The Conscience of the King
		Chapter Three: Masters of War

	"All around the table, white-haired men are gathered
	Spilling their sons' blood like table wine
	Remember everything I told you
	Everything in its own time."
			-- Indigo Girls

	Six months.

	It was hard to believe ... it was actually beginning to approach the
level of fucking amazing, Reeve thought, as he gathered up the papers he was
planning on bringing to the board meeting and stacked them neatly in his
briefcase. Yesterday had been his six-month anniversary with the company,
and he was finally, finally beginning to feel like he'd gotten somewhere
with things.

	The reactors, for one. He'd managed to sweet-talk President Shinra into
approving a test-pilot safety system for the Mako reactors, one that was
being tested in Midgar's Number Six and Number Eight even at that very
moment. He'd gone over his predecessor's plans for Midgar itself, made a few
suggestions here and there. Some were ignored, some were shot down -- but
some were quietly implemented, and the pride he got from looking at them was
more than enough.

	And if his personal life was much more confused than his professional
one ... well, who was keeping track?

	It was perhaps a little more accurate to say that his personal life was
much more nonexistent than his professional one. Rufus hadn't been kidding
when he'd warned Reeve that this place was hell. Reeve didn't think he'd put
in a single day that was /under/ 10 hours in the past two months, and no few
of them had been 12- and 14-hour marathons. It hadn't lent itself much to
socialization, not much more beyond an occasional dinner out with one of the
others who worked on his floor -- with the exception of the Friday nights
out with Rufus that had somehow, without him noticing, become a tradition.
He hadn't quite noticed when that had happened, but somehow ... it had.

	He wasn't quite sure what to think about Rufus, not even after six
months of studying him. The man never seemed to be quite the same two days
in a row. One moment he would be cool, distant and businesslike, the next
moment he would be laughing and joking. They'd had some more of the deep,
intense conversations that Reeve was beginning to look forward to, and he
got the strange feeling that he'd seen more of Rufus than the other man had
ever shown to anyone else. He wasn't quite sure why he felt like that -- but
for some reason, Rufus was beginning to come to him when the world got to be
too much for him to bear, to sit on his desk and just talk. And for some
reason, Reeve didn't mind in the least.

	A polite throat-clearing noise interrupted his thoughts, and he looked
up, startled. Tseng stood on the other side of his desk, a faint smirk on
his lips, just studying Reeve with those cool grey eyes. "Lost in thought?"
he asked, his voice marred with the faintest hint of a cool, dry sarcasm.

	Reeve blushed. "Uh ..." was all he managed to say. ~How did he get in
here without me noticing him? Dammit, I hate it when he does that.~ He
hadn't quite managed to relax around Tseng yet; something about the man made
him nervous. Very nervous. 

	"You have a minute?" Tseng could see just how uncomfortable he was
making Reeve, Reeve just knew it. 

	~He likes seeing people squirm,~ the little voice in the back of Reeve's
head insisted. ~He likes seeing that he has this power over people. That's
why you don't trust him, remember?~ "Uh ... yeah, I guess. I've got this
board meeting in five..." He looked down, remembering the briefcase, and
shook off the feeling of being pinned on a hook long enough to dump the next
set of files into it.

	"I know." Tseng dropped into one of the chairs without waiting for an
invitation. He claimed the chair, making it his own with no /overt/ motions
of threat -- just that subtle sense of /wrong/ that seemed to follow him
around. "I just had a few questions. Have you talked with Rufus lately?"

	Reeve blinked; that, he hadn't been expecting. "Uh ... yeah, actually.
We had dinner together last night..." He blushed just a little, thinking of
it; there had been some strange current running through the entire meal,
almost as if Rufus had been ... flirting with him?

	Tseng's eyes narrowed. "Have you noticed him acting strangely lately?"
he asked, abruptly.

	"Uh ... what do you mean, strangely?" Reeve shifted in his chair a
little, wondering if it really was hot in his office or if it was just that
intense gaze.

	"Distant. Cool. Too absorbed in what he's doing, and not enough in his
friends." There was a very soft current of danger in Tseng's words. 

	Reeve could hear it, and he could suddenly feel himself sweating. "Not
that ... I've noticed, no..." he stammered, trying to break his eyes from
the other man's, and failing.

	Again, Tseng's eyes narrowed. The fingers of one hand drummed on the arm
of the chair, casually, the motions of a man who never knew stillness. "You
haven't noticed." It wasn't a question, and it wasn't a statement, really,
either. It was more of an accusation.

	Before Reeve could stop himself, he blurted, "No, I haven't -- seen any
of that. He's been fine with me -- maybe his dad has been on his case
again..." He could have kicked himself the minute the words were out of his
mouth. Especially when Tseng's fingers stilled, and he found himself on the
receiving end of a gaze that he'd hoped never to have to see.

	"He tells you about what happens with his father." Again, it wasn't a
question... and the danger level in the room had increased a thousandfold.
Reeve could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up, and a cold
trickle of sweat ran down his neck.

	~You /have/ done more intelligent things in your life, Reeve,~ the small
voice in the back of his brain informed him. It was overridden by the
hindbrain, the little urge that instructed him to get the /hell/ out of
there and get to /somewhere/ safe -- and right now, even the board meeting
was starting to look like a safe haven. ~Why the /hell/ is he doing this to
me? Why does he care? What is he /thinking/?~ He managed to summon coherence
just long enough to say, "Uh ... yeah, we talk about a lot of things..."

	Tseng's voice was deadly as he just said, simply, "I see." After a
second of silence, which Reeve used to /try/ and regain some of his
composure, he stood. "Don't be late for your board meeting, Reeve." Before
Reeve could react -- or even breathe -- he had left, moving just as silently
as he'd entered.

	~Oh. My. Gods.~ Reeve let out the breath that he felt as if he'd been
holding since he first looked up to notice the man standing there. Slowly,
he slid forward to drop his head on his desk, breathing in careful, measured
inhalations, trying to stop his hands from shaking. He didn't know what had
just happened, but he felt as if he'd been hauled into the spotlight, judged
and measured ... and found wanting. He didn't know why Tseng had been so
hostile towards him, didn't know why Tseng had been so interested, and he
didn't think he wanted to know.

	As he calmed down -- slowly, all too slowly, and not even understanding
why he'd been so panicked in the first place -- a thought crossed his mind
that made him shiver. ~What do I tell Rufus?~

				-- * --

	Of course, it /had/ to be one of those meetings that seemed like it
would not end anytime before the four horsemen of the Apocalypse started
saddling up. Reeve didn't register much of anything important happening in
it, either... another bout of whining from Palmer about why the space
program wasn't going to get more money... more pissing and moaning from
Heidegger about whatever Heidegger had chosen to piss and moan about that
week (Reeve wasn't paying that much attention to what exactly /had/ gotten
the fat git's hackles up that week)... bunch of other stuff that really Did
Not Matter One Bit. Finally, the long-awaited "Dismissed" came from the
President's lips, and in exactly two seconds Reeve was up and out the door.
He made a beeline back toward his office, clawing his tie loose halfway
there. Once he was safe within its confines, he sat heavily on a corner of
his desk and fumbled for a cigarette. All he could think about now was
getting the hell out of the building and back to his nice safe apartment. He
didn't even know what had bothered him so much about the whole incident. It
was just -- something. Something that terrified him, once he was honest
enough to admit it.

