Author's Notes: Finally. A hopefully accepted conclusion to Didn't, written by a friend of mine.
Don't
An hour earlier and he could have been stopped, even if only by force. Two hours earlier he could have been talked down, swayed by a voice as broken as himself. Three hours earlier and he would have been able to understand right away. Four hours earlier and a gun never would have been considered. Five hours earlier…
Were it not for the blood, it would have been beautiful. The suddenly fragile Wutain, skin as pale as a lily, eyes as dark as night, hair as soft as silk, looked like doll. The already broken executive, covering the still body, his cheeks wet from the tears he had shed, bruises and burns still visible on the skin of the broken man. Yes, were it not for the blood, it would have been beautiful. But there was blood soaked into the dark hair of the Wutain, and an unearthly stillness to the mourning man whose body was draped over the former-Turk.
Five hours earlier and maybe they would have been okay. Six hours earlier and the pair would have already been working through the pain. Seven hours earlier and the fact that he was alive would have been a cause for celebration. Eight hours earlier and they would have been talking about how the corpse hadn't looked anything like Reeve. Nine hours earlier and…
But it didn't matter anymore, did it? You could go on forever like that. Twelve hours earlier and the executive could have watched as those who deserved to die were brought to justice. Eighteen hours earlier and they wouldn't have found the charred 'remains' of the man. Twenty-four hours earlier and he never would have been gone in the first place.
It wasn't twenty-four hours earlier though. This was here, and this was now. Here and now the apartment was empty, save him and the dead. Here and now there was silence, save for his breaths. Here and now there were two bodies, one dead by it's own hand, the other betrayed by an already ravaged body, mind and heart.
Here and now there was Tseng, leader of the Turks, victim of suicide, and the belief that his best friend had been captured, raped and murdered. Here and now there was Reeve, victim of kidnapping, ransom, torture and rape. Here and now there were two bodies, tied together more in death than the two had ever allowed themselves in life.
And he knew, Rufus knew, that with a flick of his hand they would be gone, swept away to be cleaned and committed to the earth and the sea. A single motion and Tseng would be sent to Wutai, given the burial of a coward and traitor instead of cremation of the noble. One moment and Reeve would be sent to his family in Junon and committed to the sea in the age old way.
Twenty-four hours ago he might have considered doing just that.
But this wasn't twenty-four hours ago. It wasn't eighteen, or twelve, or six. It wasn't even an hour ago. It was here and now. Here and now he knew what he could do for them. Here and now he gave the order.
In twenty-four hours their ashes would mingle together, allowing them in death what they had been denied in life.
All it took was time.