less is more by frooit

ffvii au - series/sequel - act ii of tell all

part seven

.

.

.

.

They leave the casino floor, and the buffet, and take the long way to reach their acquaintance. Reno again leads them. He has the leash. He's trailing them through the backwoods of the many spiraling and interlacing stairwells of the Gold Saucer. For a change of pace, and for a purpose.

Reno's got ideas. He's always had such great plans. Not good plans, but big plans. He's going to fix something. He's got to. If it's one thing, let it be this one thing. He'll be able to go to the after party happy. He might even get away with accomplishing something. And something good.

Cloud's checked out. He's slumped and shrugging. He hasn't said much since getting up. He's worn out. He's doing his best to keep after Reno, and it's good enough. He's staying close.

It doesn't change that his colour is off. Rosy undertones are now purpled. His eyes are closed longer than they're opened. They both appear bruised, causing that angry and hanging on black eye to stand out thrice as much. He is a shell. And lucky he doesn't have that sword to lug around.

Without telling him a thing, Reno brings them back to their original room.

Cloud's standing in the corridor now, just looking inside, not making a move.

"What're we doing here?" he asks.

"Getting you some rest."

Cloud shifts his weight some and lifts his head. His messy hair slides and settles. It's enough of an increase to bring Reno into his sights. Someone passes by behind him in the hallway. Silence strengthens, trembles, and breaks.

"I got to sleep. Now it's your turn," Reno explains.

He's already inside 505 and holding the door.

"Come on," he urges, leaned and languid. "You're checked out, buddy. So… check in. Come on. I'll go grab our shit while you sleep. Even if it... sounds like a bad idea. We're safe here. You'll be safe here. I'll feel ten times safer with my guns. You'll feel… safer with the BDS. We need them, and you need to crash. I'll be back in a flash. There's my argument."

He's waving him on, reeling him in with an invisible line.

How can Cloud contest? He can't protest. He's so weary he can't keep his head up.

He stands and he looks on. Reno is patient. His face is familiar and friendly.

Cloud doesn't remember much after stepping inside the doorway. He takes that first step, that first fatal step, and by the next he's being led. Reno has his arm and he's showing him forward, pulling him along. Things melt and shift and go soft.

This isn't Cloud giving in. He had nothing left to hold out. Cloud is flowing on the rushing current. He sees and feels his clothing come off again, piece by piece. He sees and feels the mattress rise up to meet him. He comprehends only the physical world. No ugly thoughts pollute. No regrets yet stir.

Reno puts Cloud to bed. He hangs by, accommodating and kind, and even lugs the hefty blankets over his chest and up to his chin when he's down. Reno is an asset. He is needed. He is also glimpses all too close, and then all too far, and then gone.

Cloud feels his absence and a lonesome swell of longing (agonizing), until he doesn't. He doesn't feel anything, surrendered to his dreams and his body's frailty.

Now Reno has the stage.

.

.

.

He doesn't quickly return to Tseng.

Of course not. Reno has a pocket full of gil and chips ready for betting. Reno has a need to sweep the casino floor, look around, toss a round or two back, lose some money, shake some tail, and then he's going to talk to their friend.

He ends up doing only half of those things, to his benefit.

He gets on the casino floor, light and loose, feeling good, feeling lucky, and only roves and wanders and keeps his head down. He makes no bets and he loses no money. He does knock back several drinks, and he does flirt with several female servers (and a male one), and he does look around, but he finds nothing. No one holds his interest. No thrill looks thrilling. His mind stays on Cloud.

When he's nice and warm, and sliding too closely to passersby, he drifts away, looking elsewhere for greener pastures and louder distractions. He too soon finds himself dizzy and ducked against an exterior wall, the thrumming of music and pulsing of lights around him wreaking havoc on his sensitive head.

He pushes off and retreats further.

The marketplace is nice and quiet. More quiet than the roaring casino anyway. He stumbles down a thin lane, curving on into infinity. It's moist and tight, lined and hanging with the shades of colours he can't distinguish or appreciate, smells he can't decipher, and jewelry he still can't afford.

He's on the hunt for something special, and he has something in mind too. He browses, being herded along with a stream of shoppers and drifters. He's gazing, bleary-eyed, merchandise and faces blending. Voices call and fade. He's going to end up lost and hungover at this rate.

He stumbles and twists, finally stepping aside from the living river.

It's the smell that gets to him first.

A prickle, a pinch, a discomfort.

It reminds him of Zack.

He spins around, and there, before him, is a typical merchant's spread with an open selection and superfluous awnings dripping overhead. It's a bazaar style shop.

Flat and wide surfaces span, strewn with organized items and eye-catchers. Antique chests sit far removed but propped open, chalk full of fabrics and junk presented for viewing. Deeper still there are overflowing shelves, glass displays, hanging lights, and many hand-written signs.

People press in and shift by at his back.

As he looks on, Reno spots a tall bamboo rack amongst the chaos. It's riddled with butane lighters, plastic and metal, big and small. It houses upside down coils of loose-leaf tobacco, packs of pre-rolled cigarettes, electric cigarettes, and tins of tobacco chew.

He's stopped in front of a smoke shop.

Jackpot.

"Can I help you?" asks the nearby shopkeeper.

Reno stares on for a moment.

The shopkeeper stares right back.

"Uh, yeah, sorry," Reno mutters. "Cigarettes?"

"What brand?"

"What ya got?"

Without a pause the man rambles, "Shinra Select, Gold, Smooth, and Mana. Chocobo Yellow, Red and Green. Malboro. Bullseye. A few indie brands with long names. Even Stop and Slow. Most of them aren't stale."

"Stop and Slow?" Reno inquires.

"Yeah, you know… Those stupid ads the company ran years ago? Stop and enjoy our smooth blend… Slow down and relax with a blah blah blah… Shinra got to 'em early."

