Note from the Author: Prepare for a long one, and just a little explanation
before you begin. In regards to the way I address Mr. Strife, Cloud sir,
and chocobo head, I just want to clarify my use of "ex-SOLDIER". This may
be confusing to some because I have stressed a few times that Cloud was
never in SOLDIER. He knows it, admits it, and still thinks of himself like
it. That presence of mind hasn't left with all that's happened, so I
continue to let himself to refer to his person as "ex-SOLDIER". Got it? Now
grab a pillow because your ass will get numb before the end.
Many Moons, by Moira
Chapter 7, Drinking Games
Never in his life had Cloud Strife felt as unprepared for the future as he did now. His earlier days in AVALANCHE hadn't exactly been rife with difficult decisions. He had done it for the money, and that had been that. Things had been marked by a certain distance, and he hadn't encouraged more, but the end of the world had a way of changing people. Or at least altering the way they saw things. Aeris had taught him that, as had every one of his friends.
He had found it easier to function within a set realm of small alternatives. Like leadership or direction. Content to let Barrett make the orders and Tifa to give him a track to follow, like a good little mercenary. In those days things had been almost absurdly simple. It was as if the memories of his emotions or thoughts were only two-dimensional. Though, of course, Cloud Strife had enough large gaping holes in his memory to ride the Highwind through with Cait Sith at the helm.
Five years were still gone. Five years where all he remembered with any certainty was a dark-haired man with bright blue eyes talking him out of darkness time and time again. Those whispered, practically one-sided conversations had been a lifeline, his hope. Zax and his unfaltering optimism.
And now? Now when he finally had time to explore his past more thoroughly and put things in order, he found that he was reluctant. And afraid. Afraid of knowing. Zax would be angry if he knew. He had always told Cloud that understanding wasn't the hardest part, it was accepting and then acting true to yourself. Only now that he was beginning to understand he didn't want to go further. He had a bad feeling about himself and his past. The worry sat in his stomach like a wet stone; sides being rubbed smooth till it had no shape, no definition.
Reno's little insight after the Zolom fight had bothered the hell out of him too. He didn't want to admit it, but it spooked him. Not the snide opinion of his leadership style, as if that Turk had any rights to pass judgment, but the last part.
/"...there's no rest for us huh? Some of us just like to fight. Am I right?"/
For someone doubting his own character in the wake of peace it was a dry morsel to swallow. Though why he might have anything in common with the redhead seemed just as fathomless as the sea.
"Asshole." Cloud grated through a tightly clenched jaw. "What do you know?"
He limped steadily on through the broad main street of Junon, hand trailing over the steel railing that protected against a hundred foot drop to the sea. The sun was brilliant overhead and it warmed his skin even through the leather shoulder gear he wore. He met no resistance on the street in spite of the fine weather though. People weren't exactly numerous today, but one look at his face sent many on their business with a quicker step and out of the blond ex-SOLDIER's way. As it were that suited him fine. He wasn't planning on being sociable until after a shower, some food, and a little self-medication in the form of alcohol anyway.
The leg ached something awful as he crossed the avenue and moved past the upper-level street shops. He gave the buildings a cursory look and walked gingerly to a narrow opening that he knew led to the lower levels. As he passed through he had to adjust his sword into an upright position lest it scrape along the bricks.
Down a set of stairs, over a catwalk and then another spiraling flight of steps until he was on the second level of Junon city. He paused there at the bottom and wiped a sudden outbreak of perspiration off his brow. Most of his hair still pointed skyward with a stubborn tenacity, but the bangs were matted to his forehead and got in his eyes. Pulling off a glove he tucked the ends carefully behind his ears and made a mental note to have Tifa cut them when he returned. She had to cut his hair regularly as it threatened to grow feet within a few months time, and she seemed to enjoy it. At least she did a better job of it than he. Cloud wasn't so particular to style (as if he could get it to do anything but stick straight up anyway) that he was against taking a knife to it on occasion. She /really/ didn't like that.
With a shake of the head and another adjustment to the sword, Cloud limped to the front of a non-descript building with green shutters. He could almost see the metal beams crisscrossing underneath the plaster, acting like a fallout support. All buildings in Junon were reinforced with steel frames, and it was because of the city's structural design that Weapon's attack hadn't collapsed the whole town. Only the casing of the gun platform and Sister Ray cannon had been damaged. Plenty of death to go around anyway, but it could have been worse. It could have been like Midgar.
Cloud frowned as he took in the buildings on either side of the Inn. He could see the bar Reno had indicated to the left. It was a squat establishment shaped roughly like a horseshoe. There were two levels, but lights were only on below. The sign, lettered with silver on matte black read, 'Lazarus Pit'. In and out of the swinging doors people came like a parade of brightly colored birds, each outfit more eye watering than the next.
The shop to the right sold ammunition. Cloud had been there before, or so he thought. It had three levels, though the shop seemed only to occupy the ground floor. He would need to stop there later to ask about the latest artillery and explosives. While he didn't use guns very often, Barrett had sent him with a list and a mail order for the supplies to be shipped to North Corel. The big black man had requested ammunition, another drill arm, and dynamite to help with the renovation of his hometown. Seemed like Meteor had at least been good for the construction business.
Tearing his eyes away from a bar customer wearing a garish orange pantsuit that screamed for an early death, Cloud proceeded to the inn grimly. He passed through the front doors and thought he heard a series of faint clicks like tumblers in a lock. Muttering a long string of commands under his breath he continued in. Ignoring what he took to be a security check system similar to the kind Midgar had used for the trains, Cloud approached desk located at the rear of the lobby. Desk or armored cube, he really couldn't decide. It was a dark blue metal counter, jointed into an L-shape that enclosed the man within like a fortress. Huge squares of what was probably bulletproof glass rose from counter-top to ceiling. There was a small revolving circle beneath a half moon cut into the barrier, and also a cred machine worked into the structure. No paintings or decorations adorned the gray walls, but a small potted plant (also inside the barrier) rested on a corner of the desk. All very neat and functional. He didn't like it.
As he studied the imposing structure he also saw a small sticker, peeling and shiny, stuck to the outside. Even with his enhanced vision it was difficult to read, but if he squinted just so…
"Smile," it read. "Because if you can read this then you're in range of some really nasty hardware."
Cloud was sure Barrett would have appreciated the sentiment if not the actual weaponry aimed at his person. Ignoring the faint whirl of machinery that followed him as he walked to the desk Cloud put a gloved hand to the glass and tapped.
"I'd like a room for the night."
The man behind the counter drew his attention away from a magazine and peered at him through watery blue eyes. He was unshaven, pale as a fish belly, and looked about as interested in customers as only the truly bored can. He stared openly at Cloud, the eyes getting more opaque as they noticed the shredded clothing, dirty countenance and obvious lack of anything worth anything.
"We don't do handouts," he said finally.
Cloud sucked in an angry breath.
"I didn't ask for a handout I want a room."
The pale blue eyes flicked back to the magazine. "We're full."
"Bullshit! What is this? Do you always give customers a hard time?"
The man turned away. "You're not a customer. Go back to whatever hole you slept in last night."
Cloud made a mental count to ten and then fished out a handful of gil. "I have enough for three nights here. I only want one."
The man behind the counter had picked up his magazine and was reading again. He turned the page, and then another. Cloud was clearly dismissed.
"Alright," Cloud said, his voice low and calm. "Maybe I can make my point another way."
The man didn't look up, but the blue eyes stopped moving over the article.
"If you're thinking of threatening me then you're really off your chocobo. This glass is bulletproof, casting proof, and can't be opened without a key. Someone is also aiming a lot of guns at you as we speak."
Cloud smiled a little smile.
The man turned away and began picking something out of his teeth, completely unconcerned. There was a soft 'whump' as a bag was set down. A methodical 'click' 'click' 'click' of a harness being removed. The sound of teeth setting into a particularly hard smile and then air being cut as a massive piece of weaponry traveled at high speeds towards the frontmost window
/'TINK'/
Bemused the man turned around at the sound, turned and saw about a foot of tempered metal just inches from his collar bone. He stopped in his quest to remove a piece of lettuce from between his front teeth and stared hard. From behind the glass on the business side, Cloud was braced at a right angle, his gloved hands tight on the handle. Multicolored stones gleamed under the fluorescent light.
"You see those two pink ones at the end of the handle?" He asked the man, indicating the rearmost material.
A nod was the tense reply.
"Those two enhance my strength and up my HP. This one," he said indicating a yellow orb a bit further up, "Let's me do what I'm going to do next."
The man gave another nod, his cheek twitching slightly as he took an uneven breath.
"But it's wedged! You can't go in any farther! You can't reach me!"
Cloud, mako eyes brilliant under wild hair, only smirked.
"Who said I was aiming for you?"
The ex-SOLDIER gave a sharp twist of the handle and the edge of the blade snapped 180 degrees as the Double Cut material flared brightly. Glass shattered under the movement in a short but thunderous tide. It collapsed all four sides of the office barrier and the small space filled with the pieces. Withdrawing his sword Cloud got up on his toes and leaned over the edge.
"Now I can reach you."
The man was crouched on the floor, hands clapped over his ears. He looked up at the sword resting casually over one armored shoulder and took a moment to consider life. It seemed he was rather attached to it. His hand edged out under Cloud's watchful eyes and punched a knob on one of the cabinet shelves. The door popped open and when his hand retracted from inside it had a key.
"Was that so hard?" Cloud asked.
"Perhaps you had better just back off kid," a voice said from behind. There was a 'click'.
Cloud turned his head slightly.
"Manager? SOLDIER?" He asked of the man who had suddenly appeared next to him, the barrel of a shotgun aimed slightly over one ear. From his peripheral vision he could only make out the barrel and two fingers. Cloud raised his empty hand and backed slowly away from the desk.
There was a grunt that sounded somewhere between incredulity and amusement. Cloud repeated his question.
"Owner," a man's voice replied, deep like a bass instrument. "And ex- SOLDIER. 2nd class."
Cloud almost nodded but remained still.
"And you? I don't know you, but something tells me you are not just a vandal and a hothead. Turn around and let me see your face."
So he did, and in turn saw a large man, deep-chested with ropes of muscle still cording his arms despite his age, which Cloud guessed to be mid- fifties. Salt and pepper hair was thick and cut above the ears. The man had a large handle bar mustache and light brown eyes. He frowned as he studied Cloud. Cloud supposed he didn't paint a very pretty picture.
The big man looked him up and down, sucking on piano key sized front teeth as he thought.
"You're eyes say you're SOLDIER," he said finally. "But no SOLDIER uses a sword."
"It's been known to happen," Cloud replied, thinking of the Buster sword's original owner.
"Not unless you're Sephiroth, and since you seem about nine inches too short and haven't killed me yet I think it's safe to say you're not."
Cloud quirked a blond eyebrow at him and looked pointedly at the gun.
"That's not standard issue either."
The man beamed and the mustache ends quivered as if he'd been waiting his whole life for someone to notice.
"Had it special ordered from Midgar two years ago before Meteor."
Cloud clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
"Looks like it has kick."
"Like a bitch, but I ordered it that way."
"Range about two hundred yards?"
"Two-Fifty."
"Bet the additional two loaders, scatter shot option and grenade launcher cost you a fortune."
The man grinned again like a boy on holiday.
"Damn straight it did. You haven't even commented on the materia slots."
"Materia adage on firearms can cause jams. Especially with any castings over level 2."
The large mustache twitched.
"That's why I only installed Independent materia. HP and Pre-emptive. And that's how I got the drop on you. Were you surprised?"
Cloud smiled faintly and gestured with his empty hand at the material slots on the shotgun. The usually bright orbs were duller somehow, like a light shaded by cloth. The man frowned at the weapon.
"What did you…?"
The blond inclined his head towards the Crystal bangle on his wrist. The bracelet had three stones embedded in it.
"Actually, you got the drop on me because I just wasn't paying attention. The bases are still covered though."
"But I'm here now, even if my materia didn't work."
Cloud shook his head. "I cast 'Contain' right after I got in here. My own pre-emptive would have cancelled yours out anyway, but I think the Added Effect of Lightning is going to cause you the most problems."
To Cloud's surprise the man burst out laughing, the broad shoulders shaking with the booming guffaws.
"You sly bastard! Who are you boy? Better yet, what rank are you? First class?"
Something dark flitted across Cloud's eyes.
"No," he said at length as the laughter died away to chuckles. "No. I was never in SOLDIER."
Light brown eyes showed surprise and not just a little suspicion.
"Well, there's no way you're Wutainese. Not with those blue eyes and that hair of yours. Maybe part chocobo with that mop, but if you didn't learn it from them then you have to be ShinRa trained. What's your rank boy? I may be old but I'm not stupid."
The blond sighed and lowered his hands. He walked back over to his bag and picked up the harness. Reassembling the straps across his shoulders and back, he sheathed the sword and picked up the knapsack. Walking back to the counter he leaned over and plucked the keys from the clerk's outstretched hand. The man still hadn't moved from his crouched position, but the watery eyes took turns peering over the counter and darting to a door in the back. Cloud gave a derisive snort and withdrew, his path taking him back to the owner.
The owner, shotgun now pointing south and cradled in the crook of one elbow watched him without comment.
