Author's Notes: -insert broken-record excuses here- This is a shorter chapter unfortunately, and I had trouble coming up with a fitting title, so I just pulled something out of my ass. Suggestions welcome. Updates will be sporadic, as I have no internet. Enjoy, and sorry for the delay!

Chapter Three:
Untold Requiem

"You're counting days on the back of your hands,
you turn the pages 'til you have no more plans."

Another file landed in the pile, powdered dust scattering like a smoke cloud as it landed on a dozen others. The blonde sighed, rubbing her eyes before drawing out another file. She skimmed the pages, searching for the subject's physical description as well as what types of experiments the late scientist had performed. One would think that there might be some rhyme or reason to his madness; but even still, on day three, there was no organization to the files, the labels – for those that were labeled – or the contents. She groaned, discouraged, as she thumbed through the pages. A hazel eye flickered over to her, watching her for a moment.

"Sorry," she said quietly, tossing the file to the side. "I just…I have no idea what I'm looking for. It's like…trying to find a needle in a haystack, except that I have no clue what the needle is." He smiled to himself, though the expression was fleeting and unnoticed. "I wish I knew which of these files would be relevant…" her voice trailed as she picked up another file.

"…As a base, you'll be looking for something to do with both Mako and Jenova cells," he remarked suddenly. A sapphire gaze darted to him, but he buried his face beneath his file. "But…on a higher level than SOLDIER – much higher." She studied him curiously, watching his face as he nervously forced himself not to meet her gaze. Her cell phone shrieked, the shrill sound startling both of them; she giggled to herself as the scientist jumped, and she pulled the source from her pocket.

"This is Elena," she answered. Cobalt eyes rolled and she sighed. Faintly, the professor could make out a man's voice on the other end. She shook her head, laughing half-heartedly to herself. "I already did. And maintenance said they would fix it." Apparently, the response was protested; a hand brushed blonde tresses from her face, and she slouched back in the chair slightly. His gaze left the page hesitantly, glimpsing the blonde before hastily ducking beneath the page of another file. "Fine, I'll call them again," she caved finally. "No, you're welcome – though it is something you could do…" she giggled playfully at the response on the other end before hanging up.

"Sorry," she added, turning her attention back to the file. "Apparently, they still haven't gotten Reno's water fixed."

"…What's wrong with it?" he asked casually, squinting to read words over a page that had been handwritten in particularly tiny cursive.

"He's convinced that his hot water isn't working," the blonde answered, shaking her head. "But…well, call me crazy, but…it looked like he'd just had a steam bath. I don't know…it doesn't make any sense, to be honest…"

"You found him in a tank of Mako, right?" Blue eyes flickered up to the scientist and his confidence seemed to shatter beneath her gaze. "Er…Mako, when used as a…preservative…it's usually heated to just over one hundred degrees – that keeps the body temperature regulated…prevents the, er…tissue from decaying and…organ failure…" His voice trailed as his gaze sank back to his file, though his eye didn't scan the page for answers.

"…That's right," she replied quietly, recalling the evening she found him. "The solution he was in, I remember it being warm. Wait…so…he…he can't feel that the water is hot?" she asked uncertainly, and he hastily shook his head. Hart set the file down and his face twisted thoughtfully for a moment.

"It's not that he can't feel the temperature," he corrected, voice a little stronger. "But…his body was regulated at a higher temperature than it is used to…so his tolerance for temperature is off." She nodded, considering the explanation, and he drifted back to the file. "It…it should wear off after a couple of weeks, once it adjusts to the differences," he added hesitantly.

"…That…that makes sense…" she replied, astounded. "Derik…how'd…how'd you know that?"

"…I'm…I'm a scientist?" he answered tentatively, eye not leaving the page. Eyes scrutinized him thoughtfully and she nodded slowly.

"…That makes sense…" she repeated in exaggerated awe. An anxious smile tugged at his lips as she laughed to herself, flipping her file to the next page.