	It was a good twenty minutes -- twenty minutes that Reeve used to finish
the cigarette, debate lighting another, and wonder just what Important
Project he was supposed to be living and breathing this week -- later that
the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway outside. Reeve tensed
subtly, wondering ~what next~, then relaxed as he realized that it was
Rufus. And then tensed again, remembering his dilemma as to just /what/ to
tell the other man. 

	Rufus walked directly into the office, as usual shutting the door and
leaning against it as if to keep out the rest of the world, dragging his
fingers through his hair. "I am going to /murder/ that fat --" He stopped,
his eyes finally taking in Reeve's appearance. "What's wrong? You look like
something happened."

	Reeve did light that other cigarette then, and became dimly aware that
he was about to start a bout of chain-smoking. For a moment he just stared
at Rufus, oblivious to the small tremors that were trying to pass through
his hands and make him drop his cigarette onto the rug. "Nothing much," he
finally replied with a little shrug, quickly dropping his eyes from Rufus's
gaze.

	Reeve did light that other cigarette then, and became dimly aware that
he was about to start a bout of chain-smoking. For a moment he just stared
at Rufus, oblivious to the small tremors that were trying to pass through
his hands and make him drop his cigarette onto the rug. "Nothing much," he
finally replied with a little shrug, quickly dropping his eyes from Rufus's
gaze.

	His eyes narrowing just a hair, Rufus headed into the office completely,
dropping into the chair across Reeve's desk -- the same chair that Tseng had
claimed. "No," he said, thoughtfully, "you wouldn't be so shaky if it were
nothing much. What /happened/, Reeve? Did something happen to someone?" His
own anger subsided, momentarily, enough to let his concern shine through.

	With another little shrug -- and a brief thought of ~How can he /see/
these things?~ -- Reeve took a deep drag off his cigarette, exhaling with a
sigh. "Well..." He closed his mouth, sure that what he was about to do was
probably Not A Good Idea. "Before the meeting...I had a visit from Tseng."

	Rufus frowned just a little, fishing out his own cigarettes and reaching
across the desk to filch Reeve's lighter. "And?" he asked, raising an
eyebrow for more information as he tilted his head to light the cigarette.

	"And..." Reeve set the cigarette down in the handy ashtray, no longer
trusting his hands to hang on to it. "I don't think he likes me very much,"
he said simply. "I don't really know what it was all about myself."

	Rufus leaned forward, sensing that there was something more going on
then the surface indicated. "That's not it, is it?" he asked, his eyes
intense. "Or not all of it. Did he threaten you? Did he say something?" He
reached over the table to touch Reeve's shoulder, his grasp almost calming
and reassuring. "You're shaking like a leaf."

	Reeve jumped a little at Rufus's touch, then slowly relaxed his body
again. "No, he didn't threaten me...he was asking me if I'd noticed you
acting strange lately...I just got this feeling like he was accusing me of
something, and I don't even know what."

	Rufus's eyes darkened, just slightly, and he sighed. His grasp on
Reeve's shoulder tensed for just a moment, and then relaxed, falling away as
he sat back in his chair. "God /damn/ it," he swore, under his breath, and
then stood, his cigarette trailing smoke behind him as he paced. "The Shinra
fishbowl," he said, under his breath, and then added something softer,
something Reeve couldn't quite hear. There was an undercurrent of anger in
his voice, none of it directed at Reeve, and he scrubbed a weary hand over
his face. "Don't mind Tseng. He's an asshole at times. He gets paid to be an
asshole professionally, but sometimes he forgets and lets it spill over into
his personal life. And he thinks -- because he -- he practically raised me,
he has some kind of claim over me."

	With a slightly nervous laugh, Reeve picked up his near-forgotten
cigarette and resumed puffing on it. "Right... the fishbowl..." His eyes
began to track Rufus around the office. "It wasn't so much what he said that
shook me up... just the way he looked at me, like he could see right through
me..." He caught himself then -- he wasn't sure what he caught himself about
to do, but he caught himself all the same before anything else on that
subject could come out. "God. I'm a high-strung little prick, aren't I?"

	Rufus shook his head, his eyes darkening again as he looked out over the
cityscape behind Reeve's desk. "No." Almost reluctantly, as if unwilling to
dredge up the memory of a night six months ago -- a night they had, by
mutual unspoken agreement, never discussed -- he added, "Tseng's a dangerous
man. A very dangerous man, and being scared of him is probably a smart idea.
No -- being /wary/ of him is a good idea." He took a drag off his cigarette,
ran a hand through his hair, and growled a little. "And I think I know why
he came to bother you, and I /wish/ I could go call him on it without
letting him know that you'd told me."

	Reeve held up a hand, remembering all too clearly the events of that
night and feeling himself break into a cold sweat once more at the memory.
"No," he said, flatly. "Don't tell him I talked to you about this. I didn't
even want to tell you about it..."

	Turning half-back to face Reeve, Rufus raised an eyebrow. "I know better
than that," he said, his tone a brief rebuke. "I wouldn't dream of doing
anything that would -- well, I just wouldn't." Was it just Reeve's
imagination, or had he started to say 'would put you in danger'? Rufus's
eyes blazed then for half a second, the neon of the city below reflected in
their chilly sapphire depths, and he sighed. "But if it's what I think it
is, I need to deal with it /now/. Damn him."

	Reeve sighed, pulling his legs up onto his desk and crossing them. "I'm
sorry," he said, again looking away from Rufus as a sudden blush crept over
his face for reasons even he wasn't sure of. "I shouldn't have said anything
about it." 

	Rufus shook his head, turning back to Reeve fully. "No. No, don't
apologize, and don't think that you didn't do the right thing. I -- I'd tell
you, but I have a feeling it would scare you off if I did..." He took the
few steps necessary to put himself next to the desk, half-sitting on one of
the few clear spaces, and reached out a hand to tip up Reeve's chin to look
him in the eye. "Are you all right?" His voice was concerned, his eyes
somehow softening as they met Reeve's.

	After a few moments and with great effort, Reeve forced himself to fully
meet Rufus's gaze. And once he did, he wondered why it had been so hard to
do so... in that tiny moment he felt safer than he had in -- well, in a
really long time. He nodded a little, with a small, weak smile. "I'm okay,"
he replied... although he wondered just what Rufus was so reluctant to tell
him.

	Rufus smiled, as their eyes met, and -- as if completely against his
will -- his thumb lightly stroked Reeve's jawline for just half a second.
"If he bothers you again," he said, quietly, "let me know. Will you promise
me that?"

	Before he could stop it, a tiny gasp escaped Reeve's lips. His head
bobbed a bit in a sort of numb little nod. "Okay," he agreed in a small,
soft voice.

	After a moment Rufus let his hand drop. "And don't worry about him. He
won't hurt you, just try to scare you."

	Reeve laughed then, a short burst of weary chuckles. "Well, he did a
fine job of that," he said, his eyes still held to Rufus's even though the
physical contact between them had been broken.

	Rufus smiled, the slow, sweet transformation changing his face into
something truly beautiful. "I know," he said, softly. "If it happens again,
just look him in the eye and tell him to fuck off." Sensing that Reeve was
beginning to calm down about things, he added, "Are you sure you won't tell
me more about what it was about?"

	Reeve gave a little shrug. "Well... that's really about it. After that,
he just told me not to be late to my meeting and stormed off. I didn't know
what the hell to think about it." He laughed a little more. "And that's easy
for you to say... no way in hell am I telling him to fuck off... well, at
least not in so many words."

	Rufus chuckled as well, the warm sound seeming to envelop Reeve.
Abruptly, as if deciding to say it and be damned with it, he said, "He's
jealous."

