Ruthless Gravity

He was almost relieved to be out of Rufus’s presence. It was difficult enough to keep his attachment to Rufus from interfering with his orders, but even more so when he was forced to stand in his presence, to watch the soft smiles he afforded him and know that each could be his last. He was well aware of the fact that Rufus suspected something, for he would have had to be blind not to notice the way the Turk was acting. Though always stoic and professional, there was something colder lying beneath the surface now. And not for the first time since his orders, did he wish he had simply been left in the dark. His duty was to protect Rufus with his own life, one that he would have willingly given. There was honour to be found in dying in the line of duty, dying to save the life of the one he was ordered to protect. He would have gladly died in this cause, allowing the assassin to take his life, as well. But instead he was the worst kind of traitor. One who wove sweet lies and gained trust only to betray it. He was to watch, and wait, and anticipate the moment in which the plotting was fulfilled and Rufus Shinra lay dead, white suit bloodied, light eyes forever closed.

None of it set well with him as he stepped from the elevator and made his way toward Heidegger’s office. Knocking briefly at the door, he entered offering a respectful bow to his superior only to find Heidegger claiming to have never called for him in the first place, and that there must have been some miscommunication. Clenching his hands at his side, Tseng felt a minute pang of apprehension. They needed him out of the way. And a wave of nausea overtook him momentarily, before he regained his stoicism, reprimanding himself for caring so much about Rufus. He dismissed himself, and stood on business-like formality as he made his way back to Rufus’s apartment, assuring himself that he was merely being over concerned with the matter. It was in the hall leading back toward Rufus’s apartment that he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sudden sound of a window shattering. The cause was that of a bullet, no doubt. And though he had prepared himself for this moment, he found himself hesitant outside the door, half unwilling to finalize that which he already knew.

Punching in the access code, he reminded himself that an assassination was nothing he hadn’t seen. It was nothing he hadn’t done. Only this time it would be different. It wouldn’t be some nameless, faceless being who had learned too much—though he grimly realized that those too had left someone behind. And as he slipped inside the door, he tried to convince himself to put all personal feelings aside and stick to his orders, desperately trying to quell the image of Rufus sprawled across the floor, staining the pristine white carpet red. It would be no different, he reassured himself. No different than any other kill ... he had killed people before. Might as well have killed him for all you did to stop it. He cursed the tiny creeping voice, knowing that it was right. But as he moved further inside, fully expecting to see a spreading pool of blood, Tseng frowned slightly at the sight of the discarded glasses, not finding a trace of Rufus, dead or alive. Yet, a sniper would not have shot at nothing.

‘Tseng!’ At the sound of Rufus’s voice, Tseng’s heart leapt to his throat, uncommonly startled by the fact that Rufus was still alive. Peering over the desk, he found the younger man crouched, pistol in hand, a bit shaken and frantic, but otherwise uninjured. And his gaze flickered back to the shattered window, as he remained still in silent contemplation before looking down at the Vice President once more. You’re supposed to be dead.

‘Tseng, get down! They’re most likely still out there.’ But when Tseng hesitated, he knew something was amiss. He had been trained to react instantaneously, and though there had never been an attempt on Rufus’s life before, Tseng should have been there beside him, gun in hand, ordering him to stay down. Instead, he merely stood there as though Rufus had thrown a glitch in his efficiency, as though he had not been prepared for this and Rufus was supposed to be dead.

‘Tseng.’ Rufus half whispered in disbelief, feeling an aching knot form in his throat. He wouldn’t do something like this ... no. Never. He trusted Tseng with his life, he trusted him as a companion. He wouldn’t betray him on such a level. No ... it had to be a mistake. Tseng was simply stunned. He wouldn’t betray him like this. Not the man he slept with ... not the man he could have—

But there he was, silently standing there without as much as a weapon in hand.

Tseng closed his eyes before turning back to the skyline, finding no trace of the sniper. Either the attempt was thought to be a success or had been abandoned after one shot, though he did not see how the sniper could have come so close to hitting his mark without noticing that he had missed. He turned back to Rufus knowing that he must know. ‘Sir,’ He began, pushing back the conflicting emotions, ‘They’re gone. Are you hurt?’

Rufus didn’t answer, only stared at the Turk, trembling slightly from both the attempt and the betrayal. It was suddenly pristinely clear. Tseng had known all along, and still he had seen no problem staying with him the night before, all the while assuring him that there was nothing the matter. He had known and still he had allowed it to happen without as much as a warning to Rufus that there was the threat of danger. He wondered if Tseng would have even cared had the attempt succeeded. ‘Get out.’ He murmured, steadying himself slightly to fend off the impending wave of nausea. He had no use for the Turk now. He only wished him away from his presence.

‘Sir—’

‘Don’t.’ Rufus raised his hand as though the gesture would fend off any further lies. He had heard enough. Struggling between rage and despair, he cradled his head in his free hand, trying to will away the image of Tseng standing before him, eyes speaking of his betrayal and dishonesty. Be they orders or not, had he no loyalty to Rufus at all? And in the end rage won out and Rufus glared at Tseng, eyes shining with unshed tears as he aimed the pistol levelly at him. ‘I trusted you!’ The words cutting deep, in haunting remembrance of his dream, but Tseng backed away just a little as if to show Rufus that he meant him no further harm.

