Title: Doloriferous
Word Count: 2833
Pairings: Minor TsengxElena and some TsengxRufus
Synopsis: Late evening, Friday, Rufus has been sedated for sleep; the Geostigma is far too painful for him otherwise. Tseng has anticipated a night in, a take away and Elena forcing him to watch some awful movie about giant monsters invading Wutai, and he just knows he'll end up loving it… He didn't expect to understand the mindset behind mutiny just a little bit more.

AN:- half-brother: cannon, mentioned in CC. Mutiny connection? Is there one? Meh that's up to you. I also actually looked up (well found the scene in AC) Healin Lodge, because I kept thinking it was spelt Haelin, I'd managed to miss the small font: Geostigma Sanatorium In Love Of Silence. Strange I'd always assumed it was purely a ShinRa thing… You know, cos of the flag ¬_¬ cover up maybe? Or just a group of different buildings and Rufus happens to be in one… Too many possibilities, I changed it a bit, it's more of a complex in this.

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Doloriferous

Friday evening. Late March.
A fine drizzle was falling.
Tseng was however, comfortable, for a given value, all things considered, and warm and dry. He coveted warm and dry over many things, as his time as a Turk seemed to put him in situations of distinct discomfort which had involved, among other similar and worse, damp caves, mines, musty temples, reeking reactors and, one of the worst, the end of a sword -none of these things compared to his comfy second hand sofa (a substandard replacement for his old one) in his suite in Healin Lodge which had been very kindly given to him by one doctor who now lived off site.

But as for discomfort, well he seemed to have a gift for that last one.
The sword.

As if on cue, his new bruises and wounds tensed and he winced. As if Sephiroth hadn't been enough, as if Elena's expression hadn't made all the pain so much worse, as if Kadaj… He scowled, anger twisted in his chest, at least Sephiroth had stuck to merely killing you, or attempting to at the least, that remnant though, he was just sadistically cruel. Elena's agonised expression appeared in his head and he closed his eyes tightly as the bandaged burns on his wrists ached in response.

"Oh Elena…" Elena, now then, lets think of her, and takeaway and bad movies, his stoic face almost smiled, ah yes, replace those memories, think of tonight, tonight would be good, relaxing and, hopefully, painless.

Still, Tseng was nervous, it had taken them so long to get past the initial awkwardness: her exuberance and innocence had always clashed with his own dry personality, and on more than one occasion his sharp criticism had had her practically in tears, but he had honestly liked her, and she him, so they'd, somehow, persevered.
These days he could even make her laugh.
Was that a comment on their relationship or him?
Maybe it was the pain they'd suffered together.
He stood up stiffly to tidy up some, he was normally impeccably tidy, unlike some he could name, but the injuries had slowed him down and he'd decided that any serious tidying could wait. He passed the window, saw across the way the President's window -curtains drawn, dull orange light filtering out- and stopped and sighed heavily as the light vanished. Ah, yes. Rufus. His pain was far worse, Tseng couldn't relate to it, he'd escaped the sickness, so far, his pain, Elena's pain, would pass in time. But the young President… Who knew? People had died of this. Sometimes Rufus showed signs of improving, like being able to face Cloud as he had a while ago, but sometimes, like tonight, the pain just grew beyond excruciating.
Tseng remembered the explosion of the ShinRa Building, Rufus, hurt but not killed, had at least been able to give him a weary, arrogant, smile, his eyes had still been cold, fearless, blue. Not glazed and unseeing in agony. Tseng pressed his hand to his forehead and mourned for his young boss, if he'd not lost religion a long time ago he might pray for him. He didn't think his prayers would be answered though.

Tseng wondered, as he limped into the kitchenette, if the sedation was even really bringing Rufus any relief, or if he was just caught up in a nightmare of darkness and Mako.
How much of that nightmare would be the disease?

A knock on the door snapped him out of his cognitive state and he turned as the door clicked open, unlocked for her, Elena, who's smiling, still bruised, face was peering around at him now, "Hello, sir," she said and he smiled, waving her in.

The movie truly was awful.
Tseng did love it.
Elena probably did too, but it was kind of hard to tell if she was enjoying the movie or being allowed to snuggle up to his arm. Hopefully both. Tseng glanced down at her, "Elena…?"
"Hmn?"
"… I'm glad you are okay."
"You too, Tseng," she looked up, "It was a close one though, wasn't it?" He nodded and turned back to the movie, it was the first time they'd addressed the issue, they obviously weren't going to discuss it in any great depth, "I'm glad he helped us."

"Yes, he has no reason to be good to us, yet he saved us."
"I believe he is a good man. Strange taste in clothes never the less."
Elena smiled, "His files say he used to be a Turk."
"Doesn't surprise me."
"Over 30 years ago?"
"Still doesn't surprise me. A lot has happened in the last few decades."
"Sephiroth was born for one thing."
"Indeed," his voice tightened up and Elena looked up at his foxish face as it scowled,
"You blame him for what's happening. The Geostigma." It wasn't really a question but Tseng answered anyway; "Who else can I blame?"
Elena shrugged, "Jenova's at fault I heard. Sephiroth and the clones are just… Puppets."
Like us, Tseng thought, but kept his mouth shut.

