FF7 fanfic; Ghosts/Hope, pre-AC piece

Chatper one:

... The world blazed on

Scraping claw against glass, ghosts hover just outside the windows on nights of a new moon. They rattle there chains and scrape against the windows moaning with the voices of a thousand scars and hundred toments.

Those were the ghosts that she was comfortable with.

Hands white with the force of her grip she said nothing, gently, mutely, pulling the phone away from he ear so she wouldn't have to hear the voice on the other end. It had been a slow night, buisness was slow with a pandemic going on, with her sole customer was sleeping away his indulgence at the table. Fishing the card out from her pocket the'd indulged a whim, and for that whim all the ghosts of her past reared up thier heads with an aweful cry.

They spoke with the voices of burning, the splinter of wood shattering was there motions, the smoke the form of thier voice.

"I hate them... I hate them all!"

And around her the world seemed to burn, closing her eyes she could smell the scent of ash and taste the flavor of flame. Bitter and bright. Still, not all ghosts were bitter, some found place in the form of manners and tact. She lift the phone to it's tradiional place, rising her shoulder to better brace the arch of the receptiple.

"I appologize sir, it sems as if I-"

"Called the right number, babe?" The voice held a familiar leer, she could almost see the speaker's green eyes thin with wicked amusement. There came an odd sound, a static stuffed disturbance than the familiar voice rose in a whine that had nothing of it's previous leer.

"Oh come on boss-man, seriously, I was just bein' friendly-like!"

"Your "friendly" sounds suspiciously like "sexual harassment", Reno."

No names needed, no introductions were tendered, only a sense of motion carried over the wavelenth as alien sounds assaulted her ears. When the speaker on the other end took complete control of the situation and spoke his soft voice twined with memories and acidic smoke.

"Ms. Lockheart?"

She couldn't speak, for the shock if it all, the hand hiolding the phone shook. Though her agonies were silent, somehow, someway, he knew. And, like always, he addressed the issue with a passionless candor that was the trademark of his kind.

"This isn't a trap, Ms. Lockheart." A chuckle, cold and absently cruel sheared through the silence. "If it were I would be mad to leave a return adress on the envelope." She folded to the unspoken prompt. Picking up the envelope she considered it with the msot untraditional of holds. A childish throwback that wasn't lost in smoke and fire... Index finger enduring the poke of a point apiece she held the envelope suspended by it's upper edges. Wit hteh barest of nudges the paper swung as if it were on a hinge. Clean, printed... "Even Turks have thier honor."

"I know him better than anyone else.... He's the only one who's known me my whole life..."

She caught the paper mid swing, stilling the motion with the quick inerception of her thumbs.

"Why?"

"Because it's needed."

She hung undecided between her two options of aceptance and denial. Now that her first surge of aldrenaline driven impulse -"Hang up!" Screamed her nerves, the memories- had somewhat abated she found her gaze going up. The fire fadded to insignificance in the face of a staiway, and that's all she could see now. In her mind and her heart therre was the stairway, tall, looming, it's twentish some steps seemed too daunting for words.

"Tseng." The nominitive came hesiantly, the lack of vehamence to her tone brought home the obvious. The man's name was a Wutia name, the man who bore it should have been an enemy of Shinra. Instead it's owner was Shinra's most loyal right hand man. From the vault of memory came the while of blades, the roar of an engine who's rumbles set her bones to throb and he hands to aching. "That day... Did you walk Marleen home?"

Perhaps startled by the quiry, or the familair use of his name, the Turk was silent a good long time. Finally, grudgingly, the answer came. "Yes." It was offered in a whisper, a confession that was barely uttered and that alluded to a glimmering of forbiden humanity and forsaken humor. "The slums, then and now, are hardly suitable for children to be let loose in."

"Run loose." She corected him absently, her own -Courage? Familiarity?- whatever it was... Language failed to provide the word, so she le it slide, forgotten for nwo. Her ongue, ignoring heard and head was hardly going to relinquish it's place in the lead. "Children run loose, caged creatures liek Chocobos are let loose."

A sigh, exasperate, came form the Turks' end. That sound was the only concession Tseng made that he'd even heard her words. His next statement was mired in assumption, laced with confidence, and served with his omnipresent accent in ready attendence.

"Speaking of children, it has come to my attention that one in your care is ill. Transportation will be provided in twenty four hours time to the residence of the return address upon your mail, Ms Lockheart."

Limbo had claimer her, she hung between extreams being pulled along by a decision taken out of her hands.

"Ten AM, sharp?" She wondered why he bothered to ask. His question was more demand than inquiry.

"Ti-fa!"

"I..." Licking her lips, head craning to look up the stairs she longed to just hang up, to go to ore important things. "I have to go." The words came out in a breathy rush, guilt laden, remorse choked.

"Ten AM, than." The Turk arrifmed, satisfaction warming the man's tone until it sounded human. Tifa wasn't listening though, and missed the man's lapse. She'd alrady hung up and was on her way to more important things, taking the stairs three at a time.

X

"Sweetheart, baby!" Poking his head out the car - a black, sleek, sullen, beast that ghroweld even in park- his red hair was a bloody hued attention grabber. Bold green eyes glinting, teeth bared in an over friendly smile. His head went up and down nodding to her angles. Despite herslef, she smiled. ou of all her ghosts thsi one wsa almost human... humane. Curious, Denzel considered the red head and the pale man left his sport of drooling to match gazes.

"So's this' the squirt, Denzel, right?" The last was the closest Reno got to a polite salutation. With an offended "hurmf" Denzel crossed his arms over his chest -one bandaged, the other not- and glowered.

