Warning: Basically an angst party I wrote to every depressing song I had in my playlist back in May for a friend (mostly as a some sort of challenge that I could make her feel like shit while reading it) I won... she never made it past the first portion... and it's formatted all fancy e _e so I don't feel like going through and picking shit out and re-formattin buh w/e
Some of the songs I remember: Iron and Wine - Upward over the Mountain, Imogen Heap - Hide & Seek, Sia Furler - Breathe Me, Lifehouse - Broken, Lover's and Liars - nothing left here to burn... and some other shit but I don't remember what..so
Sweet Dreams,
Light of My Heart
They were both gone… so what was he supposed to do? Little hands tugged at silky blonde hair, face twisted in anxiety, eyes wide and glittering. She wouldn't stop crying. Just on and on she howled, letting the whole of the large, empty living space know she was upset. Beyond upset. She was in painanditwouldn'tstop. Her skin was burning, and yet she shivered as though cold and he'd tried bottles and food and new clothes and anything else he could reach but nothing helped. Crystal moisture clung to ebony lashes as he bent over her, pressing kiss after kiss to her forehead and begging her to be better – begging anything to just let her be okay again. She was always sick, doctors were always in and out… but no one told him what was wrong and he could only hope she understood that he was trying. Trying so goddamn hard to make her better. Cold, wet cloths were put to forehead and it seemed to soothe her some but the tremors never stopped. There wasn't an answer to either phone he called and there was no one here.
Rufus pressed lips to her skin again, drawing back when still she felt feverish. Wasn't there medicine to give her? There weren't instructions and he didn't know what anything in the cabinet in Mother's bathroom was. Fear gripped at heart, had palpitations shooting adrenaline and lethargy through muscles so quickly that he felt sick. Stomach rolled with nausea and worry. What if something happened? What if she didn't get better? It would be his fault! Salvation was only found in those teary amber eyes, large and doe-like they stared back at him with a frightening clarity, even in the midst of fever that scalded his skin. It was like she was telling him it was okay, that she knew he was trying. That she understood he didn't know how to help. But it only made the guilt worse, because she hurt so badly and if only he could take it away from her… Knees drew up, forehead dropping against them from his place shove against a wall. The cries continued, they sounded hoarse and choked now – and he could only imagine the pain in her throat from the begging someone to come do something. He didn't have Veld's number… Veld would know what to do. He always did.
Orianna was wrapped in cloths, pillows and stuffed toys creating a cradle around her but there was no comfort in that – he knew. Teeth burying into soft bottom lip, eyes were scrubbed at, fear shoved aside even though arms and legs quaked as he walked across the room. It felt like an eternity to crawl into the bed – their Mother's bed – and move pillows, drag blanket and wrap arms securely about her, tugging the small child close. Her cries lessened, she shuffled and squirmed until face was buried against his chest. Rufus closed his eyes, tightly, she was so hot, he almost didn't need blankets to stay warm. But fevers sapped the body of energy, that much he understood – so maybe if he kept her warm it would break and pass and everything would be okay again. She would laugh instead of cry, grab at him and coo and smile instead of twist her face up in pain, sososo much pain and cry. He hated seeing her cry, it made him feel weird and he never quite knew what to do… but she always stopped so quickly when he did try. Unlike with their Mother and Father… well, mostly their Mother. Father wanted nothing to do with her. Still, Rufus felt Rina was mostly humoring him by giggling and moving on from her tears so quickly.
Fingers toyed with the whimsical bits of hair she had, lips touching crown and cheeks in a constant check for temperature… but she was still now. Breathing indicating sleep, exhaustion is what he assumed it was because how could she really sleep when in such a state? Her body still twitched, writhed even in slumber and he had to look away from her. He couldn't bear to watch the sight, but arm tightened its hold, knees drawing up like a cocoon around her.
Rufus didn't know when sleep claimed him, only that he was stirring… because something was off. Eyes twitched, body felt tense and stiff and ever-so-tired – but he forced himself to consciousness. What was wrong? The room was quiet, still… but it was wrong. It wasn't the stillness of sleep… no, it was heavy with that strange feeling that had hairs prickling on the back of neck – and suddenly the worry was back, the gnawing anxiety that threatened to shred apart insides. Body tensed, strung as tightly as a bow in the archery classes he watched. He didn't want to move, didn't want to look down because somehow he knew… like a dark vice squeezing at heart and lungs, pushing out air and slowing beats until he they were but a distant whisper at the back of his mind. Eyes ventured down, because he wanted it to be wrong, that feeling. But no…
There she lay, still – oh so terribly fucking still. And she wasn't breathing, her skin felt icy and he was shaking. Whole body vibrating in place with the horror that wouldn't quite sink in. Crystalline liquid sprung to mercury eyes, soaking lashes before spilling over down round cheeks. No. No no no no no no. "Rina… Rina wake up…" Fingertips brushed at her hair, tapped cheek and ever so gently shifted shoulder. She didn't move, didn't stir… didn't twitch and didn't open those eyes to look at him and let him know it was okay. Because it wasn't… was it? It wouldn't ever be okay again. The tears fell, a constant stream that soaked face and dribbled onto her skin and the duvet beneath them. "Rina… Rina please you're supposed to g-get better…" Throat constricted, forehead dropping against her but never allowing weight to fall, shoulders shook even more violently than the rest of body and lip was a shredded bloody mess from biting at it viciously. He couldn't even speak past the sorrow and guilt that pooled up from stomach, rushed up esophagus and threatened to choke him. Strangle the life from his own body in repayment for allowing hers to end. A sob ripped from throat, painful and agonizing but it didn't feel like enough to express the utter horror slowly shutting down brain, leaving him to gasp for oxygen with lungs that wouldn't expand and a throat too busy biting back a scream to permit air.
The door downstairs closed and Rufus wrapped arms about her, oh no oh no… they were back. Someone called his name, slight worry in their voice. Footsteps tapped on the stairs and panic flared worse than before. They would think he did it… they would blame him. He knew, oh how he knew, because it was his fault wasn't it? He hadn't been able to help her… because he was ignorant and incompetent and didn't know what to do. She was d… Orianna… his little sister… sweet, sweet Rina… she was gone. Another gasping sob filled the room, the door was opening but he didn't turn to look. Panic filled their voice on the second call but he heard nothing, only clutched her tighter – wishing, hoping beyond anything he could just switch places with her… share a heartbeat because his was strong enough for them both. He was certain. Couldn't they do that? They did so many other amazing things… why couldn't they do that too?
