{ you're so cold, keep your hand in mine }
Who: Kunsel Reinhardt
When: Five years ago.
Location: Kunsel's home, Midgar, upper Plate level.
Rating: PG-13 for tough stuff and blood.
Summary: Major backlogging. Kunsel reacts to Sion's death.
The blood wouldn't wash off his hands.
It was dried in places, caked to his skin. It was under his nails and spattered up his arms, splashed across his chest and soaked into the fabric of his uniform. And it was cold. The blood was cold against his skin where it had not yet dried, cold like Sion's hands had been when Kunsel had tried to hold them. The water was turned so hot it was scalding, and Kunsel's tear and blood streaked face was beginning to disappear behind the curtain of rising steam but still he couldn't get the shaking to stop. The cold was inside of him, and he felt frozen to the core. Was he even here? Maybe he was just dreaming this terrible nightmare, and he was really quietly bleeding to death out on the field with everyone else. Maybe he would wake from this at any moment and be back where he belonged.
Everyone in the squad was dead. Every SOLDIER on that mission roster was dead, and Kunsel would have been among them had his father not had his name stripped from the record. Even though that had tipped him off that there was something wrong with this mission, even after all these years knowing how ShinRa ran, knowing the things his father did for the company, still, somehow, Kunsel had never allowed himself to believe that the company would send its own SOLDIERs to die for nothing more than asking a few too many questions and thinking for themselves a bit too much.
They had all been good men. Kunsel had known every one of them, had known about their families, had known of their dreams. He knew that they all loved being a part of SOLDIER, as he once had, and questioned the company only because it was important to them. Sion most of all had gone in knowing the mission wasn't right. Kunsel had gone to him before the squad shipped out to tell him about Dr. Reinhardt removing his son's name from the mission roster when the man's usual idea of fatherhood was to have his secretary send a nice note congratulating Kunsel on his promotion to Second Class three weeks late.
"Don't go--" Kunsel warned his friend as he watched Sion shoulder his sword and turn away.
"Don't go--" Kunsel begged, choking on his breath as he tried to staunch the wound, feeling blood soak through his gloves and seep between his fingers.
Coughing as he felt his stomach lurch at the all too fresh memories, Kunsel squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember how to breathe, hands clumsily scrubbing beneath the running water all the while. He had to get the blood off. He had to wash his clothes and shower and pretend he had never been there. ShinRa couldn't know he had gone, or even his father couldn't save him again. And if he died, Sion would... Kunsel let out a quiet, shaken laugh, bringing his wet hand to his face, dragging his hair away from his eyes. Scion would never talk to him again either way, would he? But Kunsel couldn't waste the life Sion had given--thrown--away to save him.
And besides. Besides. Zack was still out there somewhere. Zack needed Kunsel to hold on. To his life, to sanity, to hope. Zack needed someone to come home to, and Kunsel was going to be here. Even though everyone else was gone, Kunsel would still be here. So he had to get the blood off, had to go home and pretend that he didn't know his friends had been slaughtered. Kunsel had gone anyway, even though his name had been taken off. He had sneaked out, did half the traveling by foot and hitched rides for the rest. He wanted to help for all the same reasons Sion had gone. To save their friends. Because if, by being there, they helped the squad's odds at all, that was enough.
There was something wrong about the mission. Both Kunsel and Sion had gone in knowing that. They just had no idea of how wrong.
It was a trap. It was a trap in every sense of the word. There were three times as many hostile units as their mission briefing had told them to expect, meaning there were three times as many men as their team of five SOLDIERs was intended to be able to handle. The enemies also seemed to know SOLDIER protocol intimately, and they were armed with some of ShinRa's newest toys. Their squad never even stood a chance, but somehow--
Sion had been a monster. The betrayal by ShinRa enraged him in such a way that there was no standing against him. Every time one of theirs fell, Sion's rage grew. Kunsel arrived only to see the second half of the carnage, the enemy troop's numbers dwindling, three of their SOLDIERs still standing. There were two by the time Kunsel managed to take in the scene and only one by the time he managed to get close enough to join it.
"God dammit, Sai! We can't win this! Stop fighting and let's go!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! They're not getting away with this, they're--"
SOLDIER. Second Class. With no ambitions to go for First, that was all Kunsel was. He never even saw the hit coming before Sion was between them. Shotgun blast to the chest. Sion's threw his sword even as he was struck and the blade near cleaved the shooter in half when it hit him, but that was all Sion had left.
"Sion, don't do this to me, c'mon-- We-- Mom was gonna make us dinner Saturday, remember? This isn't-- You're not First Class yet, so get... get up--"
"State your name and rank."
"...Kunsel Reinhardt, Second Class, sir!"
The blood wouldn't wash off. There was too much of it, there was just too much, all over him. There was no way to hide where he had been, what he had done. But he had to. He had to for Zack. Who knew where Zack was or how he would be when he got out. He'd need a friend. He deserved a friend. He deserved more than to come back after enduring all these years only to find everyone gone. So Kunsel had to. Before anyone saw, he had to.
He had to.
He--
Kunsel sank down against the sink and buried his face into his hands to cry, letting the running water drown out the sound.
