Summary: "Reno..." It's all Rude can say, he can't give false comfort with lies. They've never lied to each other, not in the ten years they've been partners and he doesn't intend to start now. Instead he closes the tiny gap between them and presses their lips together.

Reno/Rude fic. Set between the collapse of Sector Seven and the Presidents death. Mature Audiences Only!

The Unforgiven

Shadows linger in the corners of everything, it's dark, although it's always dark beneath the plate. Very little natural light can trickle down to the people below, the people no one gives a shit about. Ramshackle huts scatter the area, hand-crafted with corrugated iron, wood so old it's half rotted and just about anything else the people can get their hands on. The ground's arid, nothing grows there except monsters, both the human kind and the other. Thieves lurk in corners, awaiting vulnerable targets. Whores stand on porches, showing off their wares in skimpy clothes, displaying bruises, scars and sunken cheeks. Disease is rife, there are barefooted kids running around, even at this time of night, kids with haunted eyes and horrible, weeping sores on their skin. Everything is dirty, it's why ShinRa insisted on hiding it away, like pushing it all under a rug so no one had to look at it.

A shadow moves within the shadows between two buildings, a flash of light appears, a glowing red dot. It flares brighter for an instant before dimming again as it's lowered, smoke drifts from the alley and the shadow walks forward on silent feet. Silence is good, silence means dangerous. People see the figure and fade away before it, even before it's revealed to be a young man wearing a black suit. White shirt incongruously bright against the filth surrounding him. He could be an ordinary salaryman, except for his hair. It's red. Not a natural red, not orange or auburn...it's as red as blood. He wears a small pony tail, tied back with a band and on his head rests a pair of flying goggles. A cigarette dangles loosely from his left hand, his right is shoved into a pocket as he lifts pale blue eyes upwards to the plate above. He stares at the blinking green lights, like tiny, poisonous stars, before returning his eyes back to the ground. Back to the filth. He passes beneath the light of a street lamp, revealing two strange markings beneath his eyes. It's impossible to tell what they are, whether tattoos or scars. He smokes as he walks, each foot fall light and easy, his slouched shoulders make him resemble one of the many young gangsters who dwell there. People still draw away from him, eyeing him warily, mothers drag their children from his path and stifle potential questions with quiet hushing. The man doesn't seem to notice.

The strange man walks through a kids play park, a large moogle slide dominating the area that is fatally wounded by a large, jagged piece of metal embedded in its head. A badly damaged swing set moves slowly back and forth, as if a bunch of ghost kids are still playing. The man's eyes move to them and he seems to pause for a brief second before moving on again. He glances back up at the plate, cigarette rising to his lips and smoke escaping through his nose. Slowly, as if his sight is drawn to it, he looks back to earth and sees the massive wall of rubble that had once been a doorway into Sector Seven. It's difficult to tell in the dark but it might be that the man trembles, just a little. He moves over to the wall of rubble, eyes moving upward, staring into strangely clear, dark sky beyond. He blinks, eyelids lowering for just a second to hide his cold eyes. Then he drops his finished cigarette onto the ground, grinding it out with the heel of his boot. Considering how his suit is so clean, his boots are an odd contrast. They're caked in mud and look as if they haven't been polished in a while. Finally he turns away from the sight of a thousand deaths, he hangs his head and puts his left hand in his pocket, just like the other. He hunches his shoulders and walks on, moving with an easy, loping grace. His hair is the brightest thing in the slums, except for the stains of blood on the bar room floors and the flashing green lights from above.

The bar, when the man enters, is dingy. There's very few people there, most too shit scared to come out of their self-made homes. AVALANCHE is the big bad wolf, they'll come howling down on you the second your back's turned, they'll eat you alive and then kill your kids. Or at least...that's what they say. AVALANCHE, run by an insane guy who has some imaginary beef with ShinRa, there might be a girl there somewhere but not too many people survived the Sector Seven plate fall to tell for sure. There's someone else too, someone they fear more than the mental guy from Corel...he's got a sword that'll slice through anything, they whisper. He's the real bad guy. Ex-SOLDIER...real nasty piece of work. Stronger, faster, better than anyone ShinRa's got left now, all the good guys died, KIA they say. They whisper, behind dirty hands, that ShinRa should never have allowed such a monster to leave. Who was watching him? Someone should be held accountable for inflicting this insanity upon the innocent. They talk in muted whispers, hiding lips behind dirty glasses clutched in dirtier hands. There's blood there, for sure, there's always blood in the slums. The fact is, no one really knows. The only person among them who knows the truth, who had witnessed it all, who had, in fact, caused the whole shit to go down in the first place, is sitting at a bar with a drink clutched in one painfully tight fist. He's the guy with red hair. The guy with the black suit, stark, white shirt and sharp, cold, killers eyes. No one fucks with him, he's skinny but the way he holds himself warns the rougher ones to stay away. It says that he's killed more people than they have ever seen. It says he'd kill them without a second thought. It says he's a Turk.

No one really knows the truth of what went down in Sector Seven. No one knows that it was all started with the push of a red button and the input of a code, a simple gesture that caused more destruction than the explosions that took out the reactors. The people are scared, the slums reek of despair and fear. They fear the man with the gun arm, the man who hates ShinRa more than any other person, they fear the rogue ex-SOLDIER. They fear him and his massive sword, a sword that stirs memories for some. Memories of another man with the same weapon, a man with black hair. But those memories are fuzzy, they're not certain if he ever existed and his face is a shadow in their minds. He had a name once, the dark haired one, a name, a face and a reputation of sorts. Some people claim to have seen him in the slums, hanging around with some girl. Some claim he never existed at all, surely they would have heard of him if he had? Some insist he had a small fan club, like those other Firsts, the ones who went mad and took off and died. Most don't care at all.