	"He's WHAT!?" Reeve spluttered. Although he had suspected something of
the sort, he had not expected to hear it in such blunt terms, especially not
from Rufus.

	Laughing just a little -- and not at Reeve, but more at himself -- Rufus
repeated, "He's jealous... I haven't been spending much time with him
lately." He shifted on the desk, just a little. "I find your company
infinitely more -- stimulating."

	Reeve couldn't help but blush at those words. "Thanks," he replied, a
bit sheepishly. 

	Rufus smiled again, his teeth flashing briefly. "Don't thank me for the
truth," he said, his eyes still not leaving Reeve's. "And don't thank me for
getting you into this situation."

	"Okay." Reeve returned the smile. "Then I'll thank you for calming me
down before I decided to gnaw a leg off my desk or something."

	Rufus actually laughed at that, his head falling back for a minute. "All
right. That, I'll accept. You've certainly done it for me enough times." He
made a wry face.

	Reeve shrugged a little, clearly embarrassed by that admission from
Rufus. "It's nothing," he replied with a little smile. "I--I don't mind."

	Smiling just a little, Rufus nodded. "I know you don't. And I appreciate
it. I--" He frowned as his pager went off, and when Reeve's followed it a
second later, a curse was drawn from his lips. Reading the little display,
however, he growled -- burning there was the unavoidable summons: 'Report
upstairs ASAP for briefing. Urgent.' "Fuck," he ground out. "What the /hell/
could be this important?"

	Reeve also checked his pager, although he knew it would be bitching
about the same thing, and when he confirmed this he rolled his eyes. "Didn't
we just get OUT of a damn meeting!?"

	Rufus's face had settled down into the work mask once more, all signs of
his momentary tenderness gone. "If it's cutting into Mein Fuhrer's weekend
recreation," he said, grimly, "it's gotta be bad."

	With a sigh, Reeve nodded and scooped up his briefcase from where he had
dropped it. That done, he plodded out the door and down the hall to the
elevator.

	Rufus followed, his long strides keeping him at Reeve's side easily,
threatening to overtake him. "Welcome to Shinra," he said, under his breath,
"where your life just isn't profitable on company time. And it's always
company time..."

	The two men rode the elevator in silence, each absorbed in his own
thoughts. Whatever those thoughts might have been was quickly discarded,
however, when they saw what awaited them outside the doors of the boardroom.

	The figure standing there, dirty and bloodstained, was more than
passingly familiar to Rufus; Reeve knew him only from reputation. The long,
silver hair -- tangled and matted, now -- was a dead giveaway; the emerald
eyes that flew immediately to the two as the elevator doors opened spoke to
his identity. Sephiroth, general of SOLDIER, one of the most feared and
respected men on the planet, leaned on his sword (trying not to show his
weariness) and waited for the leaders of Shinra to assemble.

	"Dear Gods," Rufus murmured, at Reeve's side, and crossed the space
between the elevator and the door with a few quick strides. His voice was
low, pitched only for Sephiroth's ears, as he reached out a hand to grasp
the general's elbow, offering wordless support to the man he hadn't seen in
months. "Good God, man, you look like you're about to fall over. What in the
name of Ramuh was so important that you had to come up here and brief us
before at /least/ a shower and a meal?"

	As Reeve came up behind them, Sephiroth gave Rufus the faintest hint of
a smile, cool reserve holding back the gratitude for the concern from a man
he'd helped to teach. "Good evening, Rufus," he said, with his usual sober
courtesy. "There was no time. I commandeered the first helicopter I could
find to return; this news is too important to trust to the radio relays."
His eyes flickered over to Reeve, and then returned back to Rufus, a
question in them.

	Rufus brushed away the concern without even really acknowledging it.
"Sephiroth, this is Reeve Brannon, the new head of urban dev. He's here for
the meeting. Reeve, this is Sephiroth, general of SOLDIER. He helped teach
me tactics and strategy." Introductions taken care of, he returned his gaze
to Sephiroth. "Things must be /bad/ if you didn't even take time for a
shower. And what's wrong with the relays?"

	Sephiroth's look was grim. "I am afraid, Rufus, that I can no longer
guarantee that our transmissions are secure." He shook his head, slightly,
as if to soften the blow. "We have persisted in thinking of the Wutaians as
simply a fractured rebel group. The news I have might change that
perception."

	Rufus swore, blisteringly. "This is /not/ what I want to hear,
Sephiroth," he said, his face equally grim.

	Reeve held up a hand, feeling awkward and small for interfering. "I ...
Excuse me, can someone tell me what's going on?" He kicked himself when both
men turned to him, their expressions equally set in stone.

	Rufus was the first one to recover, lifting his eyes to the ceiling
briefly. "Right. You haven't really been in on any of the meetings. We're at
war with Wutai, you may have heard some of the company propaganda even if
Dad glosses over it in the meetings." He waited for Reeve's nod to continue.
"The /real/ version of things behind all the patriotic garbage is that they
don't like our way of doing business, and have been guerilla-sniping us for
the past ... oh, five years. It's only hit the news channels recently, and
we've been trying to keep it /quiet/, since it's not very flattering. We've
been suffering some heavy losses lately, not that you'd be able to tell it
from any of the official news. Sephiroth's been on the front lines." His
tone was brief, clipped -- trying to bring Reeve up to speed in thirty
seconds or less. "Seph, what the hell happened out there?"

	Sephiroth shook his head. "I cannot summarize it in the few minutes we
have before the meeting," he said, weary enough to drop his usual dignity
and scrub a dirty hand across an equally dirty face. Reeve got the feeling
that, for this man, standing in front of people /this/ filthy and obviously
world-weary was a torment. "Suffice it to say that the situation is not
looking very good at all. We have spent all this time thinking that the
Wutaian resistance was a group of scattered rebels, working by themselves
and not communicating at all. The battle we fought this morning indicates
this not to be the case."

	Reeve's eyes were wide, trying to take this all in. "All .. all right,"
he said, his voice low. "I... I think I'm gonna go and grab a seat ... I'll
see who we're still missing." Without waiting for confirmation, he slipped
around the two other men and entered the boardroom, his mind whirling. ~So
it's not just a few random rebel skirmishes, is it. The news stories haven't
exactly been helpful ... if Sephiroth is back here, and looking like that,
something really big must have happened. What the hell /could/ have
happened? This is a /power/ company, why the hell do we need to be fielding
an army, anyway. I feel so out of the loop.~  He nodded to the president,
sitting at the head of the table and not looking very pleased at all as he
spoke with Scarlet. ~And with all this tension, I feel like I've stumbled
into a den of snakes. Dammit, I did /not/ need this today... not after this
afternoon...~

	Outside the boardroom, Rufus turned back to Sephiroth. "I know you
probably don't want to go through this twice," he said, his tone low and
intent, "but I need to know how bad things are. My father has not been
thinking all that clearly lately." He sighed, his eyes echoing Sephiroth's
fatigue. "How much of a battle are we likely to have in there?"

	Sephiroth shook his head. "If the president is unwilling to listen," he
said, summoning strength from his inner reserves of calm, "then it is likely
to become ugly. We lost fully a quarter of our troops today, Rufus, injured
or worse. We were completely unprepared for the attack. We need
reinforcements, and we need a clear directive, lest something like this
happen again." 

	Rufus swore again. "What the hell -- no, nevermind. Let's get you inside
and /sitting down/, and you can brief all of us at once. And then you need
/sleep/."