"I'm not a squirt!"

To that the Turk chuckled, green eyes gleaming. Out of all the Turk's Reno seemed the most sane.

"Back's open, pile in."

Slowed by shyness and the impressed lesson of not talking to srangers, Denzel shuffled forward one hesitant step at a time.

Tifa's pace was slowed for other reasons.

Emerald eyes knowing, Reno's lips lost some of thier curl. Looking past them and into the bustling street he drummed a harsh tune on the curve of the steering wheel, totally beyond them all.

"Just don't play with the Hydra in the back seat."

"You have a Hydra in the car?" Denzal gasped, shyness lost in awe.

Having fought a few of the monsters in a lifetimes' past Tufa rose an eyebrow, her epxresion seped in skepticis. Quicker than a shot Denzel was at the car, had pulled open the nearest door, and scrambled in. Some of the lee left the Turk's face, the red head still grined and his eyes were wide with a devious twinkle housed amongst the green. It was with that expresion on his face that he explained.

"It's a kind of gun Tif. Go eight heads, spits ou eight roughts per half second. Real room wrecker, yo." Catching the woman's look of horror Reno's smile became a sadists smirk. Tenure made by context of the situation rather than the demensions of the facad. Recalling shere she'd learned taht truth first, on that day logn ago when the sky fell down -"That's all folks"- a familiar horror clutched her heart. "Now, I think I took out the bullets. Could be wrong, but ol' precog's not going off on me an' I got a mastered Wall materia on me just in case..."

"Denzel, sweetie," trying valently to keep the fear out o her tone and failing utterly Tifa "piled in" as Reno had planned. "Don't paly with any guns tou find in that car you hear-"

The door clocked closed and the car's growl became a roar as Reno smashed the gas pedel into the car's floor.

X

It was oddly quiet, unnaturally so, and had been so the second the door closed. Insulated in a bullet proof frame with a catche of silence, barrier, and other defensive materias burried in the frame of thier veichle they blazed down streets, cut through freeways, and set pedestrians and moterists scattering out of the way. Entranced by the breakneck pace -made all the more distant since you couldn't hear the screams, blaring horns, or curses- Denzel pressed his nose to the glass to watch the world blaze by.

"How come you don't drive like this Tifa?" Denzel squealed, droping his normal reserve in the excitement of the moment, pale features flushed with excitement, eyes sparkling behind thier blak rings.

"Sharp turn,-" Reno barked. "-right!"

To that warningTifa acted, reaching out she braced the boy against herself and her feet against the floor. All her srentgh was just barely enough to keep them from crahsing through the window Denzel had een starign out of earlier. Even as she endured ehr stomach clenched as the car tipped and her heart only started beating agains when -with a series of jerks- all four wheels settled back on the ground. Thrown back agaisnt the seat she realized at last why the leather pads had seemed so plush. They'd been doubly insulated to accomidate for Reno's insane driving .

"Sharp turn, left!"

Holding Denzel tight she braced again, the world outside the car became a blur of color and tipped on it's other side. Teetering between the worlds of terror and aldrenaline Denzel was laughing even as he held onto her so tight that his hands were white. Another series of bone jarring hops heraleded the car's return to equilibrium. When her bones stopped rattling and her teeth ceased chattering she loosened her grip. Denzel was squirming free even before she was ready to let him go, and he eagerly went to the window to better watch the world roll by.

"The reason I don't drive like Reno, sweetie, is because Reno drives like a lunitic."

Too enchanted with the kelidoscope of scenery Denzel didn't hear. A flash of white bracketed by red caughter Tifa's eye, and told her at least one of the two males present at least was listening. Reno smiled, an ear to ear grin, and that smie's context was left for the viewer to wonder about - for at least half a minute before he revealed his sadists intent.

"Hey, it's a straight line from Midgar to Healin' for like the next thirty miles, should I gun it?"

One cheer served as all the answer Reno needed, withj a laugh the Turk hit the gass peddle with a foot of lead.

X

Even at break neck speeds a tree was a tree. Velocity aside it would always remain a tree, and on the off chance of colision would seem to solid a tree. Like it always did, impac confirmed the obvious, a tree was a tree no matter the speed you passed it by. Soon this truth came home to roost and what was once exciting became dull. With a yawn he sumbled onto truth and sleep one after another. Obliging to the comotose state of one of his passangers the Turk eased up on the speed until they were only ten miles abothe the speed limit. Green eyes condiered them both from the glassy facade of the rear view mirror.

"Both of you look like hell."

She smiled, shook he head, her black hair tickling her ears and slaping at the back of her neck.

"Sweetheart you look like you haven't slept in a week, and he's paler than a relcuse Midrgar slum rat from under the plate."

Touching the tips of Denzel's fingers -as much of his right hand she dared touch- Tifa said nothing, only looked up at the glass until the reflected eyes drifted back down.

"I'm not sayin' you're makin' the bad chocie here," He laughed a harsh back of a laugh. "A Turk's not 'xactly morally equiped to say what's right and all, ya know?"

She squeezed Denzel's finger tips gently, and signed.

"Regrets, Reno?"

"Sometimes, ya live with 'em." He shrugged with enough force to wrinkle his black suit some around the top. "Tricky span up ahead." The red head drawled, eyes locked on the perfectly smooth and empty span stretched before them. "So I'll ask nice-like for you to shut up now, yo."

Closing her eyes Tifa meant only to rest them and honor his request. She left the world of the awake before the count of ten heartbeats had come and gone, lost in the bliss of oblivious as the world blazed on.