‘Your trust was misplaced.’ Came the even reply, brutally honest despite the circumstances.

‘You betrayed that trust!’ His finger coiled around the trigger and squeezed, the bullet flying inches from ending the Turk’s life, shattering the glass of a nearby mirror. And though he had no true intent in killing Tseng, he noted that the Turk had not as much as even flinched, accepting this death if Rufus willed it so. And part of him said that he should have killed him for his betrayal. But he needed answers, no matter how grim they might be. ‘Why?’

‘I never meant for you to trust me.’ Tseng moved closer to Rufus, wanting the weapon away from the younger man, not for his own self-preservation but more for the fact that he feared the Rufus would turn the gun on himself in his desperation. Ironic, considering moments ago he expected to find Rufus dead at the end of sniper’s rifle. He fixed his gaze on Rufus’s before replying softly, ‘They were my orders.’

Rufus nodded weakly, turning away. Turks. He hated them, with their crisp blue suits and shiny pistols. He hated the way they followed his father’s orders without question. He hated them all ... and yet through it all he could not hate Tseng, only the suit he wore, and that made the hurt all the worse. ‘Then I mean nothing to you ...?’

Tseng was taken aback by Rufus’s words, unsure of how to answer such a question. He had always been a man of short words, but now he had to choose those words carefully for fear of Rufus’s life. ‘Not nothing.’ Tseng corrected, reaching out to take the gun from his slackening grasp. ‘Too much.’

Rufus scoffed slightly at this. He had heard enough of Tseng’s beautiful lies. He had heard enough of them the previous night, as well as every night they had shared before. Part of him knew he should have seen this coming, after all no one since his mother had taken the time to care about him. And he had thought this would be any different? An illicit affair with a Turk of all people. He laughed at the sentiment, though it sounded more like a sob, as he turned back to face Tseng. ‘It would have been easier if they hadn’t missed. You would be doing your duty. I would be dead. No more lies to cover up the bloodless fiend that you are.’ He said bitterly, turning to meet Tseng’s dark gaze. ‘It would have made things simpler had I died.’

‘You should get away from the window,’ Tseng replied, almost absently, turning away at last to flick the safety back in place on the pistol and set it on the desk. There was a moment of silence before he turned back to face Rufus and continued, honest to a fault, ‘It would have, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to see you dead. My actions, as your bodyguard, are inexcusable. But I never made any illusions over my purpose here, sir. I am first and foremost a Turk, and I receive my orders from your father.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps I am a bloodless fiend.’

‘My father.’ He mused with a slight laugh. He should have known. And while part of him found grim satisfaction in his father’s reaction when he learned that his little assassination attempt was a failure, it changed nothing. ‘I’m surprised his orders weren’t for you to carry it out yourself.’ Narrowing his eyes, he glared at Tseng, ‘You could have conveniently shot me while I slept beside you.’

To this, he had no answer. He knew well what Rufus would have liked to hear, but he doubted he would believe him regardless. Too much had been lost between the two within the matter of moments, and he knew that nothing would ever restore that trust. ‘My orders were to stay out of the way.’ He replied at last. ‘But you must believe me; I would not have done something so dishonourable as to use our relationship to the advantage of this.’

He silently turned the words over in his mind, and blinking back tears he turned to meet Tseng’s gaze. ‘But had they been your orders ... would you have?’ He had always known that Turk’s duty came first in every aspect of their lives ... he didn’t see why this would be any different had the orders been for Tseng to carry them out.

Don’t ... Rufus, please. Don’t ask me to answer that. Not for the first time since the entire ordeal started was he torn between duty and emotions. Rufus’s teary gaze did nothing to help the situation, as he tried to find the words that might appease him. ‘I don’t know. I only am thankful that it never came to me having to make that decision.’

Rufus nodded weakly in response, wondering if Tseng had even tried to intervene, or if he had simply blindly followed orders, all personal feelings aside. Turning away from Tseng once more, he ordered softly, ‘Just leave ... report to my father that the attempt was a failure, and see to it that next time he sends you to carry out the task.’

That was the end of it, then, of everything. The assassination attempt had failed to kill Rufus, but the sniper’s bullet had hit its mark in more ways than one. Perhaps a part of him could have been more content in allowing Rufus to die, oblivious to the conspiracy surrounding him. Instead, he was now aware of the fact that his lover was a traitor, and things between them could and would never be the same again. ‘Sir,’ he said quietly, then pivoted on his heel and headed toward the door, though a hand swept out to scoop up the pistol from the desk and slide it into his jacket before he slipped out the door, still fearful that Rufus would use the weapon to do violence upon himself.

And as Tseng walked out of the little world they had built together, Rufus cursed himself for ever allowing the Turk in. For ever allowing him to tear to down his barriers and rebuild them at once, to make him feel for the first time since a child. With Tseng he had been human, vulnerable and he had used those emotions against him, and now Rufus was left with nothing but the crystalline shards of their shattered domain. Leaning against the wall to steady himself, he wept silent tears.