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I tried to build up to the fact that she was going to have to head into the Mako Tunnels on her own, but she seemed to take it fairly well. We headed out of the branch office into the streets. Way off in the distance, the sounds of combat in the streets were audible. I hoped all the civilians were securely locked in their homes. Junon’s a fairly militant city, so the civilians are used to drills in case of attack, but it was still something to worry about. Avalanche obviously didn’t care about innocent bystanders.
“Are you gonna be all right by yourself, rookie?” I’d already asked her the same question about five times, but I was worried about her. “I’d be going with you, if Tseng didn’t need me working topside…but you know how orders are.”
“I know, sir. It’s all right. I’m going to be fine,” she assured me patiently.
I glanced down the street. It was clear. She wouldn’t have any trouble getting into the tunnels. I still wasn’t keen on leaving, though. “Well…all right. I’d better go hook up with some soldiers and start moving towards the Cannon. I’ll catch up to you, when this is all done. You be really careful, got me?”
“Yes, sir,” she smiled at me and patted my arm reassuringly. I guess I must’ve sounded as nervous as I felt. “I’ll be fine, sir. You take care of yourself too, all right?”
“Always, rookie,” I grinned at her and winked. “I’ll see you around, then.”
She waved at me as I headed down the street, then turned and headed in the opposite direction. I ducked into an alley and sighed. I’d make a lousy parent. Or at least an insanely overprotective one. I’m bad at letting people do things for themselves, especially when I’m in charge of them. Hell, I don’t know why Commander Veld wanted to give me a subordinate. I hate having to be responsible for people. Too damn much stress.
I headed through the alley, trying to keep my mind off Rosalind. I was going to be too busy to keep in touch with her all the time. From the sounds of things, I was going to have my hands full with Avalanche terrorists. I stopped as I came out on one of the main roads and pulled my PHS out, dialing Tseng’s number. “Tseng?”
“Ah, Reno. I was just going to call you. There should be a squad of soldiers waiting to meet up with you on the corner of Mayworth and Levin. From there, proceed to the base of the Cannon and help defend it. Got that?” Tseng asked brusquely.
“Yeah, yeah…Tseng, can I get you to do me a favor?”
Tseng paused. “Of course. What do you need?”
“I’m gonna be kinda busy with this terrorist business…and even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t be able to help Rosalind much anyway…could you keep in touch with her? Just to make sure she does okay? Or…well…maybe…well, if you can’t do that, could you maybe just check up on her from time to time, if you get a minute? It’s just that it’s pretty dangerous down there…”
“Sure, Reno,” Tseng agreed kindly. “I’ll help guide her through the tunnel systems, how’s that? She’ll hardly go a step of the way on her own. Don’t worry about Rosalind. She’ll be just fine.”
I leaned against the wall of the building behind me. “I know that…yeah, I know that. I just…I dunno. Maybe I should’ve gone down below. I can’t help thinking…”
“Reno, it’s fine. Really. Rosalind is an incredibly capable agent. There’s no one better for this job. She’ll manage this perfectly well. But you can’t be preoccupied by her situation. You need to concentrate on your objective. Don’t worry about Rosalind. I’ll personally keep an eye on her. You just watch out for yourself, all right?”
“Yeah…all right. Thanks, Tseng.” Tseng’s a very competent administrator. He doesn’t work in the field anymore, not since a close call he had a year ago. That made him decide he owed it to his family to take things easy and move into tactics and administration, but he still has the knack for command. He knows how to get Turks to perform. I’ve worked with him ever since I first joined the company so he knows how I work and how I think. We get along pretty well together. I knew I could count on him to keep an eye on Rosalind.
“Not at all. I’ll be glad to do it. You be careful though. These Avalanche members are proving to be more dangerous than we’d anticipated. Don’t get cocky and don’t show off.”
Sometimes, Tseng treats me like a rookie. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I know…so it’s gonna be rough, huh? Call me in an hour or two, so I can keep some sense of time.
“Will do,” he agreed. That’s actually a kind of important thing. Sometimes, when there’s a lot of close fighting going on, a person loses track of time. As a frame of reference, time is a very important thing. If you’ve been scrapping with people for a solid hour, you know you’re in a rough situation and you should maybe rethink your position.
“Thanks, Tseng. See you around.”
I hung up and proceeded down the street, hugging the walls. I was getting closer to the fighting, I could tell. The shouting was getting louder. For the most part, I avoided it. I had an objective to get to. Once I met up with the soldiers, we’d head to the upper streets and hold the entrance to the control building for the cannon. They wouldn’t be able to fire it unless they deactivated the lockdown, way down at the bottom core where Rosalind was headed, but we still had to have people defending the controls.
I moved quickly and in about fifteen minutes I ran into a group of soldiers. A youngish looking sergeant greeted me with a half-salute. “You the Turk we’ve been waiting for?” he called as I approached.
“That depends. Are you the squad I’ve been looking for?” I asked, returning the gesture. I don’t mind soldiers, really. If they’re the right sort, I get along very well with them. I was in the military for a little while myself. I didn’t like it, but that’s no reason to resent people who manage it all right.
“I suppose we are. I’m Sergeant Hastings. Run into any trouble so far?”
I shook my head. “I’ve been keeping out of anything that looked scrappy. I’m Reno, by the way, but I guess you probably already knew that. Most people do.”