"I'm sorry about the mess," Cloud said apologetically.
"I was the one handling the outside guns," the owner said. "The security cameras gave me a pretty good idea who's fault it was. It'll be coming out of his salary," he added, indicating the retreating form of the clerk who was furtively exiting through the door he had been eyeing earlier.
"But young man, you WILL curb your temper while in my inn. Do you understand me?"
"Yes sir."
"And son,"
Cloud paused.
"What's your name? I'm called Barson."
"Cloud. Cloud Strife."
The big man nodded. "Cloud Strife it is. I'll be sending up fresh towels along with something to eat. You look like you could use it."
Cloud grimaced. "Any chance you have a sewing kit handy as well?"
"Sure thing."
"I appreciate it."
"Just pay your bill and keep that sword in its holder and we won't have any misunderstandings."
"Got it," Cloud said and picked his way gingerly through the littered glass to the lift. The man watched him go and when the shape of the big sword had retreated from sight he blew a relieved breath that ruffled his mustache.
"Well then. What to do about this?" He said aloud, though it wasn't clear whether or not he was talking about the mess or mako-eyed disasters.
*************
Hot water beat against his face and streamed down into ears as he tilted his head back to let the moisture hit him full on. Through the closed lids of his eyes he could see a soft nimbus of light like a halo and underneath his hands square shaped tiles made grooved impressions into the skin. Ducking his head he braced both palms on the wall in front and let the liquid wash the dried blood from his back and take off everything Zolom related with it. It felt so good to be clean. With a toss of the head the wet tail of red hair flipped over a shoulder, the end so saturated with water that the color was like fresh blood replacing what he had rinsed off. He pressed his forehead against the tiles and stayed that way for a long time.
"I don't want to be here," he murmured.
"Then where else?" said a familiar voice.
Reno sighed. "I don't know."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know!"
"S'not like you to be so uncertain."
"Things have changed."
"You never woulda swallowed an order from anyone else before you gave up the spot. Never woulda put up with a guy like /him/."
"He's going the same way I am."
"Like in the head?"
"…"
"Where's your pride Reno?"
"I left it in Midgar."
"Where we are."
"Yes," Reno said softly, touching the scar on his cheek. "Where you both are."
* * * * * * * *
Upon locating his room on the second floor Cloud took little time to dump his belongings on the small single bed. He sat on the edge, massaging the knot in the small of his back and inspecting bandages. They itched like crazy under the gauze, but that was a good sign. It meant they were healing. He smiled thinly. With the cells in his body from JENOVA and the SOLDIER make-up, he was a quick healer indeed.
Just as he was beginning to stand up a small knock at the door told him the towels and food were here. He accepted two fluffy green towels, a covered plate, and a small sewing kit from a young porter. Cloud gave him some gil and the boy palmed it without comment. Returning to his bedside Cloud reflected that he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours (a body couldn't really count Zolom now could they?) and he was starving. With a glance at the plate and then the bathroom door he knew a shower would have to come first. He could hardly stand the smell of himself.
One of the fluffy towels tucked under his arm he stepped into an economical bathroom with a small shower and blue mats. With the toilet tucked unobtrusively in one corner, a stall unit shower and a sink with a square mirror, it was a wonder that guests larger than himself could fit at all. Barrett certainly would have problems and even Vincent at 6'2" would find the accommodations somewhat coffin like.
"And he might like that," Cloud reflected with a thoughtful incline of the head. His teammates were always on his mind in one way or another these days. He folded the towels on the toilet (hooks were apparently not part of the room deal) and stripped bare of his ravaged outfit. In some places he had to peel it forcibly off his skin because of blood, maybe his, maybe the Zolom's. Rips and tears made a map of damage on the purple turtleneck and pants that he wasn't sure he could fix himself. Maybe he would send it to Tifa and see what she could do, or get a shopkeeper to repair it. Those garments had been bequeathed to him by someone dear and he meant to hold onto every scrap.
From behind the closed door he heard his PHS ringing. Thinking it might be Reno he padded out of the bathroom in his skin, bare feet silent on the wood floor.
"Cloud here."
"Hiya Spike, how's it going?"
"Yuffie?" He was surprised. Why on earth would she be calling him? If this was another crank call…
"Not happy to hear from me?" Her voice sounded petulant, but not as downright whiny as it had when they first met. She had changed over the past year. He had seen her last summer when AVALANCHE members had met up for dinner and a reunion. She was a little taller now, though below his height still. Her hair had also been allowed to grow out from the short bob she normally kept in, though most times she wore it up anyway. As for habits, Cloud still kept his materia in a secure place when near her sticky fingers. He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.
"Guess what?"
Cloud hesitated, not liking the conspiratorial tone.
"What," he asked warily.
"I can see you!" She said gleefully.
If Cloud's enemies thought his attacks were fast, his ability to wrap himself in bedcovers was nothing short of inhuman.
"Yuffie!" He hissed. "What are you doing?!"
She laughed so loud Cloud thought the transceiver would break.
"A joke! A joke! I'm in Wutai idiot. What are you doing that I shouldn't see?"
His face underwent a change of about six shades of red.
"Never you mind brat. What do you want anyway?"
"Jeez…I was just calling to say hi."
"Riiiiight. What else Yuffie?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line as Yuffie thought about how best to drop the bomb. She decided on,
"Wutai is going to war."
Cloud gaped and the bedcovers slipped over his shoulders. "What?!"
The ninja girl's answer came across as a high-pitched babble with no pauses to separate words.
"WellyouseebecauseMidgarisinsuchbadshapeandShinRaisgonemyfatherthinksit'sbes ttomovenowandcrushtheremains. Andsinceyou'refriendswithReeveandaresortstheleaderIthoughtyoumighttalktomyda d…"
It took a few minutes to translate and process the information. AVALANCHE's leader flopped back onto the bed.
"Yuffie…This is a really bad time. And what do mean 'I'm the leader'? AVALANCHE isn't any sort of government and I'm not in charge anymore."
"Well, you beat Sephiroth. I guess that makes you the general."
"What?! I'm not the general of anything, and why don't /you/ go talk to your father?"
Yuffie took a minute to answer.
"He expects me to help him to lead them. I'm going to be the next ruler of Wutai. I have to think of their interests."
Cloud pinched the bridge of his nose as a familiar headache began returning and fought off the urge to grind his teeth.
"Listen to me Yuffie. You need to make a decision here. Do you really think this war is the right thing? Midgar is a city in pieces. Any leftover SOLDIERs, basic troops or ShinRa personnel aren't going to be hanging out waiting for orders. Reeve can't even keep the power running on a regular schedule. Attacking Midgar is like flogging a dead chocobo. It's pointless. Rufus is dead and there is no ShinRa left to tell anyone what to do."
"Then you don't know about the plants?"
"What?"
"Three of them are going again."
Cloud sat upright, knuckles white against the black plastic of the PHS.
"Impossible. They were all shut down months ago. When did this happen? Who restarted them?!"
"Whoa whoa! It was only a few days ago. And no one as far as we can tell for two of them. They just up and began pouring mako energy into the batteries. The latest one though is definitely ShinRa."
"How? Reeve would never."
"We've had reports of SOLDIER activity and that woman from the weapons division is there."
"Scarlett?"
"Yeah that's the bitch." Yuffie also muttered something that Cloud couldn't quite make out, but it sounded distinctly like "whore".
He bit his lip. "I'm kinda in the middle of something right now, but I could check out that plant on my way back…"
"What are you doing now? Does this mean you won't talk to my dad?"
"I'm on my way to Nibelheim with a Turk in tow. There's something I have to get from the mansion."
"Are you going with Reno?!" She squealed.
"…yes. He's on business for Reeve there."
She howled with laughter and Cloud entertained himself with thoughts of violence against small ninjas.
"Wait," she said, a bit breathless. "What about my dad? He wants to move soon."
"Tell Godo that I'm going to check it out after Nibelheim. Tell him I'm going to need at least a week."
"I can't! He expects me to-"
"Yuffie," Cloud growled. "You need to do what you believe in and tell him what you think. You've never had problems talking back to him before."
"That's because I never noticed how old he's getting. Cloud…I'll have to take over soon. I don't want to, but I do…"
"Then you need to establish now what you intend to do with your rule. You do that and you get me one week before Wutai moves. Even if you can't sway Godo you get me that one week!"
There was silence on the other end of the line, but she came back on with a little more bite to her voice.
"One week Cloud Strife! I expect you here in one week!"
"Right. Right. I have to go Yuffie, but tell me, what plants are operational?"
"Um…Condor is running, and so is Mideel's mako spring. The one we have reports of ShinRa at is the plant at Gongaga."
Cloud's mouth dried slightly. He swallowed painfully and asked Yuffie for Godo's private number in case he had to call.
"Be sure of yourself Yuffie," he told her.
"And you get your spikey butt here in time! Oh, and tell Reno I said hi. Good luck on whatever it is you're doing."
Cloud snorted.
"And, hey, Cloud?"
"Yeah?"
"I was only kidding. I'm not in Wutai, I'm close enough to throw the Conformer at you!"
He dove back into the covers and yelled, "Yuffie!"
She hung up with a laugh.
**************
Fresh off his epiphany Rufus took off across the wasteland that served as his here and now. There were no guideposts or any defining landmarks yet, but he headed unerringly in a straight line towards what he had designated 'north'. There was a pulling sort of sensation from that direction that told him he was nearing something, and it grew stronger and stronger as he walked on.
The second attempt at 'recalling' something earned him a slight headache and his watch back. He focused on the face of the mako powered instrument and concentrated hard. The hands moved to 12 o'clock and from that point on began ticking off the seconds, and then minutes and finally hours as he walked. As the hands approached three he began to notice changes in the landscape. Rocky outcroppings began to appear in piles as well as other debris. The more distance he traveled, the more heaps of wreckage became visible. It was as if a great city had stood there once and all that remained were fragments of ancient buildings. The ache in his legs and jaw from clenching were more evidence that this was no dream.
This new land, not entirely unlike the previous muted territory excepting physical obstructions, was similarly bland in terms of color and variety. The crumbled shape of derelict buildings grew larger and actual edifices stood here and there. He quickly withdrew into alcoved areas, not sure about inhabitants, or the gut feeling that was telling him to remain out of sight. In and out of fallen walls and roofless structures he moved on. Ahead of him, in the general direction he had been heading, was an impossibly long stretch of gutted edifices, like those he passed through now. It was as if the designer of this world had only two ideas, neither good, and was colorblind. At times though, he also thought they seemed vaguely reminiscent of places he had seen or visited, but unless the world had been reduced to dust by Meteor and collected here, he didn't think it a possibility. In fact, one of the things he was certain of, was that Meteor had been averted. Wherever he was now had no bearing on the real world.
Just as that thought crossed his mind he saw a flicker of movement and then it was gone. He paused and waited, but it didn't show itself. Cautiously he backtracked out of the building and went another way around. Edging along a fairly high portion of wall he made it to a window that looked out over an open area with only knee-high rubble. He got up right next to the sill and without exposing his head looked out as far as possible in his peripheral vision. There was movement again, but this time he saw it was a woman. Only, this woman was taller than most men, had luminescent eyes and pulsated with green. He whipped back behind the relative safety of the wall. He felt…? He felt so cold for a second that he thought his heart would become brittle and break. Who was she? What was she?
A sound, like quickly moving footsteps sounded somewhere ahead and to the left, which was into the courtyard where the woman had been. He risked another peek through the window and saw a man this time, sweaty and gray. The man was dressed like an office clerk, similar to one of the hundreds of employees he had once had working for him in Midgar. His breath was uneven and the look in his eyes was confused. Short brown hair was matted to his forehead and the cuff of one sleeve was missing, as was the arm…
Rufus sucked in air through clenched teeth as the wave of cold hit him again. The woman had come back into view and the man was looking at her with a mixture of fear and hope.
"You're alive!" The man said. "Oh, you have to help me…my arm…I can't find my arm…"
"Alive? No, not that." He thought he heard her say.
The woman walked towards the man slowly, her face breaking into a sorrowful expression, eyes narrow with emotion. Her black hair hung low to her back and swayed as she glided to him on what Rufus saw were bare feet.
"I can't help you with that," she intoned in a low voice. "I can't repair the damage." She drew up her arms as if to ward off the cold that Rufus felt seeping into his skin like a wet vise. The man ran up to meet her halfway and clutched her shoulder with his remaining hand.
"It took my arm!" he moaned. "It took my arm and I can't find it."
The woman, instead of backing away in revulsion drew the man in close and pressed his head into her shoulder.
"I know. I'm sorry. We don't know what they are, and we cannot seem to send them back. But you, you should not be here either."
"Where am I?" He cried. "Where is here?! I woke up and I was, I mean…these things…"
"Hush," the woman commanded. "We are trying our best to send people back, but something is wrong. There is something blocking the way. The planet will not listen!"
She closed her eyes and began incredibly to hum. Rufus watched as she seemed to concentrate. The atmosphere grew thick with dryness and a pressing force that reminded Rufus of a Gravity spell. He choked as the air grew solid around him and slid down the wall until he was sitting. Buildings seemed to shimmer into view like a distorted reflection. The woman tilted her head back and called out something in a language that was not quite speech. Something seemed to answer but it was similarly distorted. She cried out again in frustration and the air thundered with the effort. Both the man and the woman vanished in a haze of cold wind. Rufus remained sitting and shivering into the collar of his white jacket.
