Finally, finally back to this story. I just couldn't get this chapter into a way I liked it, dithered around with it in several incarnations, and then gave up altogether. For over a year. But whatever, trying to get back in the saddle here (and the fact I get fave & story alerts about this still, so I guess people actually like this one?). Hope you enjoy, and I promise that we'll have a change to everybody being all morose and shit… soon.
Alright, so he'd kind of fucked up. A little. Not that he'd admit to it, mind you. They couldn't have done much anyway given their lack of resources. Well, sure they could have, but he doubted Reeve wanted 'Turk opens fire on reporters in hospital' as a front page story. Everybody on his case because he didn't like it.
He'd actually started to respect AVALANCHE. They'd been tough, kicked his ass enough times to earn it. Elena, in all of her rookie wisdom, thought they were kinda cool. Tagged in for them, took care of them like she wanted them to like her back. The others seemed fine to help out too, for the time being. But he didn't like it.
Didn't know how many times he'd have to stress it before it started to sink in.
After all they'd done to earn his (somewhat grudging) respect, they just had to turn around and pull something like this. Laying around all weepy and helpless, acting like it was the end of the world for them. If they wanted to belly up, far be it from him to try and coax them back.
Red XIII, he could still respect. Hung around a couple of days and then got on with his life as soon as he found out what the final body count was. Didn't stick around crying the blues. Sure, he'd been a little sympathetic to their cause the first few days. Tried to be nice to Tifa when he was posted in her room, when she'd finally woken up after three days as a comatose wreck.
She was okay too. Still pretty together. When she wasn't out of it or sleeping off whatever painkillers she'd been taking. Was tempted to roll his eyes about that little development. Seemed stand-offish and fatalistic when she was coherent and not trying to sugarcoat it like she did for the Princess or Barret's kid. Almost tempted to ask why she was doing that. Never pegged her as being a pill-popper. Considered for all of a second before he remembered that he didn't care. Had to respect her though. Somebody that banged up being able to sneak around all of them and the staff to get at the pills wasn't something he figured anyone else could have done. Found it ridiculous nobody called her on it yet. Everybody knew.
Detox was going to be a bitch. Hoped everyone else was going to like getting puked on. Wasn't going to bother sticking around to play at Florence Nightingale. Figured he was just going to cut and run on his own. On thin ice with Reeve already. Pissed off his partners just because he wasn't as invested in this whole mess as they were. He'd miss 'em, sure. But in the way you'd miss long-time co-workers you'd palled around with.
They still had a reputation. He wasn't worried about people coming after him, trying to settle some past grudge. If people were upset about Sector Seven, well, he didn't care fuck all about that. He'd been doing his job. Go dig up old man Shinra and piss on his corpse if you wanted to get revenge on anybody.
Reeve had called him a few minutes before, let him know they were almost to the relief site, that he'd be on the air soon. He'd wished the other man luck, told him to take digs at Rufus and the old man if he had to. Talk about Hojo being a fucking lunatic. Not like it wasn't their fault in the first place. Reeve had a good two hours and change on the flight to think about what he was going to say, how he was going to spin things. So long as he made a statement before any news sources blabbed about their 'discovery' of AVALANCHE, he figured they would weather this just fine.
Had passed the news off to Elena, who had only given him a punk-rocker caliber scowl in return. All of them packed together in Barret's room, his daughter awake and cranky from all the commotion that'd been going on. Figured he didn't want to be caught up in that shitshow and wandered back to Tifa's room, giving an excuse that somebody should be keeping an eye on her, gone as she was.
Where she gone to? Barret had asked uncertainly, still dulled down from that knock on the head. He'd just tipped his head to hide the sneer and backed out of the room. Those two probably thought she was upset. Just hurt from the way Godo had beaten her around. Probably couldn't wrap their heads around it.
So, there he was, sitting at the foot of Tifa's bed, leaning back in the chair, feet propped up on the stiff mattress pad. Nothing much to do around this godforsaken place except for stare at her. Nah, too creepy. Wished he would have just taken off from the get-go, rather than stick around with Reeve. Should have never bothered to pick up Cait Sith's transmitter when Cid had patched through to it.