Reno snorts.

The shopkeeper shrugs.

"So?" he presses. "What's your poison?"

"None of the above, actually."

"Well, shit. I've got weed too. They finally legalized it here. Strawberry Cough, Tonberry Tease, Mako Madness, Cat Piss," the shopkeeper drones.

"Uh, no," Reno responds. "Maybe next time though... This is actually… for a friend of mine. What do you suggest? I'm trying to get him to quit… but don't want any tears, you know?"

"Sure…" the shopkeeper drawls.

He moves away to grab something from the precarious display behind him.

"Try these."

He's holding out a cellophane wrapped pack, clean and white.

Reno takes the pack and looks it over.

Shinra Smooth.

"Thanks," he says. "Give me two more while you're at it. Might as well… And I, uh. Need a lighter too... Not that plastic shit either. Something... durable."

.

.

.

Tseng's never been very difficult to find. More often than not he's the one finding you.

Reno knows of one place that has always attracted them both. It comes with the territory, and their bleak history. They used to have common ground there, even if they never saw eye to eye. Reno's sitting there now, waiting out the last minutes of his freedom.

Before long, Tseng slides into the barstool next to him. He cozies in on his right.

"Enjoy yourselves? No hard feelings I hope," he utters.

Reno scrunches his already hunched shoulders.

"He was like… a dirty doctor…" he grumbles.

"I can see it. Vause is a... relationship counselor... of sorts," Tseng explains, smiling to himself. "He sees people who have particular troubles. Personal. Emotional. Psychological."

"Did you know he also sells sex tapes?" Reno asks, grinning his grin and rising up to gulp the remainder of his now warm drink.

"Perhaps," Tseng replies.

"Where's our stuff?" Reno asks.

The empty glass striking the bar adds a nice punch.

"Leaving so soon?" Tseng murmurs.

"Don't like the atmosphere," Reno offers.

Tseng nods. He pauses and taps his black shoe's sole on the bar's black metal foot rail, thoughtful, restless, annoyed, or none of the above.

Tap tap tap.

"You might like to know then… I've been having a lot of Shinra guys ask about you two… By name. They've been rather adamant. And evasive about details."

"You worried about us now?" Reno groans, pushing his glass away.

"Isn't it obvious that I've always been worried?" Tseng mutters. He straightens and swivels, focusing fully on his difficult target. "If you leave the resort grounds you'll run into trouble. I wouldn't want anything to happen to my pal Vegas."

Reno tilts his head, inquisitive.

Tseng shrugs his slight shoulders.

"That's who they might think you are anyway, but that won't help you for long. It's just going to confuse them. They'll figure it out. They always do. Cloud? He was a whole different story… He's a little harder to hide."

"You covered for us?" Reno barks, finally correcting to turn and look his way.

"I might have said a few things that weren't entirely accurate…"

"Oooh, you sly dog," Reno exclaims, bouncing in his seat and then ducking to give Tseng a harmless cuff to his left shoulder. "I fucking love you. About as much as I hate you."

Tseng nods, somber and contained.

"Feeling's mutual."

Reno settles.

"So… where's our stuff?"

"How did it happen?" Tseng opts.

"What?"

"How did Vegas die?" Tseng rephrases.

"His…"

Reno has to do a retake.

"That hesitation is comforting…" Tseng notes.

The comment is not appreciated.

"His throat was cut," Reno tells him.

Tseng's eyebrows twitch. His face, now in profile, already somber, turns colder still. His whole body freezes and goes tight. He looks like he's taking it well. But, from what Reno knows of him… this is big. He's having a reaction. He's showing a reaction. And he doesn't give him long to consider it either. He's on him in seconds.

They were already sitting side by side, next to each other, leaned in, close enough for a pat on the back or a peck on the cheek. Tseng needed only to slide and step once and they meet, joining and jarring. The bridge is forded and gapped, and Reno is caught in the middle.

"Throat cut, huh?" Tseng hisses into Reno's alcohol-warmed face.

It must look intimate from the outside. It must look like Tseng is whispering secrets and desires as he pulls a docile Reno closer. Closer and closer.

It's not intimate. It's not gentle. No one would stop Tseng anyway. He's the real deal. He's the boss. He's got his fingers clawed at the back of Reno's neck and a knife (very likely Vegas') cold and flat against his rat throat.

"Where's Sephiroth?" Tseng bites out.

Reno stiffens and swallows. He's been here before. He's not too shocked, to be honest. The blade bounces and shifts and then presses in all the nearer, demanding and daring.

"Dead," he answers, low and stable.

"You better hope so," Tseng growls. "You didn't do it, did you? You couldn't have."

"No…" Reno groans, rolling his eyes—rolling them closed to the recollection and Tseng's smoldering onyx eyes. "I… I didn't get the chance."

The knife disappears and Reno is pushed back. He sways but keeps his seat.

He doesn't quickly move or speak. He blinks and watches, not sure what to expect.

Tseng is sitting as if nothing happened.

"Where's…" Reno starts to mumble.

"I shouldn't give it back," Tseng monotones.

He means the knife.

Reno sneers and rocks forward, forgetting his disadvantages so quickly.

"You'll give it back… or I take it back."

"You're willing to start a fight here?" Tseng counters. "In my casino? At my bar? With just your fists? With your boy toy locked away somewhere? How irresponsible."

"Don't force me."

"He really is dead then…"

"Yes, he fucking is. Give me his knife."

Tseng does not look ready to oblige.

"Give me his fucking knife," Reno presses.

"You'd be rather easy to get rid of right now, you know," Tseng divulges, his tone dulled to a low rumble. "No guns, no knife, no fingers, no fight. I could make a lot of people happy and finally take you out of the picture altogether. You've had more than enough time to slither around and poison innocence. You wouldn't be missed. You should be returned to your kin. Be happy knowing it'll be carried out by someone you know. And with your brother's own knife. Poetic. Proper. Easy."

