Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It all started with a whisper.

It was pretty common knowledge that Shinra had the don in their pocket, but talk of an organized plan was something new. Aerith hadn't been in Wall Market on Avalanche business, but thanks to the voices in the back of her head, she had learned to keep an ear out for anything important. And overhearing Don Corneo's minions talking about Shinra—specifically, talking about how they were hatching some kind of elaborate plot to get rid of Avalanche—certainly qualified as important.

The plan came together much more quickly than Aerith had expected, considering how risky it was. As far as she was concerned, there was only one way to get information out of Don Corneo: dress to the nines and win the auditions for some time alone with him. Thankfully, rather than trying to dissuade her, Jessie and Tifa both insisted on coming along for the ride. That way, no matter who the don picked, one of them was guaranteed to get the information they were looking for.

Still, Aerith had some concerns. She had spent the first seven years of her life in the laboratory of the most hateful excuse for a man on the planet; Jessie had sneaked down to the undercity regularly since her childhood, and knew its dark side all too well. Tifa, however, was another story. She may have run Seventh Heaven, but she hadn't grown up in Midgar, and the men in Sector 6 could get a good deal more insistent than the drunks she was used to. But Aerith kept her anxieties locked up for now. Expressing them would only make Tifa think she doubted her, and then she might try too hard to prove herself.

All worries aside, it only took a few days for them to do all the necessary research and pay all the right bribes… and, in Jessie's case, specially temper some fire materia to smuggle in and use as smoke bombs in case things went badly. Thanks to a more-than-generous donation from Avalanche's latest recruit, they even had enough gil to splurge a little instead of trying to make do with outfits they already had. (How a mercenary had made that much cash, ex-SOLDIER or not, Aerith had no idea. Maybe he was some kind of hero.)

Ready or not, tonight was the night. Aerith felt no mounting dread, but rather a strange sense of anticipation. Tonight was certain to be eventful, but gut instinct told her that not all those events would be bad, or at least that something good would come of them eventually. Aerith had long since learned to have faith in her premonitions. So had the rest of Avalanche; even the skeptical Barret knew to trust her hunches by now.

Thankfully, they assumed that her sixth sense was finely tuned, but otherwise ordinary. They didn't know the half of it, and Minerva willing, they never would. Aerith would give anything for the kind of luck that the others thought she had, or at least to be able to distinguish between her own thoughts and the faint murmurs of the planet. If she left Midgar someday, would those voices be any clearer? Or was this because she was only half Ancient?

If Aerith was traveling along this train of thought again, then waiting must have been making her more restless than she thought. She shook her head to clear it, but only gingerly, not wanting to mess up her beautifully arranged hair. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'm gonna be," answered Jessie, having finished her makeup, and turned around just quickly enough for her short skirt to spin. "How do I look?"

"Ravishing," replied Aerith, and Jessie gave a sweeping curtsy that didn't suit her (or the dress style) at all. "He'll be putty in your hands."

Jessie gave an exaggerated shudder. "Great, except I don't actually wanna touch him."

"Me neither," agreed Aerith, grimacing. "He's the kind of asshole our moms warn us about, and then some."

"Speaking of, Elmyra's not gonna worry too much, right?"

Aerith shook her head. "I told her I'll be spending the night at Tifa's." Technically, it wouldn't be a lie, as long as everything went as planned. "And you know her. She doesn't even have a cell phone, so she'll only call me if she's dealing with an emergency."

"Right."

Fidgeting with her bracelets, Aerith glanced at the clock. Tifa had been the first of them to finish dressing up, so she had gone to Seventh Heaven to check on her comatose childhood friend while Aerith and Jessie got ready. It had already been nearly half an hour since she'd left, and the chocobo carriage was coming at seven o'clock sharp. "Shouldn't Tifa be back by now?"

"She's probably chatting up that cute mercenary," said Jessie, shrugging. "I know I would, if I were her."

"Come on, anyone can see she's got a thing for Cloud," returned Aerith, nudging Jessie. "There's no way she'd sit by his bedside flirting with his best friend."

Jessie waggled her eyebrows. "So what you're saying is, Zack's free."

"Maybe." There was something in the way Zack looked from time to time, his eyes far away, that made Aerith think that he wasn't free at all, even if he didn't have a significant other somewhere. "You could always ask him, just to see how much of a shot you have."

"I would've thought you'd be interested."

"I mean…" Aerith pursed her lips, trying to think of the right words. "He's cute, and he seems really sweet, and he has to be strong if he made it through even half of what he says he did. But he also looks like he's got a lot going on right now, and honestly, so do I. Between Avalanche, the Leaf House, and my flowers, I've got more than enough to think about without any guys in the mix. So if you want dibs…"

Jessie was already shaking her head. "Nah. I like more of a challenge than that."

Aerith raised her eyebrows. "You don't think an ex-SOLDIER is enough of a challenge for you?"

"Not this ex-SOLDIER," Jessie corrected her. "He's an open book. I like going after the ones with a lot of layers."

"Even if they're hard to peel back?"

Jessie grinned. "Especially if they're hard to peel back. And besides, I'm not looking for anything serious right now, either." They both understood, even without saying it, that Zack was more boyfriend material than fling material. It was like that with most people who wore their hearts on their sleeves, Aerith found. Their emotions got involved too readily for anything casual to stay that way.

Then, on the other end of the scale, there were those who were determined to remain strangers to everyone they met. Aerith understood the appeal of mystique, but she hadn't pursued anyone like that in earnest; reality tended to fall too short of fantasy for her tastes. Daydreaming was a better use of her time than chasing after the unknown, and the stakes were much lower besides. But if someone mysterious pursued her? That might be more interesting, even if unlikely.

Aerith's train of thought derailed as footsteps sounded outside, and her heart rate shot back up again. Quickly, she pushed aside the curtain, but it was just a pair of passersby. Aerith didn't even have time to be disappointed before Jessie came up behind her. "Hey," she began, more seriously now. "You know Tifa can always tell what time it is; she won't be late. So what are you really worried about here?" Jessie crossed her arms. "You've been fretting about her ever since you suggested this, haven't you?"

Lying to Jessie was pointless. "Yeah."

"Well, so have I," said Jessie, and Aerith was about to say something like I never would have guessed before remembering abruptly that Jessie had been an aspiring actress. "I know Tifa can take care of herself, but I don't want her to have to take care of herself. So if you've got any ideas about keeping her out of danger tonight, I'm all ears."

Aerith started pacing, which was somewhat more difficult than usual in high heels, but at least it gave her some practice walking in them before she had to do it with more of an audience. Something had crossed her mind, but she hadn't let herself consider it, not wanting to abandon Jessie. But knowing that she felt the same way about the situation… "How about this? If Tifa gets picked—"

"Let's not kid ourselves," interrupted Jessie. "When Tifa gets picked."

"When Tifa gets picked," continued Aerith, smiling despite herself, "I'll volunteer to go with her."

Jessie blinked. "What?"

"What do you mean, what?" Aerith tilted her head. "You think the don will say no?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," returned Jessie, elbowing Aerith a little harder than she might have intended, but quickly pulled her back upright when she lost her balance. "I get it. Double-teaming Corneo will be more effective than a one-on-one interrogation, so I wanna say it's a good plan. But there's one thing that bugs me."

"What is it?"

Jessie grabbed Aerith by the shoulders to shake her, too gently to be serious, and her eyes were wide in mock offense. "Aren't you worried about what might happen to me?!"

"Coming from someone who leveled a mako reactor just last week?" Aerith looked Jessie up and down. "I'm more worried about everyone else in the building. But be sure to bring extra materia for yourself, just in case."

Jessie saluted. "Roger that."

With that, Tifa finally arrived, closing the door behind her, and locked it automatically. Aerith wasn't totally sure how to avoid seeming like they'd been talking about Tifa behind her back, but fortunately, Jessie took the lead. "Hey, Tifa," she greeted, bouncing up to her and slinging an arm around her shoulders. "How's Cloud? Still asleep?"

Aerith smiled. "If he woke up with Tifa looking like that, he'd just faint again right away."

Tifa rolled her eyes, but her expression was relaxed. "Yeah, he's still asleep. Nothing's changed."

"Awww," whined Jessie. "And here I was hoping for some good gossip."

"What kept you so long, then?" asked Aerith. "I was afraid you wouldn't be back in time."

"Sorry, Aerith," responded Tifa, hugging her briefly, and then straightened out both their dresses. "Biggs showed up on my way out, so I had to make some excuses."

"And you're sure he didn't catch on?" Jessie narrowed her eyes. "He's pretty sharp, and the last thing we need is the guys swooping in to stop us because it's 'too dangerous', or whatever."

"Biggs is a better actor than I am, so jury's out on whether he believed me or not, but I told him we were going for a girls' night on the town," explained Tifa. "A new nightclub just opened in Sector 8, and I've been thinking of checking it out, anyway."

"Quick thinking," said Jessie, at the same time as Aerith asked, "Really?"

Tifa nodded. "I want to see what they're serving at the bar—see if I get any ideas."

Jessie snorted. "Figures that's why you'd want to go."

"Hey, last I checked, my drinks are our most reliable source of income," shot back Tifa playfully, crossing her arms. "If I get inspired…" A sharp series of raps on the door cut her off, and the three of them tensed at once, exchanging glances.

Tifa was the first to move, taking a silent but visible deep breath and unlocking the door again. As soon as she opened it, the coachman tipped his hat. "Evening, ladies," he said, not meeting any of their eyes. "Time to go."

Morality had never been the Turks' strong suit, but crushing one-eighth of the city below them was unforgivable even by their standards.

Not that such a thing would have stopped them from following orders anyway, under ordinary circumstances, but the situation had changed. Against all odds, the Turks' rescue mission had succeeded, and in saving a certain ex-SOLDIER and his unconscious companion, they had found an opportunity to save themselves as well. After all, if anyone could bring Shinra to its knees, it was Avalanche with those two in their ranks, especially with Cissnei to act as go-between.

Of course, double agency came with more than a few risks and complications. If the Turks had any luck left—and Tseng had his suspicions to the contrary, since finding Zack had probably used up the last of it—then they'd be able to sabotage Shinra from the shadows while Avalanche drew all their attention. Otherwise, they'd have to oppose them openly, and risk their lives in so doing.

Unfortunately, that eventuality was looking more and more likely. Zack's plan had gone as well as his plans ever did, which admittedly wasn't saying much, but Avalanche's demolitions expert had used a much more potent explosive than anyone had anticipated. Whether that had been intentional or not, the end result was that Shinra had chosen to prioritize dealing with Avalanche, and also that the Turks would be called upon to act more directly than Tseng would like.

Time was running out faster than he had thought.

"That was a really big sigh," said a tentative voice, and Tseng jerked his head up to find the intern standing in the doorway. He must have been more lost in thought than usual, if she of all people had managed to sneak up on him. What was her name? Elena. "Are you okay, sir?"

Tseng gave Elena a look. If the Turks hadn't been so short-staffed, he never would have agreed to hire her. Not at a time like this, when allegiances were shifting—particularly since Elena still had a long way to go before her skills were worth her temperament. Tseng had to have a few stern words with Cissnei later. Just because Elena's older sister had been her best friend didn't mean that her gifts ran in the family. In fact, the apple couldn't have fallen much farther from the proverbial tree.

"Turks don't ask questions," said Tseng finally. "Do you have something to report?"

Elena shook her head. "I just saw that your office light was on, so I came to turn it off. I thought you'd already left; I didn't think you were still here." She tilted her head, frowning, and apparently didn't realize that she'd just said the same thing twice. "Did Don Corneo put us off again? Should I go to Sector 6 with y—?"

"Questions, Elena."

"Sorry, sir!"

