Don't Play With Fire (Turks FFVII)

XXXIV) Mother

The needle pushing through my forehead isn't as painful as I thought it would be. The woman leaned over me chews on her lip and shimmies closer, standing on her toes. She smells like bread and coffee, probably her lunch. Or her dinner. What time is it anyway? I don't remember. Since I can't go to Marx for my problems anymore, Reno sent me to this lady. She huffed and puffed about wanting to leave for the day, but after seeing that it was a simple stitch job, she set her bag aside and got to work.

Snipping the thread with a small pair of scissors, she steps back and admires her handiwork for a moment. "Alright, you should be set to go. Just don't rip those open and they'll heal just fine."

"When should I come back?"

"They'll go away," she shrugs, heaving her purse onto her shoulder. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to go get my kids from school before they're dropped off without a housekey and bother the neighbors." With that, she rushes out the door.

"Oddly specific," I mutter, sliding off the examination table and straightening my uniform that's stiff from salt. The halls are slowly beginning to empty for the night, making it easy to wind my way into the stairwell and climb the stairs with tired legs. I'm stopped on the way up, greeted by a broad smile and arms that are, for once, freely hanging without a load.

"There's no way you're still real," Amelia greets, stopping before me. Her eyes are alight with genuine joy. I find it confusing. "It feels like I haven't seen you in a hundred years."

"Feels that way, doesn't it?" I crack a smile and step aside to allow a train of laborers past. "Rufus been keeping you busy?"

"Is that a joke? I haven't sat down in days." She gives me a onceover, her smile never faltering. "But you probably know all about that."

For a moment, I panic, thinking that she somehow knows about my situation with the young president. But then I remember—I'm a Turk. We're supposed to be busy.

Laughing uneasily as my stomach untwists from its knots, I nod. "Yeah, it's been a little crazy."

"Any updates? My life is boring now that I'm not pacing the halls in hospitals every day." She leans against the railing, crossing her arms and pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands.

I shake my head, following suit. There's a lot that I can't tell you. "Nothing very interesting on my end, either. Found Don Corneo on accident and ended that whole ordeal."

"That sleezeball?" She rolls her eyes. "Good." After a moment, she lowers her voice, leaning a bit closer. "I heard you assisted Avalanche with their escape from execution."

"Oh, I—" My face goes red and I fumble over my words.

She shakes her head. "No, I stand by it. They're the only ones that can get us out of this, I think. Crazy to say it out loud."

"Yeah..." I press my lips together, turning my eyes to the tall glass windows to my right. The sun sets slowly over the city, but the darkness won't ever come. Not with that looming doom of Meteor hanging over our heads and threatening to blast us all into oblivion in a matter of days. What does that mean about us? Do I live like I've only got seventy-two hours left?

"Also, on a more serious note..." Amelia straightens and clears her throat, her smile fading with her retreat. "Is Tyler Marx still your primary—"

"No. I cut that off. Still would've even if Rufus hadn't ordered it."

"Rufus ordered it?" Her eyes go wide and her jaw slackens.

"Yeah. There are a lot of things I'm trying to understand about myself and he's only making things harder." I shrug, forcing myself to look her in the eye. "So I'm done."