Theme + Number: 3) Flowers, 9) Planet, 19) Meteor, 25) Midgar & 41) Weapons
Characters/Pairings included: Tseng, Elena, Kadaj, Yazoo, brief mention of Aeris
Warnings: Blood, violence
Summary: It took until then for him to realize what he should have already known.
Spoilers: AC ones like crazy.
After Meteor was stopped by the planet and Midgar was destroyed, when everyone was safe again (or so they all thought) things seemed to go back to normal for her. Well, except the company all but ceased to exist. Sure, most of the people who worked for it (out of the higher ups) were still alive, but in the most technical terms the company was gone.
The Turks had all stayed together though, looking after the wounded president and for all technical purposes being each other’s only company in the world.
Over time she had become closer to her partner, sharing small conversations and little jokes between them that the others wouldn’t understand. Sometimes it was awkward to be as close as she was with her boss. Sometimes she worried it bordered on in appropriate, but that too changed over time and she was content with where they stood.
She remembers when they were attacked by Kadaj and his gang, how he called out to her, the desperation in his voice, the fear in his eyes. Sitting there, hands ties together, she watched as the blade of Kadaj’s sword slid across the pale, pale skin of his chest, watched the blood spill forth from the wound. He hadn’t even flinched, just stared hard and cold at the silver-haired demon, stubborn and loyal as always. The blade slid across his skin again, firmer, longer, blood spilling forth and pooling on the floor at his knees.
The demon laughed, crouching down in front of him. “Stubborn,” the demon whispered. “And foolish as well. I don’t think he believes we will kill him, Yazoo.”
The demon’s brother tilted his head to one side. “I do believe you are right, Kadaj.”
But Tseng had kept his firm face, didn’t falter even as his blood stained the ground, spilled forth from that pale, pale span of muscled chest. “You can kill me if you wish,” her boss spat. “But it will do you no good.”
The demon stood, paced back and forth in front of them, tapped his sword against his leather clad leg, then spun to face her, a malicious smile on his face. She had been taught to hold back her fear, but the look in his eyes made it quite hard: feral, like a sociopath. He was going to hurt her and he was going to enjoy it.
“Your blood might not make you speak, Turk,” the demon spat. “But what about hers?” He had the blade pressed against her back, firm through the thin fabric of her shirt.
Tseng’s jaw clenched as he watched her, watched the blade intently, but he did not speak, he would not speak.
The demon smiled and swung his blade down across her back.
She screamed out, a white-hot pain shooting through her body as her warm blood flowed freely from the wound.
She bit her lip and fought back the tears that threatened to fall.
The demon laughed. “Oh, her pain makes you speak.”
Tseng clenched his jaw again as he watched the blood flow across the floor, watched her body twitch in pain.
“Oh, not enough for you?” The demon’s blade rose again.
“Tseng, don’t you dare!” He was surprised by the anger in her voice. “Don’t say anything, Tseng! Don’t you say anything! Nothing! Not a thing!”
He had never seen such strength in the young woman before him, never heard such anger before, and it took all of his strength not to scream out the information that they wanted.
The blade screamed across her skin again, sliced her back open and once more as more warm blood flowed freely from the wounds inflicted. She kept her gaze steady on him, screaming with her eyes that no matter what happened he was not to say anything. He could not say anything! She would endure the pain, she would die if she had to, but he could not say anything.
She passed out not that long after that, and she didn’t remember their transport out of that torture chamber. The next thing she remembered was waking up in the woods, Tseng’s bloody hand grasping her own. His eyes shown as he pulled her to sit against his legs, stroked her hair with his pale bloody hand.
“I’m cold,” she whispered to him.
He held her as tightly against him as he could, but his own cold body wasn’t much of a comfort with her cold. But he held her close to them as the world turned dark again, and the next thing she knew was lying in a bed in Edge with him lying in a bed near her.
She turned her head and met his relieved eyes. “You’re awake,” he whispered.
She nodded slightly. “I am.”
Healing had been a job in an of itself, a painful one, and her entire body felt cold ever time he would flinch when she stumbled or her muscles tensed and she whimpered from the pain. She hated him worrying about her, and hated him feeling it was his fault that she was hurt.
By the time her birthday rolled around the wounds had healed to nice pink scars- still new and tender and the skin was soft enough that if you prodded it hard enough with your fingertips you could push right through the skin to the muscles and blood below.
She remembers the flowers that were shoved in her face: white and yellow in a small bouquet. She had looked up at him in question and he had smiled, albeit slightly. “A celebration of living,” he told her.
And she accepted those flowers (such a rare thing now since the flower girl had died) and nodded at him slightly. “Thank you.”
“How do you feel?”
“Better. Alive. And yourself?”
She tilted her head to one side as she watched him. “Empty?”
He nodded. “There is something missing in my life, Elena.”
She frowned, asking him silently what he was missing.
He leaned down, brushed his lips softly against hers. “The feel of you in my arms like that day we almost died, Elena. That is what I am missing.” His lips brushed hers again. “I had never felt more alive than I did in that moment, Elena. You gave purpose to my life.”
When his lips brushed against hers again she returned the pressure, smiled into his kiss. Neither knew if anything would come of them, or if anything would be allowed to come from it, but for now they were content in each other’s company, being the warmth to each other’s cold and the light to each other’s dark.