Hidden

'Tis said that wrath is the last thing in a man to grow old. –Alcaeus

A Turk, Rude was used to movement in silence, along the edge of shadow, a kind of slipping at the periphery of sight and sound that gave the impression of invisibility or teleportation. Illusion. Slight of hand. Hiding.

Even so, Vincent still managed to scare the living shit out of him on a regular basis.

He wondered what the man was like in his prime, as he allowed his breathing to return to normal. "Do you hear it?" The gunman whispered as he suddenly appeared out of thin air at his elbow. "Feel it?" A scuttling noise drew his attention, like an insect under paper.

Rude nodded. He and Reno had been sent to "investigate" the existence of a small but violent gang living in a particularly desolate section of the Midgar ruins. Ghouls, reports had nicknamed them, for their apparently supernatural ability to live off years-old remains of a city long dead, seemingly hiding in plain sight and emerging only to attack. Rude had to admit, the idea creeped him out as not much did anymore. And because they disagreed with Rufus' insistence that two people could handle the job just fine, they had brought along Cloud and Vincent for backup.

"We've been followed since we passed the barricade," he replied. The street had been blocked in a way that looked a little too purposeful to have been caused by falling rubble. He looked across to his partner and signaled to meet at the entrance to the alley.

"Not liking this at all, yo. Too many attack points, too many places we could be cut off from an escape." Cloud backed against him, his own .45 ready. Cloud couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, Rude thought, but with that gun it didn't matter. He could destroy the proverbial barn with a near miss. Suddenly the noise was back. He turned his head and the distraction would have proved fatal had he been alone; ghouls rushed at them from the alley and the unblocked side of the street, all at once.

Rude counted twelve that he could see. Vincent killed four with as many shots and then scaled the pile of rubble for a better vantage point, holstering Cerberus and pulling a rifle from his back rig. He couldn't tell if Cloud actually hit anything or just provided covering fire but either way, it seemed to be working as Rude himself shot several more. Reno was in the process of dispatching the stragglers when Cloud called out in warning.

"Rude! Behind you!" It came seconds too late as a ghoul descended on him with a shard of marble, likely from the façade of some formerly fine building. Irony. He deflected the first blow, though the result would be a deep and long cut to his arm, but the bastard got in with a second to his ribs and slashed a third time at his face. His vision went red on that side before a deafening roar stunned him temporarily into blackness.

When he came to his senses seconds later, his only thought was that when he was very angry, Vincent moved as though he was still wearing his cloak. A trick of the light seemed to make the shadows billow out behind him. Or perhaps it was the fury evaporating off his body as he scaled down the pile of rubble. Reno radioed for a medical transport and Cloud kept lookout, even though the ghouls were almost certainly dead or mortally wounded.

The gunman walked swiftly and calmly over to the injured ghoul and sliced his throat with the tip of his claw. He dropped the body in disgust and began checking Rude's injuries as though nothing had happened.

Chaos had nothing on a thoroughly pissed off Vincent.

"That's a nasty cut on your arm. The one on your ribs isn't very deep at all. Reno? Aid kit?"

Reno was looking at Vincent with something akin to hero worship. "Yo, you just decapitated a dude with your claw. That may seriously have been the most awesome shit I have ever seen." Cloud opened the kit and looked at Rude's arm. "That looks a little deep to fix up here." He was getting pretty good at playing "guess the stitch number," hanging around Reno as much as he did.

Vincent nodded. "Indeed. The one on your forehead isn't so bad, just bloody, and the ribs are hardly a scratch, but the arm…I'd feel better if that one were done back at headquarters. Let's just bandage it here and get back." Reno produced a pressure bandage from somewhere about his person—one never asked when it came to Reno—and began to wrap up the arm injury while Vincent staunched the flow of blood from everywhere else the ghoul seemed to have cut. While Reno and Cloud's backs were turned, he leaned down and whispered "Don't worry. You're messy, not fatal," and gave a tactful kiss to his forehead on the one spot not soaked with blood.

Rude looked at the mangled body of the ghoul, the gentle hand of his lover resting on his shoulder as they waited for the med-evac. My little angel of death. What would I do without you?

Back at ShinRa, Cloud went with Rude into Medical while Reno followed behind Vincent. Partly out of morbid curiosity, partly out of the need to do something while his partner was being stitched up, and partly because Vincent just seemed to know what he was doing. They were filthy and covered in blood; Vincent in particular was soaked to the knees and elbows as though he had been crawling through it. It was a stark contrast to the tasteful carpeted beige of the building's lobby. The fact did not go unnoticed by the reception staff, who looked like they would have loved to have had someone, perhaps even the Turks, throw them out on their ear for dirtying the upholstery.

Except that they were, inconveniently, Turks. Even Vincent, as it turned out, who at security pulled out a very shiny, current ShinRa ID and marched through with his sniper rifle and Cerberus as though he, well, worked there.

To Reno's unspoken question, he replied, "Someone, I have no clue who, reinstated me when it became apparent I was no longer dead."

As conversation starters went, it was memorable. "I imagine the Iron Maiden at the desk is taking care of that right now. You probably got blood on the carpet. So how do you get out of, you know, actually being a Turk?"

"I just don't go to work. Apparently, there isn't a bureaucratic process for that." He quirked an eyebrow. "Though, the identification card has come in handy on occasion, as today. I suspect I even have an office in here somewhere, or at least a desk. I just have never looked."

