Conversations with Lorelei
Author's note: My deepest apologies for the wait...this would have been up much, much sooner had my server not decided to be completely and utterly evil, and refuse to let me on....pretty much since chapter two went up. (Free internet: you get what you pay for.) My thanks to everyone who reviewed; your comments feed my ego enough to convince me this story is worth continuing.
Anywayz, because of Cait Sith's being a stuffed animal and all, this segment of the story is about Reeve instead. (I actually like Reeve...but then I'm a little odd.) Please enjoy, and remember that the more reviews I get, the sooner (server willing) the tale shall be continued.
***
Grasping at Straws
Lorelei could only groan as the alarm clock went off in the next room, and silently berated herself for not bringing it into her own room, where she could easily stop its irritating buzz.
"Shut up..." she sleepily murmured, knowing full well that the little machine was not particularly likely to listen to her.
The girl half-rolled, half-fell out of bed. She was glad, indeed, that there was no one present to see her try to rub her aching left shoulder and wipe the sleep from her eyes at the same time; the attempt was actually coordinated poorly enough that her hands collided. The hardwood floor was cold beneath her bare feet, and she nearly tripped on her way down the stairs.
"You're a mean, terrible man, Vincent," she muttered, rubbing her shoulder more successfully, "The recoil on that gun you gave me doesn't seem like much at the time...but damn, does it catch up with you in the morning...I need coffee...and painkiller..."
She swore under her breath when she reached the kitchen, and found the coffee can completely empty. Grumbling all the while, she pulled a soda out of the refrigerator, and took a bottle of medication down from the spice rack.
"Let's see...The bottle says to take two. Eh, four won't kill me..."
It was not until she had swallowed the pills, and begun to eat the marshmallows out of a bag of cereal, that Lorelei realized that there was someone pounding on the window. Had she been any less tired, she would have laughed aloud as she peered out the pane of glass.
Renate Terrings was outside, her cheeks as red as her hair, and a scowl upon her face that could have curdled milk. Her curls, always so carefully tended, were in disarray nearly as great as the ponytail Lorelei hadn't bothered trying to fix in four days, and her eyes seemed small, almost beady, without mascara and shadow to accentuate them. Perhaps best of all, a pair of glasses with round, hot-pink plastic frames were perched on her nose.
Lorelei couldn't resist making faces at the window for at least two minutes before opening it.
"What the HELL do you think you're doing?!" Renate demanded, when Lorelei had finally slid the window open.
"Exercising," Lorelei said, crossing her arms to keep her hands in the folds of her flannel pajamas as the cold air blew in, "I wouldn't want my face to get out of shape, now would I?"
"Oh, who cares?! You're hopeless anyway," the red-haired girl said, rolling her eyes.
"The glasses are a nice touch. Clash a little with your hair, though."
"Shut up, you little-!"
"Gladly," Lorelei shrugged, reaching over to close the window.
"Don't you DARE!" Renate shouted, "I meant you should shut your sarcastic little mouth!"
"I'm so sorry I didn't know. I sent my third eye-you know, the one that lets me see what spoiled brats think-to the cleaners, so..."
"That's exactly what I mean," Renate said with an exasperated sigh.
"Your breath is terrible. Is there a reason you're blowing it into my house, other than the fact that you're just evil?"
"You left your stupid alarm clock on...do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Before midnight, unless time flies when you're speaking with demons. And that's impossible I don't own an alarm clock, myself."
"Your brother's, then."
"Ian didn't leave his alarm clock on."
"I know he didn't you little dumb blonde! He couldn't've, since he's dead! You left his alarm clock on!"
Lorelei's blue eyes narrowed, at that, her expression becoming deathly serious.
"Go away, Renate."
"And why should I?"
"Because I have a gun."
"You do NOT, liar!"
"Your mastery of denial is impressive..." Lorelei said in perfect monotone, as she reached into the kitchen drawer and pulled out the little pistol.
