Rating: MA (NC-17- to be safe)
Characters: Elena, Tseng
Prompt: 30) Hands (40_loves)
Word Count: 1553
Author's Notes: This story will get darker as it goes on.
Warnings: Violence and semi description of torture.
Summary:Since being attacked by the remnants of Sephiroth both Tseng and Elena have changed, for the better and the worse. They are about to be forced to face what they are and who they have become, and face what they feel for each other, or else the very things they care about may be destroyed.
Tseng has resumed barely speaking to me. I wonder, sometimes, if he is truly insane, or something more. He can be the most mature person I have ever met, calm and collected, and the next moment he is cold and closed off. Sometimes it hurts my brain; sometimes I just say “Fuck it” and try to ignore his actions. It depends on the day and depends on how he’s acting. There are times though, when I want to bash his teeth in.
Work hasn’t gotten any easier, but since I don’t react when they grope me anymore, they seem to do it less frequently. Funny, men are such strange creatures.
Dark hair fell in front of his eyes, but he made no move to clear his vision. She gazed at him, watched the way his muscles locked into place making him look like some giant stalking cat. He looked completely predatory and completely calm at the same time.
They had been perched on the top of the same building for two hours waiting for their target. She was beginning to get anxious, her fingers twitching from time to time, nervously curling and uncurling at her side. Yes, she was nervous. If things went wrong, their cover would be blown and they would never get to their big target.
She opened her mouth to speak to him, but he must have seen her do so out of the corner of his eye, because his hand clamped down on her mouth, silencing her. She blinked at him and he motioned, slightly, out towards the street. She followed his gaze to see their target exited the building.
She had to admit, he didn’t look like that dangerous. He looked like a child, or at least not much older than him, light blonde hair shadowed in the dark, dressed in a crisp, dark blue business suit.
She turned to look at him from under the curtain of her hair. “Do we go after him?”
He shook his head, only slightly. “We wait.”
“For what, sir?”
She didn’t bother questioning him again, just gazed down at the street, watching the man make his way slowly down the street. He seemed completely at ease. Did he know the Turks were after him, or was his blissfully unaware? It really didn’t matter either way.
The sound of laughter caught her attention and she turned. A couple of kids were running down the street. She guessed they were no more that twelve, maybe a little younger. The one who looked to be the tallest punched one of them in the arm and took off running, ducking into the building their target had exited, his friends following him. She couldn’t help but let the edges of her mouth curve into a smile. Seeing such innocence always made her remember that there were some good things in the world.
She watched her target again, watches his smooth, even strides down the street.
Then it happened before she knew it. There was a huge explosion, her ears rang and she felt the heavy weight of Tseng’s body pressing down on her back, knocking her on her stomach. She heard heavy pieces of the building falling around them, felt her body tingle with heat, felt the heavy beating of Tseng’s heart against her back.
She must have stayed like that for at least ten minutes, eyes closed, Tseng’s weight on her back, then he turned her over, stroking her hair back from her face. “Elena?” She was groaning softly, coughing to try to get the smoke out of her face. “Elena?” His voice seemed far away, her ears still ringing viciously.
She slowly opened her eyes, blinking them several times, trying to move his face from a blur into an actual image. He continued to stroke her face, watching her intently. “Are you alright?”
“I….I think so.” She blinked at him, then squirmed out from under his weight, crawling across to look over the edge of the street and to the ruined remains of the building, tears springing to her eyes as she thought of the children who had been in there when it blew.
Tseng’s hand went to her shoulder and she cried out. He pulled back his hand, now soaked in her blood from the giant gash a piece of metal had made, to turn her towards him. “Elena, are you alright?”
She nodded slightly, not trusting herself to actually give him an honest answer.
He had patched up her shoulder quite well, and she had to admit that it still hurt just as much as before.
She had carefully peeled the ruined remains of his uniform off, tenderly attending to the cuts and burns that lined the beautiful expanse of his back. His muscles worked beneath her gentle fingers, clenching and unclenching as she bandaged him up, then he was redressing, standing and heading for the door, calling over his shoulder that he would call her when she was to follow.
All that was left for her to do was wait.
Even sitting in front of her, Alexander Greene didn’t look intimidating. He looked pale and childlike, but not dangerous. His lip was swollen and split, and he lashed out at it with his tongue to wet the injury. Of course it was Tseng who had done that, she didn’t even have to question that. Yet, she had to give him credit: he didn’t look even remotely frightened at the sight of the two Turks in front of him.
Elena rolled her shoulder; the muscles that were there had been locking up. The bandage on her shoulder had become mostly saturated with her own blood as she pulled a chair up in front of him, gazing at him with empty eyes.
Tseng had given him a pretty good beating, and just by the way the guy was sitting she could see it. Every breath screamed it.
Tseng reentered the room, eyes empty as always on a mission. He had refused to given Tseng any information, so it was time to use stronger tactics.
He tossed her a small set of keys, which she caught, barely taking her gaze off of the man.
“Release one hand and hold it out in front of him steadily, Elena.”
She didn’t question him, merely stood and did as she was told, released the prisoner’s left hand, and holding it out in front of him. Alexander tried to pull his hand away, but as petite and harmless as she looked, Elena was quite strong and kept her grip on his arm firm.
Tseng crouched down in front of the younger man, playing with something in the palm of his hand. “Do you still refuse to talk?”
Alexander didn’t answer, merely spat in his face.
Tseng, however, did not flinch or get angry, merely held up what was in his palm. “Do you know what this is?”
Alexander didn’t respond, until Elena added enough pressure to his elbow that it almost popped. “Yes,” the man spat through clenched teeth.
Tseng rolled the cigar cutter in his hand, an almost wistful look on his face. “See, it comes quite in handy for cigar smokers, but it has so many other uses.”
Alexander seemed more confused than anything, but Elena knew what he was doing. She knew all too well.
Tseng grabbed the prisoner’s hand in his. “Hold his hand tightly, Elena, fingers up and spread.”
The petite blonde grabbed Alexander’s hand, squeezing it until his fingers stood straight out and spread apart, and watched as Tseng placed the cigar cutter around the pointer finger. That must have been all it took for Alexander to know what was going to happen because he started to struggle, but being tied up and having Elena’s arms holding him still made it impossible to move, and that was when Tseng closed the blade around his finger and it fell to the floor as a bloody stump.
Alexander let out a small sound as Tseng placed the cutter over the next finger. “Still refusing to talk?”
Elena had to give him credit, because he clenched his jaw and refused to speak, and only tensed slightly as the blade came down and sliced off another finger.
It took until the last finger for him to finally speak, spilling out everything they wanted to know, then Tseng had pulled out his gun and sent a bullet into the man’s head. Elena didn’t even flinch as the man’s blood splattered her face.
That night, when she stood under the spray of the shower and let the blood wash away- hers and the prisoners- the disturbing nature of what they did- what they always did on their job- hit her and she bent over, throwing up, shaking under the spray of the water.
She collapsed to her knees, shaking, and hours later, after the water had become ice cold, Tseng quietly came in and lifted her from the spray, cradling her to his chest, drying her off as best as he could and carrying her shaking form into the bedroom and laying down on the bed with her, throwing the covers over and letting her cry against his chest until she drifted off to sleep, his hands running across his back to help calm her down.