Hands were pulling at him but he shrieked for them to let him go, to not touch him. That he was sorry, he was so very sorry… But they wouldn't stop, they grabbed and tugged and more joined them and he was kicking and screaming. Telling them he was sorry, but that she was so sick, so very sick… he thought he could help and he couldn't but he was sorry. Strong, strong arms wrapped around him, drawing him to a broad chest where face was pushed against a soft suit, words whispered to him he neither comprehended nor heard or fucking cared to. Didn't they understand? But the voice continued, unrelenting and it was familiar and comforting, along with that smell and struggling subsided, hands clenching tight fists into the suit jacket being soaked by tears. They left the room, left the oppressive air and the chatter of those within – mostly his Mother but he couldn't understand what she was saying, what was happening to her. He… didn't particularly care.
By the time the doctor arrived Rufus was silent, calm – but the silence worried Veld. He hadn't moved since the tears stopped, since the shivers released small body from their torture. He merely… was there, limp against Veld's chest, cheek resting with head turned from him on his shoulder. Deadened grey eyes were affixed to the wall, ears ringing with a pulsing silence even though people spoke so nearby. Breaths were long and even - body still and almost lifeless. Rufus' mind was a blank, thoughts scattered and buzzing about in a darkness he wasn't sure how to handle. He heard his Mother again – speaking, closer to them now and Father was with her. Rufus wondered if it was for show… because the man was never around when it came to Rina. Rina. A sheen glossed eyes again, but it faded as quickly as it came, body sapped of the energy necessary to even grieve – and so he was left with nothing. Nothing but an enfolding emptiness that was somehow comforting – so much better than what had been before.
Voices drew attention and eyes slid slowly from wall as head lifted so slightly to peer over his shoulder. His Mother was speaking with the doctor, their voices were hushed but he could still hear some of what they said. The fever ran too high, it was too much – the body gave out. The heart basically ran so erratically it… might as well have exploded. The brain was probably the first to begin shutting down, what with the fever even if she had lived the damage to her mental state would've been catastrophic. Grey slid away, hearing shutting down – but all Rufus knew was those words wouldn't stop looping now. That even if she'd lived… she probably would've been worse. Another tear trekked its way from eyes, gliding over the bridge of nose and fading as it dropped against black blazer. He couldn't have helped her either way… because he wasn't smart enough to know how to handle the fever properly. Disgust rolled in stomach at the very thought – that he tried so hard to play at being mature, at being so intelligent when really, what did he know when it actually mattered? Nothing. He was ignorant, childish… he needed to be better. Because he never wanted that to happen again… and yet, it was too late for her wasn't it? Veld shifted and head was lifted, changed shoulders because the man was leaving the scene.
"It's my fault she's… that she's… gone." The Turk froze in place, but Rufus didn't bother looking at him, unseeing eyes still turned forward, now to the aged skin of Veld's neck. "Why do you say that?" Rufus was silent, he didn't know if he wanted to answer the man's question. "Because I'm too ignorant to have helped her properly. I let her…" A shiver coursed through his body and Veld's arms tightened, and yet the comfort they might have offered was lost – swept away in the cold that permeated bone deep and impenetrable. Veld didn't say anything, but Rufus felt he wanted to deny the statement. It would be a lie, Rufus knew and so if the man did speak he didn't hear it… because it didn't truly matter. It was too late now.
Heaven's Chimes
For days Rufus didn't leave his room, for days it was nearly impossible to keep food down. Everything he ate, when he ate at all was revisited in the toilet. His bed never seemed so comforting, so welcome – because truly, what else was he to do? Faith was lost, and desire to even see the people who gave him life waned to nonexistence. But he couldn't lay there forever could he? No. The had to bring in that doctor. The same one who announce Rina's… announced her to be gone for certain. But he already knew that, they were stupid if they needed a doctor to tell them that. It was plain as day to him – even the room felt dead and he never ventured near it on the rare occurrences he left his room. That man gave him pills to take, he said they were for the depression… but they made him feel funny. It was hard to focus on things, hard to think of Rina because then he would feel sad… except the sadness would go away and there was a strange limbo – as though he were being pulled too sharply in separate directions and it made him sick, nauseous. So they stopped the pills, but they wouldn't let him hide away… Veld kept dragging him out – forcing him to do things even though he didn't want to. So Rufus participate, but half-hearted and it was noted. His expression was vacant, eyes dulled instead of alert and fascinated and curious as they should have been… he never looked at himself in the mirror anymore, because the person he found there was a stranger.
They were disgusting and he wanted nothing to do with them. They let his sister die. They were ignorant and incapable…
The time slid by, slowly as chilled molasses but move it did indeed. Eventually the emptiness began to recede… but in its place was a feeling of neither happiness or sadness. It wasn't anger and yet it was potent. A poison that drove him from bed in the morning with a manic fervor – sent him to books and tutors with a redoubled effort. The same strange feeling had him slipping into that room late at night, holding the Cactaur that was Rina's favorite toy. He would clutch it close, whisper to her promises he would keep if it meant selling his soul to Diablo himself. Yes. Because he owed her so much, and the guilt he carried would never lessen. It went unremarked when the Cactaur vanished from that room. Rufus wondered if he was the only one to enter it anymore… but it didn't matter. He pulled away from people, threw himself into books and books and more books because they held such a wealth of information and it would be his.
The single-mindedness too passed, with time… but it was her funeral now. It was raining, pouring and grey and so suitable. Rufus felt it only right that Gaia should weep with them… him… for her loss. He could only imagine the amazing things she would've done one day – all of that stolen from her because of his incompetence. He was dressed well, in a sleek white suit with roses equally as white as attire and eyes that never rose to meet faces as he paced at his Mother's heel to the gravesite. It was a tiny affair. Veld was there, of course, but that was mandatory. His Mother's parents were there as well, with bowed heads hiding the stark lack of tears or real emotion for Rina. Roses were clutched more tightly to chest and finally the man ended his speech. What right had he to speak anyway? He didn't know Rina, didn't know how wonderful she was – didn't know how much she loved, so purely… didn't know how much she was loved; even if it was only by him and their Mother. Of course, Father wasn't at the funeral and Rufus felt a sinking in his stomach. Why hadn't he come? Mother said he was busy, but Rufus wasn't sure about that. He hadn't seemed busy when they left, and he recalled them discussing… yelling and shouting and screaming and breaking things… how he should take more time for what family he had left, how he should appreciate them more because one child was gone… what if they lost the other?