"Th-that isn't real..." Renate stammered.
"Isn't it?" Lorelei asked, arching an eyebrow.
"...I'll get you back for this!" the red-haired girl screamed, running back for her own house.
Lorelei couldn't help but snicker as she got ready to leave.
***
By the time she stepped into the Shinra mansion, Lorelei's mood was greatly improved; enough so that, when she saw the flash of crimson that betrayed Vincent's presence among the shadows, she sprinted over and wrapped her arms around him.
"Vincent! You wouldn't believe how great acting like you is at getting annoying people to go away!" she cried happily.
The raven-haired man seemed to go stock-still the moment she touched him, and he spoke, several moments later, his voice seemed frantic, with an edge of rage that made the girl stagger back.
"Apparently, it is not nearly effective enough!" he snapped, his usually-quiet voice rising almost to a shout.
The angry flash in Vincent's red eyes made Lorelei's own eyes widen with fear, and, when she tried to speak an apology, she found her teeth chattering, and her throat too tight to allow her more than a strained squeak. She felt as though the cold fire in those eyes was tearing at her very soul. She tried to look away, but somehow, could not quite manage the task. It seemed almost as though Vincent grew even taller than Postmaster Danvers could hope to be, towering over the young girl like the larger-than-life statue of an ancient and ruthless monarch.
"Never touch me again," was his frigid hiss.
Every word might just as well have been etched upon a heavy stone and thrown at the young girl.
For the first time in her young life, Lorelei Calldrick, whose pride had always been enough to make her seem the bravest creature on the planet, was frightened enough that she simply fainted.
***
"...So you've awakened, after all..."
Vincent's voice was smooth and quiet once more, and held a trace of remorse, but as she stirred, Lorelei still did not dare to open her eyes.
"I...I guess four painkillers, colored marshmallows, and cream soda isn't a balanced breakfast..." she said meekly.
"It...is gracious of you to offer that excuse..." he replied.
"...I wasn't scared..." she said, almost inaudibly, and not at all believably.
"...And I was not terribly out-of-line..."
"Glad we got that cleared up," she said with a weak smile, finally opening her eyes.
She blinked several times, as though not quite believing her surroundings.
"Vincent...why am I in a coffin? An open one, granted, and the lining is nice and velvety, don't get my wrong, I'm grateful for that, but...This is definitely a coffin..."
"Perhaps I did not expect you to wake," he said, his expression and tone completely unreadable.
"I really need to figure out how to tell when you're kidding," Lorelei said, shaking her head, "Or I am so going to have a heart attack before I'm twenty."
"I thought you were not frightened."
"Touche`," she replied, with a bit of a laugh, "So anyway, I guess we'll be starting lessons, then..."
"I think you should rest a bit longer before you try to stand," he replied, "And I believe you should also have something a bit more substantial to eat...particularly considering your little overdose."
"Do you think I overdosed on sugar, or medication?"
"Both."
"Oh, come on...I'll be fine!" she protested.
"Do you want to hear a story, or not?" he asked, handing her a plate with a sandwich on it, and a glass of milk.
"Fine..." the girl pouted, "But do I have to stay in the coffin?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Think of it as a lesson...a reminder of what might happen if you ignore too many labels on pill bottles."
"You really aren't going to let go of that one, are you?" she asked, exasperated, "It was your fault anyway...my shoulder hurt like hell after all that target practice yesterday."
"Blaming others for your own irresponsible actions will achieve nothing. Gaining skill with any weapon is no easy task, and if your are unwilling to accept that, I will stop instructing you, and take back my gun."
"Okay, okay, I get it..." Lorelei sighed, taking a bite of the sandwich, "...and you really shouldn't use so much mustard."
"I would consider myself at fault, but since you just spoke with your mouth full, I suppose we can call it even."
Lorelei rolled her eyes, but swallowed before she spoke again.
"So are you going to tell me what happened to Naomi, now?"
