A/N: Wow, this chapter's long. I guess it makes up for the fact that this'll be the last update for a while; maybe a chapter during Easter (oh excuse me, the SPRING HOLIDAY), but don't hold your breath. For sure there'll be one in May though. After like, the first week, once I've taken the TAKS and the SAT and the AP and all those acronym tests they'll want me to take.

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3. Drunkenly sober

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Will I ever get to where I'm going?

Will I ever follow through with what I had planned?

I guess it's possible that I have been a bit distracted

And the directions for me are a lot less in demand.

Will I ever get to where I'm going?

If I do, will I know when I am there?

If the wind blew me in the right direction

Would I even care?

I would.

-Nowhere Fast, Incubus

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After properly raising enough hell over the prank, Cloud calmed down enough to ask Zack and Reeve to go with him to the Battle of the Bands Friday night. Not surprisingly, both boys just stood there staring at him, hesitating to respond out of suspicion that it was just a cunningly disguised trick of payback. Of course, they were really giving Cloud too much credit. Eventually Zack confessed that he and his siblings were going to visit Gongaga for the weekend. But he did clearly tell them to expect a call from him on Saturday to find out what happened with Tifa. If anything was going to happen.

That left Reeve, who was not too thrilled about having to sneak out of the house behind his father's back. See, Mr. Arkanian was a dictator. Not for a living, of course, just as a hobby. And no, playing dictator did not involve the use of a military uniform, a whip, and kinky leather. It involved Mr. Arkanian constantly barking orders and criticisms at the submissive Reeve, telling him to stop wasting his time with gadgets and to take up a sport or to do chores or something. Mr. Arkanian often said that it instilled character in his son; Cloud and Zack knew that it did just the opposite. But despite his fears, Reeve eventually did agree to come, informing Cloud that he owed him "very much big time" for this.

Friday night Cloud made some last-minute preparations for his first concert. Having memorized all of the names of the band on tonight's venue Cloud had found out that all of them were either punk and/or metal bands. As a result he decided to properly dress for the occasion. So once Reno left the house to commit whatever hooligan crimes he and his friends had planned for the night, Cloud took the liberty of raiding his brother's closet. But nothing really appealed to him; the black shirts with the clever little messages ("How many vegetables had to die for your stupid salad?!") on them really weren't his thing, and he figured that the pants with dozens of chains dangling from the pockets were probably a safety hazard. Finally Cloud settled on his own black shirt, cargos, and combat boots, borrowing only Reno's shabby yet "punkish" military jacket.

They took the train down to Sector 3's Elwood Park, and in within a half an hour the two found themselves in the middle of a dangerously rowdy mosh pit smelling of pot smoke, alcohol, foul sweat, and who knew what else. Cloud wouldn't abandon his place in the crowd, though. He would repeatedly jump up and down appearing as if was moshing, but his motive in doing this was to scan the crowd for Tifa. It wasn't until Reeve yanked him by the shirt and forcibly pushed his way out of the unruly pit that they got out. It was an uncharacteristic move for Reeve; but then again, it was uncharacteristic for him to be roaming around all the fetid, dank, and unbelievably aggressive people swarming around him. Cloud did start to feel pretty bad for having dragged his friend to an event like this. Zack would have enjoyed all the thrashing about, but Reeve was definitely not having any fun.

"You wanna go get some water or something, Reeve?" Cloud yelled over the all the noise, feeling sorry for him.

"Well I don't know, have the people who run this pig pen pissed in it?" He replied sarcastically. Someone bumped into him from behind; a shirtless tattooed rocker reeking with the smell of throw up. Mumbling something that sounded like an apology, he stumbled past the two boys, Reeve looking after him with disgust.

Cloud scratched his head. "Look, I'm really sorry man. I didn't know it would be this..crazy. If you want to go home then I'll under-"

"No." Reeve answered firmly, making sure to look Cloud right in the eye. "You find Tifa first, make out with her, propose to her, whatever, and then get the hell out of here. That's the plan."

