[FF7-AC] Empire - Chapter 10
[FF7-AC] Empire: Chapter 10
Rating: PG-13 (Safe for work) - Status: In progress - Chapter 10/? - Warnings: None
Pairings: Tseng/Rufus, Rude/Reno
Fic summary: Post-AC, barreling down the road to the reconstruction of Shinra Company. A Hero, A President, a new world, and the politics that draw them all into a tangled web beyond all ability to forecast.
Chapter Summary: In two weeks have passed, Cloud is stumped, and there are explosions.
Chapter word count: 3,795
Fic word count: 33,160
X
Buster Sword. Check.
“What was it you used for the underwater reactor? Some extra high density steel? Presumably such a thing could withstand an explosion…”
“Not really. I don’t think there’s anyway to effectively guard against a meltdown…”
Materia. Check.
“You know, life really was simpler when we stuck to mako.”
“Rufus. Shinra. Don’t you even dare to suggest that--”
“Relax. I was just joking.”
Belligerent scowl. Check.
“So if we can’t make a wall thick enough, we’ll have to utilise other methods, I guess. I had a few things on nuclear reactors.”
“I have notes from Gongaga-”
Cloud Strife, saviour of the world and more recently, honorary council member of the WRO, kicked open the door to Reeve’s office with SOLDIER level strength.
The hinges broke. The door sailed across the room, over the heads of the two men seated at Reeve’s desk, to crash into the far wall.
Cloud stared at it. He hadn’t intended to hit it that hard. “...Oops.”
Reeve turned his gaze very slowly from the door, to the dents in the wall, to him.
“Sorry,” Cloud mumbled, but this wasn’t the time to be contrite. He fixed the glare back onto his face, and stormed towards the other occupant of the room, resisting the urge to draw the buster sword and level it under that finely sculpted chin, to force the other’s face up.
Rufus Shinra blinked. “Did you really detest the door that much?”
Oh, that did it. That really did it. Cloud slammed his hands down on the desk in front of the smug bastard. The impact was hard enough to make coffee cups and papers jump. “Zack,” he growled.
“I do believe you have the wrong person,” Rufus said smoothly.
Cloud barely refrained from decking him. “It’s been two weeks.” Two weeks since the attempted impeachment. Two weeks of Reeve and Rufus spending all hours being closeted in this office, working feverishly on the reactor plans, two weeks of Cloud being dispatched to every corner of the world including the Junon underwater reactor, to retrieve things for them. Two weeks of not being able to stop and catch his breath, two weeks of the same question burning itself into his brain at all hours of the day and all hours of the night until he felt like he was going insane. “Two weeks and you still haven’t told me about what transpired between you and Zack!”
Silence descended quite rapidly on the room after that, the echoes of Cloud’s yell bouncing off walls and all the way out the ruined doorframe and into the corridor. Doubtless, everyone was listening.
“Oh, Zack,” Rufus said, turning his attention back to the blueprints and writing rapidly in the margin with a mechanical pencil. “I’ve told you everything there is to know-” and then he paused, because the buster sword was tickling his throat, threatening to slice bandages off. And more than bandages, if Cloud lost it.
Cloud felt singularly like a Shinra when he saw Rufus flinch. It was satisfying, finding that psychological button and pushing it, hard. So satisfying to see his enemy crumble, defeated at his own mindgames, one step behind all the way. So satisfying to have the answers almost within reach. He was starting to understand why Rufus played the games he did--
“Cloud, that isn’t really proper,” Reeve said. “Put that down.”
...Trust Reeve to spoil everything. And the trademark Cloud Strife scowl didn’t work on him. “Not until he gives me answers.”
“Cloud--“ Reeve began, and his voice was stern, angry. Cloud knew he was running out of allowance here. He really should have cornered Rufus elsewhere.
“Very well,” Rufus said, his eyes riveted on the steel levelled unerringly at his jugular. “I had ...feelings... for Zack. Are you happy now?”
Cloud all but dropped the sword at that. The tip clanged noisily against the floor, leaving a groove, as his arm muscles seemed to lose all strength. “You what?”
Rufus rubbed his neck, and went back to writing. “I was fourteen,” he said, as though that explained everything.
...If Reeve stared any harder, his eyes were going to drop out.
“But...” Cloud said. He’d ... well, maybe he had half expected that answer, because paranoia was like that and painted doomsday scenarios. But he’d never expected to actually get it, and certainly not outright like this. It felt like a sledgehammer had just hit his gut.
Wait, he thought. He’s just saying that to make fun of you. Get you off his back. He isn’t serious.
“...Well, Zack was a SOLDIER 1st, wasn’t he?” Reeve said thoughtfully. “He and Sephiroth were just about the heroes of the Wutai front. There were stories of them all the time. Everyone looked up to them and admired them...”
“Zack was human,” Rufus said, a little short. “Everything that Sephiroth wasn’t. Everything that I wasn’t.” Was that a trace of embarrassment hidden in the curtness in his voice?
...Maybe he is serious.
