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Unofficial Rules of Being a Turk
A bomb a day keeps the doctor away.
He's his own kind of artist, the kind with lights and smoke and flames. He constructs them carefully, delicately. They're his children, his passion, and the fact that they're a part of his job only increases the care he bestows on them. Can he make this explosion more powerful? Can he decrease the amount of smoke so it takes them longer to notice that something is wrong? Can he make it flashy, like fireworks? He wants to know, and he sits up late at night reading, trying to digest as much as possible. He stays in the Shinra building late, carefully experimenting with wires and gunpowder and chemical reactions. A job isn't ever anything more than a job, but he always remembers the ones where his children, his joy, are used. Sometimes there are nightmares, but they're filled with beautiful colors and drifting smoke, and that's when Rude grows quieter than usual, speaking only to Reno and even then usually in grunts. They're going to Hell, if such a place even exists, unless they've redeemed themselves for the countless sins they've committed. Rude doesn't think they have, and as he watches Reno pick fights in bars, he wonders why beautiful things are always deadly, and why passion is a sin.
As he walks away from the bar with Reno and the place explodes into flames, Rude closes his eyes behind his sunglasses. Another of his children gone. More human lives extinguished.
He's not surprised to learn that he's more upset about the first one, just as he isn't surprised when Reno insists that, after they report in to Tseng, they go back to his apartment for drinks. He always accepts, and this time is no different – after telling Tseng how it went, the two of them crack open beers on Reno's surprisingly nice couch. Reno starts chattering on about something, but Rude is only half-listening, already imagining the next bomb. He's only vaguely aware when Reno starts talking, and starts when the smaller man pushes his shoulder and asks him if he's okay.
"Do you ever wonder which of us will crack first?" He asks, and Reno shifts uncomfortably.
"I try not to, partner."
Rude nods, taking a sip of his beer. Reno looks at him, concern clear in his blue eyes, but when Rude doesn't say anything else for awhile, he looks away. It's then that Rude speaks.
"Everything I love is linked to death. Eventually, that's going to be all that's left."
"Rude, man, don't talk like that! You're not gonna break; you're strong enough to take it, smart enough to keep yourself alive and working, and patient enough to wait until you can get out without a lot of problems. I mean, lookit how you make those bombs!"
"Hm. Work."
Reno shakes his head, strands of red hair flapping against his face. "No, man! I can see it when you work on them – you're the calmest I ever see you, 'cept when it gets tricky."
He frowns, sitting back against the couch. Reno's right, he realizes; when he's working on his bombs, his children, he isn't worried about whose family is going to suffer or how high the body count will be. It's the same sort of feeling he gets when it's just him and Reno, out of uniform and casual; not the Turks, but people. Reno grins as understanding settles over his partner's face, and cheekily rubs his knuckles against Rude's head.
"A bomb a day keeps the doctor away, yo?"
Rude pulls Reno's hand off his head, but can't help but smile softly. "Yeah."
That night, there are no nightmares.