Cloud stared at the scrawny boy getting shoved around in every direction by the unruly moshers around him, impressed by the guy's steadfastness despite these uncomfortable circumstances. "You're sure?"

"Listen, I'm not going to abandon you in the middle of this orgy, okay? Besides, I've lived in the slums since I was a kid. I'm used to shitty places like this."

A grin appeared on Cloud's face as he followed his friend out. "Thanks for being loyal, Reeve."

"Yeah well, I won't be loyal for long if you don't hurry up with this whole matter of yours. But let's go get some air first and then dive back in, eh?"

They did so, deciding to stop by the concession stand for drinks. And though Reeve's suspicions of the water turned out to be false, he really couldn't say the same about the soda.

"Do you know that this stuff is crap?" Reeve asked the vendor.

"I know it better than anyone, man," the junkie vendor replied. "Not our fault, though. Factory's based in Junon, and the 'fresher' shipments are usually shipped to the upper plate first. By the time the cheap batches get down here they're flatter than your little sister's chest."

Reeve pointed out that he didn't have a little sister, but the guy had inexplicably started rocking his head violently to the music. The boys exchanged looks and Cloud shrugged, motioning for his friend to follow him out of the crowd. They climbed up top of an old school bus, where a few couples had chosen to make out. With everyone too preoccupied to give them permission to sit, Cloud and Reeve went ahead and sat on the edge, their legs dangling over the side of the bus.

"Hey Reeve," Cloud said, as he started to scan the crowd, looking for Tifa, "you could invent a soda re-carbonator. It'd be useful, and lucrative, too. No more would the people of the slums have to suffer drinking stale soda."

For some reason, Reeve took offense at this. "Because when you're impoverished and dying of malnutrition, you should at least have some soda with fizz to drink," he answered with bitter derision. "Yeah, that's what I'll do with my inventions. Solve all the insignificant problems of the slums with gadgets, huh? Yeah, that'll really change the world."

Cloud took his eyes off of the crowd for a moment to give Reeve a confused look. "Hey, I wasn't trying to insult you or anything. I was just joking, I wasn't talking about changing the world or anything like that."

The dimming and blinking of the lights onstage were enough to reveal the slightly reddish, conspicuously embarrassed hue suddenly growing on Reeve's face. He shook his head uncomfortably. "Ah…nevermind. Forget I said anything." He took a sip of his stale soda.

Soon Cloud was once again engrossed in his search for Tifa. He was scanning the floor crowd, sort of bobbing his head to the music as he did so. He really wasn't into rock or anything, but when your ears were being flooded by a torrent of bouncy guitar rhythms, then you were kind of inclined to rock out just a little.

As chaotic as the atmosphere was, it didn't really amuse Cloud. Save for the fact that he was searching feverishly for Tifa, he was pretty bored. He could tell that Reeve was too. They weren't having any fun whatsoever, even when they were down in the mosh pit getting assaulted by everyone else. Well, that was annoying more than anything, but still. You'd think that engaging in an almost ritualistic act of jumping and banging into people would have some enjoyment value. Disappointed, Cloud yawned. And Reno had always said that these concerts were fun as hell.

"Rock and fuckin roll, bastards!!"

Oh god. Reno.

He stumbled into the Elwood Park with all his usual airs, exaggerated by the fact that he was drunk out of his mind. In tow were his buddies, Elena, Pete, and Biggs, all almost as smashed as Reno was. Elena seemed to be the most sober of the four, which didn't surprise Cloud; she usually exercised far more self-control than her boisterous cronies did.

Truthfully, Reno's friends were part of the audience more often than they were of the show. Reno was his own riot. He caused enough havoc without the assistance of his friends who, after realizing this themselves, usually stood aside superfluously, cheering him on and occasionally vandalizing buildings and vendors stands. Presently Reno was busy storming his way through the crowd to the pit area, readily shoving teenagers in every direction out of his way as if clearing a path through an overgrown jungle.

