Author's Note: Written as an insomnia piece this summer. It's been on my site for a long while, but I'm back here, so why not? Bit of a tear-jerker, methinks.
Started: June 2nd, 2004, at 12:32 A.M.
Completed: June 4th, 2004, at 12:21 A.M.
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They had been found.
Deep in the underbelly of the ruins of Midgar, a team of six Force officers had broken down the door of their hideout. At the time, it had been just after ten in the morning, not anywhere near the time they usually awoke. Even so, three people shot out of their beds to see what the commotion was about, and found just what they didn't want to.
"Well," said their leader as he discovered an assault rifle aimed at his chin. "I suppose this was destiny. What do you say we prolong it?"
The captain of the Midgar Force squad sent to track them down hit him in the cheek with the barrel of the gun, spitting as he shouted, "Shut up! Get on the ground with your hands behind your back, all of you! You two –" He pointed at the blonde woman with her leader. "– are under arrest for abandoning your duty in the time of peril, and you –" He pointed at the third. "– are under arrest for fleeing your kingdom to evade royal obligations!"
"Should we run?" the first woman asked, smirking and looking directly at the commander of the Force, but altogether ignoring him. He stuttered for a moment, then she looked at her own commander. "If you get us out of here, I'll treat you and your girl to dinner."
"On the ground!" shouted two of the Force members.
Their leader tongued the gun barrel, a very foolish move. He mulled over the idea of dinner with the two, then nodded. "Yeah, that'd work. Besides, I know procedure. These motherfuckers can't shoot us until we run, and when we do, they won't catch us anyway. Right, babe?"
"Right," said the smaller girl. The three shifted for a moment, crouched low, and took off like rockets. Shots went wild, but they all missed the running trio, who had been practicing their escape since the first week. They ran right for the back exit, which led up a sewer shaft and out of a grate in an alley. The last one up, their leader, shut the hatch with a kick of his foot, jamming a Force officer's gun in it. The problem was, it kept firing.
Some poor homeless man was shocked as the sewer grate next to him was forced off of its hole and three felons came out of it, apologized in turn, and hauled it around the corner. The woman in front watched the picket fence next to them give out little lines of light as she ran alongside it, feet pounding on the concrete. Her heart thudded in time with her steps, and for a quick moment, she asked herself:
'Will we make it?'
The woman behind her screamed, not exactly the best omen, then called out to her as the sound of a body hitting concrete found both women's ears. The blonde in front skidded to a halt and turned, but she already knew what the other woman had to say to her.
"Elena! They shot him!"
Still, she went pale and looked back. There was her redheaded companion, losing vital, crimson fluid from a wound in his chest, her other teammate already skidding to her knees beside him. She didn't seem to mind the skin that it cost her.
"Shit!" she breathed.
-----
OPEN THE SKY
-----
The first day she had been signed on as a Turk, they had met. She hadn't been told their names until it was official she was a Turk, just for privacy precautions. The anonymity of the situation had made her a bit uneasy, but she'd kept up an exquisite poker face through the entire ordeal.
The Turks' unofficial break room was a ten-by-fourteen dive with peeling wallpaper and a video cabinet with anything from sing-along puppets to fuck-me-hard pornography. A foam-leaking couch was two feet from a coffee table with a scratched, glass surface that looked like there were cocaine ruts permanently embedded in it, and the television was on the opposite wall. The door, at a slim two-feet wide, was definitely not company issue and looked like it had taken a fair beating in its day.
A long-haired Wutain with a red dot on his forehead had finalized her paperwork and then looked at his two comrades, telling her, "And it's procedure to have a member of our team show you around the city on your first day, as you're from Costa."
The swift pop of a match lighting had drawn the attention of three people: The blonde at the table, the Wutain across from her, and the bald man on the leather, worn couch. Seated next to him had been the bearer of the match, a redhead who had just lit it against the underside of the drug-littered coffee table. At the time, his arm had been in a sling and he was a bit bruised up, but he'd lit his cigarette and threw the match into the trashcan across the room with a wounded-but-skilled precision.
"And," the longhaired man had said loudly, "seeing as how you're taking his spot for the time being and he needs to get out a little bit anyway, Reno will show you around. Lunch on me, hmm, Reno?"