"Don't fucking go there, man…" Reno growls.

He's on edge. He's throbbing. That familiar rush of sweat is biting along his arms. That swell and ache is writhing deep down in his damaged shoulder. He is turned on, ready and waiting. But. Maybe he should let it happen. Just let it happen. Just suck it up and get it over with. He's been so afraid of it this entire time. It: death, dying, permanence. Let it come.

This voice might not sound familiar, but it is true, and it's loud. It's telling him to let that metal slide long across his throat, like a grin, a twin, a smiling maw. Let that hot, hot blood paint down his chest and drip away. It's urging him to rejoin his brother. And repent. Repent.

The butterfly knife is again produced, closed and unthreatening. It's small enough to hide in a palm, but it's something irreplaceable. It's the last thread Reno has of his twin Vegas, other than what runs through his veins, and the expressions on his face, and the red in his hair.

They both look to the item between them.

"Would you die for it?" Tseng muses.

"I'd kill for it too," Reno swears.

Tseng extends his arm and offers the object.

Reno does not jump to take it.

"You need a vacation, man," he mutters, rubbing his throat. "I better not be bleeding…"

He retrieves the knife, trying not to show too much haste.

Tseng's smile is bitter.

"I just need peace," he says.

Reno gives him an indifferent shrug.

"I just need my guns. And a giant two ton sword."

Tseng eyes him, nothing of his impending intentions alluded.

"Gonna make me sweat for those too?" Reno prods, engaging his slithering smirk and lean. "Just admit you like seeing me helpless, man. I'll play along. I'll submit. I'll give you a messy blow job in the bathroom if that makes you feel any better. You can pull my hair. You can poke me with your knife. You can call me Vegas…"

"You're appalling, you know that?" Tseng berates, his body remaining rigid and his sterile voice cold. "I should make you sweat… until you couldn't anymore… but I'm afraid you'd enjoy it too much. I have better things to do besides."

"Really? Better than this?" Reno purrs. He curves his spine. "How about we have a few more drinks and then you take me up to your office? We can loosen you up, straighten you out. Get you realigned. Bend me over that awful desk of yours. Make me pay."

"Fuck you, Reno," Tseng returns.

Reno tilts away and sniffs.

"And here I thought you didn't wanna…"

.

.

.

Love and admiration. That's all anyone can ask for. That's all anyone really wants.

Cloud has nothing but bad feelings and burning buildings, and the smoking skeletal remains of what was love and admiration. It's his welcome image: a flicker, a flare, an outline, an understanding. Both his parents' house and Zack's house at once, overlaid, together, inflamed and crumbling.

Cloud knows the score and it still didn't feel real when he was watching it, the flames overwhelming and torturous, his choices reduced to struggles and strife. He still can't compute or absorb what was happening and he's watching it right now, stock footage.

It didn't feel real when he had peace, staring him right in the face. He didn't get the chance to understand, adore, or tire of it. It didn't last longer than a blink and yet he'll remember it to his final breath. He had love. He had admiration. He had a single moment, hot as ember, in a mass of moments, pure and clean, and all his, and it wasn't longer than a few days.

Dust. Just dust. Sand, grit, grain, ash, rubble. Even that's temporary. When they're all dead and gone, what will any of his memories of Zack matter? What will any of this have meant? What will he have proved? He wanted to be loved. He wanted to be brave. He never felt brave.

But, Zack never felt brave either. Don't get it wrong. Don't think bravery gives you armour. Don't think it wipes away the doubt, the fear, the hesitation, and the thumping pulse, and the desire to run. Oh, no. Don't misread. Zack was always fighting the desire to run. He was done by the time they got to Gongaga. He couldn't anymore. He wasn't ever brave. He never once felt brave. He just knew how to take a beating. He just stood longer than the rest.

Cloud still doesn't understand that. He doesn't understand Zack and his devotion. Even when he was being shown. Even when he was being told. His absence might only make it clearer.

I love you. I love you more. I love you most.

Admit it was real, and then come to terms with it being gone. Come to terms with mortality and morality, and knowing there's not going to be another shot. Come to terms with knowing Zack had to push the thought of him aside as he crawled bloody, gouged, and burning to his bedroom (and he really had to dig deep) otherwise he would have scrabbled out his front door and met him. He would have called out and dropped, and Cloud would have dashed over to hold and comfort him in his last moments. And then Zack would have gone off like a grenade in his face.

If the explosion was big enough to level a house, Cloud wouldn't have known what hit him until he woke up in whatever comes after. Reno would have left Gongaga numb and alone. Or died in the fallout. And that would have been an ending, one way or another. Flashy or not.

Love. Zack stayed away so he wouldn't hurt him. Them. He left him so nobody else could hurt him. He killed Sephiroth and tested Reno. He killed the Director and bested the threats. He thrashed and warred and made his important choices. Out of love.

He might have accepted death, and that he was loved too, but he couldn't accept leaving Cloud. After everything they had. After joy and wonder and faith restored. He couldn't, can't, and he won't. His duty might have been done, and he might have felt at ease, and calm, and clear in the end, but he didn't leave him. He swarmed to him. He rebelled. Bits of him are sticking to and filling Cloud. His presence, his memories. They'll make Cloud strong. Or they'll drive him down.

He can't rest after all. He can't fade away. And neither can Cloud. Not completely. Not entirely. Not when Zack's humming in his head. Not when he's smiling his classic smile, perfect, whole and clean, and as he was the day they met. He's young and unbruised, oozing with promise and hope, fire and fight. Unfamiliar with the taste of defeat and fear. Cocky. Steadfast. Beautiful.