Cloud shook his head at the sight, sighing heavily. Reno was going to get arrested. Sure, after he started that anarchic little riot he was obviously trying to start, someone would get hurt, and sooner or later, security would step in. Reno would be too drunk to know to get the hell out of there, and so would his friends. So who was going to have to save the day?

Cloud, of course. Poor, sober Cloud. He had to be the one with a brain. He sighed again, watching his brother screaming along to the music down there like a maniac. What was the occasion for the heavy intoxication tonight, he wondered?

"Well, your brother's gotten drunk before without getting caught by the police, right?" Reeve said, after Cloud had told him his prediction for the night. "Elena or one of Reno's other friends have got to have some wits left to get out of here safely, right?"

This seemed possible. Cloud never did know how Reno was always able to get home late at night, his breath reeking of inebriation, without getting arrested. But then again, Cloud never remembered Reno being this drunk before.

"Don't worry about it so much, Cloud. Your brother most likely knows what he's doing."

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Four minutes and thirty seven seconds later, the mosh area had turned into everything short of hell on earth.

Reno couldn't even wait five whole minutes before inciting chaos. It was a drunken punch-up of mud slinging, hair pulling, every-man-for-himself mayhem. Bottles and trash flying around this way and that like a mad swarm of bees. Every instrument onstage broken, kicked-in, or ceremoniously set on fire, Hendrix style. Band members maniacally stage diving and disappearing into the storming seas of deranged people below.

Cloud and Reeve had slid off of the bus by now, ducking behind several porta-johns, out of the way of the crazed mob. At the moment they were camped out under an equipment truck, mere yards away from the stage. This didn't keep them away from danger, though; every now and then some sort of bottle or projectile would come flying in their general direction. Cloud scowled every time he had to duck his head back under the truck. He was thoroughly pissed by the whole situation. "Reeve, never speak of my brother being a person who knows what he's doing ever again."

"Done," he agreed, recoiling behind a tire as a stoned young couple staggered by, stopping by a garbage can to suck face. "But now what are we supposed to do?" He whispered.

"Well, from what I see, we have three options." Cloud counted off his fingers. "One, we can stay under here till morning. But in all likelihood, we'll probably be dead by then. So two, we can get out, pick up a flaming instrument, and run out into battle screaming 'FREEDOM!' at the top of our lungs." He shrugged at seeing Reeve's furrowed brow. "If you can't beat em, join em. Anyway, three, we can sneak out of here, find my brother, and take him home."

Reeve waited for more. "…That's it?"

"Yeah. Why, you got any other ideas?"

"Actually, I was waiting for the option in which we got the hell out of here, got back home, and then went to the coroner's office in the morning to identify your brother's body."

Cloud snorted. "That'd be nice, I'll admit that. But you do know which option we're actually going to take, right?"

Reeve frowned. Looking defeated, popped his head out from under, glancing around. After a brief moment he ducked back in, shaking his head in disappointment. "Okay, okay, I guess we'll have to get the guy. I saw him over in the pit with Pete and Biggs, so I guess we'd better hightail it to the stage."

Rolling out from beneath the truck, the boys hurried over to the stage, Reeve fretfully seizing a board lying on the ground and clutching it close, weary of running into more moshers. But by this time the chaos had gotten too out of hand for security to handle, and the cops had barely arrived on the scene. So most of the rioters over by the pit had started to disperse, frantically sprinting off to the exits.

But Reno had to be the dumbass. When Cloud and Reeve got to him, he was busy smashing the life out of an amp with a microphone stand, Pete and Biggs looking on with dazed interest.

"Reno!" Cloud yelled, hurrying over. "Reno, you've gotta get out of here, the cops just got here!"

"Fuc-king-mog-house!" Reno screamed in between whacks of the suffering bass amp. "You-and-your-fucking-nuts!"

"Dude, it's just a game," Pete said, mellowed by the alcohol.

"Yeah," Biggs added, taking a bottle over to Pete, "the mog just wants to fly, man. He believes he can fly. He just wants to spread his wings and fly away. Sos you really got to just chill, man."

