Drabble. Angst warning. (of course)
Rufus tries to kill himself.
((Unedited and will likely be tweaked tomorrow, but here she be!))
YEAR OF HELL TIMELINE
Dec (early): Mum dies
Dec (late): Rufus deals
Jan (early-mid): Seph + dad dies
FEB-APR: actiontime (RENO)
May (early): Guppies
Jun: DECEPTIVELY FREE (GLORIA)
July (early): Bellson (Grey I)
July (late): Precollapse (megalog)
AUG-SEP: actiontime (Elena)
Oct (early): Grey II, Collapse
Nov: Recovery
Dec: Dance
*********************************************************
Steady. The pace ever increasing until he was all but shackled to his desk, the work increased. More time spent off the field to shuffle paper and assignments. Now looking after both Turk agendas (Reno given full status and partnered with Rude, no longer just an ear on the street but a full Turk) but also to the files department heads sent him instead of Rufus, matters for a Turk to settle that would free Rufus for but an instant before something he could not resolve came to the man. August saw him meeting Rufus every night- to report and discuss and force the man to eat and drink and stop and breathe and pause and, when all else failed, be fucked into the nearest surface and collapse from exhaustion when his body gained the upper hand over a tightly controlling mind. Tseng thinks idly that it can’t be healthy. Rufus promises him he will try. Tseng promises himself he will ensure it.
More balance- a loss of two more Turks means Reno is given more field work, and missions are split now into groups of two more often than four. He chafes at that small concession to their enemies but these are his men and capable. He asks Grey to complete Gloria’s training before she is brought fully onboard. She’s talented and willing but he dislikes her attitude (reason to join petty and foolish but competence is needed) as much as he enjoys her strength of will. September finds him ordering more death but far more subtleties. Where cards on a pillow do not work, more specific messages are sent. Children (he is not above killing a child and he does not pray but he knows it will be a dark day when he orders the death of a child) and family make easy messengers and suitable threats. Two offices- one on the 68th, one in the basement. It had never been an issue but now he was finding it difficult to switch between the two- reports piled in brown folders with an embossed logo. Bleed for the company but she never bleeds in return. Instead the onus is on Rufus and himself. To make any, every sacrifice worthwhile. He hesitates- but accepts Elena. Uncertain of her mind (Skills could never be questioned) because she graduates from the same institution (aptly named) as he and he can only suspect what state she may join them in- but his own years there have caused change, followed by the work Rufus has done, and the young woman is competent- if carrying a pronounced tendency to blush. September sees him meeting Rufus every second day, reporting, dragging the chess board out and forcing a game that spans weeks instead of hours as they spar and discuss and fight. (Eatsleepdrink).
October and Gloria is hurt, while attacks come in from every side. Kyo is the only Turk who abandoned and was not dealt with- he’d disappeared and they had been forced to remain and wait. Now he returned with a vengeance and targeted the Turks themselves. Lain’s sister is given a very highly guarded vacation. Gun’s uncle is told to ‘lie low’ and given a bank account only Gun has access to. Protections made but nothing can stop him from attacking Tseng’s men directly. Gloria hurt and Grey (last of the last of the older generation, almost 37 and almost too old (Shinra) to be of use but still competent and capable and angry and stupid) runs, half cocked, into a battle he can not win and they dump him (broken bleeding destroyed) at Shinra’s doorstep as a slap in the face and a final reminder that they are all, failingly, human. October and he tries to see Rufus once a week, at least. They don’t bother much with discussion. Both needing the exhaustion and the darkness of a few hours of sleep-not-rest before one or the other awakes and the cycle begins again.
memento mori
A vigil at a broken body’s side, he waits for the man to awake. For last words and last rights. Because as Grey had sworn he had sworn in return and Semper Fidelis is far more than a motto or belief.
He listens. To the beep of a small machine dispensing morphine through an IV and ignores the crawl of his skin at the thought. He breathes, and it’s the smell of burnt flesh and harsh cleanser that fills his nose, cloying and bitter and enough to gag upon if he’d eaten, but he hasn’t. Food is sawdust in his mouth and his throat is dry, has been dry for days. Weeks. He’s become a hypocrite because sleep and food seem almost unnecessary when he realizes the moments stolen may mean life or death for another.
Grey looks as his namesake, ashen against linen and bandages. Eyes milky white and wet, unseeing. Never seeing again. He knows Tseng is here by presence, footsteps, scent, and remains silent when he awakes and the man sits beside him. He knew. Doctors knew better than to be hopeful for a Turk. It was a miracle he was still alive, after all.