Father had said Rina was no daughter of his and Rufus found himself fleeing with pale face and that strange emotion of before as he found the nearest toilet to lose his breakfast in.
Roses were buried with her, the white slowly covered by muddy soil. Rufus found that fitting as well, because it was just like the disease that ate away at her, slowly took her away… and his own final addition that was the final straw. The one that… He still couldn't think it, but he would need to pay a visit to that room – her room – when they returned, he needed to speak with her… even if she wasn't really there he could talk and she would listen. She'd always listened – even if she didn't understand, Rufus knew she listened. She'd always look at him so intensely with those eyes there were sometimes chocolate abut mostly amber, they would be so intent and her brow would twist and furrow with scrutiny.
He was rather proud that 'Rufu' was her first word and not Mother or Father. It made him feel special – somehow more dear to her than either of them.
They left the Kalm Cemetery in silence, his Mother dabbed at her face and bit back tears but she was distant. She ushered him away when he tried to sit close to her in the car, because he wanted to comfort her and maybe she would tell him it would be okay somehow… but she didn't – she'd told him he was too old to be clinging to her in such a way. He didn't say anything, because he understood. She was… they called it depressed. Because she'd been the one to carry Rina, her bond was closer… more intense. That's what they said. They said it was entirely understandable for her to want to pull away, but of course there were those that would need to keep her in the here and now so things didn't take a turn for the worst.
Rufus watched the rain slide down the frosted glass of the car window, solemn and unmoved – still as detached as since that day… because something had never quite come back when the emptiness faded away. He tried to cheer his Mother up sometimes too, he'd paint or draw her something… and granted it wasn't the best, he knew, because he was a child – but he tried to make it pretty enough that she would at least smile a bit. Because shouldn't that help her feel better? Something that didn't remind her of Rina but that she could still enjoy, to remind her he was still there for her even if Rina was gone… that he'd try to be enough.
He still had all of the pictures in a box hidden under his bed. She hadn't wanted to see any of them.
New Faces,
New Places
They never talked about Death after Orianna went away and Rufus never asked about it. He never asked them to explain why she had to go – where she would go to… because he knew she would go to a good place… and he knew it was his fault she went away. Facts were accepted as they were. He spoke less, but who was he supposed to speak to? Sometimes Veld would allow him to sit in his office… and that was comforting in its own way but there was little a Turk would want to discuss with a child – so he eventually left.
They were fighting again, he could hear them… raging through the house and slamming doors. The marble floors echoed so loudly and the wooden walls were only a bare buffer between their fury and his ears. Still, he would've crept out anyway to know what was wrong… he'd tried to be as invisible as possible – after all he was a big topic of so many of their fights… so maybe if they forgot he was there they wouldn't fight anymore. But no, this one was worse than the others. He crouched behind one of the many marble statues to watch it, easily concealed between the legs of the Odin carving. His Father was quite fond of Odin – claimed him to be the most powerful spirit – to stand for what every ShinRa man should strive to be. Rufus wasn't sure entirely what he meant, but he didn't much care for Odin. He was strange to look at and seemed more hateful than anything.
He much preferred Phoenix. But when he told his Father this, he'd laughed and called him a silly child and shooed him from his office.
Something shattered and gray eyes peered up and over the edge of the statue's base. His Mother was storming from a room, she looked so angry… yet it was more alive than he'd seen her in a long time. Her eyes actually focused on things around her, but skimmed him in their wrath to return to his Father who was emerging from his office, red faced with clenched fists. "Don't you speak with me like that, hussy! You brought it on yourself." His mother drew back a hand that connected so sharply with his Father's face. Rufus ducked again, eyes wide. Did they do this every time? He didn't think so. Little body shuffled, edging toward the back and the shadows where he could watch from more safety. More things were shouted, things that made no sense – but his Mother was saying something about him. Ears perked up. She talked about how seclude they were, how things needed to change or else it would be bad for him. Funny, how there was a tickle of surprise that she thought of him at all… she never seemed to notice when he was in a room… but that was neither here nor there, because his Father was lunging at her, hand whipping out sharply and cracking against her face.
Breath froze in his lungs as he watched her fall. His beautiful, beautiful mother… why had his Father done that? Why'd he hit her? But he was drawing back again and before Rufus really knew what he was doing, he'd barreled from the alcove shouting for them to stop fighting. His Father spun on him, gaze freezing Rufus in place at the fury within it and he was advancing on him. Rufus stumbled back, eyes rounded to huge silver mirrors – but he couldn't look away and run… his Mother yelled to his Father, shouting for him to fucking stop and then she was there… but his Father threw her away again. She was such a small woman after all – what chance did she really hold against a man that size? Body trembled as his Father reached for him and a sharp breath of air was all that he got before that hand closed too tightly over his arm and jerked him forward. Rufus winced, but couldn't break free of the hold and so stopped trying… merely stood and watched as that face drew so close to his. "Don't you ever yell at me – dare to tell me what to do in my own goddamn home again, boy." The tone… the acid in it had Rufus nodding even as he attempted to shrink back from his Father. Why was he so angry at him? He just… didn't want them to fight. But thoughts had no place here because his Father jerked his arm sharply again, wrenching it at an awkward angle that had him choking on a gasp as he was drug back to his room and shove inside.
They were shouting again, screaming even more viciously than before. He should've just remained away… he'd only made it worse. Rufus clutched at his throbbing arm, body curling tighter in on itself as he listened with only half a mind focused on the situation while they fought… and fought and fought and it felt like it would never end.
