Violence/gore warning for this chapter: character death and graphic descriptions of it.

"Aw man, I'm bored," Reno sighed staring at the ceiling of The Squat from where he lay on the worn couch. There was nothing good on TV and he didn't want to go home. He put his hands behind his head and thought about the latest computer program he was writing. He wanted to surprise Vincent with it, but one set of algorithms were giving him the shits and he couldn't quite figure out where the problem was. Maybe if he re-coded the command for the-

A loud, vibrating echo caused the redhead to sit bolt upright. That sounded like a gunshot! ShinRa never allowed weapons to be discharged in the building, so why was he hearing one now? A second gunshot had him leaping off of the couch and hitting the door at a run, drawing his own sidearm as he did so. Racing down the hall, he rounded a corner and came to a screeching halt as he came face to face with a scene from his worst nightmare. Vincent was sprawled on the ground in a slowly growing pool of blood with Rude and Tseng standing over him.

"Boss, no!" He shouted, bolting forward without thought and falling to his knees in the blood as Rude joined him on the other side of Vincent's body. "Oh shit, there's so much blood, man!" He said, edging closer to panic. "What do I do?" Reno asked, in such a rush that all the words meshed together. He looked up at his partner, face pale and eyes glassy and full of fear.

As Tseng flipped open his phone and called the emergency medical units, Rude grabbed his hand and put it over the wound that was slowly oozing blood with a strange rhythm that could only be what was left of a heartbeat. "Press here," the big man said as he leaned down over Vincent's face. "He's not breathing." Rude said, moving his hand to Vincent's neck. "No pulse," he muttered and positioned himself to begin chest compressions. Rude looked at Reno, "Don't let up on the pressure over that hole, Reno, whatever you do."

"Is he gonna make it?" Reno asked looking back and forth between his partner and Tseng who was pale-faced, his black eyes hooded and unreadable.

Rude shook his head as he began, muttering, "One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand, four-one-thousand, five-one-thousand, breathe." And switching positions to pinch Vincent's nose and cover his boss's mouth with his own in an artificial breath before moving back to the chest compressions.

Reno began to sweat, wiping an eye on his shoulder when it began to burn when sweat rolled down into it. "C'mon boss! Don't you die on us!" he said, watching Vincent's ashen face and blue lips. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!"

In the background he could hear Tseng's calm voice talking to the medical response team, "There's been a shooting at the ShinRa Tower, two males down, mid-thirties, in need of immediate medical assistance…" He couldn't understand how Tseng could be so calm at a time like this!

"What the fuck?" came a rather loud, rough voice from the other end of the hallway.

Reno looked up in time to see Verdot walk over to Rufus who was slowly trying to drag himself back to his office. With a savage kick, he flipped Rufus over onto his back and got down onto his knees, straddling the man. Verdot fisted his hands in Rufus' shirt and yanked ShinRa up to spit into his face and say, "You rotten piece of stinkin' shit. You've gone too far and now you're gonna collect what you've earned." Dropping Rufus, Verdot then began beating him until blood splattered his shirt and Rufus's face was nearly unrecognizable. Panting, he stopped when Rufus quit struggling to get away, and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a knife. He then forced Rufus's mouth open, grabbing the man's tongue and with a quick jerk of his knife severed the muscle from Rufus's mouth while Rufus screamed. "He's not your whore anymore." Verdot said brokenly, and spat on what was left of ShinRa's face.

Reno looked at Verdot, torn between horrified and awed, until Rude captured his attention once again: "Don't let up Reno!"

"Right, right!" he said quickly, pressing down harder on Vincent's chest, only to jump when what sounded like a strange wheezing moan escaped from his boss's throat. "What th-!"

"Reno!"

"Sorry!" he apologized, hastily reapplying the pressure. "Where are those paramedics, Tseng?" Reno shouted desperately.

"They're on their way," Tseng said quietly heading to the elevators.

"Where th' hell're you goin'?" the redhead shouted, earning a glare from Rude.

"The lobby, Reno, someone needs to meet them and show them where to go." Tseng replied calmly as the doors slid open. He met Reno's terrified gaze. "Just listen to Rude, I'll be right back." The doors slid shut with a soft 'thud'.

There was a watery gurgling coming from Rufus and Rude growled, never changing the rhythm of his CPR, "Would someone please shut him up?"

"With pleasure." Verdot sneered. Pulling out his gun, he walked over to ShinRa and shot the man in the forehead, instantly silencing the sounds. "Better?"

"Much," Rude said, an evil smile on his face.

They waited for what Reno thought was an easy hour, which turned out to be closer to eight minutes. A 'ding' commanded their attention as the emergency medical response team spilled out of the elevator, complete with wheeled gurney. Gently pushing Rude and Reno out of the way, one of them said, "We'll take it from here, sir."

