I really hate Square Enix for producing one FFVII product after another – how on earth am I supposed to write an accurate story if new information keeps coming in every few months?! Anyway, with the release of the novels I now know who saved Tseng. And that maybe, just maybe, RENO IS GAY (ARRRRGH! THE HORROR.) But thank you, Square Enix. You really like consuming my time and money. Oh, and what was up with that Lifestream black shindig?! You made Sephiroth sound like a gay guy. Ew.
This is what happened after the incidents of C'est La Vie and before The Footsteps of Life. There are the actual series of On the way to a Smile written by the scenario writer of the FFVII AC, with the stories of Tifa, Denzel, Red, Turks, Cloud, Aeris/Sephiroth, Barrett, and Yuffie. THe Aeris/Sephiroth version is available online at /ffvii-advent-children-complete/3881/on-the-way-to-a-smile-lifestream-black-and-lifestream-white/#more-3881. Be warned; to me it screamed of Clephiroth.
No spoilers. So rest assured.
On the Way to a Smile - Reno
Chapter I
Reno stared at the ground as someone spat and walked away. His vision caught a small child lying on the ground, face down, probably dead. He did not care. He really wasn't up for a fight of any kind; his every fiber ached and screamed that it was tired and couldn't take it anymore. And his mind said that as well. Rebuilding the world seemed impossible. And so seemed himself. He guessed he really deserved it. People's lives were in one, huge, conjointed mess, and that was partly because of him. Oh no, he wasn't the cause of it, but he certainly was one of the wheels that made the motion carry forth.
It had been three days since the Meteor fell, and the world – and his life – had suddenly tumbled down precariously from its fragile balance and lay at his feet in pieces. His girlfriend, Arien DeVir, lay comatose in bed, suffering from severe burns and back injuries. Nobody knew what was going on, and the justice seemed to have an irony in meting out punishment. Now, when Shinra was fragile and defenseless, people seemed to blame everything to them. And rightly so, perhaps; it was they who had dropped the sector plate, they who had raised Sephiroth.
It was all their fault.
Reno looked up. Turned. And started to walk back.
Arien DeVir lay in bed. Or her body. Reno stood, leaning onto the doorframe, fatigued and not wishing to see her, yet compelled to do so. She had protected Rufus when the building was crumbling down, saving him at her own cost. Her eyes remained closed, but he knew what colour lay behind her lids – blue-green with a hint of grey. She looked innocent and virginal in the bed, unmoving, unaware. Her long hair fanned onto the white sheets.
He moved closer and sat down on the bed gingerly, as if trying not to wake her up. Which was a futile gesture – nothing could wake her up from her deep sleep. She was smiling as if she was happy.
"Arien…"
He grasped her hand, squeezed it hard. Both of their hands were slender, but his were a little more bony, fingers slightly thicker and his knuckles and joints slightly larger. Both their nails were cleanly trimmed – well, not Arien's, not now. Handling explosives required deft fingers and neatly trimmed nails, but Arien's, untrimmed for a few days now, and were growing.
He wondered if he could go on like this, her comatose, his life in pieces, his president incapacitated and nobody knowing what to do.
No.
He could face this with someone else. Not Rufus, not Elena, not Tseng. Maybe Rude. But Rude was busy taking care of other things. He couldn't bother his partner – they were both busy, and both of them sported injuries that weren't fully healed yet.
He grasped her hands again. Hard. As if he was holding her hands in prayer.
"Arien…"
He felt cold. He had never felt so cold, so alone.
"Is Arien up yet?"
The redhead shook his head, and Elena felt a tinge of pain. Reno looked so tired, so desolate, that every time he came out of her bedroom he looked ten years older. That youthful, cheerful, devil-may-care Reno's face had not changed. An unwary onlooker would have said that he had not changed. But Elena sensed a slight change in him – he seemed somewhere else, as if his thoughts were not here. There was loss in his eyes – everything he had worked for, every pain that he had sacrificed, was gone. Elena knew that despite Reno's façade, he felt guilt and pain the same way everyone else did when he had to kill. Just like his lover, his dreams were coloured in blood and tears, silent screams that he could not get out. But still, being a Turk had its rewards. Money, position, and for Reno, a person. But they were all gone.
"Come on, Reno. Sit down."
"Nah, I'm fine." He shook his head. "It's not like I'm dead."
No you aren't, but you sure act like it, Elena thought grimly. Reno walked away, hands in pockets, whistling nonchalantly. Elena turned, walking into Rufus's room. Tseng and Rufus were talking – Tseng had made a miraculous comeback which accidentally made Elena hug in on impulse and made Reno blurt out that he wanted to do the same. She smiled as she remembered Tseng's thankful response that he'd rather do without the experience.
Darkness. It was not terrifying. It had a friendly face for her, a gentle one, the one that gave her respite and soothing dreams. Arien floated in it, smiling, comfortable.
Then suddenly she was aware that she was standing on the bank of the river. The river rushed by her feet in torrents and gush, threatening to draw her in and take her away. She did not care. She stepped one step further. The water was cold and threatening, as if to drag her feet. It swirled around her ankles, spraying against her shin, tiny droplets of water decorating her legs.
Should she let go?
"Yes," she said out loud. But it felt as if something, just something was wrong. As if there was a reason why she should not let go. She rubbed her hand – why was it so painful? And what was that severe pressure on her fingers?