Tseng let out another breath. He didn't usually struggle with procrastination, but Corneo had the dubious honor of being first on his list of pigs he'd rather shoot dead than speak to. Still, the don's characteristic hatred of commitment had bought Tseng a few days already, and it would be suspicious if the Turks didn't press the matter further. "I'm going to Sector 6," said Tseng, and before Elena could say anything, added, "Alone. Has Cissnei given you any tasks?"

"Combat training," replied Elena. "But I already finished all the simulations. You can check Hojo's records if you don't beli—"

"I believe you," interrupted Tseng. "But there's more to being a Turk than knowing your way around a battlefield. If all you can do is fight, then you may as well have applied to SOLDIER."

Elena bristled. "I can do more than fight!"

Then prove it. Tseng almost said it aloud, but swallowed the words. If he had learned anything from Reno's training period, a challenge too open would probably result in an even more egregious waste of time. But Reno hadn't needed more than a couple reminders about Turk protocol throughout all his rookie days. Elena had to learn that asking anything of Tseng would yield no answers, and he knew exactly how to make it stick this time. "Write down all the questions you want to ask me."

Caught off guard by the sudden change in subject, Elena stared at Tseng for a moment, then took a pen and a small notepad from her inside jacket pocket and started scribbling. Whatever she was writing came easily at first, but then she hesitated. Stopped dead, actually. And then, after furiously crossing out whatever she had written last, she ripped the page from the notebook and proffered it to Tseng.

As he accepted it, he noted that Elena's cheeks were now tinged the same shade of pink as the cover of her notepad, and couldn't help his sense of foreboding. What kind of questions were these, exactly…?

Where are you from?

Clearly, Elena's expression had nothing to do with that one. It wasn't unexpected that she would be curious, considering his obvious heritage, but Tseng's mother and father were the ones who had immigrated. His only personal connection to his parents' homeland came through his fluency in the language. If his later investigations into his family and its timeline was anything to go by, he had almost certainly been conceived in Wutai, but he had been born in Midgar…

How old are you?

…thirty years ago, just after the new year. The Junon Republic had fallen a few short months prior; it had only been in the wake of victory that Shinra had started encouraging immigration. Tseng had eventually learned that they had done so in order to have more citizens to conscript, in case the last remnants of the Republic rebelled. But the conflict to follow had nothing to do with Shinra's territory, and everything to do with Wutai's.

When & how did you join the Turks?

As soon as Tseng's mother and father had sensed the tensions rising, they had as good as sold him—then only thirteen—to Shinra. They had claimed that it was to protect him, but given that they had always valued his achievements so much more highly than his happiness, Tseng saw it more as a measure of self-defense. After all, they could hardly be accused of aiding their homeland if their own son was in the Department of Administrative Research.

What's your favorite color?

Tseng had to admit that Elena had caught him off guard this time, asking for the most basic possible fact after wanting more personal details. How long had it been since he had thought about something so trivial? Yet an immediate answer still rose to the forefront of his mind. Green. Healthy vegetation was hard to come by in Midgar, and even its outskirts were a wasteland. It was one of the reasons Tseng usually preferred the jobs that took him out of the region, even if some of them were dirtier than usual. (Banora came to mind.)

The last question was the one that had been thoroughly cross-hatched out. Considering Elena's lingering blush and the still-barely-legible letters ype?, Tseng surmised that she had meant to ask about his ideal partner, but had wisely thought better of it. Even had it been appropriate for him to offer a response, the answer—that he hadn't thought much about it, but that naïve young blondes were definitely at the bottom of the list—might have broken her entirely.

But it was still a more reasonable question than most others in Shinra would guess. Almost everyone assumed that the Turks were all business all the time, with no room for pleasure, and there was no real reason to correct them. The Turks had always been discouraged from forming any lasting emotional connections, including with their coworkers… but if there was anyone who understood that certain physical drives were better released than suppressed, it was President Shinra.

Tseng, too, had been known to let his hair down from time to time, so to speak. Every now and then, one of his jobs was bitter enough that even he needed a chaser. Measured intimacy for a night at a time was more than enough to keep him from feeling lonely, although he always slept alone. If he woke up next to anyone else, the closeness might smother him.

(Or, more dangerous still, he might realize what he was missing.)

But Tseng had no intention of offering Elena any responses, even to the more innocuous questions. Instead, meeting Elena's eyes, he held up the paper—and then tore it to shreds. Making a mess was often good for making a point. "From now on, save us all the trouble," he said, talking over the beginnings of a squeaked-out protest. "Every time you want to ask me something, write it down and rip it up yourself until you don't have questions for me anymore." He stared Elena down. She had gone pale. "Clear?"

Elena ducked her head. "Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

As Elena took her leave in a hurry, Tseng glanced down at the by now familiar paperwork on his desk. Once Corneo signed this, Shinra would have free and unrestricted access to all his resources in name as well as deed… and a guarantee that such a deal was exclusive, in case the don tried to turn around and sell supplies to Avalanche too. But if Tseng intended to force Corneo's hand, it would have to be with a fresh copy, given that the latter had once again conveniently misplaced it.

Slipping the papers into a generic red folder, Tseng left before he could think of any more reasons to stay behind, turning off the light and locking his office door behind him. As he walked down the hallway, he reflected on how strange it was that ink on paper could be enough to dictate who lived and who died, and under what conditions—but then he shut off his heart, and stepped into the elevator.

Chapter Text

All things considered, other than the unexpected drugging, things went quickly and more smoothly than Aerith had dared to hope.

At least their outfits were untouched, and there weren't any aches or pains to suggest that anything had happened while they were unconscious. Jessie's smoke materia hadn't even been confiscated, so that was a relief. From what Aerith recalled of the conversation between the men who had recovered them, there were harsh punishments in place for anyone who dared touch the goods before their boss had a crack at them.

It wasn't more than ten minutes before some other lackey delivered directions via intercom. That was good, because at that point, their collective nerves were close to getting the better of them. Not that any of them were having second thoughts, but being locked in a dim, dingy basement wouldn't have been relaxing even if it hadn't been full of torture devices. Given that this seemed to be an established part of the process, Don Corneo probably preferred his women on edge, even desperate.

He wouldn't know what to do with any of the three he'd gotten tonight.

As they entered a larger, more open-plan room, Aerith glanced around surreptitiously to take in her surroundings, making sure that her eyes remained wide and curious and maybe a little vacant. They shouldn't find her too suspicious if she seemed like she was in awe of the ostentatious décor, as though she'd never seen such wealth before, instead of like she was looking for potential escape routes.

"Okay, my beautiful ladies," announced a man who looked oddly familiar. Was this one of the colosseum announcers with the rhyming names? Which one was he? Aerith had only been there a couple times, since there was almost always something better to do. "Time to line up for the don!"

At least the men didn't touch them, just gestured where they should stand. Aerith knew Tifa well enough to know when she was putting on a brave face, but anyone else would think she was calm and composed. Jessie, meanwhile, looked totally at ease. This must just be another performance to her.

"All right! Y'all good to go?" The man, whose name Aerith thought might be Kotch, did not wait for an answer. "Then let's do this thing! Introducing Wall Market's most eligible bachelor—the one and only Don Corneo!"

Something was clearly supposed to happen in response to his words, but there was too long a pause for it to be intentional buildup. After a few awkward seconds, Kotch stirred in Aerith's peripheral vision, clearing his throat as if about to say something, but then hesitated. Two sets of footsteps were on their way, one significantly heavier than the other.

"Corneo," a stern baritone voice was saying. "I'm not finished with you yet."

"But I'm finished with you," retorted a second voice—higher, scratchier, somewhere between a growl and a whine. Could that really be the don…? "Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"No, it can't," returned the first voice. Both were rapidly approaching, but there was scarcely a hint of exertion in his tone. "You've put us off long enough. I'm not leaving until I get what I want."

"And I'm not giving you what you want until I get what I want," retorted the other voice, and its owner popped his head around one side of the round archway. "Ladies."

Don Corneo was short, stout, and sported the stupidest mustache Aerith had ever seen. The thought crossed her mind that he resembled what a frog might look like if transformed into a human, and she had to force her expression to stay blank, torn between laughter and disgust. Of course none of them were planning to subject themselves to Corneo's attentions in earnest, but there was always a chance that things went off track.

At least his companion was considerably easier on the eyes. Amid the ruddy light and gaudy decorations—cheap ripoffs of what Aerith guessed was supposed to be Wutaian art—he appeared to be the real deal. Clean-shaven and dressed in a sharp black suit, this man was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome… especially compared to Corneo.

As much as Aerith would rather look at this newcomer, she had no choice but to keep her eyes on Corneo as he approached, more like a goblin than a person. "Nice," he remarked, hands at the ready to grab who knew what, and crouched in front of Aerith. "Very nice." Was he trying to peek up her skirt? Not that Aerith wasn't wearing shorts under her dress, even if they covered almost as little as her underwear, but even the sleaziest men in Sector 5 didn't ogle her this obviously.

"Will it be you?" Corneo was speaking more to himself than anyone else, circling Jessie this time. Really, the look he gave her was more perfunctory than anything else, since he sidled over to Tifa almost immediately, a grin spreading across his squashed features. Tifa had worn the most provocative dress of all of them, and even though Aerith knew that she was trying to draw his attention on purpose, she hated the way he was looking at her. "Or maybe you?"

The man in the suit lay a red folder down on the desk, then took a step forward. "Corneo."

Corneo ignored him. Aerith did not. From this closer distance, she noted that the man's eyes were much more expressive than the rest of his face and positively smoldered with intensity, not that Corneo seemed to notice. Instead, the don clapped his hands. "Oh yeah! I've got it, I've got it!" Based on the direction his eyes drifted, there could be no doubt that he had chosen Tifa. "Today's bride-to-be is…"

Jessie put on a pout worthy of the stage. "Only today's, Don?"

Thankfully, nobody seemed especially offended. If anything, Corneo seemed proud, glancing sideways at Aerith and Jessie with a small but repulsive grin. "And tomorrow's, or the day after's," explained Kotch, by way of reassurance, and flashed a thumbs-up. "If the don takes a shine to you."

Narrowing her eyes at this new information, Aerith thought again of her pact with Jessie, fidgeting with her charm bracelet as subtly as possible. That would almost certainly be the fate awaiting Tifa, if anything went wrong, which meant… it was time to execute her plan. Placing her hands behind her, she leaned forward, giving Corneo a winning smile. "Why only have one bride when you could have two?"

"Aerith!" hissed Tifa, wide-eyed.

Corneo's jaw went slack at first, but then he gave a shivery little giggle, his mouth twisting in a smirk. "Ooh, I like the way you think," he said, leaning in toward Aerith much farther than was comfortable, and grasped her wrist. "Now that you mention it…"

To Aerith's surprise, the man in the suit stepped forward. "That's enough." He was speaking to Corneo, but staring at Aerith, his expression unreadable. What had caught his attention?

Corneo's grin faltered as he rolled his eyes, finally turning his head to look at the man. "Tseng," he began, his tone bypassing 'patronizing' and heading straight for condescension. "I know you're used to being in charge of the Turks, but this is Wall Market, and my word is law here."

Aerith pressed her lips together. It was just her luck that this Tseng was no ordinary Shinra employee, or even an ordinary Turk, but the leader of the division originally tasked with tracking her down. Hopefully, fifteen years would be long enough for the search to have been called off. "But if you insist, I'm prepared to make a deal," continued Corneo, jerking his head to indicate Jessie. "If I give you this one, will you come back tomorrow?"

Tseng crossed his arms. "I'll leave our discussion until tomorrow on two conditions."

"Name 'em."

"First, you sign those papers now, as a gesture of good faith," said Tseng. "And secondly, I'll take…" He looked directly at Aerith again, and her heart skipped a beat. Shit. There was absolutely no way that he didn't know who she was. "Aerith, was it?"

