Bullet Catchers

Bullet Catchers

By Jazzbo22
Jazzbo22@hotmail.com

An assassination attempt leaves Rufus questioning his vulnerability. The Turks struggle to keep the President out of harm’s way, but is it enough?

TsengxRufus, RudexReno, yaoi, angst


A/N: Thanks for the continued interest in my story! Here's more TsengxRufus, they were yelling at me for not getting enough air time. As always, drop me a review, I'd love to hear what you have to say :)


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Chapter Eight


Rufus had a fitful sleep, and judging by the darkness under Tseng’s eyes and his tight expression, the Wutaian was also suffering. Rufus was sure whatever was keeping Tseng up wasn’t the same as what was keeping him up.

“Nothing so far?” He decided to ask. Tseng shook his head.

“I honestly didn’t expect for us to have so few leads. I had hoped we could have settled this today.”

“Me too.”

After the meeting had gone wrong, Tseng had been very angry – not only for Rude and Reno, but because he had been looking forward to closing the lid on this thing. Who knew how long it was going to go on for now?

“All we can do at this moment is wait. Gomez will call if he gets anything of substance out of Falcon, and Reno is trying to put some names to those faces. There is nothing for me to do until I hear from them.” Tseng said, massaging his temples lightly. He was doing that a lot lately…

Tseng was trying to play the hero. Rufus could see it. He was trying to do everything at once, and because the mission wasn’t going as planned, he was punishing himself for it. He wasn’t used to having his perfect record disrupted like that, and Rufus could imagine that it was driving him slowly mad. There wasn’t anything that could be done though, and that realization was winding Tseng tighter and tighter. Rufus had never seen him crack – Tseng just didn’t do that, but he had heard the stories…

“I just don’t know who could be helping them…” Tseng muttered, standing. Ah, yes. Then there was the matter of the Shinra traitor. Gomez was heading that investigation right now, since he was spending the most time at HQ. Rufus knew Tseng would rather be at the building, combing through all the employees. The Wutaian always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to sifting through someone’s head. Picking out the lies. Knowing what they were thinking, what they were feeling. Rufus had been on the receiving end of Tseng’s prying stare before – it was completely unnerving, though he would never admit to it.

“Everything will fall into place. There are good men working under you.” Rufus knew he didn’t sound convincing at all, but Tseng let it slip by. After all, all this work was being done so Rufus wasn’t the one killed. All the stress, the restlessness and the overtime wasn’t for their own lives, it was for his. And damn, if that wasn’t humbling enough, Rufus didn’t know what else was.

“So long as you’re here and uninjured, then we are doing something right.” Tseng said, finally meeting Rufus’ gaze. Even though he was probably running on next to no sleep, hadn’t eaten or drank much, and in pain from his shoulder, his dark eyes didn’t betray a thing. Tseng was a strong, strong man, and Rufus felt his admiration slide up a notch. They didn’t come any better.

Tseng didn’t look away as Rufus expected he would. Usually he didn’t stand still for long, he had business to attend to, shoulders to watch over. But here they were, standing in Tseng’s kitchen, the Wutaian with the dark probing eyes just looking at him, waiting. Rufus felt his icy exterior shift, revealing something much more vulnerable. He felt his doubts and insecurities rise from a whisper to a roar, and he tore his eyes away. He was mortified. How was he expected to deal with all of this, when he had been forced to repress it all his life? He couldn’t bear to look back, worried at what Tseng might have seen, might have read from his nervous gaze.

“I should get back to my reports…”

“Rufus…”

Feeling like more of a coward for running away, Rufus turned with the intention of grabbing his briefcase and drowning himself in reports. Tseng had moved, started to follow him until his PHS went off. Thank god. He couldn’t deal with a confrontation after that. If Tseng got in his face he’d either snap and unload years of repression on him or kiss him senseless. He couldn’t see a happy ending come through either scenario.

