FFAC: Carpe Diem
for aslah who requested non-pron tseru. have zero FF knowledge except for crack subbed FFAC and insane googling and wiki-fu for the FF back-story, but I'LL TRY MY BEST FOR J00 BECAUSE MY LOVE FOR J00 IS STRONG. ♥
Carpe Diem
by omi
The sickness came upon him one day. A patch of dark against pale skin caught out of the corner of the eye in his reflection as he came out of his bath. He closed his eyes, shook his head slightly. He'd been so tired lately -- the byproduct of back to back meetings and rehab sessions and rebuilding issues -- he was starting to see dark spots in his vision.
But when he opened his eyes again and the patch of shadow obstinately remained, just behind his shoulder, Rufus Shinra knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had been infected with Geostigma. It fitted. His recent bouts of unexplained tiredness. The sickness of the soul. And now, the first physical manifestation. Geostigma. The knowledge sank like stone into water, the effects rippling through his thoughts.
He knew what was coming, his future unspooling before him like a broken reel. First the loss of energy. Then hallucinations. After that, the bruises that would bloom into black weeping sores. The body, fighting the plague, expending all its energy in a futile effort to expel the foreign cells invading his body, invading his brain. Incurable.
Incurable.
There was, thought Rufus with no small sense of irony, some great cosmic payback at work here. Jenova strikes back. He sat back on the edge of the bath he'd just came out of. Time to stop, re-evaluate.
Rufus Shinra wasn't about to let something as petty as an incurable plague stop him.
Megalomania ran in the Shinra blood after all. His father and him. Diametrically different in their approaches, of course, but the end purpose was always the same. After the Diamond Incident though, he'd decided to change tactics. He refused to be placed within the same ranks as Jenova, Sephiroth, Hojo and their ilk. They had hubris aplenty, enough to match the Shinra, truth be told, but absolutely no style to speak of.
Rufus had rather fancied the thought of himself as new penitent Saviour of the Planet, beloved by the masses. And he'd be damned if he let the Geostigma get in his way.
Two knocks sounded -- for politeness and only politeness -- and Tseng pushed the door open without waiting for permission and walked in. 'You've been in the bath for some time now --' Tseng started to say, his eyes flickering past Rufus' nudity, his expression outwardly unaffected except for a brief spark in his eyes only Rufus could read.
'Stop,' ordered Rufus. The thought, to keep Tseng in the dark, came and was dismissed in the same instant. There was no point, he'd find out soon enough anyway. And then the more immediate ramifications of the plague hit Rufus, and he mourned the demise of his sex life. No more unprotected human contact. No more sex, period. The realisation hit him hard, and he said, more brutally than he otherwise would, 'Go away. I've been infected.'
Tseng took two steps towards Rufus. Stopped. A crack in his usually impassive face, 'Are you certain?'
For answer, Rufus stood up, drew himself to his full height, perfect grecian proportions of white gilded with gold, and slowly swivelled on one foot to show the black telltale bruise on his back.
Tseng reached for Rufus instinctively, then caught himself. 'I'll call the doctors,' he said, his voice thick with some unnamed emotion that Rufus had never heard from him.
'There is no point. Not unless the world has discovered a cure in the half an hour I took to bathe,' Rufus forced coldness in his voice, as he slowly reseated himself. No time to waste. 'Until then, what I need right now are bandages, and the status report on the escaped Sephiroth clones, and the update on the rebuilding of Midgar and in that order.'
'I would advise bandages, the doctor, and bedrest instead, Shachou,' countered Tseng, implacable as stone.
'There is no cure!' At louder volume now, almost slipping in control.
'I'll make them look harder.'
Rufus almost laughed. That was pure Tseng. His Turk. But. 'There is no time left.' His eyes gleamed with a feverish gleam. 'I don't plan to die like this. I have things to do, to finish, you hear? There'll be more than enough time to rest when I'm dead, but now, NOW is the time to push and get everything moving to completion. Now, while I am still standing and thinking --' and alive. But Rufus left the last words unsaid. Tseng would know. Tseng always knows, without words or gestures. Tseng knew.
He didn't realise he was crying until Tseng came forward, dropped a robe around his nudity, a towel against the fierce wetness on his cheeks. 'I'll bring you bandages and those reports you wanted,' Tseng said, kneeling before him, his face calm and steady as stone. 'And then we'll rest. We'll rest and continue tomorrow.'
Rufus looked down, tangled his hand into Tseng's hair. 'I want you and Elena to go retrieve what's left of Jenova from the Northern Crater,' he said, voice steady despite the tears. 'Those damned clones are up to something. I know it. It all comes back to Jenova and we have to get there first. We should have burned the thrice-cursed thing when we had the chance,' he said, the last with undisguised petulance. But his brain was already jumping ahead, calculating possibilities. Blackmail; a iron-hold against the clones. And he held the trump card. Looked up and saw the smile in Tseng's eyes. At least the man had the wit not to let it show on his face. 'I still might. Burn it, I mean. I'll even do it personally.'
Tseng slid an arm under Rufus' arm, slid him up to his feet, smooth as silk. 'When that happens, I'll help you hold the matches.'
Rufus let him hold him, give him his whole weight as they walked back to the bedroom. 'You'd better,' he said. And his hand curled around his and held it bone-tight.