When: Five years ago.
Location: Kunsel's home, Midgar, upper Plate level.
Rating: PG-13 for tough stuff and blood.
Summary: Major backlogging. Kunsel reacts to Sion's death.
The blood wouldn't wash off his hands.
It was dried in places, caked to his skin. It was under his nails and spattered up his arms, splashed across his chest and soaked into the fabric of his uniform. And it was cold. The blood was cold against his skin where it had not yet dried, cold like Sion's hands had been when Kunsel had tried to hold them. The water was turned so hot it was scalding, and Kunsel's tear and blood streaked face was beginning to disappear behind the curtain of rising steam but still he couldn't get the shaking to stop. The cold was inside of him, and he felt frozen to the core. Was he even here? Maybe he was just dreaming this terrible nightmare, and he was really quietly bleeding to death out on the field with everyone else. Maybe he would wake from this at any moment and be back where he belonged.
Everyone in the squad was dead. Every SOLDIER on that mission roster was dead, and Kunsel would have been among them had his father not had his name stripped from the record. Even though that had tipped him off that there was something wrong with this mission, even after all these years knowing how ShinRa ran, knowing the things his father did for the company, still, somehow, Kunsel had never allowed himself to believe that the company would send its own SOLDIERs to die for nothing more than asking a few too many questions and thinking for themselves a bit too much.
They had all been good men. Kunsel had known every one of them, had known about their families, had known of their dreams. He knew that they all loved being a part of SOLDIER, as he once had, and questioned the company only because it was important to them. Sion most of all had gone in knowing the mission wasn't right. Kunsel had gone to him before the squad shipped out to tell him about Dr. Reinhardt removing his son's name from the mission roster when the man's usual idea of fatherhood was to have his secretary send a nice note congratulating Kunsel on his promotion to Second Class three weeks late.
"Don't go--" Kunsel warned his friend as he watched Sion shoulder his sword and turn away.
"Don't go--" Kunsel begged, choking on his breath as he tried to staunch the wound, feeling blood soak through his gloves and seep between his fingers.
Coughing as he felt his stomach lurch at the all too fresh memories, Kunsel squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember how to breathe, hands clumsily scrubbing beneath the running water all the while. He had to get the blood off. He had to wash his clothes and shower and pretend he had never been there. ShinRa couldn't know he had gone, or even his father couldn't save him again. And if he died, Sion would... Kunsel let out a quiet, shaken laugh, bringing his wet hand to his face, dragging his hair away from his eyes. Scion would never talk to him again either way, would he? But Kunsel couldn't waste the life Sion had given--thrown--away to save him.
And besides. Besides. Zack was still out there somewhere. Zack needed Kunsel to hold on. To his life, to sanity, to hope. Zack needed someone to come home to, and Kunsel was going to be here. Even though everyone else was gone, Kunsel would still be here. So he had to get the blood off, had to go home and pretend that he didn't know his friends had been slaughtered. Kunsel had gone anyway, even though his name had been taken off. He had sneaked out, did half the traveling by foot and hitched rides for the rest. He wanted to help for all the same reasons Sion had gone. To save their friends. Because if, by being there, they helped the squad's odds at all, that was enough.
There was something wrong about the mission. Both Kunsel and Sion had gone in knowing that. They just had no idea of how wrong.
It was a trap. It was a trap in every sense of the word. There were three times as many hostile units as their mission briefing had told them to expect, meaning there were three times as many men as their team of five SOLDIERs was intended to be able to handle. The enemies also seemed to know SOLDIER protocol intimately, and they were armed with some of ShinRa's newest toys. Their squad never even stood a chance, but somehow--
Sion had been a monster. The betrayal by ShinRa enraged him in such a way that there was no standing against him. Every time one of theirs fell, Sion's rage grew. Kunsel arrived only to see the second half of the carnage, the enemy troop's numbers dwindling, three of their SOLDIERs still standing. There were two by the time Kunsel managed to take in the scene and only one by the time he managed to get close enough to join it.
"God dammit, Sai! We can't win this! Stop fighting and let's go!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! They're not getting away with this, they're--"
SOLDIER. Second Class. With no ambitions to go for First, that was all Kunsel was. He never even saw the hit coming before Sion was between them. Shotgun blast to the chest. Sion's threw his sword even as he was struck and the blade near cleaved the shooter in half when it hit him, but that was all Sion had left.
"Sion, don't do this to me, c'mon-- We-- Mom was gonna make us dinner Saturday, remember? This isn't-- You're not First Class yet, so get... get up--"
"State your name and rank."
"...Kunsel Reinhardt, Second Class, sir!"
The blood wouldn't wash off. There was too much of it, there was just too much, all over him. There was no way to hide where he had been, what he had done. But he had to. He had to for Zack. Who knew where Zack was or how he would be when he got out. He'd need a friend. He deserved a friend. He deserved more than to come back after enduring all these years only to find everyone gone. So Kunsel had to. Before anyone saw, he had to.
He had to.
He--
Kunsel sank down against the sink and buried his face into his hands to cry, letting the running water drown out the sound.