"No," he answered simply.
"What? You said you were going to tell a story..."
"There is a story that comes before the next segment of hers..." Vincent began, "Doubtless, you have heard of Shinra corporation, and of Midgar...and of Cait Sith, the spy that betrayed Cloud during our quest."
"Yeah," Lorelei replied, "But that part was kind of weird...I mean, a little toy cat helping save the world and all? You just don't see that every day."
"Men with red eyes and metal limbs are far more common, I suppose?"
"I've seen more of those than I've seen kitty-bots."
"...At any rate, Cait Sith was the invention of Reeve; the one Shinra executive who seemed to have any concern for the people of Midgar. By no means was Reeve a perfect man. Often, he allowed himself to become a slave to his situation, as he did when he gave the Keystone to the enemies of our company...but by and large, his heart was true. He felt distanced from the rest of us, as his only connection to the party was through Cait, his robotic creation. So, too, did he feel inadequate, believing that what he had done to aid us took no bravery. He did not put his life on the line by charging into battle himself...he left that to a toy he had given some parody of life. Reeve was to face a battle far worse than the one we fought.
"After the threat of meteor was banished, the gangs that had hidden in Midgar's slums believed that, with Shinra toppled, their time had come to rule the city. The crime rate soared to an impossible level. Those not killed fighting for one gang or another were all too often slaughtered in the crossfire. The only law that reigned on those streets was that of power. Whatever a person could find a way to take, belonged to him.
"Reeve took it upon himself to try and save the city. Few seemed to care that he existed, and even fewer seemed at all swayed by any words he said. Scarcely any of Shinra's old security forces were willing to follow his command. Most of those guards had either been killed, or had fled to some calmer city, fearing for their lives. Only in those who had been our enemies, did Reeve find any support.
"The TURKs were one of Shinra's most elite teams...Long ago, I was a part of that group myself...and in the aftermath of Sephiroth's defeat, the three surviving TURKs, Reno, Rude, and Elena, were some of the few souls that chose to stay by Reeve's side. They commanded some respect, or at least fear, in the slums of Midgar, and, with their aid, Reeve managed to make some progress. Workers were gathered together to begin demolishing the plates that kept the sun from the slums, and building better housing in the original villages. Ever-so-slowly, progress was made. Reeve spent every bit of treasure he had gathered through Cait Sith trying to infuse the city with life, and would likely have neglected himself altogether, if not for Elena.
"Elena was the lowest-ranking of the TURKs, and the only woman. It was she who had convinced the others that helping Reeve would be worthwhile, and it was she who cared for Reeve. She always made certain he did not skip meals, that he slept, and that he stayed in reasonable health. The two got along well, indeed, and before long, were married in a quiet, efficient little ceremony. Both returned to work the next day. Elena told her new husband that, if they chose to take a honeymoon, he would only spend his time worrying about the city. So Reeve promised her that, as soon as the city was back in order, he would have a new leader chosen, and simply retire.
"Change came with all the speed of a moss-covered stone. Where the TURKs and their hastily-assembled peacekeeping forces were, the city became hushed, but that peace proved only to be the calm before the storm. Only tiny sections of the rebuilt city remained safe. Gang wars waged on. Midgar's people still lived in fear. In his desperation, Reeve called for the aid of his old friends, of the company that had erased the threat of meteor. Most only sent money. They had their own lives to live, they told him. At first, I did nothing whatever to aid him, save for acting as a sounding board.
"Finally, after Reeve's tenth year trying to save Midgar, Elena paid me a visit. She berated me, told me that I had forgotten what it meant to be a TURK. I was called an apathetic coward for abandoning a friend as I had abandoned Reeve. She feared an all-out revolt; the people were outraged with Reeve's seeming lack of progress. I went back to Midgar with Elena, to aid Reeve in what even he believed would be his last stand.