Seize the day, the hour, the minute, the second. While there is still breath in this body and warm blood. Seize the day.
- fini -
Carpe Diem
by omi
The sickness came upon him one day. A patch of dark against pale skin caught out of the corner of the eye in his reflection as he came out of his bath. He closed his eyes, shook his head slightly. He'd been so tired lately -- the byproduct of back to back meetings and rehab sessions and rebuilding issues -- he was starting to see dark spots in his vision.
But when he opened his eyes again and the patch of shadow obstinately remained, just behind his shoulder, Rufus Shinra knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had been infected with Geostigma. It fitted. His recent bouts of unexplained tiredness. The sickness of the soul. And now, the first physical manifestation. Geostigma. The knowledge sank like stone into water, the effects rippling through his thoughts.
He knew what was coming, his future unspooling before him like a broken reel. First the loss of energy. Then hallucinations. After that, the bruises that would bloom into black weeping sores. The body, fighting the plague, expending all its energy in a futile effort to expel the foreign cells invading his body, invading his brain. Incurable.
Incurable.
There was, thought Rufus with no small sense of irony, some great cosmic payback at work here. Jenova strikes back. He sat back on the edge of the bath he'd just came out of. Time to stop, re-evaluate.
Rufus Shinra wasn't about to let something as petty as an incurable plague stop him.
Megalomania ran in the Shinra blood after all. His father and him. Diametrically different in their approaches, of course, but the end purpose was always the same. After the Diamond Incident though, he'd decided to change tactics. He refused to be placed within the same ranks as Jenova, Sephiroth, Hojo and their ilk. They had hubris aplenty, enough to match the Shinra, truth be told, but absolutely no style to speak of.
Rufus had rather fancied the thought of himself as new penitent Saviour of the Planet, beloved by the masses. And he'd be damned if he let the Geostigma get in his way.
Two knocks sounded -- for politeness and only politeness -- and Tseng pushed the door open without waiting for permission and walked in. 'You've been in the bath for some time now --' Tseng started to say, his eyes flickering past Rufus' nudity, his expression outwardly unaffected except for a brief spark in his eyes only Rufus could read.
'Stop,' ordered Rufus. The thought, to keep Tseng in the dark, came and was dismissed in the same instant. There was no point, he'd find out soon enough anyway. And then the more immediate ramifications of the plague hit Rufus, and he mourned the demise of his sex life. No more unprotected human contact. No more sex, period. The realisation hit him hard, and he said, more brutally than he otherwise would, 'Go away. I've been infected.'
Tseng took two steps towards Rufus. Stopped. A crack in his usually impassive face, 'Are you certain?'
For answer, Rufus stood up, drew himself to his full height, perfect grecian proportions of white gilded with gold, and slowly swivelled on one foot to show the black telltale bruise on his back.
Tseng reached for Rufus instinctively, then caught himself. 'I'll call the doctors,' he said, his voice thick with some unnamed emotion that Rufus had never heard from him.
'There is no point. Not unless the world has discovered a cure in the half an hour I took to bathe,' Rufus forced coldness in his voice, as he slowly reseated himself. No time to waste. 'Until then, what I need right now are bandages, and the status report on the escaped Sephiroth clones, and the update on the rebuilding of Midgar and in that order.'
'I would advise bandages, the doctor, and bedrest instead, Shachou,' countered Tseng, implacable as stone.
'There is no cure!' At louder volume now, almost slipping in control.
'I'll make them look harder.'
Rufus almost laughed. That was pure Tseng. His Turk. But. 'There is no time left.' His eyes gleamed with a feverish gleam. 'I don't plan to die like this. I have things to do, to finish, you hear? There'll be more than enough time to rest when I'm dead, but now, NOW is the time to push and get everything moving to completion. Now, while I am still standing and thinking --' and alive. But Rufus left the last words unsaid. Tseng would know. Tseng always knows, without words or gestures. Tseng knew.
He didn't realise he was crying until Tseng came forward, dropped a robe around his nudity, a towel against the fierce wetness on his cheeks. 'I'll bring you bandages and those reports you wanted,' Tseng said, kneeling before him, his face calm and steady as stone. 'And then we'll rest. We'll rest and continue tomorrow.'
Rufus looked down, tangled his hand into Tseng's hair. 'I want you and Elena to go retrieve what's left of Jenova from the Northern Crater,' he said, voice steady despite the tears. 'Those damned clones are up to something. I know it. It all comes back to Jenova and we have to get there first. We should have burned the thrice-cursed thing when we had the chance,' he said, the last with undisguised petulance. But his brain was already jumping ahead, calculating possibilities. Blackmail; a iron-hold against the clones. And he held the trump card. Looked up and saw the smile in Tseng's eyes. At least the man had the wit not to let it show on his face. 'I still might. Burn it, I mean. I'll even do it personally.'
Tseng slid an arm under Rufus' arm, slid him up to his feet, smooth as silk. 'When that happens, I'll help you hold the matches.'
Rufus let him hold him, give him his whole weight as they walked back to the bedroom. 'You'd better,' he said. And his hand curled around his and held it bone-tight.
Seize the day, the hour, the minute, the second. While there is still breath in this body and warm blood. Seize the day.
- fini -