CHAPTER XVI

Tifa had rarely in her life felt this uncomfortable. Brent had picked her up shortly before noon and they had gone to the hospital to see Karisa. Brent had seemed to pay real attention to her daughter, more so than usual. He had brought another stuffed animal with him, a giraffe this time. Her daughter had been thrilled. It would have been a pleasant day except for the unanswered questions in Tifa's mind.

She had been dying all day to question Brent about his son, but the hospital hadn't been the place to do it. So the whole day she had been on pins and needles. Brent had noticed, asking her why she seemed so edgy, but she had brushed it off at the time, giving an excuse that she was just concerned about her daughter.

Now, here they were, finally, in her apartment. She hung up their coats in the closet, then walked into the kitchen to start dinner while Brent sat down on the couch and turned on the television. Now that it came down to it she wasn't sure how to approach this. Should she ask right away, or should she wait until after dinner? She didn't think she could wait, it had been bad enough not being able to say anything at the hospital, but she was worried how he would react. If it was just some weird coincidence he really didn't have any reason to be mad at her, but she couldn't always judge how he would react. Would he feel like she brought him here just to ask him about this, would he feel like she had just invited him over to interrogate him, to lead him into a trap? And if he did react that way, what would she do?

She was beginning to realize this might not be as easy as she had thought.

Then again, maybe it was. He might have a perfectly logical explanation, and even if he didn't and had nothing to hide, why would he get mad? There was nothing wrong with asking questions like this, so why was she so nervous about it?

She didn't know. He might get mad just for her questioning him. He might be more receptive after the meal, but did she really want to wait that long? Was she just putting it off because of what might happen?

She wasn't sure. It would be much better to just get this out of the way, get it out in the open. It would be a relief to know what was going to happen, one way or the other.

So then the question became how to broach the subject. Should she start off casually, maybe getting him to talk about his son, or should she just lay her cards on the table? She had never questioned him about his son before, he would probably wonder why she was asking about him if she brought him up, unless she thought of some way to just do it casually.

She sighed. She wasn't sure that would work, and just might make him angry later on when he found out the real reason she was asking. It would probably just be better to get it out in the open right away.

Still she continued to stand in front of the counter, chopping vegetables to add to the roast. What was she waiting for?

She wasn't sure. She didn't want to fight, they had had such a pleasant day, but she had a feeling if she was going to bring this up, there was no other option.

So what did that mean? Did that mean she thought he was guilty of something? She wanted to trust him, but she couldn't ignore what Reno had found out. There was something going on here. She was certain of it. She wanted to believe there was some perfectly logical reason why Jonathan would have been in that ward, but for the life of her should couldn't think of it.

She placed the vegetables in tray with the roast and put it in the oven. She was just wasting her time thinking this. There was only one way to find out, and that was to ask Brent. She looked over the bookcase at him, but he seemed to be engrossed in whatever he was watching.

C'mon Lockheart, just say it!

"Would you like something to drink?"

He looked up at her.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. A beer, if you've got one. If I'd known you were going to ask me over for dinner I would have brought something."

"That's all right," she replied.

She fished a beer out of the fridge and poured it into one of the mugs she kept in the freezer. She brought it over to him.

"Thanks."

She stood there for just a moment. She looked over at the television and saw he was watching the news. Slowly she walked back into the kitchen, staring at the folder on top of the bookcase as she did so.

Just get it over with!

She looked over at the oven, checking the temperature. Satisfied it was correct she took the dishes out of the cabinet and set the table. When she was done she looked around for a moment. That was it, everything was as ready as it was going to be. She had nothing left to do at the moment, no reason to put things off any longer.

She walked over to the bookcase, reaching down and fingering the folder nervously, looking at Brent. He wasn't paying any attention to her.

She took a deep breath.

She picked up the folder and walked back into the living room.

"Brent."

"Hmm?"

She stopped beside him. He was still watching television.

"Can you turn off the TV for a minute?"

That got his attention.

"Huh? What for?"

"Just for a minute please."

He pressed the remote and the television clicked off.

"What's up?"

She hesitated a moment more, but there was no turning back now.

She opened up the folder and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. She pointed to it.

"Is that your son?"