Lockhart was laying on her stomach, mouth open to breathe due to the gauze plugs up her nose. Probably sacked out before removing them. Discoloration along the bridge of her nose in a rather regal shade of purple, red crusts rimming her nostrils. Right arm was folded up awkwardly above her head, out of the way so she wouldn't roll onto it. Wrapped lightly, but he'd seen it out in the open. Like something out of a goddamn horror movie. Odd she went to such lengths to keep it out of sight, out of mind. Didn't seem as horrified of the burn scars up and down her left forearm. Of course, she had always worn those gloves over them. Knew it was a result of Nibelheim. Huge scar running hip to collarbone in a diagonal swipe. Things she didn't flaunt, but at the same time, didn't act like it was something foreign stuck to her. Beyond that and the pressure wrap around her midsection, the stitches on her forehead, she didn't look that bad. Had seen her pretty torn up in the past. Had been there the time Rude had nearly knocked her brain-dead.
Kind of wished she hadn't crashed out. Sure, she pretty much hated him. Not that he held it against her, oh no. But anything had to be better than putting up with the sadsacks in the other room, or just sitting around here feeling like a creep, staring at a half naked woman sleeping. Would have enjoyed getting snappy with her. Settled on glancing around the sparse room, hoping it would keep his attention for all of five minutes.
The bags she'd been holding onto were all open, shoved into the corner, looking like she'd been organizing them, unimportant things piled into the pack on the right, which had tipped over. Probably going through them when Godo had come along party crashing.
At least he'd been nice enough to have checked over Vincent's gauntlet when he and Tseng had been rummaging through the remains of the Highwind. The wires sticking out of it, he'd figured it was cybernetic or something. Nearly pissed himself when he'd fiddled with the clasps, leaving a rather gamey, decaying arm to fall free, some ruined piece of equipment embedded in the end of the limb where it had been taken off. Would have caught more hell if they hadn't caught that until Tifa had been looking it over. Probably would have been worth the laugh, however.
Slid down in the chair to give himself another inch or so of reach, braced himself and nudged her none-too-gently, right on the wrap job over her calf. Left a bit of a tread-print on the sterile white, but she didn't even budge. He tried again, a little harder this time, and still, not even a twitch or a frown or something.
So much for a chat. But, if she was that out of it…
"Mind if I have a smoke, dearest?" Already had his pack out as he asked, lighting up without hesitation. Took a long drag before exhaling, tipping his head back to watch the smoke drift lazily toward the ceiling. Noticed the smoke detector winking red at him, ominous, almost daring him to keep it up. Way the time was already going…
With a sigh he pushed himself up, tromping to the window and sliding it open, taking another pull. Window screen was ripped across the bottom, right edge curling in the stiffening wind. Glad Reeve hadn't wanted him to pilot the chopper to the relief site. If the weather kept up, it'd be a bitch navigating back, especially if they were in too poor of a standing to wait it out by the time Reeve was done playing Dateline NBC. Running from those Slummers like their lives depended on it, probably. Felt like maybe he should be feeling a little responsible for Tseng and Rude getting shoved along on Reeve's little suicide mission.
Hell of a Danish, though.
Pushed the ripped screen out to tap the ashes off his cigarette, staring down at the streets below. Boring place. Small town shit, nothing compared to Midgar. Felt a little lost in the lurch, since everything died down. Nothing to get his blood pumping. Nothing to get excited about. Hadn't even managed to take a swing at one of those fucking press hounds. Felt that, in retrospect, it was a wasted opportunity. Used to chomp at the bit whenever he'd hear about AVALANCHE causing too much of a problem. Volunteered to go after them, despite the fact his first meeting with them ended with a severe ass kicking and his arm being broken in three places. He'd never volunteered for anything before that.
Tried picking fights with them now because they were pathetic. Got a black eye from needling at Highwind too much, but that'd been okay because at least the bastard still had some fight in him. Not like Yuffie crying and simpering all the time. Not like Barret, clinging to his daughter and acting ready to martyr himself. Not like Tifa, shoving her problems down two-by-two, to sleep like the dead and just be conveniently numb to the world as she saw fit. Not like Reeve, trying to muster up the backbone on the fly to save the Slummers from tearing themselves apart.
Pff. Let 'em.
Rolled the spent filter between his thumb and nail of his middle finger and flicked effortlessly, watching the still-lit cherry as it fell, disappearing into the neatly manicured bushes on the ground below. Turned from the window, leaving it propped open so the room would air out from the sharp smoke-scent, not that Lockhart would ever notice.
