I push myself upright with my legs, biting my tongue to keep from screaming as my off-balance assent smashes my left shoulder against the wall. The impact jars my bullet-pierced shoulder, but even though it causes me pain I continue to lean on it. The pain helps me focus my slowly adjusting eyes and I blink around the dark, unlit room. Everything is hazy with the depthless perception of blind eyes, but I can at least make a small attempt at gathering my surroundings. I can't see or hear anything else in the room, but part of that might be because of the torrential noise going on outside the door at my back. Whoever came to rescue Elena and I is giving as much hell as they're getting, a sure sign that Tseng and Rude brought Soldier reinforcements. Usually I'd say I hate the under-trained meat-shields at Soldier, but they're helping the Turks save my ass so I can't find it in my desperate-to-survive heart to be upset with them. I may have to stop putting liquid laxatives in the Soldier floor water-tank for awhile once this is over.

I force myself to stand without support of the wall and shakily make my way to the door, not sure how I plan on opening it. I doubt Rieldes locked it, I can't exactly use my hands to turn the knob, but there's always the chance that he did. I can feel my shirt getting soaked with blood and I frown as I realize that the haziness in my eyes might be linked to more than a lack of light. Blood is practically pouring down my right arm; I can hear it dripping from the ends of my shaking fingertips. My left arm isn't much drier, but I can at least twitch my fingers enough on my own terms to curl my hand into a weak fist. My right arm won't budge at all; the bullets smashed through tendons, along with bone and quite a few veins and maybe even an artery. The artery would explain all the blood pouring onto the floor; I'm practically a walking fountain. I don't know how much longer I'll be walking though; the pain shaking my arms is making the rest of my body shiver and jerk in an almost electric fashion. It's as if I grabbed the business end of my EMR and was too stupid to let go. I've done that before, but I was drunk so that makes it kind of okay. Regardless of what is causing the shaking and jerking and gut-wrenching urge to vomit, I need to figure out how to get my ass out of here.

I run my left hand over the wall by walking, pressing it up against the cold poorly-wallpapered surface. I'm too incapacitated by pain to move my shoulder enough to run my hand across the wall the normal way. I wish Rieldes hadn't shot me; I really do. Bullet wounds are a pain in the ass, especially when they're in prime movement areas. I manage to find the doorknob and kneel down, wrapping my mouth around it and doing my best to turn it. I can't make my arm flex enough to reach it by hand. The knob refuses to turn past a certain point and as I let go I kick at the door in my frustration, adding a stubbed toe to the list of complaints my body is filing against me.

The noise outside is getting louder, frantic screams and shouts of triumph and agony are piercing through the walls around me. Death must be in hog heaven. I get the feeling that Tseng has ordered the Turks or Soldiers he brought with him to kill anything that doesn't resemble Elena or me; it's more efficient to kill anything that isn't the target you're searching for and Tseng is all about efficiency. Kiya is probably dead by now, most of the other girls were probably holed up in their rooms but she was in the hall, trying to get someone to help me. I hope I'm wrong and that she's alive and curled up safe under her bed, but I get the feeling that my hopes are worthless. She would have run towards the strangers firing bullets, thinking they were sent to help save all the girls, but she would have been shot down the same as any of the remorseless men who had charged at them with her.

Hoping has never done me any good, but if hope was dope I'd be high right now. I'm hoping that Elena will be found and that I won't bleed to death before someone finds me. I'm hoping that Kiya didn't die and that Rude and Tseng don't get shot in the rescue attempt. Hell, I'm hoping I don't get shot again during the rescue attempt. Bullets are starting to shove their stubborn way through the walls and into my prison and although none of them have hit me yet, I feel the distinct need to edge away from the paper-thin barrier keeping me from being in the middle of the fray. Even though the door is my only hope of getting out of here, I find myself edging away from it as the bullets start piercing closer to where I am. I give the door one last kick and then back away from it, waiting for one lucky bullet to find the doorknob and blast the door open. It's a long shot, but if someone misses in just the right direction, I'll be free. Free to do what? I've got no idea, I can't exactly help the others fight in the condition I'm in, but I'll at least be able to see. Gods I want to see; flying blind is never comforting.

