A/N: We're at 50 chapters! Holy crap. My poor old laptop literally needs a minute to open the story file.

Kanneola: Wow, thank you! I can't claim to have personal experience, really, so it's a huge relief to hear I got it right. Of all the subjects in this story, Reno's past and how it's shaped him is the one I found the most difficult to portray.


50. Dogs with a Bone


The helicopter was waiting for us at the airfield just outside of Edge. Was it only yesterday that we had left it there? It felt like weeks.

I was in a contemplative mood; still a bit raw, a bit shaken. Reno had bounced back to his chatty self by the time we began our drive through Edge and had filled the car with his idle monologue. I suspected appearances were deceptive, though. I didn't fail to notice his frequent glances my way, that lingered longer than necessary. They had soothed my restless thoughts.

The pre-flight protocol was becoming routine for me, but I still found a special thrill in that momentary struggle with gravity when the helicopter lost contact with the ground. I watched out the window as the broken skeleton of Midgar slid away below us, but once the scenery changed to the flat nothing of the badlands, I turned my attention to my purse. I had found it in the passenger's seat of the car when we left the apartment, but only now did it occur to me to check its contents. My keys and wallet were where I had left them, but I opened the latter to make sure everything was in place. Pulling out my ID from its slot caught Reno's attention.

"Hey, it's your birthday, ain't it?"

He was right, I realized. After such a crazy twenty-four hours, it had slipped my mind. I looked up in surprise.

"How do you know that?"

"Fixed your ID for ya, remember? So, how old are ya?"

I frowned. Reno smirked.

"That one of those questions you ain't s'posed to ask?"

I snorted softly and shook my head.

"I don't mind you asking. I just don't know how to answer. Do I count Earth years, Gaia years? Both?"

"Huh. Hadn't thought about that."

"Maybe I'll just stick with my last confirmed age. Forever twenty-nine."

He chuckled.

"Sure, works for me. Gives me a chance to catch up, yo."

I gave him a curious look, studying his profile. His face was smooth and youthful, but at times I would catch him with an expression that seemed a decade or two older than his appearance.

"How old are you?"

"Gonna be twenty-seven soon."

"Hm. That's not so bad. The way you act, I sometimes worry I'm robbing the cradle."

He rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. With a soft laugh, I looked back down at my ID. I ran a nail over the card's plastic surface, scraping gently at the birthdate. Twenty-nine, it claimed - well, thirty as of today. It had been my age when I was whisked to Gaia for the first time. When I had returned to Earth, about a year later, my old Cobalt user profile said forty-four.

"I never got a thirtieth birthday," I mumbled.

Had I never left home, I would have been well past fifty by now. Maybe sailing through the cosmos on a starship, or hopping from world to world through the Gateway. Married to James, probably. If we'd had children, they would be adults. I might have been a grandmother by now.

I slid the card back in, irritated by the sudden thickness of my throat. Such pointless daydreaming. It was far more likely that we would have been stuck on that barren rock of a planet. Were I still alive at all, I would be starving to death, if the thirst hadn't done the job already. Just like the rest of the poor bastards I had stranded there.

"Tell you what," Reno said. "When we get to Costa, we'll celebrate in style."

It took me a few moments to switch mental gears and figure out what he meant.

"What? No, no, this isn't a vacation. I have a job to do."

"Hey, whatever creepy critter might be lurkin' in Nibelheim has been there for months, if there's anythin' there at all. A couple of days ain't gonna matter. C'mon, Fitz, you could do with a break. Tyco says you've been doin' shitloads of overtime."

That made me swallow my next protest.

"You talked to him?"

"Yeah, called him this morning to fill him in on our plans. He got real bossy about makin' sure you got some downtime. I'm beginnin' to think the guy's sweet on ya."

I tried my best to respond to his grin in kind. Maybe Tyco had a point. One couldn't expect miracles from a mind running on fumes.

"C'mon, it'll be fun. I know a place we can stay at, too. The Prez has a villa by the beach, all fenced up, top-of-the-line security."