The red haired Turk half listens to the talk, the whisperers eye him warily but don't dare to do anything more. Their hatred for ShinRa isn't strong enough for them to risk their lives. He takes a slow swig of his drink, eyes downcast, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. If one was to look closely enough they'd see the flash of bandages beneath his shirt, just a tantalising glimpse into the real pain the man is in. The barman watches the young man carefully, fully aware that he could cause trouble. He sees him lift the glass to his lips, take a sip and lower it, the movement regular and methodical, eyes staring into empty space as if he were day dreaming. The barman doesn't like him, not one bit. He makes him uncomfortable, having a Turk in his bar was never a good thing. Usually it scared away most of his customers, and that meant a loss of income but sometimes it caused a fight. He didn't want a fight. He couldn't afford it. So, he watched carefully, ready to throw him out if he shows any sign of starting trouble. The bar is small, a few tables dotted here and there, the floor is sticky and the few lamps providing very little light. The barman himself is round about the middle, dressed in a dirty white apron and sporting an impressive greying moustache of indistinguishable colour. The Turk finishes his drink and pushes the glass back down the bar, the barman refills it automatically and pushes it back again. No words are exchanged, the barman doesn't want to hear this man's troubles and the Turk doesn't want to share them.

The night draws on. The kids finally go to bed and the real hard nuts start to crawl out of their dens. Knives flash in the dark, muffled screams bring no help. Money is exchanged, whores cry out in false pleasure. The city beneath the city comes alive. All it's hidden evil spilling into the streets like the putridity from an infected wound. They're worms and maggots, come to feed off of Midgar's rotting lower belly. No one is safe. Up above, lights flash, people go to shows, the opera house, the movies and rent expensive escorts for the evening. People laugh up there, they laugh and don't think about the fact that below their feet is a world full of despair. A world where children die forgotten and alone in gutters, a world where there's no such things as heroes and the only thing a person can rely on is their own wits. Survival means being able to defend yourself, it means stealing to eat, it means killing. It's dog-eat-dog. The people above have no idea and they don't want to, they're blind to the suffering, to the rot and disease and that's just how ShinRa likes it.

Finally the Turk stands up, ready to leave. He's a little unsteady on his feet but he's still got that strange, dark aura that keeps the weirdo's at bay. He walks back the way he came but pauses outside the bar, his eyes move to an alley that leads to the most famous place in Wall Market. A place that sells the best flesh available to anyone willing to pay the extortionate prices. He hesitates, shifting from one foot to the other, contemplating the alley as if it's hiding all the secrets of the universe.

"You don't need that place."

The voice would have made anyone else start but the red haired Turk merely turns his head, a tall figure emerges from the shadows. Light shines on his bald pate, flashing from the rims of expensive glasses. He's got the powerful shoulders of a pro-wrestler, his gloved hands are clasped before him as if he's at military parade rest. The red haired one shrugs his skinny shoulders, eyes moving away and staring off into the distance. "Thought you'd gone with Tseng an' Elena, yo." The red head's accent is slightly jarring, for someone wearing such expensive threads it's the accent of the slums. Surprising for such a richly dressed man.

"I told them I'd see to you first. President gave me leave." The big man replies, his voice is deep, resonant and oddly soothing.

"Don' need ta be babysat, yo." The red haired man replies sharply, eyes narrowing in a way that would send even the most hardened criminal crying for his mama.

"Not here to babysit." The other says, voice low and level. He shifts, stirring up some dust with his boots, he's dressed impeccably, in complete contrast to his fellow. His suit is neatly pressed, starched collar done all the way up and secured with a black tie. His jacket is zipped up, his gloves shiny and new looking. The only thing that is vaguely mismatched are his sunglasses which are slightly lopsided, as if they had been broken and repaired very recently.

"Then why're ya here, yo?" The redhead drawls, walking away from the temptation of a night full of soft skin, fragrant hair and gentle, feminine moans. He kicks at a stone embedded in the ground, frowning at it angrily as if it had insulted him in some way.

"You don't come down here often." The big man walks at his side, easily keeping pace. "Not since Veld. Not unless there's something bothering you."

"I'm fine, man. Don' try an' do all tha' psychological bull-shit on me, I'm no' some stupid rookie."

"Reno-"

"What?! Gods damn it Rude, jus' ge' the fuck outta my face!" Reno turns on his friend, glaring angrily. The tension in his shoulders should be warning enough for anyone else but Rude seems unimpressed.

"I'm not going anywhere, partner."

"Then shut the fuck up an' let's ge' drunk." Reno growls, stalking away and leaving his partner to catch up.

They find another bar, this one larger and far more familiar. The man behind the bar looks up, blanches and then swallows. He hasn't seen the Turks for a while, and had hoped they'd given up after stealing his barmaid. Obviously he had been sorely mistaken. "What can I get you boys?" He tries for friendly, his smile only a little stiff around the edges.

"One shot o' everythin', Angelo." Reno says, sitting down on a stool and pushing a fistful of cash across the bar. Angelo, despite his reservations, takes it. One thing about the Turks, they always had plenty of money and he wasn't one to turn away good, hard gil. He lines up the shot glasses and starts to pour drinks, each one a different alcohol. They shine brightly in the glimmering lights from the ceiling, the bar isn't crowded, not tonight so soon after the terrible destruction right next door. However, he's confident business will pick up, eventually people will forget the fear, they always do. The booze gives off an eye watering stench, but Reno doesn't seem to care as he closes a shaking hand around the first glass. He lifts it in a mocking toast. "To ShinRa." He growls and downs it in one. "To fucked up orders..." His voice trails away, ending in a soft breath as he hangs his head. Silence descends, Angelo refusing to look up from the glass he's wiping, he doesn't want to know what the Turk meant by that toast, there was too much sarcasm in it. Too much anger. Getting involved in that kind of dangerous talk will get you killed, so he stays out of it.

Rude sits in silence, only drinking when his partner insists. He's not drunk by the time Reno passes out, he knew what would happen and so he had ensured he stayed sober. He stands, lifting his lighter partner onto his shoulders as easily as he would carry an infant. He nods to the barman who seems glad to see them leaving, despite the money he had just made.

It's not easy dragging the dead weight of Reno to the train station but he does it, he does it because he knows the source of Reno's insistent self-destruction; a slow suicide by alcohol. Rude understands but he can't bring himself to simply stand by and allow Reno to go down the drain, he's lost too many friends already, he can't lose him too. They're partners, brothers, there's nothing without Reno. The train arrives promptly and they board it, leaving the filthy streets of the slums behind and return to the plates above. It's where they belong, standing among the rich, standing in ShinRa's shadow. Invisible.