Made his way back to the lumpy, understuffed chair and threw himself back down, glancing around for the remote control to the tv mounted in the corner of the room. Didn't feel like messing with the channels manually. Local broadcasting was limited, lot of media production took place on the Plates. Some of the equipment had made it out for Channel Five, they'd been covering the evacuation, doing 'front line reporting' so to speak. Operating somewhat shoddily out of one of their crew vans at the edge of the relief site these days, former Star reporter looking more ragged every day she gave a report. Junon was the next closest city with major news coverage. Western and Northern majors still had channels operating, mostly just news, everything still focused around the Meteor, the fall of Shinra, Reeve's work, and the continuing mystery about AVALANCHE's whereabouts. Major celebrities doing telethons, information about food drives and donations, nothing outside of Meteor's aftermath was on any channel.
Aside from GSTV, which, given Dio's philosophy on people using entertainment to distract themselves, was airing almost nothing but old cartoons. Neither option ever appealed to him.
Should at least tune in to catch the majority of Reeve's speech, if nothing else than to be prepared for when he'd have to drag Lockhart's ass out of there for when the angry mob came for them. She'd been respectable when she'd been well, so he could spare her that much. But where the Hell was the remote? Scanned the room idly, in no real hurry, despite hearing Elena shouting something along the lines of 'you getting this?' at him from down the hall. Sounded a little worried.
Well, fuck.
Not like he really expected anything different though. But where was the… there! Remote on the mattress pressed under Tifa, corner of it sticking out from beneath her ribs. Snaked his hand out and plucked it free, idly noting that she made a short noise at the back of her throat as she was jostled.
Thumbed the power button, blank screen fading into color, leaving him staring at the hospital's default channel, just a stationary camera focused on the pulpit of the small in-house chapel on the first floor. Fucking morbid. Want to watch some television while you're recuperating and feeling like shit, and as soon as you turn it on, bam! Jesus statue and organ music comin' at you. Scrolled up a few channels until he caught a shaky, low-angle shot of Reeve, standing up on the makeshift podium the site had erected in order for easy addressing of the crowd. Number of large tents in the background, temporary living quarters, knew they were all set up with row after row of military cots, like a wartime field hospital.
On the stage, behind Reeve were Rude and Tseng, exchanging a look which Reno immediately picked up on. It was one that none of them ever really gave to each other. Kind of a 'we're fucked' look, if anything. Probably had to do with the charred husk of the Cait Sith 'bot Reeve was holding up, dangling it lifelessly out to the crowd.
-And that's why until all of the facts can come to light, both on Shinra and AVALANCHE, I will be leaving administration of the relief effort in the capable hands of Everett Domino, until you can decide whether or not to place any further trust in myself.
Capable and Domino should never have been uttered in the same sentence. Ever. Powerless, mousy little man, lameduck for the Slummers to vote for, like they actually had some shred of power. He was completely inefficient, yet because he was always bursting with charisma and demanding that the people of the slums 'deserved better' he'd won six straight terms. No doubt Reeve would still be running the show behind the scenes, but the fact he was saying he was going to step back until he earned their trust, it was certainly smart pandering to the refugees.
And Domino would be the perfect puppet mouthpiece for him. It was actually a pretty good idea. He'd been expecting Reeve to just go up to the crowd and start shouting I was Cait Sith, we're the good guys, nyah-nyah-fuckin'-nyah! Should have tuned in when he first got the call from Reeve. Oh well, not like they wouldn't be replaying the speech on every channel ad nauseum for the next month.
For those of you just tuning in at this hour Channel Five's sodden, seen-better-days star reporter was on camera now, running a hand through her unkempt hair self-consciously. Reeve Tuesti formerly of the Shinra corporation has given an official statement as to the status of known anti-Government rebels AVALANCHE, who were last heard from when two of their upper echelon operatives managed to escape their executions in Junon. Furthermore, Mr. Tuesti himself has admitted to an association with the group, and claims to have information absolving them of blame in a number of crimes the former Shinra regime had accused them of, including the bombing incident that dropped the Sector Seven Plate-
Well, at least he'd be notorious when all the facts about that started coming out. Nudged Tifa again with his foot, causing her to crack an eye, unseeing, before shifting back into her dead sleep. Party pooper. Would have liked to get her opinion on this one. Play a little point-counterpoint with another bomber. Of course, her opinion was probably along the lines that he ought to have been drawn and quartered over the plate incident.