“I knew it was something with an ‘R’, yeah. I worked with your partner a while ago, I think. Rude?”
“Yeah.” When you’re talking with someone you’re going to be fighting to the death alongside, there’s really not much to do except make small talk. Thankfully, most soldiers know well enough to treat me informally. Actually, Rosalind’s the only person who I’ve ever allowed to call me “sir.” It’s not a good habit, but I didn’t really take the appropriate steps to nip it in the bud. Oh well. I don’t really mind when she does it anyway. “Well, I guess we’d better move it out, then. How many in your squad?”
“Eight.”
I whistled approvingly and took out my nightstick. That wasn’t bad at all. I’d been expecting four. “And we’re heading up to the Cannon?”
Hastings nodded. “Yeah, those were my orders. Seems they’ve set up a blockade of some sort. We’re supposed to take it.”
“Right. Let’s go then.”
Sergeant Hastings nodded again and barked a few orders at his men. They fell into a loose formation and moved up the street, machine guns at ready. I was mostly there for strategic purposes. The Shinran military are trained for city situations, but they don’t know the surroundings as well as a Turk will. Besides, I’m moderately more dangerous than your average soldier.
We came out on the road leading down to the Cannon base. Avalanche had set up a blockade of about a dozen men, loosely scattered across the road, in varying states of armament. “Well, would you look at that…” I remarked to Hastings as he drew up beside me. We were still a goodly distance from the terrorists, and we’d pulled back among the buildings, so they likely didn’t see us.
“Mmm,” Hastings agreed absently, shifting. “What would you suggest we do?”
“Well, we’re gonna break right on through. You guys ready for something like that?”
There was a collective “Yes, sir” from the squad of soldiers and I nodded absently. “All right…you want to split your people into two groups, Hastings? Maybe move in from two sides.”
“Roger that.”
“Right.” I glanced up at the Junon Cannon, a huge, mutely gleaming piece of machinery. It had only ever been fired once before, a test shot. It destroyed an entire island, way up north. And now it was pointed at my hometown, with thousands upon thousands of innocent people dependent on us to stop the terrorists who had gotten a hold of it. “Listen guys. If they fire that thing, it’s goodbye Midgar. So we’ve gotta do every goddamn thing we can to get it back. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“All right! You guys charge on in, I’m gonna circle around, come at ‘em from the back, and bring down some serious shit. I’ll wait on your signal.”
Hastings nodded to me and barked a few more orders at his men. Military men seem to bark a lot. “Right. Good luck.”
“You too,” I answered, turning down an alley. I sprinted down the narrow passage behind the buildings facing the street I’d just been on. Hastings was going to be moving fairly quickly, and I had to be ready to move. Eight soldiers was a lot, but there were still more Avalanche members. We needed the element of surprise as much as possible, and that was my department.
I heard an eruption of gunfire as Hastings and his men descended on the Avalanche members. I darted out of another alley and unleashed a blast of lightning from the materia Rosalind had given me earlier. Three of the terrorists fell to the burst, and the ones that spun around to take me out were quickly eliminated by the soldiers. It had been short, but my pulse had quickened nonetheless.
Hastings’ men moved in quickly, dragging the dead to the side and binding the wounded. They were very well trained. These weren’t your average military grunts. These were the upper middle class, between grunts and the First Class Soldier. They’re called Elite Tactical Commandos, or ETC. One of the higher-ups was being cute. The Sergeant approached me, reloading the rifle he carried. “Three,” he remarked. “Impressive, Turk.”
I shrugged. To be honest, the whole encounter had been a little too reminiscent of my time in the military for me to be too pleased with it. I don’t particularly like open fighting in the streets. This might sound kind of odd, but it’s too nervy for me.
Sergeant Hastings eyed me curiously. “My captain mentioned he’d worked with you before. Said you had been part of his squad at Fort Condor. Pax, I think he called you?”
“Yeah. Pax. That’d be me,” I answered shortly. “Let’s move on.” Conversationally, the good sergeant was treading in a minefield. If he didn’t drop the subject, I was liable to blow up at him. It’s a bit of a touchy matter.
Thankfully, he nodded and beckoned to his men. “We’d best move up to the reactor, then, wouldn’t you say?”
“The sooner the better. If they’ve got a blockade up, then they probably have people moving in. My guess is they’re trying to isolate the area around the Cannon so they won’t be unduly interrupted. We’d better get in there.”
And so we did. Things just went downhill from there. I don’t particularly want to talk about how things went. It’s an ugly, ugly thing to try and hold a defensible position when you’re coming up against terrorists who are more than willing to throw their lives away to get at you.
This is going to sound strange, but for a Turk, I don’t particularly like killing people. Well, no. No sane person likes it. I’m not particularly good at it, is maybe what I mean. No, that isn’t right either. It’s what I’m trained to do; of course I’m good at it. I’m not conditioned against a lot of it, maybe. Yeah, that’s probably closest. This was an awful lot of death for me to be dealing with in one day. A Turk isn’t a soldier. Our mindsets aren’t the same. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for them. It sure was hard on me.