Lying to a Turk was inadvisable at best. Aerith dipped her head haltingly, unsure what else to do, and prayed that she hadn't just consigned herself to a life in the Science Department. She could think of worse fates than being taken aside by someone easily a hundred times more handsome than Corneo, but considering their respective positions, it was too much to hope that he was acting in his own interests rather than Shinra's.

Corneo let out a growl that smelled like mint and cigars. "Fine," he snapped, releasing Aerith abruptly. Moving to the desk, Corneo opened the folder and signed the papers with unnecessary vehemence, then slammed the folder shut on top of them.

As Tseng calmly walked over to straighten them out, Corneo bounced over to Tifa, his mood much improved, and grasped her hand to lead her forward. "All right, I've decided! Today's lucky ladies are this buxom beauty and this curious kitten!" He moved to take Jessie's hand as well, but paused to address his toadies in the background. "Tell the boys I'm sorry there's no consolation prize tonight, but I'll make it up to them tomorrow." Corneo shot Tseng a dirty look. "And make sure they know who to blame."

Kotch glowered, speaking over the noises of disappointment from the assembled lackeys. "Will do, boss."

As Corneo put his arms around Jessie's and Tifa's waists, her friends both glanced back at her, and Aerith gave them a very small nod of reassurance. Considering the fact that both of them were better experienced in combat than Aerith, this was actually the best-case scenario. (For them, at least. Aerith's own fate had yet to be determined.)

Once Corneo disappeared through the door, Tifa and Jessie in tow, Aerith took the chance to scrutinize Tseng, now that he was standing in the warm lamplight. She had of course already seen that his hair was straight and black, not a strand out of place, but now noticed that it was almost as long as her own. His eyes, framed by unfairly long eyelashes, were a lighter shade of brown than she had initially thought. There was a dot in the center of his forehead, too perfectly centered to be a birthmark. And his ears, unlike Aerith's, were pierced.

Aerith considered herself good at discerning motivations, but Tseng gave no outward sign of his thinking. Even the way he looked at her seemed more like he was looking through her, or past her, to some unfathomable goal. "Follow me," was all Tseng said, and even though he did not so much as touch her, Aerith felt that she had no choice but to obey.

Despite seeming out-of-place here, Tseng must have known this mansion well, because his steps were so decisive. After leading Aerith through a few hallways to a specific room, he gestured for her to enter first, which she did, and closed the door behind them. No lock clicked into place, but that was the only exit, and Tseng lingered so near it that there could be no escape.

Looking around, Aerith found that this place looked less like a bedroom and more like another waiting room of some sort. She supposed that the sofa was wide enough to serve as a bed if that really was what Tseng was after, but she couldn't shake the feeling that, as a Turk, he wanted something else from her.

Yet he said nothing. Of all the things he could have said to unsettle Aerith, saying nothing was most alarming of all. He only stood there, arms crossed, observing her from a distance. His expression held no hint of either malice or curiosity, but being regarded so impassively was nearly as unsettling as being leered at. Perhaps more so, since it gave Aerith nothing to use as leverage.

Finally, Aerith broke the silence. "Your name is Tseng, right?" Just to be sure.

"Yes."

So Tseng wasn't giving her the silent treatment. That made his not saying anything all the more confusing, but there were more important things to worry about for now. "Are you in the market for a bride, too?"

"No. I wanted to talk to you."

Then Aerith's hunch was right, as usual. There were only so many things that Tseng could want to discuss with her, and it would be better if they did it elsewhere. This place gave her the creeps, and as concerned as she was for Tifa and Jessie, they were unlikely to need her backup—especially since the plan for those not interrogating Corneo had always been simply to run away. "If that's the case, I have a request."

Tseng crossed his arms. "You're not in much of a position to be asking favors."

"I know." Aerith had to muster all her courage to meet Tseng's piercing eyes. "But if you want to talk, I don't think it's a good idea to do it in a place like this. And if you don't like the don or his henchmen, either, then… maybe we could just leave?"

Tseng looked at Aerith for a moment longer, his expression unchanging. Was he always this dispassionate? It piqued her curiosity. "Tell me one thing first," said Tseng, leaning against the door. "Why are you really here?"

Aerith hesitated, but knew that she had no choice but to answer him, and there weren't many believable lies. From the research they'd done, most of Corneo's prospective brides didn't actually know each other ahead of time, hence some of the bribes they'd paid the coachman. "My friends and I have a few questions for the don," replied Aerith finally, hoping that Tseng didn't need any further details. "We wanted to make sure we could ask them."

After a brief pause, Tseng inclined his head and opened the door. "Then let's go."

It was as simple as that, apparently. As they made their way through the corridors, Aerith stayed as close to Tseng as she dared, half expecting to be ambushed, but they made it all the way to the courtyard without incident.

"Kyle," said Tseng, even before they had stepped through the doorway, and the silver-haired young man standing guard at the doors looked up. "If you see tonight's other brides running away, make sure they don't run into any more trouble than they have to."

Kyle's only response was a short nod, so quick that Aerith nearly missed it, before he turned and started unbarring the double doors. Aerith, meanwhile, looked up at Tseng. Why was he helping her? She didn't dare ask something like that yet, so she settled for her second point of confusion. "I thought you weren't one of the don's men."

"Neither is he." That provided far more questions than answers, considering that this Kyle was the mansion gatekeeper, but there wasn't time to ask them. Aerith could only be grateful for the help, even if it was tempered by bewilderment at why the head of the Turks was going out of his way to secure assistance.

The double doors had just finished swinging open when a half-familiar voice called out from behind them. "You!" If Kotch was around, then it followed that his partner in commentary at the arena would be, too. Scotch's name was a bit more memorable, if only because it was also something on Seventh Heaven's menu. Accompanied by his own cronies, he was glaring at Tseng. "I heard about the shit you pulled tonight."

"Talk to Corneo," said Tseng, unmoved. "He could have left you one, and he didn't."

"Yeah, well, Corneo's the boss," shot back Scotch, scowling, and positioned himself firmly between Tseng and the double doors. "You're just a Shinra lapdog."

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you," returned Tseng. "Or have you forgotten who owns your boss?"

Scotch and Tseng locked eyes and did not look away, and there was a moment of breathless tension. The stillness shattered when one of the men with Scotch tried to lunge forward and grab Aerith's wrist, but she was on too high alert to be caught off guard. This was hardly a good outfit for a fight, and she didn't have her staff with her, but she at least knew how to slip a grasp like that.

Tseng narrowed his eyes, drawing Aerith closer more in a display of possessiveness than in a gesture of comfort. Still, Aerith found that she felt better with his fingers on the crook of her waist than she had with some distance between them. Whatever plans Tseng might have had for her tonight, the first step was getting her out of this place in one piece, which was far preferable to what these men wanted from her. "Now, if you'll excuse us."

Scotch curled his hands into fists. "What makes you think we'll just—"

"Step aside." Tseng's icy voice cut through the air, and Aerith shivered. Hopefully he would never have cause to use that tone on her.

With evident reluctance, Scotch and his men backed away, though Aerith could still feel their eyes burning into her with as much hate as lust. Keeping one hand on the small of her back, Tseng swept her through the open doors and out into the late-autumn night—and didn't withdraw it, even as they left the mansion far behind.

Chapter Text

Tseng had never anticipated finding the specimen from Shinra's legendary cold case, but it seemed that he still had some good fortune left after all.

He had never been directly assigned to the Ancient's recovery, having still been in training at the time of her disappearance, but he had studied the case in enough detail that he recalled most specifics—perhaps more than Aerith herself. He had never been a betting man, but he would still wager that she remembered little of her childhood, traumatic as it was, and that she may have distanced herself from anything related to her ancestry. Beyond that, Tseng could guess little, and speculation was useless.

There were more love hotels in Sector Six than Tseng cared to count, but the one he chose was one of the more upscale ones. For one thing, he didn't have to deal with any nosy receptionists; the room selection process was entirely automated. For another, soundproof walls were invaluable not only for preserving his own sanity, but also for concealing the nature of what they were to talk about.

Even an hour here cost quite a bit, but this qualified as a work expense, so it wouldn't prove much of a problem. He'd just have to make sure to log tonight well enough that no one would think that he was siphoning Shinra funds to visit the red-light district for pleasure.

When they arrived at their chosen room, Tseng motioned for Aerith to enter first. As she stepped inside, the way she cast her gaze around made him think at first that she was checking for potential escape routes, but then he noticed her eyes gleaming in the dim and colorful lighting, as inquisitive as they were apprehensive.

Following, Tseng closed the door behind him, and Aerith glanced at him sideways as she seated herself on the dark bed. She seemed much more composed than he anticipated, even self-assured. It was not the reaction that he had expected, but from what little he could tell, Aerith seemed at home in strange situations. Anyone who put herself at risk in such a way just to ask some questions had to be.

Again, Aerith spoke first—but only after reapplying her lip gloss, retrieved from a pouch somewhere under her skirt. "You wanted to talk?" she asked, looking at Tseng once more, and he inclined his head. "What about?"

There was no way that Aerith didn't already know, but Tseng wasn't here for guessing games, so he opted for the direct route. "You."

Aerith pointed to herself, as though there was anyone else in the room. "Me?"

"Yes, you." Tseng leaned against the wall nearest Aerith. "You remind me of a story I heard once."

"What story is that?"

"A little over twenty years ago, Shinra took an Ancient woman and her newborn daughter into custody," said Tseng, and though Aerith's mouth tightened, her eyes remained veiled. "Some years later, the Ancient took her daughter and fled the Science Department. The mother was killed during her escape, but the child went missing, and the trail went cold." Tseng fell silent for a moment, studying Aerith's face. She said nothing, but avoided looking at him. "Have you heard that story before?"

"No."

To Aerith's credit, she managed to meet his eyes as she spoke, but her gaze wavered just enough that Tseng did not have to look at her for more than a split second to know that she was lying. "I assumed you'd understand that I expect your cooperation as repayment for my help in your little mission," he said, taking a couple steps toward her. "If you'd rather do this the hard way…"

Aerith only tilted her head, looking up at him sideways. "I don't know," she said, and mingling with the wariness in her eyes was more curiosity than Tseng anticipated. "Tell me about the hard way first, and then I'll decide."

Tseng quirked an eyebrow. It was obvious that Aerith was trying to pull things into more physical territory, though the only reason that came to mind was as an exchange for her safety. Maybe he had better play along for now, if only to see what he was working with, and what she had in mind. "You like it rough?"

Aerith hummed. "Depends on how rough."

"Noted," said Tseng. "But I don't think you'll like the kind I have in mind."

For a moment, Aerith weighed her options, then took a deep breath and met Tseng's eyes. "Okay, fine. I've heard that story before, but I don't remember living it." She hugged her arms to herself. "Maybe my mother was… special, but I'm just a normal girl."

"A normal girl?" echoed Tseng, disbelieving. "You're the last surviving Ancient and, judging by the company you keep, you're affiliated with Avalanche. 'Normal' is the last word I would use to describe you."

There was a short, but telling, silence.

"They said you're a Turk," murmured Aerith, with an air of expecting the worst, though her countenance remained calm. Tseng was impressed despite himself; she was cooler under pressure than at least two Turks that he could mention. "What are you going to do with me?"

Tseng looked at Aerith for a long moment. Even the fact that she knew to fear the Turks was akin to an admission of guilt—inasmuch as anyone could be guilty for the circumstances of their birth, and for trying to stay alive. But Tseng wasn't prepared to take her into custody; his main goal had just been to confirm that she was the same 'Aerith' the Turks were looking for. Beyond that, his own loyalties were complicated enough that he hadn't chosen a course of action. "I haven't decided."