The redhead, who was presumed Reno by that time, had looked a bit startled, blue eyes widening with a "Who, me?" expression. He'd puffed his over-priced Seven Star Box cigarette and then pulled it from his lips with his good hand. "Sorry, Tseng," he'd said, holding his broken arm up and wincing so hard it was an obvious attempt to look miserable. "I'm incapacitated. Rude, would you get me another Aspirin?"
Rude, the bald man with his sunglasses on, had barely looked up from the television. It had been playing a car chase scene that was blatantly independently filmed. "Get your own fucking Aspirin, Leech. Do I look like your slave?"
"No," Reno had drawled. "But the Wute does."
"Reno," Tseng had said coldly, eyes flashing daggers. "You realize that anyone else calling me a Wute would now be twenty seconds into death, correct? In that case, you'll be showing your replacement, Erin, around."
"Elena, sir," the blonde had said softly, but meekly. Even then, she hadn't wanted to step on anyone's toes.
Tseng's throat had cleared. "Right, sorry. Elena. Besides, Reno, if anything does come up here, we don't want you to hear about it. We all know you might get worked up over our safety, what having to stay here because of your near-fatal arm fracture, which seems to put you in the deepest of pains known to man, so it's better you go out for the day and relax."
The redhead had scoffed, but he'd been left without a choice. Obviously, he'd decided as his good arm had shoved him from the couch and then put the cigarette back into his mouth, he was going to have to leave his comfortable spot in the break room and get some work done. He'd spoken around his smoke, just like a true addict would. "Whatever. Yo, Blondie, get your newbie ass down to Parking Garage C and wait for me by my car. I've gotta take one massive shit."
'Charming,' Elena'd thought as he'd walked out, and then realized with a bit of horror that she had no idea what car Reno drove. Looking to the other two for guidance, she found that they had both gone back to their "work," Rude with his foreign indie flick and Tseng with his paperwork. "Umm, sir?" she'd called hesitantly, and Tseng had looked her way with a bit of irritation, leftovers of having his culture insulted in the worst slur Midgar had come up with. "Which car is Reno's?"
A thin smile had appeared on the calm Wutain face, and he's replied, simply, "Just look for the most offensive piece of shit in the garage. Then look for something that appears to be its spin-off. Then find something of half that quality in a reserved parking space. It's that one. I'll warn you now, he likes his music loud."
Elena had nodded slowly and left the room, headed directly for the elevator. Anyone else might have tried to bump the proverbial elbow with some higher-ups to get near the boss, or maybe butt some proverbial heads to make his or her presence known in the building. Elena, on the other hand, had just wanted get to the car alive.
She'd made it to the elevator safely, and even got halfway down to the parking garage without a hassle, before the worst thing that could happen did indeed happen. At the twentieth floor, a hunched, greasy old man in a lab coat had gotten into the elevator and looked her up and down, not even bothering to pretend he wasn't doing just that.
Elena had heard enough rumors about the city to know at that time that he'd been the feared Professor Novehar Hojo.
"Umm," she'd hummed dryly, looking at him with more than a bit of fear. "What floor?"
Hojo had looked thoughtful for a moment as the elevator started moving – much to the relief of a nearly sweating Elena – and then looked at his elevator companion. "Tell me this. If you, as the blue suit insinuates, are training to be a Turk, why are you not taking the stairs?"
Elena had stuttered. "I - I'm sorry?"
"Well," the professor had continued, "a Turk position is a job of severe mental concentration, this I will admit, but it is also a position of definitive stamina and physical endurance. Surely someone in such a position would opt for the stairs as opposed to a elevator, am I correct?"
"I –"Elena had began, and then stopped just as suddenly. She hadn't been sure how to answer that question, nor did she feel the need to be sacked on day one for back-talking Novehar Hojo. "Sir, I just asked what floor –"
"Avoiding the question," Hojo had said, voice rising and temper flaring, "will not help you one bit here. I asked you a perfectly valid question, and you insist to dabble in the trivial matter of what floor I wish to land on? You, a Turk trainee, cannot answer the simple question of a man far too unable to even attempt the stairs?! What a disg –"
"That will be enough, Professor." The voice had cut through Hojo's temper and Elena's fear like a savior from the underworld. They had obviously been so wrapped up in this that they hadn't realized the elevator had been called to the fifty-ninth floor first, to pick up a vanilla-haired man in a white coat.