Sector Zero consists of nothing but the towering metal monolith of HQ. For Reno and Rude it's home, the only home they've ever really known. It's where they first met, where they had their first argument, where they first met the rest of their new family. It's weird for Rude to think that all that is gone now, the pain is still there though. It sits in his chest like a lead weight and it's not eased in the year or so since. The first incarnation of AVALANCHE was far more dangerous than this new one, their leader, Fuhito was a soulless man. As dangerous as anything ShinRa had inside its walls. Rude remembers the day he, Tseng and Reno were nearly executed by their own bosses. He remembers the summon as it rose high above the city, striking terror into even his own heart. He sees, in his minds eye, Reno falling onto all fours after Veld's execution, seeing him fall apart at the seams and being utterly helpless. He remembers his family; Gun's laughter, Katana's wicked sense of humour, Cissnei's sweetness. He remembers watching Tseng turn the gun on Veld, he remembers the shot that killed him. They were all gone now. It's only the four of them, together for better or worse. Tseng, Elena, Rude and Reno, the last remaining members of the most dangerous department in ShinRa.

Reno's apartment is barren, empty and cold. The rooms are stripped down to the essentials; seats in the living room, cups, plates and cutlery in the cupboards in the kitchen, a bed and wardrobe in the bedroom. They don't spend a huge amount of time at HQ so 'home' is on the road. It's wherever they can rest their heads. Their apartments are generally only for show, a light coat of dust covers everything as Rude heaves Reno through the door, allowing it to hiss shut behind them. He drags him to the sofa and drops him onto it, watching as Reno's arm falls to the side, finger tips brushing the plush carpet. Rude looks at his chest, the place Strife had almost sliced him in half. He remembers watching as Reno leapt from the plate support and threw himself into the helicopter. He remembers catching him, holding him as blood poured over his hands. The memories make him shudder so he pushes them to the back of his mind, instead he focusses on his partner in the here and now. The way his chest rises and falls, the way his hair spreads over the couch cushion. He's alive and that's what matters. Strife got the jump on him but if Reno's good at anything it's surviving. He's had worse and recovered just fine, Rude's insistent that he'll recover from this too. As he watches Reno's face twists, the shadows cast by the dim light streaming through the only window make him look sick and gaunt. He groans, muttering under his breath, something about screams. Rude watches, seeing Reno's teeth bared, seeing his hand rise limply before dropping back again. He's dreaming. He's having a nightmare. Rude knows what they're like. He moves to the kitchen and puts on the coffee machine, listening to it gurgle for a minute before pulling out two mugs from a cupboard and blowing off the worst of the dust. He briefly peeks into the living room to check on Reno but he remains asleep. Satisfied, Rude pours the coffee after its done, and adds sugar to Reno's before returning to the living room and flicking on a light. He sits down, shoving Reno's legs off of the sofa and waking him. He bolts upright, broken EMR sliding easily into his hand as he turns, searching for his attacker. Rude makes no comment, only holds out the mug. Reno blinks, realising he's home and with a familiar face. He takes a slow breath and nods, taking the warm drink from Rude's hand and sips it. The quiet sinks into their bones and they feel themselves relaxing in the only place they ever do. HQ is cold and dreary but for two men who have never known a true home it's the closest thing they've got to a safe haven. Reno sinks back into the sofa, the tension leaving his muscles and a soft sigh escaping parted lips. He lifts a hand and rests it over his bandaged chest. Rude watches the movement.

"You holdin' up?" Rude asks, making Reno open an eye and look at him.

"As well as I can be, considerin'." He mumbles in reply, eye closing again.

"He nearly cut you in half."

"Yeah. I was there, yo."

"You all right?"

"Fine." Reno insists irritably, sipping his coffee again. There's silence once again until Reno breaks it, he hates silences and always has. "I'm gunna fuck him up, yo." He mutters, a twisted smile gracing his face, sharp cheek bones standing out even more due to the strange marks beneath his eyes. "I'm gunna kill 'im. Get a new weapon an' shove it so far up his pretty li'l ass he'll be givin' off sparks for a week, yo."

"Tseng's said you don't leave HQ 'till you're healed, man." Rude reminds him, causing Reno to glare at him. He shrugs, they both know Reno's unfit for duty.

"Fuck you, man." Reno grumbles, sinking further into his sofa and sighing again. Rude likes to see Reno relax, it's not something that happens often. Neither of them can afford to relax when it could mean their lives. When Reno's relaxed he seems to get younger, the hard planes of his face soften and he smiles a lot more and not his usual smile which gives off the impression that he's going to either fuck you or kill you, depending on his mood. The man becomes the lanky twenty-something he is. Rude has always suspected Reno's real age is about the same as the president's son but neither of them can know for certain, not without a birth certificate, which neither of them have. Reno's eyes half open and he gazes up at the ceiling, his tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly. "Wha's gunna happen?" He asks suddenly, turning startlingly clear eyes to Rude. Reno's sober now, how he does it Rude'll never know. Going from drunk to sober in the space of a few minutes is a feat he's never seen anyone else do.

"Dunno. Boss says he'll put you on easy duty until you're healed-"

Reno waves the comments away with one lazy hand, a frown marring his smooth brow. "Not abou' that, yo. About everythin' else...abou' AVALANCHE, abou' us..." His voice trails away and he takes a sharp breath, one hand going to his ribs and a wince crossing his face.

"..." Rude is silent, he has no answer so he doesn't speak at all.

"Though' so." Reno sighs, drawing his hand away and looking at the palm. there's a slight stain there.

"Go change your bandages." Rude insists gently, extracting the mug from Reno's lax fingers. "Doctor said not to drink, didn't he? Dilutes the blood, stops the healing."

"Fuck off." Reno tries to stand but his legs are unsteady, he groans and bends a little, gripping his wounded stomach and baring his teeth. "I'm gunna kill him. I'll raise him from the fuckin' dead an' kill him again an' again...that blond fuck!"

Rude stands too, setting aside the mugs on the coffee table. He puts an arm around Reno who, for once, doesn't complain. He guides him into his bathroom and sits him down on the toilet seat. He knows Reno's just talk, he has no intention of doing too much damage to Cloud Strife, in fact Rude thinks Reno has more respect for him than he's letting on. The kid's strong, stronger than most opponents the Turks have had in a while and it's nice to have someone challenging for a change. If they killed him too quickly it wouldn't be quite as fun. There's a mirrored cupboard above the sink and Rude opens it, pulling out reels of white bandages and a potion sat right at the back. He puts the potion aside for later use and starts to gently peel Reno's jacket from his trembling shoulders. "Don't move so much, you'll bleed to death otherwise."

