Urban Development

eviej_rt @ 2007-07-12T15:18:00

2007-07-12T19:19:18Z

And so, I finish. At long last as well.

Title: Strength
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve
Prompt: 100, Writer’s Choice
Word Count: 621
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: A quiet ending that is really just a beginning. It was my honor to give you Blue Prints for life. And now, if you don’t mind, I’m taking my leave of Reeve for a while. I’ve written over 100 stories, short and long, with him starring, and I’ve come to lose most inspiration. Hopefully in the future I will find it again.

Luctor et emergo. - I'll struggle but I'll survive.

Edge was not Midgar. It was nothing like it really. Sure, there was the same style of building, the same people, but it was not Midgar and never would be. Midgar had been a city of lights, a city that always smelled like mako, a city in the sky. And as much as Reeve had hated what the city had become, it was his home more than Edge ever could be.

It was where he went, when the days were long and the work too hard. He didn’t go to Aeris’s church, or to the remains or seven. Nor did he go to the ruins of the reactors he had created for this city. Instead he went to the only place he really knew, to the tower of ShinRa. To the shadow of the once powerful company where he’d held less power than now, where things had been just as tedious, but somehow more like life.

Climbing through the ruins of Midgar was no simple task, not even for Reeve. When once he had known every road of the city, knew how to get from any one place to any other place, the way the city was now made it hard. Sure, he had learned a few routes into the tower over the years, but he’d kept to several routes to throw off any potential watches. And then there had been Cloud and Kadaj’s duel in the city that had damaged the paths further, and the war with Deep Ground. It had been weeks since Reeve had managed to reach his perch, looking out over the city. And even now the perch was again different.

By the time the former executive reached his place in the broken down tower, looking out over both the ruins and Edge in the distance, the sun was setting. Already the lights of the town in the east were coming on, looking like a poor mimicry of the great city that had been there before it. In the distance beyond that Reeve could even see just about where the WRO HQ should be.

This was the world he knew, the world of his future just beyond the world of his past. His greatest success and his greatest failure so close together that you could not see one without the other… Really, it was a special kind of cruelty to have a fate like this.

Yet, if Reeve was not here to bear this burden, then who would do it in his place? Who would make the decisions that would either save or ruin the world? Could anyone else even survive with that weight on their shoulders? Cloud had refused the burden, Barret was not trusted with it. Tifa was too soft for such a thing, and Yuffie would have her own weight to deal with soon enough. Cid was too much a free spirit, and Vincent too much a loner. And Nanaki already had worries all his own.

If not him, then who?

No one. There was no one else to take this burden.

And so he sat, long into the night, looking out over his past, his present, his future. Already Reeve had come this far, and no matter the pain, no matter the cost, he would not relent now.

When there was no longer any moon in the sky, only the stars and the lightening that promised the sun to come, he finally rose and started out of the ruins of his past. Even from here, from so high, from so far, he could hear the beck and call of his present, and what would await beyond.

Somehow, he’d find the strength to keep going.

eviej_rt @ 2007-07-11T16:30:00

2007-07-11T20:30:56Z

Title: Hope
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Cloud
Prompt: 99, Writer’s Choice
Word Count: 730
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Nothing much. An attempt at a happy Cloud/Reeve. But mellowed out by memories of a mutual friend who came before.

“Did you know him?”

Reeve froze, with his hand on the door of the fridge. Really, he should have known that the conversation was going to go down this path. For all the tact that Cloud had, some subjects didn’t seem to be graced by it. Zack was one of them. Really, Reeve knew he should have stirred the subject away from this before Cloud asked. But the blond had looked so needy, and Reeve could deny his young lover nothing.

“What was that?” he said after a moment, finally opening the fridge and pulling out the orange juice he’d been after.

“Did you know Zack?”

Stalling wouldn’t work, as much as Reeve wanted it to. He owed Cloud the truth, even if it would hurt the younger man.

“I knew him. Through Lazard at first. I was often involved in helping Lazard arrange operations in the city. The former Head of Urban Development wasn’t exactly fond of having such a young and ‘green’ executive. And since I was the only other one with the access to all the blueprints in the city…”

“I didn’t ask about Lazard,” Cloud pointed out as he took the orange juice that Reeve had retrieved from the fridge to pour himself a glass. “I asked about Zack.”

“We knew each other. I never actually worked with him though.”

“Aeris and Tifa avoided questions about him in the same way you are.”

Reeve sighed and took up a seat across from Cloud. He knew what Cloud wanted. Assurances that Reeve didn’t like him because he was like Zack. Promises that his love was not just the echo of a man who was dead. Some kind of proof that Reeve wanted him because he was Cloud, not because he could have been Zack. It was something that Reeve wasn’t quite sure he could give the blond, as much as he wanted to. For the last few months, Reeve had been asking himself that question. And still he didn’t have an answer.

“Zack and I were good friends. I heard a lot of good things about you from him. Before he passed on that was…”

“Good friends like Tifa and Barret are good friends, or good friends like Aeris and Zack were good friends.”

“Aeris and Zack were good friends like Zack and myself before they met.”

“So you were…”

Reeve nodded, frowning to himself. This would be where Cloud would blow up at him and accuse him of only having feelings for him because he was like Zack.

“Did you love him?”

That caught Reeve off guard. Where was the shouting? Where was the pouting? Where was anything other than an odd and solemn acceptance? Why wasn’t Cloud doing… anything?

“What does that matter?”

“Just answer.”

He didn’t know. There hadn’t been enough time to know. Rare meetings over two years, most of them broken memories of drinking and quiet moments together in dark corners. Was that what you called love? They’d barely been involved beyond the physical aspects.

“I don’t know,” he answered after a while.

The blond nodded and set aside his drink. Before Reeve knew it the swordsman was at his side, his hand coming up to force Reeve to look at him.

“Do you love me?”

That was a far easier question. The fact that they were here together, sharing breakfast at almost five in the morning before heading to do their separate jobs should have been answer enough. Or the fact that Cloud had spent the night with him. Or that Reeve had cooked for them so they might have an evening alone. Wasn’t that enough to say he was in love?

“What does it matter?”

Cloud smirked and shook his head. “You’re just so difficult Tuesti.”

“Isn’t that why you like being here?”

The smirk became a smile as Cloud leaned in close.

”Maybe it is,” he whispered before kissing Reeve. “Or maybe, unlike Zack, I’m willing to try. Guess that means there is hope for me yet.”

After that Cloud just smiled and headed for their shared bedroom to get ready for his day. Left behind, all Reeve could think of was that Cloud wasn’t really like Zack at all. The masochist was going to stick it out, through thick and thin. Maybe the blond had something to prove, maybe the man was just using him… but damn if Reeve didn’t want to enjoy that while it lasted.

eviej_rt @ 2007-07-10T16:09:00

2007-07-10T20:09:50Z

Title: Origins
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve
Prompt: 98, Writer’s Choice
Word Count: 2,454
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Well, since it eventually had to be done… A final piece, I hope, to the whole idea of Ret. Each one had to deal with more and more of his past. And so, now, at least, we look into the origins of a Turk who would have been famous, for all the wrong reasons.

“Father, might I speak with you in earnest?”

The question earned the child a sharp blow to the side from the cane held in the man’s hand. Tears came to the eyes of the boy as he fell to his knees. No doubt there would be a horrible bruise tomorrow from the blow; the man had struck him with the extravagant handle, an arc dragon claw wrapped around a large piece of glass shaped and colored to look like a summon materia, rather than the end. While the child was used to such blows, he was by no means capable of taking one without some sign of pain. There was strength in his father yet, despite the man’s advanced age.

“What have I told you about speaking, boy?”

“Never speak out of turn. Only speak when spoken to and then respond in a clear and concise manner. Always address your superiors and betters in ways befitting their status. Never take familiarities that have not been permitted.”

Another blow came, this time to the boy’s back. This one caught the child completely off guard and he was thrown to the floor by the strength of it. Tears that he’d barely had a hold on before now fell freely. Were it not for the knowledge that punishment would only get worse if he appeared to be weak, the boy would have been sobbing. Somehow he managed to hold his whimpers back, and quickly moved to wipe away the tears on the long sleeve of his practice uniform.

“Do you know what you have done wrong this time?”

After a moment the child nodded. When he answered it was impossible to hide the pain in his voice. “I forgot to address you as is befitting your status, Master Ishikawa.”

“At least you have come to learn from your pain, child. Now wipe your tears and straighten yourself. Your mother would be upset it we came to her at the dinner table with you in tears. Can’t you even control your emotions, boy?”

The question was rhetorical, and the boy knew it. So it was in silence that he slowly struggled to his feet, trying to ignore the pain lancing through his side that probably meant a cracked rib. There would be time enough after a formal meal with the family he hadn’t seen in years to have it looked at by the physician his father employed. So, the boy grit his teeth and bore the pain for now. Weakness would mean another blow from that horrible man who claimed to be his father. Already today he’d suffered four blows for his incompetence, and more at this point would be more than he could handle.

“Well, at least you learn to hold your tongue fast enough. Come, we cannot keep the lady waiting.”

--------

Theirs wasn’t a very normal Wutain family. The master of the house was an old man set in his ways, a Wutain lord who cared more for appearances and traditions than he did for his family at times. The lady was a beautiful woman born of Mideel, with hair like chocolate and eyes like emeralds. She was the only thing that the master of the house had seen fit to wave tradition for. Of course, she was his second wife, and mother of only one of the master’s three children. The eldest son was much like his father: cold, rigid, stuck in tradition, and hardly fair to his younger brother. The only daughter, the middle child, was a great beauty, who had suitors from all over Wutai, and other areas. She was soft spoken, sweet, and everything that one wanted in a woman to take as your bride.

And then there was him. The youngest of the family at only eleven years. The let down of the family. He took more after his mother than his father. His hair was brown, his eyes were green, and his body far less wiry than that of his brother. The child looked more like he was from the Junon area than the Mideel. Mideelian people had a similar exotic look to the Wutain. While their hair wasn’t as dark, and their eyes not as slanted, they were not as rough looking as those from the continents.

He was the disappointment, the let down. His father looked down upon him, his brother thought him a waste of their father’s time, and his sister wouldn’t even smile for him.

Not even was he given a name befitting his Wutain blood.

The name he was given was Reeve.

--------

“Wrong!” a voice bellowed, causing the young boy to flinch. And with that flinch came a pain lancing up his arm as Reeve’s sparring partner took advantage of a moment lapse in attention.

“Again!” Master Ishikawa shouted. When Reeve didn’t pick up the wooden practice blade fast enough his father rushed in and swung the cane at him. Reeve barely managed to move out of the range of the cane, but in doing so lost the chance to recover his practice blade.

Before the youth could really do anything, he found himself defending against the repeated and violent advances of his father. Each time he avoided being struck by less and less distance, and less and less time. In the end though, Reeve’s stamina just didn’t hold out, and his flexibility proved not enough to protect himself from the experienced fighter. The glass orb smashed into Reeve’s leg, throwing him to the floor, and arms were brought up to protect his face just in time to get his arm broken by another blow.

“Pathetic. I’ve seen children half your age defend better against such an assault. Get yourself to the physician. And I do not want to see you again until that arm is healed. Now, out of my sight!”

Despite the pain, the boy slowly rose and limped his way out of the training room to find the physician.

--------

“Ah, young master,” came the kind voice of the family physician, “Today is the day, is it not? We’ll have your cast off quite quickly. With your recovery rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d have full control over your arm quite soon. I’m sure that will please your father.”

Reeve had no response for the cheerful man. The time he’d spent in the cast, working with the servants of the family away from his father’s site, had hardly been kind. His whole body was still sore from scrubbing the floors with one hand just that morning. Still were his knees raw from the work, and his feet were suffering from running errands in the city barefoot. And it just so happened that their home was closer to the mountains, which meant sharp stones underfoot for most of the trip.

Finally the young boy found his voice, “Couldn’t you… tell my father that it didn’t heal properly?”

“Pardon?”

“Maybe… maybe if he thought I couldn’t fight anymore…”

“I don’t think that would be wise, young master. Your father would be upset to hear that.”

True enough. Another reason for his father to hate him. But it seemed like these days there were more than enough. Reeve wasn’t the fighter his father wanted him to be. He wasn’t the gentleman his older brother was. He wasn’t going to fetch a dowry that would be worthwhile like his sister. In all truth, he was completely useless to his father and his house. Maybe, just maybe, if he couldn’t be the fighter he wanted, his father would allow him to attempt something else that would help the family. There was always education. He could learn business like his brother had. Or take up a trade that would make him worthy of his father’s love.

“Forgive me. It was a foolish request.”

So Reeve remained silent as the physician removed his cast and checked over his arm for proper healing. What more could he do?

--------

“I will not allow this.”

“I am not asking you, Master Ishikawa. I am telling you.”

“And who are you to think you can speak freely in my home?”

“Your SON!” Reeve shouted, jumping to his feet. Two years had not changed his will at all. If anything, he’d become more resolved to be free of his father’s demands. If the man hated him, well then he would accept that. He’d known it for years anyway.

“A poor one at that!” was the old man’s retort. “No gratitude for all I have given you!”

“And what exactly is it that you’ve given me?” the youth demanded angrily. “Broken bones, a bruised body, and nothing that makes me feel like your son. I’m leaving and there is nothing you can do about that!”

In fact, the only reason Reeve was even speaking to his father about leaving was because the man had apparently been alerted to his intentions by a maid. Reeve had been on the porch, pulling on a pair of boots and a rain coat over the Midgarian clothes he’d bought from a traveling merchant. Apparently the foolish little woman had thought that the master would care. And apparently she’d been right in one way. Ishikawa hated people disobeying him.

“I’ll not have one of my children leaving my home dressed as… a begger!”

“This isn’t what a begger would wear!” Reeve shouted back, fists clenched. He’d been about to pick up his pack and the ticket for his boat to Midgar when his father had spoken. “Just because you are unaware of the world outside of your little delusions doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!”

“If you set one foot off this porch then you will never be welcomed back into my home. You will be considered a bastard child of a servant.”

“How do I know that isn’t true anyway?”

With that the young man grabbed up his pack and ticket and headed out into the rain. It didn’t matter that he was leaving all he knew behind. This place had never been a home to him, that man never a father. There had to be something better in Midgar, even for someone as young as him. Anywhere was better than this hell. Even the hell of Midgar.

--------

Midgar was a rainy place when you were up on the plates. Reeve had only come to know that in the last few weeks though. While he’d lived in the city itself for over a year, he’d only managed to make the plate about a month before. And even that was an iffy thing. It was just another hiding place, this time from a gang in the slums that he’d run afoul of. Time hadn’t done anything to rid him of the coldness that had been born in him the day he left home. The year hadn’t weakened the arrogance that even half blood Wutains had. And all the days did nothing to teach him how to keep out of trouble. Already he’d spilled more blood in this city than the whole of his life in Wutai as the son of a noble lord.

Gods only knew how much more he’d spill were it to be found out just who he was, or were he to actually go home and admit fault.

That wasn’t the kind of man that Reeve was these days though. Ishikawa was already placed far behind him. He’d taken up his mother’s maiden name, Evans, as the only reminder of his birth. And then he’d taken Tuesti in place of his own surname. It had been the name of the woman who’d taken him in for a week before she’d died from some illness that didn’t happen up on the plates.

“Hey… you. Kid!”

Reeve looked up from his hiding spot, and when he saw a man looming before him the instincts that had been beat into him from an early age kicked in. Before he even got a look at the man the youth was on his feet and lashing out with a kick. The man was caught off guard enough that Reeve managed to deliver a good hit to the stomach. As the man doubled over, winded, Reeve moved quickly around him and rushed into the rainy streets. It was time for a new hiding spot.

He didn’t get far before he heard the person he’d attacked starting to give chase. Really, like some man would catch him. Easily the youth ducked into an alley, hoping to lose his pursuer in the hopeless twists and turns of the Midgar plates.

For what felt like hours he ran, until Reeve was sure he couldn’t have been tracked. Panting, and drenched from all the rain, Reeve leaned against a building to catch his breath. While it had been nice and all to get some exercise, he wasn’t really appreciating the whole soaked to the bone thing. After a moment he pushed off of the wall and turned to head down the street, intending on finding a new place to dry off. When he passed an alley, though, a hand shot out and grabbed him. Before he could even lash out at his captor, Reeve found himself pinned to the ground by the greater bulk of the man who had been pursuing him.

“You’re good kid, but you’re not good enough.”

“Let me go!”

The man, whose face seemed badly burned, just smiled before pulling handcuffs from somewhere in his dark blue suit.

“Come on… I’m taking you in.”

“Let me go you pervert!” Reeve shouted, hoping that someone would see and help him.

The shouting did bring attention, but oddly enough, the people that stared only whispered to each other and shook their heads.

“They aren’t going to help,” the man said as he hauled Reeve to his feet. “No one questions a Turk…”

Fuck.

“You got a name?” the burned man asked as he pushed Reeve forward, hand clamped tight down on his shoulder.

“Ret,” the boy offered quickly. Giving his own name might be stupid after all.

“I’m Veld, not that you’ll have much time or cause to remember it… Kid, you really shouldn’t have kicked me.”

“Not my fault you left yourself open,” the youth sighed, defeated.

But hey, at least this way he’d have an easier death than he would have at the hands of that gang. And even if this guy was as good as the rumors made Turks out to be, Reeve was sure he would be able to get away. What exactly could the Turks get out of killing him anyway?

Not like he was any use to them, and just attacking a Turk who had scared him wouldn’t get him into too much trouble…

Right?

eviej_rt @ 2007-07-09T01:23:00

2007-07-09T05:24:29Z

Title: Agreements
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Rufus
Prompt: 97, Writer’s Choice
Word Count: 1,525
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Reeve speaks upon the evil of ShinRa, both former and present, and their roles in the world. Putting this pre-AC because I bet that if anyone knew of Rufus’s survival, it would have been Reeve. Also, I’m operating that Reeve’s allusions to a financial backer from the WRO are really about Rufus. Fear Reeve using some of that backbone he found after Rufus’s ‘death’ in game to use.

