Chapter Text
She'd said she never wanted to see him again, and it had looked like she might get her wish until she saw his dim reflection in the glass. He'd followed them into the elevator, and she knew immediately what that meant, a moment before she saw Cloud's face settle into angry realization.
There'd been a time when the sight of Rude felt like lights switched on, like everything clicked into color. There'd been a time when they couldn't walk to the station together without touching, when she'd pull him into alcoves or doorways and he'd kiss her breathless. Close to him again, she felt like every nerve in her body had come alert. Her heart was racing as if preparing her body to kiss him instead of to fight or run, as if she'd have a chance to do anything at all. She felt terribly aware of the inches between them, his presence at her back, and she steeled herself and turned to look at him.
He was wearing the sunglasses, of course, even though it was dark outside. She used to know how to read the rest of his face, or she'd thought she'd known. Looking at him now she saw no trace of recognition, no sign that seeing her again was having any effect on him; but then, why would it? She might have thought there'd been something real between them, but he hadn't had that problem. She felt him touch her bare arm lightly as he moved around her, until he was facing Cloud directly over the elevator's controls. He pointed up, and Cloud made a strangled noise. She heard a low rumble that placed itself in her mind abruptly as a growl - coming from Red XIII, the creature from the lab.
"Could you press 'up,' please?" Rude said, mildly, and then the doors hissed open again and another stepped in, wearing an identical suit and tie, his glossy black hair slicked back from his forehead. She thought it was the same one who'd been in the helicopter with Aerith. Finally, Rude reached in front of Cloud to push the button. Cloud caught her eye, but didn't move or reach for his sword, and the elevator purred upwards, smoother and quieter than anything they'd ever let people like her use freely.
She couldn't stop staring at Rude, willing some emotion into his face, some faint trace of reaction, but there was nothing. The elevator dinged, softly and discreetly, the doors opened, and the soldiers came in - with wire loops on sticks like they used for stray animals, with guns and blades and a few with materia they were holding up as threats - and from the corner of her eye she saw some movement. She turned her head and Cloud nodded; hoping she'd read him right, she tensed, but Rude had grabbed her wrists and got a cuff on one of them. Her head whipped around, and she saw guns pointed at them. Cloud's hands went up. She saw one of the MPs cuff his wrists behind his back, and take his sword. Two of them got loops of wire around Red XIII's neck.
"This is the martial artist?" the dark-haired Turk asked. No audible answer, but he nodded, apparently in response to some nod or other reaction from Rude. Behind her Rude got her other wrist into the cuffs, even though she tried to keep her arm stiff to make it harder for him. Someone reached past her to hand him some larger cuffs connected by a longer chain - ankle shackles, she thought. Then she heard a bang from further behind her, and jumped. Cloud's head came up, and Rude said "Tranquilizer dart." She tried to crane around him to look at Red XIII, whose face was twisted into a snarl - no wonder they'd wanted to tranquilize him.
"Get the humans out of here so gamma team will have room to work," the other Turk said, and she was hauled out of the elevator by one arm, after Cloud. She could see him being marched off. She looked back at the elevator, where a pair of MPs looked like they were pulling, trying to haul Red XIII out without getting near him. She wondered when the tranq would take effect, and when it would wear off, because they'd need to work on an escape. She wished Barret had been with them, but maybe he and Aerith could get out, at least.
Rude knelt to put the shackles on her; she wanted to bring her knee up into his face, but even she could recognize a lost cause with all these guns pointed at her. The cuff was heavy around her ankle, resting atop her bunched-up socks. She heard the other click into place. "Into bondage, huh?" she asked, her voice low.
"No," he said. "Orders. The president wants to see you, and we know what you can do barehanded."
"Yeah, because you were spying on us," she said bitterly. "I'm not going to try anything - I'm not suicidal."
"Orders," he repeated, then added "Take a step," in his normal tones, as he rose and stood aside. She tried to step forward, but her stride was pulled up short, and she stumbled and nearly fell. Humiliatingly, he caught her. "Try again."
"Fuck you," she retorted, feeling like she might cry, but she tried again, taking small steps, and this way she could walk, haltingly. He held her by the upper arm as they started walking, the MPs falling into step in front and behind them.
"You thought I was spying?" he asked, very quietly. She looked up at him, at the corner of his eye, visible behind the shades. He didn't look at her.
She faced forward, not looking at him, either, as she asked in a harsh whisper, "Are you trying to pretend you weren't? Why else were you there?"
He didn't answer. He didn't speak again until they reached the stairs leading upward, and then he only asked "Think you can climb?" She could, slowly and haltingly, getting both feet onto a step before she tried the next one, like a child, and he held her arm the whole way up.