Cloud slumped into a chair. The thought of Rufus Shinra and crushes all but melted his brain.
“Zack was a nice chap,” Reeve said.
“He had an amazing knack for understanding people. For getting things done through charm, charisma, and sheer, bloody blind luck,” Rufus’ voice was flat. “An amazing individual, with a unique brand of leadership. And then Shinra killed him.” There was a snap as the pencil lead broke.
Reeve and Cloud exchanged glances.
“I have a meeting,” Reeve said smoothly, rising. “I’ll get someone to look at the door.”
“Reeve-” Cloud started.
Then Reeve was gone.
Rufus clicked the pencil, and continued writing. He was completely expressionless.
“It, must... have been... hard. When he attacked, you, that is,” Cloud offered, biting back the instinctive flash of jealousy he felt. He had had a crush on Zack at that age. The thought of Zack and Rufus Shinra going off together on a merry trip to... Icicle, was it?... made his inner fourteen year old wail.
The corner of Rufus’ mouth twitched. “It’s over. I don’t think about it any more.”
...look of utter betrayal... “...It doesn’t bother you?” They’d had so much more time together... sure, Cloud had seen Zack around sometimes, but that hardly counted!
“I’m not the one with the obsession with the past.”
Oh, low blow. Any sympathy he might have felt dried up straight away, and the scowl returned, full force. “I’m not the one whose company killed him.”
The scratch of lead against paper stopped abruptly. Silence reigned, for several heartbeats, before Rufus put the pencil down, and gathered the papers. “...I have a meeting,” the president said, standing.
Shit. Cloud found himself standing. He didn’t quite catch Rufus’ arm - he couldn’t bring himself to be that familiar with a Shinra - but he did move to block the exit. “...I shouldn’t have said that,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Eyes that were as blue as his own studied him. Not for the first time, Cloud wondered what Rufus saw, what the world looked like from the viewpoint of a one-time dictator. He liked Zack, an insidious inner voice said. No, he admired Zack. Anyone who admires Zack can’t be that bad...
“Apology accepted,” Rufus gave him a curt nod, and moved to brush past. Cloud moved to block him again.
“If you please,” Rufus said, voice pointed.
“I said I’m sorry. I mean it.”
They stared at each other for a long time. Two minutes. Maybe three.
Abruptly, the battered door slid down the wall and crashed onto the floor. That broke the spell, quite effectively, and Rufus sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and dumped everything he was carrying back on the table once more. “Good grief, Strife,” he sighed, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall with a thump. “You make the worst diplomat on this side of the Planet.”
“Yeah,” Cloud agreed, mollified. He still couldn’t say that he hadn’t meant it, though. It would mean admitting that Rufus hadn’t been responsible for the past deeds of Shinra, and he wasn’t sure he believed that. Yet.
“You may stop apologising now.” Rufus waved a hand and glanced at him. “Just what are you after?”
Yes, that attitude was the reason why he wasn’t quite ready to forgive Rufus. “Tell me about what happened,” he said, bracing himself for argument. He wasn’t sure he was up to one. Talking to Rufus took him so far out of his comfort zone that he felt like he was running on slippery ice. Slippery thin ice. Slippery thin ice with sharks just beneath. He didn’t know how to react, his responses were all over the map. He didn’t even like normal conversation except with Zack, because Zack had always made it so easy to talk, and it had been the most comfortable feeling in the world, talking to him...
Rufus glanced over at the window, gears obviously turning in his head. Ifrit only knew what he was thinking. Or plotting. Or scheming.
“I was more excited about the trip, I remember,” Rufus said quietly. “Than about my escort. In fact, I hadn’t known who my escort was, and I didn’t find out until we were aboard the airship. It was a bit of a shock. I hadn’t realised he’d returned from the frontier, however temporarily.” His eyes were locked on the window, as though looking into the past. “And it was awkward. He didn’t seem to like me or the assignment very much. I put it down to the hero of Wutai being dissatisfied with guard duty, and I was torn between being cold in return to him, or trying to draw him out of his shell.
“In the end, curiosity won. I wanted to find out more about his particular brand of leadership - or so I thought, anyway. Truth to be told, I was curious about him, and I wanted him to like me.” He shrugged, one shouldered. “It was a long trip. I got him to open up to me, eventually. I tossed hypothetical situations at him, asked him how he would handle it. I learnt a lot, but so much of what he did was based on subconscious understanding and pure instinct that it was difficult for him to articulate it.
“In the end, the decision to talk to him was what saved my life. He must have been torn between his mission orders and his own sense of fairness. I don’t know if he checked - if he did, he would have found out that I had nothing to do with those villages, but I did have ambitions to overthrow my father. Either way, he hesitated-”
“Zack?” He’d half run, half walked across the deck of the airship, glad to be heading back to Midgar at last. It had been a long, tiring, and overall cold trip up north. “Zack, about that question I asked you...”
Zack had been standing by the railing, the sword strapped to his back, eyes fixed on the ground as it fell away from them. There had been an unusual stillness about him, some kind of tension... but Rufus had dismissed it out of hand.
