Title: I Want to Save Her
Rating: PG-13 (For now…)
Theme: Healing
Pairings/Characters: Cloud Strife and Rosso the Crimson
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for Chapters 8 and onwards in Dirge of Cerberus.
Time Period: From about Chapter 7 in Dirge of Cerberus onwards. Begins during the attack on Deepground's headquarters in Midgar.
Summary: They came away from the battle both unharmed. How could this be? No cuts or injuries rested on either the blonde leader of Avalanche or the Worst Crimson. Yet she died later under Valentine's gaze…didn't she? …didn't she?
Word Count: 7,232
Dedication: This one goes to a lot of people.
To Sujika, first of all. If you hadn't told me that I should RP as Rosso, I would never have considered looking into her at all. You began all this. So thank you. Because of you, I have fallen in love with her.
To PorcupineCuty. You helped me find out so much about Rosso and plan out a great deal of this fic, and I know you'll be there to help me with more of it whenever I'm stuck or just need to rant about it. So thank you for that, and all you will still do.
Lastly, I want to dedicate this to my brain-daughter, Altura. I put you through so much pain to make you into what turned out to be a lunatic, bloodthirsty monster who had lost not only every semblance of her humanity but of almost every shred of hope. I was never able to RP you to the point where you found that hope again, or found someone who could patiently and lovingly lead you back into the light. Because your constant pain lingers heavily in my heart, I will write this fic with you in mind. If I can save her, then I know, I am certain, I can save you, Altura. So hold on still. Your time is not yet come. I promise you, I will save you.
Disclaimer: I do not own Dirge of Cerberus, or its characters. But Rosso reminds me…of someone dear to me. For that reason, I lay a little possessive, willful claim on her~ -Chuckles-
A/N: Cloud…I trust you.
. . . . . . .
Chapter One: Savior
. . . . . . .
Worthless. That was perhaps her thought, perched high above the world on a dilapidated throne. Their approaching forces held no more significance to her than would a stream of ants. Their airships, ground and levitated troops nothing more than pests not even worth swatting away. Let them come. There would be pitiful excuses for Deepground Soldiers that would more than easily sacrifice their lives to destroy such weaklings from the W.R.O.
This was all it had to offer.
She sat therefore, and patiently waited for him. The one that she could not see, that had no name. Yet he came, amongst the pests of humanity, there raced a beast of might—the only one she would fight. For though others trailed him, he was the marked, the grand kill of mighty proportions. It made her calmness all the more frightening because she knew he would be hers. The strength in him, the rarity of such a force. She would not need to hunt him long—he came already. On a steed of woven metal, blade ready, unaware of the predator's gaze that marked him, made him hers.
A chuckle came to her throat and she rose. Launched away from the crumbling parapet, she became a diving aerial of burnt vermillion, falling languidly from the heavens long denied her. There was no rush to her movements. Even her eyes shut briefly during the descent. No need to gaze upon the man beneath her—she would embrace him in lustrous bloodletting before long.
He was aware of her seconds after her plunge, a small gasp the only indication before he summarily gazed at her. Directly—hesitance bereft of him. Her blades released simultaneously, the sharp hitch of metal wings that would cleave the wind as hushed as his voice had been.
It was then that she looked at him.
He could see it in the way she held herself so still, her muscles languid yet taut, a magnificent beast holding a pose of elegance and discipline. Still composed, while beneath surged flames of inane desires—euphoric, this was her state. How her lips parted faintly, the smile tugging against the restraints of sanity. As she held his gaze, ignoring the dark lenses that hid his eyes, he could see its lie in the calm, tranquil blink that followed her low laughter—a chuckle so soft he might have imagined it.
A shine—like sunset upon the sky as she brought her double bladed weapon before her, did not need to stretch to achieve the perfect posture to bring herself to unison with it. Trails of smoke, or perhaps memories of light and power flowed out behind her as new streams were written by her blades, gleaming upon the air. In sharp contrast, the echo of blue encased her—pale ice in color, these wings streaming behind her, wrapped up in power before they burst their confines! Expanded, rushing together with the sunset trails, they became a cocoon of light that encased her, obscured her from sight completely.
Then shattered into flames.
There was a second. She became a streak against the sky and shadow of the Midgar ruins. That was all he had. At the last possible moment he leapt free of Fenrir, slimly escaping collision with the crimson bane. Vicariously the red shockwave tore above the earth as the ground below thundered, vaulting tremors raking the area. A massive flash of flames and debris flared from the surface, ashes and dust cresting high above the explosion.
