The… thing was still sitting up there, high in the creaking old rafters, when Tseng entered the church on quiet feet.

The chimera-esque creature loomed upright on its perch, alert and ready, its long neck angled so it could watch the Turk below it. With its silvery body and its white wings, crippled though as one was, it could have almost fit into this once religious place. It could have almost seemed beautiful, serene even.

But not to Tseng. He did not like its presence in the rickety old building, and professionality be damned, he did not make any effort to hide it. It didn't matter if it had not done anything wrong yet, or that it supposedly shared some genes with the SOLDIER 1st class Angeal Hewley. It was a monster, one of Shinra's warped experiments, and if it had gone his way, Tseng would have shot the hellish thing down the moment he had set eyes on it for the first time, all those years ago.

But of course things did not go his way.

"Tseng," the melodic voice echoed of the high walls and ceiling, the commanding, exasperated tone at odds with the kindness usually present there. "Stop glaring at him. You're being rude to my bodyguard."

The Turk breathed out slowly, a long blink the only hint to the annoyed sigh he had swallowed just there.

"You do realize," he answered evenly without even redirecting his gaze to the girl, "that that is our job."

Aerith's laughter bounced off the walls like ricocheting bullets. "When have you ever been my bodyguard? More like a guard in front of my cage."

He had taken stabs through gaps in his bulletproof outfit which had been less pointed. Of course she was right. She had been too smart for her own good, too aware of the situation she was in, ever since he had met her.

Above him, the creature's tail lashed, head tilting to the side. He had the nasty feeling that the thing was laughing at him. It only made his glaring turn even icier.

A sigh. "Tseng. That was not supposed to be an insult. I'm sorry. Please, I did not want to see you today just to fight."

One last sharp look at the beast before he finally lowered his gaze to look up ahead, towards the flower field that grew her all year and nowhere else.

Aerith had risen from her crouch by now, meeting his eyes evenly. There were stains on the front of her dress from her gardening but she did not seem to notice or mind. Instead she reached to check the fit of the now so familiar pink ribbon holding her ponytail together, as it always had ever since-…

Tseng blinked again, hard. Smothering any thought on the man who had gifted it to her, sealing them away in the recesses of his mind. He could not allow to let any of it show on his face in the following conversation.

Until now he had avoided crossing the nave towards her but when she folded her hands, tilting her head in that expectant way of hers, there was not really any reason he could give not to. Still he kept his steps slow and measured. Delaying the inevitable for as long as he could.

"I was hoping-…"

There it was. He should not have come here. "Another?"

It's been four years, he wanted to tell her. Of course he never did. It was not his job. But then, none of this was, and he couldn't help but wonder still. Will you never give up?

It would be easier.

"This might be the last one."

The declaration seemed so in tune with his thoughts that it made him pause, faltering slightly. Had he misheard…?

But, no. Aerith was indeed frowning down at the envelope in her hand - pristine and with four swooping letters in the middle of it, just like each one before this one – as if she was considering taking it back. "This might be the last one," she repeated, voice softer this time. Looking up, she flashed him a wobbly smile, shrugging. "I mean, it's kind of silly to keep writing if I never get an answer, right…?"

There was something hopeful in her voice. As if she waited for him to disagree. For him to encourage her to keep trying.

Of course he didn't. He did not agree with her, either, made no sound or move at all while he kept watching her until the half-smile slept of her face and she sighed. Held the envelope out to him with both hands. "Please?"

Just like all the other times, he took the envelope and slipped it into the breast pocket of his suit before he can overthink it. He will do so later, in the quiet of his office, with a box marked as "sealed" sitting in front of him. Will tell himself that he should know better than this.

But then, apparently, he did not. If he did, they would not be here right now.

Tseng expected that to be that and to be sent on his way again. Instead Aerith kept looking at him, head tilted, lips pursed.

"What?" He finally brought himself to ask.

"You are delivering them, right? You're not keeping them all for yourself?"

For one horrifying second was is as if she had read his mind and saw the sealed box there in his memories. Of course that was not possible however, and he forced himself to keep breathing evenly, to not let his expression twitch.

It must have worked, since Aerith snorted rather unladylike and shook her head, whirling away from him. "Just kidding! I know you wouldn't do something like that."