"Oh, really?" Aerith gave a small and secretive smile. "I have a couple ideas."

"Such as?"

Slowly, Aerith rose. "Come over here and you'll find out."

Tseng wasn't accustomed to being flirted with, but he wasn't about to turn down a challenge that clear, either. As he moved to stand directly before Aerith, she slid her hands up his torso, experimentally, as though it had been some time since she had touched a man. The sensation was… not unwelcome, but Aerith's reasoning was still suspect. "Are you doing this because you think it'll earn you favors?"

"Not really," replied Aerith, resting a hand briefly over Tseng's heart, but withdrew it herself before he could brush it away. "Believe it or not, I'm doing this because I want to. You may be a Turk, but you're good-looking, and you did help us out back there." She paused, her eyes lingering on Tseng's face. "Besides, it'd be a shame if I didn't get to have any fun tonight after dressing up like this."

That wasn't on Tseng's very short list of expectations, either, even if he had long since learned not to let his emotions show. Those who thought him attractive, and weren't paid to think so, usually kept their distance and watched him out of the corners of their eyes, as intimidated as they were entranced. Not so Aerith, apparently fearless, as she pushed herself up on her tiptoes. "This is the part where you kiss me," she added in a stage whisper.

The proposition was much more tempting than it should have been, given the way that Tseng's week had gone—he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in pleasant distractions—but things like this were never that simple. Besides that, involving himself personally with a wanted specimen was a terrible idea. "I'm on duty."

Aerith pushed her lower lip into a pout, but she didn't look like she was intentionally trying to seem more alluring. It was just an instinctive, if childish, sign of disappointment. "Until when?"

"Until I decide to take a break."

"Is this your way of turning me down?" Aerith raised her eyebrows. "You can just say you're not interested, you know."

That gave Tseng some pause. His level of interest was not only undecided, but irrelevant: if he turned Aerith down now, he felt that he would close a window of opportunity that may never open again. Besides, as the saying went, one could catch more flies with honey than vinegar. It may yet benefit Tseng to stay on her good side. "It isn't an excuse, if that's what you're asking."

Aerith smiled. "Then prove it. Take a break."

"Do you always offer your time to complete strangers?"

"I do when they look like they just stepped out of an erotic novel," replied Aerith. "Or if they save me from some ogre's den. You just happen to be the first to check both those boxes."

Aerith's frankness was disarming, but refreshing. Tseng felt the corner of his mouth twitch in a tiny smile—more than he usually allowed anyone outside the Turks. "If I tried to live up to that impression, you'd end up with a very different one before the night was out."

"Then I guess I'll just have to see where my imagination takes me," responded Aerith, her own smile taking a turn for the wry as well. "If your mind is already made up, then I should probably head home. If my mom hears about this, she's going to kill me before you can."

"I have no intention of killing you." That much was true, no matter what else may happen.

"Maybe it'd be safer to spend the night with you, then."

Tseng could guess from Aerith's ironic smile that she was joking, but given the way that she had been talking earlier, it was likely only half a joke. It also meant that Tseng had better change the subject sooner rather than later. "I'll escort you home."

"What a gentleman," remarked Aerith. "You're not about to kidnap me, are you?"

Tseng almost laughed. Abducting Aerith would be far more trouble than it was worth. For one thing, it would be better if he had more of an idea about why Shinra was really interested in Ifalna's daughter. Searching for some mythical Promised Land seemed like a fool's errand; there must be more to it than that.

Besides, thanks to a certain mercenary, Tseng's moral compass seemed to have been functioning better lately—well enough that he didn't want to bring Aerith in until he knew more about what was going to be needed from her. Even if she was allied with Avalanche, there were better ways of apprehending her than just hauling her into the Shinra building.

"No," said Tseng finally. "I don't think so."

"Then let's go." Aerith slid past Tseng, unnecessarily close, and led the way back out the door. Tseng found himself watching her for a moment before bringing up the rear. "I live in Sector 7, so it's not that long a trip."

They didn't speak for some time, making their way silently out of the love hotel and through Sector 6 to the outskirts. All the while, Tseng kept watch for any of Corneo's men who might be looking for tonight's fugitives, but thankfully, no one seemed in more of a hurry than usual. The other two must have been keeping them busy elsewhere, if they hadn't fled the mansion yet.

As soon as they left the more reliably paved streets of Wall Market, Aerith stopped. Tseng was about to ask why when she slipped off her shoes and carried them, hiking up the floor-length half of her skirt for good measure. Maybe it was because he hadn't expected her to do that, but his eyes lingered on her legs a little longer than he intended. "You're walking the rest of the way barefoot?"

Aerith shrugged. "We only have a few miles before I'm home, and my outfit's worth more than I am. If you don't like it, you can carry me." And she started walking again, as heedless of Tseng and his possible responses as she was of the dust and potentially shrapnel under her feet.

Definitely not a normal girl.

The rest of their journey was spent in silence, from the in-between roads to Sector 7 itself. They came to a halt just outside… what did that sign say? The lights illuminating it were broken, and the paint on the sign was faded, but it looked like it read 'Stargazer Heights'. A saccharine name for a slum apartment, but Tseng supposed that its residents preferred not to think too much about their circumstances.

Somewhat awkwardly, Aerith turned to Tseng and looked up at him. She seemed shyer than before, somehow, like she was hiding something. "Well, here we are. Home sweet home." She waited. Tseng didn't move. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Yes, but I'll see you safely inside first," replied Tseng, mostly because he wanted to know whether this really was Aerith's residence or whether she was trying to mislead him.

Aerith pressed her lips together, then let out a short breath through her nose. That was it, after all. At least she recognized when she had been backed into a corner. "I want you to promise you won't hurt my friends," said Aerith, meeting Tseng's eyes. "And that you won't tell Shinra where to find them."

"I promise."

Aerith blinked. "You… do?"

Tseng inclined his head slightly. Being leader of the Turks meant knowing which hills were worth dying on, and it wasn't as though the Turks were known for their sense of honor, anyway. Most promises were only made to be broken, and besides, there was one more thing he wanted to ask while he had the chance. (Not that he intended this meeting to be their last.) "But in exchange, I want you to answer one question."

"What's that?"

"Do you know anything about the Promised Land?"

"The… what?" Aerith looked genuinely confused. "It's the Ancients' version of heaven, right? Some legendary land of plenty they reach after they die."

"Do you not believe it exists?"

"Of course it doesn't exist," replied Aerith, with honest immediacy. "It's just a fairy tale."

Tseng nodded. That was in keeping with his own opinion, which made it all the more puzzling as to why Shinra was taking it so seriously.

With this last exchange complete, Aerith approached one of the apartment doors and rapped on it—four sets of two quick knocks, then two spaced out, in a clear signal. Almost immediately, the door opened to reveal the darker-haired of Don Corneo's brides, now wearing street clothes. "Aerith!" she was already exclaiming, but upon noticing Tseng's presence, came outside and stood between them, spreading her arms protectively. "You."

Unexpectedly, Aerith shook her head, resting her hand on her friend's shoulder. "No, it's okay."

"What's going—?" began another voice, and Tseng looked at the door to find the other of Corneo's brides approaching, also wearing an ordinary outfit. From the looks of things, she had just had a shower, and was in the midst of drying her hair furiously with a towel, though stopped dead as she caught sight of Tseng. "You!"

"He has a name," pointed out Aerith. "It's Tseng."

"Yeah?" The girl with the towel had fixed Tseng with a fierce glare. "Is he a friend?"

"For now." Aerith turned to Tseng, meeting his eyes without hesitation this time. Hers were full of an emotion he couldn't pinpoint from this distance, in this light. Sincerity? "Thanks for taking me home. I can handle it from here."

Tseng dipped his head in response, turning away just as Aerith's friends hustled her through their door and closed it sharply behind her. It was to no one in particular that he voiced his reply: "Good night, Aerith."

After spending an uncomfortable night (or what remained of it) on the office couch, since there was no point in going home when he'd have to come back to work in a few more hours, Tseng awoke just after sunrise to the sensation of a metal rod poking into his ribs.

"Hey, Boss," said Reno's voice, and Tseng reluctantly opened his eyes to find him grinning down at him. Of all the sights he wanted to see first thing in the morning, this may have ranked lower than the fires of hell. "Pretty rare to catch you snoring at this hour."

"Reno," returned Tseng, getting to his feet with a faint groan and stretching. Once he felt slightly less stiff, he headed over to his private coffee pot to reheat what little in it was left, leaving Reno to trail after him like a dog looking for scraps. "What do you want?"

"Orders for what I should do next," replied Reno, giving a flippant salute. "And maybe some reason I shouldn't tease the ever-loving fuck out of you for booking a room in a love hotel last night." Tseng rubbed his forehead in his hand. Out of all the Turks, Reno had the most of a knack for ferreting out secrets, if only because he tended to be everywhere at once. "Come on. Who was she?"

Tseng sighed. "Why were you in the red-light district?"

"Oh, sure, dodge the question," returned Reno, grin widening. "I was done with work for the day, and Rude was busy, so I went to see if you needed a little backup." He snickered. "I bet you could've used some."

At this point, the only way to push Reno off this subject was to answer his earlier question. "She's the Ancient from the cold case, Reno." Tseng spoke slowly, letting every word sink in. "I was asking her some questions."

Reno's smile finally vanished. "It's really her?"

How many women named Aerith do you know? Reno was better than most at agitating Tseng to the point that he felt like being sarcastic, but he bit back the rhetorical question. "The name and description are both perfect matches."

"How'd you find her after fifteen years, anyway?"

"Coincidence," replied Tseng. "She was one of Corneo's brides-to-be."

Reno whistled. "No wonder you took her away yourself."

"The other two were friends of hers," continued Tseng, ignoring Reno's implications. "Avalanche. They had some questions for the don, apparently, and double-teamed him once I took Aerith away. It's safe to say they'll be informing the rest of Avalanche about the plan to drop the plate."

"Damn," remarked Reno, more impressed than anything else. "Avalanche, huh? What are the odds?"

"More importantly, this is our chance," said Tseng, pouring some newly reheated coffee into a clean mug. "As far as anyone in Shinra is concerned, Avalanche knows nothing, and 'Aerith' is just a name in a cold case file. It's not the Turks' problem if they unravel the plan on their own."

A spark of excitement had ignited in Reno's eyes. "So what I'm hearing is, we're finally making our move."

"In a manner of speaking." Tseng met Reno's gaze with utmost seriousness. "We're still waiting and watching; it's just that the playing field is more interesting now. Do what Shinra asks of you, but no more than that, and keep any extra information close to the chest." He tweaked the blinds to let some early-morning sunlight in, thinking far ahead. "Ideally, Avalanche will deal with Shinra during the plate drop, and we won't be called to oppose them."

"And if we are?"

Tseng took a sip of his coffee. "We'll take them alive."

Chapter Text

Aerith had some explaining to do.

As soon as she got through the door, Tifa pulled her into a quick hug. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," replied Aerith, accepting a hug from Jessie as well. "Nothing happened. Tseng just asked me a few questions—nothing about Avalanche, don't worry—and let me go." She looked between her friends; theirs was the more pressing information. "What about you two? Did you get the intel?"

Jessie's mouth tightened. "Shinra's gonna drop the plate on Sector 7."

Even the words seemed to hit as hard as the plate itself would, and Aerith's heart stopped. The sound faded in her ears so that she wasn't sure whether she actually said what or just thought it, endlessly, the only word in her head. She knew better than most the depths to which Shinra would stoop in pursuit of their arbitrary desires, but she hadn't thought them capable of killing off one-eighth of their own city's population just to be rid of Avalanche.