Thrown upwards, he rode on the head of her strength, the force she ignited below them from the slender miss made all the more frightening by one thing else. Through smoke and ash, he never lost sight of her. Thus he knew she never let her eyes fall from him—even more certainly, that they sought out his eyes with reclined voracity. Taking the opportunity, he pulled his goggles off. They would only hinder him now.
She flew with him, emerging from the smoke an instant after he. Now their eyes truly met, but her face was calm. The smile of before was gone and her gaze even. In her eyes, there was only patience. His grip on his sword tightened.
As if sensing his readiness, she turned from him in midair, the motion smooth as she lifted her bent leg into a spin, gathering momentum. He tensed, drawing his own blade back in preparation before swinging it down as she came around to meet him. The sunset of her blade met the cool frost of his. In moments, they were engulfed in a gargantuan ream of light, deafened by the shrill roar of its power, nearly blinded by its intensity. At last, the pressure of their blades was stolen as they were torn apart, lost in the virile shockwaves of their combined strength.
It did not take long for him to land. To search for her—unnecessary. He turned around to parry, catching her blade lightly on his. Nothing lit her face. The thinner edge scraped down his coyly, the arm within the arched hilt outstretched towards him, the blade an invitation. He shifted his footing, body pulling back faintly. Tilting, the red wing of her blade rose from the edge of his, falling back towards her body.
Both vanished before it came to rest.
She appeared behind him, the muzzle of her weapon digging into his back before he could whirl around to face her. His blade caught hers, deflected the ream of bullets into the ground. Suddenly she pushed back with greater force. Her weapon swept higher against his blade until it slid completely off the steel. With a surge of speed and strength, she caught it once more on the other wing, throwing him back as her voice rang out after him.
"Why don't you fight?" She raised her arm towards him, her hand falling open to lay the weapon in her palm. "Don't tell me you don't want to." Laughter, condescending, trickled through her. "You have your sword drawn, darling." Her hand closed upon the handle of her weapon and she brought it back before her, resting it horizontally with him in her sights. Calmly, she stepped towards him.
"I don't want to fight," he responded, sharp blue eyes locked with hers. His sword was at the ready and he did not drop his guard, but he straightened a little as they spoke. "But that doesn't mean I won't fight if I have to, in order to help and protect those I love."
She tilted her head forward faintly, stopping where she stood and narrowing her eyes nonchalantly. "For love?" she questioned. Then she bolted at him, with more speed than he was prepared for. Gliding low to the ground at the last moment, her blade rose high as though to cut along his neckline, but he backed up, sword rising to block. Her arm shot out for his gut. He threw her blade off and blocked her attempt with his own—harmlessly. Her wings swiveled at that moment and crashed against the base of his blade, forcing it down enough so that she could use it to push herself off the ground, whirling into the air and striking at his head with her leg.
He ducked to evade her, but she drew her limbs close to her body and continued her spin effortlessly, another leg lashing out towards him with sudden velocity. His eyebrows furrowed and he grimaced momentarily, his sword angling to block her benignly. A glare of pale red interrupted his blade as she stabbed hers into the crumbling asphalt beneath them vertically, effectively blocking his defense. He caught the gleam of triumph in her eyes even though her face remained composed. Releasing the grip on her weapon, her arms stretched outwards at acute angles, her body wrenching around in another arc. This time, he had no time to defend.
He was sent to the ground and heard her land heavily. The scrape of metal against pavement sent an unseen jolt through him and his eyes darted to where she stood, leveling her blade smoothly…behind her. He had been disarmed, and he rose quickly but cautiously under her gaze. It was rare for him to lose his grip on his blade, regardless the opponent's advantages and tactics.
"Your reasons do not matter, darling."
With an idle roll of her head, she exhaled and looked down to his blade at her feet. Her boot came to rest upon his weapon. His gaze did not leave hers, and he waited until she met it. When she did, he could see she meant what she next said seriously. "As long as you fight, that is all that matters to me. There would be no point in killing you if you first do not truly ask for death."
"I can't do that," he said evenly. Still, he was not sure what she was getting at with such claims. "If you want to kill me, then go ahead. Try. But I can't let you take innocent lives."
"Too true, darling," she conceded, nodding her head agreeably. A twinge of a smile came into her face. "What about your compatriots?" A touch of confusion entered his eyes. His body stiffened almost imperceptibly. Steadily, her lips widened into a smirk. "Oh, is there some doubt there, darling?"
"What are you trying to say?" The corners of his lips turned downwards slightly and he clenched his hand slowly. He would have felt much more comfortable if he had his sword. Yet she did not appear to want to attack him, not now that she had neutralized him.