When they met, it was over coffee, and he was hardly a willing party to it. The Turks, men he hadn’t seen in half a year, had just arrived at the door of the WRO headquarters outside of Edge, and had instructed him to follow. While Reeve probably could have handled one Turk at great personal injury, handling two would have been impossible. He would have, after all, had the edge on Reno since the red head had never known about the former-executive’s combat capabilities. So, for his own safety and that of his limited staff, he had silently followed, only to be met with the least likely face. Well, voice at least. The only reason Reeve could assume for the former President hiding his face would have been the Stigma anyway. Rufus was, after all, a proud man, unwilling to admit weakness.

“I was under the impression that you were dead,” Reeve finally said with a sigh, staring down at his untouched drink.

“There are many still under that belief, and I would prefer it remained so for the time being.”

Reeve watched in silence as the words settled in around them. There had been an edge to them, a threat no doubt. Not that Reeve was much concerned with the threat. Were he to die after being escorted away from his office by Turks, well, Shalua would likely put one and one together to come up with the expected two. And word would soon enough reach his comrades as to just who was probably still around.

“I do not take lightly to threats, ShinRa. You would do well to avoid them, lest they cause me to speak out of spite.”

There was a sound, possibly pleased, from under the sheet that obscured the face of the last ShinRa. Reeve knew that sound of course, he’d known Rufus long enough in his short time as an executive, and dealt with him enough in his time as the second in command of his department, to know what it meant. The blond was amused. Honestly, Reeve wasn’t sure that he could blame the man. When last they had spoken, Reeve had hardly had a backbone to his name.

“You’ve changed quite a bit over the last six months, Reeve.”

“It is Mister Tuesti to you, ShinRa.”

This time the blond chuckles, but it sounds hollow. The blond was in no way amused with how he was being treated, and that was almost pleasing to Reeve. It was not as if Rufus deserved his respect any more than his father had. Both were vile men after only their own ends. They had no care for the people, for the planet, or for anything but their power.

“As you wish,” Rufus conceded. “I suppose I should be happy that you haven’t up and left yet.”

“You should be happy that it is me before you and not one of the others. All have their reasons to want your head, me not the least of all.”

“A spine and a sharp tongue. You have come far in little time.”

“That I could say the same of you,” Reeve growled. He was quickly getting tired of dancing around whatever purpose Rufus had him here for. Right now he’d much rather be sitting through another technical lecture from Shalua that he could only barely understand. Or trying to teach Number 7 the proper way to prepare a coffee. It was still mixing sugar and salt up. Really, where had he gone wrong on that thing?

“I did not ask you here to suffer hostility.”

“You didn’t ask me here,” the older man pointed, “I was practically kidnapped by your goons.”

“Now let us be fair here Tue…”

“Yes, let us be fair. Kidnapping is just a bit too kind for them. Second nature, yes, but too kind. It would also imply the possibility of ransom, but for that one needs someone they can profit from. Along the same lines, goon would probably be too kind as well, save for in the case of Elena. I’d term Reno a coward, Rude a ruffian, Elena a ditz, and Tseng, more often than not, more soulless than yourself. Is this fair enough for you?”

“I would have preferred temporary detainment to kidnapping, and professionals to goons, but your opinion is welcome.”

“That would be a first, ShinRa.”

There was bit of creaking as Rude, silent in his corner of the room, shifted from one foot to another. That too Reeve was familiar enough with. While the bald man wasn’t often fazed, and rarely spoke his mind, the shifting was often a nervous habit. Of course, that couldn’t be the case now, could it? Reeve, making a Turk nervous? Almost laughable really. But there were first times for everything, and today seemed to be that time.

“Have you spoken your peace yet? I do have a proposal here…”

“No, I haven’t, and I’m sure I don’t want to hear any of your proposals. I seem to remember that your last one had you following a madman to the northern crater, playing right into Hojo’s desires. Oh no, wait, there was the time after that where your idea of shooting THROUGH Diamond Weapon, which for all rights and regards should have gotten you killed. Or hiding from the reckoning you and your family are due for what you did in Midgar, what you did to this world. The ruins of Midgar stand testament to the ShinRa legacy!”

Reeve stood and his fists hit the table harder than he intended, but nothing was upset. Which was almost a shame. It was quite likely that Reeve would never have another chance to stain the perfect white that the former President prided himself on.

“I am quite aware of all of these facts, Mister Tuesti. And it is because of them that I have called you here. It has come to my attention that the WRO is badly lacking in vital funding. Not all people are patient when it comes to pay checks, you know. Volunteers will only get one so far, especially when considering a potential military force to handle the weakening, but still existent trouble that comes with the creatures in the wild. I believe that you have spent quite a bit of your own personal funds on the development of your Organization. Drawing in the brightest minds left over from ShinRa, those who want to make a difference, even those who have worked for you in the past, it must be setting you back quite a bit. There isn’t even a WRO headquarters yet so far as I know. Unless you want to count that small office building you are currently using…”

The more Rufus spoke, the more deflated Reeve became. Before there was even a comment about Reeve’s own money, the former executive was sitting again. Apparently, for all the distance he’d come in the last half year, he was still not able to stand long against the Prince of Midgar.

“And your point?” was all the defense for himself that Reeve could muster.

“You are quite right, Tuesti, I do owe a lot to the planet, and I intend to pay back in full. Right now, the best way I can do so is by devoting what I can to the cause of the WRO, for as long as I can manage. Who knows how long that will be, all things considered…”

For the first time Reeve was presented with a glimpse at just how bad the young ShinRa’s case of the Stigma was. Of course it was only the hand that he could see, but it far more extensive than Reeve had seen even upon some of the worse children. Far worse than Denzel as well, but the boy wasn’t the worst he’d seen.

“There aren’t as many adults that have contracted…”

“Quite true. But that is not the concern. The WRO needs financial backing, and the funds of the ShinRa family were not all in the company and city itself. My offer is simple. You get funding, and in return, I retain my status as dead for now. I have far too much to do to make up to the world for my sins, and those of my father, to have Strife and the rest of your friends breathing down the back of my neck.”

“And if there are questions as to my new funding?”

“An anonymous donor that you’ve only met a representative of. Which will be true enough. I would rather leave this business to Tseng. I have other things to focus on as well. Further arrangements and conditions can be set at another time. To give you time to consider my proposal. Is this to your liking?”

Reeve could only nod, almost shocked by it all. What more could he ask for after all?

“Of course, Mister ShinRa.”

“A pleasure doing business with you Mister Tuesti. I shall look forward to doing more in the future.”

The man nodded and was silent as the man in the wheelchair rolled off. There was a lot to think of after all.

eviej_rt @ 2007-07-05T21:26:00

2007-07-06T01:24:16Z

Only four Writer's Choice left!

Title: Cinnamon
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Reeno, Rude
Prompt: 17, Brown
Word Count: 1,413
Rating: PG-13 or so.
Author's Notes: Tying up another not so happy story with a bit of a happy ending. Brought to you by the right cup of earl gray tea at the right time on the wrong day. Oh, and to those who might think they are suffering déjà vu in parts… It’s intended references back to my Circle theme: A Day In the Life. I went back to look at it recently and Runechibi had brought something up about it being like Groundhog Day. So, I decided that like the movie, Reeve’s repeatable day should eventually be broken in one way or another.

Oh, and for the drinks. I went to a website to look up stuff, entered a list of ingredients Reeve would likely have, and they made a list of stuff that could be made for that. I’m not telling you the site, because I don’t encourage drinking. NO DRINKING! It’s BAD!

When he wakes, it’s because he’s knocked the alarm to the floor in an attempt to shut the wailing off. Instantly a curse comes to his lips, just like every other day. A curse at himself, at fate, at the world around him. As he rolls to the side to glare at the fallen clock there is a self pitying mewl from the kitten who had chosen his stomach as a bed yet again. Elsewhere there is beeping as an automated coffee machine comes to life to reassure him that yes, it really is time to haul himself up. Through the fog in his mind, a weary man hauls himself to the shower, whose song was like that of a siren.

And after that, it all followed in the same formula that it had for time untold. He didn’t know when it had begun, or when it would end, not that either much mattered by this point. In the usual melancholy he showered, drank coffee, fed the feline, headed to work. The daze was the same as he swam, and lifted weights, and just existed. It was five cups of coffee between starting and lunch, no more, no less. Later, he has the same boring, meatless lunch. There is routine disapproval from the woman who delivered it, and routine picking with no appetite to be found. Let none forget the practical plethora of paperwork either.

Then comes the only break from the tedious routine of life. The Turk enters his office. With the Turk comes violently red hair, horribly messy clothes, a barely repressed desire for a lovely body, and a confidence all his own. After a moment the whole thing turns into routine as well. The habit has almost broken the last of him by this point. What was once a little five minute shelter from the monotony of life was not as much of a repeat as everything else. Reno knows that he is going to say no, and he knows that Reno knows. They both know he wants to say yes, and they both know he never will. It would bring a tear to his eye, were that not out of his normal routine.

So, in the end, like always, the Turk leaves, mumbling something about having to strengthen the red in his hair. The same bad, tasteless joke in the same bad, tasteless life. While he’s thankful that Reno has left, pulling away the temptation to break the cycle, it hurts, just like it does every other time. He’s not sure how much more of it he can take before he just breaks down and cries.

And, somehow, he’s shocked to find that his cheeks are wet.

Somehow he makes it through the routine of the day. The cup of coffee an hour, the paperwork, the staying in until nine, somehow it all puts him back on track and by the time that his cheeks no longer feel oddly stiff from the dried tears, he’s got control again. Once he’s read, just a bit later than normal, he packs up his stuff and heads out into the night for yet another evening of ritual. Just another night of jeans and coffee and leftovers and news that isn’t filled with any news at all.

In the end he curls up in bed with a kitten on his stomach, knowing that in the morning he’s going to hit the alarm clock off of the table and there will be a pathetic mewl and distant beeping. It’s the way of things, and he’s grown to accept that.

--------

It’s to laughter that Reeve awakens no more than an hour later. Laughter and the smell of cinnamon. The scent of the spice draws him from the bed more than the laughter. For all he knows, the laughter is some lingering dream. But cinnamon…

Reeve’s feet slip into fuzzy brown slippers as a fuzzy brown robe is pulled on. And down the brown and beige hall he shuffles, slowly making his way towards the scent of cinnamon. By the time he makes it to the living room the man became sure that something was different, other than the delicious smell. The laughter grew stronger instead of fading away. In fact, it took on the voice of someone he knew.

“Look! Sleeping beauty is up!” a voice cheered.

At last Reeve really woke up, and gawked at the pair of Turks sitting smack dab in the center of his living room. The plain brown couch had been pushed up against a wall and the wooden table placed on top of it. In fact, most of his living room had been pushed to the walls to leave room for the odd couple. Rude was sitting up straight many different bottles and glasses and garnishes all around him. Reno was stretched out on the floor, grinning like a drunken fool. And given the way Reno went about life, Reeve wouldn’t have been surprised.

“What… what are you doing here?” Reeve croaked out. This wasn’t normal. Not at all.

“You seemed lonely at work. You were crying man. So, like, me and chrome dome here went out and got lots of fixin’s and we’re like… gonna get you good and liquored up.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Ya do now!” Reno chuckled before slowly getting to his feet and shuffling for the kitchen. When he returned it was with a piece of cinnamon toast. “Come on. Ya know we ain’t leaving until you’re wasted.”

After a moment more of staring, Reeve slowly shuffled closer to the pair. This was very unusual…

“Sit!” Reno commanded, patting the floor next to where he had plopped himself down.

No sooner was the man seated than Reno shoved a piece of cinnamon toast into his mouth. “Eat! Can’t drink on an empty stomach!”

It took a lot for Reeve not to choke on the food suddenly in his mouth, but once the first bite went down, once the taste of cinnamon reached his tongue, Reeve began to devour the toast. He even went so far as to lick his fingers when it was done.

“Woah,” Reno commented, which lead to Reeve opening eyes he hadn’t even realized he had closed. “Man, you must really like toast.”

“What do you…”

“You’ve been, like, sucking on your fingers for three minutes!”

While Reeve was sure this was an exaggeration, it probably wasn’t far off. Cinnamon was something he didn’t keep at home because… well, Reeve was slightly addicted to the taste. He’d discovered very shortly after his initial hiring into the ShinRa company that everything tasted better with cinnamon.

“The cinnamon,” he began to explain, only to be cut off by the red-head.

“Rude, we need a Hot Gold.”

In shock the executive watched the older Turk set about mixing several things together. Well, not several things. Just what looked like orange juice and some gold-ish liquid. A cinnamon stick was plucked from some container and added to the glass that was then passed to Reeve.

“What…”

“Just try it. Let the cinnamon soak in for a while. Or you can do like I do and use the stick as a bit of a straw.”

“Why would I…”

“Just do it,” Reno insisted with a smile.

After a few moments Reeve gave in with a sigh and sampled the drink.

--------

When he wakes, it’s not because he’s knocked the alarm to the floor in an attempt to shut the wailing off. He doesn’t roll to the side to glare at the fallen clock, and there isn’t a self pitying mewl from the kitten who had chosen his stomach as a bed yet again. While elsewhere there is beeping as an automated coffee machine comes to life, for once he doesn’t seem to be moved. There is a fog in his mind, but no shower calls out to him through it. In fact, all that does is the now empty glass laying on the living room floor some five feet away, and a cinnamon stick that had fallen from his mouth some time during that night.

Instead of waking, of starting his routine, of condemning himself to another round of the usual, Reeve just cuddled up to the heat of the bodies he was between. Work could wait. The world could wait. Hell, even cinnamon coffee could wait another hour or so.

Here, now, like this…

He was breaking the routine, for once and for all.

eviej_rt @ 2007-07-04T23:14:00

2007-07-05T03:13:01Z

Title: Regrets
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Characters: Reeve, Reno, Rude, Tseng
Prompt: 88, School
Word Count: 1,757
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: The last time I attempted to put Reeve into a school environment, he was bullied. This time is a bit more positive. But still AU. Written as a partner piece, albeit late, to Mistreated. The music I wrote this to was No Such Thing by John Mayer, which the extended version of kinda fits this. But hey, it’s Reeve, and it’s Tseng. So it’s good.

You could see the whole of the school grounds from here, and Reeve had grown to love it. The place was quiet, secluded, and not exactly easy to get to anyway. No one went out onto the roof anyway, and the little area above the band room saw even less traffic. After all, there were student areas fenced off above some parts of the school, but the band roof was only accessed by a maintenance ladder. And it helped that while he could see down and out, it wasn’t easy to see up to him.

The place had grown into the refuge for the fifteen year old, despite discovering it two weeks after he had stopped needing places to hide out. Reeve knew irony when he saw it, and the discovery of this place most definitely qualified under that header. Still, the place had its uses. While he was free of physical abuse, that didn’t stop the emotional, verbal, or any other shit. Only fear of his fellow seniors taking him in as a ‘pet’ kept him safe anyway. Were the trio to leave who knew what would happen to the young genius of the school.

Reeve closed his eyes and stretched his arms out as the wind began to blow in. The air was heavy with the smell of rain, and the smell of rain had always made Reeve happy. It was the scent of a fresh start, of washing away sins and failures and short comings.

“If you’re going to say something cheesy like ‘I’m king of the school’, please, just jump now.”

Quickly the young man turned to face the voice, only to be met with the teasing grin of an arrogant red haired senior. Reno, with his uniform shirt untucked, his posture slumped, and a cigarette hanging between his lips, just gave a mock salute before plopping himself down on the roof. He didn’t come any closer than his predetermined five foot radius though. Somehow the obnoxious teen just seemed to sense how nervous Reeve was around him and knew how close he could get without scaring the kid off.

Of course, where Reno want, so went Rude, and when the shaved head of the silent senior soon appeared over the top of the ladder, it didn’t come as any surprise to Reeve. Rude was the total opposite to Reno. Where the red head was boisterous and wore his heart on his sleeve, Rude was silent and stoic. A good compliment to each other. Rude pretty much dominated the school in maths and sciences, while Reno took to the arts like a moth to the flame. Reeve often mused that were one to combine the two there would actually be a challenge to his status as top student. Well, one other than Tseng.

And speaking of the asian…

Reeve turned back to the view, not letting himself look towards the ladder anymore. If he did, he’d only betray a smile when he laid eyes upon the charismatic leader of the small assemblage. A smile and a frown. And who knew what that would lead to.

“I should have expected you knew about this place too.”

The comment, maybe an accusation, was met with silence save for the sound of shoes on the roof as someone approached. After a moment there was a sound of annoyance from Reno.

“Come on Rude. Looks like Dot-Head wants time alone with Poindexter.”

There was a grunt, Rude’s agreement, before Reeve heard the sound of shoes on metal rungs. If the duo was leaving, then Tseng did have something he wanted to talk about. The older teen never really spoke to Reeve alone, something that both upset and comforted the young genius. Time alone with the asian was always awkward. Reeve would always blunder somehow, sound stupid, and apologize near obsessively until Tseng just laughed it off and bid him farewell for the day.

And Reeve didn’t want what could turn out to be their last conversation to end up like that.

“You didn’t hang around long after rehearsal,” Tseng said at length, not yet moving closer.

“Had no reason to.”

“There was the picnic.”

Reeve just chuckled. He was well aware of how the rest of the senior class felt about him. No way was he going to put himself in the middle of a park, thick with trees and a lot of people who didn’t like him anyway.

“You know as well as I do that I’m hardly considered part of the senior class. Hell, I’m three years younger than most of the students in the class. I wasn’t welcome.”

“You were at prom,” Tseng pointed out, “And you did turn a few heads.”

“My parents insisted.”

“I see.”

Tseng sighed and moved forward, coming to rest just behind Reeve. He too stared out at the school grounds below him, or so Reeve assumed. There was little else to look after all. Only the view and himself. Reeve hoped that the asian could at least understand where he was coming from. People didn’t like the kid who had showed up and moved through four years of high school in only two. People didn’t like the smart kid that all the teachers liked, and the most popular kids in school protected.

“Don’t get me wrong, Tseng,” Reeve said with a sigh. He could almost sense the disappointment radiating off of the only real friend he’d come to have. “It’s not that I didn’t want to go. It’s that… I didn’t belong. I don’t belong. The rest of you… or a good part… You’ve been together for four years or more. Who am I to consider myself part of that?”