A hand was grasping her own. A slender hand. A man's hand. And a voice that called her name, softly, yet so clearly. The voice was pleading, hopeful, and yet forlorn, as if the caller was hoping for the impossible, clinging onto that last sliver of hope.
She knew the voice. Not in that tone, no. But in a voice that was cheerful, in a voice that was angry, in a voice that had lost all its senses, in a voice that had lost all reason. The way the voice elongated the A, a strong accent on the first syllable.
There was a reason she could not just let go. She had someone to return to, someone to live for. With tremendous effort she turned – the water current seemed stronger than ever – and placed her left foot onto the bank. Suddenly the water current seemed stronger, as if discouraging her from going back.
"Arien…"
Thousand rays of pincers attacked her eyes. She opened her eyes gingerly, and winced as the light attacked her vision and threatened to pierce her brain. She winced, and a face swam into her vision. A beautiful face, boyish, framed with red mane. The face had red crescent on each cheek, and the eyes were cat-like, slanted. Aquamarine. Small nose, slightly thin lips. Except usually the face was mischievous and cheerful; now, it was lined with worry and fear and… anxiety.
"Are ya okay, yo?"
Arien wanted to touch his face, but to her dismay she could not raise her arms. She tried moving her legs; they would not move either. Panic seemed to have crossed her face, because Reno's expression changed. Her mouth tasted sour, and she was sweating.
"Reno…" she whimpered. "I can't move. I can't move!"
"Relax, relax." His hand touched her forehead. His voice had not changed, and it was oddly comforting and soothing on her nerves. She felt no pain on her face; it was odd, since the last thing she felt was searing pain, a burning pain. Somebody had extensively cast Cure3 on her. She sensed it was not a physician. She wondered who it was, but Reno was saying something, and that interrupted her train of thoughts. "It's not permanent. You'll be fine."
"What…?" She looked around. "Who cast Cure on me?"
"I did," he replied, a sly smile on his face. "I can stand you not being able to move, but your bloated face I couldn't. You looked damn ugly."
"Thank you for your endless love," she replied weakly, but she could not help smiling. Reno was here, and that was all she needed. Reno. She knew she had lost her position, her wealth, her job – hell, did it matter? – but she had him. And that was all that she needed. She felt no change within herself, but with him, she felt that she could withstand any challenge the planet might throw against her, any obstacle that came hurtling toward her. His cheerfulness, his endurance was something that she relied upon when she was upset, angry, or disturbed.
She looked around some more; she had no idea where she was; it looked like The Healin Lodge, but that was Rufus' villa. So why was she there? Was Rufus alright? Tseng? Thousand questions whirled in her head so quickly she almost felt dizzy. She gazed back at her boyfriend again; Reno's shirt was still unbuttoned, and she saw a bandaged abdomen from the folds of the cloth. She saw no one else around. A rush of cold fear of losing him washed over her, making her sweat more.
If it was any other woman, she would have cried. But Arien was Arien, and a cold wave of fury washed over her.
"Renaldo Miller!" She shouted. "Why did you do that? Why!"
"Do what?"
"Your… your… wounds," she whispered. "You should have healed yourself rather than me, Reno! You idiot!"
"I told you, I couldn't stand your bloated face. It looked positively hideous. I'll be fine. It was a small scratch." He winked. "You look loads better. I can almost feel turned on."
"Yes, because small scratches need yards and yards of bandage," she retorted, trying to blink back her tears. "You are the dumbest person I have ever seen! First you try to rescue me in the fire…"
"Aren't you thankful for that?"
"Now you cast Cure on me for something frivolous when you should have cast it on yourself! Didn't anyone teach you common sense? What if you died? How am I supposed to li…" she shut up, seeing Reno grin triumphantly. Yes, she wanted to scream; I need you. I need you alive. For if you were dead, how am I supposed to live?
"You need me, huh?" he asked slyly.
"Shut up." She turned away, wishing that she could say what she felt. Then, "What happened?"
"Well… when Meteor fell, you tried to protect Rufus." He sat down on the bed. She smelled the fragrance of cigarettes and cologne from the black button-down shirt he was wearing. A silver chain hung around his neck – an identical ring to the one on her finger was attached to it. The bond of blood, the bond of silver. The blood of her virginity, the blood of his sacrifice, all expressed with such a simple band. "I came and… got you from the fire."
"Thank you," she whispered. "Are you alright?"
Reno remembered the searing heat, the icy wave of terror that gnawed at his brain, the fear of losing her. Running blindly into the fire, searching for any remains of her, anything. Finding her, her face almost unrecognizable with the fire and the blisters, Arien moaning in pain, Rufus almost unharmed underneath. Her hand, somehow undamaged, and the ring on her finger, a soothing blue light in the red inferno. Reno grinned a little. She was alive. She was awake. He did not care if she was paralyzed, now or forever, as far as she could smile at him, talk to him. "You should worry 'bout yourself," he taunted. "Yah, I'm perfectly fine, yo."
"Rufus?" Trust Arien to think of the president right away. Well, maybe that was warranted; she had nearly given up her life for him.
"He's… in the next room," he gestured vaguely. "He's sleeping."
"Oh."
They were silent for a while. Then Arien asked, "How long am I going to be… like this?"
Reno looked into her eyes. In her eyes he saw fear, but also hope. "Couple of weeks," he replied gently, not sure if he was telling the truth. Who cared? He did not; she was here, she was alive, and that was all that mattered. "Couple of weeks."