“I think I figured out-”
Zack had spun so quickly he hadn’t seen him. The sword had gone from its scabbard to his hand as though by magic. And then he couldn’t breathe, and there was red everywhere, and he wondered for one crazy second if it was fireworks, because surely it couldn’t be his blood...
There had been a clang. Strong hands had grabbed him as he fell, every muscle gone to water, and there had been green, and soothing warmth that battled against the pain that he hadn’t even realised had erupted.
“Shiva, Rufus... I’m sorry... I... shit...”
He couldn’t speak. He tried to clutch at his throat, but Zack batted his hand away, and the world was going steadily darker. He felt the splash of warmth on his cheek, and didn’t know if it was blood or...
Why, he wanted to ask. But he was too busy gulping for air that was suddenly there, the healing tingle of materia all about him. Something splashed on his skin, and he tasted a healing potion flood his mouth just before the world went entirely black.
“...he hesitated,” Rufus said. “The next time I awoke, I was back in Midgar. He’d returned to Wutai, and I never met him in person again. A few years later, he was sent to Nibelheim.” He tilted his head. “I cannot help but feel that it was this particular failure to adhere to orders that inspired my father to give Hojo free reign to experiment on a precious SOLDIER 1st.”
Cloud glanced to the side. “Zack was ... always ready to ... I should have died instead of him.”
There was more silence. A breeze from somewhere rustled Rufus’ papers.
“I should get someone to look at the door,” Cloud said, preparing to leave.
“I’m not sure Zack could have defeated Sephiroth,” Rufus said, quite suddenly.
“I’m sure he could have-”
“He couldn’t, back at Nibelheim.”
“Neither could I.” Cloud glanced back. Rufus was still leaning against the wall, arms folded, staring out of the window.
“Zack had no personal demons,” Rufus said. “Or few, anyway. Not the kind of demons you had. Not in the same way you had. You know what they say about that which does not kill us...”
“Zack was better than I am. Would have been better than I am. Would have been better than anything I could ever be,” Cloud said stubbornly, a little angry. How presumptuous of Rufus. A two week trip didn’t make him the expert on Zack.
“Perhaps,” Rufus agreed, almost absently. “But I, for one, am glad that you survived.”
Cloud stared, his mind going horribly blank at that statement. That statement that was right out of the blue. With no explanation offered for it.
...And he’d rather die than ask for an explanation.
Rufus continued staring out of the window.
“I have to-” Cloud started.
“-get someone to look at the door,” Rufus finished.
“...Yeah,” Cloud said. And fled.
*
“Rufus speaking.”
“Give me a moment-right. Okay. The shipment you asked me to retrieve from Dio? They told me it doesn’t exist.”
“What?”
“I’m standing right here at the Golden Saucer. They told me there quite definitely isn’t any package, whether for you or for the WRO. Did you just send me off on a wild goose chase?”
“I’m shorthanded enough without doing that! Why don’t you catch a rest, and I’ll call Dio in the morning.”
“It’s late over there, isn’t it? You’re still working.”
“Some of the council members aren’t happy with our progress. Reeve wants to run a presentation past them at the assembly tomorrow.”
“It’s 4am over there, Rufus.”
“...I didn’t know you cared, Strife.”
“...I don’t. But Reeve needs you at the moment. We can’t afford to have you kill yourself from overworking. Go get some sleep.”
“...Your concern is touching.”
“...I said I didn’t care!”
“...Well, since you insist, I guess an early night is in order.”
“...” Dial tone.
*
“Chief!”
Someone was shaking his shoulder. Rufus dredged himself reluctantly out of the deepest point of the sleep cycle, blinking blurry eyed and disoriented in the dark. He’d just gotten off the phone with Strife and gone to bed, hadn’t he? Tseng had already been sleeping, and he’d flopped in beside him, closed his eyes, and passed out almost immediately.
But Tseng was gone, leaving only a warm patch on the mattress, and the Turk shaking his shoulder wasn’t the Director.
“Reno.” He stifled a yawn. “What is it?”
“Shh,” Reno said, a finger over his lips and a deadly serious look on his face that was discernible even in the gloom. “Seems like we got trouble. We’d best move you to a safer location.”
That got his attention. The Turks on the job were not people to argue with, not if he liked remaining in the realm of the living. He fumbled for a change of clothes, as Reno slipped out into the hallway, returning a moment later with his shotgun and pistol. The Turk passed them to him, unusually silent, and moved to pack up his laptop.
“What manner of trouble?” Rufus asked softly. He wondered if it had anything to do with the WRO. The council had been edgy of late. He glanced at his white suit and regretfully abandoned it for more practical black.
“Shitty kind of trouble,” Reno muttered back. “Hurry. I’ll explain on the way. Corridor’s secure.”
Which meant shut up and move, because things were going to start exploding around them. Rufus stifled a curse, quite definitely awake now, and holstered both guns before joining Reno in legging it towards the door.