“Tseng.” Rufus grabbed his briefcase, walking past Tseng to sit in the living room. He avoided looking at his eyes, but he listened intently to his one-sided conversation. If it were possible, he could feel Tseng’s energy, heavy in the air. Whatever was being said to him wasn’t putting him in a good mood.

“Yes sir. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Sir? Not any of his men then. There were only two people Tseng referred to as ‘sir’. The first was him. The second was Heidegger, but more in formality. Most of the time Tseng was doing his job for him. Hanging up, he turned to look at Rufus.

“I’m being called in for a meeting. I want you to stay here, if there are any problems you can call Gomez, Reno or Rude…” Rufus could feel Tseng weighing him again. He knew Tseng wanted to tack on, ‘let’s talk after’. It was all but said in his eyes. He was…concerned? Tseng let him in on that much before settling into his typical stony expression again.

He disappeared into his room, leaving Rufus out by the coffee table, reports in hand. In a matter of minutes, Tseng reemerged again, dressed in the standard navy blue Turk uniform. He always looked good in that…

Rufus turned his attention towards his reports, waiting for Tseng to leave. He didn’t need two embarrassing encounters in one day. The President eyeing his Turk in a not-so-innocent way? It would be hard to justify that.

The door closed with a barely audible ‘click’, Rufus letting out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. With Tseng out he could relax a little, but from here on out things were going to get a lot more difficult with the Turk around. Tseng had caught onto something, and he wouldn’t stop until he knew what it was. It made him an excellent employee, but completely bothersome when it pertained to personal matters. And this was definitely personal.

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“They are getting too close.”

“I know that, it’s just…”

“They need to be taken care of. All of them.”

“We anticipated the bomb would take out the two other Turks.”

“You fucked up. They are still alive. It’s unacceptable. The woman is still in the hospital as well – I thought she was going to be eliminated by now. Why hasn’t that been done?”

“…She’s…well…she’s being monitored. There’s no way around it. We tried to get through, it’s just too risky.”

“The redhead and the baldy have seen too much. At least four of my men were in there. Sooner or later they’re going to know who they are, and then we’ll be exposed.”

“Yes…we’re forming another plan. They are strong – they are going to have to be taken care of differently.”

“Better not underestimate them. You’ve done that already and look where we are? Nowhere. The President is still alive.”

“I know…”

“And you haven’t even considered President Shinra’s personal bodyguard. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the one we should be afraid of. He’s too intelligent, too driven, and too strong. We won’t be getting anywhere near Rufus until that Turk is dead.”

“…He doesn’t die easily. He’s been trained to go through a lot…”

“Yes, I’ve read his measly file. I’m surprised you don’t have more information for me. Shinra really doesn’t document their trained assassins all that well. It would seem to me you’d want more on them, in case you find yourself with a loose cannon.”

“Shinra’s never had a problem with deserter Turks. They are a tightly woven group, like family, if you will. They are also dedicated to their leader, and Tseng…well, he’s quite the leader…”

“If you bite the snake head off, things will fall apart. The Turks will lose confidence, and Rufus will be a mess. I want Tseng elimated – today.”

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Heidegger had offered Tseng a seat in his office, clearly wanting to appear more personal. Usually Tseng would stand, as meetings with his boss weren’t all that long. Seemed Heidegger had more to talk about than status reports.

Finally Heidegger cleared his throat, leaning both his elbows on his desk. Whatever he had been called in here for, it was apparently serious. Heidegger didn’t bark out his ridiculous laugh.

“I’ve been talking this over with some of the SOLDIER commanders. After Reno and Rude’s close encounter, we think it best that Rufus have more security. At a time like this, it is imperative that he is guarded around the clock. I need to know where he is – we can’t let anything happen to him.”

“President Shinra is in a safe place.” Tseng spoke evenly. Heidegger’s face flushed slightly.

“In the past, when the former President Shinra was facing death threats, he relied not only on the Turks, but on SOLDIERs as well for his security. We are wanting to extend the same offer to Rufus as well.”

“I am curious,” Tseng started. “Why, especially as the head of the Department of Administrative Research, you aren’t confident in your own Turks. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve been doing the best job so far in protecting the President. The security breach at the Supreme Conference Center was not due to us, if you recall.”