"Why do you fight with them? Not for them, with them, darling." The smile faded on her lips and she blinked slowly at him, raising her forearm from the elbow up towards him, palm up. This was the answer she had been truly searching for then.
He was taken aback slightly. The way in which she asked, apart from the query that itself was unusual, was bewildering. But the fact that she was honestly seeking an answer alone made him consider not brushing her off. "They're my support, and my friends. Without them, I wouldn't be here," he finally answered cautiously.
She raised her arms and shrugged her shoulders, closing her eyes momentarily as she sighed, her tone almost disappointed. "Then you are merely obligated." Metal singing through the air faintly, she weaved her weapon from one hand into the other, letting her arms fall to her sides. Her crimson eyes leveled with his and for an instant, the disenchantment with him darkened her face. Then an arm rose horizontally, questioningly, and he could see the patience leaving her. "Or did you choose them, this very day? The moment you were asked to fight on their side, darling—did you choose to fight with them consciously, aware of your choice, knowing what it was you fought for?"
She lowered her voice, her eyes narrowing. "Or did you go with them because you were expected to?"
This time, his gaze darkened. "I chose to fight with them to protect the Planet, and therefore the people that live on it. That…hasn't changed."
"And yet you say you do not wish to fight," the claret woman noted dully.
"This is getting us nowhere—"
"Pardon me, darling," she interrupted him, laughing suddenly. She brought her hand almost to her forehead before moving it away and turning her head back towards him, the momentary disbelief in her face replaced by an almost disgusted look. But that too fled swiftly, and instead, open curiosity flickered in her eyes. "I am not getting through to you, I can see. But my question is—why do you fight with them…" Intrigue gleamed through her eyes. "…when you and your friends are worlds apart?"
He frowned slightly, but did not respond. However, she picked up on what she needed from that because she soon continued. "It is not merely in terms of your strengths or your ability, darling," she said with curls of laughter to her words. "But you are not even a part of these people you protect, and your friends are truly left behind in the dust at your feet." Her eyes gleamed brightly, the open grin to her lips compounded as she shifted her arm before her. Her weapon was still gripped languidly as she propped her elbow up on the back of the hand holding it. Her fingers curled at the side of her chin and she stood gazing at him in open awe and astounding.
"Can you truly call them your friends and fight equally with them, when they have no hope in life or death of achieving the strength you have?"
"That doesn't matter," he said quietly. "Real friendship, the kind that can withstand death as well as life, doesn't base itself on the assets of a person."
"Oho?" she laughed. "You truly think so, do you?" She removed her foot from his weapon and stood there, watching him. He said nothing and did not move, his eyes holding hers steady as he waited. A smirk touched her lips. She chuckled. "It looks like you are not so sure yourself, darling."
She kicked his sword over to him. He didn't move. He watched as she folded her weapon before placing it into its position upon her back. Shifting her head, shaking off a few nonexistent kinks from her neck, she even took the time to free her hair from where the crooked locks had snared, dipping her head forward. Then she closed her eyes, and smiled.
This time, he expected it when she appeared beside him in the next instant. He grimaced a little as he felt a sharp pain flare through his side. Reaching for it, he pressed his palm over the small hole in his shirt. As he turned his head to look down at it, she leaned towards him, lips curled, and asked something softly. His body stiffened slightly. A small chuckle; a murmur. Then she was gone.
The heaviness she had brought into the air in those last moments left. He looked around himself, but this time, she was completely removed from the area. To where she had gone, he could easily guess. He would have to warn the others of her probable intentions…and assure them of his safety.
Exhaling quietly he looked down to see what the damage was besides a slightly shaken fortitude. She had cut him just below the ribs, near his arm, but it was a thin cut and barely noticeable. However, it was deep enough that without treatment it would easily scar. He would do his best, but if it scarred…little harm done. It would be better than dealing with the fuss of Tifa or Yuffie's exaggerated stories of how she'd get back at the redheaded Tsviet. Though, when presented with either, he would rather deal with Yuffie any day. He sighed. The problem was, the girl still could not keep from running off at the mouth. Tifa would find out, and come hunting him down with chastisements and complaints. Not a pretty picture by any standards.
No…neither of them would know. Vincent, however, he needed to talk to immediately if he could. And then…after this mess was taken care of….
He bent down and finally picked up his sword. Then he turned towards the sound of battle and broke into a run.
. . . . . . .
"Your death will be nothing new to the Lifestream, will it darling?"
"…"
"…I thought not."
. . . . . . .
