A/N: Yes! Finally! I didn't mean to abandon this story for a couple of weeks; I've just had fierce writer's block. It got so bad that I couldn't write at all in my usual setting, and so pretty much this entire chapter has been composed in the margins of my class notes. This should be interesting around finals.
Elena's car was nice, I noticed vaguely as I settled into the seat. I leaned my head against the window, and then jerked awake, dazed and blinking and wondering why everything was so silent. The car had stopped. Then a blast of cold air rolled over me, disorienting me further. Elena followed it in, handing me a bag that smelled of bread as she got back into the driver's seat.
"Sandwiches," she explained. "Turkey, ham, or roast beef, you get first pick."
"This is more than three," I said, the first detail I'd picked up.
"Two of each." She considered me for a moment before pulling out of the parking space. "I shouldn't have wakened you."
"No, I want food too," I protested, apparently thinking I would only get one chance at sustenance.
The building she drove to next looked awfully familiar, and I was about to mention that when I noticed all the yellow crime scene tape and all the people in uniforms and dark suits. "Is this where he got shot?" I asked.
"Yeah. I'm supposed to meet Reno, but hell if I know what to do with you while I go to find him. Can you promise not to wander off?"
"I'm tired, I didn't regress to the age of three," I said, and then there was a knock at the window. She gestured at me, and I stared at her stupidly for a moment, then back at the window. That's when I recognized Reno, caught on, and rolled the window down. In my defense, I'd had a very rough day or so.
"Okay, there's Elena," he said, looking at some space above my eyes. I guess he'd had a rough day too. "I was starting to worry you got here by yourself. 'Lena, she's not supposed to be here."
"I know that, but my place is not on the way here," she began as she bailed out of the car again. He moved away from my window as they talked, and though I watched them through the windshield, I stopped paying attention to them. I had a sandwich, and too much on my mind, and I was so tired I felt physically ill, though the food helped a bit.
They talked for the duration of two six-inch roast beef subs, including the time it took me to extract the onions, and then he climbed into the back seat. I remembered saying hello to him. Next thing I knew, Elena was shaking my shoulder, and she and Reno, working together, steered me into the elevator in what was probably her apartment building.
I ended up in a large leather armchair, curled up almost like a cat, although my cat often gets all four feet over his head and I wasn't about to try that while wearing shoes. They both sat on the couch, eating, and talking in a steady murmur. I was trying not to think, which meant opening my eyes every so often to force my mind off one track or another. After a while Elena got up, with much rustling of paper, and when I next looked she was leaning against the wall. She had a glass of something, and so did Reno, and it looked like there was a bottle on the coffee table. I tried to focus my eyes to identify the bottle, but the label was turned away from me, and that was as much deductive power as I felt like expending.
"Just don't know..." one of them mumbled.
"Think all this talking about it shit's overrated. You just suck it up and go on," another voice said, and that was clearly Reno.
"Well, that's fine for you, but some of us deal with things differently," she retorted.
I should have said something to Rude, I thought. I couldn't tell him I loved him, but I could have said something. Or done something. I shouldn't have just left like that. It was possible to let somebody know you cared about them without actually saying it. Words aren't the only way to let people know what you're thinking. Was that what I'd said? It wasn't very good advice for most circumstances. I couldn't very well molest Rude in his hospital bed. But I'd never been good at pinning my emotions down to words, either.
"...we both know how that feels."
"Yeah, I do. I know you're in love with him, and—"
"I am not!"
"Joshua..." he simpered, mockingly.
"I'm not in love with him, dammit! It'd be a lot simpler if I were, and it's none of your business anyway."
"Okay, well, what'd you call it, then?"
"I'd call it you being an unpleasant drunk and you owe me a bottle of vodka and an apology. And orange juice, you used up a lot of my orange juice."
"Most of that was you, sweetheart, and I think we both know you're more drunk than me."
I chose that moment to share. I've never been very good at timing, socially. "Rude told me he's in love with me," I said, trying to force my eyes open. They both went quiet. All I could hear was the ticking of a clock somewhere.
Elena broke the silence first. "So what'd you say?"
"I didn't say anything."
"You're a cold woman, Lockhart," Reno intoned.
"I told you never to call me that!" I complained feebly, but Elena had her own, much more vehement objection.
"He's not entitled to have her say it! She can feel however she wants! Rude's deserving if anyone ever was, but she doesn't owe him anything! Men are such— Just because YOU have a feeling, you feel like you're entitled to put it into play and expect other people to return it or at least just deal with it and—"
"Okay, okay. Shit. Don't have to go feminist on me."
"Fuck you, Reno!" she yelled, and I heard a door slam. Then silence.
"That's a really loud clock," I observed. I never heard if he replied.