Rude was in the corridor, if the sequence of flashes from a torchlight at the other end were any indicator. Reno shoved the laptop bag at him and drew his EMR. “Stick with me, Chief. We need to get to the helicopter.”
He didn’t bother with nodding, not when Reno’s attention wasn’t even on him. They stole down the corridor, Reno’s soft-soled boots noiseless, and Rufus’ own dress shoes only a little noisier. Rude nodded at them as they caught up, took the laptop bag from Rufus with one swift movement and placed an arm on his back, hurrying him along. He couldn’t hear movement anywhere, but that just meant that general pandemonium hadn’t broken out yet. Trust the Turks to be more on top of things than the WRO’s own security.
Unless... the WRO’s own security was involved in this.
Worse and worse. They reached the lifts, where Rude tapped his commlink, obviously communicating with someone. Elena or Tseng, perhaps. The answer must have been positive, because he hurried Rufus into the lift, peeling open the control panel as he rewired it with silent efficiency.
Reno joined them a second later, reporting that the corridor behind was secure, no one following them yet.
“Is it targeted at me?” Rufus asked.
“Tseng thinks so,” Rude said, as the lift doors slid shut. The bottom dropped out of Rufus’ stomach as the lift plummeted downwards.
“Yeah. Some fucker wants you dead, prob. We ain’t too sure. Just that there’s been a lot of suspicious movement around and most of it’s around this part ‘a town.”
“What about Reeve?” he asked.
“Cat guy has his own guards,” Reno said, tapping the EMR on his shoulder, a nervous habit. “We lost comms, though. Which is why we said fuck it, we’re getting outta here before th’ place goes crazy. Crazier, anyway.”
The lift doors swished open, and Rufus felt a gust of cold air that signalled they were on the ground floor.
“Sir!” a familiar voice greeted them, as Elena gave the all clear signal. Rude at his back, Rufus jogged out, joining her as they made for the helicopter. Reno darted off to the side, presumably securing the perimeter.
“I’m glad you’re alright,” Elena said, ever the conversant one. “We don’t have a definite threat at the moment, but there’s definitely something suspicious going on-”
Something shifted.
Abruptly, someone slammed into him, tackling him to the ground. Concrete smashed the breath out of him, when the entire world seemed to explode right next to him. Rude - because it was Rude - grunted, bodily shielding him as another blast rang out, so loud that it felt like someone shoving a drill into his ears. What... the hell?!
Someone yelled something. Elena was on her feet and yelling, but Rufus couldn’t hear her past the ringing in his ears. Strong hands grabbed him, hauling him up, and grabbed his wrist and ran. He followed instinctively, stumbling after Rude, who could move remarkably quickly when he had to. The smell of jet fuel and blood assaulted his senses a second later, the glow from fires burning into his retinas.
They were headed back, he noticed. Away from the helicopter pad.
“Where are we going?” he yelled, but he couldn’t hear his own voice. Liquid seeped down his forehead, warm and sticky. There were smaller explosions in the distance.
Rude didn’t answer. Rude ran, never letting go of his wrist, never looking around for his partners, a pistol cradled in his free hand.
Where was Tseng?
He was used to the Turks dividing duties amongst themselves. He was used to being escorted by any of the four, but if Tseng had been holding down the final rendezvous point, if Tseng had been at the helicopter...
“Where is Tseng?” he demanded, gasping it out between wheezing breaths.
Rude still didn’t answer. He didn’t know if it was because the Turk couldn’t hear him, or because he didn’t want to.
Shit. He knew better than to argue with them, but damned if he didn’t want to turn around and head right back there to find out...
Rude mouthed something.
“What?!”
He couldn’t run if Tseng was dead. He couldn’t run if Tseng was lying there, mortally wounded, bleeding out his last few seconds of life. He had to know. Had to.
Pavement turned to graphite as Rude blew open the flimsy lock on a perimeter fence and forced his way into the carpark. Rufus stumbled after, nearly tripping over his own feet, before he found himself all but shoved into the passenger seat, the laptop dumped on his lap. Rude raced down to the other side, and flinging himself into the driver’s seat, and revved the engine even before he’d closed the door.
The entire world shook as a blast claimed half the neighbouring building. Bricks rained down on them, one of them crunching into the boot of the car. Rude slammed a foot down on the accelerator as Rufus grappled for the seatbelt, and tore out of the carpark amidst a shower of flaming debris. Somewhere nearby, another engine roared to life, and he saw another car pull in behind them, following as they slammed right through the perimeter fence. He ducked instinctively, but the armoured glass of the windscreen held as metal shrieked across it, and then they were through.
“Reno?” he yelled, gesturing at the car behind.
Rude nodded.
Reno, and probably Elena. But where was...
“Don’t know,” Rude said, evidently reading his mind. “But our first priority is you, sir. He would have wanted that.”
Would have wanted that.
Shit. His fingers were numb as they caught hold of the seatbelt and clicked it on, not a second too soon as Rude flung them around a corner at 40 miles an hour and stepped on the gas again. Shit shit shit shit...