“I’m not going to sit here and argue with you Tseng. The late President Shinra was perfectly content under the protection of SOLDIERs and Turks alike.”

“And under that protection he is now referred to as ‘former’ and ‘late’. I don’t want Rufus to be called the same things as well, which is why his location is private. The less people know about him, the safer he is.”

“You don’t trust me then?”

“I can’t trust anyone right now. I mean no disrespect sir, but I don’t know who else could be listening in. I can assure you that President Shinra is safe though, and to me, that’s the most important thing.”

“Do I have to order you to divulge Rufus’ location?” Heidegger’s face was bright red, and he was clutching his fists angrily. Tseng forced himself to remain calm. He couldn’t engage in a yelling match – this had to be handled professionally.

“Ultimately, I receive my orders from the President. He has ordered me to keep his location private, which is what I plan to do. If there is a problem, I would suggest you contact him directly.”

“I will. You are dismissed Tseng. I expected better from you.” Tseng stood, taking brisk strides towards the door. This was what the meeting was about? He expected better from Heidegger.

He closed the door to his office, heading towards the elevator. The building was quiet – most people had gone
home for the day to their families, oblivious to the troubles the President faced. The Turks kept things quiet to avoid panic.

Tseng pushed the button marked ‘P1’, waiting for the elevator doors to close. It was a long way down to the parking garage, so he used the time to reflect on the meeting with Heidegger. Sometimes the man could be pushy and throw his weight around when Rufus wasn’t present. Tseng always thought that Heidegger wanted to be President of Shinra. It came as a real disappointment to Heidegger when Jack Shinra told the world he had just had a son, the future heir to the company. Tseng remembered that day, even though he wasn’t an employee then. It had been all over the news, and the papers in subsequent days.

Tseng had been ten at the time, interested in Shinra even then and keeping himself up-to-date on all the news. He had seen the excitement in President Shinra’s eyes as he told the world his good news, and had seen Heidegger’s solemn face standing beside him as the whole world found out that Shinra Inc would eventually be taken over by this little, blue-eyed baby.

He joined Shinra just over six years later, scouted for his enormous potential and sent to work with the best. It was then that he first met Heidegger, and had heard enough bitter stories about how he loathed that President Shinra had a son, since it limited his own opportunities to work up the corporate ladder.

Since Rufus has taken over the Presidency though, Heidegger had become docile, resigned to the fact that this was the way it was going to go.

Tseng was a bit surprised at Heidegger’s pushiness. It came as a real shock that the former President Shinra had been murdered right in his own office, so he would’ve thought that Heidegger would have enough faith in his Turks to do right by Rufus the second time round. They weren’t even dealing with Sephiroth this time – it was a bunch of no-good terrorists wanting to get a rise out of the company.

The elevator ‘dinged’, opening. Tseng stepped off, into the parking garage. There were only a few cars left, family vans or Volkswagens. His was the only car that stood out – the Mercedes, a beautiful car. A frightening symbol. Unlocking the car door, he sat down, placing the key in the ignition.

The car rumbled, but didn’t turn over. Tseng tried again, the same thing happened. To anyone else, this would be frustrating. But this didn’t happen, unless…

“Fuck!” Tseng bolted, running for any sort of cover. He managed to duck behind the front tire of a Montana before an explosion rocked him off his feet, the sound echoing off the concrete of the garage and deafening him. His car had burst into flames, sending various pieces flying across the garage, parts connecting with other vehicles and showering him in broken glass.

He had been too close. The flames were scorching, he had been burned slightly when he fell to the ground. Sitting up, he tried to assess the damage done. His ears were still ringing, and he was bleeding in several places. Nothing seemed too severe – mostly shallow slices from broken glass, a car part had connected with his hip. Nothing was broken though, as far as he could tell. The most blood was coming from his shoulder.

Pulling his tie loose and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his dress shirt, he lifted it to have a look. He had ripped nearly all the stitches from his bullet wound – it was bleeding significantly.