He frowned, leaning forward to look at the picture. He picked it up to get a better view.

"What is this all about?" he said slowly.

Tifa wasn't going to try any subterfuge. If this was something innocent, he would just resent it, and she wasn't good at that sort of thing anyway.

"It's a picture of some kids who had meteor fever," she told him. "It was taken three years ago. I got it off the internet."

She stopped, not sure whether to continue. Should she tell him that she knew Jonathan had been admitted to the hospital two days before the picture was taken, or should she just wait to see what he said?

Brent just gave her a puzzled look.

"I don't understand. What... what is this all about. Why are you asking me this?"

Wasn't it obvious, she thought.

"Brent, that picture was taken three years ago. There's no cure for meteor fever, and it kills in weeks. If that is Jonathan, then how could he be alive?"

Brent stared at her for a moment, then shook his head.

"Well, there's a very simple explanation then."

"And that is?"

"It obviously isn't Jonathan."

As if that explained everything, Brent picked up the remote once more.

Tifa reached out and stayed his hand with a touch.

"Brent."

He looked at her, annoyed.

"What?"

Again she hesitated. She felt a knot beginning to form in her stomach.

"I checked the hospital records. Jonathan was admitted there two days before this picture was taken. There's no record of him receiving any treatment."

Brent just looked at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

"You looked up his records?"

Tifa nodded.

"And just what were you doing that for?"

"I saw the picture. It looked like Jonathan. I thought it might just be someone who looked like him so I wanted to be sure."

Brent's look darkened.

"You realize that hospital records are confidential."

"There weren't any records to look at," Tifa countered. "All he found was an admitting date."

"He? And who exactly is he?"

Tifa's breath caught in her throat. Dammit! What an idiot she was. She hadn't intended to mention Reno, not because she wanted to cover it up, but because it wasn't really relevant. Brent, however, would totally disagree with that, of course.

She paused for a moment, trying to think of something to say, but the damage had been done and she couldn't recover from it. She had no choice but to tell him the truth.

"Reno," she admitted. "He was the one who looked up the records."

"Reno huh?" Brent snapped. "So what, you've got your little Turk friend checking up on me, is that it?"

"No, that's not it at all! Don't make this into something it's not Brent. We're not talking about Reno here. This isn't about me and you, it's about Karisa. It's about trying to save her life!"

"So what can I do about that?" he exclaimed.

"You can tell me if this is Jonathan. How could he have been in a meteor fever ward three years ago and still be alive? Do some people survive it? Is that possible? I just want you to give me some hope!"

He looked at her for a moment, then down at the coffee table in front of him.

"It's not Jonathan, at least, not as far as I know."

"Was he in the hospital?"

"Not that I know of," he replied. "I don't know. Maybe his mother brought him."

"If she took him to the hospital wouldn't she tell you?"

"How should I know?" he replied testily. "We haven't always seen eye to eye you know. She might have brought him there without telling me."

"Even if he had meteor fever?"

"Of course she would tell me if he had that," Brent replied.

"Well, he's in the meteor fever ward!"

"If that's him."

"It certainly looks like him."

"So what? There's... I'm sure there are other kids around that resemble my son. How do you know it's not someone else."

"Then why is there a record of him being admitted two days before the picture was taken? If it wasn't meteor fever, then what was he there for?"

"I don't know!"

Brent stopped. He glared at her.

"There's no way for me to tell if his mother brought him there," he said in a calmer voice. "I'll have to talk to her."

Tifa wasn't sure what to say to that. He could be telling the truth, on the other hand, it was the perfect excuse if he wasn't. Say it was Sarah that had brought their son to the hospital. There was no way Tifa could prove she hadn't, and what could she say? She furiously ran through her mind everything she could think of that Brent had told her about Sarah, trying to remember when they had broken up. If they were together during this time, she would have no reason not to tell him. However, she wasn't sure exactly when the breakup had taken place. She hadn't asked much about the woman. She hadn't wanted to know. As far as she had been concerned, it was all in the past.

"Brent, if you know anything, please tell me."

"I told you I don't!" he exclaimed. "I'll talk to Sarah next time I see her. I'm sure it was just some weird mix up."

"There had to be some reason Jonathan was there," she said.

He glared at her. Then he suddenly stood up.