"We were literally moments too late. I saw Reeve standing atop a pile of rubble that had once been one of the new housing projects he spoke of with such pride. Reno and Rude stood at his either side, already crouched for a fight, their eyes steeled with the courage that comes from knowing that death will find you before the day is through. The crowd was gathered around the little mound, roaring like the sea with a thousand cries of rage. Reeve's hair was gray, his face etched and marred by years of worry, but in his eyes there was only determination and grief. He loved Midgar, and all of its people; saw building and person alike as his children, and hated to see them at war.
'My friends!' he called out, his voice somehow rising above the crowd, 'My friends! I beg of you, still your rage! I fear I have no time for a great speech...I must only tell you that I truly believe that, if we can set aside our grudges, truly, we can see this city reborn!'
The angry, mocking cries that came as the crowd's reply were almost deafening. It was all I could do to hold Elena back, and keep her from rushing into the mass of fury to try in vain to reach her husband's side.
'I have been the servant of each man here,' Reeve said, his voice raised once more, though his tone now held only weariness and defeat, 'If you think me a failure, and an abomination...I only pray that my blood will be the thing to unite you.'
"The crowd became an angry tide of guns, and knives, and chains. It engulfed the three figures on the rock. Reno and Rude fought valiantly, holding the army back for several minutes. Reeve refused to raise a hand against his people; he was the first truly benevolent king this world has ever known. He would not stop the revolt of the masses to save his own life, not if it meant that the blood of even one of his subjects would be on his hands. The two warriors who stood by him could only hold out for so long. I lost my grip on Elena, and she submerged herself in the riot, vengeance in her eyes.
"To my knowledge, all four of them were killed. I cannot say for certain, for the remains the crowd left could never have been identified. The blood wasn't enough to quench the mob's rage. It went on for fifteen days, and left Midgar in ruins. To this day, I do not know how I left that forsaken city alive. There were few who did. Midgar was soon abandoned; even by dying, Reeve could not save it. The blood of a noble martyr, it seemed, was not worth so much as it once was.
"Perhaps things would have been different, had Elena arrived sooner. Perhaps the only thing accomplished would have been that the last of the TURKs died together. Perhaps it would have been better that way.
"An old proverb says that even the greatest of lions cannot triumph if a million rats stand against him. Midgar was too great a challenge even for Reeve, but he refused to admit defeat. He spent the final years of his life fighting an uphill battle, grasping at straws as tightly as he could. He died trying. I cannot say if that is a thing to be admired. I see little difference between one death and another. Reeve's love for that city destroyed him...but I heard his voice, and looked into his eyes. He had no regrets.
"For that, I envy him."
"So you've gathered a few regrets?" Lorelei asked, silently kicking herself for asking such a thing.
"...Do you truly believe I would be in the basement of this mansion if I had none?"
"Well, you don't exactly seem the type to lounge on some beach in Costa del Sol...but point taken."
"The story seemed hardly to affect you, this time."
"Maybe I'm getting used to you."
"And maybe you are simply too overmedicated to be at all in touch with your emotions."
"So is that how you do it, Vincent?"
"...touche`."
"Welp, now that we're tied, so far as the arguments where we kept score, and I've eaten that overly-mustarded sandwich, I guess it's time for me to get back to what made me sore in the first place."
"The sheer volume of non-words you know is incredible..."
"Careful, or I'll just start making crap up without even trying to form it from discernible words."
"Indeed...I suppose I should keep you occupied before you invent your own language, and expect me to understand it..."
***
When Lorelei arrived at home, she saw, in the dwindling light of evening, that the letter from New Hill Family Services had been taped to her front door. She resisted the temptation to simply use it for a bit more target practice, and elected, instead, to climb up the drainpipe and enter her house through her bedroom window.
Then, at least, she could say she had not gone in through the front door, and would have an excuse for not taking the letter. She knew that ignoring the letter would do little to solve the problem of its existence; but at least it could buy her some time in which she did not have to deal with it.
It could buy her time, until her brother returned.