Tseng’s phone call came as a bit of a surprise, during a lull in the Avalanche attacks. We were close to the entrance of the Cannon building. We’d stopped trying to pull the bodies out of the way. It was a waste of effort. I counted maybe thirty sprawled in the streets before us. Hastings had lost one of his men, and two were wounded. Not severely, but they were hampered nonetheless. We’d just forced a squad of Avalanche members back and I was getting a little worn. “H-hello?”
“Reno? It’s me. It’s been two hours,” Tseng informed me, sounding slightly concerned.
“Uh…? Oh! Oh…yeah. Hey, great. Went by like five minutes. God, you weren’t kidding. This is hell.”
“Are you bearing up okay?”
I massaged my side, where an Avalanche member had landed a lucky blow and sat down, leaning back against the wall surrounding the Cannon Compound. “I’ll pull through, I think. Rough stuff, this is.”
“Hang in there.”
“I will, yeah…hey…is Rosalind all right?”
Tseng chuckled. “She’s just fine. It’s the security system I’m worried about.”
I laughed at that. “Yeah, well, that’s my rookie. Shit, I wish she was up here. I could use the moral support.”
“I’ll tell her you’re having a hell of a time of things, if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Nah, don’t do that. Don’t make her worry. I don’t really want her up here. Like I said, it’s hell and she doesn’t deserve that. I’m all right.”
“If you say so. I’ll tell her you say ‘hi’ then,” Tseng suggested.
I grinned wearily. “Yeah, you do that. Thanks again, Tseng.”
“Right. Good luck, Reno.”
“Talk to you later.” I was too tired to even make a smart remark about luck and Junon. Hopefully I’d get my second wind pretty soon, before the next wave of Avalanche came.
Hastings came over. “My commander contacted me,” he told me, holding a radio in one hand. “There’s a squad of soldiers who’ve taken up the blockade down the road. They’re taking a pretty bad beating and he wants some of my squad to go bolster their forces. Did you want to stay here while I take a few soldiers and offer support?”
I pushed myself up. “Oh, hell no. I’ll go. What do you think I am, some kinda wimp?”
Hastings shrugged. “Pax. Means peace, in Latin. My family’s Catholic.”
“Yeah, so?” I was being a bit defensive. I’d acquired the nickname from Hastings’ captain, my sergeant at the time, because of my aforementioned aversion to fighting in the streets. Not many people know about it.
“This obviously isn’t your forte.”
“It’s not war.”
“It sure as hell isn’t peace, either,” Hastings answered wisely, shrugging. “Well, all right. You want to take two soldiers and head south, that’s fine with me. I just thought I’d give you the choice.”
It was kind of him to offer. “Thanks, but they’re your squad. You should stay with the majority. I don’t handle soldiers well anyway. Nah, I do better with fewer people. I don’t mind going.”
Hastings shrugged again. “Fair enough. Watch yourself.”
“Likewise.”
“Hoffman, Goldberg. You’re to go with the Turk and back up a squad south of here. Understood?”
“Affirmative, sir,” one of the soldiers said, adjusting the shoulder strap of his rifle.
“Good. Move it out.”
So we did just that. And the fighting only got worse, when we joined up with that other squad. They had taken a pretty severe thrashing and even when the two soldiers and I joined them, we were usually outnumbered and hard pressed to hold our own.
That’s the paradox of being in a rough situation like that. The worse things are, the worse they get. Our position wasn’t good and there were only five of us in total, typically facing off against at least eight Avalanche members.
One of Hastings men caught a bullet in the chest and fell. I hadn’t even gotten his name. I ducked under sword swipes and avoided flailing blows, electrocuting whatever I made contact with. Admittedly, I was having the easiest time of things (though that wasn’t exactly saying much), but then, I’m trained for close fighting.
“Still a lot of them left! C’mon, people, triple time!” I yelled to the remaining soldiers as more Avalanche members flooded down the street. I began to question if these terrorists were really as stupid as they seemed. It felt like I’d seen hundreds. When they did it right, their attacks proved to be more than just a thorn in Shinra’s side.
Another of the soldiers fell. This was bad. I was doing fine, physically. Well, maybe not fine, but I was holding up. But I was still relying heavily on the soldiers for cover against Avalanche members with guns. I could handle anyone else, but I’m not quite quick enough to dodge a bullet.
I spared a glance over my shoulder when things lessened for an instant, only to discover that another of the soldiers had vanished. Gone, probably deserted. I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, but if I’d had the option, I would’ve done the same. Hell, I’d attempted desertion when I was in the army. I deserted right into the Turks. Better than the army, at least.
Suddenly one of the Avalanche members gave a shout, and they started to fall back. I didn’t understand it. For apparently no reason, they’d started retreating. And then some guy in civilian clothes came tearing out of an alleyway, waving a shovel.
This threw me off, but I recovered quickly. Militant civilians are not uncommon in cities like Junon. This guy was screaming and shouting and waving his shovel and headed right at me. I didn’t realize until the last minute that he wasn’t targeting Avalanche members. “Death to the Shinra!” he screamed, aiming a solid blow at my head.
As in most cases, my reflexes saved me. If I hadn’t ducked, it’s entirely possible he would’ve taken my head off. Or at least buried his shovel at least three inches into my neck. And even as it was, I didn’t manage to avoid a glancing blow to the skull.