"You know, maybe this dinner thing wasn't such a good idea."

"Brent," she said. She desperately didn't want him to leave. She had a feeling this was it, this was going to be her only chance to get the truth. If he walked out the door...

He ignored her, walking over to the closet and getting his coat.

"Brent please!"

"You know, I had a nice time today," he told her. "I was looking forward to this evening. Thank you so much for ruining it for me."

"I wasn't trying to ruin anything," she retorted. "I'm just trying to help my daughter."

He turned toward her suddenly.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should get Reno to help her."

"Brent, it's not like that! I told you!"

He was walking toward the door now.

"Whatever. You know, I'm beginning to question if any of this is even worthwhile anymore."

She just stood there. This was exactly what she had been afraid of. He had taken it so well when he found out Reno had been to the hospital, had been with her the night she found out about Karisa, that she thought maybe he'd come to his senses, that maybe he'd gotten over his jealousy. Obviously she'd been wrong, unless this was just a ploy to get him out of answering questions he didn't want to answer. Her gut instincts told her that that was the case, that there was something wrong here, that he was covering up the truth. The problem was she didn't trust her instincts. They'd been wrong too many times in the past. She didn't know what to believe, she just knew that if Brent walked out that door, her chances of finding out the truth would go out with him.

"Brent, please don't leave."

He ignored her.

"Brent!"

She reached out and grabbed hold of his arm.

"I don't want you to leave me, but if you do then so be it. I don't care if you think I'm fooling around with Reno, or whatever you might think. If you want to break it off, then I can't stop you, but please, please, tell me the truth about Jonathan before you go!"

"I have been telling you the truth!" Brent retorted, trying to pull his arm free. "Would you let go of me! What's wrong with you?"

Tifa didn't know what to do. She desperately didn't want him to leave, but what could she do? She was almost certain he was lying, or at best not telling the whole truth, but what if he was? What if everything he had told her was the truth? How could she tell? She felt him try to pull free and tightened her grip. She felt she was rapidly losing what little control she had had over the situation.

"I just want to know the truth," she pleaded.

"I already told you the truth! Let go of me!"

He pulled away once again, harder this time. She lost her footing, almost falling over, but still managed to hold onto him. It was ridiculous to hold him like this. She wasn't even sure what she was trying to accomplish, but she didn't know what else to do.

"I said let go!" he snapped.

Abruptly he changed tactics, instead of trying to pull away he suddenly reaching out with his other arm and shoved her away. Tifa wasn't expecting that and she stumbled backwards. She let go, trying to keep her balance, but the edge of the TV stand caught the back of her leg. She felt a sharp pain and fell to the floor.

Brent took a step back.

"What... I didn't... look what you made me do!" he sputtered. He hadn't meant to knock her over, but it was her fault, she wouldn't let go of him. He was tempted to give her a hand back up, but thought better of it. The way she was acting, he just wanted to get out of there, so instead he turned away and reached for the doorknob.

She saw him turn away, about to walk out without answering any of her questions, and suddenly she was filled with anger. She knew he was covering something up, she just knew it, and she wasn't going to let him leave until he told her. She sprang to her feet.

Brent was just about to open the door when something slammed against the back of his knee. Suddenly he found himself on the ground, pain shooting through his leg. He turned to see Tifa standing over him.

"Tell me the truth Brent!" she shouted. "Tell me what happened to Jonathan. Don't lie to me anymore!"

His own face flushed with anger, he started to pull himself to his feet, but Tifa's foot suddenly shot out, kicking him in the shoulder and knocking him down again.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he blurted out.

"Tell me the truth!"

"Are you some kind of freakin' lunatic?" he screamed back at her. "I told you already, I don't know anything. Dammit, you hit me!"

"Brent, tell me!"

This wasn't turning out how she had planned. Not at all. She hadn't expected it to devolve into this. She could hardly believe she was doing it, but she had seen him leaving and had just reacted. The whole thing hardly seemed believable at this point. What the hell was she doing?

"Get away from me!" he shouted. "Just get away from me! You think I would tell you anything now, even if I knew anything? What the hell kind of a nut are you? Now get away from me before you get hurt!"

"You're not leaving until you tell me," she told him. "Don't try to get up."