	Summoning a ghost of a smile, Sephiroth nodded. "I will concede that
point without argument," he said, softly. "However, I do believe that the
shower will win out first."

	Rufus laughed just a little, a soft bark that held little amusement, and
nodded. "I don't think I blame you," he said, and one careful hand reached
up to brush a lock of hair out of Sephiroth's eyes with the ease of long
familiarity. "I don't think I blame you at all. Here." He dug a handkerchief
out of one of his jacket pockets. "You go and get cleaned up a little bit in
the men's room. It'll take a few more minutes to drag Hojo out of his lair,
anyway. You'll feel better, and it's better for impact if you come in late,
anyway."

	Sephiroth nodded, and then dropped dignity further to lean against Rufus
for one brief moment, when he was certain that no one else was looking. "All
right," he agreed, quietly, and took the proffered square of cloth. "I shall
see you indoors."

				-- * --

	Sephiroth sat at the foot of the boardroom table, his hands folded in
front of him neatly, and simply waited. Reeve, though he had only met the
man moments before, could guess at just how much the patient expression on
his aristocratic face cost him. "If you all will forgive me," he finally
said, his cultured tones cutting through the din at the table with just a
hint of force. "I am no more fond of being here this late than the rest of
you, but the news I have is vital."

	Slowly, the conversations all broke off, one by one, as heads swiveled
to look at Sephiroth. Rufus's eyes met Reeve's across the table, and he gave
a little bit of a wry smirk, as if to say, ~I wish we could have him here to
do that /all the time/.~ Reeve smiled back, though his mind was still on
what precisely could be so wrong.

	Just as Sephiroth was beginning to continue, the door hissed open again
and another figure entered, pushing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses up his
nose as he moved to his seat at the table, a seat that was left empty more
often than not. "What the hell is so important that it dragged me out of the
lab, Jonathan?" snapped Hojo irritably as he shot the president a quelling
look.

	Reeve couldn't quite help but shiver -- there was something definitely
off about the man, and the less he had to do with him, the better. Sephiroth
fielded the interruption magnificently, however, simply raising one eyebrow
and commenting, lightly, "I am about to reveal that, sir."

	Hojo looked down the table, taking in the figure of the SOLDIER for the
first time. The only reaction he revealed was a slight widening of the eyes,
as he saw just how bedraggled Sephiroth truly was; he nodded slightly, as if
to say "go ahead". The president shifted in his chair, and snapped out,
"Yes, Sephiroth, just what /is/ so important about what happened today?"

	Sephiroth inclined his head towards the president and shifted slightly,
ready to begin. "I will not insult your intelligences by recapping the
current Wutaian situation in depth. The Shinra barracks outside of the
capital city has been under infrequent attack, seemingly from guerrilla
forces that protested, as always, Shinra's involvement with the local
culture and customs. We have been unable to determine the base of such rebel
operations, and have suspected that the town itself has been responsible for
sheltering them, but have had no confirmation."

	Waiting to see that everyone at the table understood the ramifications
of his words, Sephiroth continued. "This morning, at 0630 hours, the
barracks was disrupted by an explosion. It was quickly determined that the
armory was the primary target; the nighttime security had grown lax,
anticipating a quiet day due to the fact that today was the Wutaian New
Year's celebration. Base forces, when dispatched to inspect the scene of the
explosion, lost communication with the main command center within moments.
When reinforcements arrived, they walked into a slaughter."

	The cool, reserved tones shadowed the horror of the scene as Sephiroth
looked around the table, meeting the eyes of each board member in turn. "The
battle lasted for several hours. The forces that we were fighting were more
well-equipped and well-trained than any we have seen from the country thus
far; it was clear that we were not dealing with scattered rebels and
malcontents the minute that I arrived. I personally dispatched at least two
members of what I believe to be the assassin clan. Our forces prevailed,
with heavy casualties, after several hours of battle. When we inspected the
bodies of what we believe to be the leaders, we found these."

	Sephiroth reached into his cloak and pulled out a small piece of
electronic equipment, what looked to be something like a walkman with
companion earpiece. He reached forward and placed it on the table, clicking
one of the knobs as he did so. Into the stunned silence of the room came the
clear and unmistakable sound of Shinra's army radio channel, a cacophonous
babble of orders and briefings. "Lady and gentlemen," Sephiroth said,
calmly, "our codes have been cracked, and Wutai is listening."

	The silence lasted for another moment before it exploded.

	It took a good fifteen minutes before anyone could be understood over
the shouting, and another five before some sort of order could be restored.
Everyone seemed to have his or her own opinion, and wanted to make that
opinion known as loudly as possible; the din was impossible to understand.
Reeve just sank back and watched the proceedings, with the sort of horrified
fascination that one encounters in the people who are driving by a train
wreck -- angry at themselves for /wanting/ to look, but at the same time,
unable to wrench their eyes away.

	It was Rufus's voice that finally prevailed through the tumult, as he
stood and leaned his hands on the table -- his face reddened, his voice
somehow powerful and striking despite not being raised much above a
conversational level. "With respect, /sir/," he said, his eyes intent on his
father's face, "don't you think that this would be an excellent time to
re-think our strategy for dealing with Wutai? It's clear that the situation
is much different than we had been working with; it seems time to go back to
the drawing board."

	Reeve could barely see, out of the corner of his eye, the look on
Scarlet's face as she watched Rufus; predatory, sly, like a kitten faced
with a bowl of cream. The president struck the table with his closed fist,
sending a percussive wave all the way down to the other end, and growled
out, "No one asked you for your opinion, Rufus. It's clear that you don't
know the whole of what's going on here, and I'll thank you to keep out of
things that don't concern you."

	Rufus's chin came up, his features taking on a proud cast. "I'd say that
I know as much as anyone else in this room, saving perhaps the general," he
said, coolly. "And I'd also say that I'm able to look at the whole situation
reasonably and rationally -- which is something that is /obviously/ in short
supply here."

	Attempting to take advantage of the momentary calm, Heidegger's voice
carried over the table. "--full-scale attack that we could launch tomorrow
morning, Jonathan, all you had to do would be to say the word --"

	Rufus whirled. "Are you listening to what I'm saying?" he snapped,
letting his temper fray just a bit. "Now, Heidegger, I know that you just
want to get out there and kick some Wutaian ass -- we /all know/ how you
feel about them, hmm?" Heidegger had the good graces to blush. "What good
would bombing them back into the stone age bring? Correct me if I'm wrong
here, /father/, but I thought that the point of our whole strategy in Wutai
was to eliminate the rebel resistance so that we would have an open market
for our services. The last time I checked, people who are nothing more than
a pile of slightly glowing ash do not have much use for cars, computers,
aircraft, or even electricity!" The faint stresses in his tone worried
Reeve; it felt almost as if he were about to crack.

	The president's voice did some cracking of its own as he once more
slammed his fist against the table. "That is /more/ than enough, Rufus!" he
snapped. "I've made my decision. Sephiroth, I'm sending you another
battalion of troops. I want those rebels taken out, and I want them taken
out now. Spare no effort to bring them into line. As for the rest of you, I
expect your full and unconditional support, as always. We will meet back
here tomorrow at 1800 hours to go over the news reports for the day." He
ignored, as if it had never happened, the fact that Wutai was listening to
those reports; perhaps it simply did not fit into the tiny worldview he'd
built for himself. "Meeting dismissed!" he rapped out, and rose.