The movie came to a close with much rejoicing and a big hulking monster carcass stinking up the city centre, Elena sat up unwillingly when Tseng wanted to put the trash in the bin, "You should let me do that," she said softly, "I can walk."
"I can walk well enough," Tseng returned, but Elena didn't think so as he hobbled to the kitchen again. It was as he hobbled back, rubbing the mark on his forehead like it pained him, that there came a knock on the door and both Turks froze, wondering who it could be at this time. For an instant Kadaj's group flickered into their thoughts. But then, they wouldn't knock.

It came again, and Tseng quickly realised that it was less and knock and more of a tired thump-scrabble-knock. A dull thud followed it, like someone slumping against the door, Elena stood up worriedly, but Tseng strode past her, wincing with each step. "Don't…" she whispered as he seemed about to wrench open the door, he shot her a look and opened it gingerly. Standing by the sofa, Elena saw his shoulders slump and his arms reach out as he opened the door wider, a shivering hunched figure of a man was guided by the Turk's hand and away from the door to Tseng's chest. Elena stepped out of the way as Tseng guided the quaking Presidential form to the sofa to sit down, "Sir," she said, for formalities sake, at a lose to do anything else. Tseng sank to his bruised knees and held the young man up by the shoulders, "Sir," he said softly, slowly, "Is there something wrong?" stupid question "Why are you here? You should be resting."
Rufus looked up, eye's unfocused, "…Woke up… Doctor wasn't there…" he frowned, "It hurts," he said and reached up to his blackened cheek, Tseng frowned that had come up in the last few days, "It hurts…"

Tseng looked up at Elena and grimaced, "Sorry," his look said, and she shrugged, "Look after him," she mouthed as she picked her way around the coffee table to the door, though she had to force down her grudge against her boss, Tseng would drop everything for him, even her.

Tseng had sat beside Rufus; he'd buried his face against Tseng's shoulder and seemed asleep, or unconscious. Pain? Sedatives working again? How bad must he have been hurting for him to wake up through the haze of drugs?
The rain grew heavier; Tseng went to close the curtains, but Rufus's tendon lined hand shot out and grabbed the Turk's shirt. Tseng took the bruised hand in his own and sat down again, Rufus sat up weakly and peered at him, then their hands then Tseng again; he sighed and sunk down against his chest.
Now Rufus hadn't eaten well in weeks, and he'd been slight to begin with, Tseng barely noticed when Rufus drew up his legs in an attempt to curl up closer to his bodyguard, but he did and Tseng wrapped his arms around Rufus and drew him up onto his lap. It wasn't a familiar feeling, being this close to… anyone. Last time he'd been this close to his charge and boss was almost 15 years ago, when he'd been a much younger man, new to the Turks, the guard to the President's petulant teenage son.

Rufus had been ill then, too.
Wracked with a fever, unable to sleep, restless.
Tseng had tried and failed to get him to sleep, to rest at least, but he wouldn't listen.
They'd sat together on the couch then, watching the TV until there was nothing to watch, Rufus had fallen asleep, he head on Tseng's lap, and the Turk had been unable to do anything but sleep sitting up. He smirked, thinking of the crick he'd had in his neck the next morning and the looks that he'd got from the older Turks for ages afterwards. The President's Son's Little Pet. Little Lap Dog. Well he'd shown them -he glanced down at Rufus, his eyes were slightly open, and he was frowning, thinking about something or fighting back the pain- well maybe not, but there were worse people to be devoted to. Devoted? Well, yes, he supposed so, he'd risked death for him, wasn't that devotion? Was it a good thing?
Rufus stirred and brought his hand up against Tseng's chest, the Turk looked down at his charge, the man looked deep in thought, hand rising with each breath Tseng took.
Tseng reached up and took Rufus's hand in his own, instantly the young President jumped and grabbed Tseng's hand in both of his and clutched at it, burying his face against the smooth skin and tracing the roughened trigger finger with his own slender fingers, "Tseng…?" he croaked,
"Yes, sir?"
"… This is the retribution of the planet; it… does this to punish me…"
"No, sir."
"Do not contradict me, I know, and I deserve it."
Tseng's thin eyebrows knotted, "And the others who are sick?"
"Collateral, hit enough people and you are bound to hit your mark sooner or later."
Tseng smirked. Sick and weak, but still the self centred boy he'd always known. Boy? Well, Rufus aged, Tseng aged but the gap between them would always remain the same, and Rufus had never really grown up, or maybe he'd just never had a childhood.