While the one who spoke began unwrapping packages and readying a portable defibrillator, the other began to cut open Vincent's shirt and check for vital signs. "I have no pulse."

The one manning the defibrillator adjusted a dial, and flipped a switch. "Charging, get the bag ready." There was a high pitched whining sound as the machine charged and he grabbed the paddles. The other paramedic tore open packages of thick gauze that he placed over the wound before reaching for a heavy plastic bag with a mask to cover mouth and nose. "Ready!" He said, placing it over Vincent's face.

"Clear!" The other paramedic shouted, and placed both paddles on Vincent's chest and discharged the electric pulse, causing Vincent's body to jerk. The one holding the bag squeezed it and checked for a pulse. He shook his head, "Nothing. Again!"

"Charging!" He looked up at Tseng, "What about the other?"

Tseng looked over at what was left of Rufus ShinRa, then back at the paramedic. "He's dead."

The paramedic nodded. "Clear!" and thumped Vincent's body again.

"I've got a pulse!" The other shouted and they flew into motion, lifting Vincent's body onto the gurney after securing the neck brace, and running him to the elevator. Tseng squeezed into the elevator after first tossing the keys to Rude and saying, "Follow us…Minerva Memorial Hospital." The doors slid shut and on the ride down, one paramedic began preparing an infuse of lactated Ringer's solution while the other continued to operate the artificial respiration. Once down, Tseng directed them out the front doors and climbed into the transport behind them. As they sped to the hospital he looked down at the lifeless face of his best friend. "Hold on, Vincent." Then he pictured Cid's face and the adoration he had seen written plainly upon it every time he had looked at his 'brother'. "Hold on!" As the paramedics called in stats and requested preparations be made for the receipt of yet another gunshot victim.

When they arrived at the hospital and the transport doors were wrenched open, Tseng flung himself out of the way and the paramedic team ran Vincent into the emergency room. He followed close behind and no one stopped him.

"Over here! We have Room 4 set up…"

"BP 48 over 24…"

"Get his clothes off…"

"I need that shot of atropine…"

"…Difficulty breathing, grab that trach tube…"

"Estimated time of injury, approximately one hour ago…"

"Jessie, take his blood. We need to check his levels…"

"We're losing him, we're losing him!"

"Sir? Sir! Do you know what blood type he is?" Tseng shook his head, clearing it, as a nurse rushed up to him.

"Uh," Tseng thought fast. "He's type A."

The nurse nodded and scurried off. She came back quickly with three bags of blood and one of plasma, and they started an intravenous line immediately. It was chaos. There was no other way to describe the activity. But it was a controlled chaos. Everyone knew his job and moved around the others in perfect synchronicity. Suddenly the beeping that he hadn't noticed before changed into a flat, steady tone.

"He crashing!"

One of the ER nurses rolled a cart up immediately and Tseng recognized the defibrillator. Another nurse grabbed the paddles. "Clear!" There was a deep thumping sound as the current was discharged once again into Vincent's body, making it seize briefly.

"No response! Again!"

A pause as the machine charged. "Clear!" Again, there was no response. They thumped him four more times without change before the attending doctor put out his hand and stopped the movement, shaking his head, and immediately all activity stilled. He pulled his face mask down, looked at the clock, "Time of death, 1:43 pm," and began cleaning up the mess they had made.

Tseng felt all color drain from his face and he suddenly felt lightheaded and chilled. They were giving up? He wanted to shout at them but his vocal cords were frozen. He wanted to run to Vincent's side and continue CPR himself, but his limbs were leaden. All he could do was look at his friend, his brother, lying there in a mess of coiled tubes and blood-soaked gauze, a length of plastic tubing down his throat, face paler than paper that was slowly turning the gray of death. Vincent's lips here blue and hung open, his jaw slack. His eyes, those striking red eyes were half-open, glazed and sunken deep into his head. His body, so thin and brittle-looking was coated and streaked with drying blood. Tseng was having difficulty breathing, as a lost sort of panic began to rise. What was he going to do? Vincent had been his whole world. He had just found the man, only to lose him so soon! And then it hit him.

He had failed.

He had taken it upon himself to protect Vincent. A man who, despite his hard exterior and critical mentality, was so fragile. Just as he had always been in life. If he had just waited and walked up with Vincent, it would be him on that table, having died doing what he had sworn to himself to do, what any one of them would have done.

"No!" someone shouted, and he jerked his head up to see a young nurse, the one who had taken Vincent's blood only minutes before…Jessie?…move back to the defibrillator and turn the dial up as far it would go.

"Jessie," someone else sighed in exasperation. "He's gone, let it go."

