Yes, I'm well aware that I'm not the first person - probably not even within the first million - to have written a "Reno got beat up!" fic. Why do we enjoy torturing him so? He's just very... torturable. (Not a real word, I know.) Anyhoo, I hope I've managed to put my own twist on this hideously overdone plot angle.

If this seems vaguely familiar to anyone, well, that's because this is a repost. It's called recycling. I do it with pop cans, I do it with my fanfiction. Go me. I rule the world.

I don't own any of the Final Fantasy VII characters, locations, etc.

Reno's apartment. I'm sitting next to him on the couch. I'm in a suit. I'm on the clock after all. He's in a t-shirt and a long pair of shorts. Knee in a brace and propped up on his coffee table, arm in a cast and wearing a sling; he's on disability. The TV is on. Reno's got it on the news. Don't ask me why. He and I both know better than any newscaster what's really going on here in Midgar. Maybe he's watching it for kicks. Who knows. I guess I could ask him, but I don't know if I want to risk pissing him off. Again.

He's been a really grumpy SOB. Hot and cold. Suppose I can't blame him - I'd be the same way if I'd gone on a simple mission and ended up bruised and broken like he is now. He pretty much summed it up when he said, "The things I do for this fucking job."

The things he does... Well, he dropped the plate above Sector Seven, and took a pretty good beating for it. Black eye, broken right arm, and a sprained knee.

Speaking of that... I stand up and head for the kitchen. Reno hardly stirs. I dig around in his freezer, looking for some ice for his knee. The ice trays are all empty, both the normal ones, and the novelty tray shaped like a pair of tits. I grab all three ice trays and fill them up for later. I put them back in the freezer, and take out a bag of frozen peas - quite possibly the only food item in the entire apartment - and head back to the living room.

Sitting down on the couch, I say, "Time to ice your knee," and place the bag of frozen peas on his knee as gently as I can.

Reno leans forward and groans; something on the news has his attention. "I'm so sick of hearing about AVALANCHE. AVALANCHE this, AVALANCHE that. Screw AVALANCHE," he mutters.

A quiet moment passes, but the silence is short-lived. Always is when Reno's around.

"Hey, you dumb shits! Guess what? AVALANCHE didn't drop the plate - I did! And got my ass kicked for it!" Reno shouts at the TV, changing the channel, and sitting back angrily. He looks down at the frozen peas, as if he's just noticed them, and mumbles, "That's cold."

I shake my head a little. "No shit, Reno."

He sighs, and looks up at the ceiling. "I need a drink."

I shake my head again. "Can't mix your prescription with alcohol."

"Son of a bitch," Reno says, with a groan.

"I know, man," I agree, trying to sound understanding.

"What? What the hell do you know? You've never had your ass handed to you," he snaps.

I just turn away from him. It's the only way I can keep my cool. I swear, Reno's probably the only guy who can really make me lose my cool. Sure, it's been a long time since I, as he put it, "had my ass handed to me," but I took my share of beatings along the way to becoming a Turk.

I know he's just being a jerk because his pride got knocked around at least as much as the rest of him did. I'm starting to think I should've sent Elena over here to ice him and dope him up and make sure he doesn't try anything too stupid in his compromised state. You know, reaffirm that to be a Turk you really do have to be a jack of all trades. Sure, there's kidnapping and spying and all that, but there's also playing nursemaid to your broody partner when he gets fucked up in the line of duty. Elena's gonna have to learn this sooner or later.

I glance down at my watch. I'm not really sure why. I don't have to be back for a while. Tseng told me to take my time with Reno because, "We all know he can be a handful."

I nodded, and headed for the parking garage. I didn't really think of it as work. The way I saw it, I was getting paid to go hang out with Reno.

I guess I thought it would be a lot more fun, and a little less of a chore. Never figured Reno would get so bent out of shape over this. He's been pretty damn moody all day, except for when he stuck his crutch in my face and very casually asked me, "Hey, Rude? This smell like B.O. to you? You know, 'cause it's right under my armpit all the time."