Elena hadn't had the faintest idea of who this man was, but he was her savior for the time being. The professor had taken this as the cue to step off the elevator with a dark look and shuffle down a corridor. The blonde man had stepped onto the elevator, reached to hit the button for Garage C, then had given Elena a smile that said he approved of her. "Lucky me; we're headed to the same floor."
Elena had felt the first blush of the day come to her cheeks. As much as Tseng had been on her mind, the raven-haired man's name was lost in a swirl of light-blonde bangs and cool, blue eyes. "Y – yeah, lucky you. Leaving work for the day?"
The man had looked her over carefully, with the sort of gaze that said he thought she was a bit on the crazy side, then snapped a finger at her. "You must be the new Turk recruit. And the only thing you'd be leaving at ten in the morning for is to be toured around the city by somebody, right?"
The woman, taken aback, had nodded furiously. "R – right. The red-haired guy, Reno, he's showing me around. Of course, I have to find his car, first. Someone said it was the offensive one. What was his name aga – oh, yeah. I think his name was something like. . .Wute." As soon as she'd realized her mistake, her cheeks had gotten even darker and her hand had created a vice over her mouth, eyes as wide as saucers.
To her surprise, the other man had just laughed as the elevator descended past the tenth floor. It was a good thing he'd found it so funny, because Elena had known even then that racism was probably not tolerated in the building. "Don't be so tense," he'd said calmly. "Y'know, I'm not as bad as everyone seems to think I am. No reason to be nervous around me. Besides, you've got a pretty face."
Elena had opened her mouth to say something kind about the way his bangs fell in front of his eyes, but he'd brushed them back at that very moment and the elevator had reached the basement level, better known as the parking garages.
"Well," he'd said. "This is where we split up. I have a meeting to be to, and you have a Turk to ride around the city with. Do me a favor and ask him how much power the Turks exactly have, would you? His answer should be interesting to you. Everyone else seems to love it. Just tell him Rufus said to ask."
"O – of course," Elena'd said, not sure what that meant to her. All she'd known was that she'd almost backed into an expensive-looking luxury car on her way out into the garage while watching him. "Thanks for helping me with Hojo back there. Maybe I can repay the favor sometime?" She'd swallowed. "Over coffee or something?"
Rufus, which was the only title she'd associated him with at that time, had looked a bit puzzled, then he'd nodded. "We'll see when my schedule opens up. Care to walk me to my car? I'm sure Reno will be as late as always."
Elena had nodded slightly, and followed him down a row of cars. "You seem to know a lot of people in the company," she'd said casually. "I'm sorry if I should know you, but. . .well, being one of the only two women in the SOLDIER program, we didn't get the best treatment. And nobody told us what the hell was going on. Holy, we missed the inauguration. I don't even know who stepped up as president."
The blonde man had shrugged with a small smile. "Don't worry about it. Not your fault. To let you know, Old Man ShinRa's son stepped up, young as he is." He'd angled toward a discreet black car and flipped out his keys, whistling sharply.
Elena had been stunned as a black panther stalked out from between Rufus' car and the next, walked over to him with a threatening look, but had nuzzled his legs when it had reached him. Rufus had scratched its ears and glanced at Elena, nodding at the animal. "This is my bodyguard, so to speak. Dark Nation."
The rookie Turk, still a bit flushed, had nearly said, "Pleased to meet you," before realizing it would be foolish. Instead, she'd knelt down next to it and let it smell her hand before petting it cautiously. She'd said to Rufus, who had just unlocked his car, "It's a very pretty animal. I'm surprised you can keep these domestically."
"Not everyone can," he'd admitted, then whistled again. Dark Nation had turned sharply, bounded for the car, and hopped in through the door Rufus had just opened. The blonde man had gotten into the car himself and then looked at her with another smirk. "Then again, being president of the company has its perks." With a slam of the door, turn of the key, and squealing of tires, Rufus C. ShinRa had left her stunned.
'Holy. . .he was. . .the son of. . .he's my. . .that was the president?'
Deciding not to dwell on the fact she'd just made friends with the highest person in the company, Elena had made her way down the row of reserved parking spaces, more than a little giddy. 'Holy, he was cute,' had said her schoolgirl side. 'Be professional; he's your boss's boss, for Leviathan's sake,' had said her adult side.