The fire is erased. The flames are gone. There's nothing but blue sky spanning, smeared with white cloud and vaporous ether. Nothing but the morning sun bursting its glorious rays of translucent yellow-white around the breaks, blooming. The only thing blazing is the amber-red horizon. There are no burning houses or dark alleys. No visions of death and despair. There is calm and relief and Zack, the only physical presence. He is form and substance at his side. He is motion and matter revolving to face him. He is reaching out and moving closer.

Close enough to touch.

I'm gonna miss you.

"Don't go."

"I just got here," Reno mumbles.

Cloud recoils, sliding sideways across the bed.

"What a wonderful way to greet someone…" Reno whispers, giving off the scent of alcohol. "Especially someone who brought you gifts."

"Huh?" Cloud grumbles, rubbing the hair (the sleep, and the aroma) from out of his face.

Reno stands tall at the side of the bed. A thin shadow. A marker. A trembling course of actions and opinions and desires. A foreshadowing beacon of doom.

"Oh, you're too fucking cute…" he breathes.

Cloud blinks up at him.

"Sleepy head," Reno mutters, leaning down to override his line of sight.

"Did you… get the sword?" Cloud asks, squinting at the dim light, and the blurry face.

Reno sways and points behind him.

There the sword lies on the unused bed.

"Did you dream about me?" Reno purrs.

Cloud shakes his head, causing himself more problems than solving them. His head is airy and angry, and taking much too long to collect. He scoots up to sit, pressing his palm to his left eye, rubbing at the remaining film of fatigue.

"That's a shame…" Reno laments, drawing himself away and out of immediate range. "Get dressed and I'll show you what goodies I got."

As just more random acts of kindness, Reno brings in Cloud's clothing and shoes from the front room. He sets the shoes on the floor. The rest he lays on the bed next to him.

Cloud does not make comment. He only moves to cover himself. He gets so far as putting his socks and slacks on and then he's sitting back on the edge of the bed, and staring into space.

That's what it looks like to Reno anyway.

"Hey," Reno mutters.

He approaches to wave a hand at him.

"Anyone home?"

"The sword…" Cloud whispers.

"It's right there," Reno assures.

He even goes through the trouble of taking a look, and, nope, everything's normal.

"What about it?"

"It's blue," Cloud hisses.

"Blue?"

Reno looks again. He squints.

Nothing is amiss.

He is rather confused now.

Cloud, on the other hand, he is serious. He looks serious. He's seeing something different. He's not wrong, and he's not lying. He's positive. The sword is glowing a soft sky blue. It's radiating the shade down its entire length, pommel to point, lit from within. It's drawing him in.

He rises, half naked, and goes to it, passing right by Reno as he stands. Cloud crawls up onto the bed and beside the sword. He pulls it onto his lap. It teeters lengthwise over his thighs, hulking and warm.

Warm. It's warm to the touch.

"Feel it," Cloud urges.

"What?" Reno groans, but he's on his way.

"It's warm," Cloud insists, hand flat on the face of the blade.

Reno digs a knee into the mattress and leans to rest his hand below Cloud's.

The gleam seems to radiate through their fingers and the tops of their hands, red, white, and blue. Cloud is convinced.

Reno sees only their hands: a contrast of sizes, big and small. And he rather likes it.

"I guess," he offers, pulling away. "Feels like a sword. Looks like a sword. What's your point?"

Cloud stares on, entranced. He doesn't speak or move an inch. He stays planted, like some kind of human monument of an atrocity. He's blank faced, on his knees, sword over his lap.

"I dunno…" he finally mumbles.

Reno shrugs.

"I honestly see nothing," he stresses, really trying to be helpful.

Cloud straightens up to look on him, his wide and wild eyes glisten and accuse.

"You better not be fucking with me," he grits out.

Reno laughs and retreats.

"Hah! You're fucking with me, man! I don't see shit. I promise you. I can see blue just fine too. Even if I've been drinking. Now finish getting dressed and quit screwing around."

Cloud regards the weapon, expression void.

Reno stands by, calm expression slipping.

Cloud does not go on. He doesn't ramble or complain, insist or faint. He shifts the BDS aside. He doesn't stand tall on the mattress and lift it up to bring down righteously on Reno, no. He scoots away and gets to his feet, leaving the terrible object to rest.

He plucks his button down shirt from off his bed and slips his arms inside the fabric. Leaving the garment undone, he moves to his shoes next, retaking his seat on the bed's edge to do so.

Reno can now exhale.

"You really keep me guessing, man," he sighs.

"It wouldn't be fun otherwise," Cloud replies, borrowing Reno's words.

Reno likes the snark and sass, but it's getting to him too. He remains quiet until Cloud comes to rest, fully dressed. He hangs around and waits. He stays away from thinking and wondering.

"Here," Reno says, coming up to him at last.

He hands Cloud a small something, cold and weighted.

Cloud doesn't comprehend at first. He accepts it willingly, caught off guard. He rolls the object in his fingers and then holds it up in front of his nose for a closer look.

It's a brushed steel windproof lighter.

It strikes him two ways.

One: this is a thoughtful gift. Reno noticed he was having trouble with the plastic disposable, so he got him something more permanent. He went out of his way to find him something useful.

Two: it's just like Zack's. The one he used to light his cigarettes with way back when. The one they lost when Sephiroth and Shinra intercepted him. It's just another reminder.

He molds a fist around it and looks away.

"Thanks," Cloud murmurs.

"They don't come filled like that, by the way," Reno says. "I did it for you already, so… you're good to go. I will have to carry around the fuel though, which is a medium sized container of something incredibly volatile. You know, adds to the whole excitement value... I guess. Annnd... that's not all."

He drops a small package onto his lap.

Cloud picks it up, his disposition not improving.

"Cigarettes," he mumbles.

"You were getting low," Reno explains.