After some time had passed he got back to his feet and leaned heavily against the wall. The raw speculation on his new non-life had just been thrown into a whole new set of variables. Between dying and ending up here, he reflected, there had hardly been a pause. Not something one could readily identify anyway. He had no recollection of white light or hellish fire, but there was a distinct impression a green similar to the woman's eyes. As colors did little to serve for memories though, he moved on to the fact that despite being dead he had quite a few things to work with. One, he could do something with the material here. His watch had been an effort, but he thought with a little more practice he might even produce a car in the end. Two, he had a direction. Albeit, he had no idea where it was that he was heading, he just knew it was somewhere important. Three, he now knew that there were others here. Of the woman he could only speculate, but the man had definitely been human. A normal human being. With his arm gone… And so creatures then. Or something hostile. He thought back to the movement he had spied earlier and wondered if it had been the woman or the man. Somehow he didn't think so. It was time to find somewhere to rest and work some things out.
He walked around for another half hour doing his best to stay out of sight and make as little noise possible. The man's missing arm kept coming back into his thoughts with such a strong insistence that he knew he wouldn't feel safe until he managed to 'think' up his shotgun. Or at least pick up a few rocks to throw. He scoured the area until he had an armful of fist sized chunks of what appeared to be marble and took them to a building he had found with three intact levels. Climbing up was a chore with the rocks, but he removed his jacket and wrapped them with that, securing the bundle to his back with the sleeves and coat tails. Once he was on the highest floor he had a commanding view of the land and knew that if anything moved within his immediate area he would be able to see it and have time to do something about it.
Squirreled away in his chosen corner he methodically stacked up the stones until he had ammunition within easy reach. When there was nothing left to arrange and he had a capable defense he used one sleeve of his jacket to scrub the dust from his brow and wiped both hands clean. He also took the time to clean under each fingernail and scrub through his hair once or twice. With a close eye on the open space left uncovered in his shelter he stood and stretched, and let his mind wander, scrutinizing the short passage of time for anything that might help. What he got instead were unbidden memories that rose like a flock of birds, unorganized and unstoppable once they took flight. His blue eyes grew opaque as he looked back on things that had been.
…A boy, slight and quiet stood at a window, watching as gouts of smoke and soot scudded across Midgar's skyline, staining the buildings they passed and smudging the windows with grease. He pressed his face to his own window and breathed against the pane of glass. Moist air blossomed out into a splotch roughly the size of his head. The boy continued to exhale even as he began to draw with a long finger. A square took shape within the blob, and then another, and another. Inside one another the squares became miniature windows that decreased in size until the innermost could frame nothing but reflected the boy. He drew back and absently rubbed his shoulders as if trying to comfort himself. Studying his handiwork he felt grimly satisfied, because as he had thought, there was little to see. Turning away he left the mini windows to melt into each other as they evaporated, coalescing into one head-sized mirror before it was gone altogether. His retreating back was a hazy ghost of white, almost indistinguishable from the walls and the furniture.
In the next memory the boy was older now, his red-blond hair trimmed neatly to the nape of a slender neck. Medium length bangs brushed against his eyelashes. He swept them away with the back of one hand and surveyed the meeting room. Every head of department was there, with secretaries in tow and nervous looking clerks handling thick stacks of files. His father sat impassively at the head of the table, one arm bridged under his wide face and mass of chins. He too was watchful and his brown eyes darted from face to face as they entered. Rufus followed suit and went over their names and histories as dispassionately as a machine.
Heidigger was an obscenely obese man. He was tidily dressed though. Surprise there. Sweat beaded on his brow and the rubbery lips pressed together in discomfort. Here was someone who didn't want to be there.
"Well that makes two of us," Rufus had thought blandly.
The head of the Resource Department came next. Reeve was possibly the youngest of the group. At thirty he was an average looking man with intelligent brown eyes. There was a quality about him that bothered Rufus greatly, but he couldn't put a name to it. The head of the Resource Department seemed about as misplaced as a chess piece in a game of stones. His father trusted Reeve implacably. This he knew, and therefore did not trust the man one bit.
Scarlett then entered languidly and with all the time in the world. Today she was wearing a dark blue Wutainese dress, with a silver phoenix trailing feathers up her thigh. Stiletto heels made her inches taller than any man in the room, and there were lacquered pins holding up her dyed hair. Rufus thought he recognized the hair accessories from a weapons catalogue the office had put out a few weeks previous. Despite her false exterior, and perfectly clipped language, Rufus felt that at least she, out of the whole bunch was worth keeping. Perhaps because he held absolutely no interest in her physical appearance, he recognized the intelligence, or at least necessity of her act. He knew a lot about the people his father had hired and Scarlett had the qualities he was looking for in someone to head up a project he had in mind. A project that might be insurance one day. Insurance against fools and fate…
The memory faded and he came back to himself. Slowly, deliberately, Rufus opened his eyes and looked around the bleak space that served the reality of now.
"It's not the way I pictured Hell at all," he muttered.
It was a funny thing, that. He had no doubts about where he would end up. Hell was just one more appointment in his weekly planner. At one point, on a very trying day, he even had his secretary mark 'Hell' as his final board meeting. He doubted she appreciated the irony of it because that very afternoon /had/ marked his last meeting. He remembered looking out the window as the vortex of energy from Diamond Weapon shot towards the heart of an empire; recalled the feel of the glass as he placed a hand against it and waited for the end. White light, then blue, and then nothing. He could only recollect at that point that he had not been afraid, or regretful. Just disappointed that it should end so predictably, and simultaneously pleased with himself for planning ahead. Death wasn't something Rufus ShinRa was ready to bow before. Not yet, not yet.
*******************
Reno stepped out of the shower and into a fresh suit thoughtfully provided by Mina, who gave him an appraising look as he stood defenseless in a towel. He dressed quickly and yanked his hair back into its customary tail. Sunglasses hid the shadows underneath his eyes and he reentered the bar feeling about half alive, half dead from lack of sleep and running.
Jaz was manning the bar by herself, literally tossing drinks at people who pushed her too far. She saw him and gestured to an empty table in one corner. He sat back against the wall and watched the crowd until Mina reappeared with a plate of food. It was plain, but filling, and it took the edge off of his shakes. He ordered a drink and pulled the PHS from his pocket.
It took almost twelve rings for Strife to pick up his end. When he actually spoke the first thing he did was yell,
"Yuffie! Stop calling or I'm going to take the Conformer and shove it so far up-"
Reno bellowed into the receiver overriding whatever the blond had been about to finish saying.
"Hey Strife. If you and your girlfriend want to talk dirty then fucking TALK TO HER!"
Reno clicked off the PHS and fished out a cigarette. This was going to be a pleasant evening. He could already tell.
The PHS rang. Reno snapped it up.
"This is 1-800-Not-Your-Fucking-Girlfriend so get it right."
The pause on the other was heavy with deliberation.
"Reno… What the hell have you been drinking?" Rude's deep voice asked, concerned.
"Aw Shiva," Reno pressed a hand to his forehead and rocked back in the chair. "Sorry man. Thought you were someone else."
Rude's lack of reply to this made Reno bite the end of his cigarette off.
"So, where are you guys?"
Rude's voice came in with a background of static. "We're at Gold Saucer right now. We still have to get up to Glacier Town, but the chopper isn't going to be able to pass the high winds once we get to Bone Village. We're taking chocobos the rest of the way from there. Reeve called to say he wanted us to drop off the Junon base report to you in Costa del Sol."
Reno spit out the ruined cigarette. "Yeah, I'm on my way there now. Should be leaving on a ship in the morning. Meet in the usual place?"
"Fine, but Reno, Reeve also said that Cloud Strife is with you."
"That's right."
"Everything alright? Any trouble?"
"Oh no. Smooth sailing and all that shit."
Rude said something away from the phone's reception and Reno thought he heard a female laugh. Elena was nearby then.
"Reno. Just don't kill him."
"I won't."
"I mean it. Think of the paperwork." Rude actually sounded serious.
"Yes Mother."
"We'll see you in Costa del Sol then, and then back at headquarters in a few days. Reeve has sent us on a paper hunt. It's going to take time."
"You too? What are you looking for?"
"He wants us to scour Gast's old house. Bring back anything Cetra related. We've also got to baby-sit a bunch of researchers."
"Eggheads? Why?"
"Some of the stuff we're taking out is equipment. He wants them to catalogue it."
"Man, and I thought I had a shit job."
"The mansion?"
Reno's eyes flashed at as he recalled the typewritten report with his name stamped across the bottom like some lab animal.
"Yeah. Got a little digging of my own to do."
"And Strife?"
"He's in the same boat, but I'd still like to drown him."
"Watch out for yourself Reno. That one still has it in for you."
"I have it in for me too," the redhead said grimly.
"What? I didn't catch that. The sand storms play hell with reception out here."
"It's nothing. Tell Elena I said to check out the 3rd rotor on the chopper's engine. It sounded off last I flew."
"Right," Rude said slowly sensing the evasion. "She'll handle it. We'll catch you at the meeting place tomorrow night then."
"Yeah," was all Reno could think to say, his mind elsewhere.
"One more thing."
"Mmm?"
"If you're not in Costa del Sol when we are I'll take it as a sign that something went wrong."
"Yeah?"
"I'm worried about you Reno. You're not talking to me."
"I'm fine, just not looking forward to this is all."
"Sure. Remember though."
"I'll be there," Reno said and flicked the off button. Immediately the PHS started ringing again. He sighed.
"What?"
Cloud's voice came through clear and annoyed. "You could have said it was you."
"Not the way you were going on about your sex life."
"She's not my girlfriend Reno and there's definitely no sex involved."
"No wonder you're always in such a bad mood," the Turk countered.
If teeth grinding over a phone line sounded like anything it sounded exactly like what he was hearing now.
"Okay. Not going to get into this now. Are you at the bar?"
Mina appeared with his shot. Reno took it in one gulp and caught her before she had even begun to pick up the tray and ordered another.
"Yeah. Where the fuck are you?"
"Inn. On my way over."
"Hurry up or you'll miss happy hour."
"Wouldn't want to do that." Cloud sounded somewhat grim. Reno didn't like it.
"Just hurry up. I've been waiting a long time."
"Right." And the other line clicked off. Reno stared at the receiver for a moment before turning off his own end. That man needed a drink. Or maybe 10. He knew he certainly did.
*********************
Jaz watched Reno out of the corner of her eye while she mixed drinks and conducted business. She wasn't really sure why she had let him back in after the incident. No presidential order from Reeve would have made any difference to her. She let in who she wanted and that was that. And fighters, especially those who damaged her establishment, usually got a choice between leaving indefinitely or the business end of her shotgun. Jaz could count the number of major fights in her bar on one hand. Two of them were Reno related, though the first had been no fault of his.
Passing a tray loaded with shots to one of her wait staff Jaz took a moment to reassess the man she hadn't seen in three months.
Reno had always been distinguishable from other customers and not just because he was TURK issue. His long red pony-tail and dark uniform were always in attendance, though she had seen the length of hair plaited on one occasion. She had never seen him though, in any other clothes except his birthday suit on a handful occasions. And she honestly didn't think that counted. They went back years since he had first joined the Turks, but their brief relationship had only consisted of a mutual need for company at night. At the moment he seemed to be lacking his usual character. He looked tired and withdrawn. The Reno she knew was loud and mouthy, always getting up on tables and goosing her wait staff. When he had come into the bar there had been none of his usual forceful presence.
Reno had been in a state she'd only thought possible for street people and accident victims. Bloodied, muddied, and smelling like ozone. His eyes had also seemed wider somehow. They had been almost pupiless in a wash of luminous green; astonished or surprised at something she couldn't see, and she knew it hadn't been directed at her.
She gave a mental shrug. Whatever it was it wasn't drugs at least. If he had done anything at one time it no longer made a difference, because what the SOLDIER program did to a body's metabolism was nothing short of amazing. Even caffeine was hard pressed to make a minute difference.
Perhaps she could coax Reno back into himself with a little pick-me-up. Since Junon was essentially a military base Jaz got many SOLDIERs coming through. She had even developed a drink especially to deal with this particular side effect. She called it a 'Limit Break' with good reason, as it had hypers for a main ingredient. Ordinary troops might need medical help after one of those, but for SOLDIERs it was beverage necessity. She herself had one every morning, and thought Reno could use one as well.
Leaning on the counter, blithely ignoring drink orders for the moment, Jaz reflected that she wasn't so much as mad for him showing up, but for not showing up sooner. Reno wasn't a keeper, and she understood that, but she worried that one day he might just stop showing up. Ever. Turks weren't known for retirering.
The way he sat, eyes hidden behind shades, shoulders hunched and paler than seemed healthy, bothered her. A worried Reno was not something she was accustomed to dealing with. Suddenly though, his head perked up and the slouch disappeared. A sly smile crept over his face that left her wondering if she had misjudged his mood. Whoever he had been a minute ago he was certainly Reno Delaney now, crumpled cigarette already lit and positioned to one side.