Reno stopped for a moment, out of breath and slurring his speech. "That ain't….that ain't the point, ya know? It's because of-of pimps like that mog that the mog population has freaking skyrocketed. It's-it's wrong, man, just wrong…" And he hiccuped some.

The boys stood there onstage, just not believing any of this. "You nimrods," Cloud hissed, "you're going to get arrested, doesn't that matter to you at all?!"

Reno looked over at Cloud, seemingly having noticed him for the first time. "Hey, Cloud. Whas goin' on?"

If the bombardment of blanks ringing out into the crowd didn't reach Cloud's ears at that moment, he swore to god that he would have throttled Reno. Instead the five teens looked over to the vendors area, where dozens of cops were swarming into Elwood Park.

"Ey," Reno said, leaning on the mic stand to keep his balance, "Whozzat?"

"Uhhh, think it's police," Biggs observed, calmly oblivious.

"Ohh. I guess we better leave before they find out I killed this mog, huh?"

Pete and Biggs nodded in agreement, following Reno as he staggered around the stage. Cloud and Reeve exchanged dumbfounded looks. Dumbfounded they shrugged, then followed suit and went off after the teens.

Not far behind the stage was a chain link fence, which all of them (except Reeve) didn't have much trouble scaling. After Reeve had cussed out Reno for having yanked him by the collar over the fence to a nearly concussion-inducing fall, the group now found themselves standing right in front of the heart of the sector 3 concrete jungle: the mako reactor.

"You know," Reno was saying, "I think we shoulda buried that mog, you know? To like, hide the evidence?"

"Nah man, it's cool," Pete said. "It's like, dark, so they'll never see the body."

"Oh yeah."

The two freshmen watched the intoxicated upperclassmen worriedly. And to think, these idiots would be graduating in June.

They decided to ignore the older boys' antics. "So if we're at the reactor," said Cloud, glancing over at the looming structure before him, "we should only be about two or three minutes away from the train station, right?"

"I think so," Reeve agreed. "It's only 10:25, so we should be able to make the 10:32 train to sector 6 and get home by-"

It was right about then that Reno had rudely chosen to vomit, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. And he was only about three feet from Reeve, who jumped back away from the spew. That disgusted look the latter had displayed on his face throughout much of his time at the concert returned, but to a greater degree. All the while Biggs and Pete were laughing stupidly.

Cloud rolled his eyes, grabbing the hunched over Reno by the shoulder. "Ha ha, that was hilarious," he said sardonically. "Are you done, Reno? We've got to go."

A snort from Biggs interrupted Cloud. "Dude, are you serious? He's totally plastered; he hasn't had a chance to stop spinning yet. You take him on that train he'll be blowing chunks all over the place."

Reeve recoiled once again at the thought. Cloud, on the other hand, figured that he'd risk it. But upon second thought, he realized that he shouldn't. It was only 10:30. People were still riding on the trains, and not only would Reno's vomiting call attention to them, it would get them kicked off the train. He sighed. "How long should we wait, then?"

Biggs thought for a minute. Literally, a minute. Cloud then remembered that Reno wasn't the only one who was drunk. "Bout ten minutes should do it," he finally answered.

"Ten minutes?!" Reeve interrupted. "The train leaves in five and doesn't get back for thirty! I can't get home that late, my dad will murder me!"

Cloud didn't hesitate. "Then just go on the train Reeve, no one's stopping you."

But Reeve did hesitate, suddenly torn between loyalty and certain doom. He looked over at Cloud standing over his still puking brother. "Are-are you…okay with this?"

"Sure. I need to make sure this lug gets home anyway. But take Pete along with you, so you won't have to ride alone. And watch out for bums and pickpockets while you're riding."

Reeve looked over at Pete, who grinned at him, apparently unaware of what Cloud had said. Reeve shook his head. "Fine then. You're absolutely sure?"

"Reeve…"

"Okay, okay, I'm off. Come on, Petey."

"Huh?"

"Just come on." They departed for the train station, leaving Cloud with only Reno and Biggs to baby-sit now. And as it turned out, Reno didn't need ten minutes to recover. He was up and swaggering around again in ten seconds. Cloud rolled his eyes.