"I think I'm going to die."
"No you won't."
"How can you be so sure…?"
"Elena said the same thing when Kadaj's group caught us. I said we'd survive—" I wasn't going to leave you in this state "—and we did, if we survived that, a man as strong as you can pull through this. I know you…"
"You are my body guard, nothing more, how can you know me?"
"I've known you for many years, always been there, you can learn a lot, by just being there."
"You… have always been there," Rufus nuzzled his hand again, turned his face and hid against the Turk's chest, Tseng winced, his wounds ached, the stitches in his side pained him, but he didn't think it was bad enough to push Rufus off of him, "Any one else… And it would make you a friend… But I pay you. Pathetic."

"Do I pay my friends… to be there?"
"…You pay your employees. Not your friends. I've always been there, because I wanted to be there. I was once offered a different position in the ShinRa, I turned it down, I wanted to watch over you."
"Is that right...? Then you and I are as pathetic as each other."

"I do not need that sort of attention."
"Your father thought you did."
"My father was a paranoid fool."

Rufus was asleep, or appeared to be. Tseng had dosed for a while, until he'd slipped sideways and his stretched flank blossomed with pain and he awoke with a start, Rufus mumbled something and Tseng froze, eventually the president stilled again and Tseng was left alone, for what Rufus's companionship was worth, and in silence, he glanced at the door, half willing Elena to show up, if only to give him her sad little rejected smile and to whisper, "Good night, see you tomorrow," at least it would mean he wasn't totally alone.

Was Rufus… company?
Could he be really called that, or was he only an employer?
If ShinRa was totally lost, Tseng didn't think he would leave him, but would he be wanted. If all was lost, Rufus might turn his back on all of them and just… leave. Leave? Go where? Rufus's education was business orientated, that and etiquette, the boy could speak Cetra, but could he get a job doing anything but management?

Somehow Tseng doubted there was much call for ex-ShinRa CEOs in everyday business.

He sat quietly and cogitated.
He was good at that.
He wondered what was going to happen, short term… Long term… When was Rufus's heartbeat going to slow? What was going to happen to ShinRa? What was going to happen to Planet if Sephiroth returned again?
If Cloud and his friends –you can bet he didn't pay them to stick around- defeated the General this time too, what did that mean? Would anything change and what would happen to the ShinRa and Rufus?
Tseng closed his eyes and leant back, he was going in circles now.

Seconds later Tseng opened his eyes again and realised it had actually been hours. The golden hands of his deco-clock glimmered in the light of the side-lamp; they told him it was 05:35. The sun would be up soon.
"Late isn't it, or early, depending on your point of view," give him his dues, Tseng didn't miss a beat when Rufus's voice cut through the heavy silence.
"I'd say early, sir, as we have both slept."
"…Can you feel your feet?"
"Are you worried, sir?"
"I'd like you to be able to walk when I get up," Rufus wriggled, and Tseng did flinch back then, and dropped down onto the sofa beside the Turk, "Well?"
"My feet are fine, thank you, sir."
"You stopped saying that last night. 'Sir' I mean."
"My apologies, sir, a slip of fatigue, it will not happen again."
Rufus turned his cold eyes on Tseng and gave him a long, critical, look, "I don't mind that much, Tseng," he said and looked away and around the room. Tseng ignored the awkwardness of the messy suite and watched Rufus's profile, the 'stigma on his cheek had faded some, probably a good sign, his gaze slipped along the delicate cheek bone and down Rufus's slender nose, slightly, not unattractively beaked, and dropped to the pale lips, slightly parted, cracked and dry, a side affect of the illness, and wondered how he would change as he aged, if he was anything like his half-bother, not badly he supposed. Tseng blinked, Rufus's lips pulled up into a sardonic smirk, "You're staring Tseng."
"I apologise, sir."
"What were you thinking about?"
"Sir?"
"I know you well enough to know when you are contemplating something. What was it?"
So you got to know me over the years, but not I you? "I was thinking about how tired you look. I should take you back to the medics."
"No. Don't. I need to go somewhere else, I can't waste time there."
"What would you have me do."
"Shower, get dressed, take me to my room so that I may do the same and call Reno, I need to get to Midgar, quickly…" pause, "Tseng?"
"Sorry sir, right away sir," he stood up glanced over his shoulder, but Rufus wasn't looking he was turned away still finding the way Tseng lived interesting it seemed. Tseng shook his head and almost hurried away, he didn't approve of the President's decision, but he trusted that Rufus wasn't making an arbitrary choice and that there was deliberation behind his actions.
Or maybe the 'stigma had affected his mind.
This couldn't be a sensible move.
Weren't the remnants in Midgar?
He'd make sure Elena came along too; they could both keep an eye on the President then. Maybe he'd get a chance to apologise; he doubted she was going to be too happy with him, but then… She'd always known that any connection she had with Tseng would be divided with Rufus, right? He'd never questioned it himself.

Tseng hesitated, hand over the shower controls. "I never questioned it before, but life… my life… equates to him. That can not be healthy, but I don't think I'd like to change it. There is pain to be borne, on all sides, but I think the pros outweigh the cons. Yes, there are definitely worse people to work for, even be devoted to," he smiled softly, and understood the mutiny in Junon at the time of Meteor a just a little bit more.