	It took a few moments before the others stirred; the president's words
had affected each of them differently. Palmer and Heidegger were the first
ones to go; Palmer oozing off no doubt to the kitchen, in search of a
late-night snack, Heidegger stalking off to his office to review the troop
rosters and decide how best to handle the situation. Scarlet was next,
trailing one hand idly over Rufus's shoulders as she passed him; she did not
notice the look of disgust he gave her, though Reeve did. Hojo spoke a few
words to Sephiroth, then turned and left; finally, Reeve found his feet
beneath him and stood. He cast a glance to Rufus -- ~should I wait and see
if he's coming, too?~ -- but Rufus didn't quite see it; it was clear he was
trying to calm down, and probably wanted to talk to his father again. After
a few seconds, Reeve sighed internally, and left the room. He did not hear
the argument that broke out instantly behind him.

				-- * --

	Something sat in the ashtray on Reeve's desk near his right hand. It had
probably been a cigarette at one point; now it was roughly a three-inch
length of ash. Reeve himself sat in the chair, jacket and tie long since
gone and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, trying to force his brain to
assimilate the information he was digging up on the war -- information it
simply did not want to accept. ~I had no idea it was this bad... no idea at
all... I hadn't wanted to look ... what the fuck are we doing!?~ 

	The computer terminal was singularly unresponsive, and Reeve tried to
drag his mind into something resembling coherent thought yet again. Once
more, he failed, as the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway
outside ... footsteps that were much, much less graceful than usual. The
outer door to Reeve's suite slammed open, hard enough to leave a mark in the
wall no doubt. ~Who the hell...~

	The inner door followed suit, with a crash that was loud enough to
rattle the glasses on the bar. Slamming the door behind him, Rufus leaned on
it as if for strength; his hair covered his eyes and most of his down-turned
face, and his chest heaved as if he was trying to catch his breath. He did
not speak.

	Reeve stood up from the chair, eyes wide and jaw hanging just a little
open. For long moments he simply stood there gaping at Rufus. He remembered
how heated the meeting and the discussion afterward had become, and now he
feared the worst. Questions bubbled around in his head, but when Reeve found
his voice again, all that came was Rufus's name, barely whispered.

	Rufus's head jerked up, like a wolf scenting prey. His eyes burned,
something indefinable lingering in their usually-cool sapphire depths, and
they fixed unerringly on Reeve. Standing out in sharp relief against his
cheek was a reddened mark, rapidly fading towards a bruise, but that was
less distressing than the /look/ in his eye. "If I were any less of a
controlled man," he gritted out, even his voice cracking underneath the
strain, "I would kill him."

	The sight of Rufus was almost too much for Reeve to stand --the angry
red mark across his cheek, the look in his eyes -- and somewhere in the
depths of Reeve's own eyes, a dark, malevolent shadow flickered for barely a
second, and then was gone. The momentary rage was replaced almost
immediately by concern and fear, and carefully Reeve picked his way out from
behind his desk to stand in front of his friend. "What happened?" he asked,
softly.

	Rufus took a deep breath, trying to calm down, knowing just how much the
sight of his anger disturbed Reeve. "The fucker decked me," he growled, the
control of his temper eroding hair-thin. "He decided that /logic/ was too
much for him..."

	"...Your father?" Reeve queried, reaching up to lay a cautious hand on
Rufus's arm.

	Rufus jerked his arm away from Reeve's touch, whirling to pace a
controlled little area -- four steps one way, four the other, the tension
sheeting off him in waves. "Yes," he snarled, "my /father/. I stayed to try
and convince him for the millionth time that I knew what I was talking about
... I should have /known/ better..."

	Reeve's mouth closed then, his teeth grinding together for a moment as
that same dark shadow reappeared in his eyes. "Son of a /bitch/," he finally
ground out, and then he made for the bar to pour Rufus a drink, his own
anger betrayed by the slamming of the bottle on the bar's surface and by the
shaking of his hands as they poured the drink. "Here," he offered with a
sigh, holding out the glass. "Sit down and drink this."

	Rufus's shoulders were tense as he paused in his pacing, his back to
Reeve, looking out over the city. After a second, he turned again, his
motions one step closer to unguarded than Reeve had ever seen them before,
and picked up the glass. His eyes didn't leave Reeve's face as he downed it,
then slammed the glass down on the bar so hard that Reeve feared for its
life. "If I sit," he said, his voice beginning to tremble ever so slightly,
"I will explode. Is it /too much to ask/ for my /own father/ to concede that
I have two brain cells to rub together!" His voice was a roar, more in anger
than in sorrow, as he turned away from Reeve once more. "People are getting
/killed/ because that old fat fuck doesn't have the dick to admit when he's
wrong!"

	Reeve sat down on the sofa instead and wiped a hand across his eyes.
"God /damnit/," he sighed, shaking his head and flicking his eyes back to
the file displayed on his terminal. At that distance, the words were nothing
more than fuzzy little black lines, but an embedded graphic was still
clearly visible and Reeve was sure it would be making a guest appearance in
a future nightmare. "How long has it been this bad?"

	Rufus jerked his head over to look Reeve in the eye again, his own eyes
narrowed and fiery. "The war? Months. We just found out, of course, because
my father didn't see it fit to /inform/ us of the fact. Sephiroth flew back
here to force him to confront the fact in front of the rest of the board,
and the man looks like he's half an inch from dropping. Fuck." He looked
back out at the city. "If Seph hadn't been there to hold me back, I would
have killed him. I would have. And I think that the only thing that kept
Seph from letting me do it was that he didn't want to think of what that
would do to me." Another snarl crossed his face; the bruises on his
shoulders where Sephiroth had held him back from lunging at his father began
to twinge. "God /damn/ it to Hades, I am /sick/ of this shit!"

	A small noise of disbelief escaped Reeve's lips, and he shook his head.
"Shit," he murmured, staring at the floor and carefully avoiding Rufus's
eyes. "How the hell does he expect us to back him when he won't even tell us
what the fuck's going on!?"

	The small laugh that was torn from Rufus was an ugly sound, with no hint
of true amusement. "He doesn't /want/ backing," he growled, "he wants a
bunch of people who smile and nod and tell him how brilliant he is. God
/damn/ it!" With those last few words, as his pacing brought him into range,
he turned and slammed his hand into the wall, a full-palmed punch.

	The impact brought forth a jump and a little yelp from Reeve, and it
took every bit of composure he had to keep from drawing up into a ball on
the couch. His eyes stayed trained on Rufus's feet, and his breathing
quickened just a bit. He was sure he was shaking like a leaf, but he /would
not/ show just how scared he was.

	Rufus turned around, his back once more to Reeve, somehow not noticing
-- or was it not caring -- Reeve's fear. "And it's not just on this
'conflict' -- god, why can't they just call it what it is, wholesale fucking
slaughter -- Have you ever, ever seen him take someone else's advice, even
if he /knew/ that he knew /nothing/ about the situation --" His voice was
rising again, his words clipped and strangled with rage. "This place is
rotten, Reeve, rotten right through!"

	Reeve opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He stood
up, slowly, and walked toward Rufus. Even though the other man was scaring
the living shit out of him, he just /knew/ somehow that Rufus wouldn't take
it out on him -- ~how can I know that?~ -- and once more he reached out to
lay a gentle hand on Rufus's arm. "Rufus--"

	Rufus's skin felt electrified, almost feverish, under Reeve's fingers;
Rufus himself didn't seem to notice it. He didn't shake off Reeve's hand,
this time, but didn't move any closer. "I am /sick/ of being made to feel
like I'm a brainless little fuck just because my old man doesn't trust the
education /he/ sent me for, I'm sick of having to watch my back with
everything I do -- sick of never knowing who's watching, sick of never
knowing who's trying to get something out of me and who just wants to be my
friend -- sick of this whole fucking place..." His voice climbed steadily
back towards the roar, his eyes blazing, the growing bruise on his cheekbone
beginning to stand out even more as his skin flushed with his anger.