Pulling out his PHS, he held it to his ear, using his other hand to apply pressure on his bullet wound.

“Gomez.”

“I need you to pick me up, two blocks south of Shinra HQ, now.” Tseng barked.

“Roger that.”

He hung up, pocketing his phone and bolting from the parking garage. Whoever had planted the bomb in his car would be along shortly to see whether or not they had gotten him, and he didn’t want to be standing around waiting. Best to make it seem they had won, at least until the flames died down.


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Rufus had spent the entire time torturing himself with what he thought Tseng thought. It would have been better to get the talking and accusations out of the way before Tseng had left, so he could at least have some shred of concentration.

It frustrated him and made him feel inadequate to a degree. He wasn’t even strong enough to deal with his own feelings. It wasn’t even the sexual tension that was getting to him – he had brought women to his bed before to satisfy his urges, but it was always strictly impersonal. This though, what he was feeling for Tseng, what he wanted – it was so much more than just his body wanting his. He wanted to know who Tseng was, and in the process, wanted to rediscover himself again. He wanted to indulge in the things that had been taken away from him – humiliated by his mother and father to become this icy person. Sometime he wanted to talk to the real him that got pushed away, find out what he was really like.

Rufus looked up as the front door was unlocked. He pushed his reports into a neat pile, watching as Tseng came through the door. This was not what he expected.

“Holy shit! What happened?” He had jumped up from the couch and was coming towards Tseng’s side before he had managed to close the door.

“Stay.” Tseng snapped, closing and locking the door behind him. Rufus could’ve smacked himself. Good idea, running in front of the open door. Put all Tseng’s hard work at keeping his location secret a waste. He waited until Tseng was finished with the door before approaching again, taking in his appearance.

Tseng didn’t look good. He was scraped up, bleeding, and his shoulder –

Blood was all down the front of his shirt and jacket, leaking through his fingers where he had applied pressure to the wound.

Rufus instinctively threw Tseng’s arm over his shoulder, leading the Wutaian to the bathroom. Tseng didn’t argue, didn’t fuss – he let Rufus maneuver him onto the toilet seat, let him gently remove his tie and jacket.

Rufus unbuttoned Tseng’s dress shirt, helping his bad shoulder through the fabric, knowing he must’ve been causing the Turk some pain. Tseng’s expression didn’t betray anything though – it was eerily blank.

“Your med kit?”

“Hallway closet.” Tseng answered, finally looking down to inspect the damage. Rufus went to the closet, grabbing the med kit as well as a few towels. He rinsed one in warm water, cleaning the blood up as best he could. Right now his primary concern was the open bullet hole in Tseng’s shoulder.

“I need to clean it.” Rufus said, sifting through the contents of the kit.

“There’s whiskey in the kitchen.” Tseng said, pressing the damp washcloth over the wound. Rufus raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you have anything more…medical? That’s really going to sting.”

“I usually go to the hospital, but that really isn’t an option right now.” Rufus left the bathroom, in search of the whiskey. He would get the full story from Tseng soon, even if he had to pry it from him.

Finding the whiskey, he grabbed the bottle and returned to the washroom. Tseng had laid out a needle and thread atop a sterilized pad.

“You’re going to?” Rufus was surprised. He hadn’t thought about the stitches. Sure, it was a bad wound, but he thought he would just bandage it. Wow, Tseng was actually going to do that? To himself?

“Unless you want to? I’ve done it before so don’t worry if it makes you queasy. It’s just an awkward angle for me…”

Rufus uncapped the bottle of whiskey, handing it to Tseng. He watched, cringing inwardly as Tseng poured it into the bullet wound, hissing as it made contact with his skin. He made quick work of his other scrapes, using less whiskey than he had for the first wound. After he was finished, he tilted the bottle to his lips, swallowing a generous amount. He didn’t even make a face…

Placing the bottle on the counter, he threaded the needle with surprisingly nimble fingers. Tying a knot, he looked up at Rufus, holding the needle out.