“One of us,” Tseng responded without hesitation, moving forward at last to stand besides Reeve.

“Tseng…” Reeve actually had to turn away from questing eyes, for the tears such a statement brought to him. Tseng hadn’t even known him for a year, and he was saying stuff like that.

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve been here four years or two weeks. You’re one of us, like it or not. Or… at least that is how Reno would put it.”

Reeve didn’t respond as he attempted to regain control of his emotions. Why they were always so on the edge with Tseng around was something he didn’t know, but the fact was that he needed control right now.

“What are you going to do?”

A neutral topic, and loaded all at once. Reeve knew it, and he knew Tseng knew it. Thinking he didn’t wouldn’t be giving the teen the credit he deserved. He was, after all, only half a point behind Reeve’s position of Valedictorian.

“Give a speech, cross a stage, take some pictures, and go home.”

There was a chuckle from Tseng, “No. Not tomorrow. I meant…”

“I know what you meant.”

The silence between them was comfortable for a few minutes before Reeve finally came up with a response.

“My life has been planned out for me for a while now. I’m going to MTI. Robotics. What about you?”

“My father is the head medical researcher for the ShinRa Corporation,” Tseng said with a smile. “I’m expected to follow in his footsteps.”

Reeve turned quickly to look at Tseng. He hadn’t expected something like that. The ShinRa Corporation was a powerful company in this day and age. They were in every field from medical research to robotics to plastics to even agriculture. And that was just in addition to a booming industry in computers. For Tseng’s father to be who he was meant that Tseng’s future had been laid out long before Reeve’s was.

“It might surprise you to know that Rude is the son of the main bodyguard of the ShinRa CEO, Mister ShinRa himself. And Reno’s father is the CFO of the company. They come here by request. Well… Reno got kicked out of his private school, and Rude joined him as protection. My father sent me here to have more of an experience with normal people than I had in my youth.”

Suddenly Reeve felt less confident about his fears about a preplanned future. Tseng and the others were more on a set course than he was. It was almost scary.

“You know what the secret is?”

Reeve looked at the asian nervously. He had no clue what Tseng meant and he was almost afraid of what would be said.

“Living for the moment while you can. Tell me, Reeve, have you ever just shouted in the halls after hours?”

The question was responded to with a frown. What did that have to do with anything?

“How about just running through the halls?”

Another shaking of the head.

“Are you going to come back here in ten years and regret not doing stuff like this? Regret not living while you had the chance?”

“I…”

Tseng chuckled and shook his head. “Well then. I guess we’ll have to wait and see then.”

Reeve nodded, his eyes still on the school grounds before them.

“I have no intention of regretting my time here.”

Before Reeve could react he found himself pulled up against the older teen, with Tseng’s lips against his own. His eyes widened and the first instinct was to pull away. Of course, as close to the edge as they were, and lacking a fence, that was hardly a good idea. And with Tseng’s strength it wasn’t likely the other senior would allow it if he didn’t want to. So the best thing he could do was just wait it out.

Though, just when Reeve was getting comfortable with the contact, and when an odd fluttering filled his stomach, the older teen pulled away. There was a smile as Tseng backed up and then turned away. And while Reeve was still completely shocked and speechless the popular asian made his way to the ladder down.

“See you tomorrow Reeve.”

There was a chuckle as the male went over the ladder and started down.

“And try not to trip when you get your diploma!”

In silence Reeve stared out over the school grounds. After a while he watched as Tseng rejoined Reno and Rude near the parking lot. There was something said by the red head and laughter resulted before the trio clambered into Tseng’s convertible.

And it was with a smile that Reeve finally climbed down from his safe haven. Tomorrow he was going to have to find a way to make sure he wouldn’t regret all of his time in high school…

Title: Pyramid
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Characters: Reeve, Reno
Prompt: 42, Triangle
Word Count: 357
Rating:PG-13
Author's Notes: Just casual conversation between Reno and Reeve one night in bed. Not too short, not too long. Just plain and simple and cute.

“How does it work?”

The question is innocent enough, or would be under the right circumstances. Considering the fact that this was Reno he was asking, that they were in bed together, and they’d just been involved in quite… strenuous activities. Well, Reeve really shouldn’t have been so surprised with the response he got.

“Well, when two men love each other very much, or are just really horny…”

There was laughter as Reeve punched the red head in the arm.

“I’m being serious Reno.”

”So was I. It’s not my fault you don’t understand the dynamics of what we just did.”

This time Reeve rolled his eyes and rolled a bit to get a better view of the smoking Turk. Really, couldn’t the man have enough respect not to smoke immediately after? It wasn’t fair. Almost made Reeve feel insufficient.

“I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about the pyramid.”

Reno rolled his own eyes in response. “I don’t know how the pyramids work. I ain’t even seen one before.”

Another punch from Reeve, though half hearted this time. If he was too abusive then Reeve would kick him out of the bed, and the executive was very comfortable with one of the Turk’s arms slung around his waist.

“Your pyramid, dumbass. That thing you do that traps people until someone from the outside breaks it. How does it work?”

The Turk shrugged and put the cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Carefully he shifted to wrap his arms further around Reeve, pulling the executive close. There was a smile as he kissed Reeve’s forehead.

“How does your limit break work? How does Cloud do that Omnislash thing? If you can tell me that, I can tell you just how pyramid works.”

“So it’s limit magic?”

Reno shrugged before pulling the blanket up around himself and the executive. “Sorta, I guess. I don’t know. Something like that. Leave that sort of answer to scientists or something. I’m tired. Get some damn sleep.”

The executive murmured in agreement, curling up closer to his lover. Really, the answer wasn’t too important, but he had a few ideas for later…

eviej_rt @ 2007-07-04T17:12:00

2007-07-04T21:10:41Z

A tiny piece of Reeve angst regarding Cid.

Title: Picnics
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Cid
Prompt: 46, Star
Word Count: 363
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Pre-game, back when the space program was up and running and Cid was a ShinRa pilot.

“You’re going home.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, but the younger man answers anyway.

“Nothing left for me here.”

“Where will you go?”

Cid picked at the remains of the picnic between them, not quite looking at his dinner partner. Reeve had already grown used to it, the pilot had been avoiding his gaze all night. Something made the blond unable to look him in the eye, and Reeve knew it wasn’t just that he was leaving. There had to be something more for Cid to be so wholly avoiding him and their conversation on what might be their last night together.

“Rocket Town. The place is practically my home anyway.”

“I see,” Reeve mumbled, looking up at the star filled sky. Except, he didn’t see. He didn’t understand. Cid said there was nothing left in Midgar for him. But Reeve was here, always would be. The place was the only home he had after all. Midgar was his place. But apparently it wasn’t Cid’s.

“If you don’t want…”

“You’re leaving for her, aren’t you?”

It’s a sudden realization for Reeve, and it hurt all the more because he hadn’t known it right off. Or maybe because Cid hadn’t felt like telling him from the beginning. Reeve knew why as well. There had been a woman involved with the incident at the recent attempt to put a man into space. A woman named Shera. A woman who lived in Rocket Town. A woman who was apparently stealing Cid away from the young engineer.

“It’s not like…”

Reeve easily cuts the man off with a shake of his head. Really, he didn’t want to hear it. With a sigh he rose, and gave Cid the best smile he could manage in the given situation.

“I wish you well, Mister Highwind, in all that you pursue. May you one day rest your head among the stars.”

There was silence as Reeve walked away, leaving Cid with the remains of their dinner and the same words he’d given the man after their very first meeting.

It was all he could do to keep himself from breaking down until he was out of sight.

Eight More and I'm Out the Door

2007-07-04T06:19:45Z

This one got long and totally away from where I wanted it. But the title is in reference to Reeve's materia set up and what seems to take priority.

Title: Independent
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve,
Prompt: 16, Purple
Word Count: 1,674
Rating: PG-13 for implied violence.
Author's Notes: Sadly I couldn’t come up with a good way to relate Reeve’s mad skillz in battle to the song ‘Purple People Eater’ for my dear rae. Instead I provide a reason why Cait Sith was UTTERLY useless in Advent Children. Not just lacking his Mog, but not even using magic. I believe in Reeve’s mad abilities as a mage, how else would a machine be able to seem to use magic in game? If anyone wants to discuss the amazing magical prowess of Reeve with me, feel free to say so. I love speaking about it. Oh, and for reference, this is the materia set up Reeve has for this story. Because, honestly, he doesn’t need a weapon with his mad magic skills.

Reeve’s Materia Set Up
Wizard Bracelet (Offense)
All = Master Magic
Master Command = Master Summon
HP Plus = MP Plus
Magic Plus = Speed Plus

Adaman Bangle (Defense)
Magic Counter = Bio

They’d lain aside for two years now. Very shortly after the defeat of Sephiroth, Reeve himself had helped to lay down the laws that forbid the use of materia in non-emergency situations. Using materia only took away from the strength of the planet and the Lifestream. So even the heroes had set aside their extensive amounts of the precious orbs. It had taken some convincing on the part of Yuffie of course, and everyone had been left a few orbs for the most dire situations. They knew how to abstain from usage though, so Reeve had seen no problem in it. And Cloud, who had never really used the stuff anyway, had been chosen to guard the majority of the orbs that had been birthed from materia they had mastered through the journey, mastering them slowly but surely.

So they’d lain aside for years, sealed away in the vault in Reeve’s office at the WRO when he worked, and in his personal safe at home when he wasn’t there. Yes, there had been temptation over the years to reach out into the power of the planet again. It was something that Reeve had learned to control over the years though. All of those with his kind of aptitude with materia had to learn control at one point or another in their lives anyway. But each day was more and more of a trial. It was growing harder and harder not to reach out and call forth the powers locked away in the faintly glowing orbs. This was the test, the curse that came with the magical abilities that Reeve had since he was a child, and while it wasn’t easy to handle, he had gotten by.

Until today.

Then again, Reeve couldn’t have thought of any better day for the breaking of his vow not to use magic.

Edge was in chaos. What had seemed to be a normal day, like any other in his life as director of the WRO, was turning out to be nothing like normal. He’d awoken near midnight with a rapid string of calls and messages from Yuffie, Tifa, and Rufus ShinRa himself. Calls that children had gone missing from Wutai. A call to say that Marlene and Denzel were both missing and that Cloud had gone after the people who took them. A call explaining, with the least amount of information possible, about the three men who called Cloud brother.

And let no one forget the show stopper before Reeve had even managed to get into his suit and get some food in him. That the silver haired men had shown up in Edge at the memorial. That they seemed to be preparing to tear the thing down.

Still, there was little that the leader of the WRO could do. He, unlike the others, was hardly useful in battle these days. Reeve lacked the ability to lift a sword, his body wasn’t a lethal weapon, and his aim with a gun was atrocious. It was with a heavy heart that Reeve sent Cait out that morning, with directions to find and assist the others in any way it could manage.

Without his magic, something he had given up for the sake of the planet years back, Reeve was useless to the others. The only thing he could do was stay out of their way as they did their best to save the world yet again.

His part in the battle taken care of with the dispatching of one of his robots, Reeve continued about the preparations of the morning. It was likely that by the time dinner rolled around there would be new damage estimates to draw up, to restore Edge before he could continue with the new constructions and the deconstruction of Midgar.

It was ritual alone that found Reeve transferring two bangles studded with the materia left to him, into secure pockets on the inside of his coat. It was ritual alone that caused the timid man to take them with him to work so they might be ritually locked up in his safe, just like any other day. And it was ritual alone that insisted he keep the faintly glowing gems close to him. There was at least a whisper of magic left flowing out from them, enough of a comfort for him to just remember what it was like to cast spells over whole continents in timing such that it would look like his little robot was performing instead of him.

So with rituals performed Reeve took up his brief case and headed out of his rarely used apartment.

Later he would come to blame the confusion of the streets for his feet wandering closer and closer to the square where the monument to Meteor and the lives lost to it stood. There was, of course, confusion, and a large flow of people towards the square, but it wasn’t that which pulled Reeve in that direction. Maybe it was the desire to actually see his allies in combat for himself just once. Maybe it was the need of the designer of the monument to make sure it was really still there. Or maybe it was the weight of metal and materia in his pockets.

Ultimately, Reeve only managed to make it halfway to the square when they came barreling down the streets. The creatures were horrible to look upon and dark as night, once you got past the bony, almost white… things that covered their heads. Further up the street he can just barely make out the square and the panic ensuing from more of these… things running around. The screaming from the square, making its way towards Reeve, sent a shudder down his spine.

Instincts that Reeve had been sure had gone extinct in himself years before quickly kicked in. Hands buried into secret pockets and first one, then the other, bangle of old was snapped into place at his wrists. And before the first creature actually manages to lay a claw within five feet of Reeve, the three closest, all pouncing for prey, fell victim to rapidly fired fire spells. Before the realization of what he had done set in, the executive had already cast aside his bag and picked off another few front runners with well aimed ice spells.

They’d lain aside for two years now, the faintly glowing orbs never managing to build up a layer of dust or lose even the littlest bit of their luster. There was a red and a yellow, two blues and two greens, four purples twinkling merrily in their metal settings as round after round of spells were shot off, barely leaving a dent in the stamina of the former executive. Attacks that would barely miss the mage won the one foolish enough to attempt to bring him harm the pain of bio spells. Those who dared to threaten or harm the people got a fate that was hardly so kind. Fatal blasts went off in rapid succession with protective barriers and restorative spells. And all the while the man made his way forward, towards the square where even more of the beasts seemed to take joy in their destructive madness.

By the time the executive managed to make the square though, a battle was already raging far above. Allies he’d never truly fought beside battled with a monstrous being that seemed no more than a mockery of the summons. Elsewhere Reeve even managed to catch a glimpse of vibrant red and cold silver, a sure sign of Turks doing their own part in this fight.

But with the eyes of the former heroes on the airborne summon, and those of the Turks upon silver haired men, none were left to deal with the chaos unleashed by the shadowy beasts. People were still falling victim to bites and slashes. So many people, so much pain, and so little that even those experienced in combat could do.

Reeve wasn’t trained in combat, and even the intense stamina of a mage such as himself was quickly wearing thin. There really was little left that he could do. So many targets, so many innocents, and so little time and strength left to him. Had he the sharp shooting of Vincent it might not be so hard, or the rapid shots of Barret’s gun arm. But all Reeve had left to him were the materia lain aside for two years. The magic he had given up for the sake of the planet, and taken up again for the same reasons.

One red, one yellow, two blue and two green, four purple orbs shone with a gentle glow as Reeve gathered and concentrated the last of his strength. Slowly the light died away from the red, the yellow, a blue, a green. Soon three of the purples followed in course, the powers of the orbs sacrificed for the sake of one last display of the power of the mage. And after the remaining purple, green, and blue, unleashed a spell of their combined power, controlled only by the strong will of one man who none had ever seen as strong, they too faded, all light dying away.

It was only the will of one strong, independent, and gifted man that kept the power of the spell in check. Only his strength that kept the ultima from losing its focus. Only years of experience with magic kept those innocents free from the blast, and protected the city around the shadowy things from harm.

But will could only get one so far. Strength could only hold out so long. Experience could only get you so far before you were in new territory.

Still, there was a faint smile on Reeve’s face as he fell forward, consumed by the greedy embrace of unconsciousness. And so tight was that lady’s grip, so strong her sway over a weary body, mind, and soul that the man didn’t even notice the fine cracks that formed in his beloved materia. His beloved, and now dead, materia.

eviej_rt @ 2007-06-08T23:33:00

2007-06-09T03:32:23Z

Title: Goodbye
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Zack
Prompt: 53, Earth
Word Count: 943
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Zack and serious. Two words I’m not used to using together. But I shall try anyway. I cannot promise much, but who knows, Reeve seems to somber up any environment.

“He doesn’t belong here. He’s not like the other ones. There is hope in that one. You can see it in his eyes. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You’ve said that before. And in the end they are more suited to the work than you are.”

“Not this one. He’s…” the younger man fumbled for words, “like you must have been before you came here.”

“Then I truly pity him, Zack. There is nothing worse than being like I was back then.”

“I just can’t believe that Reeve.”

“No. You just don’t want to.”

There was a chuckle from the younger man before warm, strong arms came to wrap around Reeve’s waist. Zack knew. Reeve knew that Zack knew. They just didn’t talk about it. Family was always a taboo subject between them. Maybe it was because Reeve’s had been abusive, and still was. Maybe it was because Zack’s was neglectful and hadn’t even seemed to notice that the oldest son had been gone for three years already. Or maybe it was because it was just too serious a subject for either of them to bring up. It made them think too hard about relationships, even their own. Zack was, after all, fourteen years younger than Reeve.

“He’s still a good kid Reeve. Can’t you just pull some strings and get him assigned to night duty or something? Maybe then he’ll just give up and go home.”

“Would you in his place?” was Reeve’s response, because there was no need to point out that he didn’t even have any strings to pull.

“Well sure…”

“You’re lying.”

Reeve sighed and pulled away from the warm embrace of his lover. His robe was pulled from where it rested against a bed post and pulled on to protect him against the chill of the evening. In silence he made his way to the desk that took up most of the room in his cheap apartment bedroom and looked over the piles of paperwork. Even though he was only a minor member of the Urban Development Department, he was still Midgar’s engineer, the designer of these new, higher tech mako reactors. There was always paperwork for him to do that no one else, not even the head of the department, was qualified for. The nearest pile was pulled under the light of a lamp as Reeve rooted around for a pen.

But, as was to be expected, Zack wasn’t going to accept the weak attempt to escape the conversation. Instead the SOLDIER pulled the chair, quite easily too, away from the desk. With a smile he sat himself down in Reeve’s lap and pinched the cheeks of the older man.

“No way you’re getting off the hook that easily, rosy cheeks.”

“I have work, Zack,” Reeve said weakly. He had, after all, given up his evening for the young man, as they wouldn’t see each other for at least a week when Zack was shipped out tomorrow. To some small mountain town suffering troubles with its reactor. Reeve wasn’t too worried about the mission either. Word was that Sephiroth himself was being sent because the man was bored, and Reeve knew that if anyone other than Hojo knew of how to handle a reactor, it would be the General.

