Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN FINAL FANTASY VII. This story was not made for profit in any way, shape, or form.

That being said, please enjoy!

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The hallway was quiet.

The air empty of the screams and gunshots that had, just briefly, filled it and overflowed. The silence was heavy with the stink of death, that silence just after a storm where everything was still, afraid it may come back and ravage the land again.

One sound.

One steady, slow drip. Plink. Plink. It started, echoing faintly in the long, lonely hallway. Water? Who knew, it didn't sound quite... so right.

Plink. Plink.

Something moved in the lifeless hallway, something barely clinging to consciousness, animation.

The blood continued to drip, rousing that body, shallow breaths pumped back and forth into lungs ravaged by fire and smoke. Red stained the walls; smeared and splattered, showing the timeline of the storm that had torn through the quiet, death filled place.

More breathing, getting stronger, but not… there was a gurgle, soft and slow sounding.

The man had seen better days. His arms were burnt, the cloth, the skin up to his elbows ripped or fried away, long gashes etched deep into the bare flesh. Blood soaked the once spotless white shirt, untucked over the uniform the man wore, had always worn since taking his job. Legs bent at an odd angle, the bone snapped like twigs inside them. His ribs were broken, but not quite puncturing his lungs, but it made each and every breath a living hell.

The man was dying, and he knew it.

Quickly...

Turks were never late.

They were always where they needed to be, when they needed to be, no matter what time it was. They were on time for the situation, to finish the job, to go that extra effort to put on a good show for the crowd that would never cheer for them.

Cissnei was a Turk.

Therefore, she was never late.

But this time, she was.

Her team didn't get to the warehouse until after they got the message about the bust going south, when they should have been waiting on the scene. They were held up in another part of the city, unable to get control of the situation in time. But now, they were there, and they swarmed the building like a plague of insects, covering every inch in search of their fellow Turks.

Cissnei followed the fresh smell of blood up the stairs, giving a quick look to each body she found, searching for just one in particular.

Breathing. Off in the corner. Labored, but enough to still be alive.

Slowly, she approached the mangled figure on the floor, not realizing who she was seeing until...

"Reno..."

The blood coated him, making it difficult to recognize him, mostly due to the color seeping into his hair and merging. Reno turned eyes to her, off focus and blurred, not really seeing much of anything except shadows and shapes.

A slow breath was taken in, gurgling more than ever, as he opened his lips and tried to speak. "Sss.... Ciss..."

Despair overwhelmed him. Of all the people to show up, Cissnei was the last one he wanted to see in this state. Cissnei... did she ever know that- a chunk of something got lodged in his throat, and his body wracked with coughing until he managed to control himself. There was so much pain, he was practically numb to it, everything screaming at him from all sides.

"Cissnei, don't..." He whispered, twitching some fingers in her direction. What fingers he could twitch, at least. "Don't."

He had failed. Failed his mission… his life. He could see it in front of his eyes now, and he... he wasn't happy with it. It was too sad, too many missed opportunities, too many things loved and lost and never gained again. And Cissnei...

He was angry this was happening, he wasn't ready to go, he wasn't ready to die. He wanted to stay and do what he could, do what he was supposed to. Instead, he was a broken, bloody body, that couldn't even feel hot or cold anymore, or know that he couldn't even walk for want of bones. The face he wore, a blood stained mask, slashed almost beyond recognition, deep cuts like the ones on his arms.

"I..." Her weapon clattered to the floor, useless when its master couldn't even find the strength to hold it anymore. Seeing him like this... broken, defeated... she was almost sick.

They had been trained to handle anything they could come across in the field. Monsters didn't bother her, nor did the rotting corpses of the fallen that decorated the room like macabre art pieces, some with eyes still wide in the throes of death.

Women were given no quarter during those sessions in the training rooms either. They were shown countless images that would make even the most stable of person break on the very edge of madness.

Why couldn't she stomach this?

Cissnei fell to her knees beside him, wanting to reach out and help him, but not even knowing where she would start. What could be done for him? Could she even offer comfort?

Her small hand reached out to touch one of his blood-soaked hands, "I'm... I'm not going to leave."

Useless. That's all she was reduced to in this single moment. His reaction was to jerk back in pain, the skin raw and unable to deal with that pain. What skin she could see was quickly growing pale, bloodless. There was so much blood...

"Cissnei, I'm not going to make it... d-... don't have to see." He replied, wishing she would leave, go anywhere but here. His heart ached for her to stay, but he knew he must have looked bad, judging from her soft gasp.

He didn't want her to see him like this. He wanted her to remember him as he had been, strong and sure of himself, and not a failure.

"Tell the others... good job..." His voice was getting softer, harsher, the blood in his lungs collection. The blood was soaking into her pants, all the way up to her thigh, and it was then that she noticed she was kneeling in his blood.

But what did that matter now?

"Reno, don't strain... just... you'll make it. They're coming with a medical team, and they'll fix you." Everything out of her mouth was a lie, but was she lying only to him, or to herself?

She wanted more than anything for him to live through this. To come into the office and tell her about his night at the bars, or even the wild times he had with his latest fling. Anything, so long as he was alive to tell it.

There were so many things to tell. Reno closed his eyes, the light giving him a headache on top of it all. He felt lighter, all of a sudden, like he could get up and float even if he was broken in several pieces.

"Fix me...? I feel better already... Cissnei."

There wasn't any pain at all now, even in his chest while he breathed. The slashes, the broken bones, he couldn't feel any of it, not even the numb... it was like, he was floating in a pool of water.

"We'll... go on a mission again, right? Like old times..." He whispered to the air, feeling wind coming from somewhere, giving him a direction.

"Cissnei."

The next breath was so hard to take, it felt like he was fighting against a current trying to take it away... the gurgling more of a rattle than anything else now, and soon he just... gave up. Too hard... it was nicer...

Floating...

floating?

"Cissnei! I..." He didn't know if she could hear him anymore. Love you.

"Just like old times... and you'll be better than ever." Another lie. Why was it so easy for her to just lie to him? To try and pretend he'd be okay.

The blood in her clothes made her feel heavy. Heavy with what, though? Guilt? That she couldn't be there in time... couldn't even save him.

She saw his rapid descent into death, heard his ramblings, and did her best to keep up with him. Why weren't the medics up here? Why weren't they fixing him? Turks don't die like this. They don't slowly seep away into nothingness like being caught in a current; they went out in blazes of glory, fighting until the end. So, this couldn't be him dying, right? Maybe he was just going to rest.

But... the rattling. The breath in his lungs making one final attempt to escape. It vibrated her bones like nothing else.

"Stay awake!" She lurched forward, wiping the blood off his face in a panic, "Don't sleep..."

Whatever he said would be lost.

Floating...