30_angsts, theme 21: Lost Memories ( 03; tseng/rufus; ffvii )
For 30_angsts. Tseng/Rufus without a warning label.
21. Lost Memories
Monday morning, and his first meeting with Rufus Shinra. Tseng arrived promptly at nine a.m. as expected and rang the chime. Seconds passed with no answer and no response for a knock on the door, either. He let himself in with the keycard he had been given-in case of emergencies-and stepped inside. There was no one in the entryway, but further exploration found his assigned charge sitting in the living room. The teenager’s blonde head was bent over a chess board, one hand hovering above it as he carefully pondered his move.
Tseng remained on the fringes of the room, reluctant to interrupt or announce his presence too abruptly. The moment gave him an advantage, the opportunity to study Rufus Shinra closer than he ever had before. Little more than a boy, the sixteen-year-old heir was dressed completely in black-a total lack of color that did not suit him-and his hair seemed to be suffering the aftermath of dye with broad black streaks interspersed in the natural gold.
It was while Tseng made this observation that Rufus chose to look up, distracted-lucky that the Turk was not a malicious intruder-and his expression went from surprise to suspicion.
“Who are you?”
“My apologies, sir,” the Turk replied with a small bow. “My name is Tseng. I’ve been assigned to you as a bodyguard.”
Rufus pressed his lips together in a tight line, blue eyes cold as he sized the man up. “A Turk. Sent by my old man to keep an eye on, I suppose?”
Tseng had the good grace to tactfully ignore that question. “Your father thought it wise that you have your own guard.”
“And I’m sure it has nothing to do with me plotting his untimely death,” Rufus replied, too casually. He looked back to his game. “So tell me, Tseng, do you play?”
“Some.”
“Good, it will be refreshing to have someone to play with. I keep putting myself into check, it’s very frustrating. Sit down. You can be black. It’s your move.”
Wondering if this was Rufus’s way of keeping him off-balance-or trying-Tseng complied and took the chair opposite the young man (little more than a boy, really). He spent a long moment studying the positions of the pieces. He was at a disadvantage, given that Rufus had been playing chess against himself and the pieces that now belonged to the Turk were right where the vice president wanted them.
Appropriate, in a way, Tseng thought. He was acutely aware of Rufus watching as he considered each move, calculating the strategy behind them. Then he saw it, the weak link that his opponent had missed. He lifted the piece, moved it exactly, two spaces left and one forward. Endgame.
“Checkmate,” he said.
Rufus seemed to have an almost-smile on his face as he looked down at the board. The black knight, taking the white king. This should prove to be interesting, at the least.