She left him there to go back to tending to her flowers. He should have taken the opportunity and slipped away, left her to it before she could throw him off again.

Instead he found himself frozen to the spot. Found treacherous ideas passing through his mind as he watched her skip away and felt the envelope burn against the spot on his chest.

He could tell her – tell her about the breakout they had been informed hours ago, two "samples" escaping and apparently head in the direction of Gongaga. Tell her about the lost connection with Cissnei, right after she had lied in his face about having lost the target.

Could tell her that there is only one man outside the ranks of turks for whom Cissnei would ignore her orders.

The very same man whose name was imprinted on 87 plus one letters Tseng had been tasked with delivering.

But all of that was classified information and even thinking about sharing any of it might already with treason. Being here and accepting these letters was already pushing it, and he knew better - should know better than pushing and pushing until something gives.

So what instead left his lips was -

"Why me?"

Instantly Tseng wished he could take the words back. He had not meant to say that out loud. It had been on his mind for a long time, a lament – or as close to lamenting as he ever got – nagging and prodding whenever she called him here, whenever he had to seal another letter away unopened, unread, another mark of failure branded into his mind.

Why him? Why not Rude, who would have denied her request in that direct-yet-not-harsh way he had. Why not Reno, who would have flopped his hand at her and made a snide comment and the subject would have never come up again.

Why bring him into this situation he felt he could not escape from?

It was out in the room now, and it was obvious that even as low as the words had been, Aerith had heard them and understood them when she paused and turned back, eyes surprised and wide and so goddamned searching.

And then she had to make everything worse by humming thoughtfully before smiling. A real, honest smile like the one she so rarely directed at him. Trusting and full of light."Because bodyguard or not, you're dependable. Even I know that. So… I'm counting on you, Tseng."

All air left him in a rush as if he had been punched in the gut. He felt like that just happenedfor real, because did she even know – had she any idea -

It had been four years now, four years of time and more important things, and by all means he should have forgotten about it, because it had not been an official job, simply a silly promise between… acquaintances…, the fervent words of a naïve young man thinking he could count on Tseng, could make him promise something and hold him to it just by staring at him with sincere blue eyes and his heart on his sleeve, trusting-

But Tseng had not forgotten, could not, when it was still ringing loud and clear in his head even after all these years, and when he had honored it every single day since.

"You're the only one I can depend on."

"H-Hey! Why are you laughing?!"

"I'm counting on you."

Tseng whipped around on his heels and strode towards the old double gates and into the gloomy slums beyond them without ever turning around or saying a single word. He did not pause to send the damned chimera a last warning look just for the sake of it, didn't tune back in to hear if Aerith tried to stop him and call him back.

He did not stop or slow down until he was back up on the plate, back in HQ, back in his office with the door slamming shut behind him.

Several times on the way there, the idea of drawing out the letter from his breast pocket and throwing it into the nearest dump crossed his mind.

He never did.

The letter found its way into the sealed box, along with 87 others of its kind.

And Tseng went back to waiting on a phone call that would, hopefully, finally relieve him off all of them once and for all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ VII ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the phone call came-…

It was the opposite of everything Tseng had hoped for.

It was Rude who called him – not Cissnei. The moment he had seen the number flash on his screen he had known something was wrong because Cissnei had been the one who had wanted to call once the job was, she had been the one tasked on preserving his life and if she did not call now –

He took the call and listened to Rude's calm voice retelling what they had discovered.

They had found him off the road to Midgard, not too far from the city, surrounded by half a battalion of infantrymen.

Zack Fair had fallen in one last stand that had been equally as heroic as it was hopeless, but apparently had succeeded in one last thing – letting the one accompanying him get away.

One fugitive dead. The other missing.

It could have been only minutes that they arrived too late, Rude reported, the blood had not yet soaked into the mud below it, the body was still warm even though it had rained. There were still fresh footprints leading towards Midgard, and if they followed them right now-…

Tseng disconnected the call with a "no further pursuit" and a decisive click. He had not been listening after the first bit of information, anyway. There was simply no point in chasing after someone who had been of no interest to them, anyway, and…

His gaze was riveted by the box sitting in the middle of his desk, brimming up to the rim with letters. 88 one of them, all unopened, unread.

What did it matter, now?

Zack Fair was dead, and the letters would never reach their destination.