"At least, that's what they're planning," Tifa was saying, eyes dark and voice heavy, when Aerith tuned back in. "Corneo said it'd be 'soon', but didn't know anything about the exact timing, and I don't think he'd lie about that after the kinds of threats we made. Our next mission is to figure that out and evacuate everyone before they can pull it off."

Maybe, in this case, being acquainted with a Turk would come in handy. "Tseng might know."

"Yeah, about that," said Jessie, peering at Aerith a little more closely. "You said he didn't ask about Avalanche, but Corneo called him a Turk. There's no way he'd help us out, unless…" She gave Aerith a significant look, more curious than disapproving.

Aerith sighed. "I felt it out, but he's a Turk. Being immune to feminine wiles is probably in the job description." (Which might have been a good thing, actually, considering that Aerith had meant every word she'd said.)

Jessie gave a thoughtful hum. "Well, it's not like we were counting on his help anyway, so no harm done."

"Yeah, I guess not," returned Aerith, but her mind was racing. Tseng had said that he would leave the matter 'until tomorrow'. Maybe he would be back in Wall Market to collect the papers, or talk to Corneo, or something. Aerith would just have to stake out the place and hope that her street clothes were different enough that no one thought she looked familiar.

"So…" Tifa was studying Aerith's expression. "If he wasn't asking about Avalanche, and he wasn't looking for… something else, then what did he want with you?"

Aerith pursed her lips. Ever since her adoption, she had buried the details of her past as deeply as possible and left them as far behind her as she could. As far as anyone in Avalanche knew, Aerith had been one of many children orphaned in the Wutai War, and she'd been taken in by a similarly bereft widow. They knew nothing of Aerith's real origins, let alone the whispers that filled the corners of her mind—the whispers that had told her that Elmyra had been widowed.

If Aerith wanted to explain what Tseng wanted with her, then she'd have to start from scratch, and there just wasn't time right now. Besides, Tifa and Jessie had more than enough to worry about already. "He thought I might be involved in some cold case from a long time ago," said Aerith finally, and Tifa dipped her head, evidently content to leave it at that. Good. "So… what's the plan?"

"For now? Get some sleep." Jessie stretched. "I'm not gonna be any use to anyone the way I am now."

Tifa shook her head. "I'm not going to be able to sleep till I do something. Anything."

Aerith frowned. "At this hour?"

"I might not be able to spread the news right now, but I can at least go for a late-night jog and think about where to start," responded Tifa. "Back when Shinra destroyed my hometown, I couldn't do anything, but this time will be different. It has to be." Her hands had curled into fists, her knuckles whitening, and she was staring fixedly at the wall as though looking for its weaknesses.

Jessie nodded. "Soon as I get home, I'm gonna talk to the girls—see if I can get them to believe me." That was the way she always referred to her roommates; Aerith didn't remember ever having learned the girls' individual names. "Between the four of them, they know just about everyone in the sector, so they can help us get the word out. It won't just be Avalanche's word against Shinra's."

Aerith rested her hand on Tifa's fist, and felt her try to relax. "It'll be all right, Tifa," she said, hoping that she sounded confident enough to reassure her. "We won't just roll over and give Shinra whatever they want." She chose not to mention that there was no real way to stop them from dropping the plate, but Avalanche could at least keep casualties to a minimum. Tifa already knew that; saying it wouldn't help.

Tifa let out a long breath. Her face was still tight and drawn, but she seemed at least a little less pale. "Thanks, you two."

"If you two can get the guys on board and start convincing the people in Sector 7," continued Aerith, glancing at Jessie, "I can look into escape routes and safe houses. I work in Sector 8; I bet I can find some places." And, she added to herself, she was going to be back in Sector 6 tomorrow.

"Good call," said Jessie approvingly.

"Yeah," agreed Tifa, her hand already resting on the doorknob. "Be back in a bit." With that, she stepped outside, closing the door quietly and locking it behind her. Back in the Science Department, the click of a lock from the outside had always made Aerith feel trapped. In the slums, it made her feel safe.

"Now, let's get you out of that dress so you can get washed up and go to bed," said Jessie, and Aerith glanced down at herself. She had completely forgotten that she'd been having this entire conversation in all her borrowed finery, but somehow, the mismatch suited the chaos in her head. "We'll be lucky to get a few hours of rest."

It was hard to believe that Aerith had been in Wall Market just twelve hours ago.

Sector 6 was hardly less busy during the day than the night, which was a good thing, since Aerith was on high alert for anyone who looked like Corneo's men or seemed to be searching for someone. Still, keeping her nerves in check was more easily said than done, especially as she got closer to the don's mansion to seek out a good vantage point for the front gate. It didn't seem to be any more heavily guarded than usual; hopefully, that meant that Jessie and Tifa had put some of them out of commission last night.

Keeping an eye out for any developments was too stressful to be boring, but the first hour was well spent—the next one less so, since she was beginning to second-guess herself. Just as Aerith was beginning to seriously worry about Tseng having used some kind of secret passageway instead of coming in through the only visible entrance, the gate opened. Aerith scarcely had time to get her hopes up before they sank again; it was the gatekeeper, Kyle, out for… some reason.

Tseng's words from last night resurfaced in Aerith's mind, and she pursed her lips. Kyle wasn't one of Corneo's lackeys, so she might be able to ask him about Tseng. After one last hesitation, she stepped subtly out of the shadows in the alley to let Kyle see her.

He caught sight of her almost instantly, but stared at her blankly for such a long moment that she wondered if he even recognized her. She did look pretty different in the daylight, after all. But eventually, he offered her a subtle nod, taking out a cigarette and lighting it like nothing was different. Whatever reason he had for stepping outside the mansion courtyard, he could take care of it after a smoke break.

Finally, after making sure the gate was chained up behind him, he approached the alleyway, half-spent cigarette between his fingers.

"I'm looking for Tseng," began Aerith, getting right to the point. "Has he been here today?"

Kyle took a long drag and gave her an appraising look. "How badly do you wanna know?" But even as Aerith pulled out her bribery money, somewhat depleted since yesterday evening, he put up his free hand. "Keep it; I was just curious. As far as I know, Tseng hasn't dropped by yet, but you really shouldn't be talking to him anyway."

Aerith narrowed her eyes. Not that she particularly disagreed, but on principle, she didn't appreciate being told what to do, especially by someone who looked to be her age. In fact, with his features more visible in the daylight, he looked like he could actually be younger than her. "Why not?"

"He's with Shinra," replied Kyle slowly, with an air of stating the obvious, and Aerith waved away the smoke of his exhalation. "Whatever he's up to, you should stay out of it."

Agitated, Aerith threw caution to the winds, though kept her voice down. "Shinra's about to drop the plate on Sector 7."

Kyle raised his eyebrows as though to ask if Aerith was serious, but then shrugged, albeit with a seeming effort. "It's none of my business."

"None of your—?!" Aerith had to cut herself off before she spoke too loudly, forcing her voice into a hiss. "Do you think they won't hit Sector 6 next?"

"Do you think Tseng has nothing to do with it?" countered Kyle. "He's a Turk. Whatever reasons he might've had for intervening with Corneo's audition last night, they're not going to protect you or your friends in the long run." Another drag. "You're Avalanche; you know how Shinra is, the Turks included. None of them do anything unless it benefits them. What makes you think you'll be an exception?"

"I've been an exception to Shinra's rules since the day I was born," shot back Aerith, low and fierce. "I've got a few things that the Turks might find valuable enough to trade for what I want. And that's what's none of your business."

"Right," said Kyle, plainly unconvinced. "Either way, you should get lost and stay that way. Bad things happen to women who defy the don, and I don't know if anyone's ever crossed him the way you and your friends did last night. If he gets wind you're in the area, there'll be nothing I can do." Pointedly, he dropped what little remained of his cigarette and stamped it out.

Kyle's words could have been taken as a threat, especially with that gesture, but the look in his eyes was just earnest enough—mingling with what seemed to be a personal kind of frustration—that Aerith chose to take them at face value. "Thanks for the warning."

Although Kyle's only response was a curt nod, he seemed faintly relieved as he left the alley. Aerith headed in the opposite direction, trying to recalibrate. If Tseng wasn't here after all, then she must have missed him, which meant that she no longer had any leads on his whereabouts.

Peering around the corner, Aerith spotted a group of vaguely familiar thugs along the main stretch. Corneo's men? Some of them seemed a little the worse for wear, at least, but Aerith wasn't willing to chance heading out into the open yet. Crowds meant safety, but if she could avoid being spotted altogether, then she wouldn't need that.

"Aerith."

Aerith jumped, whirling around to find… Tseng. Her senses were sharper than most, yet he'd still managed to sneak up on her. How long had he been there? "Tseng," she managed, glad that her voice was steady. The last thing she wanted was to seem off-balance in front of a Turk. "Perfect timing. I have a few questions."

"What makes you think I'll give you any answers?" Tseng spoke as coolly as if this were a completely normal conversation. Expected, even. "Don't tell me you mean to exchange yourself for information."

"Only as a last resort." It had never been Aerith's intention to offer a straight trade.

"Good," said Tseng unexpectedly. "All things considered, you're much more valuable than the intel I have." Aerith raised her eyebrows. If a Turk was showing his hand like that, then the projected benefit must have been greater than the cost. Of course, there was a slim possibility that this was a show of good faith, but even if Aerith's belief in altruism had managed to survive the Science Department, life in the slums would have beaten it out of her.

"If you're interested in bartering," continued Tseng, "I'll accept a favor of my choosing at a later date in exchange for each question you ask me—with the added guarantee that I will not request your compliance in returning to Shinra."

Aerith had to admit that she hadn't anticipated such a good bargain. Owing anyone in Shinra undisclosed favors was more than a little dangerous, especially when it came to the Turks, but deals were made to be broken. "Then you'll tell me what I want to know?"

"If I can tell you, yes." Tseng lowered his voice. Now Aerith was the one leaning closer to hear. "But let slip to anyone where you heard any of this, and it's straight back to the Science Department with you—for however long Hojo wants to keep you there, and for whatever purposes." He gazed into Aerith's eyes; his own were unclouded. Merciless. That was the word. "Are we clear?"

Aerith shuddered. "Crystal."

"Good." Tseng removed his suit jacket, then quickly turned it inside out and swung it around Aerith's shoulders. Automatically, she caught it to keep it from sliding to the ground, examining it to find that it was apparently reversible. By the time she looked back up again for an explanation, Tseng was arranging his hair in a low ponytail, keeping one lock of straight black hair artfully free to half frame his face. What was he doing? "But first… I have a question for you, too."

"Uh…" Tseng had only taken off a layer and put his hair up, but his entire body language had changed so that he looked like a totally different person. It was harder to think than Aerith liked to admit, and she could feel her eyes darting all around his face. "Yeah?"

"Why did you come back to Sector 6 so soon instead of lying low?" As he spoke, Tseng stepped forward, and Aerith could only take one step back before she hit the wall. "I'd have thought someone who managed to escape Shinra would be smarter than that."

That stung a little, but Aerith couldn't afford to lose time being defensive, especially since her thoughts were already so scattered. "I was looking for you, actually," replied Aerith, hating the fact that her nerves made her sound like she was lying. "So that I can ask you questions. Which you just said I could do, so that shouldn't be a problem, right?" She wrung her hands, at a loss for what else to do with them, and her bracelets clinked softly. "Now, can you back off a little?"

"You weren't this shy last night," remarked Tseng, leaning all the closer instead. His dry amusement and the soft tips of his hair brushed against Aerith's skin, and she suppressed a shiver with difficulty. "Don't worry. I'll 'back off a little' once the don's men are gone."

Unconsciously, Aerith started turning her head to glance at the alley entrance, but Tseng's gloved hand touched her cheek to hold her still, and she froze. He was warmer than she expected, for someone so cold. "No; look at me. They might see you otherwise." He lowered his head, and Aerith braced herself to feel his lips on her neck, but he stopped just short. "Now, ask your questions. Quietly."

