RaspberryPolarBear - Eek. My computer is trying to kill itself, I guess. Sorry about that. Yes, geostigma will be playing a big role in their lives, as it probably played in everyone's life at this time. Minus maybe Reno. Maybe. Maybe not. We shall see. Don't worry there won't be deaths.

Darkus - aww, thanks! I try my hardest. I had to think a lot about Arien's character, because I didn't like the stereotypes. And Reno's character as well... that was probably the hardest part. It was very hard for me to make a female without it being a Sue.

Princess-Starr - hehe, I'll continue this story just for you... and few other people who read this (AKA RaspberryPolarBear and Rah, I think). I do want to finish this story at least, because I have the storyline plotted out.


Chapter V: Out of Hand

"This is getting out of hand," Elena said.

"No shit," the redhead replied. "This… disease is getting everywhere."

The three stared at the corpse vacantly. The black pus was oozing, and it looked horridly dark and sticky, reflecting the vague light from above in a sickly sheen. "I wonder if it's contagious." The blonde woman said absently.

The two shrugged. "Beats me, I ain't no doctor," Reno said. "But I wouldn't risk sleeping with that guy. Who knows, it might be."

The three resumed staring. In each Turk's mind, the same question raced: was it contagious? Were they already afflicted with it? Was there any cure? Was being with Rufus putting them to a risk?

None of them wanted to die. It was rather hypocritical, Arien mused grimly. They took lives readily, without question, without any remorse, but they definitely did not want to die. That much was certain.

How many of those she killed had felt the same way?

Stop with this guilt trip, her conscience ordered stiffly. No point trying to guilt over what's done. You can't cry over spilled mako.

She shook her head as she holstered the gunblade. Reno was trying to get her attention, but for some reason, her mind wandered, refusing to come back. She was having difficulty focusing; the heavy cat called guilt was still refusing to budge from its warm, cozy nook.

"Earth to Arie. Attention here, yo." Reno's voice exploded in her left ear. "We're getting out of here. You might wanna catch this disease, but I sure as hell don't."

Arien had seen the effects of this unknown malady. Rufus had spasms of it occasionally, and he uncharacteristically thrashed and screamed in pain that seemed almost too intense to be real. She had sat through many of them, all of them ending with Rufus losing his consciousness. That was not the way she wanted to lead her life. The blackness of the disease, its apparent pains, its ugliness all caused a sour taste in her mouth, a clenching in her throat, her hands to sweat and her legs to go weak. She had never been seriously ill before; she fervently hoped that this would not be her first encounter with a "serious illness". A disease that looked ugly, was painful, and had no cure yet? No thanks.

"Hey! Arien!" Reno was calling. "Let's go!"

"I'm coming," she found herself saying. She silently bid farewell to the dead, turned on her heels, and left, following her mates.


Reno was worried, for the first time in his life. Well, not exactly. He had been worried before, but it was all for his own sake. He worried about girls turning up at his door, announcing pregnancies caused by him. He worried over his life. He worried over his money. He even worried over what to eat – sometimes.

But worrying over someone else? Never.

Ever since returning from Wutai, the young assassin seemed to be out of it. Her mind seemed to be drifting away, unhindered, and no matter what he did, she refused to come back. Dealing with an unknown man's death was one thing, but dealing with a family death was quite another. And in this case, it was her sister. Her twin. Her counterpart, inseparable no matter how much strife there was between them.

Arien was having a guilt trip, he knew that well enough. He hadn't lived with her for over a year and half and counting, without learning a few things about this mysterious enigma that was named Arien DeVir. But he couldn't help her there. He never had a guilt trip in his life. He never saw any wrong in carrying out his missions. He was just doing what he was ordered to do, nothing more. It earned him bread for the day. He never saw any wrong when he was in a gang in Midgar Slums, or did it cause him any guilt now. Besides, Luca was still alive and kicking. To feel a part of you wither and die while you were still flourishing was quite beyond him.

Still, he was worried. Inattentiveness could prove to be fatal with their career. And she was really spacing out, no doubt there. Guilt trips were fine and dandy, but he had made no plans for a funeral anytime soon. No way. Not after he had spent so much time, patience (which he lacked more severely than others), and energy, not to mention money. Nuh uh.

Pulling out a pack of cigarettes (he was getting as bad as Cid Highwind these days), he flicked the cheap lighter and lit the cigarette. The leaves burned, leaving a slight odor, and the nicotine he craved came through his mouth, sending him into a sense of a slight euphoria. Elena coughed and waved the smoke away with her manicured hand; Arien would have done the same, or she would have tried to stop him from taking another drag of it, but she did nothing. She just walked. Limply, like a marionette. Her hands jammed into the pockets of her slacks insolently (something that she never did, saying that it ruined the lines of the stitches), almost in the same manner as he did, her trench coat open and swishing, he suddenly realized that maybe they weren't so different after all.

But then, maybe they were.