"No," she reiterated while the defibrillator charged. "Dyne, help me! Get on the bag. We've lost too many, and I can't do it anymore. We always just give up. Well, I won't lose this one! I won't!" And when the defibrillator signaled its charge, she yelled, "Clear!" and thumped Vincent yet again. The other, Dyne, worked the bag, pumping air back into Vincent's reluctant lungs while the defibrillator charged yet again. "Clear!" Over and over she thumped him, and when that didn't work she set to manual chest compressions, her young, pretty face set in grim determination. Every time someone tried to stop her, she would shrug them off and Tseng found himself chanting in a whisper, "Come on, Vincent, come on…come on, come on, come on…" He noticed that he wasn't the only one staring fixedly. Several nurses were leaning forward as though willing life into Vincent and he noticed the mask shifting on another as her lips moved as though in a strange prayer.

"Unbelievable!" Dyne whispered from where he stood at Vincent's head. "Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait!" he yelled and everyone stilled immediately. "I've got a pulse!" he shouted, and everyone flew back into motion.

It was at that instant that someone grabbed Tseng's shoulder and began to pull him out of the emergency room. He tried to fight them, not wanting to leave Vincent's side, but their grip was like steel and he was too drained to put up much resistance. "Sir," the woman said in his ear and he turned his head, ripping his eyes off of Vincent to see one of the nurses tugging on his arm frantically. "Sir, you can't be here. Let us do our job and please move to the waiting room. The doctor will speak with you as soon as he can, okay?"

Dumbly, Tseng nodded and drifted down the hall and into the waiting room. He was the only one there, mercifully, and he just stood in the middle of the room feeling lost and in shock. He needed to talk to someone, but no one was there. Wait, he had his phone. He pulled it out and with trembling fingers dialed a number he had committed to heart. When the other person picked up, he finally felt the adrenaline of the last couple of hours wear off and he began to shake, teeth chattering. "Aerith?"

She had picked up as soon as she'd seen the number, pleased and surprised to hear from him. "Hey! You just caught me at lunch. Wanna…" she was in the middle of asking him to join her when she registered his tone. Frowning, Aerith asked, "Is something wrong? Are you sick? Don't sound so good…"

Sitting down rather heavily, he said shakily, "Aerith? I don't…I don't know what to do."

Her frown deepened, and she wiped her mouth with her napkin, sitting back in her chair. "Well, I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong." Others might consider her words harsh, but she was only telling the truth.

His vision focused abruptly at her impatient tone. "He's going to die, Aerith. Vincent was shot, and he is going to die. One would think you would be a little more supportive. That man is the closest thing I have to a brother," he growled.

"Well, how was I supposed to know- " she broke off, sighing. "Look, I'm sorry…you're right. Would you like me to take the afternoon off and come down so you aren't alone, or do you want to be with him?" She could understand Tseng's pain in some dim way, but her life had made her nearly as much a statue as Vincent's had made him. There was pain everywhere, all around, and living with that had inured her to its effects. As such, the deeper cuts always took her by surprise, and she often forgot that others dealt with them differently than she. "I'd like to stay with you, if I haven't offended you too much already. Oh, Tseng…Cid," she whispered as she remembered why she even knew this man.

Tseng dropped his head into hand at Aerith's contrite apology. "It's okay, it's just…Aerith, I don't know what to do. It should have been me! I was supposed to protect him, and I didn't. It should have been me." He was so tired. "I…I think I need you," he said softly, still very much unaccustomed to feeling the way he did towards another. "Look, the others should be here soon, and I need to fill out paperwork for…" he couldn't finish, it just hurt too much. "I just…I have to go. I'll talk to you later, all right? And I'll…I'll call Mr. Highwind, I owe him that much." That was a phone call he was not looking forward to making.

"Now stop that," she said softly. "You know he would feel the way you do now if it had been you, and you're miserable. Would you really wish that on him?" She winced. This was not going well. She'd never been a good over-the-phone conversationalist. "Where are you? I'll be right over as soon as I can. You know Cid's going to drop everything and rush over without even finding out where you are or what happened, right?" Maybe she'd wait a while and pick him up on the way. It would be faster than letting him walk, not that he'd be content to move so slowly. "Do you think I should wait for him?"

"But I would be fulfilling a promise. Death would be an honor, not a waste like this…" Motion caught his attention and he looked up to see the other three come striding into the hospital. Both Reno and Verdot were covered in blood, but from very different sources. All looked drawn and apprehensive. He waved them over. "We're at Minerva Memorial Hospital. You do what you feel you have to. I'll see you soon," he ended in a whisper and gently clicked the phone shut.

She bit her lip and closed her phone after hearing the line go dead. He was really in bad shape, and she'd managed to make it worse instead of keeping him strong. Maybe, sometimes, even Tseng needed to be comforted. For a brief moment, she thought of him as weak, and was then disgusted with herself. He wasn't weak, only human, as was she…and she should be there for him. She would be, she decided, nodding firmly at a nearby plant. She wasn't hungry anymore, so she dumped the rest of her lunch and marched purposefully up to Palmer's office.

Hang in there, guys! Regular update next Friday.