Now, getting clipped by a shovel is nothing to be sneezed at. It’s not as severe as being chopped in the neck, but it’s still the kind of thing that’ll land you flat on your back in the middle of the street, with only half an idea as to how you got there. Stunned, I think, is the word for it, but I was a little worse than that. Everything was spinning. Including the civilian, who had recovered from missing his blow and was lifting his shovel to take another crack at me.
I didn’t think, I just reacted. I yanked Rosalind’s lightning materia out of my pocket and blasted the guy. He probably flew about fifteen feet. I heard a rather final sounding snap as he hit the ground. I was a little more preoccupied with the fact that I was seeing stars at sunset. It suddenly struck me as a remarkable thing that it was already sunset. It didn’t feel like it’d been hours, but evidently it was so. I hoped Rosalind was okay.
I touched my forehead gingerly. My fingers came away bloody. Well, that settled it. I had to get up or I’d bleed to death. Rolling over, the effort only making things worse, I pushed myself up and stumbled to my feet. I promptly lost my balance and staggered against a building before I fell flat on my face again.
Blood dripped into my eye. I wiped it away irritably and shook my head a few times, trying to clear it. The streets were deserted. The Avalanche terrorists were gone or going. I didn’t get it, but I sure was thankful for the fact. There were maybe a dozen people lying dead in the streets. Shuddering, I averted my eyes and looked around, trying to orient myself. It’s amazing how much a person’s sense of direction can be disrupted by a moderate head trauma.
I spotted a familiar bar. I knew where I was. It was just a few blocks from Junon General Hospital. I knew this because I’d gotten in a bar fight at the aforementioned bar and woken up at said hospital. More of my bad Junon luck. Getting my bearings, I managed to walk down the street in a moderately straight line, cutting through the first alley I could find.
Given how disoriented I was, it’s a wonder I ever got to the hospital. My head was absolutely throbbing and, though the bleeding had slowed, I wasn’t sure how much of my dizziness was to be attributed to a concussion as opposed to blood loss. Of course, once I got inside, my head just about exploded as the noise of the lobby stabbed into my skull. Absently, I reached into my pocket and turned off my cell phone.
Apparently Avalanche had been busy. The lobby was filled with injured people, military and civilian alike, all waiting for triage and medical treatment. It was terrible. Men, women, children, old people, all over the place. The one that really got to me was a little kid, sitting with his mother, with a hastily bandaged arm. Not more than five or six years old, and someone had gone and hurt the poor little guy. There was a lot of crying and a lot of pain in the room. Looking around at how bad some people were hurt, I suddenly felt a whole lot better.
That was a lucky thing too, because I obviously wasn’t priority. I stood in the middle of the lobby for a few seconds before a harried looking nurse came over and backed me into a wall, giving me the fastest examination I’d ever had.
“Superficial,” she pronounced, swiping a wad of gauze across my temple. That stung, but she’d pressed her palm against my forehead and beamed a flashlight in my eyes before I could say anything. I don’t know what she was looking for, but apparently she didn’t find it. “You’re not bad. You can wait,” she declared.
And then she grabbed my hand and clamped it against the gauze she’d pressed against my forehead. Then she was gone and I was left standing, still half-dazed, in the middle of the lobby.
I wandered my way across the room, to a relatively calm corner and sat down against the wall. People were running all over the place and shouting at each other. It was making me dizzy as all hell. My vision was kind of blurry and I was having trouble focusing on anything in particular, plus all the noise kept fading in and out.
I closed my eyes for what felt like a second and when I opened them again, the lobby had changed. There were new people and some of the people I’d seen upon entering were gone. I glanced down at my watch and tried to figure out how much time had passed. I touched the stream of blood that dripped from the graze in my forehead. My fingers came away sticky with coagulated blood and I shuddered, pressing the gauze against my forehead again. I didn’t know how long it had been, but I did know I’d been rather steadily bleeding when I came in and this had since slowed to a trickle and started to clot.
I wiped most of the blood away and pressed the gauze against my forehead. I didn’t feel great, but I felt better than I had. Glancing up, I looked around for the little kid I’d seen upon entering. I hoped he’d gotten in. But no, he was still sitting with his mom on the other side of the room. Poor little guy was crying and whimpering a bit. Must have had the hell scared out of him. I pushed myself up and went over to the corner where he was sitting. “Hey, there.”
He looked up and sniffled a bit, wiping at his eyes with his good hand. “H-hello,” he managed. “You’re a Turk.”
“Yeah, I am. My name’s Reno. What’s your name?”
“Michael.”
“What happened to your arm, kid?”
“I hurt it,” he answered, sniffling some more. “One of our windows broke and my arm got hurt.”
“A stray bullet,” his mother explained, smiling a bit wearily and rubbing a hand up and down his back comfortingly.
I nodded. “Aww, that’s rough. I’ve caught a few of those myself. It’s no fun. Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Michael nodded miserably and hesitantly touched the bandage. Blood was leaking through the gauze. It’s an awful thing that an innocent kid can get dragged into something so stupid. Damned Avalanche. I glanced up at the nurses and doctors bustling around the room. They were all busy. There were a lot of people waiting for attention. I doubted this kid was going to be priority anytime soon. The least I could do was take his mind off things.
“Did you save the bullet?”
“Huh?”
