Chapter Four
A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers! I'm sooo sorry it took so long to update, but let's just say this last two weeks have been ones I never wish to relive ever again.
I don't own any of the following characters/places etc.
- - -
A fraction of a second later, Reno realized the movement had been a terrible mistake. A creak shot out from the floorboard and reverberated around the wide open room, and he shrank back, as if that would help.
Damned leg cramps.
Every ear on the level pricked up immediately, and he tightened his fingers around his EMR. Peering down cautiously, he saw two particularly thickset men stand and step away from the cluster, scanning the dim walls.
Watching the others scurry about like ants from a stirred-up nest, he smirked a little, breath slowing slightly. As long as Tseng was almost done, he could probably safely bale without being noticed again. The fools seemingly had no mode of tracking, as one of the idiots was even inching towards the far wall, tapping at the floorboards with a booted foot.
"Hold up, Ridge," stilled a new voice, amused. "Are you coming out, Red?"
Reno froze. The hell? The voice wasn't through.
"He's in the rafters," it supplied. "Camera's just picked up on him. Clever little shit."
Without warning, the wooden rafts by his feet exploded upwards into bullet-torn splints, and he yelped, jumping back.
"Idiot," he hissed at himself, furious. Darting back he ran nimbly along the beam he had chosen as his perch. He reached up blindly to pull down his microphone, only to nearly run into a new volley of bullets; leaping back with a loud curse.
"Reno?"
Growling he braced himself and leapt from his plank to the relatively sheltered side of the roof, staring angrily down through the cracks in the floorboards.
Surrounded.
"Shit." He shook himself, fingering his gun, and remembered Tseng was still in his ear. "Boss, we got a problem."
"Expand."
"The- damn it! The bastards know I'm here. They're fuc- ow!"
He broke off into a yelp of pain as a bullet, burning and fierce, slashed through the skin of his shoulder, lodging in the wall behind him. Fuck. Not sheltered enough. He thought he heard Rude's voice, but pushed those voices away temporarily, scrambling for his life as the gang below started shooting haphazardly at the rafter he stood upon.
"Sorry boss. Something grazed me, s'all. I- fuck off, dipshit! Get the shit out already, Tseng. It's kinda hectic up here."
"On our way Reno. Get yourself out, keep us updated."
Reno shook the microphone away, staring around with desperate, scanning eyes. Window, window.
Screw it, he could move faster on the ground. He spared a brief, inward frown for his bright, attention drawing hair, before taking a running leap, managing to catch a hold of the service ladder, and sliding smoothly to the floor, almost wishing he'd caught the spectacle on camera. The bullets were still trailing after as he burst into a run, but he had a good hundred yards of empty space between himself and the gang.
Tseng's voice was in his head again, but he didn't have time for it. He spotted the big main staircase and veered in that direction. His damn earpiece was crackling and sparking; one of the stray bullets had no doubt side-swiped it and cut into the wire. Another roared past his ear, close enough to ruffle his hair, and he winced, wondering when the gang were going to start relying upon their fists like they were supposed to.
The lighting above his head exploded suddenly, sending small shards of glass to fall relatively harmlessly upon his suit. The floor however was thrown violently into darkness.
"Reno?"
"Yeah Tseng," he barked, fumbling for a lighter as he ran. "I fucking can't see anything. Where are you boss? Boss?"
"Losing you, Reno. Where are you?"
He frowned. The damn bullet was shorting out their channel.
"Going down. Level four, I saw a window. Where are you?"
"Level one Reno. You're on four?"
"Yeah. In the main staircase. I was- fuck!" He ducked behind a somewhat superfluous table as a cap tore through his calf, stumbling briefly but throwing himself back to his feet. Gods this was ridiculous. "Shit… Get out, you two. Gods, oww. Rude?"
"Here Reno. Help us partner, what do we do?"
He knew Rude would laugh at him if he knew, but just hearing the big man's voice sent a rush of fresh fear flooding through him. Not just for him; all he wanted was to see his lover again, but he worried about how Rude would cope, should the inevitable happen.
"It's fucked up now, Rude. I'm gonna try break out through the glass. I-"
A fresh volley of bullets rolled around him, buffeting his jacket fiercely. He groaned; he hated that he was more or less fleeing for his damned life, and against a gang of mindless, blood thirsty nobodies. He'd always imagined his death as something somewhat more… glamorous?
No, dangerous, or perhaps just 'spectacular'. They were closer.
He swore loudly as the headset was blown clear off his face, severing his last tie with Rude. That was that.
His eyes widened as he suddenly felt a cord tangle in his legs, and pull tight; cutting into the flesh of his left thigh and snapping taut. The snap of bone and muscle was audible, and he fell in an undignified heap, taken off guard by the flood of pain emanating through his body. He'd broken bones before, but fuck.
Even as he scrambled to sit up and untangle himself the gang were upon him, knocking him back to the floor with the butt of a rifle to his brow, and a flying foot connecting with his chest.
"Bugger. Off," he ground out, scrabbling for his EMR, but he'd exhausted his run of luck for the evening. A pair of hands latched on to his collar and jerked upwards, cutting off his air with a strangled wheeze.
Blinding pain darted through his head suddenly, and he swooned; eyes rolling back and collapsing bonelessly to the floor, and even as everything went black, he hated himself for it.
- - -
"Rude, quit pacing and give my eyes a rest, huh?"
He glanced up, startled out of his gloomy reverie. Elena was glaring half heartedly at him, chin resting in her hand. He nodded and dragged his feet back over to the chair at her side, sinking down.
