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petroniaHere is some Advent Children fic. Predictably it is about Rufus.
A Sense of Theatre
Three days later Rufus said, "Aren't you going to say anything?"
"About what?" The mildness of Tseng's tone belied his body language; Rufus could read the tension in him like a street map. High time to snap him out of it.
"Don't be disingenuous," he said. "You're a Turk, not my valet."
Tseng's head came up. There it was: carefully banked and none of it turned outward, the more fool him. What did he hope to achieve by taking personal responsibility for events outside human control? "My job is to obey your orders, sir."
"And not to put up with my dramatics, no, I entirely agree."
Tseng blinked.
"I thought of emulating dear mad Aunt Ottavia's sense of theatre," said Rufus. "After that unfortunate botched surgery she never left her room without a domino and a chantilly lace mantle that covered her from chin to knee. But I suppose in these trying times we make do." He held up a corner of the blanket and added, "Besides, I prefer white."
Tseng regarded him steadily for a few seconds. "It's more ivory than white."
"Quite. The selection was woefully inadequate."
Tseng pulled up a chair and sat down on the other side of the table.
"The rest of the team has been out of their minds with worry," he said. "We gave ourselves until Wednesday to break it to Reeve."
"My descent into madness, you mean? Comforting that the chain of command hasn't gone the way of the board of directors."
"An explanation would be helpful."
"The best-hidden objects are those nearly in plain sight."
"Assume I'm not following the gist of the argument." But Tseng was; it was there in the set of his jaw. Rufus leant back, twisting the blanket edge absently between his fingers.
"Suppose an invalid in a wheelchair," he said. "Rich, possibly insane, known to be gravely ill with an incurable wasting sickness-" A muscle in Tseng's cheek twitched- "Who commonly goes about swathed up until not an inch of him is visible to the prying eye. What would you assume?"
He paused for effect. Tseng looked as if he were about to say something, then thought better of it.
"You wouldn't want to see what he was hiding. The last thing you'd do would be to attempt to uncover his shriveled, infected, hideously disfigured, suppurating body. It wouldn't cross your mind even if you were in the process of taking Midgar apart inch by inch. It's not as if he's going to have anything on his lap."
"No," said Tseng.
"I mean, even if he did it could very well be a sawed-off shotgun. You never know with these rich eccentrics."
"It's too dangerous." There was a stubborn gleam in Tseng's eye. "I won't have you put at risk like that."
"As opposed to now?"
Silence.
"The stakes are too high, Tseng. Not to mention personal. Although with a bit of luck it won't even come to that."
"You're—"
"Here's an order: find Cloud Strife. It shouldn't be overly difficult. Contrary to appearances there is a plan."
Tseng got up without a word. Rufus let him get as far as the door before he said, "Tseng."
The other man's gaze bore into his back. He didn't look up.
"Given the events of the last few years I had hoped the concept would not bear my reiteration, but for the record: dying and dead are states that differ. Significantly."
A long silence, then Tseng recrossed the room, coming to a stop directly behind his chair.
"I'm aware of that," he said. "The thought keeps me going."
His hand slid through Rufus's hair, cupped warmly around the nape of his neck. Rufus nearly closed his eyes. Tempting to lean back - but he was riding a wave of adrenalin, and the slightest break in tension would send him crashing down into exhaustion and gnawing pain. There was no time for that.
Petty malice, he thought. Revenge for the weeks of not knowing whether Tseng was alive or dead, and the weeks of being certain it was the latter - as if causing pain in return could provide some form of reassurance.
As if even the disease's inexorable progression were under his control.
Just as well that it would all come to a head soon, one way or the other.
"Have Rude bring the wheelchair while you're at it," he said. "Let's get this show on the road."
***
Last one for a while (got in touch with Wen, can work on the SSBB story now ^_^v). I want to finish the piece about Clayman and Dorian but my notes have degenerated from a simulacrum of Socratic dialogue to a schizophrenic quotation war pitting Keats against Van Gogh. Even this one is more serious than I intended at first - for some reason writing humour or anything "light" rubs me wrong these days, I feel like I come off arch. Maybe I've reached the limit of my backlash against "lyricism" and the rubber band is snapping the other way.
A Sense of Theatre
Three days later Rufus said, "Aren't you going to say anything?"
"About what?" The mildness of Tseng's tone belied his body language; Rufus could read the tension in him like a street map. High time to snap him out of it.
"Don't be disingenuous," he said. "You're a Turk, not my valet."
Tseng's head came up. There it was: carefully banked and none of it turned outward, the more fool him. What did he hope to achieve by taking personal responsibility for events outside human control? "My job is to obey your orders, sir."
"And not to put up with my dramatics, no, I entirely agree."
Tseng blinked.
"I thought of emulating dear mad Aunt Ottavia's sense of theatre," said Rufus. "After that unfortunate botched surgery she never left her room without a domino and a chantilly lace mantle that covered her from chin to knee. But I suppose in these trying times we make do." He held up a corner of the blanket and added, "Besides, I prefer white."
Tseng regarded him steadily for a few seconds. "It's more ivory than white."
"Quite. The selection was woefully inadequate."
Tseng pulled up a chair and sat down on the other side of the table.
"The rest of the team has been out of their minds with worry," he said. "We gave ourselves until Wednesday to break it to Reeve."