I reached into my shirt collar and pulled out my dog tags. Threaded in between them, with a hole bored in it, is a rather sizeable chunk of shrapnel. “You always save the first thing that hits you. To remind you to be more careful next time.”
Michael laughed weakly. “It’s probably still in our wall.”
“Well, you dig it out and hang onto it, just so you remember not to get mixed up in the military or anything. Be something else. Like…I dunno, a plumber or something.”
We chatted for a while longer; of course he asked to see all the weaponry I was carrying. But it was still evident when he moved that the poor little guy was in pain. So then I had an idea.
“Hey, Michael, how’d you like it if I made it stop hurting a bit?” I suggested.
He stared at me. “H-how?”
I winked at him. “Don’t you worry about that. Just a minute.” I pulled a Cure materia from my pocket. I wouldn’t be able to heal the wound, not in the state I was now (my head was still spinning), but I could make it stop hurting. Hospitals don’t allow the use of restorative materia. The long-term effects aren’t understood well enough to take the risks. Even Shinra curbs its use, except in emergencies. This wasn’t an emergency, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. Just so long as I didn’t get caught.
“What’s that?” Michael asked, staring at the little gem. He’d calmed down quite a bit. Hell, maybe I didn’t even need to do anything. It just helped for him to have something to take his mind off things.
“Believe in magic, kid?” I activated the materia and it glowed softly. I touched his arm softly and his face lit up.
“Hey! Hey, it doesn’t hurt anymore!” he exclaimed.
I grinned at him and tucked the materia back in my pocket. “That’s the idea. You gonna be okay, kid?”
Michael nodded vigorously. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
“No problem. You take care of yourself, kid.”
I headed back to my corner and sat back down. That hadn’t done me much good. Using materia takes quite a bit of energy at the best of times and I didn’t really have much to spare, but I was glad I’d been able to help the kid out. I’d started wondering just how long I was going to be stuck in this hospital, when I spotted Rosalind threading her way through the people in the lobby. I hadn’t seen her come in. “Hey, rookie!”
“Sir!” she exclaimed, hurrying through the crowd over to my corner. She looked torn between worry and relief. “Sir, we’ve been looking everywhere for you! Tseng hasn’t heard from you and we all thought the worst! Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
I stared at her. “This is a hospital. You’re supposed to turn your cell phones off.” Thinking back, that was kind of a stupid thing to say, but then, I had been hit in the head with a shovel.
Rosalind stared back at me, then reached into her pocket and turned off her own cell phone. “Sir, what happened?” she questioned, pointing at the hand I had pressed against my forehead.
“What, this?” I pulled my hand away and she gasped a little. I guess it looked worse than it felt. Though it did feel pretty lousy. “I…that’s…uh…” I suddenly realized it would sound kind of stupid to say I’d been clubbed in the head with a shovel. “I just did something kind of stupid, is all.”
She crouched down, peering at the gash, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “I don’t understand, sir. This looks pretty bad. What did that, sir?”
Well, I couldn’t really avoid that question. “A shovel, kind of.”
“A shovel…kind of? Sir?” I think I was just confusing her.
“Yeah. I think it was a shovel. I can’t remember exactly, but the guy did kind of club me in the head with it, so perhaps that’s understandable. I was just minding my own business, pushing back the last of the terrorists, and this crazy guy comes running out of an alley, waving a shovel.”
Rosalind nodded slowly. “Civilian back up.”
“Right. That’s what I thought. I was happy for the help, up until he tried to take my head off with the goddamned shovel.” I winced a bit, rubbing my neck. “That would’ve hurt. I’d be dead right now if I hadn’t ducked. Lucky thing, that was. Much as this smarts, it’s not as bad as taking a shovel to the throat.”
“Lucky.” She winced and her fingers went to her own throat. “You always talk about how bad your luck is in Junon, sir, but the way I see it, you’re luck has to be pretty incredible if you get out of half these situations without serious injury.”
I’d never thought of it like that before. Damned sharp kid. “Well…uh…” I remembered the materia she’d given me and pulled it out of my pocket, handing it back to her and changing the subject. “Thanks for that. Ducking was one thing, but if I’d have had it if he’d gotten in another shot.”
“Oh. W-well, sir…” She blushed and reached into her breast pocket, pulling out my sunglasses and giving them back. “These were an awful lot of help too, sir. It’s terribly dark down there.”
I laughed. “Hey, no problem.” I winced a bit as I put my sunglasses back on my forehead. Rosalind frowned at this and leaned forward, pulling the bandage away and touching the gash lightly.
“Sir, this doesn’t look good,” she told me seriously. “Have any of the doctors looked at it?”
“Nah.”
Rosalind stood up and looked around the room. “You might have a concussion, sir.”
“Yeah, but there are people who’re worse off than me. I’m just a little dizzy. It’s all right, rookie.”
“But, sir, if it’s serious…” She shook her head. “No, sir. I think you need to see a doctor. I’ll just be a minute.”
I reached up and grabbed her wrist. “Rookie, listen to me. I’m all right. Look across the room, near the door. See that little kid?”
Rosalind hesitated and looked across the room at Michael. “Yes, sir…”
“He was here before me. And he hasn’t been seen yet. And until he is, I’m not bugging any of these doctors,” I said firmly. “I’ll be okay.”