Reno grunts and swallows, eyes clenched shut tightly. "That sword..." He mutters as Rude starts on his bloodied shirt. "You remember it, right?" Rude grunts, of course he did. "Fair's sword." Reno finally opens his eyes and looks down, Rude's on his knees between his legs, looking up at him through his glasses. On impulse Reno reaches forward and takes hold of Rude's glasses between two fingers, he pulls them off and balances them on the sink so he's gazing down into deep brown eyes. Reno's bloodied shirt hangs off of one shoulder, there's something unreadable in his eyes, something Rude's never seen there before. His bandaged chest is exposed, revealing a light stain of blood. His pale skin is covered in bruises, marked by Cloud Strife. He's got a bullet wound in his upper thigh too but that's covered by his trousers. He cups Rude's chin and draws him up, Reno's eyelids fall half way and his lips part. Rude's frozen. Captivated by Reno's mouth, his stained skin, his red hair, incredibly bright in the harsh light of the bathroom. Their lips are brushing, Rude's own eyes are closing. Reno's hand slides around the back of Rude's head, cupping it and making sure he can't escape, not that he really wants to. "I did it Rude." Reno's whispered breath hitches and the sudden agony revealed in his face is like physical pain but worse. So, so much worse. "I killed 'em."

"Reno..." It's all Rude can say, he can't give false comfort with lies. They've never lied to each other, not in the ten years they've been partners and he doesn't intend to start now. Instead he closes the tiny gap between them and presses their lips together. He pushes his tongue into Reno's mouth, tasting bitter-sweet coffee and the tang of all the alcohol he'd consumed earlier. This was why Reno had gone down into the slums, this was why he was making a vague attempt at killing himself with booze. It's why he's shaking so badly Rude can feel it. He lifts one of his large hands, still wrapped in leather and brushes away a single tear that had fallen from Reno's eyelashes. He deepens the kiss, forcing a moan from his partner. He wasn't entirely sure why he was going along with this...whatever it was. Rude wasn't the kind of guy to make the first move, always much more hesitant than Reno. But Reno's lips feel good, his tongue's warm and wet and Rude can't think of a good reason why this is so bad.

It's cold in the room but that doesn't matter, not when they're creating their own heat. Reno's hands move to Rude's shirt, he starts unbuttoning it but Rude grabs his wrists and halts him. He draws away, every movement slow and deliberate. He releases Reno's hands and undoes his shirt instead, revealing the bandages, the wounds and his pain. Green light fills the small bathroom, glinting off of pristine white porcelain. Reno's head falls back, exposing his pale throat as he sighs in relief. The pain must have been bad, if he's making a sound. Rude shakes his hand briefly, frowning as he turns to the fresh bandages and starts to unwrap the old ones. Cure always makes his hands tingle. He doesn't really want to see the damage, but he has no choice because he knows Reno's not going to change them himself. He pulls them away, slowly unwinding them from around Reno's body, revealing more bruises, more scrapes and then the deeper, more serious cut. It's been stitched up but there's still blood seeping from the wound, it's not healing right for some reason. The doctors said it would take time but something deep inside Rude wonders if they have that. Something's happening, something so big it's impossible to really comprehend. Rude lifts his eyes to look at Reno who's gazing down at him with heavily lidded eyes, lips parted, breath dense in his throat. Rude finally finishes unbinding the wound and looks back at it. The cut is jagged, it stretches from one shoulder, across his chest and to his hip. It's horrible and Rude's seen enough wounds in his line of work to not be squeamish. There's something awful about seeing it on his partner though, something that stirs the slow burning embers of his anger and pain. He swallows, unsure how to react. Finally Reno grabs the fresh bandages from Rude's slack hands and pulls the end out, he presses one end against his body and starts to wind it around himself, eyes concentrating on his task. Rude watches as the large gash is covered again, a little bit of relief seeps into him and he looks away.

"Pretty damned nasty, huh?" Reno whispers, eyes low, hands shaking as they moved with practised efficiency.

"You'll recover." Rude insists, hand lifting and coming to rest on Reno's thigh.

"Will I?" Reno looks at him, his eyes dead. His tone is unnaturally serious, his fingers release the bandages after tying them off. He sits there, perfectly still, shirt hanging from his shoulders, pristine white bandages covering his chest. Rude sighs, rising and taking up the potion. He holds it out and Reno takes it, staring at the bottle as if it was poison.

"Drink it."

Reno looks up at him again, his fringe falling into his eyes as he yanks the top off and downs the horrible drink. "Ugh." He winces, face twisting in disgust. "Horrible, man."

Rude's lips lift in a small smile. "They're not supposed to taste nice."

"Remember when they used ta do nice tastin' stuff? For kids? Why can' we ge' some o' tha'?" Reno puts the bottle down and stands up, a little unsteady on his feet so Rude moves to his side, wraps an arm around him and guides him out into the hallway. They make it to the bedroom which is dark, the blinds are drawn and the smell of disuse covers everything. Rude helps ease Reno down onto the bed and hears him grunt, mutter a cruse under his breath before sighing. "Rude?" Reno whispers finally, just as Rude is about to get off of the bed.

"...?" Rude turns, a question hidden in his silence.

"Stay." Reno's eyes are only visible in the light from the hallway, the bedroom door is half open. Rude sinks back to the bed, kicking off his shoes before helping Reno with his. Finally they lie back, Rude stares up at the ceiling and waits for Reno to fall asleep but that's not what he's got in mind. Reno rolls onto his side, reaches out a hand and slides it through the gap between the buttons of Rude's shirt. Rude turns his head, looking at his partner in the gloom. Reno's face is too serious, his usual lazy smirk conspicuous only because of its absence. "You wanna fuck?" He asks, his voice low and holding a seductive edge that Rude had never heard used on him before.

"I like women." Rude replies, turning away and gripping Reno's fingers in his own. "You know that."

Reno's smirk appears but its darker, there's very little real amusement in it anymore. He rolls on top of Rude, hands planted firmly on his broad chest as he looks down into his partners eyes. He reaches back with one hand yanks his hair tie free so red falls down over his exposed shoulders. Then pulls his goggles off his forehead. Slowly he rolls his hips, lips parting and a soft moan escaping him. Rude's own hands rise and grab his hips, he's not sure if it's to stop him or to keep him there and really he doesn't want to know. "Then pretend I'm a woman, yo. I don' fuckin' care. Lie back an' think of Chelsea."