It feels like this waiting thing is taking forever, but part of that might be my lack of patience and my sense of time is ruined by my panicking. Every drop of blood that drips off my fingertips seems to drop off faster than the last, making me worry more and more that I'll run out of my precious fluids before someone can find me to help plug up the holes I'm leaking from. I'm sitting in a corner as close to the door as I dare to get, watching bullets tear the wall asunder and leave the door intact. Someone needs to work on having a poorer shot, I'm sick of waiting for this damned door to open. I'm so sick of waiting. I'm running out of blood. I need to get the hell out of here. I'm getting dizzy as fluid rushes out of my system and the small pricks of light shinning through the wall in front of me are proof to my disorientation as they swim and dance before my eyes. The plus side to the lack of blood in my system is that my body is now so worried about dying that it's stopped fretting over the pain and is now trying not to let my major organs fail. The bad side of this is that I'm fucking dying and can't do shit about it. I don't have the ability to use my hands to bandage up my leaking wounds and I can't apply pressure to stop the bleeding. I can only sit and worry and wait for natural clotting to take place, and I'm so sick of waiting.

Finally, after what seems like eons of waiting and struggling to keep my eyes open, someone gets enough brains to shoot the doorknob apart and shove the door open. I've never been so happy to see shrapnel as bits of doorknob go flying in every direction. A large, foggy, barely recognizable form rushes through the doorway flanked by others and I nearly cry with joy. Finally, someone found me. This someone doesn't seem intent on killing me either, the first thing the someone does is let a flash of green, wonderful, glorious, marvelous healing materia get put to good use on my arms.

Unfortunately for me, this someone doesn't know enough about healing to realize that my right arm really needs to be put back in its proper position before it gets healed up. As my eyes focus and I manage to look at my healed arm, I realize that my elbow is now pointing backwards. My, my, my, how disgustingly awesome this sight is. The doctors back at Shinra are going to have a field day when they see this. I hope a nurse faints; I get such a giggle out of fainting nurses.

I look up at my woefully un-medical rescuer and grin cockily as the face puts itself together. "Damn, Rude, you took your sweet time."

Rude snorts and looks at my arm, trying to figure out what he did wrong. "Had to search every room from the entrance to here. You're a real handful, ya know?" The two people that followed him in are standing guard by the door, their guns pointed outside. Hopefully that's a sign that Tseng has decided not to kill me, but I like I said, hopefully doesn't mean jack shit when I'm involved.

"Sir, we need to get him out of here. We still have to locate and secure the other target." One of the nameless people by the door sounds a little huffy and rule-bound to me. Can't he let me revel in my relief for a moment or two?

Rude nods and slings me over his shoulder unceremoniously, a sure sign that he's no longer worried about the fucked up job he did on my arm. I want to tell him that I can still walk, that my legs aren't broken and that being carted around like a cripple isn't something I want right now, but he's rescuing me so he gets to make the rules. I'm just going to shut my trap and let him work. "Lead the way."

I wish I could see where we are going, because the gunshot noises in front of me aren't very comforting. I know better than to distract Rude when he's focused though, it usually gets me a whack upside the head. I keep my mouth shut and drape over his shoulder like an ornamental sack of potatoes; a very red sack of potatoes. Now that I can see my arms in the light, the urge to vomit is very strong. Blood is caked over my arms and I wasn't even aware I was able to bleed so much without dying. I'm actually pretty sure I'm not able to bleed so much without dying. Death must have been so busy with his smorgasbord that he didn't notice I was supposed to join his festivities. I am one lucky son-of-a-bitch.

I look away from my mangled arms as corpses catch my eye, their glassy eyes and gaping mouths looking as disgusted as I feel. Death must be having the time of his afterlife because there are dozens of dead bodies lying around and people are still killing each other. Hopefully Death is only feasting on the enemy, but I'm pretty sure plenty of my allies are on his high-piled platter. Death has a knack for finding my friends first and my enemies later.