Cloud hangs his head and bunches his aching shoulders. He's being torn in two. He doesn't need this. He can't handle this. It's reminding him too much of what he's missing and needing. What he's trying so hard to forget but only fumbling around.

It's not that he wants to forget. He can't forget, and he won't. But, he can't think about it either, or he'll fold in on himself. He'll freeze. He'll drop. He'll unravel. No matter how it hurts, and how he's pushed, and how he keeps finding himself entertaining the idea, he can't turn to Reno either. He can't bend for him, rush to him, cry out for him. Not completely. Not like he needs. He can't. He won't. For the sake of his withered heart and his jumbled memories.

He is torn.

"You jerk," he mutters.

"Knew you'd like 'em," Reno chimes.

He stands and spins away.

"What did Tseng say?" Cloud opts, putting the items aside and out of sight.

"No hard feelings," Reno summarizes.

He stretches and reaches back for his pink comb, skimming it over his head and through his neat hair. A habit out of anxiety, rather than function. He preens and preens, burying the truth.

"Can we go now?" Cloud asks.

"Oh," Reno crows, his grin at full intensity. "I like this. I like you all pushy but asking permission."

He tucks the comb away and plants his hands on his cocked hips. He is so theatrical, and always more than willing to pick a fight, and jab and prod and pick.

"It's definitely nicer than pushy and spewing insults, or nothing at all. I dig it. Push me around, buddy. Throw me around. I can take it. Just stay away from the self diagnosing, and the… knives, and the fucked up theories, okay?"

"Don't like it too much…" Cloud grumbles. "Probably won't last long…"

"Oh, come on. Don't go crushing my hopes and dreams or anything… We just got over this."

Cloud sneers.

They're not good.

But, they're good enough.

They're going to be dead if Reno doesn't stall them. He's sure of it. He knows what's coming. If they leave the Saucer… they're in trouble. Big trouble. He has to hang on as long as he can. He's got to press his luck, rile him up, sink well beyond good enough, and play for time. All just to keep him here, hold him back, and delay having to admit they're fucked.

And everything was going so well...

"We can go, but tell me this first… You feelin' better?" he asks, setting the bait.

"I've been… worse," Cloud grumbles, following the lead.

"Any bad dreams you wanna tell me about?"

"I don't… remember any…" Cloud admits, restlessly working his hands.

Reno nods.

"Good."

He waits a beat. He slides his eyes away in careful avoidance. He's not going to enjoy this.

They're just standing here, spread out, two black suits in a hotel room, suspended in that forgotten time between rest and action. Reno has every option to leave on good terms and let them skip into disaster. He has every option to shit on everything and tell him the truth.

"By the way, there's a four year gap... Between you leaving home… and Shinra. I didn't notice it until now. Thought your dad or Shinra was the issue... But you told us those too easily. So… What happened? Before. In that period of time. I'm curious."

Reno slides his eyes back up and regards Cloud sideways, head tilted. He's expecting annoyance, an excuse, or a lie. He's not seeing the signs. Cloud just stands there.

"I was fucked," he answers.

Reno's searching look turns steely. He corrects his tilted head.

"For… the short answer," Cloud mutters.

"What's the long one?" Reno presses.

Oh, he hates himself. At least he's not sober.

Cloud clears his throat, looks down to their feet, and resettles his weight.

"I didn't have anyone to watch my back like you did. I got… swept up and paraded around. A fucking summer flower bending under a fucking downpour. A daisy. I was alone. And helpless."

"Shit," Reno breathes.

Cloud doesn't allow him the time to recover. He charges on and gives him exactly what he asked for.

"I left Nibelheim and hit the road. I didn't look back. I didn't ask for help. I took the trails and closed routes. I didn't stay in one place for too long. I figured that would keep me safe, right? I was even smaller then too. But… sneaking around didn't help me for long. Some group found me one night… walking between villages. Some fucked up gang. I was so hungry and tired. I was… lured into their camp… and they tied me up… I was fucked. And then I was primped and polished, and made to look nice. They sold me off. I was passed around, bought and sold. Twice. I was a prisoner. Until… I got away. And that was… just the first half… of the first year. For a year and a half after… I didn't dare go outside. I stayed in hiding. And then I… I guess… I just got used to it."

"Fuck, Cloud… I'm..."

Reno's all sudden action. He's reaching out for him, closing their small gap and collecting him in his arms. He needs to hold him and be positive he's whole. He needs to comfort him and rub away the old pain. He can't imagine his scars. He can't imagine his trials.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he rambles. "I'm sorry, man. Your life has been so fucking rough. You haven't gotten a single break, have you? Shit. You fucking pitiful thing. You poor guy. I'm sorry. I'm... Fuck, fuck, fuck. How can you still be so… How are you still so…"

Pure.

Cloud gets the hint. He has an idea. He has the steely look now. Even as Reno holds him close and accepts him, his arms warm around him. He's doing his job well. His embrace is just tight enough. His gentle swaying is calming. But, Cloud can't humour him. He can't.

"I don't… I'm not…" he musters, trying to pull away.

"Fucking relax," Reno rumbles, keeping his arms locked.

"Reno…" Cloud groans.

"Relax. Let me fucking process this…" he insists.

Cloud does not. He rears and peels himself away.

Reno relents but stays close. His expression is not that of pleasure. It's downright livid.

"How old were you?" he interrogates. "Fuck. Where did this happen? Could you remember their faces if you saw one? I'll kill 'em. I'll fucking kill 'em. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"It's over. It happened… seven years ago."

Reno gapes.

"Fuck! Like that matters? It's ridiculous it happened at all! I feel so shitty… I've been nothing but… Fuck. What an asshole. I never thought… You seemed so innocent… Fuck. I'll kill every last one of 'em. Every last one. I swear. Tell me where it happened. Is it close?"

"It's over and done," Cloud hisses, looking aside.