Either way, she'd found Reno's car with no trouble at all. Parked between a newly-washed Wutai Maximum that she'd figured as Tseng's and a Cumulonimbus Excalibur – an unnecessarily large SUV with two gas tanks and a bulletproof undercover – that she'd guessed was Rude's was what could have been called a Little Blue Tin Can. The name of it was, actually, a Mideel Swiftrider.
From the broken back windows to the crack in the windshield to the three missing door handles – thus the point of the broken windows – to the bumper sticker that proudly proclaimed FUCK OR BUST, the car had oozed Reno, even from the limited time she'd known him as of then.
The passenger side window had been rolled down, and Elena had climbed in to wait for her guide for the day. She had quickly decided that was a mistake as she felt the hamburger she'd just landed in seep through the skirt she'd worn for the interview.
"If this doesn't get any better," she'd growled, "I'm quitting this fucking job tomorrow!" She'd thrown the burger out the window onto the sidewalk and looked around. The material that made up the "ceiling" was completely collapsed and had had many tear marks in it. The most updated thing she'd seen in the car was a minimum-budget tape player. Cigarette cartons and fast food wrappers had made up the floor of the car, and it had smelled like something had actually died in there. The ashtray had been completely packed, of course.
Reno had arrived in about ten minutes, opening the driver's door with a metallic sound and closing it so hard that the car had rattled. He'd lit another cigarette and started the car – the poor, outdated Swiftrider had coughed a cloud of dust as he'd spun it out if its parking space – before even having acknowledged she was there. When he had, it had been halfway out of the lot and his first words had been, "Where'd you put my burger?" It wasn't like he would have been able to eat it; he was driving one-handed. "And don't even insult the car – it's a hometown model."
She'd decided not to even respond to that as they'd pulled out of the garage and onto the single road that led toward the business district of Upper Midgar. "I've been around the city enough by now, Reno. Can we just eat at someplace half-decent and call it even? Hell, I'll pay."
Reno had considered it, then decided that not having to pay was as good a reason as any to take her to lunch. Besides, it saved him the trouble of droning on about a city he was damn near fed up with by now. Slamming on the brakes, he'd spun the Little Blue Tin Can around in a tight circle and gunned it for DJ's, an old-fashioned retro restaurant that had been one of the nicer places to eat.
Five minutes into the trip, which had consisted a lot of dodging traffic while the radio – obviously not working – had just come in as loud bursts of static once in awhile, Reno had decided to be decent to her. "So, ah, you're from Costa?"
She had known at that moment that he wasn't ever going to start a conversation between them again, but she'd bitten because it made the time pass more quickly. "Yeah. I've still got family there, too, but they agreed that this was best for me. Besides, after SOLDIER training, it was pretty much out of the question to go back to doing anything halfway normal. It feels good to be in the city, y'know?"
"No, I don't." Reno had taken a pull from the cigarette that Elena had just noticed in his teeth. He'd been steering with the center of the wheel, something no driving instructor recommended. A cough from the tailpipe had told her that this car was not recommended by anyone with logic, either. "I happen to miss Mideel, myself. Quiet place, but some nice-lookin' girls there, if you hit it at the tourist season. Lucky for the year-rounders, the locals are down for a decent fuck once in a while, too."
'Charming' had once again been the immediate, albeit sarcastic, thought from Elena at that statement. Reno had followed it with a grin, either out of ego or reminiscence. Whichever, Elena hadn't wanted to know. "Sounds like Mideel's full of oh-so-fun people."
"And Costa's not?" Reno had sounded genuinely surprised, turning the last corner before they got to DJ's. "Shit, everybody tells me there're parties every week or somethin'. Sounds like my kinda place. I could go there and just glide through life."
Elena had snorted, something very non-ladylike. "Sure, Reno, but there are these people, right? They're called students, and they go to this big place with books called a college. These people have this little thing inside of them called ambition. That means –"
"Yeah, yeah. Cut the shit, Rookie. I meant that you go there, do what you need to, then coast for a bit, you get me? Holy, three minutes with me and you think I'm just some ever-slacking moron with no goals in life. My goal was to be a Turk, and here I am, so I'd like to make the best of it and relax sometime." With a squeal worth mentioning on the news, they had pulled into the parking lot of DJ's and had stolen a space from someone who had been moving toward it very cautiously.