“You can do it tomorrow,” the teen pointed out with a smile, pinching a cheek again. “You’re really going to deny me my precious time with you? For all you know I’m going to be pushing up daisies after this. You better bury me in the park, you know? None of that creepy cemetery stuff.”

“Don’t say that,” Reeve responded, his head lowering to rest against Zack’s chest. Little jerk always said stuff like that before a mission, and Reeve was getting tired of the bad dreams that came with it. Of a bullet riddled corpse in the dirt. Of blood mixing with the dust and of parched soil hungrily drinking in the offered moisture…

“Please, just don’t say that.”

“Hey,” Zack said, cupping Reeve’s face in his hands and forcing the man to look right at him. “I have every intention of coming back to you. You won’t be rid of me so easily. Okay?”

“Zack, I…”

“Okay?”

Reeve nodded and accepted the kiss that followed.

“Good boy.”

“Promise you’ll come back?”

“Of course.”

There was a sigh of relief from the older man. Zack wasn’t the sort to break his word.

“But…”

“Do we have to do this every time?”

“Absolutely. Now listen, because if you mess up this homework assignment I will be very upset with you Reeve.”

“Alright already. Just tell me what it is you want from me, Zack.”

“You figure something out that will help me keep Cloud from this. He doesn’t belong in Shin-Ra. Sure, he’s got hope like you, but he has too much. He’ll be crushed here. He isn’t strong like you are. He’s got his head in the clouds instead of keeping his feet on the ground, like you.”

“Is that really something so bad?”

Zack chuckled. Of all the people in Shin-Ra, only Reeve was likely to ask something like that. “No. But it won’t let him be happy.”

Reeve nodded and rested his head against Zack’s chest again. “I’ll figure it out. You just make sure to come back to me Zack. You hear me?”

“Roger, captain. I’ll be back before you know it. Soon you’ll be wishing I was still in Nibelheim.”

“Somehow,” Reeve mumbled as he stood at Zack’s prompting and followed him back to the bed they shared when Zack could sneak away from the barracks, “I doubt that.”

eviej_rt @ 2007-06-07T14:12:00

2007-06-07T18:12:41Z

Title: No Way Back
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Tseng
Prompt: 81, How?
Word Count: 1,102
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Ha, another for my kitten. This time what happens after Tseng meets up with his mentor turned into the Reeve we all know and probably love. I picked a song myself this time. Now Way Back by Foo Fighters is my background music. I feel it works well with the odd feeling of nostalgia and such Reeve is being stuck by at every turn.

All he wanted to do, in all honesty, was curl up under his desk and fall asleep. The day had been that bad. Sure, it was great and all to have gotten here, to finally be recognized for his abilities, and even to work as an assistant to the Head of Urban Development of Shin-Ra, but it had all been a bit much for just one day. For most of the day he’d been escorted around by some SOLDIER utterly lacking a personality who pointed out the varied offices and functions of floors in a type of monotone that had almost put the excitable young man to sleep on various occasions. Then there had been the mound of paperwork left by his predecessor that had to be completed before he could go home. And let no one forget the odd looks he’d been getting all day, including people walking slowly back and forth past his office door attempting to get a glance at the new employee.

Reeve was about a minute and a stare away from ripping his own hair out. Couldn’t people just leave him alone? Was he nothing more than a toy for their amusement? Last time he checked he was as qualified, if not more so, than any other low level employee in the building. Which meant he was nothing to be gawked at. Right?

If the sound of someone shifting their weight at his door was any judge, then no. He wasn’t right.

The tired man raised his head from behind the stacks of impossible paper work to try and glare his new unwanted visitor away. But the eyes that met his, dark eyes heavy with confusion, weren’t much like the ones that had been following him earlier. There was concern there with the shock… Something that stirred an odd feeling of familiarity.

“Ret…?” the man, Wutain most likely, clad in a black suit said as Reeve looked up. Even more hesitance rested in the voice than there was in those eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Reeve said with a grin as he stood and moved to that oddly familiar face. “I suppose the person who had this job before me was a friend of yours?”

“Uh, well…” the Wutain shook his head and Reeve could see that the smile was forced as the man held his hand out. “My name is Tseng. Would I be correct in believing you are the new assistant to the Head of Urban Development?”

“Yes. My name is Reeve. Reeve Tuesti.”

The new employee took the offered hand and ignored the odd feelings that came with it. He’d been having them all day anyway…

--------

All day he’d been hearing whispers he hadn’t heard in over a year and a half. Maybe that wouldn’t have bothered Tseng so much if it had been limited to the secretaries. Those women gossiped like no one’s business and when there was nothing new they would bring up old news. Ret himself had taught Tseng that. But when the whispering had spread to Tseng’s underlings in the Turks, when the whispers had the name ‘Ret’ in them, even the stoic Wutain had to pay attention.

Ret had been missing for over two years now. Gone without a trace. Everyone said he’d probably off and gotten himself killed. While it was likely, Tseng had never believed it. He’d always known that somewhere, somehow, Ret was still out there.

Nothing could have prepared Tseng for ‘out there’ actually being ‘in here’ though.

He’d just followed the whispering of ‘Ret’ and ‘Tuesti’, followed it all the way to the Urban Development department. To the door of an office that had been empty for almost a month. To the sight of a man sleeping behind paperwork.

Tseng considered walking off, knowing that there was no way the person could have heard him almost enter the room. But the person’s head came up quickly, and Tseng could do little more than stare. The hair wasn’t some impossible color like purple or teal. It wasn’t cut really short and spiked. The eyes weren’t hidden behind blood red sunglasses. The suit was too crisp, the whole look of this person too clean cut. Tseng knew though…

“Ret…?”

Quickly the man grinned and rose. Could this really be Tseng’s mentor? The one that had given him a life?

“I’m sorry. I suppose the person who had this job before me was a friend of yours?”

Except even though it was Ret the man obviously didn’t know it himself. Tseng forced a smile onto his face and held his hand out.

“Uh, well…”

Tseng didn’t know what to do. This was more definitely the man he’d looked up to. The one who had taught him how to be a Turk. A man who had been missing for years for no reason. How could Reeve not remember that?

“My name is Tseng. Would I be correct in believing you are the new assistant to the Head of Urban Development?”

When the hand closed around his, when the man smiled, Tseng’s heart gave. There was nothing he could do. This wasn’t his Ret. Hell, it was practically the polar opposite.

“Yes. My name is Reeve. Reeve Tuesti.”

“The pleasure it mine sir.”

They stood there in silence for a little while before Reeve looked at the Turk, a flash of confusion in his eyes.

“Have we… met before?”

--------

Reeve couldn’t help but be amused by the look of hope that was in the Wutain’s eyes at that question. Even the way the man was carrying himself changed. He stood straighter, his eyes seemed to glow just a bit. There was hope there.

Of course the man didn’t know why, but who was to guess the motives of the Turk? Because something told Reeve that this was a Turk.

“Uh… I don’t think so.”

“Shame,” Reeve said with a smile as he returned to his over crowded desk. “I was sure I’d seen you before in my dreams.”

--------

Tseng watched the ‘new’ employee with a smile. At least the man seemed happier like this. Not once had Tseng ever seen Ret really smile. Maybe this was for the best.

“I suppose I should leave you to your work then. If you ever need anything just ask around for me…”

Again Reeve smiled before returning to his paper work. For a moment Tseng watched before backing out of the office. All the while he tried to keep telling himself that it really was for the best. For Reeve.

Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he could move on.

eviej_rt @ 2007-06-06T12:52:00

2007-06-06T16:51:53Z

Title: Bloody Eyes
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Rufus
Prompt: 8, Weeks
Word Count: 1,147
Rating: PG-13 for Ret’s bloody mind and suggestions of suicide and murder
Author's Notes: Written for my kitten to In Your Honor by Foo Fighters. And… omgevilreeve. We finally get a look into the background of evil Reeve (remember he goes by Ret as a nickname) and ‘Prince’ Rufus. Kinda makes me hate Rufus though…

Not once in his life had Reeve Evans Tuesti understood the idea of seeing the world through rose colored glasses. People always used it to refer to other people who seemed too naïve, too optimistic, or too hopeful to see the world for what it was.

Thing was, and he could tell anyone from experience, rose colored glasses didn’t make you see the world in any better light. He’d tried all sorts of red lenses to try and find this perfect shade that apparently made you see things better than they were. Frankly all he’d ever found was that everything looked bloody.

Not that much remained free of blood for long when he was wearing his shades…

“Do you find something amusing about the city?”

There was a smirk in place by the time the Turk glanced over his shoulder to look upon his guest. Well, if one wanted to be technical he was the guest here. Not that he couldn’t also be a killer here, burglar here, or some other thing that didn’t require permission… Shin-Ra was yet to build a security system that could keep its prize killer out for long. These days it was starting to seem like half the reason they kept him around was to test the new systems. Apparently the line of thought had become ‘if Ret can’t get past it, no one can’. So far they hadn’t found something he couldn’t get past except for the doors of vaults, and even those only lasted so long in front of the proper tools and explosives.

“Yeah,” he replied at length, turning to give the blond his trademark grin. Not that Ret practiced it or anything, but people had told him he looked damn unnerving when he did it. A lot of people flinched when he grinned at them. His rookie had suggested it might have something to do with the predatory look in his eyes, or the fact that half the time that Ret had a reason to grin there was blood in his teeth… that wasn’t his.

“Are you going to share?”

“Your city would look damn cool covered in blood.”

Rufus moved to the Turk’s side on the balcony, looked out at the city for a moment, and then calmly plucked the pair of blood red sunglasses from his face. After a moment of looking out at the city with them on, Rufus too smiled. An empty smile like all the others, but when mixed with the blood red shades and pure white sheet currently wrapped around his torso… Well, the Turk had never seen the annoying twit more desirable in his life.

“I think you might be right,” the young Shin-Ra agreed, removing the shades and holding them back out to their owner. “It gives a rather… eerie glow to the place.”

“Damn worthwhile. When you’re president you’ve got to let me sneak out some night to replace the streetlights or something with red bulbs. Really freak some people out…”

In silence Ret replaced his shades and looked at Rufus with them on. The kid, barely twenty now, looked amazing in red. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what the boy would look like spattered in blood… Of course the idea was quickly killed by the part of him that was purely and simply Turk. You didn’t hurt one of the Shin-Ra family unless you had to. Especially not the prince.

“It’s a long way down,” Rufus said, breaking their silence a few minutes later.

“They say you die of a heart attack before you hit the ground when you’re this high up.”

“That scare you?”

“Should it?”

Honestly? Reeve thought it should. Any other person in the building, except maybe Hojo and most of the Turks, would be terrified at the thought. The Turks found it served as a great threat. Not one they carried out very often, but a great threat none the less. It wasn’t that they were fearless either. Hell, he was pretty damn sure that his rookie had a problem with heights. The Turks just didn’t care. It was training. They were going to die anyway, so why not in some grand way that will get everyone watching?

Or maybe that was just Ret.

“I think it should.”

”Does it scare you?”

“Should it?”

Rufus was probably the exception to the general fear. As far as Reeve knew, he was the only thing that the young Shin-Ra feared. With good reason. The blond was being trained with Turks for his own safety. Ret had come up with the idea about a year back as an excuse to spend more time with the blond. And damned if the old President hadn’t given right in… The boy was doing good, easily developing that cold Turk attitude. Or maybe it was just Ret rubbing off on him.

“I guess not.”

Again the pair settled into a comfortable silence, looking out at Midgar. After a while the Turk began to speak, only to find himself cut off by the Vice-President.

“Would you jump if I ordered you to?”

There was actually a flinch before Ret turned to grin at his little Prince. Well, that was unexpected.

“Would it get you off to see me die because you ordered it?”

“And if it did?”

With a smirk the Turk put his foot against the metal railing and began to lift himself up. He only stopped when Rufus grabbed his hand. And he’d almost gotten himself fully standing. Damn. Would have been fun to see the little blond panic a bit. It’d be getting some sort of emotion out of the little prince. Hell, it’d be fun.

“Don’t.”

“What, you afraid of losing me?”

Despite the comment Ret hopped back down onto the balcony and gathered Rufus into his arms, grinning wildly the whole time. He’d really thought he could have some fun pushing that shit to the limit. Apparently the little Prince cared just enough to not want to lose him tonight. Too bad really. Sometimes he was sure he was just waiting for the order because Rufus had grown bored with him.

Oh well, he’d see it some time.

“I wasn’t afraid of losing you. I just think it would have been an inconvenience to have to explain to my father what your corpse was doing naked below my balcony…”

Ret smirked and pushed the young man back into the bedroom. Really, there were better things that could be done inside without questioning his loyalty to the family.

Because why would Rufus need to know that Reeve didn’t care about the President’s or Veld’s orders?

Hell, information like that could almost make it sound as if he’d gone soft for this boy over the many weeks of their relationship.

Not that, the Turk noticed later as he watched the young man fall asleep in his arms, he hadn’t gone and done just that…

eviej_rt @ 2007-06-04T17:17:00

2007-06-04T21:16:41Z

Title: Blue Moon
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Cloud
Prompt: 45, Moon
Word Count: 1,543
Rating: PG-13 for Cid’s language.
Author's Notes: Post DoC by maybe a month or so. To Broken by Seether (featuring Amy Lee). And I once again feel bad about not giving Reeve the best possible ending. I think I should really finish DoC at this rate, don’t you? Oh, and it's for LilTigre.

Some information for blue moons: This is a situation where there is a second full moon in a month. It isn’t common because the lunar cycle is 29.5 days and I’m sure you can do that math. Blue moons don’t happen in February, but on years when February has no full moon there are double blue moons. This theme is probably timed well since there was a blue moon on May 21st for the US time zones (GMT -3 to -10). Europe and everything to GMT +10 will be having their blue moon on the 30th of this June, and GMT +12 area will be having theirs on July 30th. There hadn’t been a blue moon occurrence since 2004 for the record (there was one before that in 2001 on Halloween no less for everybody but EST). I actually looked into all of this. I’d suggest to people in those areas lucky enough to see the June or July blue moon take it, because the next one won’t be until late 2009 early 2010.

There had probably never been a more beautiful sky over Edge. A full moon like a pearl rested on a background of sable silk scattered with diamonds. It was a romantic way to look upon it, but it was well deserved. Normally the evening sky was cloudy at this time of the year. Normally dust and soot from the ruins of Midgar would mix into a haze to hide the sky enough to make the moon more of a glow than a thing. Tonight was different though. This was one of those rare nights when the rain clouds had parted after washing dust and dirt from the air. A rarity that had even the overly busy WRO President away from his work.

Tonight the man stood on the balcony outside of his temporary office and stared up at the full moon. It was the second this month. And, contrary to what people said about the color, it wasn’t blue. In fact, it was the exact same color it had been pretty much every other time he’d gotten a real chance to look at the moon. There really wasn’t anything special about it either. Just another full moon in another lifetime full of them…

To think that only a few weeks back or so he’d been afraid that he’d never even get to see another one.

“Reeve.”

A smile was forced onto his face as Reeve turned to regard the blond in his office. He bowed his head a bit in respect to the man as he reentered the office, gesturing to the seat across from his own.

“Please, have a seat Cloud…”

“I prefer to stand, thanks.”

“Understandable,” Reeve sighed as he moved to his own seat. The bad thing about it was that no matter how comfortable the leather thing was, it always had stacks of paperwork before it.

“Why did you want to see me?”

The older man leaned forward on his desk, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Cloud was going to make this difficult and that was hardly fair on the part of the swordsman. Even now, after all they’d been through, after the end of the world three times over and more, Cloud wasn’t all that trusting of him. It was understandable of course. Neither did Barrett in all honesty. Yes, he wasn’t exactly Shin-Ra, hadn’t exactly worked happily for them, but some old wounds didn’t close, even in three years. But really, considering the last few months the blond should have at least dropped the hostility for one meeting.

“Yes,” he nodded, not voicing those feelings. “There seems to be a rather large increase in the number of dragons in the mountains of Nibelheim…”

“I’m a delivery boy Reeve. Taking two short breaks to keep the business going doesn’t mean I’m at your beck and call.”

“I know, but…”

“Have Cid do it.”

Really, for having opened up during the past year, for having accepted his lot in life, Cloud still could be rather… difficult to work with if you needed a favor.

“Captain Highwind is currently working to help with the disposal of Omega. Unlike Meteor, we cannot leave it up there. For all we know it could crash down at any time. Gaia might be merciful but even she can defy her own gravity for only so long.”

When Cloud opened his mouth to speak again Reeve shook his head. “Barrett cannot handle a full grown dragon, not even with the help of Nanaki. Tifa no longer fights and Yuffie has business to attend to in Wutai. Cloud, I would not be asking you unless there was no other choice. I have even spoken with the former President Shin-Ra regarding the lending of his Turks to this, but there have been several renewed threats against his life by extremists so they are rather preoccupied.”

The blond sighed and finally seated himself across from Reeve. While he wasn’t exactly frowning, he didn’t exactly look happy. Everyone knew that Cloud enjoyed feeling needed, but he’d fight the whole way as you dragged him kicking and screaming (figuratively of course) into the situation.

“And Vincent?”

“Is indisposed at the moment…”

“So you don’t know where he is?” Cloud countered, easily reading between the lines of the statement.

Which was true enough of course. While Vincent had opened up more after the Omega incident just as Cloud had after the Geostigma, he was still an evasive and private person. Not that Reeve could blame him. He had, after all, dragged Vincent into the whole thing. The former Turk probably hated him for all of that. And Reeve probably deserved it.

“Will you do this or not?”

The blond actually flinched back at the harsh tone from the normally patient man. None the less he nodded and stood. “Have someone phone me the details. I’ve got some sleep to get if I’m heading all the way there with Cid busy.”

Reeve nodded and was silent as Cloud left. Once he was alone again the man rose and returned to the balcony and the beauty of the full moon.

“Vincent… why are you avoiding me?”

The question went unanswered in the quiet of the night.

--------

He hadn’t seen a blue moon since he was maybe ten years old. Half a century since he’d had a chance to see a night like this. Days were different back then. The sky was clearer, the stars brighter, life better. Or it had been in ways. Fifty years ago he’d had a father. Fifty years ago the world hadn’t been in danger far too often in far too little time. Fifty years ago there hadn’t been a Sephiroth or a Hojo or a Weiss to mess up his life.