"Rufus Shinra would lend me his house for my birthday?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Eh, what he don't know won't hurt him," Reno said, grinning. "'Sides, ain't like he's got any use for it right now. Would be a shame to leave a nice place like that empty all year around, yo."

The eagerness was plain on his face. Hadn't I promised myself to make up for taking him for granted? This would give him a holiday in the sun, too. We could both do with a chance to wind down after the mess at the reactor.

"I suppose..."

"Nothin' like celebratin' the big three-oh in Costa del Sol, baby. The bartenders can mix anythin' you want. You like Sex on the Beach? Seduction on the Rocks? Sloe Comfortable Screw?"

He waggled his eyebrows, eyes glittering with impish glee. I laughed.

"You've tried them all, haven't you?"

"Maybe, but I bet they're all better with you, babe," he shot back with a wink. "Seriously tho', we could rent a boat, maybe go to one of the islands to get away from all the tourists. Hey, we could hit Rude's old home-turf."

He was getting more animated by the second, and his enthusiasm was infectious.

"He's an islander, huh?"

"Yeah, from Isla Arbo. It's tiny, but worth a visit for the beaches alone, that's for sure." His face lit up, as if something had just occurred to him. "Oh, and the caves by the shore are awesome. Would ya be up for a bit of spelunkin'?"

I fixed him with a stern look.

"If you're going to follow that up with anything containing the words 'love grotto' or 'fun tunnel', I'm going to hit you."

Reno exploded in a bellow of raucous laughter. For a second I feared the helicopter might take a nosedive into the desert.

"I'm serious," he managed to choke out after a while, red in the face. "There's this really neat place I wanna show ya."

"Huh." I had to admit the idea put an enjoyable tingle in my belly. "I've climbed all sorts of oversized rocks, but I've never explored them on the inside."

"We'll have a good time, I promise. I'll even let ya hold my hand the whole way if you're nervous about it."

"Aren't you the gentleman today."

He shot me an amused glance, but there was a satisfaction in his smile. He knew he had gotten his way.

"I got my moments."

After the dead black dust of the badlands, we came up on the vast expanse of water that separated the eastern and western continents. Both sea and sky were calm, which gave us a smooth transoceanic flight. At Costa del Sol, a few changes to the previous arrangements were necessary to turn an hour's fueling stop into a three-day vacation. It took half an hour of arguing with Costa airport officials for Reno to get clearance; then we were through, and on our way to the beach resort.

Thanks to the time difference, it was still before noon in Costa del Sol. The late morning was hot and sunny, as expected, but the humidity made the air thicker than what I had been used to in Cosmo Canyon. Part of me was tempted to wear the air-conditioned hazard suit, but it was stowed away in the helicopter and I doubted stomping around in full armor figured into Reno's plans.

The Turk spent most of the taxi ride chatting with the driver in Costan, gesticulating wildly – whether keeping him in line or just catching up on local news, I couldn't tell – so I drank in the view instead. The route took us down dusty lanes past yellow stucco buildings roofed with bright red terracotta tiles. The locals seemed to love arches, and balconies with wrought-iron railings, crowded with potted plants that flowered in riotous colors and sent out vines to conquer the walls.

In the center of town, the sidewalks were paved with irregular flagstones in sunbaked hues of yellow and orange, making Costa del Sol appear as warm as the sun above us. Occasionally I caught a glimpse between buildings of the turquoise sea and the stripy parasols dotting the beach, but it was hard to get a proper look past the throngs of tourists. The driver was forced to slow to a snail's pace, honking and shouting at the people crowding the streets. Reno leaned out of the open window, happy to add his contribution to the din, but he moderated his yelling with waves and toothy grins.

The Shinra villa was situated in a quieter part of town, near the water but beyond the cabins of the beachfront hotels. From the road, all I could see of it was a tall brick wall. The wrought-iron gate offered a peek of white plaster rising above trimmed hedges and paths of orange tile, but it wasn't until Reno had taken us through it and into the garden that I got a good view of the whole sprawling property. The villa followed the style of the Costan houses I had seen on the way, but with a modern twist and on a much grander scale; the front was a long, curving portico, set in with large, airy windows and topped with a steel-frame terrace that circled the whole upper floor.