I smirk, thinking back on that.

"What?" Reno asks, testy, and shoots me a look.

"Nothing."

Reno shrugs his shoulders the best he can, and winces a second later. He leans forward and plucks the frozen pea bag from his knee and tosses it onto the coffee table next to the remains of the burgers and fries I picked up for us on my way over.

I look at him, quizzically, but don't say anything until I see him reaching for his crutch. "Reno?"

"I got it," he insists, pulling himself up to a standing position, then hobbling around the coffee table.

"What are you doing?"

"I got it," he repeats, and sort of growls, giving me a dirty look.

"Fine," I say, and raise my hands in surrender. I'm through trying with him.

"I'm goin' to take a piss. You got a problem with that? You wanna come with me? Hold my hand? Or maybe you wanna hold my dick for me so I don't miss?" Reno asks, snippy as all hell.

That's gotta be one of the more inappropriate things he's said to me in all the years I've known him, and that's saying a lot, trust me. Yet I'm laughing at him for it.

"The hell are you laughing at, Rude?" he snaps. A second later he smiles at me. "You've got a sick sense of humor, man. You know that?"

"If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black," I say, simply.

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbles, hobbling toward the bathroom. "I'd kick your ass for laughing at me, but I guess I kind of need you around. Hate that I do, but damnit."

Reno's considerably cheerier once he comes out of the bathroom, which worries me a little. I wonder about his sudden change in demeanor. I wonder just what the hell about taking a piss has made him so happy. I tell myself that's just Reno being Reno, and try not to be too suspicious of him, erratic mood pattern and all.

As Reno plops himself down on the sofa once again, I move to pick up the trash, waving a paper cup in front of him and asking, "Done?"

"Don't worry about that crap. I can do it. I'm not completely helpless," he insists.

I ignore him, and head for the kitchen to throw the cups and wrappers away anyway.

"Hey!" Reno shouts. "I said I could do it!"

I pay him no mind.

"You're an asshole," he mumbles, acidly, and whacks at my leg with his crutch.

I stop, but don't bother turning to face Reno. "Do that again," I dare him.

He does.

I continue on my way to the kitchen, determined not indulge him and laugh at his antics anymore than I already have. Although I'm glad to see the Reno I'm used to seeing. I throw the trash away and head back to the living room, deciding I should get back to work soon.

"Hell yeah. That's what I'm gonna do to that douchebag Cloud, whoever the hell he thinks he is. Screw the EMR, I'm gonna beat him senseless with this baby." Reno pats the crutch.

We both chuckle for a moment, until Reno's mood turns serious again. He doesn't say anything, but then again, he doesn't have to. The look on his face says it all. I'm tempted to remind him that he was outnumbered three-to-one, but I know that's the last thing he wants to hear. I look down at my watch.

Noticing me, Reno smirks, squints, and asks, "Going back to the office, honey?"

"In a minute," I answer, and sit down next to him once again. I grab at the frozen peas and put them on his knee again.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Twenty minutes, every couple of hours," I say, pointing to the peas. "One of us'll drop by later to make sure you haven't overdosed on pain pills just for the hell of it."

Reno rolls his eyes. "Yeah yeah. Anything else?"

"Yeah." I pause.

"What?"

"Next time," I start, deciding halfway through my sentence that maybe I don't want to say it after all.

"Yeah, I know. Next time." Reno pats his crutch again.

I shake my head. "No. Next time it'll be three-on-two."

Reno sort of twists and leans toward me, grabbing at the back of my head with his good hand. He smiles at me, nods, and rubs the back of my head.

I stand up and head for the door. Opening it, I look back at Reno and tell him, "I filled your ice trays."

"All of them?"

I nod.

"You made me boob cubes, too?"

I nod.

Reno cackles.

I close the door behind me, and reach into my pocket for my car keys.

The things we do for this job, indeed...

I don't know why I put this back up. I think I felt sorry for it, like I didn't give it much of a chance here last time. So yeah, I'm pathetic. Review anyway?