Then again, fifty years ago, there hadn’t been him either…

Vincent shook his head and turned away from the moon and back towards the man who was pouring the drinks. Cid was still rambling on about something or other, but in the buzz Vincent really wasn’t paying attention. At least there had been some advantages to losing Chaos. He could get drunk again…

“…bashtard thinks he’s better than, than us and all that shit. Hav’t seen my damn wife in two weeks,” the pilot slurred slightly as he slid Vincent’s shot glass back across the table. While the gunner hadn’t exactly been keeping up with the conversation he had easily picked up where Cid was going with this.

“He’s doing what he thinks is best.”

“’Sy for you ta say,” Cid countered, gesturing with his own drink and causing some to splash onto his shirt. Of course the gruff man didn’t even notice. “He don’t even got ya workin’.”

“There is a reason for that,” Vincent pointed out, moving a bit further from Cid’s shot glass. He was yet to be drunk enough to appreciate liquor on his leathers.

“Ya’re hidin’,” Cid said, grinning and leaning across the table. “Wh’zat?”

“I don’t hide.”

And in Vincent’s mind that was perfectly true. In his own little mind he’d never hidden a day in his life. Merely relocated to a location with less pressing matters other than his thoughts. Too bad he couldn’t find a suitable place that removed him from his thoughts as well. Maybe that would make all of this easier.

“Y’re hidin’,” Cid declared again. There would be no dissuading him. “Ya did tell meh not ta tell Reeve where y’re at.”

“That is different.”

“Not much.”

“Enough.”

The pilot shrugged and finally downed his shot, though there was barely anything left in the glass at this point. Not that Cid cared. Once the glass was slammed down on the table the blond grinned and stood, albeit shakily.

“Ya keep tellin’ yaself that. I gotta get shome sleep. Work ‘n’ all.”

Vincent nodded and waved the pilot away with a small gesture of his gold claw. At this point he was quite content at the thought of sending the one who counted as his best friend away. While he was more social the gunner still needed time alone.

Once the blond was gone the man turned his attention back to the moon outside. The galley had a very good angle on the beautiful thing.

Blue moons were a rare thing to see, even at his age. His mom had told him all about them before she’d died. About how people said that things that were rare and special were said to happen once in a blue moon. She talked about how the moon wasn’t actually blue. Told him stories about how sometimes there was two in one year. Told him lots of things about the power of a blue moon, not that he’d believed any of it.

She said that true love was something you found only once in a blue moon…

At least he was starting to believe her in that matter.

“Reeve…”

A name whispered as a picture of a laughing and happy man, talking to Shelke. A picture Yuffie had taken and given to Vincent in secret. A picture that both broke him and made him happy at the same time. Because at least Reeve was happy. It was all he could ask.

“Be happy Reeve…”

eviej_rt @ 2007-06-03T17:44:00

2007-06-03T21:43:42Z

So close... So close...

Title: Puddles
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Tseng
Prompt: 75, Shade
Word Count: 886
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Feeling a Moment by Feeder taken as inspiration. For my kitten, who gave me the music. Fear my ability to apparently be nice to Reeve once in a while. Not only that, but I can make Tseng and Reeve without killing one of them or nearly doing so. Hopefully a view into the lighter, cheerful side of Reeve. He can’t be all gloomy all the time.

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the rain.”

“Couldn’t you do that somewhere dry?”

There was a chuckle as the drenched man looked over his shoulder at the speaker.

“It wouldn’t be the same.”

Tseng sighed and shook his head. Sometimes the former-executive could act rather… childish.

“You’re going to get sick if you stay out much longer.”

“So?”

Reeve smiled and spread his arms out, almost as if he was hoping to embrace the rain. He didn’t seem bothered that his best coat was drenched, that his shoes were being ruined, or that he was making a total fool of himself. In fact, the man turned after a moment and held his hand out to Tseng.

“Join me.”

The flustered expression gets laughter from Reeve. He had expected it of course. This was Tseng, a Turk, a hard headed fool, a man so set in his ways it wasn’t funny, and a person very caught up in personal appearance. Even now, in the middle of summer, he was clad in the full suit of a Turk on duty. Of course he was the only one. Even Rude, a stickler for procedures, had abandoned the blazer a few weeks ago when the heat wave had hit. Still Tseng wore something that was probably uncomfortable and sweltering, a classic reminder of how unchanging the man was. And one of how Reeve had been as well.

Tseng shifted awkwardly from foot to foot under the awning that kept him dry but his face managed to regain its blankness.

“You’re supposed to just be getting coffee. You have a meeting with the President…”

“He can wait,” Reeve pointed out. And Rufus could. The blond had been waiting two weeks for their meeting, what was another ten minutes? There could always be ten minutes that wasn’t about Shinra or Avalanche or the WRO. Ten minutes where they could just be people.

Ten minutes was what it took to be something more than just a figure head.

A wet hand closed around Tseng’s arm. Shock alone allowed for Reeve pulling Tseng out into the rain and puddles. Never would Tseng have thought that the man would have the courage to do something like that. He remembered years before, when Reeve, the designer of Midgar and its Mako Reactors, had just become an executive. Back then Tuesti had been a man afraid of a Turk’s shadow, who would never dare to touch one, much less pull them around. Apparently the man had changed a lot from that time. How could he not have noticed it before now?

Of course he still pulled away and made for the shelter of the awning.

“It wouldn’t kill you to be human once in a while…”

Words. They were nothing more than words. And yet they froze Tseng in his tracks, halfway back to safety, and long enough to get him thoroughly wet. It was something he’d said to Reeve a week into his new job. Back then Reeve had worked late into the night, he’d worked too hard to detach himself from the job, just to survive.

They were just words, but even the rain didn’t seem to wash them away. Even the music of the weather didn’t drown them out.

“In fact,” Reeve continued, reaching out to grab Tseng’s arm again, “it might help.”

“Tuesti…”

“Shut up and close your eyes.”

“Why are you…”

Reeve shook his head and pulled Tseng further away from the safety of Healin’, the Shinra headquarters for the time. Further away from the dry of the back door and further into the clearing, where there was nothing between them and the clouds in the sky but the rain. So Tseng just listened. The sooner he humored the man the sooner he could get inside and dry off.

For a moment he stood there, eyes closed, letting the rain cool him off after a week that had been far too hot for his good. And with each drop of water he seemed to find himself more and more relaxed. It was just him and the music of the water and the feel of the rain.

“See what I mean?”

Tseng’s eyes snapped open and looked over at Reeve. The former executive was just smiling and looking up at a sky that didn’t seem as overcast as it had when Tseng had closed his eyes.

“Sometimes,” Reeve said, finally turning his attention to the Wutain, “you just have to stand back and forget.”

“Why…”

Again he was cut off by the smiling man.

“We’re a lot alike Tseng. Or we were. I’ve gotten a bit better at being human. Now it’s your turn.”

Slowly the rain began to let up and Reeve’s hand closed around his arm again.

“Come on. We’ve left Rufus to his own devices for too long now.”

“It’s only been five minutes since you left.”

There was a chuckle as the drenched man looked over his shoulder at the Wutain he was practically dragging back towards the building.

“You were standing there a good ten minutes.”

“What? Why didn’t you…”

“You looked so… peaceful. It was beautiful.”

And with that, the teasing tone, hanging between them, Reeve released his captive and smiled again before bolting for the building, splashing through as many puddles on the way as possible.

eviej_rt @ 2007-04-10T16:21:00

2007-04-10T20:20:35Z

Title: Beast
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Rufus, Tseng, Vincent
Prompt: 76, Who?
Word Count: 2,049
Rating: R
Author's Notes: He he he. More evil. Actually, it’s better than evil. It’s the story of a Turk, an executive, a man, and told by those who loved them. Told in the final moments of their lives. Once more, brought about my the Dougan madness. Because it IS right for Turks, and this Reeve is a Turk. This time I added Left Me For Dead to Furious Angels and Speed Me Towards Death. If I had to guess I’d say that Speed Me Towards Death best suited my purposes for Vincent, Left Me For Dead was Rufus, and Furious Angels was for Tseng. But hey, make connections yourself. And you must pay attention, keep an eye on who is telling the story, because I tried to make the transitions smooth. It’s pretty much the italics showing that movement is being made from one to another. Always in the pattern of Tseng to Rufus to Vincent. The gaps will grow larger and larger, until the final wonderful gap.

A chill came with a breeze that played over his skin, and it was this that awoke the Wutain. Coming awake was slow at first, but after a moment, after his mind registered the fact that he had closed the windows before turning in for the night, he was up. Up and out of the bed. Up, out of the bed, and looking around the room for signs of movement as he pulled out his gun, Tseng almost didn’t notice the slightest bit of light from a corner. A lit cigarette. He moved quickly and leveled the gun for the smoker. What he didn’t expect was the smile that met his action, or the smooth chuckle that he hadn’t expected.

“Reeve…?”

“That sounded almost like a question, sir. Surely you don’t need to question if I am here. I’m always with you, am I not? Always at your side, a dog loyal to its master, serving blindly before betrayal. Tell me, Mister President, did you get off making use of a puppet in a new way? Was your bed not good enough for me anymore?”

“This isn’t fair Reeve,” Vincent sighed, frowning from his place on the bed. Nearly an hour ago the elegant, sweet, moronic commissioner had insisted that he only needed five more minutes to finish some of his work before he’d come to bed. And now Vincent was being forced to his feet, and after prowling over to his lover’s desk the former-Turk frowned. More of Hojo’s old files. While usually indecipherable, Hojo had always left records, of everything. Reeve was currently seeking out information on just what had been done to Vincent, but getting through everything else was hard, and taking away their private time.

But a certain aspect of the file caught Vincent’s attention. It was in Turk battle code… “Just what is this?”

“Is it forbidden for me to visit you Tseng?” Reeve asked, slowly rising from the seat and putting the cigarette out in the flesh of his palm. There was no reaction to the what had to be painful action from the normally emotional man though. Something told Tseng that letting go of the gun just yet would be a foolish thing to do. Maybe it was the fact that Reeve wasn’t a smoker, maybe it was the fact that he’d obviously come in through the window, or maybe it was just the smile in those eyes that just felt… wrong.

“No, but most people use the door. So… what gives me the honor of your presence?”

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Reeve purred. Finally the former-Turk appeared, directly to Rufus’s right. Before the President could react his former lover had removed the gun from his side, and smiled as it was cast to some dark corner, for now.

“Happy isn’t the proper word here Reeve. You are, after all, planning to kill me, aren’t you? How much blood have you spilled tonight? And after killing the best gunman in the world… What will stop this madness Reeve? Was it wrong of my father to try and stop it eleven years ago? You were uncontrollable… You shot my MOTHER.”

“The bitch had it coming,” Reeve countered, his arms wrapping around Rufus’s body to restrain him, the Death Penalty coming to rest against Rufus’s leg. He could try to kick it away, but he knew, knew too well, that were he even to try he’d be slain without remorse by this man. Vincent had become a legend among Turks only because of the fact that he went missing for standing against Hojo. Reno was a legend, and would be a legend, because of the wholly un-Turklike way he managed to be a Turk. But Reeve, given the chance, he would have been known for bloody reasons. Highest score ever on the entrance exam, best shot they’d ever had, absolute loyalty, absolute blood lust. Any perceived threats, true or not, lead to instant defense. It was how Rufus’s mother had died.

“She only wanted me sent…”

“She would have made you soft. You needed to be strong Rufus. And you are strong now.”

“How many have you killed?” Rufus demanded again.

“Just a few,” Reeve responded at last. It meant just the opposite of course. Or at least it did in…

“Old Turk code.”

“What was that?” Reeve asked, not looking up at his partner, too consumed by trying to understand the code.

“It’s old Turk battle language. Hojo couldn’t have written this. According to Tseng this specific kind of code hasn’t been used in about twelve years. It makes no sense…”

“What does it say?” Reeve asked, handing the file over.

Vincent couldn’t help but smile as he felt Reeve’s eyes take him in while he read from the report. He was shocked by the contents though, and soon sat on the edge of their bed. What was written here… It changed everything. Blood red eyes rose to look upon Reeve, taking him in for the first time. How had he not seen it before? He’d been trained as a Turk after all. Something like this, even so subtle, so unexpected, he should have seen.

“Reeve… what is your full name again?”

The man blinked in shock, and rose to sit beside the dark haired gunner. “Reeve Evan Tuesti. You know that Vincent.”

“So your initials would be R.E.T., right?”

Reeve nodded, but looked mystified. “What is going on here?”

“This file, is about a Turk, Reeve. A Turk put out of commission over ten years go by Hojo…”

“And?”

“He was called Ret, and if he was alive today… He would be…”

“You.”

The Wutain dropped the gun as it hit him. He knew that look, that smirk, those eyes. This wasn’t Reeve. No, Reeve was sweet and gentle, and at this person’s side was a gun. No… the Death Penalty. Vincent’s only sacred possession these days. This wasn’t Reeve Tuesti. At least, it wasn’t anymore.

“Ret…?” Tseng asked, almost afraid of getting an answer.

“So you still remember me, rookie,” Reeve purred, moving to close the space between them.

“How could I forget?” Tseng asked. No one had called him rookie in so long. He’d been only eighteen back then, and Ret, the amazing and unstoppable Reeve ‘Ret’ Tuesti had been known through all of Midgar. A man whose mere presence outside of the tower meant death to someone, whose hair had been every color of the rainbow at one point, who had more piercings than Rude and Reno put together. A man who hadn’t just worn the dark suit of the Turks, but blood red shades, as if he wanted to see the world drenched in blood. The most dangerous man the world had seen save Sephiroth himself. He was THE Turk, even though Veld had called the shots. Everything one could have wanted in a Turk. Tseng’s other role model…

“You seem to be the only one that would remember me,” Ret purred as he finished closing the distance, as a hand came to rest on a bare hip, and another cupped Tseng’s face. It was only now that Tseng remembered that he had never really been one to sleep in clothes, far too restrictive.

“Tell me this is a dream,” Rufus said with a sigh. He’d had it before. Ret coming back, returning the favor for the betrayal he’d thought he’d suffered. Of course, it wasn’t a baseless fear. He had, after all, lured his lover into Hojo’s waiting embrace, so to speak.

“If it is, it’s a nightmare my dear,” the former-Turk purred, Death Penalty redirecting to press cold against the back of Rufus’s head.

“Why now?”

“Like I said… Vincent put his nose where he shouldn’t have. See, Hojo wasn’t a fool, my Prince. He doesn’t get rid of useful things. Made me more than what the President wanted, more than some little pawn Turk that he could possibly return in the future. No, Hojo made sure I was indebted to him. All I needed was to be restored, to do his work. I was, after all, always the loyal little fuck.”

“But Hojo is gone.”

“And I’m not,” Ret purred, slowly forcing Rufus further and further back. Soon the blond was forced against a wall. Those cold green eyes were laughing at him as soft lips that he could only just remember pressed against his own. The hand that didn’t hold his gun pinned Rufus’s wrists to the wall, keeping him where he was.

“Ret, please don’t do this…” Rufus said softly. “I can make it up to you.”

“Oh, you will Rufus. I promise that you will… I’ve come for my pound of flesh.”

“I don’t understand.”

“According to this,” Vincent said, frowning, “you were a Turk, Reeve.”

“That can’t be right,” Reeve protested, snatching the file and trying to understand the code. “I was never a Turk. I was in school at this time. I was studying to…”

“Hojo is good at creating false memories Reeve…”

“NO!” the kind man shouted, on his feet and pacing around the room. “NO! You’re WRONG. This is a LIE! It’s all a lie!”

“Reeve,” Vincent sighed, moving to get on his feet and calm his lover. What he wasn’t expecting was for the man to grab the Death Penalty from by the door and whirl on him.

“Stay the FUCK away from me Valentine!”

The options were obvious of course. He could fight for the weapon, possibly killing one or both of them in the struggle, or he could talk his lover down. The answer was obvious. His lover was rational after all. It would just take a bit of time. So both good hand and claw came up and Vincent backed away. Reeve needed a few minutes to think.

“Reeve, listen to me…”

“You don’t get it Valentine. You got to DIE for your loyalty. You think it’s bad to be betrayed by a fucking WHORE of a scientist? Lucrecia was small potatoes. At least you had a CHANCE to make up for all your fucking sins you whore. The only reason your name was even remembered is because you went missing!”

“Reeve.”

“Shut-up,” Reeve hissed, his voice low, cold. There was death in it. Then and there Vincent knew that he wasn’t living through the night.

“Just tell me that you still care for me.”

Ret grinned. “You were always smarter than the boss gave you credit for.”

The lips of the other man pressed against those of the Wutain as the hand at his hip traveled lazily back, squeezing at his backside. He didn’t much mind the fact that the older man was guiding him towards the bed, shedding clothes all the while. Hell, before he much cared about anything other than this moment, this time, right here and now, he was pinned to the bed, his body covered by the former-Turk, former-executive, the commissioner, the deadliest man left alive. There had never been a greater rush in his life, and he’d actually let Reno drive his car once.

For years he’d dreamt of this, of being in the arms of the former-Turk. Just to be here now…

“Oh God,” Rufus whimpered as Reeve’s hands moved over him in the old ways. And somehow, he wasn’t surprised when Death Penalty went off.

And the silence was absolute, after the gun went off. Crimson painted the bedroom. Reeve, who should have been shaking in shock, was grinning. Vincent could see the madness in those eyes. The ecstasy that had come with the shot that had barely missed his head. He knew that the next shot wouldn’t miss.

“I love you,” Tseng purred, unknowingly echoing the final words of the first victim of the night. Echoing what Rufus had said when Ret had first been given to Hojo. Echoing all those empty promises form all of Reeve Tuesti’s life.

He didn’t live to regret it though. Reeve had always been an amazing shot. The final bullet in Death Penalty’s chamber, delivered at just the right angle, just the right time, to pass through both of their hearts. The last thing they would ever hear would be the words Tseng had left to ring into silence that had always been between them.

eviej_rt @ 2007-04-08T01:01:00

2007-04-08T05:01:21Z

One more and I can go to bed. Because I couldn't go to sleep with LilTigre unhappy with me.