Rude's fingers tighten painfully on Reno's hips, his brows draw down into a frown and Reno can see the anger there. "Fuck you Reno." He growls, sitting up and pushing Reno away from him.

"Wha', sensitive issue, partner?" Reno whispers hoarsely, leaning closer, pressing against Rude's hands on his chest, lips brushing Rude's heavily pierced ear. Again he rolls his hips, feeling Rude tense beneath him, feeling him hardening in his pants. "You wan' me." He breaths, eyes closing as Rude's hands move up his body, brushing his back to tangle in his hair.

"You know what she meant to me." Rude growls, yanking Reno's head back to expose his vulnerable throat. "You know she hurt me."

"I tol' ya. I told ya what she was man."

"Old news, partner. Give it up. I already knew." Rude hisses as Reno presses down with his ass, he's harder than he expected to be. Despite his protests he didn't mind fucking guys, he'd done it plenty of times before but with Reno it was different. It would mean the fulfilment of every dark fantasy he'd ever had and sometimes dreams should remain as dreams. Sometimes it's better to ignore those growing feelings, those dark desires because Rude's not sure how to deal with them.

"Fuckin' traitor bitch." Reno mutters, grinning as Rude moves closer, lips brushing. "Fuck me an' I'll make ya come harder than she ever could."

Rude doesn't doubt that. "Reno..." He whispers, closing his eyes and leaning in. Their lips press against each other, lightly at first before slowly growing hungrier. Tongues meet between open mouths, teeth clack and Reno hisses a soft curse. His brows draw down into a frown. Their hips are now moving together, still fully clothed and cocks aching. "Take off your pants." Rude orders and Reno obeys. They're shed quickly, thrown into an untidy heap to the floor. Rude slides his hand up Reno's bare thigh, pressing down hard on the bullet wound on his leg. Reno winces but doesn't complain. Rude lifts Reno up, rolling him over so he's on his back, he removes his own clothes and uses his tie to bind Reno's hands. Reno looks up, eyes dark and pupils dilated. Their breathing is the only sound in the room, Rude trails his bare fingers lightly over Reno's chest, brushing a nipple and watching his partner arch his back and hiss. They kiss again and it's unlike any other kiss Rude has had, it's electric, it sends sparks of pleasure shooting down his spine and when Reno mutters his name again he finds it very difficult to remember why he had been so reluctant to enact on his desires before.

They're close. Everyone in the department knows that, anyone with eyes can see how close they are but Rude has always been careful not to mix business with pleasure. He has always been wary of allowing himself to lose control around Reno. However, the thing with Chelsea, a woman who he had started to get close to and had turned out to be a spy for the first AVALANCHE, had made him realise that any attempts to have a relationship outside of work was impossible. As a Turk he couldn't trust anyone. But with Reno...? Reno knew the job, he was in on the secrets and they trusted each other with their lives. Who better to fuck than a man who wasn't going to use him for anything except sex? Who better than his partner, his best friend? It made perfect sense now. A smile curls the corner of his mouth as he reaches out and tugs Reno's head back, causing his body to arch. It's the sexiest sight Rude has ever seen.

"Put your massive cock in me and fuck me till I'm screamin' baby." Reno hisses, eyes narrowing as he thrusts upwards, arms rising to grip the metal headboard. He's stretched out beneath Rude, looking fucking perfect. The bandages don't seem to matter anymore, nothing does. Reno wants this and so does Rude.

Rude grunts, leaning to the side table and yanking open the draw. Somehow he always knows where Reno keeps his lube, it's an instinctive thing, Reno's never told him but Rude simply knows. Reno opens his legs, tongue lapping at his lips as Rude pulls down their boxers one after the other. They take a moment to look at each others erections, Reno swallows as he admires the sheer size of Rude. It's the biggest he's ever had, he wonders if it'll all fit, but only for a second as Rude slicks up two fingers and presses them, cool, against his ass. Rude takes his time, one hand pressed against Reno's flat stomach, adding another layer of pain to the burn of his fingers. Reno arches, eyes closing and a moan escaping his lips. Sweat springs out over his forehead, he writhes but doesn't let go of the bed.

Rude leans down, kissing Reno's temple in a gesture that's almost tender but also a little bit threatening. "I'll tell you a secret, partner." He murmurs, pushing his fingers deeper, hearing Reno curse. "Chelsea an' I, we didn't fuck. She couldn't take me, I'm too big."

"F-Fuck...Rude..."

"I gotta get you nice and loose, or I'll rip you in half."

Reno swallows, turning his head to give Rude a frown. "Tha' aint a-as sexy as you think it is, yo." He mumbles but a tiny smile curls his lips.

"I'm telling it like it is, partner."

"Huh...oh that's good..." Reno pants, eyes closing and a shuddery breath leaving his lips. His legs are spread wide now, his hips pressing down on Rude's fingers as he adds another. Reno gasps, bucking and wincing as the burn increases. "Ow..." He winces again, teeth bared as he looks up at the ceiling. "Careful down there, yo. Ya tryin'a stick your whole fuckin' fist in?"

Rude chuckles, leaning down and kissing Reno lightly on his pliant mouth. There's a small frown on his forehead which Rude smooths away gently with his thumb, Reno groans and pants and starts to move more quickly. His knuckles go white as he grips the headboard and a light sheen of sweat breaks out over his pale skin. Rude pulls out, he's as ready as he'll ever be. He gets more lubrication and slicks up his cock, ensuring Reno's watching every movement before grabbing Reno's thighs and lifting him as gently as possible. Reno hisses air through his teeth as his wound stings but doesn't tell Rude to stop, so he doesn't. He starts to push his cock into Reno's body, keeping it slow and steady, watching his partner intently as he holds up his legs. He's on his knees, his eyelids falling down a little and his lips parting as its his turn to start to sweat. He watches Reno's throat work, his eyes open as Rude slowly slides home. Reno's back arches, his lips part and he makes a strange, groaning sound as Rude's balls hit his backside. "Oh f-fuck...y-you're big..."

If Rude has to label himself he would say he's straight. He loves women, although they make him nervous and awkward most of the time but there is the issue of the size of his cock. He's simply too big for anything except anal sex; very few women can take him and very few women like anal. So he had looked elsewhere for sex, finding out that other men are more than happy to fuck him. Now he was with Reno who had skirted his fantasies for a long time, he was buried inside his partner's body and it felt oddly right. It's as if they are made for each other.

