An Apogee in Everyone

Turks/Rufus. PG. ~500 words. For Spring Kink.
His Turks circle the bed, grim black shadows smeared with grit and grime.

Rufus remembers light, heat, and pain. The Planet ripping his body and his city to pieces. The same power that killed him brings him back to wretched life in the cool, soothing wash of Tseng’s voice.

His Turks circle the bed, grim black shadows smeared with grit and grime. Blood plasters Elena’s fine blond hair to her skull. Reno stands nonchalantly, attempting to cover how he favours his left leg.

Rude’s deep voice is barely a murmur, and Rufus gasps, air burning his lungs before the spell sinks into his bones. Another follows, and another, green-blue haze enveloping him until their voices fade and he finds he can make out whose life is given to sustain his simply by the feel – gentle, determined, frantic, vicious – of the spell cradling him.

He realises they’re giving up too much seconds before the blackness surges up to swallow him whole.


Sunlight is warm on his skin. Callused fingers brush through his hair. His eyes refuse to open. He can’t tell who’s touching him until he draws a breath that stinks of sweat and blood. A smile tugs at cracked lips.

“Reno,” he says, his voice an animal rasp.

“Close, boss, but not quite,” Reno says from too far away.

Rufus tries to lift a hand to touch the fingers resting cool on his cheek, and can’t. He ignores the panic; only Reno would come to him reeking of the job.

“Sir,” Elena says.

Copper bile sears the back of Rufus’s throat. A door opens and closes softly. Rude’s heavy tread crosses the room.

“Wyman’s dead,” Rude says. “Peller made for Junon. Got him by the old reactor. Says he’s still in.”

“You believe him?” Reno says.

Rufus struggles to find his voice again. He needs to know what the hell is going on. A beaten-child sound escapes him, and he hates that as much as how the soft touch of Elena’s fingers to his lips is a relief.

“Fine.” Tseng’s voice. “There’s food in what’s left of the kitchen. Sleep in shifts. Reno, you’re with me.”

A chair scrapes the floor. “Where to?”

“Junon,” Tseng says. Rufus clings to the sound of their voices and the shuffle of bags being packed. “The mansion is close to falling down about our ears. He needs to be somewhere stable.”

Reno makes a noise of agreement. Metal scrapes metal, soft clinks; mags loaded and slid home. “We’re gonna off half of ‘em, should nab the gil.”

“Elena,” Tseng says.


“Wait,” Rufus hisses. “What-”

Someone leans over him – Reno this time, he’s certain. “Ain’t doctors, boss, so you gotta shut up before you kill yourself again.”

Rufus tears his eyes open, not caring this time about the wretched sound he makes. “What are you-” his throat burns.

“Gonna go do our jobs,” Reno says. “Kill some people that need killing.” His face blurs as he leans close, his kiss soft and brief on sore, cracked lips. “Gotta save what’s left of your Company for ya.”


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