Title: Colorless
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Vincent
Prompt: 20, Colorless
Word Count: 254
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Because apparently, SHOOTING Vincent isn’t exactly conducive to a relationship. Who knew? Can you believe that I don’t have any happy music? Like, I’ve got Barenaked Ladies, but that is alternative rock, which is both happy and deep, and often silly. You know? So I just put on my Coldplay CD and hoped for the best. Oh, and my poetry isn’t as bad as Reeve’s.

Red is for the blood you’ve bled,
Orange is for the tears that you’ve shed.
Yellow is for the light in your eyes,
Green is for the forgiveness of your lies.
Blue is for the blood in your veins,
Indigo is for

…

“Hey Vincent.”

“Yeah Reeve?”

“What rhymes with veins?”

“Pains. Brains. Mains. Canes. Why?”

“No reason.”

…

Indigo is for all of your pains.
Violet is for being so true,
And so I can say that I love you.

“Seriously, why do you want something that rhymes with veins?”

“No reason.”

A gold claw darted out before Reeve could hide his sketch pad away from Vincent. After a few moments the older man began to chuckle. Reeve couldn’t help but feel righteously offended. He’d been working hard on that poem. Kinda. Okay, so it wasn’t much, but it wasn’t his fault that he could never really find the right words for everything he wanted to say.

“You know, Reeve…” Vincent said after a while of watching the younger man fiddle with the sketchpad, but not really doing anything with it.

“Hmmm?” Reeve murmured, moving to rest his head against Vincent’s chest.

“I love you too.”

“Yeah. I know.”

As Reeve fell asleep in his lover’s arms, his mind attempted another poem, though it was probably as good as the last one if you asked him.

Could try to use the rainbow to describe it,
But I wouldn’t know what to say.
Because, my dear, I love you,
In a wholly colorless way.

Oh yes, I'm EVIL

2007-04-08T01:35:30Z

I am just the evilest evil there was to ever evil up the evilness.

Title: Released
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Rufus, Vincent
Prompt: 73, Light
Word Count: 573
Rating: R, and I’m proud of it.
Author's Notes: Brought to you by somniac, because it was decided that I needed brought into the Dougan worship. Little did our poor artist know what happens when Mercale is given music. Poor poor somniac shall cause woes. Who would have thought that ‘Epic Blues’ as somniac has dubbed it would be the perfect medium for the origin of woes. I like WOES D: so you all shall suffer for it. Seriously, Reeve is NEVER going to get a break now that I have Fuel AND Dougan. But, at least this time Reeve isn’t the one in WOES. Right? RIGHT!? Oh, and as for the victim? Blame unlovedunwanted.

There was a red tint to the room now, or at least to parts. Half of it was from the crimson of light shining through a bloodied lampshade. The other half was from the blood splattered over the walls, the bed, his hands… his face. Nothing that couldn’t be cleaned given time, and possibly bleed, but it was likely always to stain his mind. Well, not his mind. Nothing there was pure anyway. Never had been, despite popular opinion.

He’d never been an angel. Far from it. He wasn’t some peace loving, world saving, times changing hero. Or he never would have been, given the choice. But he was loyal, to a fault. Orders were orders, and got him where he was intact, even after ShinRa had fallen. Even now all he was acting upon was orders, though he had to admit, it felt wonderful to have a gun in his hand again. It was ecstasy to see the body before him, bloody and with the light gone from those eyes. They’d been pretty eyes of course, but he always got more out of the fogged glass look that came with death. Death that he had caused.

A tremor ran up his spine at the sight of the body, some ghost of regret maybe, but far from anything worth noticing. A phone was snatched up, which didn’t much matter, and dialed the number that would be a dead end after the first time he dialed and waited for the answer.

“And to what do I owe this call?” the voice on the other end asked, cool and collected despite the shock he was sure would come from his call.

“You’ve got a mess to clean up, President. He got to close…”

“What…”

“Now you know better than to question my meanings, boy. Valentine put his nose where it didn’t belong… So I blew it off.”

Reeve tossed a look over his shoulder to the body, and couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I think I might have taken a good part of the rest of his head with it.”

“You…”

“Weren’t supposed to wake up?” Reeve snarled into the phone, reaching out for the holster Valentine had made for Death Penalty. It took a moment to make a new notch so that the new master of the weapon could fit around his waist. Once that was done the rare weapon was placed at his side.

“I’ll tell you something, boss-co, I don’t know just what you had Hojo do to fuck with my head, but he does good work. Think me and the Death Penalty can do the same for you? I promise it won’t hurt, and you won’t remember a damn thing about being Rufus ShinRa.”

The phone was shut off and smashed under his heel. Reeve Tuesti smirked, a bloody thing, what with Vincent’s blood covering the pearly whites, as he headed for the door. When it slammed shut all that was left was the body of a once great gunner, the crimson of the stains, and the old façade of Reeve Tuesti, executive of ShinRa, pushover extraordinaire, and all around nice guy. All that was left was the cold, collected, and murderous Turk whose mind had been locked away behind that cover story for more years than he cared to remember.

Look out world, the real Reeve Tuesti was back after nearly ten years…

…and the fun had only just begun.

eviej_rt @ 2007-04-07T11:10:00

2007-04-07T15:09:21Z

Title: Don’t
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Tseng, Rufus
Prompt: 6, Hours
Word Count: 554
Rating: M/R, whatever.
Author's Notes: Finally. A hopefully accepted conclusion to Didn’t. Background music? 24 by Gem.

Don’t Read The Following Until You Are DONE Reading The Story:

I couldn’t help it. I tried to think of what would pull Reeve from Tseng as was hinted by my buddy. When it came to me, it wasn’t pretty. I came to ask myself ‘well, what if Reeve wasn’t dead? What if he came back, but just moments too late?’. And so this happened. I hope you all understand all of it.

An hour earlier and he could have been stopped, even if only by force. Two hours earlier he could have been talked down, swayed by a voice as broken as himself. Three hours earlier and he would have been able to understand right away. Four hours earlier and a gun never would have been considered. Five hours earlier…

Were it not for the blood, it would have been beautiful. The suddenly fragile Wutain, skin as pale as a lily, eyes as dark as night, hair as soft as silk, looked like doll. The already broken executive, covering the still body, his cheeks wet from the tears he had shed, bruises and burns still visible on the skin of the broken man. Yes, were it not for the blood, it would have been beautiful. But there was blood soaked into the dark hair of the Wutain, and an unearthly stillness to the mourning man whose body was draped over the former-Turk.

Five hours earlier and maybe they would have been okay. Six hours earlier and the pair would have already been working through the pain. Seven hours earlier and the fact that he was alive would have been a cause for celebration. Eight hours earlier and they would have been talking about how the corpse hadn’t looked anything like Reeve. Nine hours earlier and…

But it didn’t matter anymore, did it? You could go on forever like that. Twelve hours earlier and the executive could have watched as those who deserved to die were brought to justice. Eighteen hours earlier and they wouldn’t have found the charred ‘remains’ of the man. Twenty-four hours earlier and he never would have been gone in the first place.

It wasn’t twenty-four hours earlier though. This was here, and this was now. Here and now the apartment was empty, save him and the dead. Here and now there was silence, save for his breaths. Here and now there were two bodies, one dead by it’s own hand, the other betrayed by an already ravaged body, mind and heart.

Here and now there was Tseng, leader of the Turks, victim of suicide, and the belief that his best friend had been captured, raped and murdered. Here and now there was Reeve, victim of kidnapping, ransom, torture and rape. Here and now there were two bodies, tied together more in death than the two had ever allowed themselves in life.

And he knew, Rufus knew, that with a flick of his hand they would be gone, swept away to be cleaned and committed to the earth and the sea. A single motion and Tseng would be sent to Wutai, given the burial of a coward and traitor instead of cremation of the noble. One moment and Reeve would be sent to his family in Junon and committed to the sea in the age old way.

Twenty-four hours ago he might have considered doing just that.

But this wasn’t twenty-four hours ago. It wasn’t eighteen, or twelve, or six. It wasn’t even an hour ago. It was here and now. Here and now he knew what he could do for them. Here and now he gave the order.

In twenty-four hours their ashes would mingle together, allowing them in death what they had been denied in life.

All it took was time.

Hardly fit to be posted so soon after Dance...

2007-03-19T17:27:46Z

Next to the last piece I did, this is almost a let down.

Title: Forty-two
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve
Prompt: 59, Food
Word Count: 978
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: I remember, once upon a time, a challenge laid upon me by a good friend of mine. He was a writer I respected (and I still do), and it was a quaint thing. So began the short lived and ill fated Shin-Ra Mentality series. But that is in the past, and my recent nod to it was in the form of my story Indulgence. Today I nod to a specific phase of the challenge we had back then. Our goal was something interesting. For this challenge we had to follow a pattern with our writing. First sentence, one word. Second sentence, two words. And so on and so forth for twenty three sentences. It’s not easy to create a twenty three word sentence I will tell you now. But, in memory of that wonderfully fun challenge, I attempt it again today with a new theme to it. Let’s see if anyone figures out why the title is what it is, and just what that title means. Prize to anyone who PMs me with the correct answer.

“Coffee.”

“Black, right?”

“Yes, just black.”

“You’re sure that you…”

“Just give me the coffee.” The words were filled with annoyance.

“Right away sir,” mumbled the waitress nervously. With that she rushed off to the kitchen.

“Why are you always so mean to her Reeve?”

The executive glared hard at the young SOLDIER before him. It was the same question every morning, with the same answer. Someday Zack would learn not to question and Reeve not to answer. Today was not that day, so their ritual would run its course again. Yet the defense would be completely empty and the rebuttal without its former passion.

“Every day I come in here and order the same cup of coffee,” Reeve sighed.

“And that doesn’t give you any license to be short with her,” was the usual response.

What Reeve wasn’t expecting was what was actually said, “Yeah, you have got a good point there.”

Reeve looked up, ready to use his normal ‘but she’s always our waitress’, but instead found himself stunned. Zack was changing the game on him when he was finally sure of the rules and it wasn’t fair. For nearly a year they had come to this place, shared a morning meal, and moved on without another word. Now was not the time to change the good thing they had going, or to rid themselves of their comfortable silence.

“Zack,” Reeve said, his voice low and pleading, “don’t do this right now, I’m not ready to give up your friendship yet.”

The dark haired youth chuckled at the foolishness of his executive, because he had come to see Reeve as his, and only his.

“I have no intention of giving it, or you, up just yet,” he purred, leaning across the table to lay his hand on Reeve’s. “The way I see it, Mister Tuesti, you are stuck with me for as long as you’re willing to have me, and some weeks extra.”

“I,” Reeve started, but could find no way to respond to the mere idea of that promise, much less how to react, so he didn’t try.

“What, did you think that I came here for the food, because we both know it sucks, hell my toast is barely brown bread.” Here Zack shook his head and gave Reeve’s hand a reassuring squeeze, “I’m not here for the service, Reeve, I come only to see you.”

It all would have been rather touching if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Zack speaking and it wasn’t Reeve he was speaking too. As it was, this was them, and Reeve was more than used to Zack’s play flirting and wasn’t one to take the bait so plainly laid out. The problem with that fact was that he was so sure that he knew when Zack was playing, that he wasn’t able to know when he was serious. So, as could be expected, Reeve pulled away and sent a withering glare in the direction of the man he considered friend, a reminder that he didn’t buy it. These days Zack wasn’t quite sure what was joking and what was serious anymore when Reeve was around him, because there was just no way of knowing what he wanted.

“I’m not in the mood for any of your games today,” Reeve almost snarled, placing his hands into the safety of his lap and glaring around in search of the waitress.

Zack frowned down at his hand as if it had betrayed him, and found himself unable to do anything but miss the warmth he had just held, “Neither am I, not anymore.”

When he rose to leave, appetite gone and desire for company all but fleeing him, Zack couldn’t help but growl under his breath as Reeve’s hand flashed out and closed around his arm. For a while they didn’t say anything, Zack just stood there and Reeve just sat there, until the spell was broken by the waitress finally arriving with a mug of tar posing as coffee. With the arrival of his mug Reeve released his captive and gladly took the cup of pseudo-poison into hand so that he might sample the horrid liquid within, desperate for any distraction from the situation. Still, neither of them spoke for a while, and Zack did not return to his seat, leaving things uncomfortable until Reeve finally put the drink aside and pressed his hands together, as if he was praying.

“I expect,” he said, starting slow to find courage that he was lacking, “that you would not,” the executive continued, speeding up, “mindjoiningmefordinnertonight,” and the last words were rushed out as if they were only one word.

Zack turned on his heels, something normally reserved for quick retreats from a rather irritated Sephiroth (the irritation usually caused by Zack doing something crafted specifically to annoy the General of course), to look at Reeve in shock. Reeve didn’t react to the movement, daring not to get his hopes up, praying still that Zack would not be horrified, that maybe for once the teasing wasn’t all teasing, and waited for an answer, any answer at all. When Zack smiled fondly down at him it was all the answer he needed, and suddenly all the questions of ‘where would I take him’ and ‘what time should I say’ and ‘what if he says no’ faded into oblivion. After all, with that kind of beautiful smile turned upon him, with that look of joy in those dark eyes, with that gentle face covered with signs of happiness, no, ecstasy, what kind of bearing would those questions have on anything? Suddenly all the fears, and all the uncertainty in his life melted away because Zack was, in that Zackish way (which currently included shouting and whoops of joy in front of the whole dinner), answering the only question that mattered to Reeve.

A Second In The Same Day

2007-03-19T03:50:17Z

Made late and night and very deserving of it's own post.

Title: Dance
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Cloud
Prompt: 9, Months
Word Count: 1,460
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Well, thing is that I just got a HUGE boost of confidence and then I had a sudden urge to write! Not just write, but tackle one of my last obstacles in my Reeve pairings count down. At least, the ones I’m willing to do. So, my first piece with Reeve and Cloud only. It got a lot deeper than I wanted, but I think the result is far better than the original idea. And how do I do it? I just crank up my Apocalyptica CD, threw it on loop, and let the muses flow from there. And, just to say it, I want to take up the cello because of them…

What they have, and what they are, is but a dance. It isn’t graceful, it isn’t elegant, it isn’t even enough to stir their hearts or minds. Theirs isn’t the sort of dance people pay to see, or wild animals and young humans use as a courtship ritual. It is hardly even a dance if you sit there and stare at it for minutes, hours, days or months on end. There is no music to accompany it, and the partners in the dance seem neither to recognize their part in it, nor that of their companion.

None the less, it is a dance. And they don’t even have to be together for it to consume them.

Here they are though, working together on a bit of minor design that needed to be finished. Designs for a new orphanage for the surviving children who had been infected with Geostigma. One almost knocks over a glass of water, only to have it be swept away by the other seconds before there would be danger to the paperwork. When a pen runs out of ink another is already held out. Meals arrive before hunger is noted. And, more than anything, they anticipate each other. No matter what they move as if they were one mind in two bodies. And even they fail to notice.

What they have, and what they are, is but a dance. There is no choreography, no practice, and it isn’t intended. It doesn’t come from the heart or the soul, there is no story behind it other than the story of life itself. The dance is silence and motion, instinct that they shouldn’t have and desires they can never fulfill.

But none the less, it is a dance. Were one to look down upon it from above, were their motions to leave a trail of light through the air, one could see it as plain as day. Two lives so inexplicably entwined, and unable to realize it.

“Reeve,” Cloud spoke, looking up from the last piece of paperwork that he had signed.

The former executive looked up at the blonde, fatigue written plainly across his face. At least, plainly enough for the former SOLDIER to read it.

“Yes?”

“Go home.”

“Cloud…”

“You’ve been up for three days straight. And don’t deny it. Your eyes are so bloodshot that you give Vincent a run for his money.”

Reeve frowned and looked back down at this work, annoyed at how the words and numbers were blurring together. They’d been conspiring against him for the last hour, and apparently Cloud was in upon it as well.

“But…”

“No buts Tuesti. It can wait until you’ve had sleep. The WRO is only as good as it’s president, and if you’re practically living dead, what good is it?”

Reeve sighed and had to grudgingly admit that Cloud could be right. But stubbornness refused him that liberty.

What they are and what they have is but a dance. Sometimes it is slow and soft and hidden by all the hustle and bustle of life. Other times it is fast and furious and filled with their very different and very similar passions, taking center stage in the eyes of the world. Still other times it is a line dance as they try to deal with red tape, or a form dance where things are expected, or dances that are judged and rated by their public.

The fact remains though, that it is a dance. They are a dance together, flowing and changing with the times and needs around them. Neither of them know that they are in it, that their movements are so perfect together that they are living art. But it isn’t the sort of art that creates warmth and happiness in the souls of men.

“If I have to drag you out here Reeve, I’ll do it,” Cloud said, the look in his eyes one of a man who had grown used to being obeyed. The look of a man who had saved the world more times than he cared to remember and was willing to save it again, even if it meant forcing a stubborn fool to sleep.

“Tifa wants this done as soon as possible. Rufus wants the money provided the second we get the estimates because he’s trying to avoid detection in these affairs. And the people need this Cloud.”

“They can survive another day without it and without you.” Words that meant he wasn’t beyond forcing sleep upon Reeve, be it by knocking him out or using materia to aide him.

What they are and what they have is but a dance. Not a dance to summon rain, or praise some deity that has never truly helped them. It isn’t a dance filled with thinly veiled lust, and they do not degrade themselves by being all over each other. There is no tradition or ceremony or culture behind it. Only two bodies moving together so perfectly that it almost seems that their aim is to mimic planets circling and star and a star moving through the edges of a galaxy. Their dance is the dance of life and harmony, of death and war. It’s a dance as old as time and young as the tentative peace covering the planet. As precious as the whole of existence and worthless as a grain of sand on a beach.

Yet it is still a dance. One that they do not know or would accept it they did know. There is no applause waiting at the end, or roses for their efforts. Ultimately all it will leave them with is pain, so it is better that they don’t realize just what it is that they do. But they still dance with every fiber of their beings, with every breath they take, with every ounce of their soul.