Veld had him see a doctor the next day. This one was different and Rufus found he liked him. He had soft eyes and a strangely shy demeanor – unlike the other 'doctor's at his Father's work. The man talked a lot once Veld backed from the room to see to another problem. He said his name was Rupert. Rufus told him he liked his name and he'd chuckled and asked if it was because their names were similar. Rufus didn't really see how but he'd smiled for the doctor anyway. He'd learned that if you smiled people didn't ask you so many questions, especially if you smiled just right. Then they thought they knew everything and left you alone.
His arm healed fine but it was a while before it was of any use for more than assisting in removing or donning clothes. And even then, it had to be trained back to where it was before. Rufus found it fascinating how quickly ability was lost – and yet how hard it was to re-learn. It made him doubly intent to never have to relearn something again… it would be stored in memory permanently from the time of first perusal onward. He wouldn't be caught unawares or ignorant once again.
It was almost laughable how quickly steadfast resolutions could fall through the floor. Fall through the floor his did, well, the resolution to not be caught unawares. His Mother and Father decided they needed a vacation of sorts, some time to themselves to recuperate from all of the tension and anger lying between them. So, having learned from the first time around, they decided instead of leaving him home alone – they would instead take him to a… friend's house. The man lived in Costa del Sol where it was hot and humid and the sun was extreme. Rufus didn't like the place at all, it was strange and the people walked around in so few clothes! The man himself seemed okay though, he was so small… Rufus was more than half his height and he wasn't even ten yet! It was strange, to meet such a tiny adult… well, one who wasn't his Mother. He had pretty clothes too, they were… rich. The colors looked so warm and the fabric so soft. It was such a difference from his own clothes and those of his parents. Rufus found it a touch difficult to look away, but the man's face was so warm and he stooped when he held out a hand to introduce himself as Wazir Kahn. His eyes were hazel fletched with gold and his hair was the deepest black Rufus had ever seen. Still, it was with caution that he reached out to shake Wazir's hand. "Rufus ShinRa…" He whispered out in a voice too accustomed to silence to have any real weight in it. Wazir frowned a moment but was smiling the next and Rufus wondered at that, wondered if it was something he did or said… but didn't ask.
The house was amazing! It was so… exotic. So different from anywhere he'd visited within Midgar. Well, he'd never been outside of Midgar, really, until now… except to visit his Father's estates but that wasn't for fun. That was for Father's work and for some reason he was required to come along and stick close as his parents met with strange people who made his skin crawl. This place was better than all of those! There was so much white and crème everywhere – but they weren't the only colors. Deep teals and burning reds and lush purples and golds gave so much… warmth to everything. It was a happy place, it smelt delicious all the time – it felt inviting and comforting and he really had no desire to leave it. So Rufus didn't. He located the library and pulled out book after book to read. He knew Wazir watched him those first two days, but the man said nothing, only stared with eyes Rufus couldn't fathom before leaving.
The third day was when he showed up. Wazir's son… and everything changed then. He was several years older than Rufus, and he liked to announce that fact quite frequently. Rufus wasn't quite sure why but apparently it was important to this… Saaras – as he'd introduced himself. Rufus found himself ignoring the other boy, easily tuning out jabs and taunts and teases and pointless conversation starters. After all, he was privy to much more violent and attention grabbing events more nights than not.
Wazir watched yet another day and Saaras seemed to become frustrated. Rufus paid them no mind, he had books and this lovely house to hide away in. So it came with some surprise when Saaras showed himself, irritated and for once not flouncing flamboyancy. The book was snatched away and Rufus dragged outside. The sun was good for him, Saaras said, he told him not to be so pouty. Rufus didn't like him, he was irritating and pushy and… well, he'd never exactly been around other children. There were those who attended the parties, tagging behind their dame or sire and equally as hesitant as he to make contact with others. It was amusing really, how secreted away children were in the world of politics. Hidden like rabbits in a warren. Perhaps it explained the ruthlessness – the independent lifestyles of flying solo for so long that it was programmed like second nature – even if it truly wasn't a part of their disposition. Saaras was no such one of these children. He'd been allowed to be a child and it bothered him to watch someone younger than he guzzle down books he wasn't sure he'd ever understand like they were candy. He insisted on a game of hide-and-seek, because it was easy and simple – even if Rufus sneered at it he went along. Curiosity piqued and it was a game that would never be regretted.
He still didn't talk much, perhaps a handful of words here or there and none to Wazir who didn't seem put off by this and tried time and time again. It was strange to Rufus, being around an adult who actually wanted to speak with him. Veld spoke with him, but sometimes Rufus wondered how seriously the man took him, because he seemed more like a babysitter than truly interested in any sort of friendship. Saaras was fascinating, an enigma to the blonde – but one he wanted to understand so very much. So he followed him, played his games – spoke with him even. The friendship grew – day by day – the month was almost over and soon Rufus would have to go… it left a pang in his stomach, to imagine going back away from this. They were warm and so very different. So inviting. They sat down for breakfast and spoke with each other.
It was the last night of the freedom this place offered. Rufus curled tight in the bed, arms wrapped tight about a pillow and teeth chewing at lip while eyes remained wide open on the far wall. Would he ever see these people again? Would he ever be able to sit on Wazir's dock and splash the water with Saaras? Would he taste the exotic food native to Cosmo Canyon that Wazir prepared for breakfast? It had heart heavy, aching with the mere idea that after this there was only… the same as there was before. Sure, he didn't speak with them much… but they didn't seem to mind, or mind his being around. Body curled tighter but the bed felt so empty and cold and the room echoed with distant shadows that made him half afraid to close his eyes. So with some trepidation and silent feet, Rufus slipped from the bed and the room, padding ever so softly down the long hallway and around a corner where he knew Wazir's room to be. Small fist tapped the door and a moment later there was the rustle of fabric before I was opening. Rufus stepped back, eyes dropping to the floor – as though preparing for the scorn he knew to come. But it didn't. Instead a warm hand was brushing through his hair, that melodic, soft voice echoing in the silence of the hallway, chasing away the emptiness of shadows. "Something wrong, Rufus?" He shook his head quickly, no of course nothing was wrong… but. Grey rose to the angular face smiling down at him. "May… I sleep here tonight?" Wazir tilted his head curiously, observing carefully though Rufus was certain his face gave nothing away. "Bad dreams? Or are you home sick?" Rufus felt his face fold, eyes shooting away from the man whose expression turned somber. "I don't want to leave… may I…" Cheeks pinked, eyes turning again to the floor and the chuckle had spine stiffening… but it wasn't cruel.