Author's note: My deepest apologies for the wait...this would have been up much, much sooner had my server not decided to be completely and utterly evil, and refuse to let me on....pretty much since chapter two went up. (Free internet: you get what you pay for.) My thanks to everyone who reviewed; your comments feed my ego enough to convince me this story is worth continuing.
Anywayz, because of Cait Sith's being a stuffed animal and all, this segment of the story is about Reeve instead. (I actually like Reeve...but then I'm a little odd.) Please enjoy, and remember that the more reviews I get, the sooner (server willing) the tale shall be continued.
***
Grasping at Straws
Lorelei could only groan as the alarm clock went off in the next room, and silently berated herself for not bringing it into her own room, where she could easily stop its irritating buzz.
"Shut up..." she sleepily murmured, knowing full well that the little machine was not particularly likely to listen to her.
The girl half-rolled, half-fell out of bed. She was glad, indeed, that there was no one present to see her try to rub her aching left shoulder and wipe the sleep from her eyes at the same time; the attempt was actually coordinated poorly enough that her hands collided. The hardwood floor was cold beneath her bare feet, and she nearly tripped on her way down the stairs.
"You're a mean, terrible man, Vincent," she muttered, rubbing her shoulder more successfully, "The recoil on that gun you gave me doesn't seem like much at the time...but damn, does it catch up with you in the morning...I need coffee...and painkiller..."
She swore under her breath when she reached the kitchen, and found the coffee can completely empty. Grumbling all the while, she pulled a soda out of the refrigerator, and took a bottle of medication down from the spice rack.
"Let's see...The bottle says to take two. Eh, four won't kill me..."
It was not until she had swallowed the pills, and begun to eat the marshmallows out of a bag of cereal, that Lorelei realized that there was someone pounding on the window. Had she been any less tired, she would have laughed aloud as she peered out the pane of glass.
Renate Terrings was outside, her cheeks as red as her hair, and a scowl upon her face that could have curdled milk. Her curls, always so carefully tended, were in disarray nearly as great as the ponytail Lorelei hadn't bothered trying to fix in four days, and her eyes seemed small, almost beady, without mascara and shadow to accentuate them. Perhaps best of all, a pair of glasses with round, hot-pink plastic frames were perched on her nose.
Lorelei couldn't resist making faces at the window for at least two minutes before opening it.
"What the HELL do you think you're doing?!" Renate demanded, when Lorelei had finally slid the window open.
"Exercising," Lorelei said, crossing her arms to keep her hands in the folds of her flannel pajamas as the cold air blew in, "I wouldn't want my face to get out of shape, now would I?"
"Oh, who cares?! You're hopeless anyway," the red-haired girl said, rolling her eyes.
"The glasses are a nice touch. Clash a little with your hair, though."
"Shut up, you little-!"
"Gladly," Lorelei shrugged, reaching over to close the window.
"Don't you DARE!" Renate shouted, "I meant you should shut your sarcastic little mouth!"
"I'm so sorry I didn't know. I sent my third eye-you know, the one that lets me see what spoiled brats think-to the cleaners, so..."
"That's exactly what I mean," Renate said with an exasperated sigh.
"Your breath is terrible. Is there a reason you're blowing it into my house, other than the fact that you're just evil?"
"You left your stupid alarm clock on...do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Before midnight, unless time flies when you're speaking with demons. And that's impossible I don't own an alarm clock, myself."
"Your brother's, then."
"Ian didn't leave his alarm clock on."
"I know he didn't you little dumb blonde! He couldn't've, since he's dead! You left his alarm clock on!"
Lorelei's blue eyes narrowed, at that, her expression becoming deathly serious.
"Go away, Renate."
"And why should I?"
"Because I have a gun."
"You do NOT, liar!"
"Your mastery of denial is impressive..." Lorelei said in perfect monotone, as she reached into the kitchen drawer and pulled out the little pistol.