A hand, frail looking but still strong rose in search and Tseng gripped it dutifully. He understood the overwhelming fear the surrounding darkness created, the uncertainty, the need to be grounded. But his own dance with shadows had lasted a mere month. An excruciating thirty days, living on a ‘maybe’ and ‘perhaps’, but the chance, and so the constant struggle to regain what was lost continued, and in the end the bandages had been peeled away and he had blinked into concerned, controlled blue eyes, and the world was right again.
It would never be right for Grey again.
Words were spoken that had little meaning, needed to be said, but then silence fell between them again and, eyes still staring unblinking at the ceiling, the other man finally relaxed against the bed, lines of tension falling from his face and body, erasing the years that had been prematurely gained. He released Tseng’s hand and his hands returned to the bed, tugging lightly at the linen. Tseng reached into his pocket and removed a syringe, ignoring his internal shudder of revulsion. This was duty. Semper fi.
There was no heart monitor to stop and scream dramatically; only a man far older than his years slowly watching a chest rise, and fall, rise, and fall, then rise no more. When he left the room, it was emptier than when he arrived, and the nurses did not even have a last name for their paperwork.
He wanted to get drunk. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch and spar until his knuckles were bloody. He wanted to kill those who had done this. Those who could ever do this to any of his men. Destroy them all.
Instead he took a moment (precious moment) and inquired Gloria’s condition (To be released tomorrow, no heavy work for the next several weeks) and her eyes are red-but-not-wet and her face set in a mulish, resigned line.
He tightened his tie and made his way back to the office. Counting the steps he took the cameras in the foyer the guards in the hallway the days hours minutes since he had last slept eaten spoken more than an order or goodbye.
semper fi
Sixty nine floors. Sixty nine floors above ground (Six basements. Only three of which are marked on the elevator). The sun has set and the night is not a pleasant one. He seeks Rufus because its been three? Four days since he’s spoken to him in person and a cell phone and brief, trite discussion is ill suited for them both. He remembers a lunch and gravy and chess and wonders if they will ever regain enough time, catch enough hours in a single day to repeat the experiment. He steps through the hallway and Beatrice frowns in his direction (He looks like shit like Rufus looks like shit ‘You’re working yourselves to death!’ is the mantra of the staff who have been fired (relocated to lower floors) for refusing coffee and cigarettes and attempting to leave flowers for he-who-is-not-a-god-but-trying.
“He was yelling again” Beatrice informs him with a barely contained scowl. “I didn’t go in after the last time, but he’s been quiet for the last few hours and I think he’s finally asleep. If you wake him up so help me I’ll shoot you myself.”
He is not in the mood and she visibly shrinks back from the glare he levels in her direction, opening the door (first of double because impression is important) and stepping quietly into Rufus’ office.
“No” he croaks, voice raw and throat swelling, a curious sensation any other time but now all but ignored as he fights for breath and swallows. Blonde. Blonde and prone. Blonde and prone and gun and oh god oh gods no nononononononono...
There’s no blood.
He’s aware enough to know the room/floor/desk should be splattered but there is no blood.
The space between himself and the body (Oh gods Rufus you god damned fool you-) is crossed in an instant. The heartbeat at his fingertips is thready, bare, and hummingbird frantic. Pupils dialed and do not respond. He resists the urge to punch Rufus’ face because he’s so fucking calm and Tseng is not.
The cellphone is in his hands without even conscious thought. Orders are snapped by a mouth that works devoid of mental guidance because all he can hear is white noise and a begging voice to kill me kill me oh god please yes god just let go Tseng kill me please (Don’t let me kill myself. I can’t die with documents on my desk.)
Rufus is in his arms and his legs are pistoning and his heart may burst from the exertion as he climbs the stairs two-three at a time and he gives it no thought as the doors to the helicopter pad are kicked open with enough force to break and Rude and Reno are already in the chopper and Gun waits by the open door, plucking the prone form from Tseng’s arms before the Asian can ever utter a word against it and setting him flat on the floor on the stretcher built in strapped in protected and safe but dying so damn pale and Tseng allows one, horrified moment that he will rescue Rufus only to place him back in Shinra only to have this cycle repeat but then even that thought is rejected as the aircraft lifts off and heads for the hospital he had only just left.
Please he thinks to no one and nothing but a constant mantra in his mind over over and over the white noise and the sound of a boy far younger in body than mind begging for release begging for completion begging and he shuts out the world around him in order to sit on the floor by his side and grip a hand far too tightly, the other arm wrapped around a restraint as the chopper turns and nears its destination.
”You still have god damn paper on your desk” he mutters but wishes to scream- though the noise of the machine and neither would be heard anyway.
