Title: Too far…
Authoress: Vitalini
Rating: T (for blood, alcohol and smoking content)
Summary[One-shot Rude the Sector seven incident he gazes down at the destruction from Reno's apartment window.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything FFVII they belong solely to SQUARE ENIX.
A/N: This was just a little one-shot I had to right before going to bed, so I suppose I should warn you about spelling and grammar mistakes. My spelling and grammar are terrible at he best of times, I'm too tired to proof read this more than twice, and I'll probably miss a load out anyway. If you see any please point them out to me, its only a ne shot so I'm more likely to correct them. I did this from Rode's point because I have no idea what emotional turmoil Reno would be going through, I don't even know what Rude is going through because getting emotion into my writing is difficult. This is purely a possible version of what happened afterward and I may write a completely different one. Notice how Reno runs off and jumps over the side of the platform after you fight him yet later he's in rehab well I thought maybe he was more severely injured then he let on, he left it and his condition worsened. He's a Turk he can bite back pain. Well I hope you like it, it's more of a drabble then a one-shot.
In the distance sirens wailed, a none-stop chorus that faded into the background, mixing with the usual evening hum. I took a drag from my cigarette, savouring the nicotine before blowing the smoke out; the ashes tumbled to the floor.
He hadn't said a word for some time, so I remained were I stood, leaning against his window as he sat on the floor, his back to the view. Taking another sip of the now warm beer, I cast my eyes over his dark apartment. Everything seemed untouched and still. The green light from the Mako generators cast a swirling green light on the ceiling but the gentle light didn't reach far into the apartment. A slither of red flickered at the bottom of the window; I wanted to wipe it away.
"Is it… still burning?" I shifted uncomfortable as he spoke, his voice a hoarse whisper. Neither of us moved, His glowing eyes remained staring at the floor and I continue to look at his lanky, lithe figure slumped at my feet.
My throat tightening, I forced my gaze back to the window. Little had changed, the street lamps and spots of lights coming from individual houses directly beneath us dimly lighted the sector but an additional light cast the usually dull buildings in a fiery, crimson glow. The source of this light, Sector Seven, once as dull and gloomy as its neighbours just this morning was now a flaming heap of rumble. Sparks of electivity from broken power lines twitched and danced in the evening, beneath them a more heated display raged. The bottom plate was no more. Completely crushed by the top plate that was itself broken and almost unidentifiable, though I could still make out some factory buildings in the red haze.
"…Yeah…It's still burning." My tone was flat; I did not know what to feel right now. Should I be mad? Should I feel sorry? Did it matter?
It was difficult to turn my eyes away, as if my mind wanted to print the image onto itself. Why wasn't he looking? Then again why should he have to, he may have caused this but he hadn't wanted it, had he? It was one of those moments that made me wish I understood the man more, but it was also a moment that made me realise I probably never would.
The smell of smoke filled my nostrils, I imagined it to be the dirty smoke from Sector Seven wrapping itself around us, not wanting to be a forgotten so soon. It had been years since I had last smoked, I thought I had kicked the habit, but the taste was inviting and familiar right now. I took a second drag, devouring the remainder of its length in a single deep breathe before stubbing the butt out in the ash tray behind me, killing the last tiny embers. Then I breathed it all out, practically gagging on the filth as if rushed out my mouth. I needed that to.
Licking my lips, I wiped the grey ashes from my trousers and considered downing the last of my beer as well. After helping myself to it I suppose it was only polite. Funny how he hadn't moved since I broke into his apartment. I washed the nicotine away, replacing it with the more suitable, bitter taste of beer. Crushing the can and leaving it next to the ashtray, I suddenly felt tired. Why wasn't he talking? Why was I just standing here smoking and drinking as if I didn't know what to do with myself?
Turning back to him, I found he was no longer sitting upright but had collapsed onto his side, maybe he'd fallen asleep. There was a red streak on the window, the ruby smear slithered down the glass, catching the light of the fire like rain caught the sunlight, marking the illuminated band of carpet. I wanted to wipe it away…. Wait was that blood…
"Baka!" Crouching next to his unconscious body, I quickly pulled his Jacket back revealing the wide spread patch of crimson that stained his Shirt. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed before. He had not let on once, not even when first I came in. Why hadn't he gone to the infirmary, why hadn't Tseng noticed? I felt like hitting him for his stupidity, did he want to die?
Not bothering to check his vitals, or the severity of his injuries I scooped him up. He had taken his pony out and the red strands fell like thin tendrils from his head, some sticking to my sweating hands. For a moment, the fire he'd created illuminated his ghastly white face. I felt a knot in my throat before I turned away; I was not going to let him die so easily.
In the distance sirens wailed, a none-stop chorus that faded into the background, mixing with the usual evening hum. It hit me then, perhaps, this time, we had gone too far.