Rude looks down at Reno, the light from the hallway illuminating his skin, turning it paler and making the bruises stand out more than ever. His arms tremble as he adjusts to the intrusion, his eyes are heavily lidded but locked with Rude's as if they're waiting for some signal. The tension is almost palpable. Finally Rude shifts, forcing a sound from Reno's lips better than any angels song. Rude grunts, panting as he draws out slowly, the tension broken. He begins a slow, effortless rhythm that Reno matches with ease. Their eyes never deviate, they're locked together in a world only they can see. The only things on their minds are sensation and heat. It's painful, for Reno at least, painful but not at all bad. He's had plenty of bad sex before now but he's pretty sure this doesn't belong in that category despite the pain. Rude's bare chest shimmers and Reno wants to touch but Rude's bound his hands so he doesn't dare, he licks his lips, wondering what it would be like to get one of his partners nipple piercings between his teeth. He eyes the winding pattern of a sinuous dragon tattooed into Rude's side, black against the dark brown of his skin it seems to move over Rude's rippling muscles in a strange, hypnotic dance. It winds down his ribs, over the top of his thigh and Reno knows the tail flicks just beneath the curve of his ass. Only a flash of colour here and there, a bright crimson on its claws, on its teeth, as if it's just killed something. Reno wraps his legs around Rude's waist, blinking and returning his eyes to his partner. He licks his lips as Rude leans down and captures them, their tongues tangle, low groans filling the room as Rude continues his slow, easy pace. In and out. In and out. In and out.

"Way too broke..." Reno mutters, shaking his head, touching his forehead to Rude's with a deep frown. "...Broke an' a fuckin'...oh yeah...mass murderer...Rude..."

"Shh." Rude whispers, kissing Reno's throat and stroking soothing circles on his thighs. "I'll fix you."

Reno chokes on a sound that's somewhere between a sob and a moan. Rude begins to speed up slightly, the twisting heat in his gut urging him on. Reno swears, the sound sharp and distinct as the soft slapping of flesh. "Fuck me, Rude." Reno's eyes snap open, fire igniting his eyes which makes them almost glow like Cloud Strife's. He's frowning again now, hips trying to urge his partner on. His voice rising as Rude grabs his cock, releasing one leg to do so. He mutters nonsense into Reno's ear as their bodies move together on the sweaty sheets beneath them. Reno moans again, his teeth clenched. "More. Harder. Fucking faster!" Reno demands and Rude can't help but grin, that's his partner, that's the man he's known and worked with for ten years. "Hurry."

"Can't...not gunna last."

"Don't care." Reno leans up, slipping his bound hands around Rude's neck and pulling himself into his lap. The change of position makes him shudder violently, it feels too deep, almost unnatural but after a moment he starts moving again. Rude's hands glide around his waist, he looks up into Reno's eyes and they hold each others gazes. Rude leaning back on his heels, Reno riding him desperately, long red hair falling into his eyes and down his back. They clutch each other desperately, moans mingling in the dark bedroom. Rude's large hands grasp Reno's ass cheeks, holding him steady as they rock together, broken words drifting from panting lips, eyes half closed, bodies slick with sweat. Finally, after what seems to them to be an eternity, Rude groans, burying his face in Reno's neck. Reno feels his cock spasm and gasps, his own orgasm exploding in the pit of his stomach like fireworks. He shudders violently, eyes snapping shut as his body moves of its own accord.

Afterwards they collapse back onto the bed, their bodies aching pleasantly. Reno winces, looking down to see fresh blood staining his bandages, he's forgotten, temporarily, that he even had them. He puts a hand over his ribs, rolling over, away from Rude. There's silence for a while, Reno's free hand covering his eyes as he feels Rude's come sliding down his thighs. He'll have more bruises in the morning. A hand, calloused and large, runs slowly up his side. He feels hot breath against his cheek and Rude's heavy warmth at his back. "Reno?"

"Need a fuckin' drink, man." Reno mumbles in reply.

"No, you don't." Rude says, he doesn't leave room for argument on this. Reno's not drinking himself into an early grave if he can help it. "We've lost too many friends, Reno...don't make me lose you too." His fingers tighten suddenly on Reno's side, his voice cracking just enough for Reno to hear the emotion. Reno's eyes open, he stares across the room, still curled into a tight ball. He gazes through his fingers and Rude can feel him trembling.

"I can't do it." Reno whispers, his voice strange and shaky. There's emotion there Rude's never heard before. "I can't do the job."

"Reno-"

"I'll tell Tseng...I'll tell 'im I'm gunna quit."

"Reno."

"I'll put a bullet in my head." Reno laughs, the sound emotionless and a little insane. "I'll do it myself so you guys don' have ta, yeah? Jus' don' bury me. I don' wanna be worm food." He rolls over, looking at Rude who has a look on his face that is so open, so vulnerable it nearly breaks Reno even further. "Don'! Don' look at me like that, man! Don' make me feel guilty for this!" He looks away, frowning. "Maybe I'll jus' take the pills." He mutters, searching the floor for his shirt where he knows are two yellow pills, made especially for a Turk to escape in the most final way.

Rude rises up onto one elbow and grabs for Reno's wrist, missing by half a millimetre. "Reno!" He tries again, sitting up fully and grabbing his shoulder this time as Reno sits up, lifting his shirt sleeve and picking idly at the sealed pocket where the pills are stored.

"Din't they say tha' i's jus' like fallin' asleep, yo?" Reno has the pills in one shaking hand, he turns wide, terribly empty eyes on Rude who hisses in a sharp breath. "I'll jus'...drift away. Maybe tha's too merciful, huh? Maybe they'd rather I died worse." He hangs his head, hair obscuring his distraught face. "They won' le' me jus' leave, yo. You know tha'. If I go they'll send you or Elena or Tseng after me...I ain't gunna let ya have that on your hands. No' after Veld. No' after all tha' shit, man."

"You wanna just...die?" Rude mutters, his deep voice causing a shiver to run down Reno's spine. He can see he's shivering, as if it's cold in the room but it's not that. His shoulders shake, his hand grips the L-Pills tightly, he's broken. He's broken and tired and it's as if Reno's already died and left some vague impression in his place, some ghost-Reno that's all at once strange and familiar. This isn't like him and Rude's scared. For the second time in his life, he's shitting his pants.