“Can…would you?” Here was this man, obviously dragged through the shitter, bleeding and burned in several places, and all he wanted was for Rufus to stitch him up? He could do that. Taking the needle, he knelt before Tseng, holding his breath as he pierced the skin. All Tseng did was grunt. Rufus tried to be as quick as possible, hoping the discomfort was minimal. Tseng was breathing deep, controlling himself, focusing on anything but the pain.

When he was done, Rufus tied a knot at the end, using a tiny pair of medical scissors to cut the rest of the thread.

“Does anything else need stitching?” He asked, placing the needle on the counter. He reached into the kit, pulling out a piece of gaze and adhesive. Tseng waited patiently while Rufus covered the wound, securing it with the adhesive.

“No, every other cut seems to be shallow. No broken glass in there.” Rufus pulled out more bandages, patching up Tseng as best as he could. He sat still, waiting until Rufus finally stepped away.

“Any cuts on your legs?” Rufus asked. Tseng shook his head.

“I got hit in the hip and thigh with debris, so I’m just bruised. It’s okay.”

“…debris?” Rufus asked, leaning against the counter. Tseng nodded, reaching into the medical kit. He pulled out a bottle of ointment, though he didn’t elaborate. Uncapping it, he squirted a generous amount into his palm before rubbing it into all his burns. They weren’t bad, but looked aggravated.

“What happened?”

“Are you okay?” Tseng asked, looking at Rufus. Really looking at him. He was doing that prying thing again. Rufus turned away.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“I think you do.” Tseng said, capping the ointment. He tossed it back into the kit.

“Tseng, what happened out there?”

“You know that you can talk to me.” Tseng stood, washing his hands. Rufus moved away, though it wasn’t necessarily to give him more room.

“I’m just stressed.” It was a thin lie, one that Tseng would be able to see through. He didn’t comment though. Instead, he leaned down to splash his face, removing any dirt or soot that had smeared his complexion. Grabbing a towel, he patted himself dry.

Rufus wanted to leave the washroom, go back to his work, but his feet were cemented in place. Tseng turned to him, seeming much bigger, much more imposing. Rufus stared up at him.

“When are you going to answer my question?” He asked. Tseng raised an eyebrow.

“When are you going to answer mine?”

As if Rufus could just tell him what was on his mind. Tseng didn’t know how complicated it all was, he wouldn’t be able to understand. Whatever happened to him – someone had come after him, that was obvious – Rufus didn’t want to come clean, certain Tseng would turn his back on him. He would find out that guarding Rufus was a waste of his time and his life.

“I can’t.”

“If you can’t trust me Rufus, how can you expect me to be able to protect you? I need you to trust me.”

“It isn’t about trust.” Rufus’ feet were working again, much to his relief. He left the bathroom faster than he intended, speedwalking right to the living room. Tseng was gliding along right behind him, his perfect shadow. Rufus sat, fussing with his reports, finding anything to do except look at him.

Tseng placed a hand over his, another on his shoulder. Rufus stopped, meeting his eyes. Tseng was looking at him with a mixture of concern and exhaustion.

“I can’t sleep.” Rufus blurted out, knowing that it was only the tip of the iceberg. It was the truth though, he knew his appearance could attest to that much. Tseng nodded, placing his hands on the back of Rufus’ neck. He applied pressure, rotating his fingers on the muscle, loosening him up.

“From time to time you have to listen to your body. Right now I can feel the tension within you. Remember what I said about focusing on your energy sources? You have to do this or else you’ll wind yourself too tight, and you’ll never enter a restful state. Meditate on your energy. You can feel it passing through you. You’ll also feel the tension leave your body.” Tseng was doing that thing again, pressing down and massaging. It was all in innocence, meant to relax him and make him tired, but the contact, and the heat from Tseng’s body was doing anything but.

His doubts were bubbling forth once again. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head, humiliating him, striking him down. Telling him that he was unacceptable. His father belittling him for his weaknesses, making him feel more worthless and insignificant than he already was. Telling him he would have no political career, that his aspirations would be short lived, and that he would be nothing until the day he died.