Nearly reeling from the discrepancy between what Tseng was saying and how he was acting, Aerith scrambled to gather her words. This was an act—just an act, so that no passersby would look too closely at them. She could do this. Tentatively, she rested a hand on the back of Tseng's head, as if encouraging him, and hooked one of her legs around his to keep him close. "How long do we have before the plate drops?"

"Shinra usually takes about a week to process paperwork."

The phrasing struck Aerith as deliberate. "Even when it's important?"

Working his way toward her ear, Tseng gave a low hum of affirmation, and Aerith's skin prickled; she could practically feel the vibration of his throat. "The documents might be filled out and submitted more quickly, but taking into account the time a plan takes to set in motion, a week is still standard before any action is taken."

Aerith nodded, more than a little distracted. One week. They had seven days, maximum, to get everyone safely out of Sector 7. That was the crux of the matter, but Aerith had one other question—less important to Avalanche, maybe, but twice as important to her. "Why are you telling me this?"

Tseng mulled over Aerith's words for a moment. "Because, believe it or not, your interests align with mine."

Again, Tseng's wording gave Aerith pause. "How so?"

"Do you really want to owe me a fourth favor for the sake of your curiosity?"

Well, it had been worth a shot. "Not really," replied Aerith, making a mental note that this was where Tseng had drawn the line. "Three is enough. Just make sure they're small enough that I can do them." On an impulse, she dared to tug Tseng's silky hair out of his ponytail, and his breath caught. When he glanced up at her, eyes narrowed, Aerith flicked the band far away and gave him her most innocent smile, hoping that it looked affectionate to any lingering onlookers. "I'm only a girl from the slums, after all."

Tseng sighed, straightening up—too gradually for the motion to be abrupt, but his shift back into his usual self felt sudden all the same. The don's men must have left. "I'm sure that's how most people see you, yes."

"Oh?" Aerith's smile widened. "How do you see me?"

"Personal questions aren't for sale." Tseng's tone was final, and his clearly enunciated words were at odds with the swiftness with which he took back his jacket.

"Then I guess I'll just have to find out for myself," returned Aerith, looking Tseng up and down appraisingly. He had stepped back as though nothing had happened, physically reestablishing the boundary between the two of them. Did he always snap so easily between personas? "Anyway, if you don't have anything better to do, I could use an escort." Aerith nearly winced at her own words. Like a Turk wouldn't have anything 'better' to do.

But Tseng entertained the suggestion. "Is this going to be a repeat of last night? Leading me to a place you don't live?"

Not that Aerith was surprised that Tseng had figured it out, but now she was curious. "What makes you think that wasn't my real home?"

"Stargazer Heights has only single-room apartments."

"Yeah?" Aerith crossed her arms. "I'm not as rich as you might think I am." She, Tifa, and Jessie had actually discussed rooming together, after all.

"Records also show that you're not a tenant there." Tseng leaned ever so slightly closer. "Playing games is a waste of time with me, Aerith." If anyone else had said that, it would have sounded incredibly arrogant. Coming from Tseng, however—a man who could clearly walk his talk—it was no more and no less than pure confidence. Aerith might kill for that kind of effortless self-assurance.

"Okay, fine, you got me," said Aerith. "But I'm not going home, anyway, so it doesn't matter. I'm going to work."

"Oh?" Tseng didn't sound that surprised. Nor should he; most everyone in the slums started working by the time they hit their teens. "Then I'll escort you there, on the condition that you allow me to take you home afterward."

Aerith nodded. There was no sense in demanding that he use up one of his favors, since nothing was stopping him from just following her in secret anyway. It would be better to keep him where she could see him. "I sell flowers in Sector 8."

"I don't see any flowers on you."

"I left my basket at the Leaf House for safekeeping," said Aerith, already walking. To her delight, Tseng followed. "Along with my staff."

"You weren't concerned about running into trouble on the way here?"

"I was more concerned about drawing too much attention to myself," replied Aerith, thinking spitefully of how Tseng had basically called her stupid for coming back to Sector 6 at all. "And now you're here, so I don't have to worry about being defenseless on my way back to Sector 5. Right?"

Tseng sighed. "The Turks aren't bodyguards for hire."

"That's funny, since you're acting like one."

Aerith got the feeling that Tseng's stony stare was the rough equivalent of an eyeroll. "While we're on the subject, what do you know about the Turks?"

"They're Shinra's secret service," said Aerith, which was her stock answer whenever anyone else asked, but this situation was different. No one else should know about her relationship with the Turks, but certainly the Turks themselves did. "And… they're the ones responsible for looking for me, according to Mom. When I was a kid, I used to have a way stricter curfew than my friends, just in case."

"I see." That was Tseng's only reaction… and the only thing he said for the entire rest of the trip to Sector 5. Aerith rarely minded walking from sector to sector—she didn't like trains, so she was more comfortable walking most anywhere—but being within talking range of someone bent on ignoring her was maddening, to say the least.

When they finally arrived at the Leaf House, Aerith was glad to see a friendly face sitting on the front steps, and waved enthusiastically in anticipation of normal human interaction. "Hey, Svana!" The orphanage's newest hire had only recently started work there, but the kids were already attached to her. Svana's application had come at the right time: with Avalanche duties taking Biggs away from the school more and more often, her help was sorely needed.

"Oh, hey, Aerith!" Svana waved back, otherwise immobilized by two little girls eagerly styling her crimson hair. It had been an object of fascination for the children since Svana had started working there, and the fact that it was only shoulder-length did nothing to discourage them from braiding it. Aerith had to admit that it suited her. "Who's that topsider trailing after you? Your latest hopeless admirer?"

Aerith glanced sideways at Tseng, who remained expressionless as usual. "I don't know. Maybe."

Svana chortled knowingly. "Well, be careful. It's the 'maybes' that are always the most trouble."

Work itself passed quickly, thank Minerva, but it didn't do much to make Aerith less restless. She'd been trained from childhood never to invite anyone to her house, even her friends, so bringing home a stranger was far outside her usual comfort zone. Still, she'd agreed, and Tseng would just find out on his own anyway, right? So why was she so nervous?

For Aerith, gut feelings like these always turned out to have a good reason behind them, and she recognized the source of this one just after sundown, as soon as they reached her house. The door was ajar, warm light flooding out into the dusk, and Aerith knew instantly that Elmyra was waiting just inside, ready to scold her for being home late without telling her where she had been going. And probably also waiting for an explanation about who this stranger was, and why she'd allowed him to see where she lived.

An alibi sprang to mind upon the instant, as though having been barely restrained all day, and Aerith turned to Tseng. He looked down to regard her, characteristically impassive, though she thought she caught the tiniest flicker of surprise as she spoke: "Tseng—kiss me. Please."

Aerith expected him to reject her request out of hand, to turn around and leave her alone to explain everything to her waiting mother. Instead, as his eyes wandered down the garden path to settle briefly on the door, he seemed to grasp her thought process. And then, rather than respond in words, Tseng leaned down and kissed Aerith as requested.

It worked, but perhaps too well. Aerith had meant it to be a brief gesture to convince her mother, but after what had happened in the alley, she couldn't help but pull Tseng closer. She was going to get her money's worth, so to speak. (It didn't help that, at least in the moment, Tseng seemed just as uninterested in putting any distance between them.)

"Aerith Ifalna Gainsborough!" exclaimed Elmyra's voice, and Aerith broke away from Tseng to find her striding forward. "What are you doing?!"

Chapter Text

Kiss me. Please.

There were plenty of reasons to do it. Aerith's plan was easily understood, her alibi solid, and the concealment of the real nature of their connection necessary. Besides that, insinuating himself into Aerith's life—even if only as a ruse, to fool those closest to her—would make it easier to track her down and bring her in if need be. And, after what he had put her through earlier, giving her what she wanted as a reward might make things go more smoothly between them and ease the flow of information.

But, for all the strategic benefits that passed through Tseng's mind, the truth was much simpler: he simply felt like kissing Aerith. The week had been long; the future was uncertain and likely unpleasant; and Aerith was no longer just a pretty distraction, but a potential asset, or even an escape route. So, after a moment so fleeting that it could hardly even be called a hesitation, Tseng leaned down.

His lips had barely met Aerith's before hers parted beneath them, and Tseng was forced to shift his stance to accommodate the force of her passion as she pulled him closer by the lapels. Amid his rapidly scattering thoughts, he realized that she was right to skip the buildup: they were performing the climactic scene of an otherwise unseen show. Tseng had always preferred routine, but he was beginning to discover that there was a strange exhilaration to be found in spontaneity.

However long their kiss lasted, it wasn't long enough before they were interrupted. At the sound of her mother's irate voice, Aerith pulled away from Tseng with palpable reluctance. (When had his hands settled on her waist?) "Mom," she complained as her mother dragged her inside, and by extension Tseng, whose hand she caught and held fast. "This is exactly why I've waited so long to bring home my boyfriend!"

She was a natural. Having been forced to conceal her past, Aerith must have adopted lying as a survival skill early on. "Your… boyfriend," repeated her mother, looking Tseng up and down with suspicion bordering on hostility, as the door closed firmly behind them.

"Yes," responded Tseng, inclining his head with practiced awkwardness, and squeezed Aerith's hand. Even with his glove between them, her skin felt soft and warm, the way her lips had been. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself sooner, ma'am. My name is Tseng."

Curtly, Aerith's mother nodded her acknowledgment. "Elmyra," she said grudgingly, by way of introduction. "What do you do, Tseng?"

"I'm a mid-level office worker," replied Tseng. "Employed topside."

"I met him a few months ago, when I was selling flowers in Sector 8," added Aerith. "After he'd visited me a few times, I gave him my number along with his flowers, and… we've been seeing each other ever since."

"My parents are Wutaian immigrants," put in Tseng, and Elmyra's eyes narrowed. With a response like that, the war with Wutai must have affected her directly. "I saw Aerith for the first time when I was on my way to visit them, and bought some flowers for my mother. After that, I kept finding excuses to come and see her." He glanced at Aerith, giving her a small smile, then looked back at Elmyra. "Your daughter is quite special, Ms. Gainsborough."

Elmyra turned to Aerith as if with an effort. "And… you're happy, Aerith?"

"Very," said Aerith, interweaving her fingers with Tseng's. "So can you please forgive him for kissing me goodbye? We didn't know you were there, I promise." Another lie, just as quick and effortless. Aerith might make a good Turk.

After a short pause, Elmyra let out a long breath. "Fine. Just this once, I'll overlook it." But her expression clouded the next moment. "You were at Tifa's last night, right, Aerith?"

"Yeah, I was," replied Aerith. "If you don't trust me, you can always call her and make sure."

"I do trust you, sweetheart. I just don't trust anyone else." The glance she tossed Tseng was hardly subtle. "If you'd have told me about this earlier…"

"Then you'd have gotten on my case about it anyway," said Aerith, cutting Elmyra off. "I already know how it goes, Mom. You never let me bring anyone home; you never agree to meet them anywhere else; you don't even like it when I talk about them. You've always told me that you want me to be able to live my own life, but then you turn around and act like this whenever I like someone!"

Elmyra glared at her daughter. "There's a time and a place for arguments, Aerith."

"Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of him!"

"Aerith," said Tseng quietly. Staying behind would discourage Elmyra from providing any valuable intel, and if he was supposed to be playing Aerith's significant other, this was the point at which he should leave anyway. "Don't say anything you'll regret on my behalf. I'll go."

"Okay." Aerith reached for both of Tseng's hands. "But, since I guess you can't come back here anymore, you'll have to meet me…" She beckoned him closer, then stood on her tiptoes, leaned in, and whispered her phone number to him.