The sun fell away. The storm rose, chiseled its way in over Midgar. Once more, as so often in the passing days, it brought with it darkness, and gleaming tendrils of lightning to streak the sky. Rain fell—heavy—yet with it, brought a lullaby to stifle the sounds of violence below. Advantages were erased as Deepground met W.R.O. Loss for loss, victorious neither, they fought nevertheless—towards an end, uncertain, but an end.
Near the heavens, the deceased President's office was chilled by a steady flood of air from open walls on three sides. Gullies siding the top floor of the devastated headquarters were littered with dead men of the World Regenesis Organization. Cleaved in red, she stood still and waited, knowing she would need to meet with the crimson gunman in battle before….
Drawn from her thoughts, she felt him draw near, soon watched as he walked towards her. The words she spoke were ones of intrigue, but ill-focused. He had survived. That was little concern to her. His fate was not her preoccupation. Nevertheless, she would engage him out of necessity. And he, this awkward excuse for a man, would crumble beneath his hope-burden. She had engaged him before. He was weak, too consumed by his sins and past to defeat her. The extent of his abilities were plain as day, his scapegoat a fluke. There was no need for concern.
An amused noise escaped her lips as he stopped several yards from her. "Still alive, I see," she said in much the same tone. Truly, most would not have survived such an injury. Let alone the beast that raged within. It was in his silence that his answer was given. Her eyes narrowed laxly and the echo of a sneer entered her voice as she continued. "And you call yourself human?" This…man…was a fool.
Just like the other.
"More human than you," he said evenly. The composure of his face and the calm with which he said it, these things….
"Huh?" she asked, leaning forward as she did so, disbelief thick in her voice. "More human than I?" Her shoulders rose gently. Her body shook with the motion. A laugh pressed its way into the air, her previously closed lips opening helplessly as further deep mirth spilled from it. Her body swayed and her head was thrown back with the sudden laughter, soon trickling off into a heady breath as she regained control of herself once more.
Raising her arms questioningly, she smiled beseechingly, bemusement thickly coloring her words. "Tell me something I don't already know, darling!" But her face became suddenly serious, eyelids falling slightly lower. "I'm a Tsviet!" Finality to the very words—this was all that needed to be known. It should have explained everything. He should have known this by this time.
Yet she could not stop.
"I traded away my human weaknesses for power long ago." A dangerous edge came into her voice then, and the calmness upon her face was replaced by a volatile anger ghosting just beneath the surface. "It is the path I've chosen, and the path I'll tread. Until I've sucked all life from this pitiful world!" she shouted. The amusement and laughter were vanquished. The frown that had settled her lips twisted into a vicious expression—her teeth bared to the heavens, her eyes overwhelmed by fire.
Anger gripped her, arms raised to the sky as though daring it to come down and challenge her. The gunman did not answer her. Moments…and the echoes of gunshots were heard from the highest point of the old Shin-Ra building. Flashes of fire and lightning tore through the decrepit height.
Suddenly, silence. A scream. Moments…and a flare of red came to light. Wielding it, a figure stood upon a pinnacle…and laughed. Laughed as the concrete gave way beneath it. Laughed…and fell.
The moon took its place in the sky silently.
. . . . . . .
"No one…."
. . . . . . .
The W.R.O. forces had made some progress, moving to within a hundred yards of the infested Shin-Ra building. The battles raged fiercely, and it was clear that the W.R.O. troops, previously outmatched, were finally making headway. In several areas the fighting had clearly lessened. These places were the zones of tenuously held victory, where at last the Deepground battalions had given in and retreated, or had been slaughtered.
In one of these places did he finally find the time to focus on one persistent issue. The air forces had already joined up with the ground troops, which accounted for much of the progress being made now. But, as to Vincent's location, no one knew exactly, and he had had no time to check. Now Cloud pulled back his sword, watching the motions of the enemies from afar cautiously as he asked Tifa to attempt to get in touch with their comrade.
The lack of the Colored Deepground units…this guaranteed that Vincent would certainly be meeting up with one or more of them soon. If he was not already engaged with them. Not that Vincent could not handle himself, but…a helping hand would not hurt. "Tifa," he said as Barret called out to them, marking a squad of Deepground soldiers and unfolding his gatling gun before tearing into them with the grafted weapon. "Have the map ready for him when you get through," he informed her as he moved to meet the men that had made it past Barret's line of fire.
"Sure th—Hey! I got through!" Tifa exclaimed.
"Tifa?" a hesitant voice was heard from the other line.
Barret instantly pulled away from the concrete cover they had and moved over to see the phone. "What! You got through?!" he cried. "Yo-ho-hooo! Vincent! You still alive?!" the man shouted, a grin on his face as he leaned in closer to the phone, making sure the dark-haired gunman could hear him.
