(no subject)
Snow drifted down around him, falling softly. Almost as if it could feel the pain running through his city.
Sometimes instead of feeling too cold, he felt nothing at all. So here he was, smoking on his balcony while he gazed over the greenish glow of the city he’d grown up in. Here and there the seeming peace was broken by lights of gunfire and materia being activated. Whether it belonged to military police or rebels was a mystery. Either way it disturbed him. He was no stranger to war, but he wanted his city to be free of it.
For a long time he’d looked down on his father’s way of doing things. That was why he’d been more or less exiled to Junon, but of course he was expected home on certain holidays. How could he prevent more damage being done to Midgar…? Money obviously didn’t work. It simply corrupted everyone it touched. A necessary evil sure, but not in the way his old man was using it now.
Shouting broke out somewhere far below, drawing his attention. Screams of fear managed to reach him. He frowned, listening to the unintelligible noises. After a few minutes the commotion stopped, just like it always seemed to when fear came into play.
That was it: Fear. The general populace could easily be controlled by a show of military power. Their troops would just have to be trained away from mercy. Who would want to cause a scene if there were tangible consequences for their actions? His lips curved up in a faint smile at the idea. While he was here he would have to visit his mother’s grave and tell her about it. He would never forget how many times she had protected him, or what she had taught him. Without her he wouldn’t even be standing here.
One of the radical groups had gotten lucky that day. How they came across the information had never been clear, but they had known where she would be. If he hadn’t wanted to go with her so badly, perhaps she would have lived. Of course, a child doesn’t have a grasp of such things. All he had known then was he didn’t want to be without his mother. He had had an irrational fit about it, crying and throwing a tantrum. She had given him an exasperated look, but smiled anyway and agreed to bring him with. That day was burned into his memory…
They had gone to the slums to visit some friends of hers, or at least that’s what he assumed they were. He would never know, now. After stopping for a couple items at a store they went into one of the larger houses there, left over from the days before the plate had covered the towns below it. No one had answered, but she’d smiled and told him that was to be expected since it was a surprise. She produced a key from her pocket and opened the door.
He had been told to wait in the dining room of the house with the present. It seemed like a long time later that she came rushing into the room for him, saying they had to leave. The calm in her face was at odds with her tone and the streaks on her face. He didn’t understand, what about the present? “We’ll give it to them later,” she’d told him. Too late, though. The house suddenly began to shake. How they had gotten under the table, he didn’t remember. What he did remember was being under her, unable to breathe, and somehow squirming out from under her and the heavy table on top of them.
Her eyes had been open, facing him as he shook her. That was the first time he’d understood blood-it had been all over, dripping from her mouth too. Her expression didn’t match, again. She looked happy. That she had protected her child? Perhaps. After some time had passed he had just sat there holding her hand, not realizing hers was starting to stiffen.
It had only really hit home when the Turks showed up. That was the first time he had met Tseng, when he was still considered a rookie.
Rufus shook his head slightly to clear away the memories. He knew he should go in now, before he ended up with hypothermia. His mother certainly would not approve of him dying in such a stupid manner.