It was just getting light again when I woke, sore from the way I'd slept. Apparently I'd managed to shed my shoes at some point during the night, but I'd elected to stay curled up in the chair fully clothed for some reason. Someone had covered me with an afghan, though. When I got up, I opened doors on an empty bedroom and a linen closet before I located the bathroom.
I didn't see Reno anywhere, though I didn't try every room, but when I went into the kitchen, I found Elena, nursing a cup of coffee. "Tifa, I am so sorry," she greeted me immediately.
"Oh, about last night?"
"Yeah. I mean, Reno and I always kind of fought, but not like that. I was... I guess we were both under a lot of stress." She looked up with a bright smile. "You want some coffee?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Cream, no sugar."
"Weird, but okay."
"What was it all about?" I asked her, a question general enough that I was bound to get some sort of information. Especially considering the source.
"Well, he always picked on me, ever since I was in training. Always said he was just teasing, but I'd take it seriously... this is why we only went out for, like, three weeks. Once I started my field training, Rude would kind of mediate. Like... they all go by their surnames. Mine's Samuelle, and Reno would shorten it to Sam or Sammy, and I lasted about three days before I was ready to kill him with a barbell in the company gym. I never said anything, but Rude started calling me by my first name and the other two picked it up after a while. Just things like that." She seemed to realize then that she was still monopolizing my coffee, and handed it to me.
"Where was Tseng in all this?" I asked, genuinely curious. Aerith had known him, and I'd always sort of wondered about that. He reminded me of nothing so much as a venomous snake, but maybe he'd been different in private.
"He'd just kind of smirk and leave us to work it out. It was a sexy smirk, but..."
"Yeah."
"It's just we both rely on Rude a lot more than we maybe realize. And him getting hurt was such a shock. It's usually Reno. He's so reckless anyway, plus he gets in fights just for the hell of it. Rude... doesn't. He's cautious. I mean, stubborn as a mule, won't let anyone past him, but he doesn't take risks for excitement."
I nodded. That fit, but something else was on my mind now. "What was it about you being in love with someone?" I asked.
It was hard to tell when Rude blushed. With Elena, there was no doubt. Her face, throat and ears were all bright pink. "I'm not in love with anyone," she said. "He thinks I have a thing for Josh Reeve, but he's my boss! I've been there and it wasn't— I mean, you don't— I mean, I want to hear more about what happened with you and Rude."
"Oh no. Please no," I whimpered, but she pressed on.
"He really said it?"
"Yeah, and I couldn't just say it back, it's not like—"
"No, I understand. But I guess that explains why he was kind of weird when I saw him next."
I nodded miserably. I'd been hoping we could behave normally, but it stood to reason. "At least now I know how Cloud felt," I said. It had been some time after we fought Sephiroth; maybe a couple of weeks, after we'd done all they seemed to think we could do to help in the rescue effort. We got away, got a nice hotel room, and made love more for comfort than out of passion. And I told him I was in love with him. He didn't pull away, but he didn't say he loved me, either, not until nearly a month later. I remembered the way I'd felt then, when I realized he hadn't said those words, might not say them, and might be planning to let me down gently at any moment, might have thought the night before we went into the crater had been a terrible mistake.
Or maybe he'd just been feeling confused and vaguely guilty and wishing it could be simple.
When I walked into his room that afternoon, his whole face lit up with a smile, and I could feel the previous night's worry melting away. Elena gave me a triumphant grin and then shooed me out of the room so she could talk to him.
"Didn't think you'd be back today," he said, when I was allowed back in.
"I didn't spend all that money to come here and not see you, Rude," I said, quietly, as I sank into the chair.
"Makes sense. Just meant I wouldn't have blamed you for it." He looked at his hands. "....hadn't meant to say that."
"I'm not going to hold it against you," I said, managing to smile like I was making a joke. "I was more afraid you'd be mad at me."
"No," he said, and he touched my cheek lightly. I grabbed his hand before he could withdraw it, held onto it with something closer to a death-grip than to romantic clinging. He didn't seem to mind, and just tugged at my arm until I got up and seated myself gingerly on the edge of the bed. "You don't seem happy," he noted.
"Well, you managed to get yourself shot, remember? I think I'm entitled to be a little upset." He was still holding my hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth over my knuckles, and I found myself actually smiling a little.
"It's gonna be okay," he said, and I looked up, finding myself staring hard at the top of his head. I got no sign from his scalp that he knew what those words meant to me, that he'd chosen them deliberately. "I lived through this. We'll work out better security. Never needed it with Shinra, that family didn't have the common touch."
I just nodded, but there was no response, and I added "yeah," softly.
