Chapter III

Elena lay sprawled on the bed, limbs askew, her breath coming in short gasps. Her eyes were glassy and an unhealthy flush had settled on her cheeks. Summoning forth the little energy she had left, she forced her aching throat muscles to project her weak request.

"I want....I want...chicken noodle..." she rasped to a tall black man at her side. He looked pained at her demand. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, he licked his lips and said,"...We don't have any more."

The blonde woman's eyes became spheres of flame, and the man took a step back, fully aware he had unleashed her wrath.

"What do you mean we don't have any?!" she shrieked as loud as she could, which was barely above a whisper, yet still effective.

"...We just don't."

"Then go and get some, Rude! I'm practically dying here! I'm burning up with fever! All I ask for was some lousy soup and you can't even do that?!" She ended her rant with a soprano screech.

And the fluffed pillows every fifteen minutes, the special tea that takes an hour to make, the sandwiches cut into tiny squares so you don't have to chew them....

"Are you even listening?" Elena struggled to sit up, prepared to give him a full lecture. Rude mentally winced, recalling her previous verbal lashings. "...I'll get more as soon as Reno gets back. He went out on a job, he should be back with some money soon."

Elena's mouth snapped shut, and, evidently satisfied, she layed back down with a sigh and closed her eyes. "He better, or I'll..." she began to mumble, but the outburst seemed to have drained the little energy she had and she now slept. It was amazing how she could keep an angelic appearance in sleep, yet be such a dragon any other time.

Life was not treating the former Turks well. After ShinRa was destroyed, the three had lost everything: not only their jobs, but their homes, their friends, and most importantly, their reputation.

"It's a sad time we live in when no one wants a hit carried out," remarked Reno one bitter afternoon. "I'm glad Tseng isn't here to see this." That remark had left the trio silent for some time. In the end, however, they all agreed. Yes, it was better Tseng hadn't lived to see these bitter days of reconstruction and, God forbid, peace.

Finding that they truly had hit the bottom, the Turks clung to the last thing they had: eachother. And life was fine for awhile, despite Reno's constant whoring, (or turning on his charm, as he called it) Rude's lack of communication, and Elena's temper. But money was tight, tensions were high, and Elena had fallen ill. Unless something came along...no, that couldn't happen to them. Not to the Turks.

A door slammed, rousing Rude from his thoughts. He leaned forward in his chair, catching a glimpse of a very disgruntled Reno. The man stomped into the room, his expression sulky, marred by fresh scratches across his nose and cheeks. Tufts of hair shot up at odd angles, and his shirt somehow managed to look even more dishevled than before.

"Don't. Say. Anything," he warned, his bright eyes snapping. Remembering who he was talking to, Reno shook his head at his own foolishness. Rude continued to stare.

"Alright! I'll tell you! Stop undressing me with your eyes already." Reno collapsed into a nearby chair and kicked his feet up onto the table. He explained his ill fated job, finishing with an exasperated sigh. "After I coaxed the cat out of the tree, the old nut job tried to catch it and it went insane. I think it's halo was too tight. I got caught in the crossfire; damn thing did its own rendition of Rapunzel. Guess who played the lead." Reno rolled his head back, staring at the broken ceiling. "And to top it all...she paid me fifteen dollars. Fifteen! Oh, and this-" he reached into his pockets and removed handfuls of cookies, all decorated with cheerful icing and smiley faces. "I suppose we're all set for food tonight," he grimaced.

"...Elena wants soup." Rude spoke finally. His voice was flat, yet his friend could tell he was hiding his amusement. It was hard to tell when the man was happy or sad by his expression; to understand Rude, one needed to grow accustomed to his cryptic body language.

The red head rolled his eyes. "And God forbid she go without her soup." He half rolled, half flipped out of the chair, eyes bright as ever. Reno was a ball of energy and rarely ever tired. "I'll go. I'd rather not be here when she wakes." He sensed Rude agreed on that and grinned wolfishly.

He pulled a cigarette from his icing encrusted pocket, flicking away pink swirls with distaste, and lipped it. Skillfully, he flipped out a zippo lighter and briefly waved it under the tip until the flame crackled to life. Rude glared at him and he sighed. "Alright, no smoking in the house," he said with the cigarette still between his teeth. He turned to go when Rude cleared his throat. Throwing up his hands in defeat, he tossed him the zippo. "It was almost empty anyway. Get a better lighter next time."

Sticking his hands in his pockets, he was halfway out the door when he stopped. Disgust marked his face as Reno pulled out icing covered hands and several more smooshed cookies.

Finally got off my lazy bum and updated! I apologize, I know I've been slacking for a little while (more like a few months, actually) and for awhile I debated whether to continue or not, but I have to torture Reno a bit more before I call it quits. He's such a fun subject, too bad he doesn't get more recognition.

Was Rude black? O.o I debated over this for awhile, considering he looks more...hispanic? in the Advent Children trailers. Well, he is now.

Thanks for all the great reviews guys, I do appreciate it!