-action to this revelation has been surprisingly calm. Though this reporter has to wonder just how much truth there is to Mr. Tuesti's information, and how much of it is him simply trying to pass the blame off to deceased parties. It looks like we will simply have to wait and see just what exactly this information he has pertains to. Perhaps we can get an exclusive interview with him, once we cover former mayor Everett Domino's follow-up address. In light of this information, I doubt there is anyone more trustworthy suited to the task of presiding over the relief site in light of Mr. Tuesti's decision to step down from a leadership position. As we-
Jeez, talk much? Looked like they didn't have much to worry about after all. Unless Domino managed to fuck something up. But he'd been too small time to get his hands dirty like any of the higher-ups. Probably would have loved to, but he was like the equivalent of the kid nobody in class liked, but he got put in your group anyway. Figured that if Domino were the lynchpin in anything then Meteor certainly had been damn near the end of the world. Not bothering to listen to the reporter anymore, he shoved himself up out of the chair and made his way to the door, not sparing a glance back. Sauntered down the hall slowly, hooked a right into Barret's room bracing his shoulder against the door jamb to take a look at all of them.
"What do you guys think?" He asked, taking in the answer for himself when nobody answered him verbally.
Nobody was in tears, Barret wasn't making vague promises to turn himself in and spare everybody else any trouble, Elena seemed to have simmered down a little. All of them still glued to the screen like they were hypnotized, all except Marlene who scrubbed at her eyes fiercely, scowling at the screen before looking expectantly up at her father.
"Can we put something else on?" She asked expectantly, clearly bored with all of the politics, the information over her head and out of her concern. Barret tore his gaze away from the screen, shushing her slightly, like he'd been forced to do it every five minutes. Obviously he and the kid were on the same page in this regard. What was going to happen was going to happen. No use giving yourself an ulcer. Plenty of time to worry yourself sick when somebody was coming at you with a knife.
"I like how you think, kid." He nodded, seeing the way she glanced up shyly, little hands burrowing into her father's shirt, ducking against his chest like she was trying to hide. He'd been admittedly less than pleasant to her when they'd met the kid, after she'd been taken hostage. Blurted out a 'How the fuck did that happen?' when she was explained to be Barret's daughter. The word adopted ground out soon after he popped the question. So he hadn't known the guy was that benevolent, take in a friend's kid. Whatever. Smirked in a way he figured wasn't menacing and jerked his head to the right. "If your dad says it's okay, you can probably go watch something in Tifa's room. She's out like a light."
Big brown eyes shot up to her father's face, searching for approval, and he nodded once, moving his arm so she could scoot off his lap. She hopped down to the floor and made her way to the door, looking up at him uncertainly, expectantly, hoping he would move and let her by.
"One condition, Short Round" He paused, index finger up, like dictating to her, she nodded to him, either cowed into submission because he was considered 'mean' (oh, if only others had such polite ways of saying they hated his guts), or because she figured she could be watching cartoons that much faster if she agreed. "If anybody besides one of us comes into the room while she's still asleep, give us a yell, okay?"
"Yep." Already squeezing past his hip, anxious to watch something fun.
"I'm serious, kiddo!" He called after her, watching as she disappeared into Tifa's room without another look back.
"Passing your job off onto a kid now? Niiiiiiiiice." Elena grumbled sarcastically from her perch on the window sill. Her earlier malice had smoothed over a little, leaving her rolling her eyes at him, like she was used to it, expected something like that all along.
"I did you guys a favor." He protested, waving the comment away. "She was probably asking to change the channel every five minutes."
Cid just nodded, the set of his jaw speaking volumes. Reno could relate. Never liked it when his old man would watch News channels for hours on end; resorted to nagging him to please, please, please put something else on. Usually got a smack for his troubles. Figured Barret wouldn't take a swing at her no matter what, but knew it was probably obnoxious to everyone trying to pay attention.
"Seems like everybody was… okay with what Reeve said. Figured there was going to be a riot." Cid put in finally, nails rasping over the stubble on his face. Had given up shaving altogether with the finger splints on, wasn't going to lower himself to asking one of them to help him with it. Probably didn't trust any of them with a blade close to his throat. Manly man that looked fine with a coat of stubble anyhow, so it all worked out.
"People under the Plate were sympathetic to him. Any plans he came up with for improving the slums were voted down. Wanted to get Sector Seven rebuilt, but those fuckers wanted ta raise taxes an' just leave it wasted."
