 'course I'm not! We just gotta wait 'til were both Turks, and then–"

Reno took a step closer, but she drew back, staring at him with incredulous eyes.

"Until we're both Turks? That'll take forever!"

This time, he reached out and took her hand. She wrapped her fingers tight around his, and didn't resist as he pulled her into a hug.

"It ain't gonna be forever, ya lil' dumbass," he admonished gently. "Just a couple more years. They'll be gone before ya know it. I ain't leavin', all right?"

"Promise?"

It wasn't that she could believe such a promise. After all, her father had made it too. But if Reno made a promise, maybe it would be harder for him to forget her.

"Promise," he murmured, then let her go and ruffled her hair.

"Hey, watch it!" She smacked his hand away and gave him a half-hearted scowl. "I spent ages getting it right!"

"Boyfriend perks. Blame yourself," he quipped with a grin, then sobered up again. "Look, I can try to meet ya here, if I'm in town on a Saturday. Dunno how often I'll be able to swing it, but I'll try. That okay with ya?"

It wasn't much, but it wasn't as if she had a choice. It was better than nothing, at least, and it was certainly better than the limbo she'd been stuck in for the past month and a half. Cissnei mustered a weak smile.

"Okay."

"C'mon. I'll walk ya back to the café."

They walked side by side in silence. Cissnei wasn't surprised he knew her destination. He had probably followed her for a while, waiting for his chance to talk in private. It was what a Turk would do.

Reno brought them to a halt outside the café. Cissnei could see her group of friends through the glass. Cyra saw them first and her eyes went round with surprise. She nudged Ellie and said something that made her and both the twins look up and stare.

"Hey. How 'bout a lil' show for the crowd?"

Puzzled, Cissnei peered up at Reno. He glanced over at her friends, then down at her mouth. There, his gaze lingered, and when he met her eyes again, he smiled and winked.

When she made the connection, it was a like a starting gun that jolted her heart into a wild headlong race. Instinctively, her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she glanced down at his. His lips were even in size, the top one softly curved. Pale pink, like the petals of her mother's peonies. She wondered what they would taste like.

She could find out. Right now.

Cissnei sought out his gaze again and nodded. Smiling wider, he reached up to brush her hair back from her face. As he leaned down, she closed her eyes. Then she felt the gentle pressure of his lips on hers. Soft and firm at the same time, and warm, like his palm on her cheek. The sounds around them faded away. It was a never-ending moment; an eternal second of him, and her, and nothing else.

Yet all too soon, it was over. His mouth left hers, and his hand fell from her face. Cissnei licked her lips. Cherries. A faint taste of cherries.

When she opened her eyes, Reno was smiling at her, creasing the new crescents on his face.

"Happy fifteenth, Ciss."

He stepped away and joined the passing crowd. She watched him go, following the bright shock of red through the sea of black, brown and blonde. Once he disappeared around the corner, she became aware of the titters behind her. The next second she was surrounded by Ellie and the others.

"How was it? How did it feel?"

"By Shiva, that was so romantic!"

"What did he say?"

Pinning on a smile, Cissnei slipped into the role of infatuated girlfriend.

"He said he'd wait for me. When I graduate, he'll be there to take care of me."

"Okay, that's it. You have to tell us everything!"

So Cissnei told them his kiss had taken her breath away, that he had said all the right things, that his promises made her float on little white clouds.

She didn't tell them what his tattoos felt like under her fingertips, or that his smile made her feel warm inside, like a secret cup of cocoa in the kitchen late at night. She didn't tell them about the hint of cherries. Those memories were only for her, and him.