Hands guided him into the room, tugged back silken duvets in rich oranges and purples and ushered him onto a pillow. Wazir followed, laying on his back with fingers laced and hands atop chest. He looked so comfortable. Rufus observed him a moment in silence, scrutinizing the position before wiggling close to the man – until shoulders touched – until it was physically obvious he was there and copied the position. It was comfortable… and the permeating heat of the body so close was comforting. It was strange, and before he was aware of exactly what was happening – he was asleep. Peaceful, easy, dreamless sleep… for the first time in perhaps a year or more.
Rufus sat on the dock over the water, toes barely touching the surface but skimming across anyway. He couldn't swim and the water looked dreadfully cold, but Saaras said they didn't have to swim. Grey flickered to the boy next to him, also flicking feet in the water as he nibbled on some brightly colored fruit. Saaras eventually stopped, turning to look at him with a brow arched sharply over golden eyes, as though asking what he wanted. Rufus jerked gaze away, lips pinching. "You're a weird kid…" Shoulders hunched forward and Saaras tapered off of his sentence, watching body language become defensive with incomprehension in his eyes. "You're strange… because you don't talk. I still don't know anything about you and you've been here for a month. But you're nice, and…" He stopped, and Rufus turned questioning eyes to him in curiosity. Saaras shifted, biting his own lip and looking uncomfortable. "Well, you're cute… I kind of… think boys are cute. But you can't say anything to my dad okay? I don't know if he would be okay with it…" Rufus looked at him, eyes not understanding in the least but he nodded in agreement anyway and Saaras beamed, leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss on the soft cheek. Rufus jerked back, eyes wide as fingertips touched the spot where lips met. Saaras laughed, told him he was being silly – that it was just a kiss – a friendly thing, before he stood and said they should return inside because the sun was getting low and the water was dangerous at night. He really didn't have to ask Rufus twice after that.
The next day the sun dawned early, Rufus didn't want out of bed – he didn't' want to see Father even if he kind-of missed his Mother. She was so distant lately… and if they were okay again it meant she would be away frequently with Father… which meant he'd be alone. Again. He hated being alone… the house was huge and empty and sometimes he still heard the crying. It was a whisper, always, but he hated it. It was hard to sleep… and what if something happened? The last time they left he'd nearly hyperventilated… Father laughed and told him to stop behaving like a fool… his Mother offered him a kiss and a hug and told him to call her if something happened… but she didn't answer last time did she? Still they left… and he didn't know what to do… Face buried itself in the pillow, eyes squeezing tightly but a hand on his shoulder was rousing him to wakefulness and warm smile urging him out of bed. They met Saaras for breakfast and after that it was nothing but the long wait…
What Must I Do?
They were fighting, again… they always fought, but for a while after that trip it was okay again… only they were gone all the time. Veld sometimes came over, so it wasn't too bad… but it was only sometimes. They left more often than that sometimes. Sometimes they were gone for a while, and he'd call… but they never answere d the phone. But this fight was terrible worse than any other. Even curled in the closet of his room with a book open he could still hear them… things were being thrown, but he couldn't understand the words. So much being broken and for what? What were they fighting over now? Probably you. The voice whispered, it always whispered terrible things but he ignored it… sometimes. It was just him being… ridiculous again… or that is what his father said.
Doors were slamming and he could hear his mother charging through the house. Teeth bit into lip when he heard the door to her bedroom close with a bang that rattled pictures on the walls. Should he go see her? Sometimes he could make her smile again… others she hardly seemed to notice him. With a decisive nod, the book was closed and he was standing, tip toeing from room and down the hall where she was in her room… but it was different this time. Wrong, just as that night had felt wrong when he woke. Heart was hammering against sternum, eyes widening as he took in the suit case opened on her bed… not one or two – but three – an she was shoving things in, turning pictures flat and muttering to herself. "Mother?"
"What is it Rufus? I don't have time." Her voice was caustic, and he flinched back from it. He'd never heard that tone directed at himself. Not from her. Never from her. But she didn't even turn to look so he bit his tongue and watched, slipping into the room and sitting in one of her chairs. After a time, she seemed to calm. Erratic packing slowed and breathing stopped the panting pace she'd held when he walked in. Prepared for another bite, he decide to ask. "Are you going somewhere? A trip?" It looked like an awfully long trip, with all of the clothes and things she was packing… but no jewelry and no makeup. Father loved to buy her jewelry – he said women should own lots of pretty things, especially beautiful women like his Mother. Those were always the good nights, the nights when they didn't scream and fight. She slowed, paused, but didn't turn to look at him. She looked so… harassed and angry. Her hair was flying this way and that. "Yes Rufus, I'm going on a trip of sorts. I might be gone for a while, though." He nodded, biting into lip again and swinging feet. He didn't want to stay here alone with Father, he always left without saying anything and only came back when he had to. "May… I come with you?" She laughed, shoulders shaking – but it sounded bitter and broken and when she shook her head he could see the dried tracks of tears down her cheeks. "Not this time Rufus. You'll be in the way on a trip like this." Oh. Eyes dropped again, feet kicking back and forth, lip gnawed to being chapped. Wasn't he always in the way. Knees drew up, chin resting atop them and he watched her finish, close the suitcases and head for the door. Eyes closed, tight against the sight because stomach was falling and falling and heart felt painful with every dull thud it made. "Can you… can you stay? Go some other time? I don't feel well… I don't want you to leave." Please, pleasepleasepleasplease Phoenix don't let her leave… let her stay… "Sorry Rufus, but I have to leave." He wondered if hearts were made of glass, and if they could shatter, because it sounded like his had fallen to the marbled floor beneath the chair and done just that. Ears were ringing, disappointment curling stomach into tight twists. The door clicked shut softly behind her and he didn't move, sat there – listening to the deafening, booming silence of the room and he steady tick, tick, tick. Of the clock on the wall.