I wish I could plug my ears right now; machine guns are fucking loud. Rude is thankfully smart enough to let the two lackeys that are with us go ahead of him to draw fire from the scared-shitless gunner. Unfortunately for the lackeys, that means they've got to be meat shields for us. I'm so glad I'm not a lackey. It sounds like they tried to shoot back, but they were obviously caught off guard by the hundreds of bullets peppering through their skin. They really should have looked before they leapt, but it's a little late for that now. The guy is still shooting and screaming even though Rude and I haven't rounded the corner so I'm pretty sure the lackeys are dead and being torn apart by bullets. Poor, poor lackeys; we'll have to send them home in a matchbox. There's not going to me much left of them. I don't' even know why they ran into machine-gun fire; seems like they were begging for death to me.

Rude sets me on the ground and I sit where I'm put; I don't feel like trying to do anything heroic right now, I'm done for the day in that regard. I'll leave the heroics to Rude. I look up at him and wipe my hands off on the fairly clean shirt of the dead guy sitting next to me. "So are we waiting for him to run out of bullets or what?" It's hard to clean off my right arm when it's backwards, but I do what I can. I may ask the doctors if I can keep my arm this way for awhile, I can finally reach that itchy-spot on my back that has eluded my scratching fingers for years. Ah, sweet relief.

Rude watches me scratch my back with a look of disgust and then abruptly looks away without answering my question. The gross-factor of this backwards arm is making me like it more and more. I rarely get to see Rude's face turn that shade of green. I watch him intently as he starts edging towards the corner; I'm pretty sure he's nuts and I tell him so. What else are friends for if not to tell you you're being an idiot and you're going to get yourself killed? "Rude, you stick your head around the corner and you'll lose it! Think it through pal."

Rude rolls his eyes and takes off his watch, confusing the shit out of me. I decide to stay quiet and let him work since he is the only one of us working at the moment. I watch as Rude slips his watch around the edge of the hall and I stare at the image reflected in the watch's glass face. The kid holding the gun can't be much older than eighteen and it looks like he's already shit his pants. He's probably already pissed them too, unless the dark stain down his leg is blood. It wouldn't surprise me if the stupid bastard shot himself; he probably knows nothing about ricochet. As the second hand ticks around the face of Rude's watch in a steady, well rehearsed fashion, I watch this kid waste dozens of bullets trying to re-kill dead people. He's tearing up the already mangled bodies around him and I realize that he's shooting both his enemies and his comrades; not all of the corpses are in a uniform I recognize. This poor bastard probably went insane in the middle of the battle and now he's shooting just to shoot. I guess it makes him feel better or something. I just want him to get his finger off the damn trigger. Machine-guns are too loud.

Rude doesn't care for wasted bullets. If we only have one gun between the two of us, he's always the one who gets it. I can't aim for shit and Rude is one of the best shots I've ever seen. He could have been a Soldier sniper if he wanted to be, in fact I think that's what he was being trained for before the Turks, but I'm damn glad he got dragged into our department. As this kid shoots and screams, I watch Rude aim the barrel of his gun around the corner. He doesn't stick the whole gun out, just the very end of the barrel, and he doesn't even bother double checking his aim by looking around the corner. I don't blame him for that either, if he sticks his shiny dome around the corner he'll have it blown off. I watch in fascination from the floor, still scratching that relieving spot on my back with my mangled, fucked-up arm, as Rude takes careful aim and shoots the kid through the eye.

The kid goes down like a sack of rocks and the bullets stop flying. The one shot kill must be Rude's way of saying, 'stop wasting bullets you fuck-tart', and I think he got his message across very well. I know I just about shit myself when the kid's eye exploded, but the watch doesn't seem to care that about what it had been used to do as I stare at it with my mouth gaping open unattractively. It keeps ticking happily, completely oblivious to my horror. Rude lowers his watch arm and looks around the corner hesitantly, gun hand still raised. Apparently there's nothing out there because he turns around and slips his watch back on before he picks me back up, hefting me over his shoulder. He starts running and I do what I can to keep my head from bouncing off his back as I get jostled around. I don't like being carried around; it's kind of inconvenient.

Rude sets me in the back of a truck and someone starts mopping the blood off my arms, not caring to be gentle with me. Someone needs to train these field nurses to soften their touch on the potentially seriously injured. "Where's Elena, Reno?"