"My descent into madness, you mean? Comforting that the chain of command hasn't gone the way of the board of directors."
"An explanation would be helpful."
"The best-hidden objects are those nearly in plain sight."
"Assume I'm not following the gist of the argument." But Tseng was; it was there in the set of his jaw. Rufus leant back, twisting the blanket edge absently between his fingers.
"Suppose an invalid in a wheelchair," he said. "Rich, possibly insane, known to be gravely ill with an incurable wasting sickness-" A muscle in Tseng's cheek twitched- "Who commonly goes about swathed up until not an inch of him is visible to the prying eye. What would you assume?"
He paused for effect. Tseng looked as if he were about to say something, then thought better of it.
"You wouldn't want to see what he was hiding. The last thing you'd do would be to attempt to uncover his shriveled, infected, hideously disfigured, suppurating body. It wouldn't cross your mind even if you were in the process of taking Midgar apart inch by inch. It's not as if he's going to have anything on his lap."
"No," said Tseng.
"I mean, even if he did it could very well be a sawed-off shotgun. You never know with these rich eccentrics."
"It's too dangerous." There was a stubborn gleam in Tseng's eye. "I won't have you put at risk like that."
"As opposed to now?"
Silence.
"The stakes are too high, Tseng. Not to mention personal. Although with a bit of luck it won't even come to that."
"You're—"
"Here's an order: find Cloud Strife. It shouldn't be overly difficult. Contrary to appearances there is a plan."
Tseng got up without a word. Rufus let him get as far as the door before he said, "Tseng."
The other man's gaze bore into his back. He didn't look up.
"Given the events of the last few years I had hoped the concept would not bear my reiteration, but for the record: dying and dead are states that differ. Significantly."
A long silence, then Tseng recrossed the room, coming to a stop directly behind his chair.
"I'm aware of that," he said. "The thought keeps me going."
His hand slid through Rufus's hair, cupped warmly around the nape of his neck. Rufus nearly closed his eyes. Tempting to lean back - but he was riding a wave of adrenalin, and the slightest break in tension would send him crashing down into exhaustion and gnawing pain. There was no time for that.
Petty malice, he thought. Revenge for the weeks of not knowing whether Tseng was alive or dead, and the weeks of being certain it was the latter - as if causing pain in return could provide some form of reassurance.
As if even the disease's inexorable progression were under his control.
Just as well that it would all come to a head soon, one way or the other.
"Have Rude bring the wheelchair while you're at it," he said. "Let's get this show on the road."
***
Last one for a while (got in touch with Wen, can work on the SSBB story now ^_^v). I want to finish the piece about Clayman and Dorian but my notes have degenerated from a simulacrum of Socratic dialogue to a schizophrenic quotation war pitting Keats against Van Gogh. Even this one is more serious than I intended at first - for some reason writing humour or anything "light" rubs me wrong these days, I feel like I come off arch. Maybe I've reached the limit of my backlash against "lyricism" and the rubber band is snapping the other way.
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*slays fattened chocobos*
Date: 2005-10-12 11:38 pm (UTC)Re: *slays fattened chocobos*
Date: 2006-12-05 10:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 12:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 01:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 02:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 04:05 am (UTC)*loves*
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Date: 2005-10-13 04:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 10:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 01:53 pm (UTC)The 'conversation' Cloud had with Rufus amused me greatly. That's why I like this fic, bcos it'd have been what had happened before the meeting~ XD
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Date: 2005-10-13 03:47 pm (UTC)I WUB J00, J00 CRAZY WOMAN!!!
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Date: 2005-10-13 03:51 pm (UTC)when rufus unveiled himself in the movie, i couldn't help but to laugh.
i'm sorry, I'm not really handicapped.
And I'm not really deformed with geostigma.
And I'm not really blind in one eye, either.
And I have perfect use of my limbs and a gun.
Anything else you're hinding, dude?!
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Date: 2005-10-13 04:17 pm (UTC)Rufus is really the most intelligent person in the whole movie. Scary if you think about it...
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Date: 2005-10-14 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 04:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 04:19 am (UTC)...That was probably too much information, eh?
To be honest, I kind of accidentally fell into the Rufus x Reno ship because another fic of mine wasn't working out, so I decided to write a PWP with them. And somehow it turned into the fandom that ate my brain >_>; Originally, when I first played the game, I was a big Cid x Vin OTP fangirl, but AC's certainly done a lot to make me love the Turks <3 especially Reno's outlandish antics.
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Date: 2005-10-14 04:55 am (UTC)I am totally all about Reno, he's probably my favorite in the thing. ^^ Though I'm quite fond of all the FF7 characters.
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Date: 2005-10-14 05:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-14 04:28 am (UTC)and he wasn't even slightly unpleasant-looking. ♥
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Date: 2005-10-16 12:33 pm (UTC)Now you made me stalk you. XD
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Date: 2006-01-05 04:59 am (UTC)Here by way of
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Date: 2006-01-05 06:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-13 09:39 pm (UTC)Well...
SQUEE~!
^_^
Absolutely adorable, with Rufus being snarky and Tseng being twitchy and eeeee the angst. I'm not quite sure how I ended up here at all, especially since it was written... *checks*... sometime last year... but I loved this. Love.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-15 04:43 am (UTC)