Aerith's breath stirred the hair by his ear, still loose, but Tseng was used to working around distractions. After committing her number to memory, he repeated it back to her under his breath to make sure, relieved at her nod. "Understood," he murmured, then straightened up. Elmyra was glowering at him. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Ms. Gainsborough."

Elmyra offered no verbal response, so Tseng departed, closing the door behind him. Feeling that Aerith's mother was the type to watch him through the window until he disappeared, he proceeded down the path until he was out of sight, then entered Aerith's number in his phone under A. He could think of a proper alias for her later.

After waiting another minute or so, Tseng circled back to Aerith's house, minding his footsteps and his shadow, until he could crouch to listen at the dining-room window.

"You don't have to act like we're engaged, Mom," Aerith was saying impatiently. "We've just been seeing each other for a few months, that's all. And I didn't say anything about him beforehand because I figured you wouldn't approve, so… I wanted to wait until I knew things were serious."

"And are they?"

"Well… yes."

"I know you're worried about what I think of him because he's from Wutai—"

"His parents are from Wutai, Mom."

"—but I'm actually more concerned about the fact that he lives topside," finished Elmyra, ignoring her daughter. "Shinra owns every business there, you know. What if word gets out who you are?"

"If you don't want me seeing anyone from above the plate, would you rather I take up with some slumlord down here?" There was such a fierce scowl in Aerith's voice that Tseng found himself picturing her expression. "Maybe I should audition to be one of Don Corneo's brides."

"Aerith!" exclaimed Elmyra, maternal anxiety sparking into momentary anger. "Don't even joke about that!"

"I'm an adult," continued Aerith forcefully. "I can make my own decisions, and you know I'm a good judge of character. I'm doing everything I can to stay safe." Judging by her shadow on the curtains, she took one of Elmyra's hands in both of hers. "I know how dangerous the world is, but you can't keep me hidden forever."

"I know. I just…" Elmyra sighed. "You know how much I worry."

"And I'm glad you love me enough to worry that much." It was Aerith's turn to sigh. "I'm not trying to get myself in trouble, Mom, I promise. I just want to follow my heart every once in a while."

"I understand," responded Elmyra. "I really do. But next time… give me a little warning, okay?"

"Okay." Aerith's silhouette rose. "I'm sorry."

Their conversation ended, and with it, the flow of useful information. Tseng departed as silently as he had arrived, traveling along the path toward the Leaf House, and noted how exposed this place was. He had expected Aerith's house to be well hidden, or located in a more densely populated area of the slums, but it was neither. Early curfew and extra rules notwithstanding, it should have been child's play to track her down, especially since she had not left Midgar. Why had that not been the case?

Tseng suspected that he already knew the answer. As far as he was concerned, the only way that Aerith could have escaped the Turks' notice for so many years was that his predecessor had gone easy on her. He had always been a family man, after all, and his loyalty—like Tseng's own—had been to the Turks before it was to Shinra. If he hadn't gone incommunicado out of necessity, along with most of the other Turks under his leadership, Tseng would ask him.

Once he had gone some distance, Tseng took out his phone.

[19:41] Shion: Aerith.
[19:42] A: Tsung?
[19:42] Shion: Tseng. This is a secure number if you need to reach me.
[19:42] Shion: Save my number as "Shion". And clear this message history.
[19:43] A: OK.

After another quick text to a different recipient, Tseng pocketed his phone again. Brushing his hair out of his face, he felt around his inside pocket for his hair tie, only to remember that Aerith had gotten rid of it in Wall Market. (He should probably start carrying a spare.)

Arriving at the entryway to the Leaf House, Tseng stopped and waited for his colleague. Now that the sun had dipped below the horizon, the children had been herded inside, so he didn't have to wait more than a few more minutes before she approached.

"Cissnei," said Tseng. "Or is it Svana now?"

"Tseng," was Cissnei's only response, accompanied by a short nod.

"Is there a reason you didn't inform me that you found Ifalna's daughter?"

Cissnei gave Tseng a look that most people would have thought impassive. Tseng, however, knew from experience that this was closer to scorn. "Don't tell me you're prioritizing a fifteen-year-old cold case over everything we're dealing with now."

It wasn't so long ago that Cissnei never would have replied to her direct superior in such a way, but Zack must have been rubbing off on her lately. "Anything I can use as a bargaining chip in the Turks' favor is valuable," said Tseng. "You know that."

Cissnei sighed. "That's why I didn't tell you."

"What is?"

"You just called her a bargaining chip," said Cissnei, crossing her arms, and leaned against the dingy brick wall. "But she's a person. A living, breathing human being with her own thoughts and feelings."

"Not human," said Tseng automatically. "Half-Ancient."

"My mistake," returned Cissnei, and her voice was cool, but there was a glint of repressed anger in her amber eyes. "Be careful, Tseng. Don't turn into one of the monsters we're trying to escape."

That cut deeper than Tseng expected, but then, Cissnei in particular had always had a knack for finding weaknesses. Her colleagues—and superiors—were no exception. Still, it was more important than ever that the Turks maintain a united front, so he dipped his head once, shortly, in acquiescence. "Just as long as you remember where your loyalty lies."

Perhaps it was Cissnei's mention of monsters, but an hour or two later, Tseng found himself standing before Shinra's highest-security prisoner.

Deepground and all its charges were usually outside even the Turks' jurisdiction, but given that they had been directly responsible for retrieving this particular renegade, they maintained visiting rights. Tseng rarely made good on them, finding their conversations frustrating and unproductive at best, but an outside perspective amid this turmoil wouldn't go amiss.

The prisoner spoke first, looking up from a worn, gilt-edged book. "Tseng. To what do I owe the honor?"

"To the last Ancient." There was little point in trying to be indirect when Tseng's audience was already privy to most details, and outclassed him in obliqueness besides.

"Ah," returned the prisoner, eyebrows raised. "Then you finally found her."

"By coincidence, yes."

Long since freed from physical shackles, the prisoner stretched. "Nothing is ever a coincidence for people like us, and you know it."

Tseng was silent. It would be useless, at this point, to devote any energy to persuading someone this stubborn that they were nothing alike. Every time he had mentioned such a thing before, he had been met with scoffing laughter or, more often, frigid and disbelieving silence.

"Are you going to bring her here?"

"That remains to be seen."

"Take care, Turk," said the prisoner lightly, meeting Tseng's eyes with an intensity that had remained dormant for some time. For better or worse, news of Aerith had rekindled some passion long left undisturbed. "If the blood of the last Ancient gets on your hands, you'll have to answer to me as well as Shinra."

"Do you know her?"

"Personally? No." The prisoner smiled a little sadly. "But, as a fellow steward of the planet, I feel for her. Do try to keep her alive until we have the chance to meet."

Tseng chose not to point out that the prisoner had no Ancient blood, that the title had been self-assigned rather than inherited, that there was no guarantee of their meeting at all. Such logical assertions would certainly fall on deaf ears. "It isn't entirely up to me, you know."

"Someday, it may be." The prisoner turned a page idly, but found no need to look at it; its contents had already been memorized. "You have work to do, Tseng. Don't waste the time you have left on me."

As usual, there was an ominous ring to the prisoner's parting words, and Tseng turned and left without acknowledging them. Why he ever bothered visiting in the first place when it always felt as though he was playing into someone else's hands, he had no idea. Especially as the elevator ride back up to the Turks' floor was a very, very long one, and gave Tseng more than enough time to consider all possible meanings of 'the time he had left'.

As soon as Tseng arrived in his own office, he had barely shut the door behind him before Reno opened it again. "Hey, Boss," he said, closing the door and leaning against it. "You found Aerith's place, right? How'd it go?"

Not that Tseng would ever admit it, but he appreciated having something else to think about, and sank down at his desk. "I don't even have a welcome to overstay. Aerith's mother put up with me for her daughter's sake, but I'll be surprised if she'll ever be willing to have me under her roof again." Not that such a thing would be much of a problem, considering that there was no reason for Tseng to set foot inside again anyway.

"Why'd you let her mom see you in the first place?" Reno tapped his fingers on the wall impatiently. "You said you were going to find out where she lived, not meet the family. Don't tell me some random civilian actually caught the head of the Turks?"

Tseng shook his head. "I wasn't in hiding or in disguise, and Aerith's mother was already waiting for her when we got there." Anticipating Reno's next question from the look on his face, he added, "I let Aerith decide how best to explain."

"And…?"

Tseng wanted to say that it was irrelevant, but knew too well that Reno was not the kind of person who let matters drop. Better that he break the news himself than risk Reno muddying the waters by tracking down Aerith and asking her directly. "She told her mother we're seeing each other."

"And she actually believed her?" Reno smiled. "You must've brushed up on your acting skills."

"I take my work seriously." Unlike you. Tseng left the end unsaid; Reno was sharp enough to hear it anyway.

"Sure, sure," responded Reno, brushing off Tseng's unspoken words. "I bet work was the only thing in your head when you were kissing her."

Tseng shot his alleged subordinate a cold, sharp glare. Over the years, Reno and his endless provocations had been a major factor in Tseng's expertise at decoupling his expression from his emotions; at the moment, he was significantly more embarrassed than angry. "Watch it, Reno."

To his confusion, Reno seemed surprised at first, but then his face split into a grin. "Either I'm a genius or you're slipping, 'cause I was just guessing, but it looks like I was onto something after all!" He laughed aloud in delight, and Tseng felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. "Oh, man. Are you sure nothing happened in that love hotel last night?"

Had it really only been last night? Tseng felt as though at least three days had passed since the incident with Don Corneo. "If you don't have anything better to do than stand there and run your mouth, I can think of a few tasks for you."

"No, no!" Reno was already backing away. "I'm good. Rude needs me for… uh, something."

Rude had been assigned to keep an eye on the apartment to which Tseng had brought Aerith, since it likely belonged to one or both of her co-conspirators. Reno was definitely not a part of the job, but at this point, it wasn't worth Tseng's effort to punch holes in his alibi. "Then get moving."

Only after Reno actually left did Tseng dare to breathe a sigh of relief. He had more than enough to think about without Reno's flippant additions.

The rest of the night, and the next morning, were reassuringly uneventful.

After tumbling down an unexpected etymological rabbit-hole, Tseng decided on the name Kithara for Aerith's alias. He had just finished updating her contact information and drafting a text message when Reno arrived to report on Rude's progress and did not wait to be debriefed. "Rude's still keeping an eye on the place, but it looks like only one of them lives there—the dark-haired, busty one who can't tell when she's being watched. I followed the other one since she dropped by."

At this point, it was never a surprise when Reno's impulsive decisions, like tagging along with Rude, somehow led to him being in the right place at the right time to make some kind of breakthrough. "And?"

"She actually knew someone was tracking her," continued Reno. "Tried to shake me off a couple times, but her technique needs some work. That one's rooming deeper in the slums with a few other girls." Reno tilted his head. "So… what are you gonna be doing?"

"Whatever I can, starting with having a talk with our latest asset," said Tseng, having just sent off his message to Aerith—

[10:33] Shion: Meet me in Sector 8. I need to ask you some things.

—but he had barely pocketed his phone before it buzzed with a response.

[10:34] Kithara: I'm busy

Tseng stared at the screen for a moment.

Reno burst into laughter, and Tseng realized that he had somehow managed to position himself behind him unnoticed so that he could read the screen. "Maybe you're the boss of the Turks, but you're not the boss of her."

[10:34] Shion: So am I. This is important.
[10:34] Kithara: How important?
[10:34] Shion: It could save your life if worst comes to worst.
[10:35] Kithara: Well what I'm doing could save everyone in S7.

Tseng let out a sigh.