Flushing slightly, Rosalind nodded. “I’m sorry, sir,” she apologized. “It’s just that I…we were all very worried about you.”
She’s a nice kid. I was glad she was all right. She looked a bit worse for wear; one leg of her pants was sliced open and soaked with blood, but she wasn’t hurt. I’d have to ask about that later. “It’s okay, rookie. I’m all right.”
“If you say so, sir,” she agreed, still looking at me with a worried expression. “We should go find a payphone to call Tseng, though. He’s still got people looking for you, and he should let them know you’re all right.”
It’s good to work with someone who’s so responsible. I’ll go for ages without getting in touch with HQ. It used to drive Tseng up the wall, until he learned I only call if I’m in trouble. In my case, no news is good news. Unless I’m dead, or something. Then no news is probably bad news. “Good thinking, rookie.”
Rosalind nodded and looked around the waiting room. Not spotting a phone, she shrugged. “I think we should probably go up a floor.”
“I can probably live with that.” I pushed off against the wall, had a slight spell of dizziness. Rosalind caught my arm, but I brushed her off. “Rookie, listen. I’m all right. Just a little dizzy. That’s never killed anyone.”
“All right, sir,” she sighed, pushing open the door of the stairwell. “Be careful on the stairs, sir,” she cautioned. “Do you want my help?”
“Rookie. I appreciate your concern. It’s touching. But you can’t spell ‘mothering’ without ‘smothering,’” I told her shortly.
“You’ve got that backward, sir,” Rosalind responded patiently. “Really, now…”
Whoops. Stupid. “I’ll give you this one straight, then. Quit babying me or I’ll demote you.”
That shut her up, but I could feel her watching me like a hawk as I climbed up the stairs. She jogged up the last few steps and examined the sign on the door. “Sir, this is the maternity ward,” she whispered. “We’d better be quiet.”
“Babies. How ironic.”
“Shhh.” Rosalind shot me a warning look and pushed the door open slowly, peering out into the hallways. It was dark, empty, and quiet on this floor. It was already getting dark outside. It felt weird that the day had gone by so quickly.
Rosalind reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Come on, sir,” she whispered, pulling me down the hallway to a chair next to a payphone. “Sit tight.”
I sat down and wiped at my forehead with my sleeve. It had started bleeding again. Not much, just an irritating trickle that tickled a bit. Sort of a painful, headachey tickle.
“Sir?” I looked up, but it was just Rosalind talking to Tseng. “I found him, sir…yes…well…that is, he says he’s all right…”
I glared at her. “I’m fine!” I hissed.
She ignored me and wrapped the phone cord around her finger. “Well…I don’t know, sir…I think he needs to be looked at. Someone hit him in the head with a shovel…well, yes, that’s what I thought, but there are more serious cases downstairs…we don’t want to be in the way.”
“You’re damn right,” I muttered sourly, straining to hear Tseng’s reply.
“Roger, sir.” I didn’t quite catch what he said, but Rosalind lowered the phone from her ear and pressed it against her shoulder. “He says you’re supposed to go down the hall.”
“No!”
Rosalind lifted the phone again and I heard Tseng speak, “Tell him if he doesn’t go, I’ll tell Rude he got clubbed with a shovel.”
“Tseng says…”
“I heard! Stupid Tseng,” I grumbled, pushing myself up and wandering down the hallway to another chair. Obviously whatever he had to say was for Rosalind’s ears only. I don’t like secrets. They offend me. Especially because I’m particularly bad at keeping them, so no one ever tells me anything.
Rosalind had her little conversation with Tseng in hushed tones, then laughed and hung up. She came down the hallway and leaned forward. “Are you feeling better, sir?”
“Snitch,” I muttered, then decided to try and ignore her.
“Oh sir, really. I’m just concerned about you. When Commander Veld gets here, we’ll be taking his chopper home to Midgar. Three hours is too long to wait before attending to a head injury. If there’s something wrong, it should be taken care of.”
“Why’s Commander Veld coming?” I’m not very good at ignoring people.
Rosalind shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. This was a fairly serious incident, sir. He probably wants to assess the damage in person.”
That made sense, I guess. “Yeah, I suppose so. I kinda figured he’d stay in Midgar with the President.”
down the hallway opened.
A doctor came out, a no-nonsense type woman in her thirties with brownish hair and glasses. She walked over to us, glancing at the floor every few steps. “You’re leaving blood all over my floors,” she informed me, arching an eyebrow.
I got up and pressed my sleeve against the cut again. “Oh. Uh…sorry. We just came up to make a phone call. We’ll head back down. Sorry, doc. Hope we didn’t disturb anyone.”
“I’m the only one awake. My patients are all sleeping. My name is Dr. Kindred…all the other doctors are downstairs helping with triage. They have one of us on each floor, just to be safe. Things are going to be full tonight, I think.”
Rosalind nodded and sighed. “It’s been a terrible day.” She glanced at me. “Maybe there is something to what you say about Junon, sir…”
I grinned wearily. “Yeah. It’s a goddamned conspiracy. Let’s head back down, rookie.”
“Well, wait a moment,” the doctor interrupted. “Were you sent up here?”
“Oh…no. No, we just needed the phone. We’ll go right back down. C’mon rookie.” I grabbed her arm and tugged her towards the door. “Sorry.”