"I wanna...escape." Reno's voice is less than a whisper. He continues to sit with his back to Rude, unable to look at him and see the pain and disappointment in his eyes. "How 'm I sposed ta live with what I did, yo? How 'm I sposed ta sleep with those people screamin' in my head? How am I supposed to go on knowin' I murdered thousands?! I's different...different when you're takin' out a single target, yo. When it's face to face, life or death it jus' feels...easier. What I did...fuck man, what I did was commit mass murder."

Rude's silent. The room's silent. Only their breathing can be heard, their breathing and the vague sounds of the city below seeping into their tiny, dark little world. "Then...don't do it for yourself." Rude says abruptly, straightening and shifting to Reno's side. He takes his hand, the one that clutches the pills and folds his huge hand around it. Reno's forced to look up into his eyes, Rude can see the strange way they sparkle, they're too wet and a little red around the edges but he's not sobbing, he's not completely broken...yet. "Live on for the ones that're still alive. Make amends. Dead men can't make up for their sins, Reno."

Slowly Reno swallows, he turns away, looking at the carpet and blinking a little too rapidly. "Make...amends?" He repeats to himself, voice soft and thoughtful.

"Yeah. Recover and we'll go get Strife, you'll be able to show him who's boss, right? And then we'll go on leave. Take a break."

Reno cocks his head a little, moving his eyes to Rude, and he sees it. He sees that glimmer and relief floods him in a wave. "Wutai." Reno mutters, a smile curling one corner of his lips. "The girls there are hot, yo."

"Wutai." Rude agrees, grinning. Rude slides a hand down the back of his partners neck and brings him to his lips again, Reno's eyes close and he lifts his arms, wrapping them around Rude's shoulders.

XXX

Reno runs when he gets the call. He barely manages to get his uniform on, his arm is still out of his sleeve, his shirt's unbuttoned to reveal his bandaged chest. He's wondering just what the hell happened, the alarms aren't going off, no ones even in the corridors as he races through them to the elevators. It feels like every soul in the building suddenly disappeared except for himself. He's scared. He's gotta admit it, he's confused and worried about his friends. When he reaches the reception area that leads to the presidents office he comes to a grinding halt. His eyes grow huge in his face and he swallows a lump that grows in his throat, he stands there, panting and stares mindlessly at the blood. Its everywhere. It looks as if someone has been picking up corpses and dragging them through the building, there's massive gashes in the walls, there's a dead woman behind her desk her blood congealing on some paper work. Reno swallows again. He knows this pattern. He's seen it before. He reaches over to some of those gouges, ripped right through the metal as if by giant claws, his fingers brush them. He flashes back to Junon, when they had been sent there by Heidegger, before Veld had blackmailed his way back in charge. He remembers walking through a building filled with so many corpses it was like witnessing a horror film and at the end of it all was Shotgun, white faced and shaking as she explained who had done it. "Shit. Shit. Shit! You're sposed ta be fuckin' dead, yo!" Reno gasps, eyes flicking up towards the stairs. The blood goes up there too. He follows it, not really sure why seeing as if its who he thinks it is then he doesn't stand a chance in hell against him. His main concern however is Rude, he'd been babysitting the president when they'd captured Strife and his gang sneaking in. If the monster got up there then Rude could be in trouble too.

He bursts through the doors, panting, clutching his EMR so tightly his knuckles are white. His eyes scan the room wildly, he sees the corpse first. That red suit is so bright it draws his eye like a moth to a flame. He blinks and then focusses on the others in the room. Standing before his father's body is Rufus ShinRa, arms folded across his chest and blond hair falling into those eerily cold grey eyes. Beside him is Tseng, speaking rapidly on his phone and finally Reno's eyes land on Rude. He feels relief hit him like a train and he stumbles, alerting the others to his presence. Rude's by his side before he can think straight, he feels that familiar hand on his arm as he's guided to the desk where he can lean. "...Is it..." Reno swallows, looking sharply from Tseng to Rude and back again. "Is it him?" He whispers, one arm gripping his wounds, his breathing heavy and sweat standing out on his forehead. He's as a white as a sheet, in a lot of pain and his knees are weak. He needs to sit down but he pushes Rude off of him when he attempts to guide him to a chair. "Well?!" He demands, his voice wavering as he snaps his head around to look at Rufus.

Rufus blinks slowly and looks at the Turks. "It's him." He says smoothly, no hint in his voice that even gives a fuck that his father's lying on the desk before him with a great big sword in his back. "That's his sword according to Cloud and his little gang." Rufus lifts a hand, sweeping hair from his eyes. He looks a little bruised, a little ruffled as if he had been doing some fighting but Reno's not even sure the kid can fight. "There's no doubt about it; Sephiroth is back."

Reno's breath halts in his lungs. His eyes widen and he turns to look at Tseng who nods sombrely, Rude shifts and Reno knows they're thinking the same thing. They'd both been in Nibelheim and seen what Sephiroth had done, they'd all seen the destruction of an entire town. All the work of a single man. His knees do give way then, he groans as Rude catches him before he can hit the floor. "Fuck!" He hisses, baring his teeth in agony. "We're...so...fucked..."

"No we're not." Rude assures him, lifting him and forcing him to sit down in a nearby chair. Reno lets his head fall back, hair half falling from its tail.

"No one even saw him, he hasn't turned up on any security footage." Tseng reveals as he hangs up his phone and glares at the corpse of the old president.

"No matter." Rufus says, turning to the Turks and giving them a hard look. "Can I trust you?"

Tseng glances at Reno and Rude before bowing formally. "You can, sir." Thick, dark hair sliding over his shoulders like a waterfall to obscure his face momentarily.

Rufus' smirk is cold and slightly intimidating. "Sephiroth has done us all a favour, Tseng. Without my father your department is perfectly safe, your lives are guaranteed. I have no intentions of throwing away such valuable resources as you very well know. Now, I want you to follow Cloud. I need to know exactly where he's going, what he's doing and anything else you can get me. I need to know his background."

Tseng shifts, eyes snapping to Reno and Rude as they all seem to share a silent communication. "Cloud Strife...his past is...complicated sir."

"I don't care. I must know who the enemy is and what his next move is."

"Sir. I recommend you speak to Hojo, he knows what happened better than anyone else." Tseng turns to Rude. "You and Elena will come with me. Reno, stay here and rest."