"Where are we going, by the way?"

"Rufus. I have a few helpful suggestions for his next mission. Who knows, I may even be fired for my impertinence."

Reno reflected that weapons check with Vincent Valentine was a whole new experience. Actually, except for the almost-getting-killed thing, the day was turning out to be entertaining as hell. He knew the man only as a Turk legend and as his partner's lover; otherwise, he had only seen him briefly as a friend of Cloud's. But as the day went on he was really starting to like the dude.

Reno handed over his EMR and service pistol at the desk outside the Presidential office suite and Vincent did the same with the sniper rifle. But he then went through a time consuming search of his person for what turned out to be three small pistols and five knives of varying sizes and shapes, at one point admitting that he had forgotten about one of them, and a corkscrew. "Sorry," he muttered to Reno, genuinely embarrassed.

Parting him from Cerberus was a chore but security was firm. He could not take it with him to see the President. He handed it over with an expression that would have rivaled a mother giving her only child to a pool of crocodiles, took a deep breath, and went in. The secretary jumped up in a flustered protest about the President being a meeting with Tseng and wasn't to be disturbed.

Vincent looked at her with an expression that said she had just made his entire fucking day. He walked by her as though she was suddenly invisible and Reno, having nothing better to do, followed him.

To his credit, faced with an enraged and blood covered Vincent Valentine and a nearly-as-bloody Second in Command, Rufus ShinRa at least did not say anything idiotic such as demanding the meaning of the intrusion.

Tseng blanched visibly. Reno sympathized.

"Rufus. My apologies for not having showered first. I thought you should know as quickly as possible that Rude will live, no thanks to the logistics of this mission."

"The intelligence we received on the ghouls…"

"Was criminally inadequate, moronic, and should have been verified before you ordered Tseng to send two Turks into an area of operations that required a good deal more than two Turks. You very nearly lost them both."

Reno hadn't thought of that. It still hadn't sunk in, how closely Rude had come to dying, had Vincent not been atop the rubble pile to shoot his attacker and Cloud not provided covering fire. Or how easily he himself could have died alongside him. He wondered if he was going to throw up, and if Rufus' priceless antique carpet was stain treated.

"Will that be all, Valentine?" Reno had a sudden urge to punch Rufus' arrogant little nose.

"Yes, only because Reno also needs medical attention and I intend to see that he gets it. But please know that Cloud and I were out there today because we care for the welfare of those we love, not out of regard for you or your missions or the policies they support. Now please excuse us." He was gone as instantly as he had appeared, the aftermath of his fury leaving almost the literal sense of ashes in his wake.

"He will never forgive you for that," Tseng came up to them both as they were collecting their weapons. Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose as though fighting off a headache.

"He would not have done so in any case, for being correct when he was not. And my apologies, Tseng, that was not intended toward you. The fault is not yours." Vincent seemed to have shrunk a little, become more human, less frightening and more frightened. His anger from earlier was tucked out of sight again, like the rest of his concealed weapons.

"No, but I should have verified it myself, in any event. The Turks are entrusted to me. I want to see how Rude is doing. Reno, are you hurt?"

"Not sure, boss." Adrenaline had kept him upright to this point but he was beginning to wonder. He ached all over and felt a little sick.

"Get checked out anyway and then take the week off. I'll be damned if I'm letting that boy prince send you anywhere else until he grows a clue." He stormed down the hallway with enough self-condemning angst to pale Vincent and Cloud combined.

Rude was sent home that evening with an award winning thirty-seven stitches, the most that any of them could remember getting. Elena, the current reigning champion at twenty-nine, was annoyed but brought him soup anyway.

"I have a headache," Vincent complained, back at the condo much later. "Rude has a headache but he has narcotics for his."

"Steal 'em," was Reno's solution. He was on his fourth glass of scotch and didn't seem to be slowing down. "I still can't believe you cut off that fucker's head with your claw."

"Only partially. I am terribly out of practice." He used the same claw to slit the cover on a new wine bottle before removing the cork.

"Not out of practice at that."

"I drink more than I murder these days. Probably not a productive trend. This is also handy at removing beer caps." He demonstrated on Cloud's bottle and Reno looked like he had just seen the incarnation of some small deity. The doorbell rang. Vincent padded over, barefoot, to admit Tseng, who brought by some takeout and of course, more booze. He left after checking on Rude once more and sharing a drink, seeming more relaxed than he had been earlier.

And so was Vincent. In spite of the fact he was nearly out of wine and Reno and Cloud were half passed out on his kitchen counter. He put down his glass and moved them to the guest room where they would cause less damage, at least in theory. He went to bed, exhausted, but careful not to disturb the injured man already there.

"Rude," he whispered into the darkness. He reached out to gently touch his shoulder, remind himself that they were both all right.

"Hmm?" Shit, didn't mean to wake him…"Were you really popping beer caps out there with your claw?"

Shit. "We'd had a few drinks."

"So I see. You smell like a winery."

"I had a long day. And no narcotics."

Rude gave a low chuckle. "You were, to quote Reno, fucking awesome out there today. I have you to thank for my life, it seems."

His stomach clenched at the memory. "I'd rather not think about it."

"Whatever you say. Let's get some sleep." Vincent closed his eyes but sleep eluded him until nearly dawn.