She followed his gaze across the room and picked out the source of his interest.
There was a man entering the bar with wild blond hair that added inches to a medium sized stature.
He was obviously a mercenary of some kind, with all the shoulder gear and almost unbelievably huge sword. She noted the metal studded gloves and material embedded in his wrist accessory. He wore a short sleeved gray top, close fitting and snug over the chest. Loose black pants were knotted at the waist and the belt harness, though different somehow, looked similar to the kind SOLDIERs wore. He was scanning the crowd and when his gaze passed over hers she bit down a breath because his blue-green eyes held an unmistakable glow. He was a SOLDIER then, but one with a strange taste in weaponry.
Jaz watched as Alma, another of her wait staff, intercepted the man. There was a pause and some gestured conversation directed at the sword. The blond man seemed reluctant to give it up, but Alma prevailed and was rewarded with the harness, blade, and wrist accessory. The girl tried to put on the harness, but had to settle for carrying the whole pile to the weapons cache in her arms. She held the sword awkwardly because of the weight and moved slowly as though she were afraid to cut something even with it in the holder. Instead she managed to take out a few of the slower moving drunks by close-lining them as she passed. The owner of the sword watched her go, wincing as each body hit the floor.
Jaz smiled. This could be interesting, as Turks and ShinRa military were not known for seeing eye to eye. Reaching underneath the counter top she checked to make sure her pulse rifle was charged. Just a precaution, of course.
**************************
Reno saw Cloud enter and in spite of himself he had to grin. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was looking forward to a round of drinking and possible entertainment curtsey of Mr. Probably-couldn't-hold-his-liquor-Strife. Snagging Mina by her apron strings, and managing to cop an of course, purely accidental feel, he quickly ordered a round of L4 Suicides.
She took his order, smacked him soundly, and flounced away giving him an excellent view of her retreating backside.
He returned to attention as Cloud was relieved of the Ultima weapon, waiting patiently and entertaining himself with a bit of an idea when he noticed more than one person eyeing the ex-SOLDIER with interest as he wove his way gracefully around people and stools.
Cloud stopped at Reno's table and pushed bangs out of his eyes, one brow raised in question.
"Well what?" Reno said. "Sit down."
The blond complied by drawing up a stool with his foot and settling in. He gave the bar another cursory glance then asked,
"So, this is where the Turks hang out?"
"Used to anyway. Been too busy lately and Junon hasn't really been an option."
"Why not?"
Reno leaned back in his chair and worked the cigarette to the other side of his mouth.
"Been sorting out Midgar. It's a hell of a mess if you hadn't noticed."
Cloud's face colored a bit, but the drinks came and saved him from answering immediately. He studied the golden liquid and without preamble took the whole thing in one gulp. Reno chewed the end of the cigarette and reassessed Cloud's tolerance. He did live with a bar owner after all, if that intel was still current.
"How's Tifa?" The Turk mouthed around the rim of his glass.
The ex-SOLDIER almost smiled, the obvious amusement tugging at his lips.
"She's still coming up with new and unpleasant ways for you to die."
"Charming."
"Yes. Yes she is."
"She seems to forget the lives she put out."
Cloud opened his mouth, shook his head and said, "Let's //not// get into this. We still have two towns to go."
"Just don't go getting all high and mighty on me. You've killed plenty of people too."
The other man looked lost for a minute on those words, and Reno was almost sorry he'd said it. Almost.
The Turk sniffed and returned his attention back to the half empty glass in front of him. For some reason the liquid seemed more vibrant than usual. Fascinating the way the lights got trapped and distorted in the amber color.
Pretty, he thought, feeling warm. Not drunk though. Not off of this small pittance.
He looked up to see Cloud peering into his own empty glass. The blond waved it in the air to get Jaz's attention and signaled for a bottle of draft from Mideel. He wasn't exactly sure how this was communicated between the two, but she unerringly got it right and with hook shot action, lobbed it at his head. Still eyeing the inside of his glass Cloud stuck out a hand and caught it.
Mina, sensing she was needed, reappeared with whiskey and some carob nuts. The Turk made a simultaneous grab for both, but only got the order and no woman.
"Hey," he said suddenly. "You /do/ have something else to wear!"
Cloud too a swig from the drink and plucked at the gray material of the shirt.
"As opposed to what? My usual gear just needs some attention before I can wear it again."
"Like a nice bonfire perhaps? Why do you hold onto those rags?"
"They were…a gift."
"From?"
"What about your clothes? You don't ever wear anything else."
Reno narrowed his eyes and repeated, "From?"
"Forget it."
The Turk nodded his head as if Cloud had just confirmed something.
"We need to talk," Reno said after a long pause.
"Yeah."
"You seem to know a bit more about this than me. I wanna know why."
Cloud said nothing, seemingly absorbed in peeling the label from the glass piece by piece.
"You said a name in your sleep."
He looked up. "What?"
"Zax."
"So?"
"Zax Tribeca?"
The blond drained the contents of the bottle, his eyes lingering on the last drops as they hit the table when he turned it upside-down.
"Why do you care? It's no big secret. Cait Sith was in AVALANCHE after all so I'm sure Reeve must have told you something. Or you could have checked the files."
"Reeve seems to think it's your business and any files on you and Zax Tribeca are almost non-existent. Which means, someone made an effort to make you two disappear after the Nibelheim incident."
"Incident," Cloud said, not liking the word. "That 'incident' destroyed everything."
"No kidding. It took a town, the General and the General's second in command. You can imagine the confusion. You on the other hand are even more of a mystery."
"How so?"
"Don't play stupid Strife. The private that went to Nibelheim was a seventeen year old trouble maker that had no chance of being in SOLDIER. The physical make up, the psych file… Nothing in there sounds like you at all. Five years later and this guy shows up, says he's Cloud Strife and blows up a reactor. There are also some other inconsistencies that I just want to add so we can lay the cards out nice and straight."
"I'll ask again. Why do you care? We're going to Nibelheim to pick up some files. I don't want to play twenty questions with you. I just want this over with as quickly as possible."
"It has everything to do with this! /Private/Strife never made it into the SOLDIER program. I know that because that was the year I got in. I checked and your name isn't on the list. The last thing with your name on it is a transfer order to go to Nibelheim as part of a clean up crew for some Reactor check up. Except the thing is, you have all the characteristics of someone who was in it."
"Hojo," Cloud said with venom. "That should tell you just about everything."
"No dice Strife. I know about that 'unrecorded' and unauthorized experiment, and I know you have JENOVA cells in you, but what I don't get, and I think one or two eggheads back in Midgar will vouch for this, is how. How you are who you are. I know your file. Christ, I had to memorize it. You're allergic to Mako. That's one of the reasons you couldn't get into SOLDIER. You don't make any sense at all."
Cloud half stood up from his chair and slammed a fist into the table. The empty bottles rattled.
"There's a lot that /I/don't understand! About myself! About then! What do you want from me?!"
Reno put his glass down and looked Cloud in the eyes. Eyes that were bright with anger and frustration, and mako.
"I want to know what happened to you, because maybe it happened to me. You're the only one who knows jack about this 'Recall Project', or whatever the hell kinda name Hojo put to it. Scientists? Gone and dead. Hojo and Meteor didn't spare one between them that the Turks could find way back when Nibelheim went supernova, or before Midgar made a nice imitation of hell. Workers? Same problem, only they wouldn't be able to tell much anyway. Zax Tribeca? He's ain't talking that's for sure. Sephiroth? From what you told Cait Sith about those days the General was the last person to have a look at Gast's or Hojo's notes down in the mansion, and he ain't talking either. What we have here is a serious communication fuck up. I wanna know, and you're the only one left."
Cloud had taken on the look of someone either in shock or suffering from lack of air. His mouth worked but nothing came out and for a moment Reno braced himself to be hit. When animals were backed into a corner sometimes they did crazy things. Strife looked a little gone and Reno wasn't about to get caught off guard. The earliest thing learned, first lesson in the slums.
Instead though, the blond eased himself back into a sitting position, hands pressed to the table as if he needed to feel the wood grain beneath his fingertips. Instead of answering the Turk immediately, he signaled for another drink, and Reno found that he needed one badly. He wasn't drunk enough to keep his hands from shaking, and belatedly realized he was doing a good imitation of Strife with his own hands planted firmly palm down. He removed them and gripped each knee instead.
"Well?"
Cloud wiped the bangs from his eyes and took a breath.
"Well, we have a problem then. A communication fuck up as you call it."
"Why's that? Reeve set you up with something that makes you want to go to Nibelheim. That file you dropped on my desk only had /my/ name in it. You know something else. What did you take out of the file?"
Cloud smiled but there was no warmth in it.
"That's my business Reno."
It was the Turk's turn to get angry.
"Yeah? Well it's my business too! Somebody did something to me and I want to know what it was!"
"Glad you're seeing things from my perspective for a change."
"Not even," Reno hissed. "I'm actually trying to find out. Seems to me you've been avoiding this a long time if you haven't even got a clue as to what happened. If you're not lying that is."
"No lie. I've got a lot of holes where there should be memories, but that doesn't give you any right to comment on my life."
"I think we had this little talk already."
"Yeah, and I'm sick of it. We're both headed to Nibelheim. That's the only thing we have in common."
Their drinks came and the silence drew out into an uncomfortable length. They drank and sat. Heads bowed and thoughts full. Cloud excused himself to the bathroom and Reno wondered blithely if he planned on returning. They had just ordered another round though, so he figured there must be more yet to come…even if they weren't talking. Still, it was if something had burst between them. He wasn't irritated any longer, just empty. Tension and raw nerves from traveling were also unraveling with the alcohol. If they didn't manage anything else productive they'd certainly manage to get properly drunk tonight. At least that was something pre-planned. He hadn't counted on Cloud putting up such a brick wall. Knowing and not telling, or just not knowing. Which was it? Probably both. Files weren't windows into people's souls, but they did speak. There was a pattern here, two really. One was for Strife, the other for a boy who disappeared six years ago. Reno just couldn't make the connection he knew was there. Information was the key to that, and Strife was the only source.
He looked to the bathroom door. Still no Cloud. He looked at the freshly served drinks and considered. Well, there was another option. Seeing as Cloud was apparently not a chatty drunk, or even that drunk at all. He wondered how long it would last against the physical make up of the paradoxical fighter.
Patting the left side of his pants Reno located what he was looking for. A small vial, filled with liquid, came free of the pocket and under the light he peered at the neatly typed label.
MAKO POISON ANTIDOTE
He grinned. If he did this right Cloud would spill his guts faster than a Bahmut slice to the midsection would. This stuff had a lot of side effects, but it was also something the Turks found occasionally useful in tough interrogations. Good thing that doctor's office had had some on hand.
With another peek at the door he whipped out his lighter and passed the flame under the bottom of the tube.
"C'mon…" He said earnestly.
The liquid inside moved slightly and began to take on a pale bluish cast. When it had darkened perceptively he turned it up over Cloud's waiting drink. He knew that heating it up would increase the rate of synthesis into the bloodstream and therefore speed up the process. If Cloud didn't talk soon he'd know that he hadn't warmed it up enough. It took time to activate, hours, sometimes even a day. Subjects that Reno had seen the stuff used on went from quiet to talkative to downright incoherent, like they were trying to speak but couldn't. They also didn't seem to sleep much either afterwards, but what did he care? He was interested in information and if routine questioning didn't get it, other methods worked just as well. Even if the period only lasted the usual hour it would be worth it.
Behind and to the left of him, the bathroom door opened and a morose, but thoughtful looking Cloud stepped out. The blond walked over to the table, hands deep in hidden pockets in the black fabric of his pants. He stopped by his seat and looked at the drinks on the table.
"Well?" The Turk said. "You gonna sit and finish or wimp out? I'm still 2 up on you."
Cloud seemed to consider this and sat down. He sighed, but it was more tolerant than weary. He lifted the drink, swirled the liquor around a bit, then set it down. Reno watched him carefully, fingers twitching slightly.
"One question," Cloud said.
"Hmmm?"
"How did you get those scars?" He pointed to the pink lines adorning Reno's cheeks.
Reno grinned and took a swig from his bourbon.
"How did you get yours?" And indicated the long white line from Cloud's elbow to wrist.
The ex-SOLDIER closed his eyes and smiled faintly.
"Fair enough," he said and tilted the glass all the way back into his upturned lips.
Fair enough, Reno mouthed silently. He hid his exultation behind his own glass as he saw drops spill over the sides of Cloud's mouth to trail amber lines over the jaw and down into the tan hollow of the throat.
Drink up you bastard. Drink up.
* * * * * * *
Authors Note: Wow. Um…that was long and involved. I've been drafting this for a couple of days, pouring over where I'm going with it and why I can't seem to get there any faster. *l* For everyone who was looking forward to that table dance fear not, I will not disappoint you again! This chapter was just stretching waaaay too long. I mean 30 pages is 3 times what I normally put out. My eyes hurt, your eyes hurt. I'll just save that little bit of insanity for next time to lighten up the mood. Not intentionally stringing you along…heh. So, next time, Cloud, a table, and destiny. Or just fools and folly. Riiiiiight. Oh, and I have a habit of integrating my readers into the story. Keep watch, they pop up every chapter.