He also thought of that day, standing on the podium, Tseng putting himself in front of that bullet. Tseng’s life was so much more important than his own. People loved and admired him. His Turks would do anything for their fearless leader. They served Rufus only out of obligation.

The terrorists should have put him out of his misery. His entire life was lived in falsehood, his pretentious image his only safeguard. The icy bastard was his only security, his defense mechanism. He had no friends. The Turks were loyal to him because he gave them their paychecks. He had been crafted and manipulated into the man he was today only because the person deep within him was weak and unacceptable. Not someone worth jumping in front of a bullet for.

“Rufus?” Horrified, Rufus rubbed at his eyes. He had started crying sometime in his thoughts, his tears a steady flow. Disgraced, he started to pull away, but Tseng had a firm grip on his arm. He forced Rufus to sit back down.

“It’s okay. Sometimes people get emotional while their negative energy is worked away.” Still with this energy thing. Rufus knew it was a Wutaian method, it obviously worked because Tseng was still standing with no sleep and no food. His problems ran deeper than an emotional release of negativity.

Tseng placed his hand under Rufus’ chin, tilting his head up. He wanted to probe again, Rufus knew it. He couldn’t get more vulnerable than he was already, and Tseng was going to take advantage of this opportunity. He felt like a sobbing girl, even though deep down he knew he wasn’t sobbing. It was a manly cry…he hoped. Silent tears. Embarrassing for him.

Finally he looked at Tseng, trying to regain some composure, save face a bit. He couldn’t think of an excuse though – there was dust in the air! …wasn’t going to cut it.

Tseng was patient, his eyes soft, warm. This man had a hundred different expressions, and knew when to use each one. Rufus didn’t take him for the sensitive type. Then again, when it came to Tseng, he proved everyone wrong all the time.

“You know you don’t have to put up your front with just me around.” Tseng finally said, recognizing Rufus’ attempt to slide back into icy, indifferent mode. Rufus wasn’t even going to play dumb – he knew the Turk was well aware of his ‘office face’. People weren’t one-dimensional. He had always relaxed slightly when it was just he and Tseng, though right now he felt anything but.

Tseng was wiping his eyes, sitting across from him wearing only his navy dress pants. He was banged up, covered in scrapes and bruises, but he still looked like the leading man.

Rufus enjoyed the feel of Tseng’s fingers on his face, brushing away the last of the moisture from his eyes. He leaned into the touch, wanting to be pulled closer, wanting more.

“Tseng…” It was just a name, but the way it left Rufus’ lips, breathy and suggestive dragged him back to reality. Eyes widening, Rufus pulled back, away from him, wishing he could put the world between them. Tseng sat completely still, no doubt clued in to Rufus’ inner turmoil. He didn’t look revolted, it didn’t seem like he was going to get up and leave. Rufus wanted him to, just to save him from the shame.

Instead, Tseng leaned closer, dangerously so, looking at him with almost a predatory gleam in those onyx eyes.

“What do you want, Rufus?” This was so unexpected. Rufus didn’t even know how to answer. His mouth had gone dry. He licked his lips, surprised at the interest his tongue drew from the older man. Since when…did Tseng…?

“Say it.” He was close, inches away, watching, waiting for him. It occurred to Rufus that he wasn’t going to go any further until he said so. Until he admitted to himself that what he wanted…was sitting right in front of him. God, did Tseng actually know what was going on in his head, and was forcing him in a roundabout way to confront it? Was he really that obvious? Tseng was good, he was observant and far too intelligent, but how could he…

“Tseng…”

“Tell me.”

“…you.” It was one word, so innocent by itself, but for Rufus to say it – he felt his inner demons surge forth, ready to crush his confidence and fill his head with insecurities. That one word took more effort to say than he had thought.