She wasn't coming back in… the door was still closed and distantly he could hear her and Father arguing before another door slammed shut and… she was gone. Still he didn't move… and time slipped by as though in some alternate logic. Eventually body grew cold, limbs becoming numb form the tight ball he held on the chair. Rufus slipped from the furniture, crept across the room and into her bed – soft blankets enveloping him as pillows were tugged down and down, until it was almost like someone else was laying there in the bed. If only it weren't so cold. Head rested atop the top pillow, eyes staring blankly into the wall. He would be in her way, where she was going… it was why he couldn't go too… and she had to leave… because it was important… and was why she didn't stay… even though she asked. Even though she never does when you ask. Eyes closed, face buried into the plushness beneath cheek until all he could smell was her. She would be back, soon… she wouldn't be gone forever. "Love you mom…" Sleep felt as though it'd never come, but it did… although wakefulness came back far sooner than he would have liked.
Days turned into weeks, which crept up to a month… still she wasn't back. But he would wait… two months came on, his birthday came and went… she still wasn't there. He'd just turned eleven and not even a card. Maybe Father knew?
Soft steps brought him to the man's office, knocks hesitant but he couldn't hear him talking. Rufus entered when beckoned – gaze slipping around the office and to his father who puffed out a plume of smoke without looking up. "What do you want?" Rufus shuffled but approached the desk, didn't bother sitting. "Mother is still gone… she didn't say where she we-" Voice was cut off by the harsh laughter of the man behind the desk, who sat back and took yet another drag on cigar between bouts of laughter. Baby blue scrutinized him, sharp and intelligent and Rufus wanted to look away – but knew better than to show weakness. His father wouldn't approve of it and he still wanted to make the man proud… in some way. He sat forward, elbows braced on the desk and expression thoughtful. "Well, I would say the whore is probably out spreading her legs for another man. Hehe." Rufus was confused, what did that mean? He didn't ask instead offering a hum and shifting stances. "She… said I couldn't come… is that why?" Again his Father laughed and the smile was harsh now, ruthless as he leaned ever farther over the desk until he was peering down his large nose at him. Rufus wanted to take a step back from the smoke blown in his breath followed by the smell of stale brandy and… something weird…. Something pungent and sour that he couldn't identify. "Well, why would she want to take a silly child with her? Maybe you weren't good enough for her – did you think of that? You're nothing special… why should she go out of her way for you?" Heart stopped, stomach fell through the floor and eyes widened even as face paled. That… wasn't true. Isn't it? No. Not… he shook his head, taking a step back. "She wouldn't…" His father cackled, eyes blank and dead and disinterested as he spun away from Rufus. "Yeah? Well why don't you call and ask her?" Brows furrowed, but Rufus nodded with determination. Yes, he would call her and she would deny any such thing and come get him… because why would she leave him? There was no reason for it.
He left the room as silently as he'd entered, heart beating double tempo as he headed for the closest room with a phone. Fingers hesitated over the smooth black plastic, teeth biting at lip. No, he had to call… he couldn't hesitate. Phone was lifted, digits punched in and it was brought to ear. It rang… and rang… and rang… and rang… and rang… and rang… until a voice answered, but not his Mother's voice – an electronic voice that said the person was unavailable. Stomach felt sick and hands clammy, hot and cold and shivering. Was his Father telling the truth? Did she not want him because he wasn't good enough? No. She was just busy.
So he called later… and the next day… and the next and the next… and then the line was disconnected and a great black chasm opened up inside and he fell… fell and fell and fell until the nothingness was everywhere and infinite… and where was there to go from here?
Swing Low,
Sweet Chariot
It felt like only days, but perhaps it was a month. Time really didn't matter anymore. It passed in a blur of studying – of endless tutors and classes. Because he wasn't good enough, he couldn't go with his Mother. He was stuck here. Because he wasn't good enough, his Father couldn't be bothered to take him to those business meetings. Because he wasn't good enough Rina died… Because he could think it now, without chest splitting open and heart attempting to squeeze itself into stopping. Because nothing felt much like anything anymore and it was all the same anyhow so what did it really matter? The only highlight was the trips to Costa del Sol – when he could see Saaras and Wazir… but still that felt mute and wrong and never quite like that first visit.
Because he wasn't good enough he and Saaras fought… it was terrible but it only hurt a little bit because everything was becoming so numb. Was that normal? Perhaps it meant he was growing up. Perhaps he wouldn't be a 'silly child' anymore. Saaras… the day was still fresh in thoughts as he loomed outside of his Father's office and listened to he and Wazir argue. His Father's voice was raised but Wazir was ever calm in the face of the storm.
He'd gone to Costa a last time, but Saaras wasn't there. Wazir said friends were around so perhaps that was where he was. Rufus found him eventually, found all of them… but Saaras told him to go away because they were doing things children couldn't do. Rufus was confused at the time, but he thought he might understand now… just as he understood what whore meant. He'd still approached, Saaras told him to leave again. His face fell, eyes hitting the ground before rising again to lock with once-warm gold. "But… why?" Saaras sneered, lips curling back over pretty, perfect teeth as he flicked a hand indifferently. "Because you're a kid… you're weird and you don't talk and you're awkward. Why would you want to be around us? We're just going to talk about things you don't understand anyway." Brow furrowed in incomprehension at the spiteful words. "But… you said…." Saaras was laughing, a deep-belly laugh full of humor that the three other people he was with joined in on… and Rufus decided he hated laughter. Because he never understood why people felt the need to laugh when it was uncalled for. "I said you were cute. I never said you had a worthwhile personality. You don't really have one at all… you're like… a little robot. You don't talk, you don't have opinions – or you don't share them which is basically the same thing… Heh, really all you're good at is looking pretty." Looking… pretty? But weren't women supposed to be pretty? Eyes shown with incomprehension an Saaras shrugged it off with a comment of 'typical' before turning to his friends. Rufus left after that, wandering away from the other with those words still ringing in ears. Just pretty? But he wasn't just pretty… he wasn't pretty at all. He was a boy… they weren't supposed to be pretty.