-Mo
By the way: as usual I will plug the page where I have the entire story, art and yadda yadda. I made banners as well if anyone cares to link directly, as updates usually hit there first. http://www.geocities.com/w_a_k_i_n_g
Many Moons, by Moira
Chapter 7, Drinking Games
Never in his life had Cloud Strife felt as unprepared for the future as he did now. His earlier days in AVALANCHE hadn't exactly been rife with difficult decisions. He had done it for the money, and that had been that. Things had been marked by a certain distance, and he hadn't encouraged more, but the end of the world had a way of changing people. Or at least altering the way they saw things. Aeris had taught him that, as had every one of his friends.
He had found it easier to function within a set realm of small alternatives. Like leadership or direction. Content to let Barrett make the orders and Tifa to give him a track to follow, like a good little mercenary. In those days things had been almost absurdly simple. It was as if the memories of his emotions or thoughts were only two-dimensional. Though, of course, Cloud Strife had enough large gaping holes in his memory to ride the Highwind through with Cait Sith at the helm.
Five years were still gone. Five years where all he remembered with any certainty was a dark-haired man with bright blue eyes talking him out of darkness time and time again. Those whispered, practically one-sided conversations had been a lifeline, his hope. Zax and his unfaltering optimism.
And now? Now when he finally had time to explore his past more thoroughly and put things in order, he found that he was reluctant. And afraid. Afraid of knowing. Zax would be angry if he knew. He had always told Cloud that understanding wasn't the hardest part, it was accepting and then acting true to yourself. Only now that he was beginning to understand he didn't want to go further. He had a bad feeling about himself and his past. The worry sat in his stomach like a wet stone; sides being rubbed smooth till it had no shape, no definition.
Reno's little insight after the Zolom fight had bothered the hell out of him too. He didn't want to admit it, but it spooked him. Not the snide opinion of his leadership style, as if that Turk had any rights to pass judgment, but the last part.
/"...there's no rest for us huh? Some of us just like to fight. Am I right?"/
For someone doubting his own character in the wake of peace it was a dry morsel to swallow. Though why he might have anything in common with the redhead seemed just as fathomless as the sea.
"Asshole." Cloud grated through a tightly clenched jaw. "What do you know?"
He limped steadily on through the broad main street of Junon, hand trailing over the steel railing that protected against a hundred foot drop to the sea. The sun was brilliant overhead and it warmed his skin even through the leather shoulder gear he wore. He met no resistance on the street in spite of the fine weather though. People weren't exactly numerous today, but one look at his face sent many on their business with a quicker step and out of the blond ex-SOLDIER's way. As it were that suited him fine. He wasn't planning on being sociable until after a shower, some food, and a little self-medication in the form of alcohol anyway.
The leg ached something awful as he crossed the avenue and moved past the upper-level street shops. He gave the buildings a cursory look and walked gingerly to a narrow opening that he knew led to the lower levels. As he passed through he had to adjust his sword into an upright position lest it scrape along the bricks.
Down a set of stairs, over a catwalk and then another spiraling flight of steps until he was on the second level of Junon city. He paused there at the bottom and wiped a sudden outbreak of perspiration off his brow. Most of his hair still pointed skyward with a stubborn tenacity, but the bangs were matted to his forehead and got in his eyes. Pulling off a glove he tucked the ends carefully behind his ears and made a mental note to have Tifa cut them when he returned. She had to cut his hair regularly as it threatened to grow feet within a few months time, and she seemed to enjoy it. At least she did a better job of it than he. Cloud wasn't so particular to style (as if he could get it to do anything but stick straight up anyway) that he was against taking a knife to it on occasion. She /really/ didn't like that.
With a shake of the head and another adjustment to the sword, Cloud limped to the front of a non-descript building with green shutters. He could almost see the metal beams crisscrossing underneath the plaster, acting like a fallout support. All buildings in Junon were reinforced with steel frames, and it was because of the city's structural design that Weapon's attack hadn't collapsed the whole town. Only the casing of the gun platform and Sister Ray cannon had been damaged. Plenty of death to go around anyway, but it could have been worse. It could have been like Midgar.
Cloud frowned as he took in the buildings on either side of the Inn. He could see the bar Reno had indicated to the left. It was a squat establishment shaped roughly like a horseshoe. There were two levels, but lights were only on below. The sign, lettered with silver on matte black read, 'Lazarus Pit'. In and out of the swinging doors people came like a parade of brightly colored birds, each outfit more eye watering than the next.
The shop to the right sold ammunition. Cloud had been there before, or so he thought. It had three levels, though the shop seemed only to occupy the ground floor. He would need to stop there later to ask about the latest artillery and explosives. While he didn't use guns very often, Barrett had sent him with a list and a mail order for the supplies to be shipped to North Corel. The big black man had requested ammunition, another drill arm, and dynamite to help with the renovation of his hometown. Seemed like Meteor had at least been good for the construction business.
Tearing his eyes away from a bar customer wearing a garish orange pantsuit that screamed for an early death, Cloud proceeded to the inn grimly. He passed through the front doors and thought he heard a series of faint clicks like tumblers in a lock. Muttering a long string of commands under his breath he continued in. Ignoring what he took to be a security check system similar to the kind Midgar had used for the trains, Cloud approached desk located at the rear of the lobby. Desk or armored cube, he really couldn't decide. It was a dark blue metal counter, jointed into an L-shape that enclosed the man within like a fortress. Huge squares of what was probably bulletproof glass rose from counter-top to ceiling. There was a small revolving circle beneath a half moon cut into the barrier, and also a cred machine worked into the structure. No paintings or decorations adorned the gray walls, but a small potted plant (also inside the barrier) rested on a corner of the desk. All very neat and functional. He didn't like it.
As he studied the imposing structure he also saw a small sticker, peeling and shiny, stuck to the outside. Even with his enhanced vision it was difficult to read, but if he squinted just so…
"Smile," it read. "Because if you can read this then you're in range of some really nasty hardware."
Cloud was sure Barrett would have appreciated the sentiment if not the actual weaponry aimed at his person. Ignoring the faint whirl of machinery that followed him as he walked to the desk Cloud put a gloved hand to the glass and tapped.
"I'd like a room for the night."
The man behind the counter drew his attention away from a magazine and peered at him through watery blue eyes. He was unshaven, pale as a fish belly, and looked about as interested in customers as only the truly bored can. He stared openly at Cloud, the eyes getting more opaque as they noticed the shredded clothing, dirty countenance and obvious lack of anything worth anything.
"We don't do handouts," he said finally.
Cloud sucked in an angry breath.
"I didn't ask for a handout I want a room."
The pale blue eyes flicked back to the magazine. "We're full."
"Bullshit! What is this? Do you always give customers a hard time?"
The man turned away. "You're not a customer. Go back to whatever hole you slept in last night."
Cloud made a mental count to ten and then fished out a handful of gil. "I have enough for three nights here. I only want one."
The man behind the counter had picked up his magazine and was reading again. He turned the page, and then another. Cloud was clearly dismissed.
"Alright," Cloud said, his voice low and calm. "Maybe I can make my point another way."
The man didn't look up, but the blue eyes stopped moving over the article.
"If you're thinking of threatening me then you're really off your chocobo. This glass is bulletproof, casting proof, and can't be opened without a key. Someone is also aiming a lot of guns at you as we speak."
Cloud smiled a little smile.
The man turned away and began picking something out of his teeth, completely unconcerned. There was a soft 'whump' as a bag was set down. A methodical 'click' 'click' 'click' of a harness being removed. The sound of teeth setting into a particularly hard smile and then air being cut as a massive piece of weaponry traveled at high speeds towards the frontmost window
/'TINK'/
Bemused the man turned around at the sound, turned and saw about a foot of tempered metal just inches from his collar bone. He stopped in his quest to remove a piece of lettuce from between his front teeth and stared hard. From behind the glass on the business side, Cloud was braced at a right angle, his gloved hands tight on the handle. Multicolored stones gleamed under the fluorescent light.
"You see those two pink ones at the end of the handle?" He asked the man, indicating the rearmost material.
A nod was the tense reply.
"Those two enhance my strength and up my HP. This one," he said indicating a yellow orb a bit further up, "Let's me do what I'm going to do next."
The man gave another nod, his cheek twitching slightly as he took an uneven breath.
"But it's wedged! You can't go in any farther! You can't reach me!"
Cloud, mako eyes brilliant under wild hair, only smirked.
"Who said I was aiming for you?"
The ex-SOLDIER gave a sharp twist of the handle and the edge of the blade snapped 180 degrees as the Double Cut material flared brightly. Glass shattered under the movement in a short but thunderous tide. It collapsed all four sides of the office barrier and the small space filled with the pieces. Withdrawing his sword Cloud got up on his toes and leaned over the edge.
"Now I can reach you."
The man was crouched on the floor, hands clapped over his ears. He looked up at the sword resting casually over one armored shoulder and took a moment to consider life. It seemed he was rather attached to it. His hand edged out under Cloud's watchful eyes and punched a knob on one of the cabinet shelves. The door popped open and when his hand retracted from inside it had a key.
"Was that so hard?" Cloud asked.
"Perhaps you had better just back off kid," a voice said from behind. There was a 'click'.
Cloud turned his head slightly.
"Manager? SOLDIER?" He asked of the man who had suddenly appeared next to him, the barrel of a shotgun aimed slightly over one ear. From his peripheral vision he could only make out the barrel and two fingers. Cloud raised his empty hand and backed slowly away from the desk.
There was a grunt that sounded somewhere between incredulity and amusement. Cloud repeated his question.
"Owner," a man's voice replied, deep like a bass instrument. "And ex- SOLDIER. 2nd class."
Cloud almost nodded but remained still.
"And you? I don't know you, but something tells me you are not just a vandal and a hothead. Turn around and let me see your face."
So he did, and in turn saw a large man, deep-chested with ropes of muscle still cording his arms despite his age, which Cloud guessed to be mid- fifties. Salt and pepper hair was thick and cut above the ears. The man had a large handle bar mustache and light brown eyes. He frowned as he studied Cloud. Cloud supposed he didn't paint a very pretty picture.
The big man looked him up and down, sucking on piano key sized front teeth as he thought.
"You're eyes say you're SOLDIER," he said finally. "But no SOLDIER uses a sword."
"It's been known to happen," Cloud replied, thinking of the Buster sword's original owner.
"Not unless you're Sephiroth, and since you seem about nine inches too short and haven't killed me yet I think it's safe to say you're not."
Cloud quirked a blond eyebrow at him and looked pointedly at the gun.
"That's not standard issue either."
The man beamed and the mustache ends quivered as if he'd been waiting his whole life for someone to notice.
"Had it special ordered from Midgar two years ago before Meteor."
Cloud clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
"Looks like it has kick."
"Like a bitch, but I ordered it that way."
"Range about two hundred yards?"
"Two-Fifty."
"Bet the additional two loaders, scatter shot option and grenade launcher cost you a fortune."
The man grinned again like a boy on holiday.
"Damn straight it did. You haven't even commented on the materia slots."
"Materia adage on firearms can cause jams. Especially with any castings over level 2."
The large mustache twitched.
"That's why I only installed Independent materia. HP and Pre-emptive. And that's how I got the drop on you. Were you surprised?"
Cloud smiled faintly and gestured with his empty hand at the material slots on the shotgun. The usually bright orbs were duller somehow, like a light shaded by cloth. The man frowned at the weapon.
"What did you…?"
The blond inclined his head towards the Crystal bangle on his wrist. The bracelet had three stones embedded in it.
"Actually, you got the drop on me because I just wasn't paying attention. The bases are still covered though."
"But I'm here now, even if my materia didn't work."
Cloud shook his head. "I cast 'Contain' right after I got in here. My own pre-emptive would have cancelled yours out anyway, but I think the Added Effect of Lightning is going to cause you the most problems."
To Cloud's surprise the man burst out laughing, the broad shoulders shaking with the booming guffaws.
"You sly bastard! Who are you boy? Better yet, what rank are you? First class?"
Something dark flitted across Cloud's eyes.
"No," he said at length as the laughter died away to chuckles. "No. I was never in SOLDIER."
Light brown eyes showed surprise and not just a little suspicion.
"Well, there's no way you're Wutainese. Not with those blue eyes and that hair of yours. Maybe part chocobo with that mop, but if you didn't learn it from them then you have to be ShinRa trained. What's your rank boy? I may be old but I'm not stupid."
The blond sighed and lowered his hands. He walked back over to his bag and picked up the harness. Reassembling the straps across his shoulders and back, he sheathed the sword and picked up the knapsack. Walking back to the counter he leaned over and plucked the keys from the clerk's outstretched hand. The man still hadn't moved from his crouched position, but the watery eyes took turns peering over the counter and darting to a door in the back. Cloud gave a derisive snort and withdrew, his path taking him back to the owner.
The owner, shotgun now pointing south and cradled in the crook of one elbow watched him without comment.
"I'm sorry about the mess," Cloud said apologetically.
"I was the one handling the outside guns," the owner said. "The security cameras gave me a pretty good idea who's fault it was. It'll be coming out of his salary," he added, indicating the retreating form of the clerk who was furtively exiting through the door he had been eyeing earlier.