Tseng silenced the roaring in his head by leaning forward, capturing his mouth in a gentle yet possessive kiss. Rufus should’ve figured that Tseng was smooth on all accounts. He opened Rufus up with next to no effort, slipping his tongue in between breathless, parted lips, stroking, exploring, and dominating him. He thought about battling with Tseng, asserting his own dominance, but it was clear that Tseng would take what he wanted. The man in control right now wasn’t Rufus. It was the Wutaian with the experienced tongue and the soft, yet strong lips.

Rufus hadn’t kissed a man since his teenage years. He wasn’t used to being the submissive one, whereas Tseng seemed to be quite comfortable in his position right now. He knew the Turk was older, more experienced…it didn’t seem like this was his first time with a man…

Tseng bit his lip lightly, flicking his tongue over the abused skin. A moan escaped Rufus before he could contain it, but it didn’t seem to startle Tseng. In fact, in only made him kiss deeper, more thoroughly. Rufus was breathing haggardly, too caught up in his passion to take deep, controlled breaths. Tseng finally pulled away, probably thinking that Rufus was going to start hyperventilating soon.

“I wasn’t sure if you…wanted me.” Tseng started. He still looked composed. Rufus was sure he looked far from it.

“I do.”

“That explains a lot then.”

“How come you didn’t say anything?” Rufus asked. If Tseng felt the same way, which it seemed he did, why was he only hearing about it now? As far as he was concerned, Tseng hadn’t given him any indication that he was interested at all, up until now. Tseng actually looked slightly sheepish.

“I couldn’t just…I’ve wanted you. I’ve worked under your father for sixteen years. I found myself becoming interested when you were appointed vice-President, but it would’ve been inappropriate for me to act anything less than professional.”

“So you were just going to wait…?”

“If you seemed interested. Which you do. But I wanted you to reach that place on your own, without anyone…I have an idea of what your upbringing was like. I was around your parents enough to know what kind of people they were. So yes, I was going to wait, until you figured out what you wanted.”

“Were you alone all that time?” Now Rufus was fishing. He wanted to know how Tseng got that experienced mouth of his. If that was any indication, the rest of him was probably the same, which made him a little jealous. Now he was getting possessive?

“Well…no. I’ve had lovers.”

“…men?”

“In my culture, it isn’t abnormal to have lovers from both sexes.” Tseng admitted. “It’s about respecting the soul first and foremost, regardless of the gender.”

Rufus had more questions, but was interrupted by Tseng’s PHS. He disappeared to the bathroom to fetch it out of his suit jacket, leaving Rufus on the couch, mind whirling. Was this all really happening? Did Tseng actually want him from the time he was nineteen? It was only three years, but that was still a significant amount of time. Now that Rufus thought about it, he started paying attention to the Wutaian long before then.

Tseng stayed in the bathroom to take his call, Rufus only hearing his muffled voice. He caught ‘explosion’ and ‘car’. Tseng still hadn’t told him how he was injured.

He came out of the washroom after a few minutes, looking none too pleased. Rufus decided to ask his question again.

“What happened?” He motioned towards the cuts adorning Tseng’s chest, face and arms, as well as the purpling bruise on his hip. Tseng sighed, placing his PHS on the coffee table.

“Sometime during my meeting with Heidegger, someone put a bomb in my car.” Rufus’ eyes widened slightly. “As you can see, I clued on in time. I managed to take cover behind another vehicle before it exploded.”

“How did they know you were going to be there?”

“That’s what I was wondering.” Tseng had his menacing face on again. “Either they’re monitoring the parking lot, or someone had clued them in that I would be arriving.”

“No one else knew you were going to the meeting, except…”

“Heidegger. Which is troubling, considering the entire meeting was about him wanting to know where you are. Right now they still think I’m dead. We don’t have a lot of time before they realize I’m not.”

“What’s going to happen?” Rufus was shocked. He didn’t think Heidegger had the balls to off him and take out his own Turks.

“Reno and Rude have been notified. We’re using this to our advantage. Soon Heidegger will know we’ve caught onto him.” Rufus nodded. Tseng didn’t need to tell him that things were about to get ugly.



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