And as Cloud leads Reeve from the room, half dragging, half coaxing, he doesn’t know he’s just moving through the next steps. As Reeve lets himself be lead, and tries to lead at the same time, he doesn’t notice that he’s just repeating something that has come before and will come after.

Forever like this they are bound to dance. Their silence is the music, and their pain the tempo. The rhythm is in their anticipation of the other. Their steps are written in the daily lives they plan for when they rise each morning, and in the memories of the day before they go to sleep. Before them is the audience, looking on in wonder that they do not understand, awe that they keep going, hatred that they do not fail. Their stage is Gaia itself, and their teacher is the past and the present and the chance of the future.

Still they dance, and forever they will do so. With each breath, each thought, each step they dance the same steps they have danced before. They dance through hatred and sorrow, pain and healing, life and death, hope and joy. But it is what they dance around that makes their dance so ultimately worthwhile and worthless. They dance around each other, dance around things they feel should not exist, dance around desires that demand fulfillment. They dance around love, afraid of coming too close and straying too far. They dance around unity for fear that they lose themselves, or lose their partner to it.

Until their death they will dance, and never will the dance leave the simple intro and overtures. Never will it reach the true beauty, for they deny themselves, and therefore each other, that little pleasure. For their sins they dance around what matters, never wanting to taint their partner with their past, and thus never letting themselves be purified.

And it is this very fact that makes the dance so beautiful and so horrible at the same time. It is this that makes it perpetual. It is this that makes it life and death. It is this that makes them… them.

They have the dance, and they are the dance. It is graceful, it is elegant, and it stirs lesser hearts and minds to tears of pity and joy. Any others would look on given the chance and envy their dance. If you stared at it, for minutes, for hours, for weeks, for months, you would know it. Life is their music, and the steps are so easy to do, but hard to learn. And they would wish it upon no others, for each moment of their dance, each hesitant step, is full of fear and reluctance. No matter how long they dance it will never be complete, and it will never be right. But they can’t stop. It is what they are and what they have.

And so…

They dance.

80 down, 20 to go!

2007-03-18T20:29:43Z

Title: Confidence
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Tseng
Prompt: 89, Work
Word Count: 734
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: In honor of the beginning of Elegant Tragedy, my very own y!gallery club dedicated to Tseng and Reeve, I figured I should write something about how they met in my mind.

Before the large doors of the boardroom stood a young man with wide eyes who was practically shivering in the sweltering heat that the President insisted upon. Five hours ago he’d been nothing more than another employee in another small office with no windows. Five hours ago he’d had problems keeping the mess of the person he shared his office with from his desk. Five hours ago he’d been studying a pointlessly simple reports to check them for spelling errors before they were sent on to the executive in charge of Urban Development. Now he stood before large and sturdy doors of the executive board room as the executive of the Urban Development department.

It was a substantial promotion that he could not for the life of him understand. There was no obvious reason that he should be given the position before people with more experience and seniority, but here he was none the less. Part of his mind echoed that he was no more than a scapegoat for the problems created by his predecessor. Another part commented upon the fact that the man was at the moment adorning a cold metal slab in the subbasement morgue. That part also commented on how easy it would be to put him on a matching slab.

After another moment of staring at the large doors, the young Reeve Tuesti backed up a few steps, running right into a person who had been coming towards the doors, and knocking them both to the floor. Eyes that had already been wide in awe were filled with shock and horror as he rushed to his feet, mumbling apology after apology as he attempted to help whoever it was up.

The fallen man refused the help and rose with such grace that one could easily mistake the whole fall as something that had occurred on purpose just so that the man could stand up once more. A dark blue suit, nearly black, registered in Reeve’s mind and the young man backed away in horror.

He’d knocked down a Turk.

And from the looks of it, not just any Turk.

He’d knocked down Tseng, the LEADER of the Turks.

“I’m… I’m sorry sir…” he stuttered, backing away and bowing repeatedly. His mind was filled with a mantra of ‘please don’t kill me’.

“Are you alright?” the Turk asked, straightening his suit at the same time.

“Are you alright sir?” Reeve countered. It wasn’t that he was stupid enough to ignore a Turk’s question. It was that he was more concerned that the man might break his neck for getting his suit dusty.

Tseng took a moment to look over the young executive, and Reeve couldn’t help but shiver from the sheer intensity of the look. It was as if the Wutain Turk could see right through him, and he didn’t like that feeling very much.

“Mister Tuesti, I presume,” Tseng said at length. “I hope I have caused you no harm.”

“No really, it’s okay. I’m fine. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, I suspect you did not. But you cannot be blamed for wayward feet. It seems they have inadvertently lead you away from your destination.”

As rattled as he was, it took Reeve a few moments to figure out just what Tseng meant by that. Was the man really trying to brush the whole situation off, call it an accident? Well, it was, but that wasn’t the point. He’d seen Tseng threaten people for less than this offense.

“Here, I will help you sir. It would be rather unfortunate if you missed your official instatement as an executive. One would hate for the honor to be received posthumously.”

Threat, warning, whatever it was, Reeve understood as plainly as if a diagram had been drawn for him. Either he went into that room now, or ShinRa would do away with their next executive before he even became one. This was a life or death situation already. There was no escape now was there?

“Oh. Okay. Thank you,” Reeve said nervously, flinching a bit as Tseng brushed past him to place his hands on the door handles.

“And, sir,” Tseng said, “If you flinch, they will eat you alive. Be confident.”

With that the Wutain threw open the doors to Reeve’s future, never knowing just how much those words would help him in the future. Maybe, just maybe, he could do this.

Reeve wins!

2007-03-10T06:05:02Z

I'm being nice to Reeve for once. Surprise surprise.

Title: Indulgence
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Tseng
Prompt: 12, Orange
Word Count: 1,846
Rating: R. R for Reeve, R for Really? And R for RIGHT ON!
Author's Notes: I KNOW I should be working on those other pieces for my gifts, but I was just thinking and… Well… *shakes head* You should be ashamed of me, but Reeve just needed SOMETHING good to happen to him, right?

The first time had been innocent enough really. He’d just been passing through the cafeteria to fetch a coffee, as the machines on his floor had all seemed to have been filled with something green (probably by Reno). Before he could really react to anything though, he ran right into a lowly accountant. Iced tea had been spilled upon him and ruined his favorite shirt, but Reeve had barely noticed, and accepted the panicked apologies with little grunts of barely there acknowledgement.

The second time was another accident, because who was he to expect this to be a regular event? Lunch had beckoned him for once, so he’d taken his reports downstairs to work on while trying to consume the poor excuse for a salad. It was more leaf than lettuce and there wasn’t even a tomato in sight. Well, there wasn’t one until it was the worst opportune time for it. His jaw had practically dropped open, and his fork had come down hard on a tomato he hadn’t noticed hiding under a leaf of SOMETHING green. It was three hours before he even noticed the stain left behind by the juice.

After that there were no accidental events. He’d learned there was a routine. Once a month, every month, on the third Friday at three in the afternoon. It was three in the afternoon because no one else really ever seemed to be there, and it was something to be enjoyed alone. It was a Friday because the object of his affection seemed to feel that Fridays were a day where some relaxation had been earned. It was the third Friday because that was when the fresh shipments of ‘food’ came to the cafeteria, but ‘fresh’ only applied to things that were canned or frozen. And the once of month seemed to be because the object of his desires was very, very cautious about appearances.

Today was the third Friday of the month. The time now was two fifty and seven seconds. And the elevator let out a gentle ‘ding’ as it opened to release its load. There was only a single person upon it, and with all the grace of his Turk training and Wutain heritage, that passenger made his way towards the lunch counter. Reeve, who was doing very well at his monthly imitation of a wall, was almost drooling by the time that gil and foodstuff were exchanged. And when Tseng took a seat at the traditional Turk table in the far corner Reeve almost groaned in anticipation.

He was silent in his little corner as he watched the elegant Turk tear open the paper container with his teeth, looking at the reports he had brought with him instead of at the foodstuff. Long, slender fingers closed around a wooden stick as a small pink tongue darted out to lick all the way around the bottom of the fruit treat to prevent any drops of the sweet treat from dripping onto his perfectly manicured hands. From his hiding place Reeve could do no more than shiver.

Every month Tseng went through this process of satisfying his sweet tooth, and Reeve enjoyed the little show. Yes, he’d always had his little personal delusions of having Tseng as his own one day, but the first time he had seen this ritual he had practically melted like the frozen treat. Quite honestly, he was surprised he hadn’t given himself away yet in all of the months of watching the sultry man consume the fruit pop in ways that would make even Reno blush.

Now he looked on as Tseng ran the tip of the orange flavored treat around his lips, his free hand signing another report that was probably poorly spelled from the sound of frustration coming from the Turk. A hand floated south as he watched Tseng take the tip of the treat into his mouth. On he watched as Tseng corrected reports while nibbling at the popsicle. The whole while he wondered if Tseng knew how desirable he looked when he would pause to lick at the drips running down the sides. What Tseng probably didn’t know was that Reeve made sure that the temperature was always in excess of sixty five when he came to have his snack. After all, he did so enjoy watching Tseng tend to his treat and imagining himself… Well…

But, as it always did, the display came to an end, leaving Tseng sucking on a stick that was stained orange from the juices of his frozen treat. The paperwork had been finished and the Wutain was leaning back, looking thoroughly satisfied with himself. It happened like this every month, and every month Reeve would just sit by and watch Tseng, wishing, waiting for a moment where he might be noticed. Yes, he was aware of what the man would probably do for the spying, yes he was afraid of losing a damn good friend, and yes he knew it was wrong, but he could not stop watching. Such beauty, such grace, and such damn talent…

Popsicle stick was placed slowly on the previously discarded paper packaging and a smirk touched Tseng’s orange stained lips. What Reeve always forgot was just how fast Tseng could be if he wanted to be, so it was no surprised that he was caught off guard when, what felt like seconds after the Wutain had risen, the man was before him, hauling him out of his hiding place. The hand around his wrist was so tight that Reeve could almost feel the bruises forming, and the look in his eyes was practically death.

“Tell me, Tuesti, do you enjoy spying upon me?” Tseng asked, voice utterly level, betraying no anger, or anything else for that matter.

Unsurprisingly, Reeve could not find a response in himself.

“I would suppose so, seeing as you have been here every single month for the last year, watching me. Same place, same time. Always watching me.”

Reeve shuddered, learning into the far too strong grip, ignoring the spreading numbness. He’d heard Reno tell stories of how Tseng had brought men twice his size to their knees while touching only their fingers or wrists. But Reeve had never known himself to be a masochist. Really, he had to be one if he was enjoying this sheer pain so much. He was pretty sure that just the tiniest bit more pressure would break his wrist.

“I don’t appreciate being watched, even by an executive. In fact, I dislike the scrutiny of any executives more than anything else. Should I make an example of you?”

‘Oh gods yes,’ his mind screamed. His lips betrayed him with a pathetic little whimper as he crumpled to his knees before Tseng.

Tseng, of course, didn’t seem to appreciate the fact that Reeve was on his knees before him. Part of Reeve assumed this was because the Turks were trained to protect the executives unless told explicitly other wise. The other part was holding out that Tseng was just toying with him, and it was more exciting than the little show Reeve had seen just moments before. He wanted nothing more than for Tseng to be toying with him, but it was a rather irrational idea. Tseng was, after all, the most asexual thing in this building, unless he was with his little frozen treat. Still, the Wutain hauled Reeve to his feet and loosened his grip. Before Reeve knew it he was pinned to the wall, hands above his head, both held by just one of Tseng’s.

“Oh yes, I should make an example of you Tuesti. After all, you are the most harmless one here. Even Hojo might take this kind of threat… My business is my own.”

He expected a punch delivered from Tseng’s free hand. He deserved a knee to the crotch. He was sure that Tseng was going to punch him in the gut. The punishment he was not expecting was the one he was getting. He gasped at the cold lips against his own, moaned at the taste of oranges and cream mixed with strong coffee, and had to swallow back a yelp at the unexpected contact of Tseng’s thigh and his crotch. It was the most confusing, and most pleasant moment in the whole of his life.

When the Wutain withdrew all Reeve was capable of was panting, his eyes still shut and his whole body suffering from more tension than he’d ever known in his life. Gods on high what was going on? This had to be just a dream, Tseng would never do this, and he was always so careful not to get caught. And yet, there was pain still lancing through the arm Tseng had gripped earlier, grounding him to what had to be reality.

“Will that teach you not to spy upon me?”

“Ungh…” was all he could manage at the moment.

“What was that Tuesti? Was that a no? Were you saying ‘no way in hell’? Do I have to dole out a harsher punishment?”

The whole thing was purred so close to his ear that Reeve could practically feel the rumbling deep in the other man’s chest. The heat of Tseng’s breath was setting the whole of his body on fire, and Reeve was so sure he could die happily at this moment.

“No,” he finally managed to whimper to Tseng. “I mean… yes… I mean… Just kiss me again. Please.”

“Gladly,” Tseng chuckled, amused more at Reeve’s inability to get his point across than at the command. Once more he pressed his lips against Reeve’s, chuckling as the man attempted to press closer despite being very thoroughly pinned.

Reeve whimpered as Tseng pulled away, releasing him from the hold. There was, no doubt, a smirk on the Wutain’s as he watched the executive slide down the wall, his legs jello. Thoughts flew around his head but he couldn’t focus on any except for just how sadistic this Turk was.

“Why…”

“Do you not have a watch? It’s nearly four. Lower level employees always stop in for a snack for their trips home… In a few minutes this place will be crawling with other people.”

Damn, he hated that stupid logic.

“But… but…”

His heart fell as the Wutain turned on his heels and made his way towards the elevators. When he was halfway there the man paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Aren’t you joining me?”

It was the work of seconds for the man to reach Tseng’s side. “You want me to come with you?”

There was a chuckle from the Wutain. “Well, I would suppose that was the point, but I can’t guarantee it would be at the same time. But… I’m sure one of us will be doing just that.”

Tseng didn’t say anything else as he made his way for the elevators. He didn’t need to...

After that night, Reeve always made sure there was a damn good supply of name brand popsicles stored away in the small mini fridge he kept in his office.

Great Stuff!

2007-03-07T04:17:55Z

Title: Faith
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Tseng
Prompt: 47, Heart
Word Count: 2,076
Rating: PG-13, or maybe T for Teen
Author's Notes: Best of You by Foo Fighters. I think I like this one. I think I really do. I enjoyed making it and I shuddered the whole time I wrote. Is that a good thing?

Crimson, orange, pink, violet, every color known for being vibrant, every cliché color of the perfect sunset was out tonight. There was no detail missed, no stops were pulled, no holds barred. The sun was setting into a calm blue sea and the sky was so surreal that you either had to be with a loved one to appreciate it, or you had to have an artist’s eye. Something so fake in it’s reality that you almost had to reach out to prove yourself wrong. It was perfect in every way, a sunset that you dreamt of for proposing to your lover, for sharing a quiet picnic, for just existing for a short moment in time in absolute splendor. A moment that made you believe in the Lifestream, in the gods, in the best of humanity. Such beauty was something you saw in museums and galleries, but this one was before you, painted in hopes and dreams, love and devotion, promises and bonds. Every emotion painted into one short moment of love, each emotion a different and important color. It was life in one short breath.

It was the best of sunsets, all for him. So breathtaking, so absolutely beautiful, and the way it painted the face of his lover in reds and oranges and pinks… There were no words to describe it really. Tseng’s hair seemed to be ablaze with the colors, and even those dark eyes shone with a light he had never before seen in them. Reeve’s greatest desire at the moment was to pull the Wutain close and just kiss the lips tinted rose by the light. He wanted to share in the sheer beauty that brought tears to his eyes.

No sooner had it come than it was gone again. The colors suddenly weren’t perfect. The way the light caught the water just made him feel a bit cold instead of warm. Peering into Tseng’s face made him feel empty inside instead of overflowing. And the faith he’d had for humanity, for Tseng, for himself, were washed away with the waves. It was, after all, just another sunset, just another moment. One among many, no more important than that before it nor after it, except for it was to be the last of the moments. Maybe not for him, but definitely for them.

“Beautiful,” Tseng purred as the sun finally faded away, and the shudder of desire that purr always caused rushed up Reeve’s back. Something about that voice always turned him to putty, and he almost hated Tseng for it. Almost.

“Quite,” he did agree though, looking at Tseng instead of the sunset. It was right up there with those old cliché lines, but he couldn’t help it. Somewhere inside he was still a hopeless romantic, but sadly more of the former than the latter.

When the Wutain turned and smiled at him, he could do little more than smile back. All he really wanted at the moment was to reach out and kill the Turk, take him back to their room at the inn and remind him just why they were together. It would be good too, he wouldn’t regret it for a while. Hell, it’d be damn good, it always was. Never mattered how it would start, just where it would end up, and how he would feel afterwards.

There would be kisses first, fast and far too teasing for the man’s liking, but well suited to the near hit and run tactics Tseng had taken up these days. Reeve’s fingers would fumble with buttons while Tseng would strip him with such efficiency that Reeve could feel like little more than some report that the man was going over. The bed would bounce as with a single shove Tseng would show the former executive his place. And he would lay there as Tseng finished the task of shedding their clothes, every move precise and using the least amount of effort possible. Again their lips would meet, frantic on Reeve’s part, commanding on Tseng’s. With no words, no warning, Tseng would prepare him, and they would join together. Their breath would mingle and the air filled with the sounds of moaning and panting, punctuated occasionally with a growl and gasp as the Turk would claw down Reeve’s chest, leaving behind scratches that were both arousing and alarming to the executive. There would be pleasure, pain, and, for a time, the most beautiful sound Reeve knew of, that of Tseng nearly crooning.

That was all there was these days. All rush, no sweet and tender kisses. They didn’t share anymore. Somehow, the more passionate they became in bed, the less passion was really shared. There was no heated touches between the sheets, no explorations, no whispered words of love and devotion. Well, not from Tseng at least. Given the chance Reeve would have covered every inch of that pure skin in little open mouth kisses. He’d attack those little rosy nipples with teeth and listen to the purrs that they drew from between pearly whites. Those nights he could become drunk on all that was Tseng, and only want more. Those days Tseng would return each attention three times over with such gentle and loving accuracy that Reeve would have sworn he could have melted into Tseng and never regret it. They used to set aside hours just for making love, just for touching with no need for baser gratification. All the pleasure they could ever need or want was in each other’s company, but when they did satisfy the primal needs… gods on high.