"For fuck's sake, Cloud. I fucking… I sold you off. Just like they did. I just… And you didn't say a thing. I thought I might have been expanding your horizons at least… A little danger… a little intrigue. But, I've only been giving you more reason to hate my guts."

"That's… not true," Cloud argues, but he's all out of force and fire.

"You're a liar. You're a fucking minx and a bad liar, man. I thought it was just little stuff… but it's not. You've been holding back a real doozie. I can't believe this. No wonder you didn't wanna talk to me. You really are too good to be true. You're a brute. And amazing. And I'm…"

"You're the best I got," Cloud interrupts.

Reno sneers.

"The best out of what? No one. There aren't many options anymore. I don't feel good about that. I don't feel proud. I don't feel smart. I don't feel forgiven."

"That's not my fault," Cloud sighs, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh no?"

"I forgive you," Cloud declares, looking him straight on.

Reno stands firm.

"For what?"

"Shouldn't you be telling me that?" Cloud presses.

Reno pops. He blurts it all out.

"Forgive me for the shower, the black eye, the deal. For Zack, and bitching, and talking always. Forgive me for NCB2, and the stage, and the kiss, and the past. And for flirting with you, and not believing you, and for loving you. Forget everything. Forgive everything. Please. Pl—"

"I told you. I forgive you, Reno. I do," Cloud assures, holding the trembling gaze.

Just a couple of blinks. And then they both look away. That could be the end of that, that should be, that would be, because Reno can't torture Cloud much longer, but this is also Reno we're talking about, and he has every intention of keeping them out of Shinra's hands. He's going to twist the knife further. He's going to press and dig deeper. He needs more time.

"You forgive me, you need me, but you don't respect me, admire me, or hardly care about me… and you sure as shit don't love me. I wanna… know everything about you. I wanna make your life easier... I want you to come and cry on my shoulder. I want you to feel safe. Like you don't have to cower or hide… and clutch to bad memories. I've only been able to think about you. And I've never thought about anyone this long in my entire awful existence."

"Reno…"

"I love you."

Cloud groans, pained by the words. He sulks into misery.

"Don't…"

"I love you."

Cloud's face shifts and pulls, agonized. He glances away and takes a step in reverse.

"Again?" Reno prods.

They're just two suits in a hotel room. Two suits tangling for sense. And time.

"I love you, Cloud," Reno announces.

"Stop it. Stop saying that!" Cloud howls. He backtracks further, retreating, running away, shaking his head, no no no. "Why do you always have to make things so difficult?"

Reno holds his ground, finding he is surprisingly calm.

"Because I'm not gonna die without having tried. I'm gonna live. I'm gonna fight."

Cloud shudders and shakes, badly containing his imminent outburst.

Reno is unmoved. He remains. He crosses his arms.

"I don't deserve it," Cloud moans. "I don't deserve your love. I didn't deserve Zack's. And I can't… love you both either," Cloud huffs, defeated, relaxing inside the revelation.

"And why not?" Reno counters. "You're a big boy."

"I can't… forget about him…"

"I'm not asking you to, man."

And Reno isn't. He's just asking for his fair shot. He just wants his equal opportunity.

"I just… want him back," Cloud groans, offering his hands, emphasizing their emptiness.

"I know. And that's okay," Reno assures.

"But you're… making me…"

Utter, miserable defeat. Cloud shrugs and curls in around himself.

Reno tilts his head. His fingers dig into his own biceps, betraying his calm.

"Making you?"

Cloud musters and manages. He nods, his wild hair falling over his eyes.

"You're all I've got," he moans, just two moist lips now. "And I don't deserve it."

Reno drops his arms to his sides.

"You know, I appreciate the thought… but, I really wish you didn't make it sound like such a... punishment. At least try to make it seem like you had some part in it."

"I did. I do. I'm still here, aren't I?" Cloud claims.

"Do you really have a choice?"

"Are you saying... I'm your prisoner?"

"Prisoner? No. But do you really think I wouldn't follow you?"

"Shouldn't you be going back to NCB2 anyway?" Cloud sniffs.

"Shouldn't you be fainting about now?" Reno snaps.

Cloud scoffs and bristles.

"I'm not as frail as I used to be…"

He's putting up a good enough fight. But, Reno… he's a natural. And a stone cold killer.

"Oh, yeah? Because of your hitchhiker? If he really is in there... how come he's not beating my ass crooked for, you know… fucking you?" Reno asks, pointing to Cloud's blond head. "He told me to not even think about you, let alone touch you. I got well beyond that."

"You haven't given him a reason to be jealous..."

"Bullshit," Reno growls, slightly thrown.

"He isn't threatened by you," Cloud explains, glancing aside.

Reno laughs, humourless and short.

"Yeah, okay. That sounds about right..."

"He knows I'll always… love him... the most," Cloud stammers. "He knows that because I know that. And I know that... because he knows that… And I know he… just wants me... to be happy."

Reno bounces on his heels.

"Okay, there. Hah! That's good sense. He had some good points sometimes, man. That's what I've been saying. So just... listen to him. Just… be happy. Just let it be what it is. Stop… knowing he's dead but jumping at the thought he might… come back. That's not gonna work. Trust me."

"I should just…" Cloud breathes, eyes gone distant. "...give up hope?"

Reno winces.

"No," he answers.

He lifts his right hand, the less offensive one, and finds Cloud, directing his head to bring their eyes into alignment. He peers on, fingers curled under his chin, eyes intense and challenging, trying to make an impression, trying to collect his full attention.

"Just give up... the responsibility," he asserts. "You didn't kill him, Cloud. You say he wants you to be happy, right? Sounds like… he wants you to move on. It also sounds like... I will admit… that he didn't leave you either. Don't punish yourself. Stop punishing yourself. Let yourself… breathe."

"He shouldn't have…"

"Don't go there, man," Reno warns, brow creasing.