	Reeve winced at Rufus's words, and his hand tightened reflexively on
Rufus's arm. ~Does he think I--~ He wanted more than anything to tell Rufus
he /did/ want to be his friend, he /did/ care for him, he /wasn't/ just
trying to see what he could get... but all that came out was a soft choked
noise.

	Rufus's eyes fixed onto Reeve's, something well within their depths
seeming to spark. "And to top it all off," he finished, his voice dropping
to a growl, "I am sick to death of this fucking tension between the two of
us." Without waiting for a response, he tangled a hand in the hair at the
nape of Reeve's neck, yanking his head back and claiming Reeve's lips for
his own.

	"Mph--" Reeve's eyes opened wide in shock, and his entire body tensed in
Rufus's grip. After a moment, his eyes drifted closed and his muscles
relaxed, although he had no idea why. The hand on Rufus's arm tightened just
a bit more, and all he could think was ~ohmygod...~

	The kiss was not tender, nor was it gentle; it was a swift assault on
the senses, performed by a master. After a few seconds, the rough demand
altered, as Reeve's lips parted involuntarily; Rufus's tongue tangled with
his, the hand at the nape of Reeve's neck holding him close in an almost
bizarrely protective manner. Just as Reeve was beginning to recover from the
initial shock and confusion, just as he was beginning to wonder whether or
not he should be enjoying himself, Rufus broke the contact, his chest
heaving for breath, his eyes tracking up to hold Reeve's. A barely repressed
passion shone there, and Rufus turned away with a muttered curse.

	Reeve stepped back, one hand rising involuntarily to press fingertips to
his lips, as if he still wasn't sure that what had just happened /had/
happened. His eyes were wide in disbelief as he watched Rufus move away.

	Rufus's shoulders were tense, his face in sharp profile as he looked
away from Reeve, his mouth twisting at the expression on Reeve's face. "I
knew I shouldn't have come down here like this," he growled, lowly.

	"W--wait--" Reeve found himself rooted to the spot in which he stood,
his hand again reaching out to Rufus against his will. "I-- "

	Rufus snarled something incoherent, his eyes more dangerous than they'd
ever been before -- the sort of danger that's directed inward, the sort of
torturous self-loathing of one who has just broken his own word to himself.
Without another word, he turned on his heels and stalked out of Reeve's
office, leaving the taste of him behind on Reeve's lips. The outer door
slammed once more, as Rufus left the way he'd entered.

	Reeve watched Rufus go, his eyes still wide and disbelieving. A few long
moments after he was left alone, he sat down heavily on the sofa and dropped
his head into his shaking hands. ~Did that...did that just happen...oh
god...~

	He spent a few hours in his office after Rufus left, staring out the
window but not really seeing much of the scenery below. ~Oh gods...did he
really--did I imagine that--~

	But he knew he had /not/ imagined that kiss.

	He could still feel the ghost of Rufus's touch -- the hand gripping the
back of his neck, the demanding pressure of Rufus's mouth on his. The event,
remembered with both his mind and his body, persisted in confusing the hell
out of him.

	And a lot of things began to come together.

	The looks. The teasing. The occasional touch, light and casual, but
always electric. The way that Rufus always seemed to be looking at him, even
when nowhere near him. That kiss. All of it.

	Rufus wanted him. And -- and he didn't know if he wanted --

	~Oh God.~

	Drifting in the undercurrent was a half-formed but very real fear -- he
/knew/ Rufus would never do him any harm, physical harm at least -- but the
wild and apparently random changes in Rufus's demeanor were something he had
seen once before.

	And those memories were not at all pleasant.

	After a while Reeve decided he would probably -- no, scratch that,
/definitely/--not be able to get much more done in the "work" department in
his state of mind. He packed up his things, rode the elevator down to the
parking garage, got into his little car, and headed for home.

	In the lobby of his building was a small convenience store (this
particular building had more of the same on every tenth floor as well), and
on the way up to his apartment Reeve made a pit stop for a six-pack,
something to eat, and a newspaper whose headline screamed "Victory in
Wutai!"

	On second thought ... no newspaper today. Reeve let out a small
disgusted noise upon reading the headline, but made no further comment.
Well, at least the PR people were happy; they had plenty to do.

	He did not know it, but back at the Shinra building, Rufus was sweating
under a rack of weights and cursing himself for being six kinds of a fool.

				-- * --

	It was late. Too late. Reeve had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn in
the morning for work, and he knew it would be a Bad Idea in the extreme to
stay up much longer... but every time he lay down and closed his eyes, it
happened all over again. He saw the angry red mark marring Rufus's smooth
cheek... heard Rufus's enraged snarls and roars... felt the demanding
pressure of Rufus's lips on his own. After a few tries, Reeve simply said
"fuckit" and got up.

	And as if someone had been reading his mind, as if someone had been
watching his thoughts, just as he padded into the kitchen, a knock sounded
in the silence of the apartment -- a soft, almost hesitant knock.

	Reeve looked up toward the sound and made a confused little grunting
noise. "What..." He padded toward the door in his pajamas and peered through
the peephole in the door.

	Rufus stood in the hallway, clad in a pair of old and faded sweatpants
and a t-shirt that looked to be half a size too small. His face was almost
contrite, almost human, as he waited patiently for any sign of response from
within.

	Reeve didn't even hesitate; he simply clicked open the bolts and
unlocked the door. As he was beginning to open his mouth to ask Rufus how
he'd gotten past the security guard in the lobby, how he'd managed to
operate the penthouse elevator that took a separate key to turn on, Rufus
simply held up one hand to stop him.

	"I've got something to say, and all I'm asking is that you don't say a
word until I'm done saying it. Can I come in?"

	This time, there was a hesitation -- just a bare instant, but it was
there. Reeve nodded, slowly, and stood aside; Rufus slipped through the door
and shut it behind him, leaning against the doorframe. It was a common
position for him, Reeve thought, crazily; as if he wanted to be as close to
the door as possible, ready to bolt any minute. Or ready to defend everyone
else in the room from whatever was about to come charging through it. Or
ready to keep whoever was in the room from escaping.

	"I came to apologize," Rufus started, flatly. "I wanted to apologize for
scaring the shit out of you, and I wanted to apologize for confusing you and
frightening you. I haven't apologized to anyone in nearly ten years, but I
came here tonight to apologize to you." He looked up at the ceiling, rather
than at Reeve; his hair shielded his eyes again. "I should know better than
to be anywhere near anyone when I'm that angry, and it's one thing that I
haven't learned by now. I keep lashing out at anyone and anything who's
there, and this time you caught the brunt of it, and I wanted to apologize." 

	He took a deep breath, as Reeve stood still, barely believing his ears.
"I know what you're going to say, what you're thinking. You're going to say
that I shouldn't be alone when I'm that angry; that I should go find
someone, and talk it over, or something. And it's been working over the past
few months, believe me. But when I'm that angry, when I'm that far gone -- I
come so close to just /destroying/ things. And every time I see it
happening, I can feel the control slipping further away, coming closer to
snapping. I see it, and I know you see it, too. And I know it reminds you of
something you don't want to remember. No, be quiet, I'm not done yet." Reeve
had barely begun to open his mouth, but he stopped, not wanting to interrupt
Rufus's monologue. 