"What, is that some kind of threat? Are you threatening me?"

"Brent, please!"

"Don't give me that Brent please shit! Not now. Just get away from me!"

He started to get up again. What could she do? What would she do if he didn't tell her? She couldn't just keep knocking him down, could she? Just how far was she willing to let this go? She didn't want to hurt him, but she had to know, she had to know the truth.

Right?

What if he was telling the truth?

She went to grab hold of him. The moment she did he lunged forward, his hand coming up to slap at her. Instinctively she blocked the blow, and punched out with her other hand, catching him squarely on the chin.

He cried out and fell backwards once more. Tifa pulled herself back standing up, hardly believing she had done that. She knew she had hit him pretty hard, harder than she had intended. His head had turned at the blow, and when he turned around again she could see blood on his lip.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!"

She just stood there. Her whole body was shaking. What was she doing? Was she going to keep him here and beat him up until he told her the truth? How could she do that? How could she deliberately hurt someone? He wasn't attacking her. Well, he had tried to slap her, but could she blame him after what she was doing to him? He was right, what was wrong with her?

This wasn't her. She wanted to know the truth, but at what cost? She couldn't just beat someone like this, she just couldn't. For any reason. What kind of person was she?

Brent had gotten to his feet, and this time she didn't try to stop him. He stepped away from her, looking at her like she was some kind of freak, then, when he realized she wasn't going to lunge at him again, he turned and pulled open the door.

"Brent, please, don't go."

There was no more anger in her voice.

"Just stay away from me!"

Before she could say anything else, before she could move, the door slammed shut.

She was alone.

She stood there for a long time, until her hands stopped shaking. She turned away from the door and walked slowly over to the couch. She reached up and brushed the wetness of her cheeks.

She had screwed it up. She had screwed up royally. Reno had been right, this wasn't something she was prepared to do. Now Brent was gone, and this time, it was certain, for good. It was over now no matter what happened. He'd never come back after that little scene. If he was telling the truth, he must think her a crazy woman by now, but what was worse, if he was lying, she'd probably never know.

She went to sit down, but a sharp pain in her leg stopped her. She reached behind her knee and her hand came back with blood on it. She must have cut herself on the TV stand. She turned and looked at the back of her leg and saw a long scrap just above her knee.

She walked into the bathroom. She lifted her skirt and peeled off her pantyhose. Tossing them in the garbage she opened the medicine cabinet and took out some antiseptic and a bandage. She cleaned and dressed the wound, then stood up again. Her leg still ached but it wasn't all that bad. She'd had a lot worse.

Still crying she slowly walked into her bedroom. She removed her skirt and blouse and put on a t shirt. She retrieved the box of tissues from the bathroom and wiped her eyes again. As she walked back into the living room she smelled something burning.

"Dammit!" she exclaimed.

She ran into the kitchen, slipped on her oven mitt and opened the oven.

"Dammit!" she repeated.

There wasn't much left that was salvageable. She supposed it didn't matter anyway. Brent was no longer there and her appetite had left with him. She tossed it all in the kitchen garbage, then walked over and collapsed on the couch, feeling miserable. Everything had gone wrong, right from the very beginning. She'd destroyed her relationship with Brent. Karisa was in the hospital. She was really alone now, but even so, that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was what was happening to Karisa. By doing what she had done, she might have just lost the only chance she had of saving her daughter.


Brent slammed the car door. He fumbled with his keys, so mad he could hardly hold them, then pressed one into the ignition. The car came to life and he immediately put it into gear and screeched off down the road.

"Shit shit shit!" he muttered.

He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe this was happening. How the hell had she found out about Jonathan? They had told him it was taken care of, that all their tracks had been carefully covered. That no one would ever know.

Goddam Psi Co.

It was that bastard Reno that had done it. He was sure of that. The sonnofabitch just couldn't keep his nose out of things that weren't his business. She had told him Reno had been the one who had looked up the hospital records. He was probably the one who found the picture as well.

Damn reporters. What the hell had they been doing taking pictures in a meteor fever ward. What the hell did they have to take one of his son for?

There wasn't supposed to be a record. Psi Co had cleaned it up, assured him there was no trace. The bozo who did that must have erased the records but forgot to erase the fact that the kid had been admitted in the first place. What a goddam screw up!