"He was—"

Cloud closes his eyes and shivers, rearing his chin away from Reno's reach.

"Cloud."

Now come the tears.

Reno doesn't look away. He wants to, oh, he wants to, but he stays true. He watches every single second, start to finish. He's the culprit. It wouldn't be a job well done if someone didn't cry, after all.

"He shouldn't have…" Cloud snivels, "he shouldn't have… died... alone…"

It doesn't sit well in Reno's guts, or his chest, or his throat. It's acidic and vile.

"I know, man," he returns.

Cloud does not improve. He descends. He slips and stutters and crumbles. Section by section, foot by foot, he folds and falls. He's crying and shaking and scrubbing at his face. Trying to stop the reaction. Trying to fight off the tears, angrily, uneasily, and only making them worse.

Reno is stiff and dumb on the sidelines. He's still kinda drunk and still kinda distant. He's absorbing the scene slower than normal and from rather far away. He witnesses Cloud sink to his knees, and it's déjà vu, and no less difficult to watch. Reno is being chipped away.

He finally goes to him.

Cloud moved some distance back in his agony, so it's not a simple task. Reno has to work fast or he might catch onto his intentions and flip. He might just shut him out again. He might just go the extra mile and get violent.

He reaches him without contest, his steps long and sure. Four strides gone and Reno sinks to his knees at the very end. The results are positive so far, even as they're terrible. The damage is done, and all the closer, but Cloud's within reach. He brings his arms around and pulls him into a snug squeeze.

Cloud comes easily. He gulps and whines, muttering, grumbling, groaning against him. He hides his face in his chest. He doesn't fight or explode.

Reno listens and he hums and he grips. He holds on and strokes his back. He pets and presses until Cloud lets out all he has, whimpered and wet. He braces him through it as he strains and seizes, held dear against his frame, nice and tight.

Cloud quiets and calms after a good jag. His breathing relents from hyperventilation and moves on into gasps and hitches, proceeding from there into huffs and sniffs.

They're still just two black suits in a hotel room, on the floor between two beds, embraced and connected, stuck in a critical moment.

Reno's heart is thumping.

Cloud hasn't made too distressing a sound in minutes.

Reno leans back enough to bring his face into view.

His cheeks are wet with tears. His eyes are lidded and tired. His jaw is clenched solid when it's not chattering. Reno knows this because it's there for him to see. Cloud isn't hiding anything. He's looking at him dead on, offering him the whole awful image, censoring nothing.

If Reno had told him about Shinra, they wouldn't be here. He wouldn't be soothing his fears. He wouldn't be the hero, the protector, the strong shoulder. Cloud wouldn't be hollow and weak and totally out of shape in front of him.

The real fear Reno has… It's not about being captured, or tortured, or held responsible. It's not exactly about Cloud being torn away from him by bad men in uniform, no (but that is one of them). It's about Cloud getting it into his crazy little head that he wants to walk right out there and meet Shinra, because he wants revenge, and he wants death, and he would surely find both.

Reno will hold him here as long as he has to. He needs to come up with a real plan. He needs to decide whether or not telling him really would be a better idea (or even an option at this point), because he's lying right now. It's bitter, bitter bile in his black guts.

Cloud sniffles and clears his throat.

Reno has a choice to make.

He looks down on Cloud's abused face and runs into the same problem he always does.

Cloud is lovely.

Beaten and dragged out. Gutted and shredded. Smashed and tossed. He's still lovely. And he's really been through the ringer this time. This Cloud, the closest Reno might ever get to the real Cloud, is twice as fragile and twice as terrifying. Reno wants nothing more than to defend him.

"Please let me help you," he whispers.

That look, that face, those lips. The nearness, the smell, the connotations.

Reno leans in and tastes salt.

It's not an immediate thing. Before any sparks and flashes, wetness, warmth, and tasting, Reno has to move his head down, and their lips connect soft and subtle. It's sweet and tender. There is no overwhelming rush or urge. No blind lust and gushing fluids. It's pleasant and sultry in their collective bellies. The sensitive flesh tells him Cloud's lips are dry. It tells him he deserves more.

Reno just wanted some relief. After Tseng, after the news. The gentle kiss is short, because all too soon, and none too surprising, it's getting hot and liquid. Reno's tongue emerges and those dry lips are licked until they gasp and part. Cloud allows him entry. And, oh, does he taste good. He tastes smoky and real. His tongue is steady and receptive. His breath is molten. His flesh is clammy.

Reno pours into him, forcing his blond head back, deepening the depths and lengthening their reach. He slides his tongue inside and back as far as it will go. He lifts his hands to his hair, roaming and pulling. Their teeth click, lips stretch. Cloud hums, groans, and endures the treatment, returns the treatment, and then he turns aside, and the spell is broken.

Heavy breathing. Nothing beyond heavy breathing. Reno does not push it. He doesn't try to achieve anything or force an end. But, he does leave his hands put to pet, ruffle, and enjoy feathery gold hair while they can.

It doesn't last. The intimacy ends. Cloud wiggles and extricates himself, rising to his full height. He turns to stand over his bed.

Reno watches from the floor as he lights a cigarette.

He falters but stays quiet. He sure as shit won't stop him. He won't tell him about Shinra either. He'll hope they can slip by as quickly as possible and be off anyone's radar by the time the resort starts to stir and swell and breathe. They're right by the elevators and the desert edge. They can do it. That's his plan. That's the best he's got… Cut and run.

Cloud sits himself on his bed and smokes one of his new cigarettes. Reno rises and slumps onto the opposite bed, the sword at his back, and watches him smoke it.

"These are awful," Cloud complains.

Reno doesn't say a word just yet. He doesn't repeat what he said earlier about him not being able to smoke in here. He knows that as soon as Cloud's done with that smelly fucking thing... they're leaving. That's it. They're headed off, and this moment will be done. So, he lets him smoke.