"But young man, you WILL curb your temper while in my inn. Do you understand me?"
"Yes sir."
"And son,"
Cloud paused.
"What's your name? I'm called Barson."
"Cloud. Cloud Strife."
The big man nodded. "Cloud Strife it is. I'll be sending up fresh towels along with something to eat. You look like you could use it."
Cloud grimaced. "Any chance you have a sewing kit handy as well?"
"Sure thing."
"I appreciate it."
"Just pay your bill and keep that sword in its holder and we won't have any misunderstandings."
"Got it," Cloud said and picked his way gingerly through the littered glass to the lift. The man watched him go and when the shape of the big sword had retreated from sight he blew a relieved breath that ruffled his mustache.
"Well then. What to do about this?" He said aloud, though it wasn't clear whether or not he was talking about the mess or mako-eyed disasters.
*************
Hot water beat against his face and streamed down into ears as he tilted his head back to let the moisture hit him full on. Through the closed lids of his eyes he could see a soft nimbus of light like a halo and underneath his hands square shaped tiles made grooved impressions into the skin. Ducking his head he braced both palms on the wall in front and let the liquid wash the dried blood from his back and take off everything Zolom related with it. It felt so good to be clean. With a toss of the head the wet tail of red hair flipped over a shoulder, the end so saturated with water that the color was like fresh blood replacing what he had rinsed off. He pressed his forehead against the tiles and stayed that way for a long time.
"I don't want to be here," he murmured.
"Then where else?" said a familiar voice.
Reno sighed. "I don't know."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know!"
"S'not like you to be so uncertain."
"Things have changed."
"You never woulda swallowed an order from anyone else before you gave up the spot. Never woulda put up with a guy like /him/."
"He's going the same way I am."
"Like in the head?"
"…"
"Where's your pride Reno?"
"I left it in Midgar."
"Where we are."
"Yes," Reno said softly, touching the scar on his cheek. "Where you both are."
* * * * * * * *
Upon locating his room on the second floor Cloud took little time to dump his belongings on the small single bed. He sat on the edge, massaging the knot in the small of his back and inspecting bandages. They itched like crazy under the gauze, but that was a good sign. It meant they were healing. He smiled thinly. With the cells in his body from JENOVA and the SOLDIER make-up, he was a quick healer indeed.
Just as he was beginning to stand up a small knock at the door told him the towels and food were here. He accepted two fluffy green towels, a covered plate, and a small sewing kit from a young porter. Cloud gave him some gil and the boy palmed it without comment. Returning to his bedside Cloud reflected that he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours (a body couldn't really count Zolom now could they?) and he was starving. With a glance at the plate and then the bathroom door he knew a shower would have to come first. He could hardly stand the smell of himself.
One of the fluffy towels tucked under his arm he stepped into an economical bathroom with a small shower and blue mats. With the toilet tucked unobtrusively in one corner, a stall unit shower and a sink with a square mirror, it was a wonder that guests larger than himself could fit at all. Barrett certainly would have problems and even Vincent at 6'2" would find the accommodations somewhat coffin like.
"And he might like that," Cloud reflected with a thoughtful incline of the head. His teammates were always on his mind in one way or another these days. He folded the towels on the toilet (hooks were apparently not part of the room deal) and stripped bare of his ravaged outfit. In some places he had to peel it forcibly off his skin because of blood, maybe his, maybe the Zolom's. Rips and tears made a map of damage on the purple turtleneck and pants that he wasn't sure he could fix himself. Maybe he would send it to Tifa and see what she could do, or get a shopkeeper to repair it. Those garments had been bequeathed to him by someone dear and he meant to hold onto every scrap.
From behind the closed door he heard his PHS ringing. Thinking it might be Reno he padded out of the bathroom in his skin, bare feet silent on the wood floor.
"Cloud here."
"Hiya Spike, how's it going?"
"Yuffie?" He was surprised. Why on earth would she be calling him? If this was another crank call…
"Not happy to hear from me?" Her voice sounded petulant, but not as downright whiny as it had when they first met. She had changed over the past year. He had seen her last summer when AVALANCHE members had met up for dinner and a reunion. She was a little taller now, though below his height still. Her hair had also been allowed to grow out from the short bob she normally kept in, though most times she wore it up anyway. As for habits, Cloud still kept his materia in a secure place when near her sticky fingers. He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.
"Guess what?"
Cloud hesitated, not liking the conspiratorial tone.
"What," he asked warily.
"I can see you!" She said gleefully.
If Cloud's enemies thought his attacks were fast, his ability to wrap himself in bedcovers was nothing short of inhuman.
"Yuffie!" He hissed. "What are you doing?!"
She laughed so loud Cloud thought the transceiver would break.
"A joke! A joke! I'm in Wutai idiot. What are you doing that I shouldn't see?"
His face underwent a change of about six shades of red.
"Never you mind brat. What do you want anyway?"
"Jeez…I was just calling to say hi."
"Riiiiight. What else Yuffie?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line as Yuffie thought about how best to drop the bomb. She decided on,
"Wutai is going to war."
Cloud gaped and the bedcovers slipped over his shoulders. "What?!"
The ninja girl's answer came across as a high-pitched babble with no pauses to separate words.
"WellyouseebecauseMidgarisinsuchbadshapeandShinRaisgonemyfatherthinksit'sbes ttomovenowandcrushtheremains. Andsinceyou'refriendswithReeveandaresortstheleaderIthoughtyoumighttalktomyda d…"
It took a few minutes to translate and process the information. AVALANCHE's leader flopped back onto the bed.
"Yuffie…This is a really bad time. And what do mean 'I'm the leader'? AVALANCHE isn't any sort of government and I'm not in charge anymore."
"Well, you beat Sephiroth. I guess that makes you the general."
"What?! I'm not the general of anything, and why don't /you/ go talk to your father?"
Yuffie took a minute to answer.
"He expects me to help him to lead them. I'm going to be the next ruler of Wutai. I have to think of their interests."
Cloud pinched the bridge of his nose as a familiar headache began returning and fought off the urge to grind his teeth.
"Listen to me Yuffie. You need to make a decision here. Do you really think this war is the right thing? Midgar is a city in pieces. Any leftover SOLDIERs, basic troops or ShinRa personnel aren't going to be hanging out waiting for orders. Reeve can't even keep the power running on a regular schedule. Attacking Midgar is like flogging a dead chocobo. It's pointless. Rufus is dead and there is no ShinRa left to tell anyone what to do."
"Then you don't know about the plants?"
"What?"
"Three of them are going again."
Cloud sat upright, knuckles white against the black plastic of the PHS.
"Impossible. They were all shut down months ago. When did this happen? Who restarted them?!"
"Whoa whoa! It was only a few days ago. And no one as far as we can tell for two of them. They just up and began pouring mako energy into the batteries. The latest one though is definitely ShinRa."
"How? Reeve would never."
"We've had reports of SOLDIER activity and that woman from the weapons division is there."
"Scarlett?"
"Yeah that's the bitch." Yuffie also muttered something that Cloud couldn't quite make out, but it sounded distinctly like "whore".
He bit his lip. "I'm kinda in the middle of something right now, but I could check out that plant on my way back…"
"What are you doing now? Does this mean you won't talk to my dad?"
"I'm on my way to Nibelheim with a Turk in tow. There's something I have to get from the mansion."
"Are you going with Reno?!" She squealed.
"…yes. He's on business for Reeve there."
She howled with laughter and Cloud entertained himself with thoughts of violence against small ninjas.
"Wait," she said, a bit breathless. "What about my dad? He wants to move soon."
"Tell Godo that I'm going to check it out after Nibelheim. Tell him I'm going to need at least a week."
"I can't! He expects me to-"
"Yuffie," Cloud growled. "You need to do what you believe in and tell him what you think. You've never had problems talking back to him before."
"That's because I never noticed how old he's getting. Cloud…I'll have to take over soon. I don't want to, but I do…"
"Then you need to establish now what you intend to do with your rule. You do that and you get me one week before Wutai moves. Even if you can't sway Godo you get me that one week!"
There was silence on the other end of the line, but she came back on with a little more bite to her voice.
"One week Cloud Strife! I expect you here in one week!"
"Right. Right. I have to go Yuffie, but tell me, what plants are operational?"
"Um…Condor is running, and so is Mideel's mako spring. The one we have reports of ShinRa at is the plant at Gongaga."
Cloud's mouth dried slightly. He swallowed painfully and asked Yuffie for Godo's private number in case he had to call.
"Be sure of yourself Yuffie," he told her.
"And you get your spikey butt here in time! Oh, and tell Reno I said hi. Good luck on whatever it is you're doing."
Cloud snorted.
"And, hey, Cloud?"
"Yeah?"
"I was only kidding. I'm not in Wutai, I'm close enough to throw the Conformer at you!"
He dove back into the covers and yelled, "Yuffie!"
She hung up with a laugh.
**************
Fresh off his epiphany Rufus took off across the wasteland that served as his here and now. There were no guideposts or any defining landmarks yet, but he headed unerringly in a straight line towards what he had designated 'north'. There was a pulling sort of sensation from that direction that told him he was nearing something, and it grew stronger and stronger as he walked on.
The second attempt at 'recalling' something earned him a slight headache and his watch back. He focused on the face of the mako powered instrument and concentrated hard. The hands moved to 12 o'clock and from that point on began ticking off the seconds, and then minutes and finally hours as he walked. As the hands approached three he began to notice changes in the landscape. Rocky outcroppings began to appear in piles as well as other debris. The more distance he traveled, the more heaps of wreckage became visible. It was as if a great city had stood there once and all that remained were fragments of ancient buildings. The ache in his legs and jaw from clenching were more evidence that this was no dream.
This new land, not entirely unlike the previous muted territory excepting physical obstructions, was similarly bland in terms of color and variety. The crumbled shape of derelict buildings grew larger and actual edifices stood here and there. He quickly withdrew into alcoved areas, not sure about inhabitants, or the gut feeling that was telling him to remain out of sight. In and out of fallen walls and roofless structures he moved on. Ahead of him, in the general direction he had been heading, was an impossibly long stretch of gutted edifices, like those he passed through now. It was as if the designer of this world had only two ideas, neither good, and was colorblind. At times though, he also thought they seemed vaguely reminiscent of places he had seen or visited, but unless the world had been reduced to dust by Meteor and collected here, he didn't think it a possibility. In fact, one of the things he was certain of, was that Meteor had been averted. Wherever he was now had no bearing on the real world.
Just as that thought crossed his mind he saw a flicker of movement and then it was gone. He paused and waited, but it didn't show itself. Cautiously he backtracked out of the building and went another way around. Edging along a fairly high portion of wall he made it to a window that looked out over an open area with only knee-high rubble. He got up right next to the sill and without exposing his head looked out as far as possible in his peripheral vision. There was movement again, but this time he saw it was a woman. Only, this woman was taller than most men, had luminescent eyes and pulsated with green. He whipped back behind the relative safety of the wall. He felt…? He felt so cold for a second that he thought his heart would become brittle and break. Who was she? What was she?
A sound, like quickly moving footsteps sounded somewhere ahead and to the left, which was into the courtyard where the woman had been. He risked another peek through the window and saw a man this time, sweaty and gray. The man was dressed like an office clerk, similar to one of the hundreds of employees he had once had working for him in Midgar. His breath was uneven and the look in his eyes was confused. Short brown hair was matted to his forehead and the cuff of one sleeve was missing, as was the arm…
Rufus sucked in air through clenched teeth as the wave of cold hit him again. The woman had come back into view and the man was looking at her with a mixture of fear and hope.
"You're alive!" The man said. "Oh, you have to help me…my arm…I can't find my arm…"
"Alive? No, not that." He thought he heard her say.
The woman walked towards the man slowly, her face breaking into a sorrowful expression, eyes narrow with emotion. Her black hair hung low to her back and swayed as she glided to him on what Rufus saw were bare feet.
"I can't help you with that," she intoned in a low voice. "I can't repair the damage." She drew up her arms as if to ward off the cold that Rufus felt seeping into his skin like a wet vise. The man ran up to meet her halfway and clutched her shoulder with his remaining hand.
"It took my arm!" he moaned. "It took my arm and I can't find it."
The woman, instead of backing away in revulsion drew the man in close and pressed his head into her shoulder.
"I know. I'm sorry. We don't know what they are, and we cannot seem to send them back. But you, you should not be here either."
"Where am I?" He cried. "Where is here?! I woke up and I was, I mean…these things…"
"Hush," the woman commanded. "We are trying our best to send people back, but something is wrong. There is something blocking the way. The planet will not listen!"
She closed her eyes and began incredibly to hum. Rufus watched as she seemed to concentrate. The atmosphere grew thick with dryness and a pressing force that reminded Rufus of a Gravity spell. He choked as the air grew solid around him and slid down the wall until he was sitting. Buildings seemed to shimmer into view like a distorted reflection. The woman tilted her head back and called out something in a language that was not quite speech. Something seemed to answer but it was similarly distorted. She cried out again in frustration and the air thundered with the effort. Both the man and the woman vanished in a haze of cold wind. Rufus remained sitting and shivering into the collar of his white jacket.