The blonde had looked around distastefully, listening to the loud complaints of the family they had just cut off. "You're a real asshole. You know that, right?"
"Shut up," he'd grumbled, turning off the car and opening his door. Elena had climbed out of her window with a bit of complaining to hear him say, "I was just trying to be nice. You're paying, so I figured I'd give you less distance to walk."
Elena had scoffed, and she actually did think she was pretty far above him. "Fine, I appreciate your efforts to benefit me. Now, I won't point out the fact you're in a handicap space, nor the fact your front end is on the curb if you'll please just eat something small so we can get out of here fairly quickly."
Reno had taken a long look at her, and then at the car. Elena. Car. Elena. Car. Elena. He'd shrugged and opened the door for her, smirking in the way he always had. "After you, Ma'am."
The blonde had rolled her eyes at him, seeing more or less no progress made, and walked inside. DJ's had been a family place a few years before the day they came in. On the day Reno and Elena had walked in, though, it had been more of a place for stoners to hang out and listen to old music out of a multicolor jukebox against the far wall.
"So," Reno had drawled, walking up to the counter, which had been vacated, so Elena didn't have any reason to protest. "Something small and cheap, huh?" He had begun muttering to himself, something that irritated the woman at the counter. Her pen had clicked against the counter for a good two minutes before she'd asked, quite politely, "May I help you?"
The redhead had looked at her with an expression that said he was shocked she would ask such a thing. Elena, by this time, had begun to get fed up with his nonchalant yet bastard-esque attitude. "No, you can't. But a burger basket can, so get me one of those."
Elena had just gaped at his backside, which, for the woman behind the register, would suffice as an apology from him. She'd known at that moment that Reno wasn't your average Turk, let alone your average person.
"Of course," ground out their clerk. "And for you, Miss?"
"Umm. . .I'll just have the same," Elena had said, more than a little nervously. She didn't need to be starting trouble with the local businesses on the first day. The woman had seemed to take her order a lot better than Reno's, and called it back to the kitchen.
Their food had come relatively quickly and, via Reno's request, they had taken a seat in a booth by the window. He'd claimed that he wanted to make sure no one stole his car, a statement Elena had rolled her eyes at as she'd started in on her fries. "So," she'd said, venturing into conversation. "How was your childhood in Mideel?"
It had taken him a moment to remember he'd told her the Swiftrider was a hometown model, but after sucking on the straw to his malt, he'd shrugged. "I'ono. Wasn't too bad, I suppose. Like I said, the tourist season brought a lot of business, but once I was sixteen, I shot outta there like a bullet. Went to Junon Excel, six year course, got my –"
"Wait, wait." Elena had raised her hands and cut him off. "You're not out of high school until eighteen, and I'm sure you didn't take a six year course as a drop-out. Whose hair did you have to pull to get that to work?"
Reno had almost pointed at her with his broken arm, but he winced and put it back down, menacing look retreating with it. "For your information, Rookie, I graduated two years early with flying colors. Then I went to college at JXL for six years, as opposed to the usual eight, took one year in SOLDIER when I was twenty-three, and I've been a Turk for seven years. That puts me at the thirty years my birth certificate has existed." He'd grabbed a fry casually and eaten it, ignoring her surprised look.
"Waitwaitwaitwait," she'd said hurriedly, switching expressions to 'confused.' "You're that much of a prodigy scholastic-wise and you're still as much of a slob as this?" she'd queried, motioning toward the way he was sitting. With Rufus or Tseng, she would have been much tenser, but with Reno, it had felt like their conversations were light-hearted and insult volleying, even that early in their relationship.
The redhead had taken genuine offense, despite the fact he'd had a ring of ketchup around his lips. "Listen, you bleach-blonde bimbo. I've had it up to here with your endless bitching about the way I live. If you're gonna be daddy's little girl in Costa with your perfect life, you go fucking do it. I'll be a Turk, I'll do my job, and I'll coast through life on a fat board of fear. If that doesn't sit with you, then shove it a bit farther up your ass and waddle out of our team, because we don't want someone who just pisses and moans about our way of doing things. Conform or get the fuck out. Savvy?"