Dr. Kindred shook her head. “Not at all. That cut looks serious. I’ll take a look, if you’d like. There’s no one this floor who requires too much attention and I have the time.”
That was what I’d been afraid of. “W-well…”
Of course, Rosalind chimed right in and drove the final nail into the coffin. “Would you, doctor? I’m a bit worried about him. He got hit in the head with a shovel.”
“Oh, my. Well, we’d best take a look at that, then. I’m a gynecologist by specialty, but I should be able to handle something simple like this,” Dr. Kindred said with a wink. “There’s an examining room just across the hall. I’ll be right with you.”
“Great. Thanks.” That was about all I could say without being horribly impolite. Lord knows, I wouldn’t want to have said anything offensive to the good doctor.
The doctor bustled off down the hallway and Rosalind cast a significant glance at the examining room. I sighed and went in, slumping in a chair. “Nice going, rookie,” I muttered sarcastically.
“She did say it looks serious, sir.”
“Well, any idiot can tell it’s serious! Sheesh. I’m not stupid, rookie. But I mean…a gynecologist. If Rude finds out, I’ll never live this down.”
Rosalind sighed and raised her eyes heavenward. “Sir, an MD’s an MD. Besides, she’ll just be putting a few stitches in your head. Do you want to know what a gynecologist does to me once a year?”
I hoped she took my silence as an indication that no, that was a detail of her personal life she could very well keep to herself. She continued (thankfully along a different subject line.) “When we go back downstairs, we can send some of the minor injuries up to her. She obviously has the time.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Evidently, Rosalind picked up on the rather negative vibes I was having. “Sir, really. It’s not even all that many stitches. It could’ve been far worse.”
“I hate stitches.”
The doctor reentered the room with several instruments of torture and turned on the light. “You’d been in a class of your own if you enjoyed them,” she declared, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. That’s a never a good thing. I don’t care what you’re into, that’s never a good thing. “Now, just let me clean that out.”
Rosalind backed off, presumably to give the doctor some space, and glanced around the room. Dr. Kindred applied some stuff from a bottle to a little gauze pad and brushed it against the cut on my forehead.
“Ow! Cut that out, god damn it!” Okay, so it didn’t really hurt that much, but the more fuss I made, the longer it would be before stitches. I have a bit of a personal objection to stitches.
“Sir! There are babies on this floor!” Rosalind exclaimed, glancing out the open door.
The doctor laughed softly and braced her hand against the middle of my chest, precisely my center of gravity. “It’s all right. I’m more worried about him being loud than I am about him being vulgar. They can’t understand.”
“Oh. Well, still sir. You oughtn’t yell. I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that much.”
“How would you know? She’s not pouring peroxide on your head.”
“It’s not peroxide. It’s just antiseptic. And it’s cleaned now anyway. Here, I’ll anesthetize it and stitch it up…”
That’s the part that really had me worried. “Aww…d’you have to?”
Rosalind blinked. “Sir, what’s so bad about stitches? They don’t even hurt and I’m sure you’ve had far worse…”
Sometimes it’s not the actual experience, but the events that surround the experience that make it negative. “The last time I had stitches was in the middle of a war zone, with screaming and yelling and bombs everywhere. It’s not an event I remember with fondness.” It’s true. I haven’t had stitches ever since. Thankfully, I’ve never been badly hurt enough to need stitches. Well, no. In most cases, there are alternatives. And in the cases where there aren’t, I’ll just take the scars.
Rosalind looked a little confused at that. “A war zone…you were at Wutai, sir? But you just said there were bombs…they didn’t employ modern tactics in Wutai…it’s against the Gongaga Accord. Why were you at Wutai, sir?”
“I wasn’t. I mean Fort Condor.” There’ve been two big military conflicts in the last decade. The most recent, which is actually still in the process of shutting down, was the war in Wutai. The other was the war with Fort Condor, about seven years earlier.
“You, sir? At Fort Condor?” Rosalind exclaimed. “That was ages ago…you would’ve been…”
I winced as that wretched doctor applied something to my forehead that made the skin get all numb. “I was eighteen. Too damn young to be in a war.”
“Why were you, sir? Turks aren’t typically involved in direct military conflict…”
“I wasn’t a Turk.” That awful doctor was threading her needle. I seriously and honestly believe that all women secretly enjoy seeing men in pain. It must have something to do with having babies or hormones or whatever it was that Rosalind was talking about. “When I started with Shinra I was just a soldier.”
“You were, sir? Really?”
“I was drafted, kind of. It wasn’t my idea.”
“Now, you’ll feel the needle, but it won’t hurt,” the doctor murmured. Great. Just absolutely terrific. If my fingers clenched any tighter I’d probably tear a chunk out of the chair.
Rosalind crouched down on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest. “What was it like, sir?”
God, stitches feel creepy. She was right, it didn’t hurt, but I kind of wished it did. At least the pain would probably mask the sensation of the needle going through my skin, then pulling the thread tight, then knotting it. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. I hated it. It was terrible. Worst thing that ever happened to me. I’m not a soldier.”
“We are military though, sir,” Rosalind remarked. “Not as much as some of the other factions, but we’re still military.”