"But-"

"No. You're not fit to handle this." Tseng insists, eyes narrowing before Reno lowers his head, glaring at his boots.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Sir, what will you be doing while we're away? Who will protect you?"

Rufus shakes his head. "I have the entire army to protect me, Tseng. I don't need you to babysit me anymore. Now go, I have to speak with the heads of the other departments." He sighs, as if the thought annoys him. "I hate Heidegger." He mutters and strides to the door.

"Can he handle this, yo?" Reno asks as the door sighs shut behind the new young president.

"Of course he can." Tseng smirks. "This is what we've been preparing him for, after all."

"Still, it's a bit sudden." Reno grimaces, leaning back in the chair and he lifts his shirt to check the state of his wounds. "Shit." They had reopened during his mad dash through the building, blood now soaked through the bandages and he is shaking with the pain.

"I have faith in Rufus. Far more than I did his father." Tseng replies, shrugging a little and giving the corpse of the old president a cool look. "The man nearly destroyed us all." He mutters, his smirk widening just a tiny bit and Reno laughs. The sound strange and unnatural in such a place of death.

"Now he's the dead one, yo." Reno looks up, eyes glittering. "He never even knew."

"And he never will now." Tseng puts his PHS back in his pocket after texting Elena.

"Does that mean they're safe?" Rude asks suddenly, eyes darting from Reno to Tseng and back again.

"Safer than they were than when he was alive, yes."

"Thank the gods." Rude whispers, his own smile lifting his lips.

"Now, back to work. Rude, get Reno back home and make sure he doesn't kill himself before he can recover then prepare a chopper. We're heading out in three hours."

Rude stands, helping Reno to his feet. "Sir." He says and Tseng walks away. They follow not long after, neither of them willing to stay in that room, the corpse is starting to smell funny.

-Fin-

Bonus: Wutai

Wutai is different after the war. It's a holiday resort, little more than a collection of shops, tea houses, bars and Inns all catering to the influx of tourists. There's no more fire in the eyes of the people, it burned out after their defeat. Godo's shut himself away, grieving for his lost home while his daughter runs around with terrorists. It's tragic and Reno feels the absence of any real motivation in the denizens, he thinks its kind of a shame and another stab of guilt makes him shift uncomfortably. He works for the company that did this, that destroyed Wutai until it was a mere shadow of its former glory. A proud people forced to bow to a greater world power, it was sad.

"This place is tacky." Elena comments, idly tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear as she eyes a group of men trudging through the town. They look up and over at the newcomers, they spot their uniforms and their dark eyes narrow dangerously. "Why do I get the feeling we're not welcome here?"

"ShinRa." Reno replies, hands tucked into pockets, eyes scanning the people, noting who is giving them looks and who would be the biggest threat. There's a big guy shifting a huge crate by the item store, he looks over and wipes sweat from his wide brow with the back of one forearm. He's a brute but Rude could take him easily. There's an old woman, stepping out of her house, iron grey hair piled atop her head with extravagant pins and combs. She pauses, giving them a long, hard stare. Reno returns it until she finally looks away and moves on, followed by a cat at her heels.

"I'm thirsty, let's go to Turtles Paradise. Heard the drinks good." Rude suggests, putting one hand on Reno's shoulder and guiding him down the path towards the bar.

The bar is, at least, a little more friendly if only because of the fact that they have money. They sit in silence a while, Reno sipping rice wine as he lazily looks around. He's slumped low in his seat, fingers tapping a rhythm on the table as the few other patrons sit nervously around them, as if waiting for the Turks to start shooting the place up.

Reno is happy to admit that it isn't the best vacation he's ever had. It was ruined the second Elena started shooting her mouth off at Cloud, then ruined further by the fact that she got herself caught by Don Corneo of all people. Reno kept his derisive curses to himself as he searched the statue of Dao Chao with Rude at his side, he hates rookies for this very reason. Always over eager, always too big for their boots and never knowing when to keep their damned mouths shut and sit down. When they found Don Corneo, cornered by Cloud and a few of his gang Reno was impressed as they fought and killed one of Don's pets before moving in on him. Reno decided it was his turn to take the spotlight.

"Now, give me your women too! Ha, ha, ha, ha! I guess I'm the one laughing last!"

Reno smirks to himself, "No, that'd be us, yo."

"Hee-haw. What... what's goin' on!? Who's there? The Turks!" Reno steps out onto Dao Chao's thumb, stands as casually as he possibly could and stares down into Corneo's fat, ugly face. "Ya knew this would happen the minute ya leaked that secret, yo. We're gunna take care o' you...personally." "Damn it! Then they're all going with me!" Rude's fast as he steps easily from his hiding place behind Dao Chao's head, he throws a tiny dart at Corneo who staggers backwards with a grunt. Reno watches, his face a picture of cool detachment as Corneo falls, only just grabbing hold of the edge of the statues finger. Reno moves forward slowly, every stride easy as if he has all the time in the world. "Good timing, partner." Reno says, flashing a smile in Rude's direction and seeing him lift a hand in acknowledgement. "Let's get to work." Reno says, knowing his vacation's over for now and feeling a stirring of that familiar excitement. For a while he had forgotten how much he loves his job, he smiles nastily down at the fat man and lifts his foot, stepping firmly on his fingers, but not firmly enough to really hurt...not yet. He bends his knee, resting one arm across it as he looks down into Corneo's terrified face. One hand remains in his pocket. "All right, Corneo. This'll be over quick, so listen up. Why d'you think we went to all the trouble of teaming up with those guys to get you...? One: Because we were ready to die. Two: Because we were sure of victory. Three: Because we were clueless?" "Two... Number two?" "All wrong, yo." Reno's smirk widens almost imperceptibly as he grinds his boot heel into Corneo's fingers. The familiar thrill going down his spine as he watches the terror in the man's round, sweating face. "No...! Wait, sto-!" Reno releases Corneo's fingers, drawing away. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

His scream follows him all the way down and Reno can't help but lean forward just to watch as he hits the rocks far below. He turns away finally, adjusting his flight goggles perched on his head before taking a look at his surroundings. "The correct answer was..." He paused, smirking still as he put his hands back in his pockets. "Because it's our job."

Reno's eyes meet Rude's and he sees his partner smirk, knowing he was back on form once again.