"Th-that isn't real..." Renate stammered.
"Isn't it?" Lorelei asked, arching an eyebrow.
"...I'll get you back for this!" the red-haired girl screamed, running back for her own house.
Lorelei couldn't help but snicker as she got ready to leave.
***
By the time she stepped into the Shinra mansion, Lorelei's mood was greatly improved; enough so that, when she saw the flash of crimson that betrayed Vincent's presence among the shadows, she sprinted over and wrapped her arms around him.
"Vincent! You wouldn't believe how great acting like you is at getting annoying people to go away!" she cried happily.
The raven-haired man seemed to go stock-still the moment she touched him, and he spoke, several moments later, his voice seemed frantic, with an edge of rage that made the girl stagger back.
"Apparently, it is not nearly effective enough!" he snapped, his usually-quiet voice rising almost to a shout.
The angry flash in Vincent's red eyes made Lorelei's own eyes widen with fear, and, when she tried to speak an apology, she found her teeth chattering, and her throat too tight to allow her more than a strained squeak. She felt as though the cold fire in those eyes was tearing at her very soul. She tried to look away, but somehow, could not quite manage the task. It seemed almost as though Vincent grew even taller than Postmaster Danvers could hope to be, towering over the young girl like the larger-than-life statue of an ancient and ruthless monarch.
"Never touch me again," was his frigid hiss.
Every word might just as well have been etched upon a heavy stone and thrown at the young girl.
For the first time in her young life, Lorelei Calldrick, whose pride had always been enough to make her seem the bravest creature on the planet, was frightened enough that she simply fainted.
***
"...So you've awakened, after all..."
Vincent's voice was smooth and quiet once more, and held a trace of remorse, but as she stirred, Lorelei still did not dare to open her eyes.
"I...I guess four painkillers, colored marshmallows, and cream soda isn't a balanced breakfast..." she said meekly.
"It...is gracious of you to offer that excuse..." he replied.
"...I wasn't scared..." she said, almost inaudibly, and not at all believably.
"...And I was not terribly out-of-line..."
"Glad we got that cleared up," she said with a weak smile, finally opening her eyes.
She blinked several times, as though not quite believing her surroundings.
"Vincent...why am I in a coffin? An open one, granted, and the lining is nice and velvety, don't get my wrong, I'm grateful for that, but...This is definitely a coffin..."
"Perhaps I did not expect you to wake," he said, his expression and tone completely unreadable.
"I really need to figure out how to tell when you're kidding," Lorelei said, shaking her head, "Or I am so going to have a heart attack before I'm twenty."
"I thought you were not frightened."
"Touche`," she replied, with a bit of a laugh, "So anyway, I guess we'll be starting lessons, then..."
"I think you should rest a bit longer before you try to stand," he replied, "And I believe you should also have something a bit more substantial to eat...particularly considering your little overdose."
"Do you think I overdosed on sugar, or medication?"
"Both."
"Oh, come on...I'll be fine!" she protested.
"Do you want to hear a story, or not?" he asked, handing her a plate with a sandwich on it, and a glass of milk.
"Fine..." the girl pouted, "But do I have to stay in the coffin?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Think of it as a lesson...a reminder of what might happen if you ignore too many labels on pill bottles."
"You really aren't going to let go of that one, are you?" she asked, exasperated, "It was your fault anyway...my shoulder hurt like hell after all that target practice yesterday."
"Blaming others for your own irresponsible actions will achieve nothing. Gaining skill with any weapon is no easy task, and if your are unwilling to accept that, I will stop instructing you, and take back my gun."
"Okay, okay, I get it..." Lorelei sighed, taking a bite of the sandwich, "...and you really shouldn't use so much mustard."
"I would consider myself at fault, but since you just spoke with your mouth full, I suppose we can call it even."
Lorelei rolled her eyes, but swallowed before she spoke again.
"So are you going to tell me what happened to Naomi, now?"