To be continued
Rating: PG-13 (Safe for work) - Status: In progress - Chapter 10/? - Warnings: None
Pairings: Tseng/Rufus, Rude/Reno
Fic summary: Post-AC, barreling down the road to the reconstruction of Shinra Company. A Hero, A President, a new world, and the politics that draw them all into a tangled web beyond all ability to forecast.
Chapter Summary: In two weeks have passed, Cloud is stumped, and there are explosions.
Chapter word count: 3,795
Fic word count: 33,160
X
Buster Sword. Check.
“What was it you used for the underwater reactor? Some extra high density steel? Presumably such a thing could withstand an explosion…”
“Not really. I don’t think there’s anyway to effectively guard against a meltdown…”
Materia. Check.
“You know, life really was simpler when we stuck to mako.”
“Rufus. Shinra. Don’t you even dare to suggest that--”
“Relax. I was just joking.”
Belligerent scowl. Check.
“So if we can’t make a wall thick enough, we’ll have to utilise other methods, I guess. I had a few things on nuclear reactors.”
“I have notes from Gongaga-”
Cloud Strife, saviour of the world and more recently, honorary council member of the WRO, kicked open the door to Reeve’s office with SOLDIER level strength.
The hinges broke. The door sailed across the room, over the heads of the two men seated at Reeve’s desk, to crash into the far wall.
Cloud stared at it. He hadn’t intended to hit it that hard. “...Oops.”
Reeve turned his gaze very slowly from the door, to the dents in the wall, to him.
“Sorry,” Cloud mumbled, but this wasn’t the time to be contrite. He fixed the glare back onto his face, and stormed towards the other occupant of the room, resisting the urge to draw the buster sword and level it under that finely sculpted chin, to force the other’s face up.
Rufus Shinra blinked. “Did you really detest the door that much?”
Oh, that did it. That really did it. Cloud slammed his hands down on the desk in front of the smug bastard. The impact was hard enough to make coffee cups and papers jump. “Zack,” he growled.
“I do believe you have the wrong person,” Rufus said smoothly.
Cloud barely refrained from decking him. “It’s been two weeks.” Two weeks since the attempted impeachment. Two weeks of Reeve and Rufus spending all hours being closeted in this office, working feverishly on the reactor plans, two weeks of Cloud being dispatched to every corner of the world including the Junon underwater reactor, to retrieve things for them. Two weeks of not being able to stop and catch his breath, two weeks of the same question burning itself into his brain at all hours of the day and all hours of the night until he felt like he was going insane. “Two weeks and you still haven’t told me about what transpired between you and Zack!”
Silence descended quite rapidly on the room after that, the echoes of Cloud’s yell bouncing off walls and all the way out the ruined doorframe and into the corridor. Doubtless, everyone was listening.
“Oh, Zack,” Rufus said, turning his attention back to the blueprints and writing rapidly in the margin with a mechanical pencil. “I’ve told you everything there is to know-” and then he paused, because the buster sword was tickling his throat, threatening to slice bandages off. And more than bandages, if Cloud lost it.
Cloud felt singularly like a Shinra when he saw Rufus flinch. It was satisfying, finding that psychological button and pushing it, hard. So satisfying to see his enemy crumble, defeated at his own mindgames, one step behind all the way. So satisfying to have the answers almost within reach. He was starting to understand why Rufus played the games he did--
“Cloud, that isn’t really proper,” Reeve said. “Put that down.”
...Trust Reeve to spoil everything. And the trademark Cloud Strife scowl didn’t work on him. “Not until he gives me answers.”
“Cloud--“ Reeve began, and his voice was stern, angry. Cloud knew he was running out of allowance here. He really should have cornered Rufus elsewhere.
“Very well,” Rufus said, his eyes riveted on the steel levelled unerringly at his jugular. “I had ...feelings... for Zack. Are you happy now?”
Cloud all but dropped the sword at that. The tip clanged noisily against the floor, leaving a groove, as his arm muscles seemed to lose all strength. “You what?”
Rufus rubbed his neck, and went back to writing. “I was fourteen,” he said, as though that explained everything.
...If Reeve stared any harder, his eyes were going to drop out.
“But...” Cloud said. He’d ... well, maybe he had half expected that answer, because paranoia was like that and painted doomsday scenarios. But he’d never expected to actually get it, and certainly not outright like this. It felt like a sledgehammer had just hit his gut.
Wait, he thought. He’s just saying that to make fun of you. Get you off his back. He isn’t serious.
“...Well, Zack was a SOLDIER 1st, wasn’t he?” Reeve said thoughtfully. “He and Sephiroth were just about the heroes of the Wutai front. There were stories of them all the time. Everyone looked up to them and admired them...”
“Zack was human,” Rufus said, a little short. “Everything that Sephiroth wasn’t. Everything that I wasn’t.” Was that a trace of embarrassment hidden in the curtness in his voice?
...Maybe he is serious.
Cloud slumped into a chair. The thought of Rufus Shinra and crushes all but melted his brain.