While he hated to admit to it, Reeve felt like a fool. He couldn’t remember when making love had given way to sex, and when sex had been shoved aside for fucking. Tseng had always called it ‘making love’ though, and he’d always believed what Tseng said. Odd how that in all of his life he could never be turned into the court jester President ShinRa had wanted, but at one word from Tseng he was dancing around in a silly hat telling stupid jokes. He was chained to the man’s words, actions, desires, so he’d had no reason to question any of it. Who was he to question the man who said he loved him anyway?

For a moment the thoughts and memories and suspicions were wiped away though, as Tseng leaned in to kiss him. Reeve had almost forgotten, for just a minute, how soft and sweet those lips were. There was no time to enjoy the flavor though, as Tseng pulled back for a moment, a playful look upon his face. The look didn’t reach the eyes though, and it was that alone that kept Reeve from being sucked in again. As much as he wanted to spend the whole night abed with his lover, now was not the time.

“Reeve,” the man purred into Reeve’s ear, nibbling at the earlobe before continuing. “We’ve still got all night left for our little vacation. I was thinking we could spend some time alone.”

“Gods Tseng,” he moaned, leaning into the nibbling. So tempting to just give in one more time, feel those fingers burning over his skin, watch those eyes filled with lust for one breath and wonderful moment. He could feel wanted, desired, loved by the man he called lover.

“So is that a yes?”

“No,” he groaned while his body was screaming yes with all it’s might and demanding that it should be heard and obeyed.

The Turk recoiled in shock, but his expression was as cool and collected as ever. Reeve didn’t say no, not to him at least, so his shock was well founded. But Reeve was almost hurt there was no real sign of the surprise. He looked just like he would have had Reeve told him they were currently in Costa Del Sol, or if he’d said Rufus wore white too much.

“No? Playing difficult tonight? Are you looking for a game? I think I brought a few toys from home…”

“No,” Reeve repeated, his voice actually firm. “We need to talk.”

He’d always told himself that he would never use words like that with Tseng. They were damning words, ‘we need to talk’. Wars began with them, empires tumbled, husbands trembled with fear of some chore or lecture. He could remember that the last words he’d heard his mother say to his father was ‘we need to talk’. At eight they hadn’t thought he had a right to any of the words that came after that, and he finally knew why.

“Reeve? Is something wrong?”

Emerald eyes cast about for something to focus on other than Tseng’s face. Finding nothing he sighed, looked up and met the stern gaze of a Turk, not a partner.

“This.”

The word might have carried more weight if there had been silence to accompany it. Any kind of silence. The comfortable silence, the awkward silence, the long silence, the friendly silence, the silence of held breath. Any of them would have suited it all just fine. What didn’t fit was the laughing of children, the call of vendors attempting to sell their wares, and the cat calls that came from a few bodacious females who seemed to be enjoying their little display of intimacy.

“What do you mean?”

How could Reeve explain it? The looks he saw in Tseng’s eyes, the looks that he used to see pointed at him without realizing what they meant. How did he bring up the amount of time Tseng was spending at work instead of at home? There was the wistful sigh that came during their lunches together, and how often Tseng was late for dinner and dates now. How was he supposed to explain the change from their love to their passion? That they once made love all night long and now he was lucky if they fucked for fifteen minutes? Reeve, of course, had figured out what it all meant, but did Tseng even realize what it meant of himself?

“You’re in love Tseng. Madly and deeply in love.”

Finally, a reaction on that elegant face. Bewilderment was more obvious there than it could be if it had been written in big block letters on his forehead.

“Of course I am. I’ve told you that.”

Reeve chuckled and closed the space between them, resting his forehead against that of the Wutain. “Not with me.”

“I don’t understand,” his response came, and there was true confusion in that confident voice.

“I suppose not…”

A kiss was placed upon the small black mark that Reeve had never taken the time to ask about, and he pulled away. “You’ve always given the best of everything to Rufus you know. Your time, your devotion, and your love. I’d always held some childish belief that it was only the feelings of an employee for his boss, or a man for a friend…”

“Reeve…”

“I don’t blame you Tseng. In a way, I’m glad. I’ve never had the best of you, not in any way, but I’ll never have to miss it. And I have faith that you’ll make him happy.”

“Reeve,” Tseng repeated, sounding almost desperate as the man took a step back, out of casual reach, but still easily accessible if he really tried. Problem was that he couldn’t find it in him to bridge that gap. Was Reeve right?

“It’s been a pleasure. I suppose you will be joining Master Rufus when he comes in for that meeting he has scheduled with the WRO next week.”

There was a meek nod and nothing else. Reeve took the chance to turn and walk away.

And so, no sooner had it come than it was gone again. The love suddenly wasn’t right. The way they looked at each other was more sorrowful than meaningful. Lips that once shared the sweetest devotions resolved to do no more than exchange pleasantries. And the faith they’d put into their love was wiped easily away. It had been, after all, just another fling, just another relationship. One among many, no more important than that before it nor after it, except for it was the one that mattered. Maybe not for them, but definitely for him. Because, by having only the mediocre, and all of the worst, at least he could hazard a guess at what the best might have been. Perhaps one day he too might get to have the best of someone, but never of the one he wanted.

eviej_rt @ 2007-03-05T17:31:00

2007-03-05T22:32:05Z

Lookie! Liltigre made me use one of my five Writer's Choice themes. How evil!

Title: Stumble
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Vincent
Prompt: 96, Writer’s Choice
Word Count: 812
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: The famed and honorable Liltigre requested of me, and I can not do aught but obey. She requested of me a story involving one of my favorite muses to fit ‘Walking In My Shoes’ by Depeche Mode. She even went so far as to give me a copy of the song. After I listened to it I realized this song was the perfect background music for any RPG I was playing at the time. But, what it fit most was my lovely muse. So I have done my best to show you why it fits dear Reeve more than Vincent as I suspect people would assume. I do feel as if it wasn’t quite enough though.

Over the years, Reeve had experienced many sorts of pain. He’d had his legs broken, he’d been stabbed, he’d been shot, hell, he’d watched the first Cait destroyed and thrown away his life, past and present, more times than he could count. He’d been in the hospital at least twice for cases of dehydration because he’d overworked himself, and so many stitches had been put in his head that he’d given up keeping track. Two different women had given him back his ring, one divorcing him after a year as the wife of an executive of Shin-Ra, the other when she realized just WHICH Reeve Tuesti he was (not that there was another). There were three men that laid in their graves because of bullets from Reeve’s own gun and he mourned them each morning and each night, even though it was him or them. Hell, he’d even stood by and done nothing really to stop the plate of Sector 7 from being dropped and killing more people that he really wanted to think of. But this… this was a greater pain than he’d ever known.

“What do you know of suffering, Tuesti? Your life has been more pampered than that of Prince ShinRa. Speak not to me of letting things go when you don’t understand them!”

The words hung in the air and the former Shin-Ra yes man could see the moment they were spoken that Vincent almost wanted to snatch them back. Of course, he could also see that little defiant gleam in crimson eyes daring him to prove the former Turk wrong. And to think all he’d said to provoke Valentine’s reaction was to tell him to stop moping around, though in less gentle words.

Despite the fury, the indignation he felt at those words, Reeve was calm, and utterly so. To the right audience it would almost seem as if he were a highly annoyed Tseng, bordering on explosive, while dealing with a particularly suicidal Reno. One who knew him better, or Tseng for that matter, would realize that the total serenity of his face was merely a wall, repressing his desire to shoot the man before him. The pen that had been in his hand was placed so carefully down on the desk that it might have been a piece of paper thin glass, or an ancient parchment from Cetra days that could be broken at the wrong inhalation. With the same care and look of eternal patience he pushed back from the desk and rose, all in one fluid motion.

His path brought him to the door, and he carefully, calmly, told his secretary to reschedule all his appointments for the rest of the day. After that the president of the WRO slowly closed his office door so that it made no sound. Then, before Vincent could even back away or ponder just what was going on, the timid man rounded on him. Next thing the crimson clad man knew, he was laid flat out on the floor and the whole left side of his face was hurting like mad. All he could do was gingerly touch his cheek with his ‘normal’ hand and stare up at Reeve in shock.

The façade of calmness had melted from the man’s face, replaced by the pain, and the fury, and the near hatred had held for the gunner laid out below him. There was no regret there, much less worry for Vincent’s state of health.

“How dare you?” Reeve hissed through clenched teeth. “You, of all people, to say something like that. You’re damn lucky I didn’t do something a bit more lasting.”

The fallen gunner was about to respond when Reeve went so far as to put a foot on his chest.

“I want you to leave Vincent. Leave here, leave me, and don’t come back until you can live with your past like the rest of us. If Cloud can do it, if I can do it, then you sure as hell can.”

With that Reeve removed his foot from Vincent’s chest and returned to his desk. Vincent said nothing as he stood, nothing as he brushed off his clothes, and nothing as he moved to the door.

“Tell me, Reeve, what do you know of suffering?”

There was a bit of a sigh, and the man looked up from his work. “If you tried to walk a mile in my shoes… you’d stumble and fall.”

Those ended up being the last words Reeve would ever give to Vincent.

That night a rogue, former Anti-ShinRa terrorist shot the president of the WRO, claiming him working with the last remaining ShinRa.

Only six beings attended the funeral. The one that really should have been there was not. There was what the others felt to be a weak excuse of ‘walking a mile’ in some shoes or another…

The Home Stretch

2007-03-04T16:45:18Z

Another one, and soon more should be coming.

Title: Red Rain
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Nanaki
Prompt: 70, Storm
Word Count: 499
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: I tell you, my friends have weird tastes…

It was something you could only appreciate here, appreciate now, and it was hard to appreciate without the right background. The storms and rain were just nature to the ones here, but to Reeve, an outsider, he could tell what else it was. Torrents so powerful they were practically washing the red off of the cliffs, lightning strikes so large and loud and close together that they stuck in your mind far longer than they should have been. It was no storm of nature, it was a storm of epic sorts. It was the world’s reaction to the terrible things a brew in the north. Horrible, horrible things.

“Will you be staying here?” came a voice from just behind the man who stared out at the storm. A calm voice, a wise voice, and somehow the voice of a child…

“Midgar needs me,” came the response of the executive. He turned to regard the creature known as Red XIII among the heroes, but ever as Nanaki in his own mind.

“And what of the others? Do they not need you as well?”

Reeve sighed and resumed his seat upon the large rug on the floor. He remembered sitting here often when he was younger, listening to Bugenhagen tell him stories of the old days. Somewhere inside he could not help but feel guilty for letting the man down, for helping Midgar exist.

“Barret would probably have my head on a platter,” Reeve said, his chuckle half-hearted. “The others wouldn’t even want to become involved in a ShinRa spy, even if I am upon their side.”

“You could tell them the truth,” the wiser creature said, rather patient.

Here the man shook his head and turned to look out at the storm once more. “Truth means nothing right now, only survival.”

He rose and stretched a bit. “If you’re going, you best go soon. Can’t have Cloud waiting.”

“Shall I be expecting Cait with me?”

Reeve nodded, “I too have something to fight for Nanaki. Bugenhagen was like a father to me as well. If I cannot protect the city and the people for my own sake, I will protect it for his. I can’t let those innocents die.”

The great red creature, both like a lion and a wolf at the same time, rose and nodded, his tail flicking back and forth. “Do not worry. This WILL work. We cannot afford for it not to.”

There was a silent agreement between them now, and Cait Sith rose without his master’s command to follow the noble creature. Reeve though, he just looked out through the window and watched the rain washing red away from the cliffs. It almost looked like a sea of blood, a sea of sins being washed away. If only his own could be washed away as well… But maybe, maybe that was what would happen, maybe his sins could wash away in this rain. Make him worthy of saving the world. Or at least try to…

75th to be done!

2007-02-04T18:05:23Z

Title: Chronos
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Characters: Reeve, Tseng
Prompt: 54, Air
Word Count: 1,394
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Partner piece to Ananke, kind of assuming that Reeve didn’t kill himself in that. Which he did. Sorry. I just had to give him another ending though.

Chronos was the Greek God of time and about Great-Great-Great-Grandfather to Zeus. He was also the husband of Ananke.

His name was Reeve Tuesti. He was nothing more than a meaningless executive in Shin-Ra Inc. He looked after a city and a people that the higher-ups cared nothing for. Looked after it more than he looked after himself. He'd been honorable and kind, self-sacrificing until the very end. An end few would like to think of, splattered all over the sidewalk because the wind had lied in promises of flight.

That was what they would say, part of his mind shouted, trying to talk him off of the ledge up here on the 70th floor. Of course that part of him was obviously losing, seeing as he hadn't moved an inch, not out of indecision, but out of pleasure. It was amazing really, the feeling of standing here, knowing he was but inches from the end. A rush of excitement flowed through him, and for the first time, he really felt like he could control something in his life. Here the wind kissed away his troubles, caressed his body, and beckoned him into it's gentle hold. Up here, despite the frigid chill, he felt warm. Despite the death before him, he felt alive. He was emptied of all care, all pain, living only in this one split second before the next split second, and for once he really felt alive. Nothing and no one could take it away from him.

Now, why the man was here and so hell bent upon his own destruction was a story for another time and another place. But to put it simply, his heart had been broken, his life rendered nearly meaningless. One might say that his was an everyday tale, and that life would most definitely go on. Yet anyone that went through what he did and so recently, they would think the same things he thought most likely. To be in love and lose it just before he was about to admit it, there was no greater pain.

So he had decided, and here he now stood, but inches from the edge of his end. Time would go on and leave no memory of Reeve Tuesti in it's wake, not even in the minds of other people. It was hardly as if he had been noticed or had any real impact upon the world. No one would miss him, and he wasn't sure if he would miss anyone either. Besides, he would return to the lifestream, according to his beliefs, and there was nothing wrong with that.

"Stop," a voice commanded, cutting through the noise that had blocked even Reeve's own mind from itself.

It was one of those moments you think can only happen in the movies, where time itself seems to stand still. The kind of scene where everything stops and the background music comes to the front and you see just one person reaching out to another. It lasts maybe a few seconds and then the action resumes, something intense or amazing or uplifting happening, but it's really only that one moment you remember. This was what it felt like to Reeve, a moment so right that you have to stop and absorb it before moving on. So he did stop, just as the voice commanded.

"And what," the voice continued, just as powerful, just as confident as before, "Do you think you're doing?"

In all honesty, Reeve wasn't quite sure how to answer that. He could tell the truth, but somehow what he thought to be the truth suddenly didn't sound all that true. Something about 'jumping' just didn't seem to fit, as he wasn't actually jumping at the moment. 'Killing myself' wasn't right either, because while it was his intention, the presence of another seemed to kill his motivation. So he gave the only answer he could think of.

"Waiting..."

"For what?"

There was no right way to answer that question, so Reeve ignored the slight command in that tone of voice, and just continued standing where he was.

"I see..."

Once more the wind kicked up, tugging at the corners of Reeve's coat, begging him to fly free with it. Yet the part of him that wanted that small freedom had died with the presence of the voice. He couldn't find it in himself to want to lose his life any more, but at the same time he couldn't say he wanted it. Right now he wasn't quite sure what he wanted, or why he would want it. The one time he really should be decisive, he was far from such.

"You should come down from there," the voice said, closer now than it had been moments before. Reeve wanted to flinch away, wanted to scare the speaker off, but he knew nothing could do that. So once more he held still, unmoving, unmoved, and breaking inside.

"No."

There was a sigh as the speaker slowly climbed up to join him on the ledge. Suddenly Reeve felt ashamed of his place now, looking away and more towards the stone under him than the city before him. Suddenly he was wondering if he was a coward to want to jump, or brave for not doing it yet. More than anything though, he actually wanted to leave the ledge, but for some reason he couldn't find it in him to move. In fact, he couldn't find very much in him, be it emotion, thought or desire.

"You made quite a scene back there Reeve," Tseng started, the Wutain unaffected by the height or wind, even though it was toying with his hair like a cat does with string.

"Yes, I suppose so," the man agreed, running a hand through his hair.

"Granted, not many people are speaking about it, but those that are..."

The younger man easily cut Tseng off, his voice devoid of any emotions at all, "What does it feel like? Being a Turk?"

Even Tseng was thrown off slightly by such a question. How could one answer something like that for a man that was not only timid, but seemingly naive? Naive and wise beyond his years? Admit the horrors, to say it wasn't too bad?

"Empty," Tseng replied just as easily, "Empty. And lonely."

A smirk touched the lips of the executive, though there was no real emotion behind it, his eyes as cold and empty as Tseng's. A hand rose to rest upon his chest, and he turned just the slightest bit to glance at Tseng. "I... Know that very well."

"People wouldn't think you the sort."

"I was just... so close for once. Something other than fear, other than nerves and cowardice. Maybe I would have been rejected, or even hurt, but it's something other than fear and loneliness."

The silence between them was an easy thing, making seconds stretch into what felt like hours. Apparently here you didn't just feel like you could fly, you felt like time really could continue on forever with you just waiting in one moment. There was no time, no pain, no past or future, only this one moment with them. It was almost beautiful, too, the way Tseng's hand found his and squeezed in that perfectly comforting way. So perfect was the eternity of that moment between life and death that when Tseng guided him from the ledge and back onto the actual balcony, Reeve barely noticed.

When he found himself in Tseng's arm's, held close and given a place to cry on that otherwise perfect shoulder, the magic was broken, and everything came flooding back. Anguish, hatred, self-loathing, longing, hope, despair, all cried out on a steady shoulder of a man who was at least willing to listen. And in Tseng's arms he was at least warm, shielded from the empty promises of the wind that would have lead him to his death.

"Reeve... It would not be like you to throw away a friend like him over something like this. Will killing yourself win him over?"

There was nothing to be said, no way to explain himself, so he just shook his head and stood there, sheltered from the world as long as Tseng would let him. He'd have to face the rest of the world soon enough, just not right now. Just not this second. Right now, for this moment in time, he just wanted to feel like there was still some hope for him.