"No," he answered simply.
"What? You said you were going to tell a story..."
"There is a story that comes before the next segment of hers..." Vincent began, "Doubtless, you have heard of Shinra corporation, and of Midgar...and of Cait Sith, the spy that betrayed Cloud during our quest."
"Yeah," Lorelei replied, "But that part was kind of weird...I mean, a little toy cat helping save the world and all? You just don't see that every day."
"Men with red eyes and metal limbs are far more common, I suppose?"
"I've seen more of those than I've seen kitty-bots."
"...At any rate, Cait Sith was the invention of Reeve; the one Shinra executive who seemed to have any concern for the people of Midgar. By no means was Reeve a perfect man. Often, he allowed himself to become a slave to his situation, as he did when he gave the Keystone to the enemies of our company...but by and large, his heart was true. He felt distanced from the rest of us, as his only connection to the party was through Cait, his robotic creation. So, too, did he feel inadequate, believing that what he had done to aid us took no bravery. He did not put his life on the line by charging into battle himself...he left that to a toy he had given some parody of life. Reeve was to face a battle far worse than the one we fought.
"After the threat of meteor was banished, the gangs that had hidden in Midgar's slums believed that, with Shinra toppled, their time had come to rule the city. The crime rate soared to an impossible level. Those not killed fighting for one gang or another were all too often slaughtered in the crossfire. The only law that reigned on those streets was that of power. Whatever a person could find a way to take, belonged to him.
"Reeve took it upon himself to try and save the city. Few seemed to care that he existed, and even fewer seemed at all swayed by any words he said. Scarcely any of Shinra's old security forces were willing to follow his command. Most of those guards had either been killed, or had fled to some calmer city, fearing for their lives. Only in those who had been our enemies, did Reeve find any support.
"The TURKs were one of Shinra's most elite teams...Long ago, I was a part of that group myself...and in the aftermath of Sephiroth's defeat, the three surviving TURKs, Reno, Rude, and Elena, were some of the few souls that chose to stay by Reeve's side. They commanded some respect, or at least fear, in the slums of Midgar, and, with their aid, Reeve managed to make some progress. Workers were gathered together to begin demolishing the plates that kept the sun from the slums, and building better housing in the original villages. Ever-so-slowly, progress was made. Reeve spent every bit of treasure he had gathered through Cait Sith trying to infuse the city with life, and would likely have neglected himself altogether, if not for Elena.
"Elena was the lowest-ranking of the TURKs, and the only woman. It was she who had convinced the others that helping Reeve would be worthwhile, and it was she who cared for Reeve. She always made certain he did not skip meals, that he slept, and that he stayed in reasonable health. The two got along well, indeed, and before long, were married in a quiet, efficient little ceremony. Both returned to work the next day. Elena told her new husband that, if they chose to take a honeymoon, he would only spend his time worrying about the city. So Reeve promised her that, as soon as the city was back in order, he would have a new leader chosen, and simply retire.
"Change came with all the speed of a moss-covered stone. Where the TURKs and their hastily-assembled peacekeeping forces were, the city became hushed, but that peace proved only to be the calm before the storm. Only tiny sections of the rebuilt city remained safe. Gang wars waged on. Midgar's people still lived in fear. In his desperation, Reeve called for the aid of his old friends, of the company that had erased the threat of meteor. Most only sent money. They had their own lives to live, they told him. At first, I did nothing whatever to aid him, save for acting as a sounding board.
"Finally, after Reeve's tenth year trying to save Midgar, Elena paid me a visit. She berated me, told me that I had forgotten what it meant to be a TURK. I was called an apathetic coward for abandoning a friend as I had abandoned Reeve. She feared an all-out revolt; the people were outraged with Reeve's seeming lack of progress. I went back to Midgar with Elena, to aid Reeve in what even he believed would be his last stand.