"Whoa. This looks fantastic."

"Yeah, pretty snazzy."

Once inside, I stood in the spacious foyer and let my eyes do the exploring. A spiral staircase curling up to the second floor landing. Broad hallways sweeping off from either side into the wings of the villa, their clean lines broken up by the light and shade of the portico. Designer furniture tucked artfully into every nook and alcove. White dominated the palette, detailed in black and silver. It all felt stiflingly new.

"Sheesh. I don't dare touch anything in this place."

Reno laughed.

"Don't worry 'bout it, babe. The cleaning lady will deal with whatever mess we make in here."

"Great," I groaned. "Now I definitely don't dare touch anything."

"Shut up, Fitz, it's fine. Now get your ass upstairs and into that sexy bikini of yours. Don't wanna waste daylight. There'll be plenty of time to ogle the house later."

I shot him a dirty look, but followed him up to one of the bedrooms. Ten minutes later we were out of the house again, heading toward the beach.

On our way over, we had made a pit stop at a kiosk selling swimwear and other clothes. My bikini was a green one he had cajoled me into getting, which I wore under a loose tank top and shorts. Reno had picked out the most hideously garish boardshorts the shop had for sale – love at first sight on his part. In his lurid shorts and t-shirt, he adopted a laid-back amble and played the part of the obnoxious tourist to a T. He had exchanged his goggles for a pair of sunglasses; with nothing to rein it in, his hair hung in an uneven mess over his eyes. My fingers itched to ruffle it up even more. It wouldn't have been the first time I had done so today.

Stairs covered in painted tiles led down to the beach. I saw more towels and blankets than sand as we strolled along the brick wall that raised the town above the beach. Children and adults alike squealed and hollered in the water, turning it into a roiling pit of chaos. I was glad we had other plans for the day.

I could see why Costa was so popular, though. I hadn't caught a single glimpse of the telltale blackened bandages or refugees huddling in alleys. It was as if the Geostigma didn't exist in this part of the world. Whether it was some quirk of the disease, or just careful preening by the local authorities, it was no doubt a welcome respite for the resort's visitors. A place where you could forget. It shamed me to admit I found it a relief, too.

Our destination was a white, wooden house at one end of the main beach. Behind it was a pier with several boats, ranging from small sailed catamarans to speedboats. It was the latter Reno was interested in.

In the shade of the building's porch stood a man, leaning against the wooden railing that also served as a surfboard rack. At first glance he seemed like just another beach hunk in baggy shorts, but there was something familiar about him – an impression that grew stronger when he spotted Reno and raised his eyebrows. His gaze shifted to me, and I saw the curious appraisal play out in his eyes. I wasn't entirely at ease with his blatant once-over of my body.

Once we were within hearing, the man pushed himself off the railing and straightened up to his full height.

"Well, well. Look who's crawled into Costa."

The greeting held bite. I couldn't tell how Reno took it; he had already donned his game face.

"Rod, ya sonuvabitch," he said, smirking. "So this is where you ended up."

The man shrugged.

"Plenty of booze and a beach full of babes. Could be worse, like bein' stuck in that half-assed concrete hell you call Edge."

One of the former Turks, I recognized at last. With the spiky ginger hair and the sloppy drawl he struck me as a diluted version of Reno, which was why I remembered him in the first place. He had picked up a tan since I last saw him, which contrasted with the white sleeveless t-shirt he wore. A rather tight-fitting shirt, I couldn't help but notice. The man wasn't shy about showing off his – admittedly appealing – physique. It made me wonder why he had bothered with a shirt in the first place. Employee dress code, maybe, as he was presumably hanging out with surfboards for a reason.

"The booze is better here, sure," Reno said, "but I got no complaints about the babes back east."

Rod's eyes lingered on me again. I was beginning to feel like a piece of meat on display. My eyes narrowed, but he had already looked away. After a glance through the open door behind him, he lowered his voice.

"You here on business, or 'business'?"

"Just want a boat, yo."