"So are you done now?"

"Uhh, just about," Reno answered, sitting on a bench next to Biggs. But then he abruptly put his hand to his mouth again, and, holding his other hand up, he tilted his head to the side and threw up one last time. He sat back up again. "Yep. Now I'm done." Biggs doubled over in hysterics, laughing.

"You are so weird," said Cloud. "Well, you wanna go home now? We can still catch up to Reeve and Pete if we run."

Reno shook his head, his hand traveling over to his pant pocket. "Cloud, my boy, you've got to settle down. Let me and Biggs here just rest a minute, okay? My throat is burning and I'm fucking tired."

"That train is going to leave in three minutes!"

"So we'll catch the next one. Just take it easy for a minute, kid, alright?" Reno's hand fished around in his pocked for a moment, finally pulling out some cigarettes. He offered one to Biggs.

"So you're just going to sit here and smoke."

He shrugged. "Nothing else to do."

So it was silent for a while, save for the sound of Reno's lighter clicking on and off in the lamplight. Then Biggs abruptly chose to break the stillness. "Hey! Reno, we could play that one game Elena taught us! But what was it called? What was that…"

It was then that Cloud realized who was missing. "Hey Reno, where'd Elena go?"

Reno shrugged. "She's off a blowin' in the wind. She probably ditched us at the concert and-"

An alarm broke out into the night, interrupting Reno and scaring the hell out of Biggs, who fell off of the bench. The ringing seemed to be coming from the reactor, where several security guards had started sprinting down the outside walkways high above.

"It's some kind of security breach," Cloud said, his eyes focused on the reactor. "Guards running around all over the place, lights turning on…there must be an intruder or something."

His words fell on deaf ears: Reno was once again laughing at Biggs sitting on the ground. Cloud was not enjoying being ignored. "Are you two listening? The cops are gonna be down here any minute! This time we have really got to go!"

Reno laughing diminished as Cloud stood by him now, pulling him to his feet.

"Do you want to get caught?" Cloud asked. "We have to leave, now!"

"Look," Reno started, "I'll leave whenever the fuck I want to, and nobody's gonna stand in my way, not even my own…"

He trailed off, because the sound of fast approaching footsteps distracted him. With apprehensive eyes the teens all glanced down the dark street, the sound's source, where a running man emerged, stopping at the edge of the lamplight. Clothes all disheveled, cold sweat staining his shirt; the three instantly knew who he was. Having realized that Cloud, Biggs and Reno weren't cops, the man cautiously approached.

He saw the panic in their eyes. The man glimpsed behind him briefly, the looked back at the teens. "It's okay," he said, "I ain't a cop, I'm not gonna do anything to you."

His figure was more distinct in the light now: dark brown hair, calm yet worn out green eyes, a brawny build. He looked to be in his mid-20s, but he was a few inches shorter than Reno. In his hand he held something, a satchel of some sort.

"What's in the bag?" Reno asked abruptly. Cloud glanced at him, attempting to warn him with a look. But Reno wouldn't acknowledge it.

"I don't think that's your business, kid," the man said, meeting Reno's eye.

"Yeah? Well I fucking live here, don't I? Don't I have a fucking right to know when another one of you fucking terrorists is sneaking around my slums?"

Oh my God, Cloud thought, literally scared stiff. Reno was insane. Drunk and insane and staring down a member of Avalanche, the slums' most notorious terrorist group.

The man smirked slightly. "So you've realized who I am."

"Damn right I have, you tree hugging piece of shit. You're a wanted man."

"That may be so, but I hope you realize that I have no intention of hurting you."

"Well I do." Something fell out of Reno's sleeve into his hand, a switchblade. He flipped it open, audaciously holding up his other hand and beckoning him. "Come on, motha fucka." Reno said with brazen mockery, taking off his coat and discarding it. "Bring it on."

"Reno!" Biggs started, suddenly more scared than drunkenly mellow. "Dude, don't-"

"Fuck off, I can handle this turd. Come on, bitch, let's go."