Please...
((Unedited and will likely be tweaked tomorrow, but here she be!))
YEAR OF HELL TIMELINE
Dec (early): Mum dies
Dec (late): Rufus deals
Jan (early-mid): Seph + dad dies
FEB-APR: actiontime (RENO)
May (early): Guppies
Jun: DECEPTIVELY FREE (GLORIA)
July (early): Bellson (Grey I)
July (late): Precollapse (megalog)
AUG-SEP: actiontime (Elena)
Oct (early): Grey II, Collapse
Nov: Recovery
Dec: Dance
*********************************************************
Steady. The pace ever increasing until he was all but shackled to his desk, the work increased. More time spent off the field to shuffle paper and assignments. Now looking after both Turk agendas (Reno given full status and partnered with Rude, no longer just an ear on the street but a full Turk) but also to the files department heads sent him instead of Rufus, matters for a Turk to settle that would free Rufus for but an instant before something he could not resolve came to the man. August saw him meeting Rufus every night- to report and discuss and force the man to eat and drink and stop and breathe and pause and, when all else failed, be fucked into the nearest surface and collapse from exhaustion when his body gained the upper hand over a tightly controlling mind. Tseng thinks idly that it can’t be healthy. Rufus promises him he will try. Tseng promises himself he will ensure it.
More balance- a loss of two more Turks means Reno is given more field work, and missions are split now into groups of two more often than four. He chafes at that small concession to their enemies but these are his men and capable. He asks Grey to complete Gloria’s training before she is brought fully onboard. She’s talented and willing but he dislikes her attitude (reason to join petty and foolish but competence is needed) as much as he enjoys her strength of will. September finds him ordering more death but far more subtleties. Where cards on a pillow do not work, more specific messages are sent. Children (he is not above killing a child and he does not pray but he knows it will be a dark day when he orders the death of a child) and family make easy messengers and suitable threats. Two offices- one on the 68th, one in the basement. It had never been an issue but now he was finding it difficult to switch between the two- reports piled in brown folders with an embossed logo. Bleed for the company but she never bleeds in return. Instead the onus is on Rufus and himself. To make any, every sacrifice worthwhile. He hesitates- but accepts Elena. Uncertain of her mind (Skills could never be questioned) because she graduates from the same institution (aptly named) as he and he can only suspect what state she may join them in- but his own years there have caused change, followed by the work Rufus has done, and the young woman is competent- if carrying a pronounced tendency to blush. September sees him meeting Rufus every second day, reporting, dragging the chess board out and forcing a game that spans weeks instead of hours as they spar and discuss and fight. (Eatsleepdrink).
October and Gloria is hurt, while attacks come in from every side. Kyo is the only Turk who abandoned and was not dealt with- he’d disappeared and they had been forced to remain and wait. Now he returned with a vengeance and targeted the Turks themselves. Lain’s sister is given a very highly guarded vacation. Gun’s uncle is told to ‘lie low’ and given a bank account only Gun has access to. Protections made but nothing can stop him from attacking Tseng’s men directly. Gloria hurt and Grey (last of the last of the older generation, almost 37 and almost too old (Shinra) to be of use but still competent and capable and angry and stupid) runs, half cocked, into a battle he can not win and they dump him (broken bleeding destroyed) at Shinra’s doorstep as a slap in the face and a final reminder that they are all, failingly, human. October and he tries to see Rufus once a week, at least. They don’t bother much with discussion. Both needing the exhaustion and the darkness of a few hours of sleep-not-rest before one or the other awakes and the cycle begins again.
memento mori
A vigil at a broken body’s side, he waits for the man to awake. For last words and last rights. Because as Grey had sworn he had sworn in return and Semper Fidelis is far more than a motto or belief.
He listens. To the beep of a small machine dispensing morphine through an IV and ignores the crawl of his skin at the thought. He breathes, and it’s the smell of burnt flesh and harsh cleanser that fills his nose, cloying and bitter and enough to gag upon if he’d eaten, but he hasn’t. Food is sawdust in his mouth and his throat is dry, has been dry for days. Weeks. He’s become a hypocrite because sleep and food seem almost unnecessary when he realizes the moments stolen may mean life or death for another.
Grey looks as his namesake, ashen against linen and bandages. Eyes milky white and wet, unseeing. Never seeing again. He knows Tseng is here by presence, footsteps, scent, and remains silent when he awakes and the man sits beside him. He knew. Doctors knew better than to be hopeful for a Turk. It was a miracle he was still alive, after all.