They were done talking and Wazir was stepping out of the office, closing the door with finality behind him. The stern expression melted when he spotted Rufus lingering beside it. Although, his face turned somber upon taking in the lack of expression on his face. "You're leaving and not coming back right? I won't see you anymore." Wazir smiled and it was sad and bitter, a hand reached out to rest atop his head – but fell back to the aging man's side when Rufus stepped neatly back and away from the touch. Still his face held nothing, impassive though eyes still bore the question he'd asked. Wazir inclined his head once, eyes drifting to the wall across from them. "Indeed, your father and I – we had a disagreement. Our companies will no longer be partners… which sadly means I will also no longer be seeing you… unless of course we meet when you're older." His voice was apologetic, but Rufus didn't know if he should believe him. His eyes were sincere but it was so easy to lie with one's eyes. So he didn't say anything, just nodded to the man who bid him farewell, offered a hug that was declined and left.
Left. Because everyone leaves, always. So what was the point in there being anyone that mattered?
New Horizons
Four years came and went. But it hardly mattered did it? It was a blur again, time seeping by in a fit of learning and new drive was found for perfecting himself. Nothing was ever good enough so what did it matter in the end? But there was always that small chance that something would be good enough. No matter how silly or asinine – it would eventually be good enough.
The fourth certification for a foreign language was a breeze to pass. The tongue flowing from his own with the fluidity of one speaking it for years. The first three were pointless, they weren't very common in the business world – so why had he bothered learning them? It took him until this many tries to find one appropriate. But only a glance was given it and the achievement was shrugged off.
Disappointing.
Dance and cooking and painting were women's things – why should a man learn them? And was he trying to tell his Father something without outwardly saying it? Besides, why should he ever need to cook when people were paid good money to do that so he didn't have to. But they were mastered regardless. Only the dancing was given a nod of approval. Because the parties were ever present and as he grew, Rufus was required to participate rather than linger. Girls were shoved his way one after another by smiling mothers with claw-like hands and clown-like faces in shiny dresses an so many jewels his eyes hurt. They all giggled and laughed when he dance with them and fed them empty compliments. They blushed when he smiled, said it made his eyes alive and glimmer like actual silver. The mother's whispered that they'd never seen such dancing, such poise – such impeccable manners – and wouldn't he be a catch when he came of age? They were giddy with the thought and Rufus often saw them whispering with his father long after the parties.
He performed violin solo in the theatre at Junon, where only the crème of the crop went for amusement and entertainment. But such things were degrading, plebian, for men and women with no money who sought the faux power in the hands of celebrity. It was disgusting and demeaning and his Father wanted to hear nothing of it. But he played so beautifully, the news said, the tabloids went wild because he performed anonymously and few outside of the aristocracy of Midgar even knew his name.
Pointless.
Eyes were dead, expression never changing and face still as carved marble. But what did it matter? Because he was pretty and even that could be utilized and Rufus felt some vindictive coil of pleasure at the thought of spitting in Saaras' face over that. But even he had come apologizing within two years of their fight. Rufus didn't refuse him but heart was iced over thicker than the tundra of the Northern Continent he toured in an effort to learn everything of the geography of the world so many said he was Prince to. So he modeled after the trip, walked runway in any number of fashions – also anonymously but all his Father did was grumble – and even that began to instill some enjoyment because it was a reaction and the man looked ready to spit nails… and in the dark of his room at night, impersonable and white white white – he smiled to himself before going to sleep. A cold smile that set eyes alight with wicked fires and a malignancy no one would expect.
More more more. It's not perfect enough because there's so much better. It's mundane and useless. Useless, useless.
He made a public speech with a graduating class. They were all sour faced and scowling – but all he could do was grin at them and belch out charisma and beautific gestures that had the gathered crowd swooning. A silver tongue his tutors said. A treacherous, manipulative snake – the class said – though they were four years his senior and only then finishing what he'd accomplished at fourteen. They were silly, ridiculous and he laughed at them in private while grinning and clinking crystal over mutual success in being done with education. But he wasn't done, not at all – because there was so much left to do – so much left to achieve and he had countless subjects to study; history, ecology, sociology, biology, chemistry, astrology (another waste of time so far as his Father was concerned).
Such a simple mind, trying all of the conventional methods of success. How far do you expect to make it with such straight forward thinking?
He was the reigning Chess Champion for five years – none could come close to touching him. However it was a game, and the gamble changed when applied to reality. So he was allowed to play general with an army. The war was lost and his Father laughed himself out of the room as Rufus looked over the maps and memorized locations before visiting the library for all of the books they possessed on military tactics and speaking in-depth with Heidegger on his own experiences. There was also Sephiroth, but he was off-limits regardless Rufus found himself trailing after the man with question upon question that the silver-haired warrior always smiled or laughed and answered before waving him on to go do this or that for the company.
Finally learning a little something? Heh. Bet you're proud of that, if only it wasn't upon the merits and knowledge of others perhaps it would get you somewhere.
He built a stock portfolio – explained it to his Father in a presentation and reorganized the funding for the company – which sadly enough eliminated the Space Program because it was a funnel sucking in money but not returning it. Profits doubled but his Father merely laughed as he sat atop his pile of money and smoked Cuban cigars and fitted himself for a new suit before throwing a party and claiming Rufus to take the place of Vice President upon the day of his Sixteenth birthday.
It was the first success with the man but it came with a coil of loathing that turned any joy that was long since lost to malignant storm of laughter and his own, private party looking over every available document in the company. Every transaction, every partner and their name, every misstep that was covered up. All the wars, the rise to power, the secrets of each department – all of them gutted within the year so upon that sixteenth, when it came, he would know every little detail he would need to know to twist the tide of power. It was a bitter success, toasted in sitting room of the small apartment he was given within the company with a bitter wine and the recently acquired Guard Hound that'd followed him from Hojo's lab sitting at his knee with loyalty shining bright in golden eyes and tail swishing as jaws pulled back in a smile almost as malevolent as his own.
Dark Nation he named him, before buying out the best of the best to care for the creature with. Because it stood unwavering in the face of his exploits, kept the annoyances of the Turks and their pranks at bay and for the first time in a long time … since that night in Costa del Sol, he slept peacefully once more. Dreaming of an empire in ruin with fires kissing the sky and himself atop in on a throne of bones and broken bodies, sipping wine and propping heels atop the crumpled corpse of his Father.
They called it hatred, they flinched back from it in his eyes – but he called it sweet, sweet victory. One day.
