By Ktrenal
Chapter Thirteen - The Innate Generosity Of Mankind
It wasn't quite the industrial city that he'd grown up in, not by a long shot. There certainly were the beginnings of industry, though, whole areas of the broad, sprawling settlement made up entirely of factories and manufacturing buildings, and where the rest of the world he'd seen so far seemed comparatively rather medieval, here there were hints of recognisable technology. There was the occasional car, or at least what he guessed to be cars. They were large and ugly and smelled strongly of a fuel Reno didn't recognise. Certainly not the sleek, Mako powered, Shinra produced vehicles of his time.
The air felt thick and heavy, clogged with the black smoke that issued from the scant vehicles, and further smoke from the factories. Reno couldn't quite decide if this was better or worse than the Mako pollution; this was much heavier, in such a manner that it felt like it was settling in his lungs in an almost choking manner, whereas the gases ejected from the Reactors had been more inclined to cause random mutation and Mako poisoning. He'd have preferred that to this feeling of slowly choking to death.
But then, perhaps it was the fact that his chest hurt so much already, and the pollution of the city only made his laboured breathing that much more difficult. He really hadn't expected Midgar to be like this, though. He couldn't have said what he had expected, but this boiling centre of blossoming industry hadn't been it. It was for the better, he realised, since a city with some evidence of technology would be better suited to getting him home than a larger version of Darton.
It still hadn't entered his mind at all that, even though he was here now, finding a way back into the future wasn't going to be a simple task. He'd concentrated only on reaching the city, knowing that when he got there he would be able to go home. And he still would. He'd just have to get some help first. Preferably before he fell off Butterfly's back, for example.
The street was fairly busy, with numerous people moving back and forth, and so Reno stopped one, looking down at the man from where he remained on Butterfly's back. "Which way to the hospital?" he asked simply, trusting in the fact that the man he'd stopped wouldn't ask too many questions, or cause him any more trouble than was absolutely necessary.
The man seemed to hesitate for a few moments, taking in the entirety of the Turk's appearance, before indicating a few simple directions through the city to the nearest hospital. Evidently Reno looked the part of someone who should be receiving some help. He definitely felt the part, for that matter, and so with a nod of thanks to the man, he set Butterfly walking once more, following the directions the man had given.
Where Midgar of the future, his time, was largely built in a grid manner, an efficient design of Reeve's, the city now was a sprawling mass of twisting roads and narrow alleys, somewhat reminiscent of the Slums below the plates. But then, it was this city that would one day become the Slums, with the true city of Midgar suspended above. The layout was chaotic to say the least, and disorganised. He couldn't help but be reminded of his old home though, and feel a little nostalgic for his life in the huge city.
Before too long, they reached a large, sprawling building that could only be the hospital of Midgar, a broad entranceway through which emergency cases could be rushed through quickly, and off to one side, an expansive lobby and reception area. And then spreading out to the left and right were the wings of the hospital, the various departments for whatever medical condition could possibly occur.
It occurred to Reno that the technology of this time would be far less than that of the world he knew, simply due to the vast funds Shinra had buried its science department in. While much of that money had gone into research into the Lifestream, and Jenova, more than enough had been spared for medical research, if only to keep the company's top employees in good condition. Turks and SOLDIERs had a habit of obtaining some very severe injuries that even materia proved ineffective against.
But, with that much considered, he knew there were some techniques that had been lost in the mists of time, since materia and magical potions had become much easier, and so to a certain extent, the doctors here would have access to some information that those of Reno's own time wouldn't. All in all, he would rather have been in the hands of a well-trained Shinra doctor, in the Turks' private wing of the Shinra funded hospital, than at the mercy of old time physicians who lacked the knowledge of the effects Mako had on the body.
There certainly was an element of risk here; there were certain drugs that reacted badly with Mako, and so had the potential to kill an unlucky SOLDIER. Or Turk, for that matter. He'd have to explain this to the doctors, although perhaps simply giving the excuse of being allergic would make matters simpler, since that was something they could understand.
Now all he had to do was go inside and get some attention. That was something Reno had absolutely no problem in achieving, however; he was a master at getting attention when he put his mind to it, and had a true flair for the dramatic. It was an odd contrast really, since he could happily slink about in the shadows, completely inconspicuous, if he had need to. It was all a matter of choice, ultimately. If he wanted to be noticed, he would be, and if he didn't, then he would make sure no one would notice him. And that was true skill, he knew that for a certainty.
Gathering what remained of his strength, he dropped unsteadily from Butterfly's back, and stood by her side on legs that threatened to collapse beneath him. He pulled her reins over her head, securing them to the rail outside the building, and then gave her a solid look. "Behave yourself now, and I'll get someone to take you to a stables. Okay?" he asked, waiting for a responsive wark from the large yellow bird.