"Of course he is. We're talking to him aren't we?" Tifa asked pointedly. "And do you really have to shout right next to my ear?" she said, pulling away from the other man, clearly a little annoyed at him. Barret laughed heartily and raised a hand apologetically. "Sorry about that, Tifa," he said, running back to their vehicle and then around to the uprooted concrete defenses in order to lay down another line of suppressive fire. As Barret nodded to him, Cloud deflected an attack and pushed back a DG soldier, effectively stopping him with an angled slash downwards.
As the man fell, he stepped back cautiously, watching as another approached but holding out his hand for the phone as Tifa said, "I apologize about that Vincent. Here's Cloud." He took the phone as it was handed over to him, asking swiftly, "Vincent?" However he did not have to worry long, for a burst of gunfire cut down the DG soldier and Cloud looked to Barret appreciatively.
"Cloud," he heard the familiar voice of the ex-Turk answer. "It's been a while."
"Sounds like you're doing well," Cloud commented lightly, but his attention soon turned elsewhere. "Where are you right now?" he asked.
"Finally inside the Shin-Ra building."
"Finally?" he questioned, noting the slight lilt to his friend's voice. Not exactly irritation, but there was certainly a mark of impatience to it.
"The Tsviets. I had to deal with one of them."
"Still in one piece then?" he asked, recalling his own brief encounter with the Crimson Tsviet.
"For now."
Cloud's lips turned upwards slightly, but the smile disappeared in the next moment. "Expect the others," he said. "None of the air or ground troops here have spotted them in the area."
Vincent made a noise of confirmation over the line. "Have you tried Shelke?" he suggested.
"We can't reach the Shera," Cloud said, glancing to the skies near the Shin-Ra building automatically. It didn't take him long to fill Vincent in on the rest of the situation, or to douse unnecessary concerns on either of their parts. Both knew the other was fully capable of taking on the situation at hand. After a minute, Cloud handed the phone over to Tifa so that she could upload the map to Vincent. In the meanwhile he busied himself holding back the growing forces of DG troops in the area. Apparently their little alcove had been discovered at last.
Seeing this, Tifa rushed her instructions and gave Vincent a quick "Good luck!" while Barret leaned over and shouted into the phone's receiver himself. "Give 'em hell, Vincent!" As Tifa turned irately to snap at Barret, Cloud took the opportunity, and the phone. "Don't go getting yourself killed now," he finished for them, a playfulness to his words that did not undermine the seriousness of the situation. Pulling the phone away from his ear, he ended the call and put the device away, turning back to the fight at hand.
If Vincent had already dealt with one of the Tsviets, then warning him as to their coming was unnecessary. Right now, they would do their part, and buy Vincent time to infiltrate Deepground.
Still, his mind flickered back to the woman.
"There would be no point in killing you if you first do not truly ask for death."
At this rate, it was certain she would meet with Vincent in battle. If she perished…. He thought about her words, but soon turned away from these things. There were other concerns at hand right now. If she did die, well….
. . . . . . .
"Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do.
…
But…I understand."
. . . . . . .
The moonlight could not reach here. Darkness consumed the ashen debris. The wreckage gathered between haphazardly standing walls—like beheaded kings, their armor crumbling or dangling off their sides, strewn around them. Asphalt upturned and ripped from the ground made traversing here more dangerous than difficult. No battles were waged here. No one could survive on such ill footing. Metal wrenched and twisted into vicious fangs, and piping jutting from slabs of concrete was ready to impale even the wary traveler the moment their footing slipped on a loose slab of rock, the instant rubble underfoot slid beneath their weight. Under the eaves of the Shin-Ra Headquarters, nothing but the rain came here.
Soft and shallow, ragged breaths—these went unheard. But for a figure moving through the ruinous environment, their source would have gone unnoticed until they too faded. But something caught the eye. The faint glow of blue mako lines, partially obscured by stone and then a splash of the fluorescent liquid, as though something had been torn to allow the characteristic fluid to spill out of its confines. This was what made footsteps pause, and then shift direction. Steadily, they drew nearer, until at last something could be made out.
It lay within the debris, warped out of proportion. Claret locks ran darker under the rainfall and potentially blood as well. Fair skin was gashed and filthy, stark against the blackness. The body was twisted frighteningly, face downwards—but that was unnecessary to identify the figure. One shoulder seemed dislocated, bearing most of the weight of the body, the other arm clearly broken, fingers splayed open in a silent scream of pain. A leg was torn right through. In fact, a large beam of metal clearly tapered off into a sharp edge was still biting into the thigh of the figure. The ankle on the same leg was swollen and purpling already, signaling severe damage. At best, the remainder of the body seemed intact, though the nearness of the metal edge could have sliced the side or stomach of the casualty.