"We were literally moments too late. I saw Reeve standing atop a pile of rubble that had once been one of the new housing projects he spoke of with such pride. Reno and Rude stood at his either side, already crouched for a fight, their eyes steeled with the courage that comes from knowing that death will find you before the day is through. The crowd was gathered around the little mound, roaring like the sea with a thousand cries of rage. Reeve's hair was gray, his face etched and marred by years of worry, but in his eyes there was only determination and grief. He loved Midgar, and all of its people; saw building and person alike as his children, and hated to see them at war.
'My friends!' he called out, his voice somehow rising above the crowd, 'My friends! I beg of you, still your rage! I fear I have no time for a great speech...I must only tell you that I truly believe that, if we can set aside our grudges, truly, we can see this city reborn!'
The angry, mocking cries that came as the crowd's reply were almost deafening. It was all I could do to hold Elena back, and keep her from rushing into the mass of fury to try in vain to reach her husband's side.
'I have been the servant of each man here,' Reeve said, his voice raised once more, though his tone now held only weariness and defeat, 'If you think me a failure, and an abomination...I only pray that my blood will be the thing to unite you.'
"The crowd became an angry tide of guns, and knives, and chains. It engulfed the three figures on the rock. Reno and Rude fought valiantly, holding the army back for several minutes. Reeve refused to raise a hand against his people; he was the first truly benevolent king this world has ever known. He would not stop the revolt of the masses to save his own life, not if it meant that the blood of even one of his subjects would be on his hands. The two warriors who stood by him could only hold out for so long. I lost my grip on Elena, and she submerged herself in the riot, vengeance in her eyes.
"To my knowledge, all four of them were killed. I cannot say for certain, for the remains the crowd left could never have been identified. The blood wasn't enough to quench the mob's rage. It went on for fifteen days, and left Midgar in ruins. To this day, I do not know how I left that forsaken city alive. There were few who did. Midgar was soon abandoned; even by dying, Reeve could not save it. The blood of a noble martyr, it seemed, was not worth so much as it once was.
"Perhaps things would have been different, had Elena arrived sooner. Perhaps the only thing accomplished would have been that the last of the TURKs died together. Perhaps it would have been better that way.
"An old proverb says that even the greatest of lions cannot triumph if a million rats stand against him. Midgar was too great a challenge even for Reeve, but he refused to admit defeat. He spent the final years of his life fighting an uphill battle, grasping at straws as tightly as he could. He died trying. I cannot say if that is a thing to be admired. I see little difference between one death and another. Reeve's love for that city destroyed him...but I heard his voice, and looked into his eyes. He had no regrets.
"For that, I envy him."
"So you've gathered a few regrets?" Lorelei asked, silently kicking herself for asking such a thing.
"...Do you truly believe I would be in the basement of this mansion if I had none?"
"Well, you don't exactly seem the type to lounge on some beach in Costa del Sol...but point taken."
"The story seemed hardly to affect you, this time."
"Maybe I'm getting used to you."
"And maybe you are simply too overmedicated to be at all in touch with your emotions."
"So is that how you do it, Vincent?"
"...touche`."
"Welp, now that we're tied, so far as the arguments where we kept score, and I've eaten that overly-mustarded sandwich, I guess it's time for me to get back to what made me sore in the first place."
"The sheer volume of non-words you know is incredible..."
"Careful, or I'll just start making crap up without even trying to form it from discernible words."
"Indeed...I suppose I should keep you occupied before you invent your own language, and expect me to understand it..."
***
When Lorelei arrived at home, she saw, in the dwindling light of evening, that the letter from New Hill Family Services had been taped to her front door. She resisted the temptation to simply use it for a bit more target practice, and elected, instead, to climb up the drainpipe and enter her house through her bedroom window.
Then, at least, she could say she had not gone in through the front door, and would have an excuse for not taking the letter. She knew that ignoring the letter would do little to solve the problem of its existence; but at least it could buy her some time in which she did not have to deal with it.
It could buy her time, until her brother returned.