Upon receiving this affirmative warble, he nodded, and walked into the hospital, keeping himself on his feet by pure strength of will alone, since his muscles had lost their physical strength some time before. He simply pushed the door open and walked in, looking more than a little unsteady, and certainly feeling it. He was careful to be completely understated in the matter, as if trying not to draw attention to himself. He knew well enough that the best way to be noticed in such a situation was to not make a fuss of his injuries. Anyone well enough to complain loudly about their injuries was very rarely seriously hurt. It was the quiet and lethargic ones that had to be watched for, the ones who had dropped beyond their limits and were unable now to complain.
Of course, Reno hardly had to pretend, since it was pretty much the truth. He was far too tired to be loud and attract attention by demanding it in a strong tone of voice. Instead, the quiet and lethargic method appealed much more to him, and it would be more effective anyway. Already, as he walked across the lobby to the front desk, several other people waiting nearby stepped away to give him room, and watched him with both curiousity and concern. Yes, Reno of the Turks was the master at getting attention in the most subtle method available.
He came to the reception desk, and leaned tiredly against the high counter, giving the girl on the phone a very placid, patient look, while also looking as if he were about to lose consciousness. It wasn't far off the truth, admittedly. She didn't notice him at first, but then moment her gaze happened to fall on him, she gave a hurried 'good bye' to the person on the other end of the phone, and then turned her entire attention to him. "Sir, are you alright?" she asked him.
Reno nodded, knowing exactly how to play this to its fullest advantage. Even if he really was about to collapse, he'd rather not actually do so, and so forced himself to keep his head. Not that he would have any trouble getting any help here, but it was the principle of the thing. He was going to maintain his consciousness, and stability of mind, no matter how tired or cold he was, and how much pain he felt. No more thoughts of marrying chocobos, for example, and now bending these people to his will would require some cohesive thought. He hated spending time in hospital, and the best way to survive it was to make the various females around the building want to help him and make his stay more pleasant.
"I'm alright," he said quietly, and it was clear enough from his tone of voice that he wasn't. "I'd appreciate somewhere to sit though..." he added after a moment, still leaning heavily against the counter, as if moving away from it would cause him to fall over. It probably would, actually.
As soon as he said it, several of the people sitting in nearby chairs stood up, motioning for him to sit, and even offering to help him move to the chairs from the counter. It was amazing how nice people were willing to be, although Reno recognised immediately that as in Darton and Junon, the people of this time were intrinsically better, less caught up so entirely in their own welfare, and willing to assist anyone who really seemed to need help.
These people were genuinely unselfish, and someone other than Reno might have felt some guilt for manipulating such trusting individuals. Never Reno though; he'd learned his lessons the hard way, and a lifetime of looking out solely for his own needs at the expense of others would certainly not be overwritten by the kind acts of a few. But by the nature of his manipulative behaviour, he could always act as if he were one of them, as if he were as trusting and kind as them.
He allowed himself to be helped over to the chair, and sat down gratefully, and murmuring soft thanks to those who had helped him. When he shivered, the combination of the exhaustion and deep chill in him that had only intensified now that he was inside the building and out of the sunlight, he felt a jacket draped over his shoulders almost immediately, and barely a few moments later a mug of steaming hot chocolate was pressed into his hands. Both of these he accepted willingly, and again he thanked the people around him.
Reno did have to enjoy this treatment, and he couldn't have denied otherwise. He always had loved to be the centre of attention, and while he generally hated pity, it wasn't that these people held true pity for him; it was the concern of a society that was used to looking out for every member, regardless of who they were. And this came as a rather stark contrast to the future the Turk knew so well, where no one was inclined to help anyone unless there was something in it for them, and they certainly wouldn't have helped him. The form of the red-haired Turk was far too familiar, and far too hated, to ever receive this kind of attention at home.
He reflected idly that he might have been an entirely different person if he'd experienced this kind of care all of his life, and would have the ability to be more genuinely grateful for it. While he did hold some gratitude for the assistance he was receiving, it was more a case of the fact that he had successfully manipulated them to get his way, and was now enjoying the attention. His thanks were simply expressions to let them think he was indebted to them. His gratitude was because they had conceded to his wishes and noticed him when he wished to be noticed, rather than because they were helping him.
While this was going on, the girl behind the counter had called for a doctor, who walked quickly into the lobby and took in the scene immediately with quick, intelligent grey eyes. He approached Reno, able to identify him as the man the receptionist had called about; there was no mistaking an obviously severely injured young man with vibrant red hair and glowing eyes, currently wrapped in a large jacket that clearly belonged to someone of a much larger frame, and receiving assistance to sip slowly from a mug of warm fluid. "Hello, young man. It seems you would benefit from some medical attention."
Reno nodded slowly, regarding the doctor carefully. "Yes, but I can wait. You must have other patients..." he spoke softly. That was proof enough that he could behave as if he truly were one of these people, and by remaining unselfish, he knew he would ensure almost immediate treatment. That was how people like this operated, after all.