Rising from where it knelt, the figure that had approached the violently strewn body pulled out a phone. Swiftly it selected 9 on its speed dial, and as soon as the other end was picked up, began to speak clearly but rapidly. "I need both a medical and trauma-sensitive excavation team to the south-west side of the Shin-Ra Headquarters building, ground zero immediately. Chopper them in and make certain the medics bring equipment for an offsite blood transfusion. I'll send out an electronic beacon. Track it directly! We'll need to lift this one out of the rubble! Hurry! I need them here in less than ten! We've got no time!"
Ending the call abruptly, it quickly pushed several buttons before snapping the phone shut. Silently, a red light on the phone began to flash. Without another word, the phone was placed away and the figure moved to begin clearing the area of anything that would prove a hazard to both teams. Any progress that could be made now might just save this woman's life.
"Hold on there, help's on the way," the masculine voice said.
. . . . . . .
"But, sir! That's…!"
"I know who it is. Forget that and do what you can to save her!"
. . . . . . .
Dawn came.
Had it not been for actions of all the people of Midgar, and especially one Vincent Valentine, there would have been no dawn. One day, and the threat of Deepground was stilled at last. No more lives to be taken, no more fears and losses to be expected of such a kind as had not been seen for three years. The Planet was safe, Omega placed into a final rest.
The clean-up once more began. The people banded together, and the crippled World Regenesis Organization was uplifted and filled with those wishing to aid in not only its recovery, but that of all Midgar itself. Voices and people unseen throughout most of the terror of Deepground's rising rose up and offered not merely their allegiance and aid openly, but plans towards hope. Once enemies offered themselves up as kin. Knowing that now there was little worse than the forces that had been staved off by the members of Avalanche once more, these men and women were welcomed with open arms and hearts.
Dawn had come, to be sure…but for one controversial soul.
An outcry and the abrupt clattering of two large boxes to the floor was made all the louder as one sprang open, supplies raucously clanging as they spilled out amongst the feet of the people moving through the room. Turning to see what was the source of all the noise, a stream of curses interrupted Cloud's attention. Turning his gaze from Cid to Tifa curiously, he noted the way his childhood companion was staring openmouthed at a horizontal cylinder. It was the kind that they had grown used to seeing in the W.R.O. headquarters and that Reeve had informed them at one point was used mainly to speed the recovery of the critically wounded.
But when his eyes locked onto the face of the person sealed inside, he could not suppress his own astonishment. Unmoving, paler than before, injured to the point of disgust on some areas of her body—this was Rosso the Crimson, encased in glass and metal, her body suspended in the pale blue of the rejuvenating concoction.
"Is there something the matter?" Reeve called, stepping back inside the room to where the three Avalanche members had ceased in their simple task of helping with delivering supplies for the W.R.O. building as it was slowly reconstructed. However, he noted swiftly where they looked then and it dawned on him what had caused the scene he saw unfolding. Unfortunately, he was unable to explain anything before two of them leapt on him with questions.
"What in the hell are ya thinkin', Reeve?!" "Reeve! What are you doing with her here!" "Draggin' a crazy-ass bitch inta your own building?!" "You actually saved one of them? After all these people did to us!" "AN' WHAT IN THE HELL'RE YA HEALIN' HER FER?!" "I can't believe you'd do this!"
Much to their surprise, and incredulousness, Reeve chuckled. "If you would just allow me to explain, perhaps we could avoid this," he said nonchalantly. "However, if you want to know why it was I brought her back here and tried to save her life, I don't quite have an answer for you. I did it simply because I felt it was wrong to leave her there the way she was."
Cloud turned away from the drastically injured woman to look at the W.R.O. Commissioner. "The way she was?" he asked before the others could interrupt with their protests again. Reeve turned his gaze upon him and nodded before explaining. "She's had multiple fractures and broken bones all over her body. A lung collapsed on her, both her arms and a leg needed reconstruction, and she had severe head trauma. She's been out cold ever since we've found her. However, her condition has considerably improved."
Cloud's eyes drifted back to the vessel the Tsviet was held in. "I know it looks bad," the former Shin-Ra executive continued, as though able to sense the Avalanche leader's thoughts. "But it's nothing compared to how she was when we found her."
"And you're helping her why again, Reeve?" Tifa interrupted impatiently, a hand on her hip as she stepped closer to Cloud.