“There’s a big difference, rookie. A Turk…compared to a soldier…it’s just different. I mean, there’s a reason Turks don’t get involved in war. We can’t be around dozens and dozens of dying people. We’re not cut out for it.” It’s true. Turks are conditioned to eliminate threats, one on one. We know what it’s like to stare someone in the eyes and kill them. There’s something personal about the way we do things. So doing it on a large scale is hard for us. Conversely, I guess a soldier is used to wiping out dozens of people in one shot, impersonally, so doing it one on one would be hard for a soldier.
“I studied about it in school, sir. Fort Condor, I mean. And my father was there. He told me everything about it. Lieutenant-Colonel Joseph Kramer. Did you know him, sir?” she questioned, sounding almost eager.
I couldn’t understand why she wanted to talk about it. I sure didn’t. “I can’t remember. Probably not.”
She looked a little disappointed at that, but continued. “Well…what about some of the battles, sir? Were you there for the capture of Zemzellet Ridge? What about the attack on the southern tunnels?”
To be honest, I don’t remember much of anything specific about being in the military. It wasn’t something important to me. It was just two or three of some of the worst months of my life. “Listen, rookie. It was hell. You think what went on in the streets today was bad? Imagine if that had been a hundred times worse. I don’t remember anything but screaming and dying and being scared the whole time.”
Rosalind stared at me for a few moments. “But, sir…”
“No, rookie. I don’t care what your father’s told you. He hasn’t told you everything if he didn’t mention what it’s like to be eighteen years old and caught in the middle of a war that hasn’t got anything to do with you. There wasn’t anything great about Fort Condor. It was just hell.”
She fell silent. “I…I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I didn’t know it was something painful for you.”
I don’t know what the hell it is about Rosalind, but I’d just told her something I’ve hardly told anyone. I don’t talk about Fort Condor. If it comes up in casual conversation, I clam right up. Then she brings it up and I tell her precisely how I feel about the whole damn thing, and why. People who are easy to talk to are dangerous. “It’s okay, rookie. It’s just something I don’t really like thinking about.”
“Sorry, sir,” Rosalind apologized again.
“All done,” the doctor announced, cutting her thread and taping down a bandage over my eye. “There, now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
People who are easy to talk to also make you forget when you’re supposed to be complaining about something. “I guess not.” I touched my forehead. It was still numb and that was kind of irritating. “How long before my head feels right again?”
“An hour or so,” Dr. Kindred answered, shrugging. “After that, it’ll probably sting from time to time. I recommend you wash it with warm water twice a day and change the dressing every two days. Have the stitches removed in about a week.”
“Right. Gotcha. Thanks.”
She smiled. “Oh, any time. I’m glad to help. Now, if you should seen any signs of infection…” Her pager buzzed and interrupted her before she could finish. Her expression suddenly darkened. “Oh. Him again.”
“Him?” I echoed. “Why is there a ‘him’ in the maternity ward?”
“He’s a ‘high-profile’ patient. Overflow from the upper floors. He was making too much of a fuss in the wards with serious cases, so they dumped him down here and now I have to deal with him.” Dr. Kindred snorted. “High profile. Can you believe that? I don’t care if he’s the Emperor of Wutai, he has no right to be so difficult and demanding when there are seriously injured people in this hospital.”
Rosalind took a firm hold of my arm. “I’m sorry to hear about that. Thanks for all your help. Come on, sir, let’s go back downstairs.”
She gave me a bit of a yank towards the door, but I shrugged her off. “What’s the rush, rookie? Difficult, huh? Want me to go straighten him out?” I did owe the good doctor a favor, and the stitches hadn’t really been so bad. “The guy doesn’t deserve priority, just because he’s got money.”
“No, sir, that’s not a good idea,” Rosalind said firmly, grabbing my arm again. “Let’s go.”
The doctor nodded. “It’s all right. I appreciate the offer, but I’d best just deal with him myself. Besides, I don’t think it’s advisable to try and ‘straighten out’ President Shinra.”
“President Shinra’s here?” I didn’t make the connections I should have at that point. I couldn’t figure out what in the world he’d be doing in a hospital.
Dr. Kindred nodded again as her pager buzzed insistently. “Yes. Would you like to come see him?”
“No!” Rosalind exclaimed. “No, we’re fine. We won’t bother him. Come, sir, let’s go back downstairs…”
“Rookie, what’s your problem?” I’d decided that the President was probably here to meet Veld, who would be coming by chopper to this hospital. “Hell, I don’t like the guy either, but he is our boss…”
The doctor headed down the hallway, motioning for us to follow her. “He’s just down the hall. Maybe you can help calm him down. He’s got a terrible temper.”
“I’ll do my best. He likes me, after all.”
Rosalind didn’t add anything to this; she just sort of quietly followed, looking a little sick.
Dr. Kindred pushed open the door of the President’s room and stepped in, going over to the foot of the bed. He was sitting in a striped hospital gown, propped up by pillows, with an IV in his arm, and he was turning his favorite shade of magenta. And he promptly started screaming at the doctor. “About time! What sort of hospital is this? I am an injured man, damn it!”
When he said “injured” things sort of clicked. I’d totally forgotten about the President. I’d been more worried about Rosalind and about myself…I’d just left him, alone, at his hotel. And, evidently, this had resulted in some very bad, bad stuff. Not as bad as things were about to get, though, because all of a sudden he spotted me.
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