"Oh, no, you need help now," the doctor said, and then nodding to a man standing nearby, the two helped Reno to his feet and lead him to the nearest examination room, shadowed by a nurse. The man left the room again the moment the Turk was settled sitting on the table, and the doctor almost immediately began studying him, probing his injuries, taking readings, and asking questions. These questions were fairly direct, starting with his name and age, which he felt far too tired to lie about this time, and going on to how he'd got into this state, which Reno answered simply and honestly.
"Death magic, you say?" the doctor asked, more than a little skeptical on the matter. Evidently he wasn't one to simply believe any stories like that, but then, this young man was an unusual one, if only for the glowing eyes.
"Yeah... shouldn't have survived it, but I got lucky..." Reno replied. "Think I might have died for a few moments, but I'm not sure..."
"Well, it would seem most likely that you're in shock, and you've definitely been outside for far too long. Taking on a dark dragon by yourself, too. Very silly, young man," the doctor murmured as he helped the Turk to remove the shirt and two jackets he was wearing, in order to look more closely at the wounds to his chest.
Reno couldn't help but shiver as the cool air of the room reached his skin, although it was the gentle, trembling shiver of muscles that really were too tired to maintain such movement for any length of time. Glancing down, he noticed how pale his skin looked, even more so than its usual light shade. Even time spent in Costa Del Sol had always failed to darken his naturally pale complexion. However, around the claw marks across his chest the skin was reddened and a little swollen, and along the side that had impacted with the stalagmite in the cavern there were dark purplish bruises, showing vividly against the unusually pale skin.
The doctor tched softly in the back of his throat, and encouraged Reno to lay down on the bed, while the nurse fluttered around him, testing his blood pressure, temperature, taking a small blood sample, and eventually preparing his arm to inject him with... something. The Turk wasn't entirely sure, but already his consciousness was slipping, the control he'd enforced on himself to stay awake this long now degrading and allowing him to rest. He managed to murmur a few words, enough to indicate the drugs he knew he was 'allergic' to; the ones that would react badly with the Mako in his system. And from there, he would simply have to trust these people not to do anything nasty to him.
But that was the nature of this society, wasn't it? They wouldn't dream of doing anything but the best they could, simply because he needed help and there was no reason not to give the aid required to save his life. It wasn't in Reno's nature to trust such people though; from his experience anyone who was overtly nice and helpful was inevitably up to something. He'd never truly believed the innocence of the Ancient, Aeris, simply because no one who lived a childhood in the Slums could be innocent like that. No one could be intrinsically nice; something like that simply was too good to be true.
And yet, he remembered a time that seemed so long ago now, when after his first encounter with AVALANCHE, he'd leapt from the collapsing Sector Seven pillar and into the helicopter waiting just below. He remembered collapsing on the floor there, listening through a semi-conscious daze as Tseng spoke what were supposed to be the last words to the terrorist group, and how as the helicopter fled the destruction, the Ancient had knelt by Reno's side...
In the blaze of pain that surged through his body, the gentle touch of the young woman's hand was almost lost as it carefully brushed the locks of hair out of his eyes, before trailing softly down his cheek, pausing for a moment over the thin scars that cut across his high cheekbones. When the hand had pulled away, he cast his gaze upwards, meeting her eyes for a moment, and then focusing on her moving lips.
The words she spoke he didn't recognise; they were of a language he had never heard before, but he could tell, dimly, that it was a very old language, smooth and flowing over vowel intensive syllables like a slowly moving river. It was a beautiful tongue, perhaps made more so by the voice of the woman herself, which was light, and innocent. Too innocent, considering where she had come from, but to the eyes of Reno, blurred with pain, she seemed to take on a somewhat angelic appearance. If he'd been in a better state than this, he would have laughed at the mere idea.
As it was, he was in no condition to do anything but lie there in a rapidly increasing pool of his own blood, every single second that elapsed seeming to stretch into an eternity of agonising pain. And then a soft wind swirled around him, the white lights that accompanied it bathing him in a relaxing glow. When the magic dissipated, so did the pain, at least a little. The spell, whatever it had been, since he didn't recognise it as a regular healing spell, was far from strong enough to take away even most of his pain.
But it had been enough to keep him alive long enough for the helicopter reached the Shinra Building, and the help that awaited him there. The last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness was those large, innocent green eyes looking at him with an expression he'd never seen before. It wasn't hate, or contempt, or fear, or even pity. It was compassion, pure and simple.
Disclaimer - Reno, unfortunately, isn't mine. Neither is anything else Final Fantasy VII related I've used here. The plot is mine, however.
Author's Notes - Well, I wasn't intending this chapter to end like this, but it really wanted to, so I had to comply. It seems to work, though, and while the flashback wasn't entirely necessary, again it seemed to fit, so I put it in. And we do in fact have Midgar this chapter. It only took me thirteen chapters to achieve it.
And it's not that I'm aiming to make Reno miserable, it's just that by the nature of the whole storyline I have in mind, it's bound to happen. I have many things planned, and would you believe I haven't actually reached the section of the story which was my original central purpose for the story? Lets say there's multiple purposes now, and I wonder how many more will accidentally get added in as I continue to write.
I will, of course, try not to be so long with the next chapter...