A hand, frail looking but still strong rose in search and Tseng gripped it dutifully. He understood the overwhelming fear the surrounding darkness created, the uncertainty, the need to be grounded. But his own dance with shadows had lasted a mere month. An excruciating thirty days, living on a ‘maybe’ and ‘perhaps’, but the chance, and so the constant struggle to regain what was lost continued, and in the end the bandages had been peeled away and he had blinked into concerned, controlled blue eyes, and the world was right again.
It would never be right for Grey again.
Words were spoken that had little meaning, needed to be said, but then silence fell between them again and, eyes still staring unblinking at the ceiling, the other man finally relaxed against the bed, lines of tension falling from his face and body, erasing the years that had been prematurely gained. He released Tseng’s hand and his hands returned to the bed, tugging lightly at the linen. Tseng reached into his pocket and removed a syringe, ignoring his internal shudder of revulsion. This was duty. Semper fi.
There was no heart monitor to stop and scream dramatically; only a man far older than his years slowly watching a chest rise, and fall, rise, and fall, then rise no more. When he left the room, it was emptier than when he arrived, and the nurses did not even have a last name for their paperwork.
He wanted to get drunk. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch and spar until his knuckles were bloody. He wanted to kill those who had done this. Those who could ever do this to any of his men. Destroy them all.
Instead he took a moment (precious moment) and inquired Gloria’s condition (To be released tomorrow, no heavy work for the next several weeks) and her eyes are red-but-not-wet and her face set in a mulish, resigned line.
He tightened his tie and made his way back to the office. Counting the steps he took the cameras in the foyer the guards in the hallway the days hours minutes since he had last slept eaten spoken more than an order or goodbye.
semper fi
Sixty nine floors. Sixty nine floors above ground (Six basements. Only three of which are marked on the elevator). The sun has set and the night is not a pleasant one. He seeks Rufus because its been three? Four days since he’s spoken to him in person and a cell phone and brief, trite discussion is ill suited for them both. He remembers a lunch and gravy and chess and wonders if they will ever regain enough time, catch enough hours in a single day to repeat the experiment. He steps through the hallway and Beatrice frowns in his direction (He looks like shit like Rufus looks like shit ‘You’re working yourselves to death!’ is the mantra of the staff who have been fired (relocated to lower floors) for refusing coffee and cigarettes and attempting to leave flowers for he-who-is-not-a-god-but-trying.
“He was yelling again” Beatrice informs him with a barely contained scowl. “I didn’t go in after the last time, but he’s been quiet for the last few hours and I think he’s finally asleep. If you wake him up so help me I’ll shoot you myself.”
He is not in the mood and she visibly shrinks back from the glare he levels in her direction, opening the door (first of double because impression is important) and stepping quietly into Rufus’ office.
“No” he croaks, voice raw and throat swelling, a curious sensation any other time but now all but ignored as he fights for breath and swallows. Blonde. Blonde and prone. Blonde and prone and gun and oh god oh gods no nononononononono...
There’s no blood.
He’s aware enough to know the room/floor/desk should be splattered but there is no blood.
The space between himself and the body (Oh gods Rufus you god damned fool you-) is crossed in an instant. The heartbeat at his fingertips is thready, bare, and hummingbird frantic. Pupils dialed and do not respond. He resists the urge to punch Rufus’ face because he’s so fucking calm and Tseng is not.
The cellphone is in his hands without even conscious thought. Orders are snapped by a mouth that works devoid of mental guidance because all he can hear is white noise and a begging voice to kill me kill me oh god please yes god just let go Tseng kill me please (Don’t let me kill myself. I can’t die with documents on my desk.)
Rufus is in his arms and his legs are pistoning and his heart may burst from the exertion as he climbs the stairs two-three at a time and he gives it no thought as the doors to the helicopter pad are kicked open with enough force to break and Rude and Reno are already in the chopper and Gun waits by the open door, plucking the prone form from Tseng’s arms before the Asian can ever utter a word against it and setting him flat on the floor on the stretcher built in strapped in protected and safe but dying so damn pale and Tseng allows one, horrified moment that he will rescue Rufus only to place him back in Shinra only to have this cycle repeat but then even that thought is rejected as the aircraft lifts off and heads for the hospital he had only just left.
Please he thinks to no one and nothing but a constant mantra in his mind over over and over the white noise and the sound of a boy far younger in body than mind begging for release begging for completion begging and he shuts out the world around him in order to sit on the floor by his side and grip a hand far too tightly, the other arm wrapped around a restraint as the chopper turns and nears its destination.
”You still have god damn paper on your desk” he mutters but wishes to scream- though the noise of the machine and neither would be heard anyway.
Please...