After some time had passed he got back to his feet and leaned heavily against the wall. The raw speculation on his new non-life had just been thrown into a whole new set of variables. Between dying and ending up here, he reflected, there had hardly been a pause. Not something one could readily identify anyway. He had no recollection of white light or hellish fire, but there was a distinct impression a green similar to the woman's eyes. As colors did little to serve for memories though, he moved on to the fact that despite being dead he had quite a few things to work with. One, he could do something with the material here. His watch had been an effort, but he thought with a little more practice he might even produce a car in the end. Two, he had a direction. Albeit, he had no idea where it was that he was heading, he just knew it was somewhere important. Three, he now knew that there were others here. Of the woman he could only speculate, but the man had definitely been human. A normal human being. With his arm gone… And so creatures then. Or something hostile. He thought back to the movement he had spied earlier and wondered if it had been the woman or the man. Somehow he didn't think so. It was time to find somewhere to rest and work some things out.
He walked around for another half hour doing his best to stay out of sight and make as little noise possible. The man's missing arm kept coming back into his thoughts with such a strong insistence that he knew he wouldn't feel safe until he managed to 'think' up his shotgun. Or at least pick up a few rocks to throw. He scoured the area until he had an armful of fist sized chunks of what appeared to be marble and took them to a building he had found with three intact levels. Climbing up was a chore with the rocks, but he removed his jacket and wrapped them with that, securing the bundle to his back with the sleeves and coat tails. Once he was on the highest floor he had a commanding view of the land and knew that if anything moved within his immediate area he would be able to see it and have time to do something about it.
Squirreled away in his chosen corner he methodically stacked up the stones until he had ammunition within easy reach. When there was nothing left to arrange and he had a capable defense he used one sleeve of his jacket to scrub the dust from his brow and wiped both hands clean. He also took the time to clean under each fingernail and scrub through his hair once or twice. With a close eye on the open space left uncovered in his shelter he stood and stretched, and let his mind wander, scrutinizing the short passage of time for anything that might help. What he got instead were unbidden memories that rose like a flock of birds, unorganized and unstoppable once they took flight. His blue eyes grew opaque as he looked back on things that had been.
…A boy, slight and quiet stood at a window, watching as gouts of smoke and soot scudded across Midgar's skyline, staining the buildings they passed and smudging the windows with grease. He pressed his face to his own window and breathed against the pane of glass. Moist air blossomed out into a splotch roughly the size of his head. The boy continued to exhale even as he began to draw with a long finger. A square took shape within the blob, and then another, and another. Inside one another the squares became miniature windows that decreased in size until the innermost could frame nothing but reflected the boy. He drew back and absently rubbed his shoulders as if trying to comfort himself. Studying his handiwork he felt grimly satisfied, because as he had thought, there was little to see. Turning away he left the mini windows to melt into each other as they evaporated, coalescing into one head-sized mirror before it was gone altogether. His retreating back was a hazy ghost of white, almost indistinguishable from the walls and the furniture.
In the next memory the boy was older now, his red-blond hair trimmed neatly to the nape of a slender neck. Medium length bangs brushed against his eyelashes. He swept them away with the back of one hand and surveyed the meeting room. Every head of department was there, with secretaries in tow and nervous looking clerks handling thick stacks of files. His father sat impassively at the head of the table, one arm bridged under his wide face and mass of chins. He too was watchful and his brown eyes darted from face to face as they entered. Rufus followed suit and went over their names and histories as dispassionately as a machine.
Heidigger was an obscenely obese man. He was tidily dressed though. Surprise there. Sweat beaded on his brow and the rubbery lips pressed together in discomfort. Here was someone who didn't want to be there.
"Well that makes two of us," Rufus had thought blandly.
The head of the Resource Department came next. Reeve was possibly the youngest of the group. At thirty he was an average looking man with intelligent brown eyes. There was a quality about him that bothered Rufus greatly, but he couldn't put a name to it. The head of the Resource Department seemed about as misplaced as a chess piece in a game of stones. His father trusted Reeve implacably. This he knew, and therefore did not trust the man one bit.
Scarlett then entered languidly and with all the time in the world. Today she was wearing a dark blue Wutainese dress, with a silver phoenix trailing feathers up her thigh. Stiletto heels made her inches taller than any man in the room, and there were lacquered pins holding up her dyed hair. Rufus thought he recognized the hair accessories from a weapons catalogue the office had put out a few weeks previous. Despite her false exterior, and perfectly clipped language, Rufus felt that at least she, out of the whole bunch was worth keeping. Perhaps because he held absolutely no interest in her physical appearance, he recognized the intelligence, or at least necessity of her act. He knew a lot about the people his father had hired and Scarlett had the qualities he was looking for in someone to head up a project he had in mind. A project that might be insurance one day. Insurance against fools and fate…
The memory faded and he came back to himself. Slowly, deliberately, Rufus opened his eyes and looked around the bleak space that served the reality of now.
"It's not the way I pictured Hell at all," he muttered.
It was a funny thing, that. He had no doubts about where he would end up. Hell was just one more appointment in his weekly planner. At one point, on a very trying day, he even had his secretary mark 'Hell' as his final board meeting. He doubted she appreciated the irony of it because that very afternoon /had/ marked his last meeting. He remembered looking out the window as the vortex of energy from Diamond Weapon shot towards the heart of an empire; recalled the feel of the glass as he placed a hand against it and waited for the end. White light, then blue, and then nothing. He could only recollect at that point that he had not been afraid, or regretful. Just disappointed that it should end so predictably, and simultaneously pleased with himself for planning ahead. Death wasn't something Rufus ShinRa was ready to bow before. Not yet, not yet.
*******************
Reno stepped out of the shower and into a fresh suit thoughtfully provided by Mina, who gave him an appraising look as he stood defenseless in a towel. He dressed quickly and yanked his hair back into its customary tail. Sunglasses hid the shadows underneath his eyes and he reentered the bar feeling about half alive, half dead from lack of sleep and running.
Jaz was manning the bar by herself, literally tossing drinks at people who pushed her too far. She saw him and gestured to an empty table in one corner. He sat back against the wall and watched the crowd until Mina reappeared with a plate of food. It was plain, but filling, and it took the edge off of his shakes. He ordered a drink and pulled the PHS from his pocket.
It took almost twelve rings for Strife to pick up his end. When he actually spoke the first thing he did was yell,
"Yuffie! Stop calling or I'm going to take the Conformer and shove it so far up-"
Reno bellowed into the receiver overriding whatever the blond had been about to finish saying.
"Hey Strife. If you and your girlfriend want to talk dirty then fucking TALK TO HER!"
Reno clicked off the PHS and fished out a cigarette. This was going to be a pleasant evening. He could already tell.
The PHS rang. Reno snapped it up.
"This is 1-800-Not-Your-Fucking-Girlfriend so get it right."
The pause on the other was heavy with deliberation.
"Reno… What the hell have you been drinking?" Rude's deep voice asked, concerned.
"Aw Shiva," Reno pressed a hand to his forehead and rocked back in the chair. "Sorry man. Thought you were someone else."
Rude's lack of reply to this made Reno bite the end of his cigarette off.
"So, where are you guys?"
Rude's voice came in with a background of static. "We're at Gold Saucer right now. We still have to get up to Glacier Town, but the chopper isn't going to be able to pass the high winds once we get to Bone Village. We're taking chocobos the rest of the way from there. Reeve called to say he wanted us to drop off the Junon base report to you in Costa del Sol."
Reno spit out the ruined cigarette. "Yeah, I'm on my way there now. Should be leaving on a ship in the morning. Meet in the usual place?"
"Fine, but Reno, Reeve also said that Cloud Strife is with you."
"That's right."
"Everything alright? Any trouble?"
"Oh no. Smooth sailing and all that shit."
Rude said something away from the phone's reception and Reno thought he heard a female laugh. Elena was nearby then.
"Reno. Just don't kill him."
"I won't."
"I mean it. Think of the paperwork." Rude actually sounded serious.
"Yes Mother."
"We'll see you in Costa del Sol then, and then back at headquarters in a few days. Reeve has sent us on a paper hunt. It's going to take time."
"You too? What are you looking for?"
"He wants us to scour Gast's old house. Bring back anything Cetra related. We've also got to baby-sit a bunch of researchers."
"Eggheads? Why?"
"Some of the stuff we're taking out is equipment. He wants them to catalogue it."
"Man, and I thought I had a shit job."
"The mansion?"
Reno's eyes flashed at as he recalled the typewritten report with his name stamped across the bottom like some lab animal.
"Yeah. Got a little digging of my own to do."
"And Strife?"
"He's in the same boat, but I'd still like to drown him."
"Watch out for yourself Reno. That one still has it in for you."
"I have it in for me too," the redhead said grimly.
"What? I didn't catch that. The sand storms play hell with reception out here."
"It's nothing. Tell Elena I said to check out the 3rd rotor on the chopper's engine. It sounded off last I flew."
"Right," Rude said slowly sensing the evasion. "She'll handle it. We'll catch you at the meeting place tomorrow night then."
"Yeah," was all Reno could think to say, his mind elsewhere.
"One more thing."
"Mmm?"
"If you're not in Costa del Sol when we are I'll take it as a sign that something went wrong."
"Yeah?"
"I'm worried about you Reno. You're not talking to me."
"I'm fine, just not looking forward to this is all."
"Sure. Remember though."
"I'll be there," Reno said and flicked the off button. Immediately the PHS started ringing again. He sighed.
"What?"
Cloud's voice came through clear and annoyed. "You could have said it was you."
"Not the way you were going on about your sex life."
"She's not my girlfriend Reno and there's definitely no sex involved."
"No wonder you're always in such a bad mood," the Turk countered.
If teeth grinding over a phone line sounded like anything it sounded exactly like what he was hearing now.
"Okay. Not going to get into this now. Are you at the bar?"
Mina appeared with his shot. Reno took it in one gulp and caught her before she had even begun to pick up the tray and ordered another.
"Yeah. Where the fuck are you?"
"Inn. On my way over."
"Hurry up or you'll miss happy hour."
"Wouldn't want to do that." Cloud sounded somewhat grim. Reno didn't like it.
"Just hurry up. I've been waiting a long time."
"Right." And the other line clicked off. Reno stared at the receiver for a moment before turning off his own end. That man needed a drink. Or maybe 10. He knew he certainly did.
*********************
Jaz watched Reno out of the corner of her eye while she mixed drinks and conducted business. She wasn't really sure why she had let him back in after the incident. No presidential order from Reeve would have made any difference to her. She let in who she wanted and that was that. And fighters, especially those who damaged her establishment, usually got a choice between leaving indefinitely or the business end of her shotgun. Jaz could count the number of major fights in her bar on one hand. Two of them were Reno related, though the first had been no fault of his.
Passing a tray loaded with shots to one of her wait staff Jaz took a moment to reassess the man she hadn't seen in three months.
Reno had always been distinguishable from other customers and not just because he was TURK issue. His long red pony-tail and dark uniform were always in attendance, though she had seen the length of hair plaited on one occasion. She had never seen him though, in any other clothes except his birthday suit on a handful occasions. And she honestly didn't think that counted. They went back years since he had first joined the Turks, but their brief relationship had only consisted of a mutual need for company at night. At the moment he seemed to be lacking his usual character. He looked tired and withdrawn. The Reno she knew was loud and mouthy, always getting up on tables and goosing her wait staff. When he had come into the bar there had been none of his usual forceful presence.
Reno had been in a state she'd only thought possible for street people and accident victims. Bloodied, muddied, and smelling like ozone. His eyes had also seemed wider somehow. They had been almost pupiless in a wash of luminous green; astonished or surprised at something she couldn't see, and she knew it hadn't been directed at her.
She gave a mental shrug. Whatever it was it wasn't drugs at least. If he had done anything at one time it no longer made a difference, because what the SOLDIER program did to a body's metabolism was nothing short of amazing. Even caffeine was hard pressed to make a minute difference.
Perhaps she could coax Reno back into himself with a little pick-me-up. Since Junon was essentially a military base Jaz got many SOLDIERs coming through. She had even developed a drink especially to deal with this particular side effect. She called it a 'Limit Break' with good reason, as it had hypers for a main ingredient. Ordinary troops might need medical help after one of those, but for SOLDIERs it was beverage necessity. She herself had one every morning, and thought Reno could use one as well.
Leaning on the counter, blithely ignoring drink orders for the moment, Jaz reflected that she wasn't so much as mad for him showing up, but for not showing up sooner. Reno wasn't a keeper, and she understood that, but she worried that one day he might just stop showing up. Ever. Turks weren't known for retirering.
The way he sat, eyes hidden behind shades, shoulders hunched and paler than seemed healthy, bothered her. A worried Reno was not something she was accustomed to dealing with. Suddenly though, his head perked up and the slouch disappeared. A sly smile crept over his face that left her wondering if she had misjudged his mood. Whoever he had been a minute ago he was certainly Reno Delaney now, crumpled cigarette already lit and positioned to one side.
She followed his gaze across the room and picked out the source of his interest.
There was a man entering the bar with wild blond hair that added inches to a medium sized stature.