As unassertive as he had come off, this had taken Elena by more than just a little bit of surprise. She had been expectant of, at the most, a heated "What of it?" or something along those lines. But she'd been shown then that Reno's other face would put her in her place sooner than later.
"Any more questions?" he'd asked, mood having been considerably worsened within the last five minutes.
It hadn't been easy to keep sitting there, but she'd known that that might have very well been a test. And so she'd done what she could to show him she wasn't just a pushover, "bleach-blonde bimbo" that he'd thought. "Have you ever considered anger management courses, Reno?" she'd asked, not horribly sweetly but still with a bit of glee.
Reno had given her a look that could probably wither the healthiest of flowers for about twenty seconds – the twenty seconds in which Elena had kept her mutated smile on – and then he'd smiled as well. "Yeah, I go on Tuesdays and Fridays. Good answer, by the way; if you'd said no, I might have had to shoot you." He'd taken a bite of his burger and then a suck from his malt. The way he did this had been the way of a man who knew how to do things not just with one hand, but with his feet if he'd needed to.
The blonde had felt the urge to ask, so she had. "So, all that stuff about your schooling. . .was that just a test to make me call you a slacker?" She'd still thought of him as that, she'd decided as she'd finished off her fries.
"No," he'd chuckled. "Actually, that's exactly how things went. Needless to say, I was the youngest in my graduating class, and I passed with flying colors. Not excelling above everyone, but far enough to put me in a "comfortable" position."
Elena had seemed skeptical, taking a bite of her half-eaten hamburger, that she'd been getting the entire story. "So you're going to sit here and tell me that, despite how well you did in school, the best thing you could manage was a Turk position?"
The redhead had held up a finger, then swallowed the four fries he'd been chewing. "Nu-uh. I don't even know why I'm telling a rookie this. . .maybe it's just because I couldn't care less about how much people know about me. . .anyway, it's like I said in the car. My ambition was to be a Turk. Ever since I was young and I heard about what they could do without catching shit from Mr. Authority, I wanted to join the team. And here I am now." He'd tugged his lapels.
She'd thought on it for a moment, and then nodded. "I can see the reasoning. You can pretty much do whatever the hell you want in this group without having to clean up after yourself, right?" She hadn't been sure it was the idea of that she'd liked as much as being able to flaunt her authority while learning things at the same time. "Speaking of doing whatever the hell you want, what did happen to your arm? I think I deserve to know why I'm here."
Reno had become a bit nervous then, rubbing his neck with his good hand. "Y'know the Sector Seven Plate Drop that's been all over the news?" Elena had stared at him dumbly; she had heard about it, of course, but she hadn't wanted to believe what she'd been hearing. "Yeah, yeah. I'm not proud of it, so let's just leave it at that, alright?"
It had been at that time, Reno sucking more malt through his straw, she'd remembered what Rufus had told her. "Hey, Reno, can you tell me something?" she'd asked.
He'd made that over-exasperated "ah!" sound when he'd swallowed, drumming his fingers on the side of the malt cup. He hadn't been sure just how much he could tell her yet, and hadn't known what the question would be, but it had seemed harmless enough. "Shoot."
Swallowing, Elena had asked, "Just how much po –"
"Hold that thought," Reno had interrupted. He'd reached into his pocket and removed his phone and beeper. The beeper had been placed on the table, which it rattled across. Reno had hit a speed-dial number on the phone and put it to his ear.
Elena had caught little of the conversation, seeing as how she'd been just hearing half of it. Reno had said, "Yeah, what? . . . I suppose so, but I thought I was – yeah, okay. Fuck's sake, Tseng, settle down; I'll come do it. . . . Take her where? I thought sh – okay, okay. Holy, I'll stop thinking, okay? . . . Right. Right. Right, okay, be there in fifteen at the most." He'd put the phone away, replaced his escaping beeper, and checked his watch. "Tseng's got something for me to do, I guess."
The blonde had stood up as well, not bothering to clean up. "And where are you taking me? I caught that much of it."
"Home," he'd sighed, starting for the door. She'd followed after him, hurrying to catch up. "I guess he doesn't think you're ready for the executive business end of the stick yet, so he said you can have the day off to go do your own thing. I know you're bummed, it being your first day and all, but I'd kill for a day off. Seven years and counting, I've been on the clock. You're lucky."