"And we can... I mean, you can move here. If you want. Plenty of jobs. Reeve'd hire you, for one."
"You think so?" I asked without thinking, hopeful, and he broke out in smiles again. I found myself smiling back – somehow it was hard not to, when he looked happy – and he sat forward, putting his arms around me. It couldn't have been too comfortable. I squeezed his forearm, the only part I could easily lay hands on, and managed to work my other arm around him. That's how we were when his parents came in.
We sprung apart like a pair of guilty teenagers, though I suppose in his case the hospital gown might have had something to do with his turn for the demure. His mother chattered while arranging plants around the room, and he and his father and I talked doggedly about sports. Actually, I would talk – I like sports – and one of them would respond with a 'yup' or an 'nnn' and the other would counter with a name or a term, usually a name, and then the other would incline his head or shrug. And then one of them would say "Defense, though..." and it would start all over again.
When his mother was done with the vegetation, the conversation turned to family issues. She ran through an exhaustive catalog of all the births and deaths and weddings that had happened to scores of people. Rude would periodically interject with a "Cousin," or "Some kind of relative, dunno," and I suppose she kept it to a minimum, because she summed up with "Everyone else is doing well and Lucas is up for parole." Fortunately I couldn't work up the nerve to ask for details immediately. "So what about your case?" she asked.
"Mom, you know I can't tell you that. Ask Elena."
"I know," she agreed, smiling serenely.
He sighed heavily, but he answered. "No outside ties. Whole group's based in Midgar. One guy's from Kalm, that's as far afield as they get from what's been identified." He kept trying to catch my eye as he spoke, and I realized he was trying to let me know it wasn't Barret's doing. I tried to look grateful, but in a subtle way so his parents wouldn't wonder. "They should be making arrests now," he added. "Don't tell anyone anything."
"Of course not, honey," she assured him. "Now we're going to go and buy Tifa here some dinner, and we'll be back to see you tomorrow."
"Wait, what?" I asked, suddenly alarmed. They'd been very nice, but this would involve table manners and extended scrutiny, and who knew what topics of conversation.
"We don't bite," his father said, rising from a chair.
"Part of 'Lena's plan, she'll grab you later," Rude explained. "She forget to mention it?"
I just nodded, neglecting to mention that I felt like someone's dry cleaning. I had no room to complain, really, since Elena was putting me up for free. I hung back while everyone bustled around, his mother gathering up the boxes that had held the plants, his dad squeezing his shoulder and then exiting the room, leaving the rest of us behind. I found the last of the boxes and a glasses case for his mother, wondering if we were supposed to run off and try to catch up with him.
"He's bringing the car around," she volunteered without my asking. "I need to run by the ladies', so you two can have some privacy."
He groaned "Ma!" in a way that gave me a perfect glimpse of him as an adolescent. A bald adolescent, I guess.
"She seems nice," I said, timidly, once she was out the door. "Not that you needed my approval or anything."
"I'm glad," he said, and he pulled me down next to him.
"You're just determined to get me into bed with you," I teased, trying to cover how awkward I felt physically; not because I didn't want to touch him, but because I was afraid I'd do some damage somehow.
"Uh huh. Wasn't it obvious?"
"Well, yeah," I replied, and I leaned down to kiss him. He hadn't been shot in the mouth, after all. My teeth caught at his lip, his hand tangled in my hair, and while I wasn't exactly noticing time I did notice that, even in this setting, he still smelled and tasted exactly as he had before. When we pulled apart I smiled, and he did too, looking so happy I had to kiss him again to give myself an excuse not to see his eyes.
"Better let you go," he murmured finally, lips grazing my cheek.
"Yeah, I think we're upsetting your little beepy machine over there."
"I don't know what that thing is. They told me, but I forgot." He was stroking my back, not exactly a backrub, and I was making no effort to stop him or move away. "Can't keep the folks waiting either," he added, but he didn't stop.
"I really really wish you were coming with me," I told him, but I did sit up.
"So do I. You get to eat food with flavor in it."
There was no arguing with that, anyway, so I just asked, "Do I look too disheveled?"
"You look incredible."
"That's not what I was asking, sweetie."
"I know. Turn your head— the thing on the right. Let me." I turned my head, letting him straighten my barrette. Amazingly, he actually accomplished it without pulling my hair unduly; hair ornaments were always too much for Cloud to cope with. "Sweetie?" he asked, but I could hear from his voice that he was smiling.
"Is that off-limits too? I can't call you cute, I can't—"
"No, I like it."
"You do?"
"Uh huh. Got it. You look symmetrical."
I leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "Pray for me," I said.
"Think of me as you salt your entree," he retorted, and while I meant to make a face at him just before I left, I ended up just beaming at him instead.