“Zack was a nice chap,” Reeve said.
“He had an amazing knack for understanding people. For getting things done through charm, charisma, and sheer, bloody blind luck,” Rufus’ voice was flat. “An amazing individual, with a unique brand of leadership. And then Shinra killed him.” There was a snap as the pencil lead broke.
Reeve and Cloud exchanged glances.
“I have a meeting,” Reeve said smoothly, rising. “I’ll get someone to look at the door.”
“Reeve-” Cloud started.
Then Reeve was gone.
Rufus clicked the pencil, and continued writing. He was completely expressionless.
“It, must... have been... hard. When he attacked, you, that is,” Cloud offered, biting back the instinctive flash of jealousy he felt. He had had a crush on Zack at that age. The thought of Zack and Rufus Shinra going off together on a merry trip to... Icicle, was it?... made his inner fourteen year old wail.
The corner of Rufus’ mouth twitched. “It’s over. I don’t think about it any more.”
...look of utter betrayal... “...It doesn’t bother you?” They’d had so much more time together... sure, Cloud had seen Zack around sometimes, but that hardly counted!
“I’m not the one with the obsession with the past.”
Oh, low blow. Any sympathy he might have felt dried up straight away, and the scowl returned, full force. “I’m not the one whose company killed him.”
The scratch of lead against paper stopped abruptly. Silence reigned, for several heartbeats, before Rufus put the pencil down, and gathered the papers. “...I have a meeting,” the president said, standing.
Shit. Cloud found himself standing. He didn’t quite catch Rufus’ arm - he couldn’t bring himself to be that familiar with a Shinra - but he did move to block the exit. “...I shouldn’t have said that,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Eyes that were as blue as his own studied him. Not for the first time, Cloud wondered what Rufus saw, what the world looked like from the viewpoint of a one-time dictator. He liked Zack, an insidious inner voice said. No, he admired Zack. Anyone who admires Zack can’t be that bad...
“Apology accepted,” Rufus gave him a curt nod, and moved to brush past. Cloud moved to block him again.
“If you please,” Rufus said, voice pointed.
“I said I’m sorry. I mean it.”
They stared at each other for a long time. Two minutes. Maybe three.
Abruptly, the battered door slid down the wall and crashed onto the floor. That broke the spell, quite effectively, and Rufus sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and dumped everything he was carrying back on the table once more. “Good grief, Strife,” he sighed, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall with a thump. “You make the worst diplomat on this side of the Planet.”
“Yeah,” Cloud agreed, mollified. He still couldn’t say that he hadn’t meant it, though. It would mean admitting that Rufus hadn’t been responsible for the past deeds of Shinra, and he wasn’t sure he believed that. Yet.
“You may stop apologising now.” Rufus waved a hand and glanced at him. “Just what are you after?”
Yes, that attitude was the reason why he wasn’t quite ready to forgive Rufus. “Tell me about what happened,” he said, bracing himself for argument. He wasn’t sure he was up to one. Talking to Rufus took him so far out of his comfort zone that he felt like he was running on slippery ice. Slippery thin ice. Slippery thin ice with sharks just beneath. He didn’t know how to react, his responses were all over the map. He didn’t even like normal conversation except with Zack, because Zack had always made it so easy to talk, and it had been the most comfortable feeling in the world, talking to him...
Rufus glanced over at the window, gears obviously turning in his head. Ifrit only knew what he was thinking. Or plotting. Or scheming.
“I was more excited about the trip, I remember,” Rufus said quietly. “Than about my escort. In fact, I hadn’t known who my escort was, and I didn’t find out until we were aboard the airship. It was a bit of a shock. I hadn’t realised he’d returned from the frontier, however temporarily.” His eyes were locked on the window, as though looking into the past. “And it was awkward. He didn’t seem to like me or the assignment very much. I put it down to the hero of Wutai being dissatisfied with guard duty, and I was torn between being cold in return to him, or trying to draw him out of his shell.
“In the end, curiosity won. I wanted to find out more about his particular brand of leadership - or so I thought, anyway. Truth to be told, I was curious about him, and I wanted him to like me.” He shrugged, one shouldered. “It was a long trip. I got him to open up to me, eventually. I tossed hypothetical situations at him, asked him how he would handle it. I learnt a lot, but so much of what he did was based on subconscious understanding and pure instinct that it was difficult for him to articulate it.
“In the end, the decision to talk to him was what saved my life. He must have been torn between his mission orders and his own sense of fairness. I don’t know if he checked - if he did, he would have found out that I had nothing to do with those villages, but I did have ambitions to overthrow my father. Either way, he hesitated-”
“Zack?” He’d half run, half walked across the deck of the airship, glad to be heading back to Midgar at last. It had been a long, tiring, and overall cold trip up north. “Zack, about that question I asked you...”
Zack had been standing by the railing, the sword strapped to his back, eyes fixed on the ground as it fell away from them. There had been an unusual stillness about him, some kind of tension... but Rufus had dismissed it out of hand.