"That's exactly what I would like ta know myself!" Cid demanded emphatically, eyeing the cylinder containing the woman oddly. "She was bad news from the moment I laid eyes on 'er. What the heck're ya gonna do with 'er once she wakes up is what I'd like ta know!"
"I haven't quite decided that yet," Reeve answered Cid truthfully. "But I don't think that saving her was a bad move on my part, or that it'll end up being particularly terrible for either Midgar or the W.R.O."
"Tell that ta all the people who died under that bloodthirsty witch's hands!" Cid interjected.
"I know the number all too well, Cid," Reeve responded quietly, his voice gravely serious. "The exact count of people that the Crimson Tsviet killed alone is greater than all the casualties we received from the full-fledged attack on Deepground's base in the center of Midgar. And that's counting only W.R.O. volunteering members."
"And yet you still took her?" Tifa asked, plainly disgusted. "What is wrong with you?"
"Look, I've taken full responsibility for anything that might happen and—"
"And what, Reeve? If she goes berserk and decides to slaughter every last W.R.O. member—and you—then it's going to be your fault and nothing less than you deserve," she continued coldly. "When you do things like this you're asking for trouble. And really, why should we help you if you're going to be helping out our enemies?"
"Tifa," Cloud interrupted quietly. "Let it go."
"Cloud! How can you say that?" she objected. "He admitted himself that she's nothing better than a cold-blooded killer! A monster!"
"She's gotta point there, Cloud," Cid added in, calmer this time after getting over the initial shock. "Besides, what's keeping 'er alive gonna do but cause problems in the future fer alla us?"
"He did what he thought was right," Cloud upheld, looking to Reeve. Reeve, while not shaken much by Tifa's accusations, still looked appreciative for his part. "Question is, what are your plans for her once she wakes up?"
Reeve cleared his throat slightly and walked between them and over to the cylinder containing the woman. "Technically, she can be woken up at any time. While keeping her in this chamber places her body in an artificially induced coma so that her body can heal itself faster, if at any point she is released from that state, the likelihood is that she would still take about two to three days to revive. After that, I was hoping to possibly use her to gather further information on the proceedings of Deepground, the experiments that went on there and so forth. She can be a very valuable asset to the W.R.O. in preventing anything like this from happening again, in addition to providing the keys perhaps to her own miraculous experiment."
"Oh yah?" Cid asked dubiously, following Reeve as he walked over to the cylinder and peering into the chamber for only a short while before looking away. "An' what kinda experiment was she the star of? Like we need any more."
"According to Shelke's information, though there is very little to be had, Rosso was the closest successful experiment to achieving immortality."
"Immortality!" Tifa exclaimed as though more mortified than amazed.
"Of course retrieving that information from her is going to be a long way from now," Reeve assured. "She has quite a bit of recovery to do, and it'll take upwards of a year if not more for her to fully heal. Even then, I doubt she'll be able to function as she did before her injuries, though I'm not quite sure if they'll be permanent."
"She's crippled then?" Cid asked tenuously.
"I can't be too sure." Reeve shook his head. "We're going to do our best to help her recover but—"
"So you're still going to help her?" Tifa interrupted, finally unable to stand being left out while the others spoke.
"Of course, Tifa," Reeve commented. "I never said I wouldn't."
"I still have yet to hear a good enough reason why," she pressed. "Preventative information and experimental research? I'm sorry, but Deepground is gone. The former shouldn't happen again at all! And why do you need the research? It sounds a little too much like dabbling in the dark side of Shin-Ra again."
"Tifa's right, Reeve," Cid commented. "The experiment part seems a bit off the wall ta put it lightly. Ta be quite honest, I don't really see the reason fer ya helping out this woman here at all 'sides fulfilling yer own fancy. An' I'm not quite sure it's such a good idea ta begin with."
"No harm will come of it I assure you," Reeve said, sighing lightly. "The entire impulse to save her came mostly because I didn't feel anyone deserved to die in such a manner. If she turns out to be more than we can handle…then perhaps I'll have regretted saving her in the first place, but at the least I won't allow for her to do any harm."
As they others continued to talk, he busied himself with collecting the things that had scattered across the floor. For the most part, Cloud did not want to involve himself in anything that they were saying. He drew close to the chamber in which she was kept eventually, once the boxes were righted and filled again. Silently, he placed a hand atop the glass and gazed down into the radiant liquid. The wounds were ugly, her body no longer as straight or powerfully poised as it had been in those moments in battle. It was almost as though they were not the same women, this injured being and the Crimson Bane he had faced only one short day ago.