[10:35] Shion: Then meet me in Sector 8 when you're done.
[10:35] Kithara: See you in an hour then ♥ usual place?
[10:36] Shion: Yes.

"Damn," remarked Reno, backing away as Tseng glowered at him. "Forcing a compromise with the head of the Turks. She's really something, huh?"

Tseng slid his phone into his pocket, and this time, it remained still and silent. "That's one way to put it."

"Well, if you need backup, you know who to call," said Reno, halfway to the door and by now impervious to the look Tseng tossed after him. "Good luck. Seems like you'll need it."

By the time Aerith arrived at her usual corner in Sector 8, Tseng had been waiting for over half an hour. Some of that was the result of his own habit of arriving early, but it was equally true that Aerith's pace as she approached was not particularly hurried.

"You took your time."

"Hello to you, too," said Aerith, smiling, and took Tseng's arm even though he didn't offer it. "Where are we going?"

"You'll find out." Associating with the Turks meant receiving no definitive answers; the sooner Aerith got used to that, the better. And besides, after being strung along like this, Tseng wasn't in the mood to explain anything.

Aerith raised her eyebrows, but seemed to recognize that this was a test, because she asked no further questions—or at least, no further questions about their destination. "Do your parents really live somewhere around here?"

"Yes."

"Can I meet them?"

"No."

"Why not? It's only fair."

"They'd eat you alive."

"Well, I guess they are your parents," returned Aerith thoughtfully. On her lips, that sounded almost like a compliment. Maybe that was how she meant it. "But I can be pretty charming when I want to be. Or so people have told me."

Tseng, getting the distinct sense that there was never a right answer with Aerith, said nothing.

It wasn't long before they arrived at the Turks' old standby, a hole-in-the-wall bar and diner that was dark inside even during the daytime. The proprietor wasn't on Shinra's payroll, but they were quiet. Trustworthy. Reno claimed that they were acquainted with Rude from times predating the Turks (and Reno would know), but that was the most even he had heard.

This place only tended to get busy starting in the afternoons, so there wasn't any wait before they were seated. "Drinks only," said Tseng, sliding onto a bar stool, and Aerith followed suit. "Non-alcoholic. We won't be here long."

"And here I thought you were gonna treat me to a nice meal," said Aerith, shaking her head and tutting, and skimmed her menu. "I guess chivalry really is dead."

"You live in the slums," pointed out Tseng. "Did you ever have any doubt?"

It was Aerith's turn not to answer, especially since the barkeep was approaching. As soon as their orders were taken, her attention shifted from their retreating back to Tseng. "So, are you gonna tell me what you wanted to ask me about, or do I have to guess?"

"I know you said you didn't know much about the Promised Land earlier," said Tseng, speaking freely. Even if there were eavesdroppers, this amount of information wasn't dangerous, and the proprietor had the Turks' back. "But I want you to tell me everything you do know. Whatever you can remember, whether you believe in it or not."

"And this is supposed to 'save my life'… how?"

"More than anything else, the higher-ups want access to the Promised Land," explained Tseng. "They thought you and your mother could guide them there somehow. If you do end up in their custody, and they ask me about what I've gotten out of you, I need to make sure our stories are consistent."

"Right…" Aerith paused to gather her thoughts. "As far as I know, the Promised Land is like the afterlife, but I think it's metaphorical. I always assumed it was less like a place and more like… when you die, your soul rejoins the Lifestream, and you're a part of everything again. I may not know much about my ancestors, but it seems like that'd be their idea of heaven. And they were nomads, so if it was anywhere on the planet, they'd have found it thousands of years ago."

So Aerith didn't know much more than Tseng himself, and had come to more or less the same conclusions. That didn't answer any of Tseng's questions about why Shinra was sinking real resources into chasing a pipe dream, but it did mean that there could be some complications on the horizon. "I know a few diehards who won't like hearing that. Try to come up with a few convincing lies, in case you're backed into a corner."

Aerith nodded as they received their beverages without ceremony. "Got it."

"What were you doing that could save everyone in Sector 7?"

"Working with Biggs and Jessie to secure safe houses in Sectors 5, 6, and 8," replied Aerith, unwrapping her straw. "Barret and Wedge are convincing the people in Sector 7 to get ready for disaster, and Tifa and Zack are taking turns looking after Cloud and helping with the warnings."

"Cloud's still unconscious, then?"

"Yeah." Aerith slid her straw into her strawberry lemonade and took a sip, then made a soft noise of approval at its taste and took a longer draft. "Do you think he'll ever wake up?"

"Even if he does, most people never fully recover from mako poisoning," answered Tseng. "And… I don't know what else Hojo might have done to him."

Aerith glared at nothing. It was such a dark look on her generally bright features that, for a moment, she hardly resembled herself. "That monster," she muttered, giving a shudder of revulsion that Tseng couldn't help but think wasn't as exaggerated as it looked. "He's put too many innocent people through worse than hell. I hope he gets what's coming to him someday."

There was nothing that could be said to that. Tseng took a careful sip of his hot water as soon as it qualified as tea, leaving the teabag in place to gradually stain the water a deeper golden-green.

"Anyway," continued Aerith finally, looking up from working on her lemonade, "what're you going to be doing this week?"

"Keeping an eye on the situation," replied Tseng. "We can't delay the process any more than we already have, but I should be able to notify you of any unexpected changes. At this point, it's your move; our turn comes after that."

Aerith rested her elbow on the counter to lean on it, and met Tseng's eyes. "That's it? That's all you can do—keep an eye on things?" Her tone was more insistent than angry or even disapproving, but it was still a clearer challenge than most Turks received.

"As leader of the Turks, my duty is mostly to monitor and delegate," responded Tseng evenly. "And if you knew the others, you'd agree that keeping track of them is a full-time job."

"If you say so." Aerith's words were dismissive, but her expression was not, and she did not look away from Tseng. Instead, she simply observed him for a time in between sips of lemonade. She seemed to be searching his face for something, but gave no indication what she was looking for, or whether she found it.

As silence stretched between them, Tseng tried to trace back his feeling of discomfort to its source. The obvious answer was that he wasn't used to being watched, since he was usually the one doing the watching. More particularly, it felt like some kind of expectation had been placed on him, like he was supposed to do something specific.

Kiss her again?

The thought slipped into Tseng's mind unbidden and did not leave it. He nursed his tea as it grew stronger, feeling Aerith's eyes on his throat whenever he swallowed. Maybe her thoughts were running along the same trajectory. Maybe she was just as exhausted and stressed, or close to it, and was therefore just as interested in a superficial escape. Her behavior up till now had certainly been enough to suggest that much, even to someone whose job didn't revolve around reading people, and that made the temptation all the sweeter. Not that anyone in Tseng's position could afford to indulge—

"Sir?!"

This marked one of very few occasions when Tseng was grateful to have his train of thought broken, not that he'd ever admit it, and he looked up. "Elena." Of course. He might have known. No other Turk would dare to interrupt him openly.

Elena was eyeing Aerith with… confusion? Curiosity? No. Closer to contempt, actually. "Who's this?"

"This is Kithara," replied Tseng, and Aerith blinked, but seemed to understand the necessity of a code name under the circumstances. "Kithara, this is Elena, our newest recruit."

Though Elena gave Aerith a perfunctory nod of greeting, she still addressed only Tseng. "Then… she knows we're Turks?"

"Even if she didn't, you just told her," returned Tseng, scowling. "Think before you speak, Elena."

"S-sorry, sir!" Elena cleared her throat, but gave no sign of leaving. "Are you, um, on duty?"

"No," replied Tseng, a lie coming to him easily. "As it happens, I'm on a date."

Elena's eyes flew wide. "A—a date?!" She made an extremely obvious, and not quite successful, attempt to clear her expression. "I didn't know you had a—I mean, I thought it was against policy to—"

Sensing that this could go on for a while, Tseng cut her off. "It's not."

Elena looked thunderstruck. "Really?"

"As long as you can separate your feelings from your work, and vice versa, yes," said Tseng, allowing a bite of impatience into his voice. "Which means your fellow Turks are, by default, off limits. Keep that in mind." He didn't take half as much pleasure in hurting others as most people assumed, but it was at least a solid way to convey to Elena that he was not interested in her.

"But… what about Reno and Rude?"

Elena blurted out the question like it had been rolling around in her head for a long time, and Tseng raised his eyebrows. It would be easy enough to answer it—to explain that the nature of Reno and Rude's partnership defied conventional labels, and more importantly, that whatever they felt for one another actually made them more effective at their jobs instead of less—but it really wasn't his story to tell. If Elena was that curious, she could ask one of them herself.

"Tseng," said Aerith, the faintest edge of a whine to her voice, and leaned forward to trace his jawline with a feather-light touch. Without his conscious input, Tseng's eyes slid back to her to find her looking as earnest as if they really were in the middle of a date that had been interrupted. "Can't this wait?"

Deliberately softening his touch, Tseng took Aerith's wrist to move her hand away from his face, then brushed a kiss against the back of her fingers and released her. "Of course it can wait." He glanced sideways at Elena. "Now isn't a good time, Elena. I'll talk to you later." And Elena, who had been turning steadily redder in the dim light, mumbled something that might have been another apology and practically bolted out of the diner.

Aerith's eyes lingered on the door through which Elena had disappeared before looking back at Tseng. "Kithara, huh?"

"It's your name in my contacts," said Tseng, choosing not to elaborate on the lengthy etymological chain that had led there. "For security."

"I like it," said Aerith, smiling. "Kithara and Shion, partners in crime. But…" She tilted her head, sobering again quickly. "Isn't it going to cause some problems if one of the Turks thinks we're a couple, too?"

Tseng suppressed a sigh. "If Reno and Rude don't set Elena straight before this evening, I'll explain the situation tonight. For now, it's simpler just to lie."

"Maybe so, but you saw the way she was looking at me," said Aerith. "You said she's a new recruit?"

"Something like an intern, yes."

"Must be rough having a crush on your boss when you're just an intern," remarked Aerith, and then added, "Must be even rougher having a crush on your boss and then accidentally crashing his date."

Tseng wasn't sure what to say to that, so he drained the last of his tea and rose, reaching for his wallet. "We should be going."

"Not so fast," said Aerith, catching Tseng's arm. "What if Elena's still hanging around? You told her this was a date! If you leave too early, she might catch you and ask all kinds of questions."

"Which I can answer easily, if it comes down to it." There was no way that Aerith had simply ignored or forgotten about the fact that Tseng had just said that he intended to tell Elena the truth later anyway. "Are you trying to get a free lunch? You should know there's no such thing."

Aerith shrugged, poking her straw around the ice in her glass. "Here in the slums, we take what we can get, and we don't let go once we have it. Aren't you the same?"

"In some situations, yes," returned Tseng. "But I also learned early on how to recognize lost causes." That should be enough for Aerith to get the hint. Honestly, Tseng didn't hate the idea of having lunch with her, but spending too much time in one another's company still struck him as a bad idea. Particularly since Aerith seemed to have no qualms with not-so-innocent flirtation, and—unlike Reno, daredevil that he was—Tseng preferred not to test the limits of his self-control.

"I'll let it slide this time, don't worry. You're lucky I had breakfast today." Getting to her feet, Aerith didn't wait for a response. "Anyway, thanks for the lemonade, Tseng. Text me whenever you feel like treating me to a little bit more than just drinks." And then, with a cheery smile and wave, and without a backward glance, she departed.

Tseng could only look after her, half in wonderment, before giving a nasal sigh and retrieving the gil from his wallet. Brazen. That was the word. How could someone who had grown up with a target on her back have become so fearless?

"You'd best keep an eye on that one, Turk," said the proprietor in their gravelly voice, the first they'd spoken, and grinned their gap-toothed grin. "Supplies like that don't tend to last."