	"I'm no prize, Reeve," Rufus continued, softly. "I drink too much and I
smoke like a chimney and I've inherited the old man's temper and the old
man's stubbornness, and I haven't been doing a damn sight much to try and
overcome them. But I promise you, no matter how far gone I am, no matter how
far I've lost my temper, no matter how blind and stupid with rage I happen
to be -- I promise you, I'm never going to do anything to hurt you." And
then, he did finally look back at Reeve, and Reeve felt his heart break at
the look in Rufus's eyes. There, finally, was the lost child that Rufus had
once been, staring out at him from the grown man's eyes. "And I wanted you
to know that."

	The silence grew between them; Reeve didn't know what to say, what he
could possibly say. Another few strained moments, and Rufus just said,
quietly, "Dammit, say something. Anything."

	"I --" Reeve stopped, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. Daring, he
lifted his fingertips to Rufus's cheek, where the angry red mark had begun
to fade to a deep purple. "Does that still hurt?"

	Something shifted in Rufus's face, rearranged itself; left him looking
quieter, more peaceful, less tormented. "Like a bitch," he said, softly, and
offered up a little smile, wincing when it pulled the skin over the bruise.
"The old fat fuck got a good shot in. I wasn't expecting it, not at all."
His head inclined ever so little at Reeve's touch, leaning into it
gratefully.

	With a little nod and a soft pat on Rufus's shoulder, Reeve stood up and
returned to the kitchen. A few moments later, he came back to the couch
holding a plastic sandwich bag full of crushed ice and a washcloth to wrap
the ice in. "Here," he offered, and indicated the couch. "Sit down. Try
this." He paused. "And -- it's okay. It really is."

	The faintest of smiles lingered on Rufus's lips as he strode across the
room and flopped onto the couch. "Thanks. I'm surprised it hurts this much
... it can't be any worse than any of the lovetaps Tseng's given me in
hand-to-hand training..." He rested the icepack against his cheek, wincing
/ever/ so slightly again. "It's just ... this is the first time he's ever
hit me. Ever. And I -- I almost hit back, the reflexes took over ..."

	Reeve sighed heavily, resting his hand on Rufus's shoulder. "If you only
knew how much that pissed me off..." He chuckled, softly, without humor. "I
tried hitting back once... but I was a hell of a lot smaller than you are...
it didn't quite work the way I hoped it would --" He looked up suddenly and
clammed up, embarrassed that he'd let that much slip.

	Rufus gave Reeve a sidelong glance, smiling just a little as the
conclusions he'd drawn from several drunken nights and a lot of careful
observation were proven true -- but it, too, was a smile without humor.
"Yeah, well, if I'd hit him, with what I know, I'd've killed him. And
Sephiroth probably would have killed me." He reached out, hesitantly, and
touched Reeve's knee, lightly. "And you don't have to worry about talking.
It goes no further."

	"I know." Reeve let his hand drop from Rufus's shoulder, and on its way
down his fingertips brushed the back of Rufus's hand. "I shouldn't be
dumping on you right now... God knows you've put up with enough bullshit for
one day." He looked back at Rufus and sighed softly. "Is Sephiroth doing
okay? He looked like hell in that meeting."

	Rufus laughed just a little, but it felt more like a forced chuckle.
"He'll be fine. He always is. A shower and a good night's sleep, and he'll
be good as new; I swear, that man is a superhuman." He reluctantly lifted
his hand from Reeve's knee, pushing his hair back once more. "Has the
strength of one, too. I thought he was going to dislocate my arms, holding
me down."

	Reeve looked up again, meeting Rufus's eyes. "I'm sorry it went so bad
on there... I know it's not worth much coming from me, but I'm so sorry..."

	A curious look. "Why do you say that it's not much?"

	"Because I know it's not me that you want to hear apologize," Reeve
responded, softly.

	"No, you're right," Rufus said, ruefully. "But .. hearing any sort of
sympathy from anyone is ... is so unusual that it's automatically
appreciated..." He sighed. "Tseng just keeps telling me that I have to stop
baiting him, and that's the closest I get to talking about it with anyone." 

	"Anyone except me," Reeve said, as if talking to himself... just an
observation, nothing more.

	Rufus looked up, his eyes a little startled as they meet Reeve's, and
then he smiled again -- this time, almost warmly. "Anyone except you," he
agreed, with a nod. "I don't -- I don't understand it. I guess it's just
because you understand."

	"I know it hurts," Reeve says again, once more reaching up to rest a
hand on Rufus's shoulder. "And it... hurts me to see you going through
it..."

	Rufus sighed, leaning back against the sofa and closing his eyes again
-- perhaps so that he wouldn't have to see the look in Reeve's eyes. "I
know," he said, softly. "And I know that I scare you, and confuse you, and I
wish --" He broke off, then resumed, "I wish none of this had ever happened.
To either of us. But then again, wishes have never come true, have they?"

	Reeve shrugged. "Sometimes they do," he offered, though there seemed to
be no elaboration on that forthcoming.

	Rufus opened his eyes, searching out Reeve's honey eyes with sapphire
ones that were beginning to show the strain of the evening. "What do you
mean?" he asked.

	"I--" Reeve was otherwise silent for a while, as if trying to find the
right words. "I've always wanted someone I could talk to like this..."

	Rufus looked at Reeve for a long, long minute. Something in his
expression seemed to soften, and he nodded. "I -- I know. Me, too." He
reached out and just brushed the side of Reeve's cheek, a feather-touch.
"Which is why I wanted to apologize for tonight. I realized -- I was pushing
too far."

	Reeve smiled at him a bit, once more seeming to blush a little. "And
that's why it's okay."

	Letting his hand drop, Rufus looked down at his hands. "And I'm not
going to say that it will never happen again," he said, quietly, seemingly
struggling through his reluctance to speak. "I ... when I lose my temper
like that, I ... I never know what I'm doing..."

	Reeve sighed softly and dropped his eyes from Rufus's. "I trust you," he
said -- and then, startled at his words, and startled at the truth they
held, repeated it. "I trust you."

	Rufus shook his head. "You -- you'll just get hurt," he said, forcing
the words out. "I'm -- I'm not exactly a safe person to be friends with..."

	"I..." Reeve looked back up at Rufus, his eyes speaking volumes more
than his words. "I think -- I'm willing to take that chance."

	The slow smile that spread across Rufus's face at Reeve's words -- and
more, at the look in Reeve's eyes -- was like the sunrise. "I keep warning
you," he said, softly, "and you never listen. Why is that, Reeve?" It was a
very curious question, as if he was trying to understand something himself.

	Reeve drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Because I... I care
about you. You're my friend. I don't care about the risks..."

	Something well-hidden sparked in the depths of Rufus's eyes, but his
smile was sweet -- if a bit melancholy. "Thanks," he says, softly. "That ...
that means a lot." 

	Reeve did blush then, dropping his eyes to the couch. As if sensing
Reeve's discomfort, Rufus stood, handing back the cloth-wrapped ice pack. "I
should go," he said, softly. "It's late, and I'm sure that you were trying
to sleep."

	"Yeah, I was. Wasn't having much luck, but I was trying." He watched for
a moment as Rufus stood and made his way towards the door -- and then
something within him seemed to give a little shove. "Rufus--" He reached out
just in time to catch Rufus's arm. "Wait--"

	Rufus turned around, one hand on the doorknob, one eyebrow raising.
"Yeah?"