“I think I figured out-”
Zack had spun so quickly he hadn’t seen him. The sword had gone from its scabbard to his hand as though by magic. And then he couldn’t breathe, and there was red everywhere, and he wondered for one crazy second if it was fireworks, because surely it couldn’t be his blood...
There had been a clang. Strong hands had grabbed him as he fell, every muscle gone to water, and there had been green, and soothing warmth that battled against the pain that he hadn’t even realised had erupted.
“Shiva, Rufus... I’m sorry... I... shit...”
He couldn’t speak. He tried to clutch at his throat, but Zack batted his hand away, and the world was going steadily darker. He felt the splash of warmth on his cheek, and didn’t know if it was blood or...
Why, he wanted to ask. But he was too busy gulping for air that was suddenly there, the healing tingle of materia all about him. Something splashed on his skin, and he tasted a healing potion flood his mouth just before the world went entirely black.
“...he hesitated,” Rufus said. “The next time I awoke, I was back in Midgar. He’d returned to Wutai, and I never met him in person again. A few years later, he was sent to Nibelheim.” He tilted his head. “I cannot help but feel that it was this particular failure to adhere to orders that inspired my father to give Hojo free reign to experiment on a precious SOLDIER 1st.”
Cloud glanced to the side. “Zack was ... always ready to ... I should have died instead of him.”
There was more silence. A breeze from somewhere rustled Rufus’ papers.
“I should get someone to look at the door,” Cloud said, preparing to leave.
“I’m not sure Zack could have defeated Sephiroth,” Rufus said, quite suddenly.
“I’m sure he could have-”
“He couldn’t, back at Nibelheim.”
“Neither could I.” Cloud glanced back. Rufus was still leaning against the wall, arms folded, staring out of the window.
“Zack had no personal demons,” Rufus said. “Or few, anyway. Not the kind of demons you had. Not in the same way you had. You know what they say about that which does not kill us...”
“Zack was better than I am. Would have been better than I am. Would have been better than anything I could ever be,” Cloud said stubbornly, a little angry. How presumptuous of Rufus. A two week trip didn’t make him the expert on Zack.
“Perhaps,” Rufus agreed, almost absently. “But I, for one, am glad that you survived.”
Cloud stared, his mind going horribly blank at that statement. That statement that was right out of the blue. With no explanation offered for it.
...And he’d rather die than ask for an explanation.
Rufus continued staring out of the window.
“I have to-” Cloud started.
“-get someone to look at the door,” Rufus finished.
“...Yeah,” Cloud said. And fled.
*
“Rufus speaking.”
“Give me a moment-right. Okay. The shipment you asked me to retrieve from Dio? They told me it doesn’t exist.”
“What?”
“I’m standing right here at the Golden Saucer. They told me there quite definitely isn’t any package, whether for you or for the WRO. Did you just send me off on a wild goose chase?”
“I’m shorthanded enough without doing that! Why don’t you catch a rest, and I’ll call Dio in the morning.”
“It’s late over there, isn’t it? You’re still working.”
“Some of the council members aren’t happy with our progress. Reeve wants to run a presentation past them at the assembly tomorrow.”
“It’s 4am over there, Rufus.”
“...I didn’t know you cared, Strife.”
“...I don’t. But Reeve needs you at the moment. We can’t afford to have you kill yourself from overworking. Go get some sleep.”
“...Your concern is touching.”
“...I said I didn’t care!”
“...Well, since you insist, I guess an early night is in order.”
“...” Dial tone.
*
“Chief!”
Someone was shaking his shoulder. Rufus dredged himself reluctantly out of the deepest point of the sleep cycle, blinking blurry eyed and disoriented in the dark. He’d just gotten off the phone with Strife and gone to bed, hadn’t he? Tseng had already been sleeping, and he’d flopped in beside him, closed his eyes, and passed out almost immediately.
But Tseng was gone, leaving only a warm patch on the mattress, and the Turk shaking his shoulder wasn’t the Director.
“Reno.” He stifled a yawn. “What is it?”
“Shh,” Reno said, a finger over his lips and a deadly serious look on his face that was discernible even in the gloom. “Seems like we got trouble. We’d best move you to a safer location.”
That got his attention. The Turks on the job were not people to argue with, not if he liked remaining in the realm of the living. He fumbled for a change of clothes, as Reno slipped out into the hallway, returning a moment later with his shotgun and pistol. The Turk passed them to him, unusually silent, and moved to pack up his laptop.
“What manner of trouble?” Rufus asked softly. He wondered if it had anything to do with the WRO. The council had been edgy of late. He glanced at his white suit and regretfully abandoned it for more practical black.
“Shitty kind of trouble,” Reno muttered back. “Hurry. I’ll explain on the way. Corridor’s secure.”
Which meant shut up and move, because things were going to start exploding around them. Rufus stifled a curse, quite definitely awake now, and holstered both guns before joining Reno in legging it towards the door.