Broken
He stood in his Father's office as the man overlooked Midgar with beefy hands clasped behind his back. The curl of cigar smoke loomed like a halo over his balding head and Rufus stood steadfastly next to the desk, face unmoved and eyes distant and dead as they looked to the stars instead of the he hell-hole beneath. A cesspit he wanted to watch writhe in the midst of its own destruction.
"This could all be yours one day… so long as you do not disappoint or embarrassment. Heh, but we all know the likelihood of that." Mercury was on him, hooded and blue-grey in depth as emotions writhed beneath the blanket of blackness clogging heart and holding beat steady. HE made no comment, but one was not expected because his Father was sighing out more smoke and chuckling to himself. "I wonder if that wench regrets her decision to leave. Hehe. She could've stood here with us, had she learned her place. Learned to hold her tongue." Blue swiveled to him, but Rufus made no outward sign of agitation and Archibald laughed coldly, eyes glinted with wickedness and enjoyment at the insults he tossed so casually about a woman he once professed to love for all eternity. "You're a lot like her. Too pretty, too soft. Just make sure you aren't equally as useless." Rufus tensed, shoulders rigid and back unmoving as eyes shifted with bottomless shadows. "Mother gave you two children. Certainly that qualifies as some sort of recompense for your time." Archibald laughed again, sinister and doubling over, hand running through his thin hair. He shook his head, rounding on Rufus but pausing, thoughtful and considering as he turned away once more. Dismissive. "One dead piece of shit that wasn't even mine but the bastard of some stranger the whore spread her legs for and …. Well, you. You who climbed on the backs of others and only stand where you do, Vice President, on my good humor." Something snapped inside of him, hands curled into fists and hackles raised – eyes sharp with a fury storm to burn worlds and devour souls. "A piece of shit with more worth than you'll amount no matter how much money you accumulate to your name…. On the backs of others, dear father."
SLAM.
Fist met soft flesh and Rufus was thrown harshly into the edge of the sturdy metal desk, ribs bending and fracturing under the force and weight of body colliding behind them. Air rushed from his lungs but Archibald was upon him, eyes wild with fury and mouth drawn into a thin line as fist rained down again and again and again. He liked the ribs, liked hearing the gasps of pain as he held tight to one arm, the arm he knew to be Rufus' dominant, the left and jerked him back and back into the oncoming fist. "You… want…to shit talk me you little faggot you better hold up to those words." Fist hit again, this time to the stomach, nothing held back before Archibald was shoving Rufus away. He hit the ground with a gasp, eyes clasped shut in pain that sang through busted bones and abused muscle like a Siren's melody – sharp and pungent. A kick landed in diaphragm, forcing air form lungs as Archibald laughed and laughed. "Look here, a few hits and your down. Just like that whore of a mother." The toe of boot met arm, braced to raise upper body from the floor and the sharp snap of bone filled the air and Rufus went down again, knees curling to chest to defend against the blows that fell and fell and fell until Archibald tired himself out, cast cigar to the ashtray and ran a hand through hair – forcing it back into immaculate position. "You're a useless little shit and I would advise you to grow a pair before picking a fight with me, boy. I'll take you out of this world with minimal loses – after all what do you really contribute? Nothing as of yet. A disappointment and if Lazard had the pedigree he'd be in your place before I ever let you here." With that he was storming from the room without a backward glance, fury still ringing but body too tired to keep up the onslaught of attacks.
The silence was booming in the empty office, only broken by the labored breathing of a lung struggling to fill with oxygen against broken ribs. Pain lanced up an arm swelling and possibly bleeding, but he couldn't really tell by this point. Everything hurt. Bruises covered ivory skin, a deep purpling marring jaw and swelling cheek almost up to the eye. He didn't move, didn't try to move because the pain was almost unbearable.
But he could feel it and it was euphoric and amazing and touched hose cold places with vicious fires.
It brought clarity to a mind blinking in and out of consciousness, a tangible clarity that almost had him laughing. Oh how Rufus wanted to laugh as dead-sea eyes fixed to the stars twinkling so indifferently in vast heavens as yet unexplored. Loathing. It was intoxicating and beautiful and he could feel it. For the first time in a long time, he felt it. The tingle of emotion racing adrenaline through system and whispering life into overtaxes muscles and broken body. Loathing like nothing ever before. Where there once sat wicked amusement and vindictiveness there was now new purpose. Glorious purpose.
Archibald ShinRa would burn. With the fires of hell and a grin on his face he would cast the first stone and strike the match himself and watch the light fade from those eyes, watch the horror and savor it as he died and begged and pled for freedom.
It was ecstasy – sweeter than any climax any idiotic adolescent bothered indulge themselves in and it was only the fantasy. Rufus could only imagine what savoring the real thing would be like.
I Pray to God,
My Soul to Keep
Rufus woke in the infirmary recovery, arm in a cast and torso heavily bandaged. Veld came to visit, Rufus wasn't much surprised – only that he was in the recovery at all. Veld told him he found him in the President's office – beaten and bloody. Laughing in a pool of his own blood. It was how he knew someone was in there – the laughter. The Turk looked wary when he'd told him, as though whatever insanity he'd witnessed would manifest itself again at any moment now. Rufus merely smiled at him, thanked him for taking him for help… an asked a question that had the color fading form the Turks face and a denial beginning on lips but dying with every word Rufus spoke.
He wouldn't be useless, he wouldn't rely solely on another for his own safety. And never… never again would Archibald lay a hand on him without dying slowly and meticulously.
Veld agreed, set him a time and a place and yet again Rufus thanked him politely before the Turk left looking, if possible, more perturbed than when he'd arrived. It was happening. He would be trained as a Turk – exactly like a Turk, with Turks. Although he would not be one on paper he would learn all of their skills in combination with what little he already knew.
It was a week before they let him from the infirmary and yet another before he was to meet with the Turks themselves. They were confused, he could tell, when he walked into the room they'd been gathered in. Rufus smiled at them and they all looked accusingly at Veld. It was then the announcement was made – that he was to train with them as though he were no different than they. Veld didn't joke about such things, not at all – and eyes were widening even as jaws dropped in the face of such a proclamation. Rufus laughed at them, a chiming sound that was empty of empathy… empty of anything as he bowed for them, eyes peeking up like silver talons from beneath long black veils. "I'm Rufus ShinRa, and it will be quite the pleasure to train with all of you."