	For a long moment, Reeve just stood there staring at Rufus... ~Fuck it.~
Throwing caution to the wind, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against
Rufus's, tentatively at first, then a little more firmly.

	~He's not -- Oh, Ramuh...~ With a groan, almost as if he was struggling
with his own common sense, Rufus brought his hands up to Reeve's cheeks,
twining into the hair at his temples. He struggled to keep the kiss gentle,
quick -- a struggle he lost.

	Reeve broke the kiss off -- suddenly, perhaps a bit awkwardly...and he
was red as a beet. "I...uh..."

	Rufus let his hands drop as Reeve pulled back, his eyes studying Reeve
intently -- perhaps a bit too intently. "I should ... I should be going
now," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

	"Yeah," Reeve agreed with a nervous little nod. "I should --uh -- get to
bed..."

	Rufus didn't move, his eyes unwavering. The moment hung between the two
of them like spun glass, neither man willing to move and shatter it; they
barely even moved enough to breathe. After what felt like centuries, Rufus
moved forward, quickly, uncoiling like a snake and letting his conscience
take a nap. He once more brushed Reeve's lips with his own, almost tenderly,
before softly commenting, "Sleep well, Reeve." And with that, he turned and
was gone.

				-- * --

	...and Reeve dreamed...

	/Deserted, abandoned, desolate. Never before had the streets of Midgar 
been this still; not even the wind lifted the abandoned newspapers littering the
sidewalks. The city was frozen, immobilized; the only thing in sight were
lipstick-stained coffee cups lying in gutters and the few, lonely cigarette
butts, crushed into quiescence in the street./

	/He stood, turning slow circles in the middle of the pavement, in an
intersection that was normally infested with screaming pedestrians and the
cars that threatened to decapitate them. He was the only living thing in the
city. The only thing that was left./

	/In a trance, against his will, his feet began to carry him; past the
convenience store with the best coffee in Midgar (now standing with the door
wide open and one fluorescent bulb flickering on and off within, no sign of
the woman who usually presided over the cash register with a terrible temper
and an illegal sawed-off shotgun hidden beneath the counter) ... past the
donut shop where, the common joke went, the former Midgar police force spent
their enforced 'retirement' (a puddle of coffee from an overturned cup the
only thing that he had seen move so far, as it trickled over the steps to
join the indefinable ooze on the sidewalks) ... past the takeout restaurants
and the dry cleaners, the stores and the businesses, all of which stood
naked to the world, uninhabited./

	/A stray beam of sunrise struck the chrome of a high-rise, glinting
painfully off its windows and --/

	/ ~Wait. Sunlight ... in Midgar? What -- happened to -- the smog?~ He 
felt as if his mind was trying to swim through cotton, that no matter how hard 
he tried to think, the waves of apathy would drown him. He could not bring
himself to care about the reason why, but something felt so wrong... As he
watched, the sun grew more painfully bright, until he had to squint and hold
up his hand to shade his eyes. And in the second he turned around, he saw
it./

	/The Shinra building. ~Or is it?~ Because the tower had fallen, and 
now lay scattered over the city blocks it had once commanded ... and beyond 
its rubble, there was a jagged-edged hole where sector 7 had once sprawled.../

	/And as he turned, the rest of the city was broken, brick piled upon 
steel, steel strewn across concrete, concrete cracked to expose the supports 
of the plate below... whole sections of road fallen through, the slums below
nothing but slag and ruins beneath..../

	/He knew that he gasped. ~What in the name of the gods...~/

	/"The gods," came the soft voice from behind him, "have nothing to 
do with it." And he whirled, to see an all too familiar face, but one that 
he had never quite seen like that. Rufus stood, his hands in the pockets of 
a pair of faded, ripped jeans that would never have graced his frame in the 
... in the ... the waking world? The faintest of glows surrounded Rufus's face, 
the look on that face curiously open and human, with just a hint of shadowed
regret buried deeply. He looked strangely too young, and curiously far, far
too old. "Fallen, fallen, is Midgar the great," Rufus murmured, his voice
somehow holding a host of other voices behind it; "who has made all nations
drink the wine of God's anger."/

	/He turned to face Rufus, somehow unsurprised by the strange nimbus that
surrounded Rufus's body ... the hint of golden lines along the curves of his
bare shoulderblades, the soft peace in his face, the way that he seemed, for
the first time ever, to be at one with himself and his surroundings. ~He's
not ... human...~ a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, but was
swiftly silenced. He found his voice, finally, cringing at the harsh rasp in
his own ears. "I don't understand."/

	/Rufus smiled, a full smile that caught the sunlight and transformed it
into something utterly otherworldly. "Midgar the great, mother of whores and
of every obscenity on earth. She has become a dwelling for demons, a haunt
for every unclean spirit... You will see it, you know. You will be perhaps
the only one who sees it, and the only one who can save it. But you won't
realize until it's far, far too late."/

	/He took half a step forward, turning his ankle on a stone underfoot --
the remnant of a building, a bit of pavement, who knew. "Rufus! What are you
-- what are you saying? Where /is/ this? Who --" He stopped, then shook his
head, unable to dispel the haze that clouded him, unable to dispel the
suspicions that haunted him. "Who /are/ you?"/

	/Rufus shook his head. "You'll know, later. Too late, of course, but
that's just the way of things. For her sins are piled high as heaven, and
God has not forgotten her crimes; and alas, alas for the great city of
Midgar, for in a moment her doom will come upon her." He lifted a hand to
flip his hair out of his eyes in a gesture so familiar as to make the heart
ache. "You don't know what I'm saying, now; you don't know who I am, or what
I am. You don't need to know. Just know this: that in this world of death
and destruction, there are things that shine between the dark spots, and you
are one of those things. There are things that you do not know, and that you
never will know, but there are other things that you know as deeply as you
know your own breath. Those are the things that are needed, and those are
the things you can give. That you will give, just by being who you are."
Rufus tucked his hands back into his pockets, his gaze contemplative as he
looked over the ruins of the city that had once been his. "And that is what
will damn you, and save us both."/

	/He shook his head, feeling the first traitorous tears of confusion and
distress welling up at the backs of his eyes, where only his will could keep
them from seeking freedom. "I don't understand," he whispered, feeling
unbearably small and clumsy next to the golden glory of the other man,
feeling wretchedly stupid and scared and lost. "And I hate ... hate feeling
like this..."/

	/Rufus reached out a hand and brushed it against his cheek; the touch
burned like a firebrand. "I know. And I will know, though sometimes I will
forget. Don't hate me when I forget; I have a long road to walk. For now,
just know that you're doing fine." His lips curved again. "And remember, I
am coming soon."/

	/And as Rufus's form shimmered, the whisper of golden wings stirring
behind him, the sunrise blazed behind the waste of the Shinra tower, the sky
flaring in shades of colors that would never be seen again.../

	...And Reeve woke, sitting bolt upright in the darkness, sweating and
chilled all at once. His heart raced at some unseen threat, and he clutched
at the blankets, seeking some sort of balance -- a balance that had been
curiously disturbed.

	A dream. It had been a dream. He had dreamed ... dreamed of Midgar, but
a Midgar that was ... that was not the Midgar he knew, though ... he
couldn't remember what had been different about it. Sunlight -- and
stillness, two things that he had never expected to be associated with this
city. It had been important... And there was something more. Someone had
been there. 

	Rufus.

	Rufus had been there. Hadn't he?

	Hadn't he?

	...Reeve couldn't remember.



	In the chill and the darkness, he drew the blankets around himself once
more, and waited for the sun to rise.