"You should go get some sleep, El," he insisted again, partially glad for the distraction of conversation. He knew Elena had been busy on a private mission for Rufus for the last three days, and probably hadn't gotten much rest. They were all trained to go lengths without sleep, but it didn't do much for moral. Or patience. She just smirked at him.
"And leave you here to wear a track in the tiles? Nah. 'sides, I wanna find out if the runt broke my record yet."
He smirked back at that, amused. The two smallest Turks had kept up a running tally of injuries and scars ever since their first time working together. Rude suspected it had originated out of counting and comparing marks to pass the time on a steak out long passed and dimming in memory. Despite Reno's uncanny ability to injure himself on both dangerous missions and inane household cleaning treks, Elena had somehow always beaten him in their cataloguing. She'd never explained the sources of many of the marks, and they both guessed they had something to do with her past, and respectfully stayed out of it.
Reno had always just contented himself with the idea that his injuries accounted for more as they were generally graver and less attractive. Rude sighed. Whilst his partner seemed to enjoy the chance to add new scars to his list, Rude never understood the fun of it all.
"Don't worry big guy," said Elena, as if sensing his thoughts. "He'll be fine. That Jettison knows his shit. We all know that."
"Yeah. He did wonders with you. You look almost human now."
"Yeah yeah. Laugh it up. I happen to have a few incriminating stories about you up my sleeve, care of your boozing, card-losing man back there."
Oh Gods, the little bastard had been spilling his guts to Elena. He knew there had been something off about his smile last month, coming back from a drinking night with the blonde.
As soon as he was better, Rude was going to kill him.
He was saved from having to respond to that, however, as Tseng reappeared in the lounge area, shuffling through a pile of paperwork in his hands. Rude jumped to his feet, waiting anxiously.
Maybe he'd be gentle when he killed him.
Tseng looked up and abandoned the paperwork for the moment, coming to a halt before them.
"Time to hand over the torch, Elena," he noted, smiling faintly. She grinned weakly.
"Tseng," prompted Rude, patiently as possible.
"He's going to be fine, Rude. You can see him in a few minutes, he's just being settled in a room. Bullet retrieval went well, and he's got a few handfuls of stitches. They had to rebreak his leg to set it, but no other complications."
"What about his head," he asked cautiously. Head injuries were a bitch, and Reno had one hell of a bump – slash – gash back there. Tseng nodded.
"Concussion, but the swelling is going down. Apart from a killer headache, he'll probably make a full recovery, and they aren't worried about memory loss thus far."
Rude nodded, vague relief flooding through him. He wouldn't feel wholly at ease until the kid woke up and barked drink orders at him, but none the less, positive news helped.
"He's littered in minor injuries too, Rude," reminded Tseng softly, catching his eye again. "He'll be sore for a few weeks. Then again this comes at a good time; If you're going to be sitting around with nothing to do but watch lint form, you may as well do it from home with him, I suppose."
Rude and Elena grinned at that.
"Was that a joke boss," she asked, winking.
"I think it was more sarcasm than anything," he sighed in response, eyeing the lofty pile of paperwork under his arm as if it were a snake. "Or a lie in my case. I'll have plenty to keep me occupied."
"What did Rufus say?" asked Rude.
"Just congratulations on both missions, and sent his regards to Reno." Tseng turned, alerted by the new footsteps behind him. "There's Jettison, Rude; You're good to go. Elena, if you'd be so kind to join me?"
"Sure boss," she agreed, smiling at Rude and moving off at Tseng's side, giving the partners some time alone.
"Oh, boss," Rude said suddenly, turning. Tseng glanced up, questioning. "It's- Thanks."
"You've said that, Rude," the other man protested, shaking his head. "And I-"
"I mean it," he insisted, something close to a grateful smile tugging at his lips. "For everything." Tseng frowned at him but smirked, waving him on.
"Nothing of it. Now go see him, sentimental fool."
- - -
He was used to the beeping of hospital monitors by now, otherwise it might have drove him mad. It was like a second language to him, pathetic as that concept was. He was also used to the back-breaking visitor's chairs, and the mind dulling light green wall paint. Better than black, he supposed.
He didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing his life partner laid out in bandages, partially concealed by a thin hospital blanket.
His long hair had been cleaned, thankfully, and twisted around to fall across his injured shoulder, the odd strand falling across his pale, still face, mixing in with the red of his facial scars. It made him look oddly peaceful. Vulnerable.
The rest of him still looked like shit.
He was still maddeningly curious as to what had actually happened. Angry and vengeful too, but they were knee-jerk, irrelevant emotions he supposed. Even still, it was obvious the gang had had fun with their catch. The blow to the head would have been sufficient, but even Rude, with his preliminary knowledge of interpreting injuries, could tell that many of the bruises and slices had been received post - loss - of - consciousness.
He sighed, drumming his fingers along the side of the coffee-filled paper cup in his grasp. They called it coffee, anyway. He wondered tiredly if he could sue the vending company for false advertising. The goopy liquid seemed more gray than the rich brown of the freshly ground stuff he was used to.
Elena had once referred to him as 'the frowning guy, unless Reno's there'. He'd predictably frowned as everyone else in earshot had snorted into their paperwork, in unanimous agreement. Elena had patted his arm and flashed a winning smile, assuring that she wouldn't have him any other way, and it was merely an observation.
It was true, of course. That much was obvious, or he would have strangled the kid years ago.
She'd also gone and told Reno as much, admittedly after he had made a (looking back) less than charming remark about her tendency to follow Tseng around like a lovesick puppy.
They had both been right though. Hell hath no fury and all…
"I love you kiddo," he admitted, muttering. "Gods help me."
- - -
TBC, please R&R