That didn't matter though. Psi Co wouldn't care who had screwed up. If this ever got out, he had no illusions about who they would blame. He felt the hair raising on the back of his neck just at the thought of it. They had told him in no uncertain terms what would happen to him if he ever leaked out what they had done.

And he figured he couldn't really blame them. It was their very survival they were talking about, now wasn't it? No one had any doubts what would happen to the company if it ever got out that they had a cure for meteor fever and just never bothered to mention that fact to the general public.

No, the secret was ruthlessly guarded. Only those who's background was impeccable, who was beyond repute, who would never talk were even offered the cure, and only then, if they could pay the price, of course.

And the price had been steep. It had cost him almost a million gil to save Jonathan. It had almost ruined him, but he was smart, had worked hard and had rapidly moved up in the company. He was well on the way to recouping his loss, surpassing it in fact. He knew Tifa didn't have any gil, not nearly enough for the drug. For him to pay it out again, well, that would ruin him for sure.

Karisa wasn't his child. She wasn't his responsibility. Sure she was a cute kid and he didn't want to see this happen to her, but the bottom line was he had to look out for himself and his own. It was tough luck if the kid had to die, but that was life.

Besides, even if he wanted to help, he'd have to tell Tifa Psi Co had a cure, and that would have to be cleared with Psi Co first. Even if you had gil, they didn't give out this secret to people who they didn't trust, who they thought might talk. He was certain that even if Tifa had the gil, or he gave it to her, after all that shit that happened with Shinra, they'd never trust her to keep her mouth shut. She was too much of a risk.

It was stupid really. At least he thought so. They could probably make more gil by telling everyone they had a cure and then marketing it. They might not get as high a price per treatment but they'd sell a hell of a lot more of the drug, not to mention the good PR they'd get over it, but the bosses at Psi-Co didn't seem to think the same way. That was much too simple for them. They had told him they wanted it this way, because the disease was a diversion. When you were worried about your survival, or the survival of your kids, that kind of occupied your mind. You didn't spend much time thinking about other things, like what some large company might be doing. People didn't worry about protesting when they had sick kids. It didn't seem like the most logical thinking to him, but what the hell, he wasn't the one in charge.

And now, everything had gone to hell in a handbag. All because some moronic Psi Co flunky had been too stupid to erase Jonathan's name from the hospital computer. He would have to tell Psi Co about this. He'd have to. They would find out on their own eventually, and if he didn't tell them first they'd want to know why. They'd have to do something about her. She was too great a risk. That was, unless the stupid bitch had the sense to keep her mouth shut.

For some reason he had a feeling that wasn't likely. Well, it didn't matter now anyway. He couldn't worry about her anymore than he could worry about her brat. He had his own skin to worry about. If he had to throw her to the wolves to save that, then, well, he didn't have any problem with that.

He reached his own apartment complex, pulling the car into the parking lot and finding a space. He got out and walked rapidly toward his door. He would be heading back to Gongaga tomorrow, and he had no intention of coming back to Junon again. He had been living with Sarah in Gongaga and things were going pretty well. He had a feeling he could talk her into letting him move back in.

He entered his apartment. He closed the door and flicked on the light.

"What did you tell her?"

Brent froze.

Reno sat nonchalantly in a chair in Brent's living room, his nightstick across his lap.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Brent demanded.

"Is that really important?" Reno replied.

"What do you want?"

"The same thing Tifa did. The truth."

Brent just glared at him.

"Get out of here before I call the police."

"You won't call the police."

"Oh? Why not?"

Reno slowly stood up.

"Because if your hand goes anywhere near that phone, I'll break your arm."

Reno took a step toward him, then stopped, looking at the cut on Brent's lip.

"Looks like Tifa did a little damage after all. I didn't think she had it in her."

"Get the fuck out of here!"

Reno just stood there.

"You know, I've got a feeling you haven't been taking me seriously," he stated.

"The hell with this, I'll throw you out myself!"

Brent swung at him. Reno stepped to the side, then forward. His nightstick swung in an arc and slammed down on Brent's knee with a crack.

When Brent stopped screaming, Reno started asking questions.