He was obviously a mercenary of some kind, with all the shoulder gear and almost unbelievably huge sword. She noted the metal studded gloves and material embedded in his wrist accessory. He wore a short sleeved gray top, close fitting and snug over the chest. Loose black pants were knotted at the waist and the belt harness, though different somehow, looked similar to the kind SOLDIERs wore. He was scanning the crowd and when his gaze passed over hers she bit down a breath because his blue-green eyes held an unmistakable glow. He was a SOLDIER then, but one with a strange taste in weaponry.
Jaz watched as Alma, another of her wait staff, intercepted the man. There was a pause and some gestured conversation directed at the sword. The blond man seemed reluctant to give it up, but Alma prevailed and was rewarded with the harness, blade, and wrist accessory. The girl tried to put on the harness, but had to settle for carrying the whole pile to the weapons cache in her arms. She held the sword awkwardly because of the weight and moved slowly as though she were afraid to cut something even with it in the holder. Instead she managed to take out a few of the slower moving drunks by close-lining them as she passed. The owner of the sword watched her go, wincing as each body hit the floor.
Jaz smiled. This could be interesting, as Turks and ShinRa military were not known for seeing eye to eye. Reaching underneath the counter top she checked to make sure her pulse rifle was charged. Just a precaution, of course.
**************************
Reno saw Cloud enter and in spite of himself he had to grin. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was looking forward to a round of drinking and possible entertainment curtsey of Mr. Probably-couldn't-hold-his-liquor-Strife. Snagging Mina by her apron strings, and managing to cop an of course, purely accidental feel, he quickly ordered a round of L4 Suicides.
She took his order, smacked him soundly, and flounced away giving him an excellent view of her retreating backside.
He returned to attention as Cloud was relieved of the Ultima weapon, waiting patiently and entertaining himself with a bit of an idea when he noticed more than one person eyeing the ex-SOLDIER with interest as he wove his way gracefully around people and stools.
Cloud stopped at Reno's table and pushed bangs out of his eyes, one brow raised in question.
"Well what?" Reno said. "Sit down."
The blond complied by drawing up a stool with his foot and settling in. He gave the bar another cursory glance then asked,
"So, this is where the Turks hang out?"
"Used to anyway. Been too busy lately and Junon hasn't really been an option."
"Why not?"
Reno leaned back in his chair and worked the cigarette to the other side of his mouth.
"Been sorting out Midgar. It's a hell of a mess if you hadn't noticed."
Cloud's face colored a bit, but the drinks came and saved him from answering immediately. He studied the golden liquid and without preamble took the whole thing in one gulp. Reno chewed the end of the cigarette and reassessed Cloud's tolerance. He did live with a bar owner after all, if that intel was still current.
"How's Tifa?" The Turk mouthed around the rim of his glass.
The ex-SOLDIER almost smiled, the obvious amusement tugging at his lips.
"She's still coming up with new and unpleasant ways for you to die."
"Charming."
"Yes. Yes she is."
"She seems to forget the lives she put out."
Cloud opened his mouth, shook his head and said, "Let's //not// get into this. We still have two towns to go."
"Just don't go getting all high and mighty on me. You've killed plenty of people too."
The other man looked lost for a minute on those words, and Reno was almost sorry he'd said it. Almost.
The Turk sniffed and returned his attention back to the half empty glass in front of him. For some reason the liquid seemed more vibrant than usual. Fascinating the way the lights got trapped and distorted in the amber color.
Pretty, he thought, feeling warm. Not drunk though. Not off of this small pittance.
He looked up to see Cloud peering into his own empty glass. The blond waved it in the air to get Jaz's attention and signaled for a bottle of draft from Mideel. He wasn't exactly sure how this was communicated between the two, but she unerringly got it right and with hook shot action, lobbed it at his head. Still eyeing the inside of his glass Cloud stuck out a hand and caught it.
Mina, sensing she was needed, reappeared with whiskey and some carob nuts. The Turk made a simultaneous grab for both, but only got the order and no woman.
"Hey," he said suddenly. "You /do/ have something else to wear!"
Cloud too a swig from the drink and plucked at the gray material of the shirt.
"As opposed to what? My usual gear just needs some attention before I can wear it again."
"Like a nice bonfire perhaps? Why do you hold onto those rags?"
"They were…a gift."
"From?"
"What about your clothes? You don't ever wear anything else."
Reno narrowed his eyes and repeated, "From?"
"Forget it."
The Turk nodded his head as if Cloud had just confirmed something.
"We need to talk," Reno said after a long pause.
"Yeah."
"You seem to know a bit more about this than me. I wanna know why."
Cloud said nothing, seemingly absorbed in peeling the label from the glass piece by piece.
"You said a name in your sleep."
He looked up. "What?"
"Zax."
"So?"
"Zax Tribeca?"
The blond drained the contents of the bottle, his eyes lingering on the last drops as they hit the table when he turned it upside-down.
"Why do you care? It's no big secret. Cait Sith was in AVALANCHE after all so I'm sure Reeve must have told you something. Or you could have checked the files."
"Reeve seems to think it's your business and any files on you and Zax Tribeca are almost non-existent. Which means, someone made an effort to make you two disappear after the Nibelheim incident."
"Incident," Cloud said, not liking the word. "That 'incident' destroyed everything."
"No kidding. It took a town, the General and the General's second in command. You can imagine the confusion. You on the other hand are even more of a mystery."
"How so?"
"Don't play stupid Strife. The private that went to Nibelheim was a seventeen year old trouble maker that had no chance of being in SOLDIER. The physical make up, the psych file… Nothing in there sounds like you at all. Five years later and this guy shows up, says he's Cloud Strife and blows up a reactor. There are also some other inconsistencies that I just want to add so we can lay the cards out nice and straight."
"I'll ask again. Why do you care? We're going to Nibelheim to pick up some files. I don't want to play twenty questions with you. I just want this over with as quickly as possible."
"It has everything to do with this! /Private/Strife never made it into the SOLDIER program. I know that because that was the year I got in. I checked and your name isn't on the list. The last thing with your name on it is a transfer order to go to Nibelheim as part of a clean up crew for some Reactor check up. Except the thing is, you have all the characteristics of someone who was in it."
"Hojo," Cloud said with venom. "That should tell you just about everything."
"No dice Strife. I know about that 'unrecorded' and unauthorized experiment, and I know you have JENOVA cells in you, but what I don't get, and I think one or two eggheads back in Midgar will vouch for this, is how. How you are who you are. I know your file. Christ, I had to memorize it. You're allergic to Mako. That's one of the reasons you couldn't get into SOLDIER. You don't make any sense at all."
Cloud half stood up from his chair and slammed a fist into the table. The empty bottles rattled.
"There's a lot that /I/don't understand! About myself! About then! What do you want from me?!"
Reno put his glass down and looked Cloud in the eyes. Eyes that were bright with anger and frustration, and mako.
"I want to know what happened to you, because maybe it happened to me. You're the only one who knows jack about this 'Recall Project', or whatever the hell kinda name Hojo put to it. Scientists? Gone and dead. Hojo and Meteor didn't spare one between them that the Turks could find way back when Nibelheim went supernova, or before Midgar made a nice imitation of hell. Workers? Same problem, only they wouldn't be able to tell much anyway. Zax Tribeca? He's ain't talking that's for sure. Sephiroth? From what you told Cait Sith about those days the General was the last person to have a look at Gast's or Hojo's notes down in the mansion, and he ain't talking either. What we have here is a serious communication fuck up. I wanna know, and you're the only one left."
Cloud had taken on the look of someone either in shock or suffering from lack of air. His mouth worked but nothing came out and for a moment Reno braced himself to be hit. When animals were backed into a corner sometimes they did crazy things. Strife looked a little gone and Reno wasn't about to get caught off guard. The earliest thing learned, first lesson in the slums.
Instead though, the blond eased himself back into a sitting position, hands pressed to the table as if he needed to feel the wood grain beneath his fingertips. Instead of answering the Turk immediately, he signaled for another drink, and Reno found that he needed one badly. He wasn't drunk enough to keep his hands from shaking, and belatedly realized he was doing a good imitation of Strife with his own hands planted firmly palm down. He removed them and gripped each knee instead.
"Well?"
Cloud wiped the bangs from his eyes and took a breath.
"Well, we have a problem then. A communication fuck up as you call it."
"Why's that? Reeve set you up with something that makes you want to go to Nibelheim. That file you dropped on my desk only had /my/ name in it. You know something else. What did you take out of the file?"
Cloud smiled but there was no warmth in it.
"That's my business Reno."
It was the Turk's turn to get angry.
"Yeah? Well it's my business too! Somebody did something to me and I want to know what it was!"
"Glad you're seeing things from my perspective for a change."
"Not even," Reno hissed. "I'm actually trying to find out. Seems to me you've been avoiding this a long time if you haven't even got a clue as to what happened. If you're not lying that is."
"No lie. I've got a lot of holes where there should be memories, but that doesn't give you any right to comment on my life."
"I think we had this little talk already."
"Yeah, and I'm sick of it. We're both headed to Nibelheim. That's the only thing we have in common."
Their drinks came and the silence drew out into an uncomfortable length. They drank and sat. Heads bowed and thoughts full. Cloud excused himself to the bathroom and Reno wondered blithely if he planned on returning. They had just ordered another round though, so he figured there must be more yet to come…even if they weren't talking. Still, it was if something had burst between them. He wasn't irritated any longer, just empty. Tension and raw nerves from traveling were also unraveling with the alcohol. If they didn't manage anything else productive they'd certainly manage to get properly drunk tonight. At least that was something pre-planned. He hadn't counted on Cloud putting up such a brick wall. Knowing and not telling, or just not knowing. Which was it? Probably both. Files weren't windows into people's souls, but they did speak. There was a pattern here, two really. One was for Strife, the other for a boy who disappeared six years ago. Reno just couldn't make the connection he knew was there. Information was the key to that, and Strife was the only source.
He looked to the bathroom door. Still no Cloud. He looked at the freshly served drinks and considered. Well, there was another option. Seeing as Cloud was apparently not a chatty drunk, or even that drunk at all. He wondered how long it would last against the physical make up of the paradoxical fighter.
Patting the left side of his pants Reno located what he was looking for. A small vial, filled with liquid, came free of the pocket and under the light he peered at the neatly typed label.
MAKO POISON ANTIDOTE
He grinned. If he did this right Cloud would spill his guts faster than a Bahmut slice to the midsection would. This stuff had a lot of side effects, but it was also something the Turks found occasionally useful in tough interrogations. Good thing that doctor's office had had some on hand.
With another peek at the door he whipped out his lighter and passed the flame under the bottom of the tube.
"C'mon…" He said earnestly.
The liquid inside moved slightly and began to take on a pale bluish cast. When it had darkened perceptively he turned it up over Cloud's waiting drink. He knew that heating it up would increase the rate of synthesis into the bloodstream and therefore speed up the process. If Cloud didn't talk soon he'd know that he hadn't warmed it up enough. It took time to activate, hours, sometimes even a day. Subjects that Reno had seen the stuff used on went from quiet to talkative to downright incoherent, like they were trying to speak but couldn't. They also didn't seem to sleep much either afterwards, but what did he care? He was interested in information and if routine questioning didn't get it, other methods worked just as well. Even if the period only lasted the usual hour it would be worth it.
Behind and to the left of him, the bathroom door opened and a morose, but thoughtful looking Cloud stepped out. The blond walked over to the table, hands deep in hidden pockets in the black fabric of his pants. He stopped by his seat and looked at the drinks on the table.
"Well?" The Turk said. "You gonna sit and finish or wimp out? I'm still 2 up on you."
Cloud seemed to consider this and sat down. He sighed, but it was more tolerant than weary. He lifted the drink, swirled the liquor around a bit, then set it down. Reno watched him carefully, fingers twitching slightly.
"One question," Cloud said.
"Hmmm?"
"How did you get those scars?" He pointed to the pink lines adorning Reno's cheeks.
Reno grinned and took a swig from his bourbon.
"How did you get yours?" And indicated the long white line from Cloud's elbow to wrist.
The ex-SOLDIER closed his eyes and smiled faintly.
"Fair enough," he said and tilted the glass all the way back into his upturned lips.
Fair enough, Reno mouthed silently. He hid his exultation behind his own glass as he saw drops spill over the sides of Cloud's mouth to trail amber lines over the jaw and down into the tan hollow of the throat.
Drink up you bastard. Drink up.
* * * * * * *
Authors Note: Wow. Um…that was long and involved. I've been drafting this for a couple of days, pouring over where I'm going with it and why I can't seem to get there any faster. *l* For everyone who was looking forward to that table dance fear not, I will not disappoint you again! This chapter was just stretching waaaay too long. I mean 30 pages is 3 times what I normally put out. My eyes hurt, your eyes hurt. I'll just save that little bit of insanity for next time to lighten up the mood. Not intentionally stringing you along…heh. So, next time, Cloud, a table, and destiny. Or just fools and folly. Riiiiiight. Oh, and I have a habit of integrating my readers into the story. Keep watch, they pop up every chapter.
-Mo
By the way: as usual I will plug the page where I have the entire story, art and yadda yadda. I made banners as well if anyone cares to link directly, as updates usually hit there first. http://www.geocities.com/w_a_k_i_n_g