The man stood there watching Reno. "I'm not going to fight you. You look like you're drunk. Just sit down, kid, relax."

Reno tossed the switchblade from one hand to another, impatience starting to boil his blood. "What fucking difference does it make if I'm drunk or not? Get the hell over here, bastard!"

Cloud had to tell him to stop, had to tell him that he was out of his mind and that he had to-to…to chill out or calm down or something. But his throat choked up. He couldn't move. All he could do was watch and pray for sanity to take over.

The man once again refused. "No. I'm not fighting you. Good bye." And then he made the biggest mistake of his life. He attempted to sidestep past Reno, ignoring him, but like a bolt Reno swung at him, slashing his arm about half an inch deep. The man stepped back, aghast, but Reno came at him again. He was ready though, ducking below and tripping the teen easily. Floored, Reno made several swipes at his opponent, grazing his leg once or twice. Reno jumped up and the man moved back, seizing an empty whiskey bottle off of the ground and smashing the butt on a nearby wall, providing himself with his own weapon.

This was when Cloud finally made a move toward Reno, but Biggs held him back, terrified enough of his own friend to prohibit Reno's little brother from making an attempt to stop him. Cloud watched helplessly as the man now thrust the jagged bottle at Reno's abdomen. Reno bent forward, his lean stomach narrowly missing the weapon's swipes, and struck back at it. The bottle hit Reno's hand, smacking his switchblade right out of his hand. The man saw Reno, now defenseless, and threw the bottle off to the side.

But Reno was still livid, coming at the man with a ready fist. The man caught it, elbowing Reno in the face and kicking him away. Once again Reno charged at him as a bull, fists once again meeting blocking arms and better prepped punches.

Gunfire shot off in the distance now; the man stopping to see while Reno grabbed an empty trash can and took a cheap shot at him. The man stumbled to the ground now, Reno about to kick him when Cloud ran up, pulling his brother back.

"Reno, stop it, now! You've beat him, now the cops are coming, come on!"

"Fuck off!" He yelled viciously. "Leave me, I need to finish this bastard!"

But Cloud hung on to his shoulder, trying with all his capacity to hold Reno back. It wasn't until a fist connected with Reno's chin that he was able to drag his brother's half-conscious form away from the scene and into an alley across the street behind some dumpsters. Biggs joined them, massaging his hand as he joined them.

"Shit, it's a dead end!" said Cloud, facing concrete brick. "Biggs, did you see any other-"

"Midgar PD, don't move," drawled a voice from the street. Leaving Reno by the wall, Biggs and Cloud hurried over to the dumpster, watching the scene from behind it. Several cops had found the Avalanche man lying on the ground, who stared back at them, dazed. One of them picked him up.

"Looks like somebody else got to our friendly neighborhood terrorist already, eh?"

"Looks like. Where'd your assailant go, mister?"

He was addressing the terrorist, who spat. "Go to hell."

The cop grinned, then shoved a baton into his stomach. "Haha, you're funny, you know that? Why are you protecting him, mister? He just beat your ass! Besides, the citizens hate you all, so why the hell do you even bother?"

Crimson spit dripped from the man's mouth. "I wouldn't tell you, of all people."

The cop struck him again, this time in the face. "Fucking bastard. Where're those files you stole?" He didn't answer. The cop dropped him to the ground, kicking his side. "Piece of shit, answer me!"

The man managed to smile, sort of smugly, despite his pain. "Burned them."

The cop didn't bother to call him anything. He just started kicking again. And to make it worse, his fellow officers joined in. Kick. Kick. Kick. The assailants ignored the cries of agony coming from their victim. But Cloud could never ignore those cries. He started to feel sick, at the same time still apprehensive of being found. Somehow Cloud couldn't look away; he watched them dish out the torture, silently pleading after every kick for them to stop, because just watching every moment was excruciating. After an eternity they stopped, Cloud certain that the man was dead. But the cops stepped away from the body, which was still breathing shallowly and painfully.

"So," the cop started, pulling out his gun, "where are the files?"