*~*~*0*~*~*

The days had stalked by just as slowly for the tenacious redhead as Reno continued his evaluations beneath the watchful eyes of the director. Three days of psychological evaluations, C.T. scans, M.R.I.s, sleep studies, physicals, blood analysis, reflex testing, more C.T. scans, more M.R.I.s, more blood analysis… The results of his first M.R.I. showed his stomach had shrunken – a normal side effect of long-term tube feeding. At the least, it explained why he still had trouble stomaching most foods, but the doctors seemed sure enough that he could retrain himself to eat with time.

"What the hell do you mean 'one more week'?" Reno protested.

"Reno, we have to wait on all of the results to come back," the director explained. "I know you've been really patient, but…one more week, Reno." The redhead's gaze fell and he slouched back to the chair, pouting. "You have my word, Reno. As soon as the results come in, I'll assign you a mission." Jade eyes met the director's and the redhead sighed, defeated.

"I'll hold you to that," he muttered, pushing himself from the chair. He walked out of the office and sighed, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets. What the hell was he supposed to do for a week?

'Patience…' his mind advised him, and Reno shook his head. Absently, he left the president's office, heading back to his apartment. The door closed behind him and he sighed; he had to remind himself that this was his apartment. After all, he was used to a small studio with just enough space to have to actually clean once in a while.

Elena had said that they had left all of his things in here. Granted, he'd never been the sentimental type, but he had a few things he'd collected along the way. Anxious feet refused to stand still, pacing curiously over the length of the apartment. He fingered a small shot glass on the empty book shelf. Crystal had been etched with an intricately designed sea turtle, flecks of dust standing out in the tiny creases. The redhead chuckled to himself; it had been a souvenir from his first visit to the Turtle's Paradise in Wutai. Rude had pocketed it while the bartender wasn't looking, and given it to Reno later on the chopper ride home. He'd just been a rookie then, Rude having been three years his senior in the department.

"Congratulations," he said, a slight smile tugging at his indifferent expression. Behind the shades, icy blue eyes could make out a slight gleam of sarcasm and humor, and he let his gaze fall over the shot glass once more. "You're officially a Turk."

"What, because of a stolen shot glass?" Reno asked, eying his tall partner with disbelief. He did smile then, lips curving in an almost unnatural expression over the Turk's face.

"It's a tradition," he explained. "All of the Turks have one." The redhead raised an eyebrow, studying his partner tryingly. Finally, eyes fell back to the trinket. Moonlight gleamed over the surface like the still surface of a lake, peering through and glimmering over the etched sea turtle. In small print, he could make out the Wutain symbols for Turtle's Paradise.

Even still, the sunlight gleamed over the etchings and through the thin film of dust that lingered over the surface. He set it back down, smiling to himself. A gentle sound touched his ears, almost like the whisper of a lazy breeze. The redhead hesitated, finally shaking his head as it ceased. Gently, fingers pulled at a desk drawer, and suddenly, his heart fluttered; inside, a faded shoebox, clearly tattered and worn by the years, rested delicately inside. Almost hesitantly, he pulled the box from its cavern. Powdered dust coated the lid like a freshly fallen snow that lingered over blades of grass. He blew over it, sending tufts to the air as they scattered, swirling in the light. A digit traced a line in the sand, rolling like tumbleweed over the flat surface, and finally he pulled the lid free.

It was only half full – but they were memories. A copy of the photo they had taken during his first visit to Wutai. They'd taken several at Turtle's Paradise, and though it hadn't been the best, this one was his favorite; Tseng had just almost fallen off his barstool, having dropped his napkin, and Reno, himself, bellowed with laughter at the scowl. A few of the other Turks – now long since gone – joined his laughter, one in particular spitting her drink. He'd never realized it, but Rude was pocketing the shot glass that later became his. Reno smiled, chuckling to himself. A soft knock echoed over the hollow apartment, and he startled.

"Reno?" a voice asked from the other side; he sighed to himself. Elena had been one of his closest friends after Meteorfall – though his closest had naturally been his partner. But in this instant…he loathed the thought of her visiting.

"It's unlocked," he answered finally, eyes prying themselves from the contents of the shoebox. The door swung open, creaking slightly as the blonde let herself in. She closed it behind her, smiling.

"So you've finished with your tests?" she asked, slowly stepping towards him. "You must be glad it's over."