Rude was in the corridor, if the sequence of flashes from a torchlight at the other end were any indicator. Reno shoved the laptop bag at him and drew his EMR. “Stick with me, Chief. We need to get to the helicopter.”
He didn’t bother with nodding, not when Reno’s attention wasn’t even on him. They stole down the corridor, Reno’s soft-soled boots noiseless, and Rufus’ own dress shoes only a little noisier. Rude nodded at them as they caught up, took the laptop bag from Rufus with one swift movement and placed an arm on his back, hurrying him along. He couldn’t hear movement anywhere, but that just meant that general pandemonium hadn’t broken out yet. Trust the Turks to be more on top of things than the WRO’s own security.
Unless... the WRO’s own security was involved in this.
Worse and worse. They reached the lifts, where Rude tapped his commlink, obviously communicating with someone. Elena or Tseng, perhaps. The answer must have been positive, because he hurried Rufus into the lift, peeling open the control panel as he rewired it with silent efficiency.
Reno joined them a second later, reporting that the corridor behind was secure, no one following them yet.
“Is it targeted at me?” Rufus asked.
“Tseng thinks so,” Rude said, as the lift doors slid shut. The bottom dropped out of Rufus’ stomach as the lift plummeted downwards.
“Yeah. Some fucker wants you dead, prob. We ain’t too sure. Just that there’s been a lot of suspicious movement around and most of it’s around this part ‘a town.”
“What about Reeve?” he asked.
“Cat guy has his own guards,” Reno said, tapping the EMR on his shoulder, a nervous habit. “We lost comms, though. Which is why we said fuck it, we’re getting outta here before th’ place goes crazy. Crazier, anyway.”
The lift doors swished open, and Rufus felt a gust of cold air that signalled they were on the ground floor.
“Sir!” a familiar voice greeted them, as Elena gave the all clear signal. Rude at his back, Rufus jogged out, joining her as they made for the helicopter. Reno darted off to the side, presumably securing the perimeter.
“I’m glad you’re alright,” Elena said, ever the conversant one. “We don’t have a definite threat at the moment, but there’s definitely something suspicious going on-”
Something shifted.
Abruptly, someone slammed into him, tackling him to the ground. Concrete smashed the breath out of him, when the entire world seemed to explode right next to him. Rude - because it was Rude - grunted, bodily shielding him as another blast rang out, so loud that it felt like someone shoving a drill into his ears. What... the hell?!
Someone yelled something. Elena was on her feet and yelling, but Rufus couldn’t hear her past the ringing in his ears. Strong hands grabbed him, hauling him up, and grabbed his wrist and ran. He followed instinctively, stumbling after Rude, who could move remarkably quickly when he had to. The smell of jet fuel and blood assaulted his senses a second later, the glow from fires burning into his retinas.
They were headed back, he noticed. Away from the helicopter pad.
“Where are we going?” he yelled, but he couldn’t hear his own voice. Liquid seeped down his forehead, warm and sticky. There were smaller explosions in the distance.
Rude didn’t answer. Rude ran, never letting go of his wrist, never looking around for his partners, a pistol cradled in his free hand.
Where was Tseng?
He was used to the Turks dividing duties amongst themselves. He was used to being escorted by any of the four, but if Tseng had been holding down the final rendezvous point, if Tseng had been at the helicopter...
“Where is Tseng?” he demanded, gasping it out between wheezing breaths.
Rude still didn’t answer. He didn’t know if it was because the Turk couldn’t hear him, or because he didn’t want to.
Shit. He knew better than to argue with them, but damned if he didn’t want to turn around and head right back there to find out...
Rude mouthed something.
“What?!”
He couldn’t run if Tseng was dead. He couldn’t run if Tseng was lying there, mortally wounded, bleeding out his last few seconds of life. He had to know. Had to.
Pavement turned to graphite as Rude blew open the flimsy lock on a perimeter fence and forced his way into the carpark. Rufus stumbled after, nearly tripping over his own feet, before he found himself all but shoved into the passenger seat, the laptop dumped on his lap. Rude raced down to the other side, and flinging himself into the driver’s seat, and revved the engine even before he’d closed the door.
The entire world shook as a blast claimed half the neighbouring building. Bricks rained down on them, one of them crunching into the boot of the car. Rude slammed a foot down on the accelerator as Rufus grappled for the seatbelt, and tore out of the carpark amidst a shower of flaming debris. Somewhere nearby, another engine roared to life, and he saw another car pull in behind them, following as they slammed right through the perimeter fence. He ducked instinctively, but the armoured glass of the windscreen held as metal shrieked across it, and then they were through.
“Reno?” he yelled, gesturing at the car behind.
Rude nodded.
Reno, and probably Elena. But where was...
“Don’t know,” Rude said, evidently reading his mind. “But our first priority is you, sir. He would have wanted that.”
Would have wanted that.
Shit. His fingers were numb as they caught hold of the seatbelt and clicked it on, not a second too soon as Rude flung them around a corner at 40 miles an hour and stepped on the gas again. Shit shit shit shit...
To be continued