Elena had sighed, "Yeah, I suppose so," as she'd gotten into the Little Blue Tin Can. He had taken her to her apartment with one more call from Tseng that he was moving too slowly, and a Force officer visit that said the exact opposite. When he'd pulled up outside of her building, though, she'd been almost sad to have their meeting end that early. She'd figured out early that he could grow on her.
As she'd been getting out of the car – again though the window – he'd looked around a bit nervously before saying, "Hey, ah, maybe I'll come pick you up for dinner if Tseng lets me off or something. He can't keep me too long, after all. I do have a busted arm."
The blonde had grinned back through the open window and him and shaken her head. "Don't think so. I've got a date with Rufus."
He hadn't been sure whether to smile or cringe, so he'd just looked forward and started driving, calling back, "Way to be, Rookie; way to be!"
Two years later, there they were. Reno and Elena had fled ShinRa when the new owner, a man that promised to do much better at ruining the planet than Rufus, had taken over. They'd decided not to have anything to do with his notorious scheming. Rude had refused to come along because his loyalties still ran with what Tseng had left them, but he hadn't said a thing about the other two's whereabouts.
And their fellow felon, Yuffie Kisaragi, had found them on their hunt for a hideout. She'd threatened to turn them over to Wutai, who still enforced the electric chair – even for criminals from other cities – but an ultimatum had been met. She said nothing about them if they hid her from the duties she would have to perform as queen. They all knew Godo wasn't going to last very much longer, and she had agreed.
Now, the shit had just hit the fan. At Yuffie's cry of "Elena! They shot him!" the day they had met sped past Elena's eyes before the word was even croaked from her own throat, but it still came:
"Shit!"
She started running back toward them so quickly that she slipped once and fell to her knees. A hands-and-knees scramble got her the rest of the way. By the time she'd gotten there, Yuffie had sat against the fence and pulled Reno into her arms, leaving a trail of red on the concrete where he body had been.
"E – Elena!" she gasped. "H – he's gonna die if we don't do something! We've gotta do something, Elena! We've gotta take him somewhere! He can't die!" she yelled, cradling his head against her chest. He was still awake, but Yuffie was right; he would fade fast, judging by the guns the Force was using.
Reno was trying to make a sentence, but it looked like something had caught him at least partially in one of his lungs. "F – fucking gun shot me, coming up the l – ladder. Shoulda been quicker, huh?" He coughed, and already he was hacking blood. As tough as Reno seemed at times, he was possibly the most frail person Elena knew. "T – take my wallet. Get some m – money and go for dinner."
"Shut the fuck up, Reno," Elena scolded him, sitting back on her haunches to think. The hospital was out of the question, not to mention too far. They didn't have any friends nearby. Yuffie didn't know any first aid techniques, and Elena's took time and supplies, neither of which they had. Surely the Force was waiting just around the corner for their surrender, too.
The blonde looked them over. Yuffie's head was bowed, arms around Reno's neck as his chest leaked. Reno's eyes were fixed on Elena's in an expression that said "I always kinda loved you; you know that, right?" Elena wanted to tell him to shut up because he wasn't going to die, but she knew two problems with that. One, he hadn't said anything.
Two; yes, he was.
"Holy, Elena! We have to do something!" Yuffie howled at her, voice betraying what she always said. It was definite that the ninja didn't want just a business relationship with the cocky redhead, and he probably would have made a pretty good match for her somewhere along the line. Elena watched them, both rather bloodstained and only one dying.
And then it all came back to Elena; the question she'd never asked. Reno, she could tell, was maybe a minute away from the inevitable, and the rotors of a helicopter made chopping sounds above the trio. She crawled over to them, close to Reno's head. Not too close, but close enough to be heard.
"Hey, Reno," she said softly, smirking. "Just how much power did the Turks have?"
It took a moment to register, but she saw a laugh bark out behind the gloss of his eyes. He feebly pulled her closer, and whispered something she could hear over the blaring of a bullhorn from the helicopter. His grip loosened up, and his head turned to the side, eyes and mouth still open.
His other hand was a limp pointing gesture toward the sky, and Elena started to laugh, tears running down her face as she turned and looked up to an ironic hole in the clouds.
She whispered it for him.
"We could have opened the fucking sky if we'd wanted to."
-
-Fin.