How the Hell did they know that? Wasn't sure who the mastermind in AVALANCHE had been, always brushed each one off individually as being too dumb, except for maybe Red. But maybe that was what had made them so dangerous. Had all kinds of resources and information they shouldn't have been able to get on their own. Majorly underestimated Tifa and Barret because they'd lived in the Slums; Barret had always sounded like a dumb thug, and Tifa… well, he'd always just figured somebody with a short, short skirt like that couldn't have been too smart. Maybe he'd just set his expectations too low from the get-go. Maybe he should've expected more, and then wouldn't have had to admit to any sort of respect for them in their prime.
"Think his word'll be enough to keep the heat off us?"
"Hope so." Barret shrugged "'Course, some of that stuff, we actually did."
"Yeah, well, now that Reeve's dangling that information on how corrupt Shinra was, people are going to look at what you did and figure it's justified." Elena put in, shrugging. While he had to agree on that one, Cid and Barret didn't seem to share her conviction. They were too focused on the collateral damage. So long as the ends justified the means, that was enough for the Turks.
"Hmph."
On the television, Domino had taken the podium and was going on and on, passionately about how Reeve had been nothing but honest to them, always on their side, and that they were all good people, he knew they would come to the right decision on the matter, and could only ask them to give him time to explain.
Guy was a Hell of an orator. Used pretty words to make people think he was actually worth a damn to them. Figured he was sort of on AVALANCHE's side. He, Rude and Tseng had found video footage of the rebels going through some stupid game of his when they'd broken into the Shinra building. No audio on the tape, but from the way Domino seemed to be ranting at them, they figured he'd been ranting about how mad the President made him, how they destroyed part of the slums and weren't doing anything for the people, blah blah blah. They'd considered blowing him in to the Preisdent, but when that fiasco was all said and done, Old Man Shinra was dead, Rufus had taken over, and had already kicked Domino to the curb because he wasn't 'necessary'. Rufus wasn't looking to pay lip-service to the crowds like his father had. He wanted them to be afraid. And getting rid of a friendly face like the Mayor had been a start. No use causing a fuss and costing the guy his pension. They weren't monsters.
It had been a ridiculously good move by Reeve, in retrospect. Good for crowd control, liked to be at the relief site, going around talking to people with Hart in tow, seeing how everyone was doing. Pitching in to work himself. Probably because Reeve had been the only one that really cared what mattered to those people, he brought in somebody that was able to relate to them. He doubted anybody else would have had the foresight for something like that. Rufus, in all of his wisdom of how to keep people under control, would have never considered it, he was certain.
Before he could start musing on the failings of his dead boss, sharp, buzzing rattle of his phone startled him out of it, the others tearing their attention from the screen for a moment, curious to see who was calling, probably figuring it was Reeve.
"Yeah?" He answered unceremoniously, before the phone was even all the way up to his ear.
Looks like we're going to be here a while. Rude on the other end, with even less of a greeting. Not that either really cared about the lack of pleasantries between them. Had a system. Interacted like some kind of old-time comedy duo. Rude played the straight man to his obnoxious, chafing attitude. Were so close that people often figured there was something a little… funny about the two of them. Remembered being somewhat disturbed when Yuffie had started a debate with her teammates once, claiming they had to be a 'couple of 'mos'. Reeve's got to talk to Domino once he gets off stage, and looks like the weather's turning bad.
"So me and Elena have to hold down the fort for a while, you mean."
It won't be a problem, will it?
"I don't know about Elena, but I've been out of diapers long enough to do big-boy work." He scoffed, rolling his eyes. Sure, he was tired as Hell, but he figured they could stick it out for a few more hours, especially since their biggest remaining trouble-maker probably wasn't going to be up for a while. "Anything else?"
Get something for Tifa to eat when she wakes up. She'll probably be feeling sick to her stomach. Probably knew from experience, given how fucked up his knee had ended up in the war. Wanted him to do it because Reeve was paranoid about the kitchen staff trying to poison them or something.
Ridiculous.
"Jesus, I'm sick of this baby-sitting shit, you know." He protested, despite the fact that he'd do it anyway, because it was Rude asking.
Hn. No goodbye, just the click as he hung up, leaving Reno to scowl and jam the phone back in his pocket, leveling his gaze on the two AVALANCHE members in the room.
"Alright, they're going to be gone for a while, so no fucking around. You follow me?" He warned sternly, pointing to Elena as well. "That goes for me and you too, 'Lane. Just remember if shit goes down, we are out of here."
He kind of wished something would go wrong for them. Just so he'd have the opportunity to do something interesting rather than just stand around uselessly.