The car ride back was silent as it could be. Nobody talked, not even Elena, who was usually a chatterbox. The redhead asked Tseng if the two could be dropped off at their house; seeing Arien's mute depression and Reno's "if you say no, you won't be saying another word" stance, Tseng agreed. Believe it or not, even the Turk leader held Reno in a grudging respect. He was usually obedient when it came to the basis, and he was usually in complete control, but Tseng had seen Reno lose it. And it was not a pleasant sight.

In her inattentiveness, Reno had to remind her that they were in front of their house. She jerked, almost like she was awakened from a dream, then shook her head a few times. "Oh, um…" she muttered under her breath. "Thanks."

By Shiva, she really was out of it. He watched as she mechanically stepped out of the car, then promptly stumble. This was not like her at all. She was usually attentive, lithe, even with a casual grace at times. Maybe this Reniel disaster wasn't the reason. Maybe there was something else.

Well, he could think of one. And according to his mental "Book of Weird Behaviors on Species with XX Chromosomes", this seemed to have a high possibility. Actually, almost 100 percent. Throw in the factor that they weren't exactly prudish either. Well, at least he wasn't.

He waited until he opened the door, allowed Arien to step inside the house, throw her jacket off, toss the keys, and throw herself onto the sofa with much abandon. Then, he sat down next to her and said, "Arie, I gotta ask a question."

"…Yes?" She replied blandly, wiggling to get the holster off. All of a sudden she seemed to be dedicating all her attention to getting out of the leather straps. She pulled off the leather band around her shoulder, then the other, then finally tossed the gunblade and the holster on the floor. Then she sunk down, head resting on the back of the sofa, legs crossed and arms spread, eyes closed.

"Are you pregnant, yo? Because if that's the case, I'm not gonna force ya to abort it or anythi…"

"What?" She was attentive now. She sat up, her eyes wide open. "What did you just say?"

"Are you pregnant?"

"Not that I know of." She thought for a moment. "Nope. Don't think so."

"Huh." He was a little disappointed… he was mostly dreading and a little expecting a little clone of himself running around in a few years. (You see, Reno is not a simple being after all.) Never did he know that the very prospect of little Renaldo running around was scaring Arien out of her wits. One Reno was causing enough chaos. Two was just… inconsiderable.

"Why were you spaced out, then?"

"I don't know." A shrug. "It's just that… a lot of things are coming back to me all of a sudden, now that we're back to our normal routine."

"Huh," he said dumbly. "You okay, though?"

"I should be fine," she replied. "Just… give me some time. Okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

Arien stood up, and walked to the kitchen. "So. What do you want for dinner?" she asked.


There wasn't much else to do, after the clean-up. The Turks spent their days lazily, doing nothing productive. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months; it was repose after a long battle, and they felt they deserved it.

Rufus gave them leave; having the rowdy group around was not a very smart idea for a person who was trying to rest. Elena had a soprano, Reno was just plain loud, and Arien tended to have fights with the redhead. And so, Rufus ordered the three of them – Rude and Tseng were quiet, they could stay – to Costa del Sol. It was close enough, but far away.

They idly stayed in the Shinra villa, still kept by the Shinra Company after the chaos that ensued in Midgar. The sun was still shining in the seaside town, unlike Healin or The Edge, which some deity seemed to have decided to withdraw the sunlight for some unknown punishment.

Reno and Elena were out that day together, doing god knew what. Arien was bored; falling out of the bed, she crawled up, rubbed her sleepy eyes. Strands of black hair were stuck to her sweaty skin, and for a moment she wondered why she was sweating so much. Then she remembered that despite her fears, Reno was encouraging procreation the night before. Which she fended off with a pillow, which ended up in a pillow fight and angry shouts.

Scowling, she picked up beige Capri's and stepped into them. Cell phone slid into the left hand pocket – she was a right-handed person, and she could not defend herself with the left hand. She could make calls with her left. A leather belt needed another hole – with all the heat she was dramatically losing appetite. Pulling on a turquoise shirt, she brushed her hair and tied it in a ponytail, removing strands out of her face and into the elastic. Sunscreen was amply smeared on the exposed skin; she slid her pedicured feet into matching heeled sandals, then slid a pistol between her belt and the cloth of the Capri's. Tying around a jacket around her waist, she concealed her weapon, then stepped out after adjusting a pair of sunglasses on her nose.

The brilliant sun hit her mako-enhanced eyes, and she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sun. The sunglasses helped, but not much, and for a moment she could not see anything. Deciding which way to go, she turned her body to the left and started to walk.

Girls in bikinis were running around, giggling and laughing. She smiled vaguely, remembering that she could have been one of those girls. Instead, one would have seen a woman with a serious face and way too much guilt in her eyes. Her espadrille heels were soft on the sandy paved avenues, making grating sounds as the plastic of the heels grinded the sand into finer white powder. Despite the winter, the harsh weather, and the Meteor fall, Costa del Sol was still the sunny coast that she knew.