"I'll be glad when I can get back to work," he replied, spitefully recalling that he was banned from missions until the results came in.

"…You okay?" she queried quietly, sitting down beside him. Heaviness settled over him, weighty like a looming storm cloud. Green eyes glanced down to the photo in the top of the box, and lids sank closed. Heat nipped the corners of his eyes, swelling inside the pit of his stomach; for a moment, he thought he might be sick again.

"It just…it doesn't…feel real," the redhead admitted quietly, eyes fighting back the tears. One rolled free, slipping lazily down his cheek. It loitered there a moment, teetering as though it debated on whether to fall or stay plastered onto pale skin; finally, he swiped it away. Blue eyes bore into him, scrutinizing his movements carefully. "I just…I didn't…" He sighed, eyes blinking away another tear. "I didn't get to say goodbye…" he finally choked, words barely a whisper as he forced himself to swallow a hiccup. A hand rubbed his nose quickly, and he sniffled reflexively.

"Reno…I want to show you something," her soft voice finally replied, and jade eyes met hers. Cobalt shimmered with tears, and she smiled, letting one fall shamelessly as she stood. Hesitantly, he followed her. She led him from his room, and keys clanked like wind chimes as he pulled them from his pocket. Green eyes watched the blonde suspiciously, her delicate expression unreadable beneath the fluorescent lights of the hall. The lock clicked, and he stuffed brass keys back into his pocket. Quick footsteps approached the elevator, and they boarded wordlessly; blue eyes focused on the red numbers as they descended and the redhead eyed her curiously. She rocked back on her heels, gently teetering there before touching back down and repeating the motion. Hands clasped behind her back, and she rung her fingers; teeth sank into pale lips, not breaking soft flesh as she chewed her bottom lip impatiently.

Finally they opened on the ground floor, and she didn't give him time to inquire. He followed her, straining to keep up with her quickened pace as she guided him down the hallway. She hung a left, then a right, and then another left; he was starting to lose track of where he was. They rounded the next corner, and the hallway stretched into a pair of double doors. Pale afternoon sunlight peered in through the windows on either door. Faintly, he could make out leaves waving from outside, green leaves yellowed slightly from the season.

Her card swiped, and the pad let out a squeal as the automatic doors opened. Freshness washed over his senses; the fragrance of sun-warmed dirt swirled with the bitter perfume of freshly cut grass, and a hint of the budding chrysanthemums tickled his nose lightly. Leaves rustled lazily in the passing breeze as she stepped out into the courtyard. A bird chirped gleefully, its song resonating over the lively area, and the first leaves to fall crunched beneath his loafers.

"It's over here," she said quietly, finally allowing herself to speak. She crossed the sidewalk, heels scuffing rigidly over stone, and she hesitated as she neared a small memorial. It was dark granite, polished so that the daylight reflected over it even on the cloudiest of days. The redhead eyed her, curiosity gleaming over jade irises. Loafers crackled quietly as he walked over the weathered sidewalk, and he examined the memorial. Granite had been cut into a small obelisk, perfectly shaped and pointed dully to the sky. Small words had been etched onto the flawless stone: 'We won't let the fear of death, which each of us knows, stop us from living our lives…'

Green eyes reread the engraved phrase, tears swelling as he read the name below it. Bitter heat nipped at the corners of his eyes, and tear drops leaked free like the first hesitant raindrops of a storm. He placed a finger over the sun-warmed stone, tracing the words with a delicate finger. A soft tone tugged at his attention, a whimsical sound ringing gently against his mind. Eyes closed against the daylight as he focused on it; his mind reeled inward, and he could no longer make out the rustling leaves. Instead, he let the sound fill him, warm and inviting as tones shifted into syllables. But they were broken, and he couldn't make them make sense.

Fog hazed the distant mountains, and rain splattered over the windshield like a torrent, like an ocean wave over his vision. It was a helicopter, he realized, noisy and rocking dangerously against the unforgiving winds. He could hear a voice, the director's voice, cutting through the static of the headset that pressed against his ears, but the sound was muted against the wind, and the rain, and the protesting engines. Through darkened shades, ones he normally didn't wear, eyes cut over to the pilot, rigid features sharply focused as he cursed again; the chopper swerved violently, and his eyes tore away, cutting back to the vehicle's vitals – stable, for now. A gloved hand reached for a knob, and Reno vaguely realized it was not his own.