As the other three talked, even as they had been going on while he stood to the side and only listened to them, he felt progressively more uncomfortable. Not a single one of them was looking at this woman as though she was…just that. In their eyes, this was not a human being, not a person. She was just a beast, or an experiment, or a killer. Yes, perhaps she wasn't altogether human, but…he had seen firsthand what could happen to a person who was told this, time and time again or just one time enough. He knew, all too well, what could become of them.
"Reeve."
The others stopped talking as Cloud interrupted them, turning their attention to him and noting how he gazed down into the chamber. After a moment, Cloud raised his head and turned to look at them. "Let me take care of her."
Reeve blinked. Cid looked stunned. Tifa was the first to respond vocally. "What! Cloud! Are you out of your mind? Haven't you heard a single thing that we've said this entire time!"
"Yes," he responded. "Which is why I want to help her."
"You can't be seri—"
"Are you certain about this, Cloud?" Reeve cut Tifa off as she spoke, a curious look on his face.
"Yes," he said resolutely.
Reeve gazed at him for a moment, before looking to the glowing chamber, silently determining what to do. After a while his gaze returned to Cloud's and he raised his eyebrows faintly. "I won't be able to persuade you otherwise," he admitted. "And I see no problem with this overall."
"Reeve!" Tifa interjected incredulously, staring at the Commissioner of the W.R.O. in disbelief.
"Thank you, Reeve," Cloud said.
"But you must be certain that she gets the proper medical attention. She will need special care, and constant supervision. A calm environment would best aid in her recovery," Reeve added on, the concern and warning alike evident in his voice.
"I've already got a place in mind," Cloud reassured him before turning his attention to the other male. "Cid. Can you give me a lift?"
The pilot sighed and scratched the back of his head, making a face at the other blonde. "Don't know why ya'd want ta put yerself through this, Cloud," he said reluctantly. "But if yer gonna go through with it, a lift's the least I'll do fer ya."
Cloud nodded and moved to pick up one of the boxes Tifa had dropped previously. "Reeve, can you have her ready for travel by the time we're done here?"
"Certainly," he assured him.
Cloud nodded silently to him. With that, he turned to move through the left doorway and onwards towards the building's supply levels. However, Tifa cut him off, grabbing his arm.
"Cloud!" she cried out. "Why are you doing this? What's gotten into you all of a sudden? You heard what she's done, and you know she's completely out of her mind! She killed hundreds of innocent people, and she almost killed Vincent! Why would you want to help someone like her!"
"Tifa," Cloud began patiently. "I don't expect you to understand."
"That's because you're not doing something that makes sense!" she objected. "That woman will only try to kill you from the moment she sees you! She shouldn't be alive, and you're volunteering to babysit her and nurse her back to health!"
He was silent for a moment. "You don't think that she's worth saving?" Cloud asked her.
"No, I don't, Cloud. And I don't see why you do!"
"Then I don't think anything I say will help you to understand." He stepped around her and moved onwards.
"Cloud!"
"Tifa," he exhaled, turning around enough to see her. "This is my choice. Not yours. I'm not asking you to be a part of it, and I don't expect you to be. I want to help her. That should be enough." Without another word, he turned away from her and moved through the doorway. Wisely, Reeve and Cid said nothing, merely following after the blonde male and leaving Tifa behind to deal with this as she saw best. After a long while, she too picked up the last package and left the room in silence, only a dark glance spared the crimson woman before she left the room.
For her part, the once-Tsviet lay motionless in the cylindrical chamber. Though her wounds were slowly, steadily knitting themselves together again, greater wounds festered beneath the surface still. Reeve had mentioned nothing, but as she had been brought in, one thing had she murmured repeatedly as fever and pain consumed her, until she was finally placed into a forced coma.
It was…worrisome.
. . . . . . .
"…strife."
. . . . . . .
Author's Note: O: …chapter one, done! 8D After planning this for weeks, writing it for a week, it is now finally finished! The first of its kind! I can't believe there are no other Cloud/Rosso fics out there! D: How can people NOT see it?! Dx They have so much POTENTIAL! And don't tell me no one else was upset with the way they cut off that EPIC fight scene in Dirge of Cerberus. COME ON! They were JUST…GETTING…STARTED! DX
But on a serious note, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of my fic! There will be plenty more, and I have a loooot planned for these two. :3 I hope you'll all enjoy it just as much as I know I will! And spread the love, spread the LOVE! Cloud and Rosso! Whoohoo! xD
On a completely unrelated side note. Can you tell which characters I'm not especially fond of? –Giggles!- X3 Please review! I would love to hear what you thought about this, if you liked or disliked anything, or comments in general about the two! For everyone else, I hope you enjoyed it! Ta-ta for now!