She turned right, and saw the familiar redhead and the blonde head coming towards her. Upon further inspection, they seemed to be very cozy with each other, laughing together and being disturbingly close to each other. Well, they knew each other before Arien knew them; but then, what was this sharp pain that went behind her eyes? She hated herself for being jealous, and she also hated herself for being angry at Reno. She knew that he would do as he pleased, regardless of his relationship status. But still! She turned and ducked into a shady alley, flattening herself to the wall.

Which turned out to be a ghastly mistake.

Another sharp pain lanced through her left wrist, but this one was real. She felt her skin puncture, a slow drop of blood fall onto the shaded ground. She looked down, removing her sunglasses, and some sort of a hook had gone through. She looked around, and saw a string tied to the hook traipse around the corner of the building. Hmm.

Then she felt a tug, and her thoughts exploded as her mind registered sharp pain. Biting her lower lip to prevent screaming – it was extremely painful – she pulled out her pistol and adjusted the silencer on, then shot at the string. The string was severed.

The pain was still there, but she knew she could not stay. Moving to the other side, she slowly began to move, then burst into a run. If a woman burst out with a hook in her wrist, then things would look suspicious, so she could not go back; besides her colleagues would be there. She thought for a moment about phoning her partner, then shook her head. Most likely Reno would have turned his phone off.

She ran around the corner of the building, away from the hook's origin, then around again. After making sure that there were no assailants around, she slid down the wall, sitting down. The pain was intensified by the run and the rush of adrenaline; blood flowed copiously, painting her hand bright crimson. She held her pistol for a moment, nozzle pointing to the sky, then lowered it and placed it in her lap. Time to remove the metal.

She touched the hook slightly, and even that sent pain shooting through her nerves. Biting her lip to prevent herself from screaming, she painstakingly dug into her own flesh with her fingers, pulling onto the hook. She was getting nauseous from the pain; she felt vomit creep up into her throat, threatening to come into her mouth. Her vision was being dotted with black spots, and she stopped for a second to clear her vision.

"Aaarrrgh," she breathed as the bloody hook came out. Her hand throbbed, and now both her hands were painted in red. Standing up, she returned her pistol to her belt after locking on safety, then wore her jacket, thankful for her foresight. She would have to clean the wound in the villa. Sticking her arm in the salt water – which was abundant in the beach – nearly made her pass out. It was already painful enough.

It was only after being in the sun, away from the shadows, and being in general safety that it dawned on her. Something crucial. Something terribly important. She wondered how she missed it in the first place, when she first felt the hook rip through her wrist.

There were enemies here. And they wanted the Turks out of the picture.


Reno was in the room, sitting on the bed and a phone by his sly face when Arien opened the door. When he saw her, he shut the phone, threw it onto the bed, then screamed, "Where the hell were you! I looked everywhere!"

Without a word, she opened the bathroom door, and had the sink running. The water was ice cold, thanks to Rufus' wealth, and she washed her hands under the cold water. Blood was encrusted in her nails, and she frowned as she thought that she would have to take out her nailbrush and brush the dark brown specs away. It would be a long, arduous task.

"Arien! Answer me, damn it!" Reno was still yelling. "For fuck's sake, stop being such a stubborn bitch! That's why you lose everyone!"

Ouch. Tears flooded her eyes, and she did not know whether it was because of Reno's harsh words or the pain in the wrist. She had gone through some severe injuries, but for some reason this one seemed to be ranking the top three in pain. Taking out some bandages from the first aid kit on the shelf above the sink, she stopped the water and turned off the light, then carried the box in one hand into the room. Reno was furious. His face was livid with anger, and his eyes were burning. Dressed in a white T-shirt and blue jeans, he looked dearer to her than anything else she had ever seen. Even her life. And then his words hit her again, like a harsh club.

That's why you lose everyone. Was she going to lose him as well? Or did that already happen?

She sat down in a chair and stared dumbly as the red in her sleeve spread slowly. Her vision blurred again and her hand shook as she rolled her sleeves to bandage her wound. The roll of white cloth tumbled out of her hand and painted a white line on the wooden floor. She did not know where she was, she was losing herself, and the pain in her left wrist was still there. Suddenly, without warning, voice escaped her mouth – a choked voice, filled with pain.

Reno was still yelling, and then he stopped. He saw the woman's face pale and bloodless, and an ugly gaping hole in the left wrist. Her lips had a bluish tinge, and the sleeve of the grey jacket was dyed scarlet. With blood. Her blood.

"Oh shit…" he caught her as she fell out of the chair. She felt lighter than before, and she had a gaunt, haunted look about her face as he carried her to the bed and lay her down. The hole still bled profusely, and he panicked for a second as he looked around for the bandage.

Picking it up, he wrapped it around her wrist as gently as she could. Her breathing was shallow; after turning her head, he pulled out the elastic from her hair. Her hair spread like thousand dark strands in water. He threw off her shoes after some struggle with the straps, then sat on the bed beside her. He remembered her for the past few weeks – jumpy, frightened, tense. Why didn't he catch the warning before?

"Arie, you fucking idiot," he whispered. "You fucking, goddamn idiot."

She made no reply. He kissed her, and felt her shallow breathing, but nothing more.

He was losing her, like sand in his outstretched hand.