Author's Note: I always wondered, how long did Rufus deal with the geostigma himself before ending up in that wheelchair in Advent Children? How long would it have taken the turks to figure out that something was wrong? I guess this is my answer. With bonus RufusxReno fluff.

I do not own these characters.

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With no one to witness, Rufus Shinra allowed himself a grin as he pressed the button of his intercom.

"Reno, could I see you in my office, please?"

"Right away, Boss." The red-haired turk pushed back from his desk, whistling as he opened the desk drawer to retrieve his EMR(it would never do for a turk to go anywhere unarmed). As he turned to leave the turk's shared office, Tseng called after him.

"What is it that the President wants now, Reno?"

Reno shrugged eloquently, and made his way up the stairs, whistling all the way to Rufus' office on the top floor.

Things were good for Reno right now. Sure, between Avalanche and Meteor and the rest, Shinra was in shambles, and they were running the entire operation out of the relatively tiny Healin Lodge, but it could have been worse. Rufus was entirely recovered from the injuries he had suffered in the blast. Reno was grateful. It had been pretty touch and go for a while, but the young president's will to live and a good dose of Cure materia had kept Rufus Shinra from fading into the life stream. And now that there wasn't so much paperwork, Rufus had more time for other things. Things like Reno.

Reno knocked on the door to the room that in the small building served as Rufus Shinra's office and bedroom. He didn't wait for a response before opening the door and poking his head into the room. "You wanted to see me, boss?"

Rufus was still sitting at his desk, typing away on the keyboard of the poor excuse for a computer that Tseng had managed to find him. "Close the door please, Reno."

Reno smirked. Exactly as he expected, this was going to be one of those meetings. "Yes, sir." The door clicked shut, and Reno slid the lock into place. He turned around to find Rufus standing in front of him. The president wound his fingers in Reno's long red hair and pressed their lips together.

"So you missed me then, boss?" Reno asked softly, laughter in his voice.

Without consulting Rufus, Tseng had sent Reno away from the compound, on a mission back into the darkened ruins of Midgar. Rufus had worried for his favorite turk's safety the entire time he had been gone. But of course, he wasn't going to tell Reno that. It was part of their little game. Each knew the depths of the feelings the other held for him, expressed in fierce kisses and soft caresses, but they never said it out loud. Rufus pretended to be the cold and uncaring president they both knew he wasn't. Reno, for his part, rarely called Rufus anything other than 'boss,' even when there wasn't anyone around to hear.

So instead of responding, Rufus tore Reno's jacket from his shoulders. If only the others knew how much of Reno's sloppy uniform could be blamed on Rufus Shinra's impatience. Reno took Rufus actions as a yes.

He tugged Rufus behind the screen that separated the president's sleeping quarters from his office space, removing Rufus's jacket and shirt far more carefully than Rufus had removed him. The president could not be allowed to look rumpled, after all.

It took him a while, with Rufus laughing softly all the while, but Reno finally managed to remove the many layers of Rufus's shirts. With a grin of victory, he pushed Rufus onto his back on the bed. Climbing onto the bed himself, Reno pressed his lips to Rufus's chest, leaving a light trail of bite marks and worked his way towards the waistband of Rufus' pressed white trousers.

Rufus closed his eyes, blond head falling back against the pillows as his turk went to work. He was relaxed and happy, enjoying the sensations, when all of a sudden, Reno stopped. Rufus could feel Reno's long fingers gently stroking the skin just above his right hip bone. Rufus opened his eyes, reading the concern written on Reno's face, Reno, who didn't worry about anything.

"Hey, Rufus?"

"What is it, Reno?" Rufus reached out and tucked a strand of the turk's brilliant hair behind his ear.

"There's something on your skin." Reno bit his lip, looking up into Rufus' blue eyes. He couldn't keep the worry off of his face. His heart had nearly stopped when he found the blotch, a dark grey, almost black, patch on Rufus' perfect pale skin, the size of a large coin. They had all heard the rumors of a new disease spreading among the survivors from the city. They were calling it Geostigma. It caused dark patches to spread across the skin, accompanied by pain, and eventually death. No one had yet found a cure. Probably, because no one with any real resources had been trying.

Rufus stood, stepping over to stand shirtless in front of the full length mirror on the back of the closet door. He ran his fingers over the blotch, exactly as Reno had done.

"Boss?" Reno asked uncertainly. "Is it?" He was unable to bring himself to name the disease.

Rufus shook his head. "Who knows?" He took a new shirt from a hanger in the closet, the one Reno had removed has inevitable wrinkled now, and began to fasten the buttons, his hands calm and steady, despite the panic thudding in his own heart. Reno's hands were fisted worriedly in Rufus's bed sheets.

Once he was properly attired, Rufus leaned over with a small smile and pressed a kiss to Reno's lips. "I'm sure it's nothing," he said, handing the turk his black uniform jacket. "You should get back to work."

"Y…yes, sir." Reno took a deep breath to calm himself. He headed out into the office space.

"Reno." Rufus' voice called after him.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Please do keep this to yourself."

Unable to speak for the lump in his throat, Reno nodded, and headed back down to his desk.

XXxXxXx

With Reno gone, Rufus opened a window and retrieved a packet of cigarettes from the drawer of the bedside table. They belonged to Reno, but Rufus had been known to borrow one or two when he had a particularly bad day. He figured that this counted. He found Reno's lighter, and lit the cigarette, taking a deep breath of the smoke and carefully exhaling it out the open window. How long, he wondered, could he keep this from his turks? How long, he wondered, did he have to live?