The man couldn't even answer. Cloud could see the man exhausting every last bit of energy he could find just to continue living through this, just to continue breathing and pumping blood through his beaten body.

The cop fired at the man's knee. An excruciating scream.

"Files, now!"

No answer. Another knee shot. Another death wish scream.

The cop cocked his gun one last time, pointing it right at the man's head.

"This is your final chance." He told him. "Where are the files."

Through all his anguish and suffering, the man found something. One last bit of life energy, not for his lungs or his blood, but for his will. His eyes stared at the cop with one final gaze of resolve, unblinking as his assailant pulled the trigger.

The Avalanche man went limp, his body finally free of pain. The cop shook his head, solely out of disappointment, however. His partners came up to him, told him they found no files anywhere on the man's person. The man swore. He told them, "call central command and tell em we've got a gang homicide here." And then he and his partners left. Just like that. The coroner would be coming to pick up the body, but until then, it just lay there in the street, rotting away, waiting for some dog to start biting at it. Because that's exactly what the cops wanted. They wanted it to decay and deteriorate and get ripped apart in the streets, not be dignified with a funeral. It was fitting for what they considered the scum of the scum.

Cloud turned away, but found his brother right behind his shoulder, a solemn expression on his face as he stared at the body mere yards away. Biggs was behind Reno, leaning against the wall, looking sickened.

Cloud tried to say something. "Reno, I-" But Reno held up his finger, silencing him. Reno stood up and made his way out from behind the dumpster, approaching the body. Cloud squeezed out as well, following Reno across the street. He saw that in Reno's hand was the coat he had thrown aside earlier. Somber, he spread it over the man, gently closing his still open eyelids, closing them on the man's determined eyes. He reached into the man's pocket and pulled out a wallet, opening it.

"Richard Jay Finch," he read. He took out the gil and, out of his own pocket, pulled out Richard's bag, which he had apparently swiped earlier. Placing the gil in the bag, he said something to Richard, something Cloud couldn't hear.

Sirens rang out in the distance. Reno stood up with the bag, took one last look at the man, and walked toward Cloud. "We're going home."

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There was something about flames waltzing about in the middle of the night that comforted Reno.

An hour later Cloud and Reno were back in sector 6, a few blocks away from the house and watching an old ramshackle cottage burn to the ground. It had been abandoned for years, so Reno saw no harm in burning it. Neither did Cloud. He did nothing to stop him.

And so Reno sat on a wall hugging his knees and smoking, the reflection of the flames dancing in his eyes. The structure started to collapse into itself, smoke growing out of smoldering wood and drifting out into the atmosphere until it disappeared before even reaching the plate. Cloud had no idea what was going through his brother's head. Reno hadn't said a word since they left sector 3, and didn't even bother saying bye to Biggs.

"Fuck!" Reno suddenly yelled, getting to his feet and throwing his cigarette to the pavement. Cloud stared at him, silent. Reno stared back, despondency in his eyes. "I'm doing it again, goddamn it!"

"…Doing what?" Cloud asked, worried.

"Destruction, Cloud, destruction." He sighed heavily, staring at the sky. "It's all I ever do. And fucking shit, I'm doing it again!" He was screaming at the stars. "…I've got no purpose, no reason. All I do is fuck around, day after day, thinking that it's fine…"

Cloud had never seen his brother this way before. "Reno…are you alright?"

After a few moments Reno glanced at him once again, and this time his face appeared calmer in the orange glow. He laughed half-heartedly. "I'm about as alright as a drunkenly sober man ever can be. A calm bomb, a sane madman, a pious devil…I'm all those things right now and much more." He turned back to watch the blazing house. "Go on back home, Cloud, get some sleep." After noticing that Cloud didn't move, he chuckled. "Don't worry, you can trust me. You didn't all night and I thank you for that, but now, you can. Go to bed, Cloud."

So reluctantly, Cloud left Reno to his own devices. Left him to his burning house and his thoughts.

And for once in his life, Cloud was genuinely worried about the maniac who lived with him.