"Go back to the room you found me in and go left, then straight back. Elena's in a room with double-doors. Get your ass in gear!" I growl at him, wishing I had told him when he rescued me. I want to see Rieldes' face when Rude kills him, but I'll just have to settle for what my imagination can conjure up.

Rude nods and runs back into the building with a new group of meat shields, the shields will probably get killed, but I don't really care about them. They're serving their purpose and if they live, they'll probably get a raise. Tseng's pretty good about giving raises to people who deserve them and the few meat-shield Soldier infantrymen who manage to last through tonight will definitely deserve a pay raise.

This stupid field nurse is trying to shove my arm back into its proper position and I'm about ready to beat her. Can't she tell by my loud and very colorful swearing that her tugging hurts me? I'm about to take my working arm and hit her upside the head with it when Tseng hops into the back of the truck, a gun pressed to my forehead. That snaps me out of my pain fueled anger in seconds. "H-hey! Put that thing down!"

Tseng frowns at me and thankfully lowers his gun to my chest so I'm not going cross-eyed as I stare at the barrel. I've got no idea what's going through his head, but I'm sure it involves dismembering me. I wish I hadn't been swearing at this nurse so loud, it got his attention. "Where is Elena?"

"Get in and go left, and then right, then straight for a bit, then left again and straight the rest of the way. Rude's already on his way but if you hurry you can catch up to him. He's probably cleared the way for you." I would have told him even if he didn't have a gun, but I suppose he just didn't want to deal with the inevitable crap that I make him put up with.

Tseng leaves with his own set of meat-shields and I lay back, letting the field nurse clean me up. After the third tug on my arm, however, I end up punching her in the shoulder and screaming bloody murder. She leaves me alone after that and I'm glad, her hands were freezing anyways. I listen to the gunfight going on inside and smile as the sounds of screaming bullets grow less frequent, hoping that that means none of Rieldes' men are alive. I want Rieldes to be forced to fight alone when Rude and Tseng try to pry Elena from his brutal hands. I want Rieldes to suffer the way she has suffered. I want Rude and Tseng to break his wrist and stab him repeatedly with a really big syringe; I want them to beat him so badly that he's unrecognizable. I want them to finish the job by shoving a broomstick up that stupid kidnapping rapist's ass. I have a pretty good imagination for this kind of shit and if I were there I'd put it to good use on the sick bastard.

It seems to take an eternity, but finally all sounds of gunfire fade and a clean-up crew immediately starts flooding into the building to take stock of our loses. I sit up and watch the entrance that my allies are flooding in and out of for the blonde and the baldy that I want to see, but first I see stretcher after stretcher carted past with injured comrades and prostitutes nestled inside. I guess Tseng didn't give the order to kill anything that isn't me or Elena, because there are quite a few living prostitutes. I'm sure there are more of them dead inside, but I'm worried about the live ones. I watch for a sign of Kiya, but I know I won't see her. I stick my hand into my pocket and pull out the scrap she gave me, sighing softly as I realize that my stupid conscience will pester me until I do what she asked and find this Ma lady. It's going to drive me nuts, looking through the slums for a particular Ma when there are hundreds of Mas. I had a Ma when I was growing up in the slums, she wasn't my real mom, but she acted like a mom to me and about fifteen other kids who desperately needed what she could provide. Kiya's Ma is probably no different than mine which means finding her will be as difficult as finding a straight figure-skater.

I finally catch sight of the faces I want to see and hop out of the truck shakily, my legs trying to fold up beneath me because I still don't have enough blood in me to stand. I walk towards Rude and Elena, almost crying in relief as I see her chest rise and fall as she breathes. Rude has obviously used his sub-par healing skills on her too because her face isn't ripped or bruised anymore and her previously broken wrist is sitting at an odd angle on her arm. Rude makes his way towards me and sighs, shaking his head in either disbelief or disappointment. I can't tell which. His head shakes are hard to read. "Get back in the truck, Reno. You need medical attention."

"Not as bad as I need to see that you guys are alright. Where is Tseng?" I hope he's kicking Rieldes' ass, Tseng is about as imaginative as I am when it comes to torture, maybe even more imaginative, and I can't think of anyone better suited for the job of killing Rieldes than him.