"Uh huh." Rod looked him up and down with a calculating stare that went on a tad too long, then gestured with a flick of his head toward an overweight man behind the counter inside. "Talk to the manager. He handles boat rentals."

"Won't be long, baby," Reno told me, then stepped into the building.

While he sorted out the details, I browsed the postcards on display in a rotating rack by the door, idly checking for a nice one I could mail to the office in Kalm. I didn't notice Rod sidling up until he was right behind me.

"This your first time in Costa?"

Now that he was speaking to me alone, the man's manner had changed from borderline hostility to something smooth and ingratiating. It didn't improve my impression of him.

"First vacation, yes," I replied over my shoulder with a tight-lipped smile.

"Well, you're in for a treat. Loads of fun to be had around here. Got any evenin' plans?"

I circled around the rack, pretending to look at the cards on the other side. I didn't want him behind my back.

"Not yet, no."

Rod took a step closer and leaned his arm up on the rack. He lowered his voice to a murmur.

"Well, there's a quiet lil' cove a bit outta town with a nice view of the sunset. Real... romantic, y'know."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. There was a slight curve to his lips, but it wasn't exactly friendly; more like he was enjoying some private joke. Between the wall, the rack and his body, I was beginning to feel cornered.

"I don't think anything 'romantic' is on the cards."

"Oh, I get it. Ain't exactly Reno's style, huh?"

I jumped a little when he touched me, pushing up the tank top strap that threatened to slip over my shoulder. He must have completely misunderstood my message. I frowned at his hand in disbelief, but he didn't remove it.

"Y'know, it's more my style." His fingers slid down, skimming along the bare skin of my arm. "I could take ya there, tonight–"

I was about to whirl around and pin him with a glare – but as he said it, he flinched back and drew in a sharp breath. Reno had appeared by his side, his fist tight over Rod's wandering fingers.

"Rod, buddy, a quick word."

Reno's grin was decidedly predatory as he hustled the other man aside with a firm grip on his shoulder. He spoke with a voice too quiet for me to make out, but at the end of it, Rod did not look happy. Scowling and rubbing his hand, he stalked off. Reno returned to me, looking pleased with himself.

"Want to tell me what all that was about?" I asked, planting my hands on my hips.

"Just settin' a few things straight, yo."

"Getting rid of the competition, you mean."

My tone was needlessly sharp. The skin on my arm still crawled after Rod's unwelcome touch, and it made me spit out my irritation on the nearest target.

"Makin' sure you don't end up in trouble 'cause of me, is all. Don't wanna hurt your ego or anythin', but Rod's only tryin' it on with ya to mess with me."

He rolled up on his toes and back a few times, speaking in a breezy tone. I figured his nonchalance was an act, in case Rod still lurked around nearby, but it still irked me. I felt like a bone tugged this way and that by posturing dogs.

"Do you seriously think I'd fall for moves like that?"

Reno raised his eyebrows.

"'Course not. I know you're a smart one, Doc. I just don't trust him to know when to back off."

Flattery and chivalry in the same response. More importantly, I noted, a touch of respect. Reno really did have his moments. I rubbed my arm, wiping the memory of Rod's touch from my prickling skin, and let my temper simmer down.

"And here I thought you Turks were one big happy family."

"Sorry to disappoint," he said with half a smile. "Rod and me never hit it off. The guy can't stand bein' second best and I'm the one who caught him stealin' from Shinra back in the day. As a Turk, he wanted my job. Guess now he wants my girl."

"So, that was your 'hands off my woman' routine, huh?"

With a chuckle, Reno hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts. His t-shirt bunched up, revealing a sliver of toned stomach that was awfully hard to ignore.

"Nah, that'd just make him try harder. Told him you're in Turk custody and I'm on protection detail. That oughta keep him in check." Mischief crept into his smile when he noticed where I kept peeking. "So, y'know, try not to jump my bones while he's around. Might make him suspicious, yo."

"It'll be a challenge, but I'll try."

There was a sly smile on my lips. Reno grinned and dangled a set of keys in the air.

"C'mon, let's get outta here. Boat's ready."