"They're lights," Reno mumbles.

Cloud shrugs his shoulders.

Reno can't give up just yet. He stretches and groans.

"You sure you don't wanna stay longer?" he asks.

He's all out of options. The direct route it is.

"Why not stay a few days, huh? We have this room… and we have all this money… We have nice suits and our youth… We could hang out and raise hell and really enjoy ourselves. What's the rush? Lemme take you on a date."

"I'm leaving. Whether you follow or not," Cloud utters.

.

.

.

They pack up and make to depart room 505, and the resort, and the giant golden tower. The first place they could almost call a safe place in a long time, and now they're leaving it. Whether half of them want to or not. They won't be leaving it empty-handed though.

Reno, being Reno (and also being annoyed, and wronged, and wrong enough on his own), he takes it upon himself to go through the place and take anything that strikes his fancy.

He empties the potion bar. He takes all the little shampoos and grooming tools, and several clean towels. He grabs whatever might come in handy later. And some that won't.

Cloud, again, takes up only the sword and his cigarettes, and presently, the windproof lighter. He doesn't bother with a rucksack.

They're tracking back through the monotonous cardinal red hallway one last time. It's quiet and well guarded, and it doesn't feel right to Reno. It takes no time at all to reach the main lifts.

Speaking of time, Cloud doesn't know what time it is. He doesn't have a clue.

The last glance Reno took at the clock said it was too early to be this conscious.

They're both displaced.

They call the elevator and step aboard. The way down is slow and wordless.

Cloud has the chance to note just how heavy the BDS still is.

Reno has the chance to note just how tiny Cloud still is next to it.

They get back to entrance level below. It's simple. It's no big to-do. It happens just like that. Conveniently, the main pillar lift connects directly to their VIP rooms, which connects directly to the tiki torch resort, and the free world on the outside.

The sun is thin and spreading yellow in the wide, colourless sky once they step off the elevator and out into the open. Mist drifts on the morning air. Few people are present. The lush resort is calm. The tension is high. It all feels too easy. Everything is going smoothly. Too smoothly.

They push ahead. They don't see anything or anyone unusual. They don't spot a huge amount of Shinra activity, just your typical foot soldiers and resort guards. There are no signs of Tseng or Vause. They might just slip by unnoticed.

Reno is on edge. He's the one feeling all the stress. He decided against telling Cloud. He figured, well, the less Cloud had to think about the better, right?

He's not yet regretting that decision.

Nothing has been spoken, nothing needs to be said. They're on their way to the next stage, moving ahead as planned, foot by foot, passing small crowds and lines, tables and umbrellas, almost to the border of the resort grounds. Almost clear.

It's looking good. It's looking hopeful.

"Not so... fast," Cloud huffs distantly.

Reno comes to a halt.

His desire to get out of sight and put as much distance between them and here (and any Shinra associates), as soon as possible, has left Cloud and his giant symbol in the dust. He isn't next to Reno anymore. He isn't close at hand. He has dropped behind.

Reno backtracks the few steps to reach him.

Cloud is standing transfixed on the paved and railed path when he reaches him. Here he is, still and striking, hair damp and sticking, surrounded by lush greenery and flowers, the sword loose at his side. He's peering at a crowd behind them, a dumb look firm in place on his pale face, ethereal and ignorant.

"Hey," Reno voices.

Cloud's intense gaze is locked and searching.

Reno looks with him, alarmed and abuzz, hoping not to find what he expects to find there, and he doesn't. He sees nothing but a string of random people waiting in line. Nothing scary.

"Hey," he tries again, getting physical.

He nudges at Cloud's limp arm.

Cloud does not react. Not at first. He's seeing the crowd, the line, the random faces, but that's not what he's locked on. It's something else. Something specific is holding his attention. Something within the group, remembered, wanted, needed, desired. Not a something either, but a someone.

Cloud's on his way in a flash, a burst. He's barreling forward and leaving Reno.

He saw him. He caught a glimpse. The back of his head, the fall of his jet black hair, the curve of his broad shoulders. He knows it was him. It must be him. It could only be him, because he's slipping away again. He's turning to leave. He's melting into the crowd. He's gone.

Cloud rushes forward, gripping the sword, dragging it along, ready to call out, and forget everything he and Reno just talked about. But, he is abruptly stopped. He sprints ahead blindly only to be bounced backwards and brought still. He settles and stares on, baffled.

He is confronted by a body in uniform.

A crisp Shinra uniform.

"Cloud Strife?" the uniform asks.

Cloud gathers himself and tries to push by.

He has to get to him. He has to hurry.

"Let me by," he demands.

"Cloud Strife?" the uniform repeats, blocking the way and stepping all the closer.

"Get out of my—"

Cloud is knocked back, the soldier needing only to swing out his arm and he topples. The sword drops. And Cloud does too.

He crashes onto his rear end, meeting with solid pavement. As he sits now, looking up, sprawled on his ass, he can see the problem for what it really is.

There isn't just one uniform. There are many uniforms.

Shinra soldiers have intercepted them at last.

Cloud is at the center of a ring of faces.

"On your feet," the most talkative orders.

Cloud obeys.

Thoughts of Reno come to his reeling mind, and then it's all Zack, all the time.

He was there. He was watching from the crowd. Zack was right there. He might have been another ghost, or a hallucination, or a doppelganger. He might have just been taunting him. He might have just been taunting himself. But, Cloud won't know unless he can reach him. He has to know. He has to follow. He has to get by and find out. He still has hope. He still has faith. He'll take a ghost, an apparition, a lie. They're in his way. They're holding him back.

He has to fight.

He's willing to fight.

Cloud collects himself, and the sword.

He has no delusions or regrets.

He is seeing red.

.

.

.

.