Rude stops in front of me, knowing that I'm more worried about Elena's safety than Tseng's. After all, Tseng did shoot me. "Tseng is taking care of clean up. We're supposed to go back to Shinra and get you two taken care of. And before you ask, Tseng says you can't keep your arm that way and if he has to break it himself he will get it put back in its proper place."

I snap the fingers on my backwards hand and shake my head. "Awww nuts I liked being a freak."

Elena looks up at me with her blood-streaked face and tear-filled honey-brown eyes, crying quietly in relief. She looks like a million bucks to me even though she's in a state of total disarray. "You're okay!"

I nod and let Rude lead the way to the truck where the ridiculously rough field nurse is waiting with some gauze and a washcloth. "I'm just a little roughed up and backwards, as usual. It doesn't matter."

Rude sets Elena in the truck and lets the nurse start cleaning her up. I wish we had some clothes to give her; she looks like she's freezing. Rude picks me up by my collar and sets me back in the truck, lifting me as easily as a rag-doll. "Stay put this time."

I nod and salute him with my working hand. "Will do…Good work, partner. Thanks for everything."

Rude snorts and punches my shoulder lightly. "Don't think you're done repaying me for this because you said thanks. You owe me a drink. Hell, you owe me about fifty drinks."

"Let's just add this to my tab then, okay?" I grin and look back at Elena, who is now wrapped in a blanket the nurse gave her. Maybe that nurse just hates men; she's being awfully gentle with Elena. That or I've already traumatized this nurse in some way.

Rude nods, "deal." He leaves and I'm pretty sure he's going to kick the driver out of the front seat. Rude doesn't like riding in cars, he likes driving them. It's a well-kept secret between us that he gets car-sick if he doesn't drive. It's why nine times out of ten I'll let him have the wheel.

I scootch next to Elena as the truck rumbles to life, letting the nurse jump out and close the tailgate for us. Thankfully Rude fixed us up enough that she doesn't have to stay and try to force my arm back into position with her freezing hands. Elena rests her head on my shoulder and looks at her wrist. "Rude needs to work on fixing broken bones."

I nod and hold my backwards arm out for her to see. "No kidding. I think we can chalk these up to him being rushed and worried. He'll do better next time."

Elena shudders, "I hope there isn't a next time."

"Me too, this isn't my cup of tea." I wrap my left arm around her shoulders, pulling her head from my shoulder to under my chin. She doesn't protest the move and snuggles into me, making my heart soar. I want this to be a happy ending and so far it looks like I've got a good chance of living long enough for that to happen. I'm pretty sure Tseng will reinstate me into the Turks and get this entire fiasco wiped from everyone's record when we get back and I grovel for a little bit. I really don't want to go back to Shinra just so I can get shot or put in jail or something, but since Tseng didn't kill me when he had the chance I get the feeling that he never will.

Elena closes her eyes and rests against me and I get the strangest feeling that she's listening to my heart race. I know I can hear my heart pounding in my ears and surging with blood my body is making at breakneck speed to make up for the deficit it's in. I'm pretty sure Elena doesn't appreciate the gore I'm smearing on her by holding her around the shoulders, but she hasn't moved away or said anything so I'm not going to be removing my arm anytime soon. I think we both deserve this moment of peace after all we've been through in the past few days. This moment where she can relax and rest and I can keep her company. We'll both spend a few days in the hospital and then be back to normal, or at least as normal as we can be. I think I'm going to beg for a second chance to celebrate her birthday…

Author's Note: And this story is….OVER!

I have this strange urge to say 'finally', but I also feel so sad that it has to be over. I would make it longer, but I want to leave it on a high note and I want to leave some room for future speculation for you lovely readers. That and ending this puts the number of chaptered stories I need to work on down to five and might leave me room to work on some more one-shots for you guys. I've been pretty slack on writing lately because of how overwhelming six stories is. I'm going to try and reign myself in in the future; I just can't sort all these different storylines out at once in my head without leaving something lacking in either depth or timing.

I thank everyone who reviewed and read and gave and continues to give me support and encouragement.

THANK YOU!