He swallowed dryly, uncertain if the motion was his own or… But he knew what this was. What he was watching. A moment passed, and he tried desperately, futilely to tear himself away.

A thought drifted over his mind, and for a fleeting moment he wondered if it was his or the Turk's, quickly recognizing it as the latter's. He considered suggesting that they call it a day, turn tail and flee, try another day…but the stubborn director's response fluttered over his mind almost as if spoken. Quickly, the vehicle swerved again, veering narrowly in time, and he cursed again as he tried to find something…a reactor, a town, a landmark beneath the blinding fog, wind, and rain.

"…I'm turning back," he said finally, defeated and loud enough, clear enough for pricked ears to make out through static and howls that lashed at the helicopter.

"…'Bout time," he replied knowingly, the words slipping over his lips in the smooth voice Reno remembered. It sent chills over him, and he let his mind pretend it was the Turk's reaction to a sudden gust that seemed to even cut through the sealed vehicle. Gloved fingers reached over, pulling a knob and flicking a switch to adjust the pressure in the engine as they prepared to ascend. Suddenly, the vehicle sputtered, jostling violently as it lurched to the side. Steam burst into the fog, pure white against a blanket of gray, and a curse whispered free as he tried to fix the issue. A thought flickered over Reno's mind, and he realized that the Turk knew no amount of lever pulling or knob twisting would stop the inevitable.

"Rude, what the hell happened?!" the director shouted demandingly, trying to halt the death spiral that tugged the helicopter in all directions.

"Engine leak," he replied hastily, trying to activate the backup valve. The gear was jammed, and Reno willed his strength in hopes that he could help the Turk in time. It gave finally, and the engine hissed. Hands groped aimlessly, absently, as he tried to make something, anything work. Eyes focused on the screeching indicators desperately watching for a change. "No good – it's one of the reservoir pipes…the engine is completely useless!"

"Brace for impact!" Tseng shouted suddenly, and eyes pried themselves from needles and flashing lights. He turned sharply, automatically to the window; eyes traced the creases in rock, the muted green moss that crept up the side of it, and suddenly…

Darkness…

"His remains were buried in the old Midgar Cemetery near Edge – where a lot of the victims from Meteor were laid to rest," the blonde said quietly, her voice tearing him from the memory. Eyes snapped open, and he winced at the bright autumn afternoon. "Midgar…was his home – but ShinRa was his life." Unable to choke words free, Reno merely nodded, distantly rubbing an eye as the tears came freely. A heavy hand fell over his shoulder, and he let it linger there. Moments passed; leaves rustled almost silently over the courtyard, and the song-struck bird had since flown to some unknown distance. Only the wind sighed over them now, and he felt it tug at his tee-shirt. Unwillingly, he trembled at the slightly chilled breeze, the season beginning to hang over the air thickly; the anniversary of Meteorfall would be approaching in a few months, as summer faded into crisp leaves and bitter chills.

"Thank you…" he finally whispered. She gave him a half-hearted smile, an expression he couldn't bring himself to match. Jade eyes avoided her gaze, the redhead knowing well that if he saw remnants of watery tears over polished sapphires, he would likely start again himself. Finally, Reno allowed her to guide him back through the maze of brightly lit hallways and back to the cramped elevator. The ping of approval was almost silent in his ears as she swiped her card, granting her access to the upper floors.

His apartment seemed emptier now, keys echoing hollowly as he rested them on the coffee table. Pale light filtered through, specks of dust still fading in and out as they wafted through the room. Energy sapped, he allowed himself to fall to the sofa, the faded shoebox shuffling in protest as the furniture shifted. Bright eyes lingered over the photo on top, and he finally closed the dusty lid, curling up on the suede cushion beside it.

"The only time you had to think of all the things involved
came when you were least expecting."

Quotes: Pages, by There for Tomorrow