II

The kid looked like he was going to cry.

Reno hadn’t known what to expect when Tseng sent him chasing after the Vice President with just a handful of apparently personal letters and reports. Popular rumor had it that Rufus’ title was an empty one, a vice-presidency in name only. And that, to Reno, meant that there shouldn’t have been any paperwork to bring the Shinra princeling. And he’d grumbled every freezing mile of the way to Icicle Inn.

Now, looking at Rufus clutching that note like it was his dearest possession in the world, he was starting to think that maybe the trip had been worthwhile. For the kid, anyway.

He’d expected, subconsciously or unconsciously, to meet some arrogant bratling with an inflated opinion of himself, commanding his little kingdom up here in the frozen north with his guards running to serve his every whim. He’d found, instead, the guards carousing in front of the fireplace in the main hall, while the Shinra heir himself stood by a window in a darkened room and froze himself to death. A very young, very depressed, and apparently suicidal Shinra heir.

“Take care of him,” Tseng had said, pulling him to one side and shoving the dispatches into his hand.

“But boss, I’m only there for as long as it takes to drop these off and get back…”

Tseng had looked at him then, in that way that said: You know what I mean.

He hadn’t. Well, not really. Not until he got here.

“Thank you,” Rufus said distantly, apparently coming back to himself, and rifling quickly through the rest of the papers. “Was there any word from my father?”

“Nope,” Reno said. A muscle twitched in Rufus’ cheek, and for a moment, Reno was quite convinced that he saw dashed hopes and rising frustration in those blue eyes. Then Rufus blinked, and the gaze that met his was level and emotionless.

“Very well. You’re dismissed.”

Not so quick, kiddo. I still have secondary orders to carry out.

“Got a reply for anyone in HQ?”

“Not at this time.”

Reno paused, as Rufus returned his gaze to the window. Outside, the snow had started to fall again.

“Kid…”

“That’s Vice President to you,” Rufus said coldly.

“You okay?” Reno continued. “You know, I suck at this shit, but you looked pretty damned upset when I came in.”

Silence greeted him for a moment. Then Rufus turned back, one elegant golden eyebrow arched. “Did Tseng also ask you to babysit me?”

“You bet,” Reno said, kicking off his boots, and sprawling backwards on the bed. “I’m a Turk. Can’t go around failing my missions.”

“You may inform Tseng that I am fine.”

“What, and lie to my superior officer? No way, man. Veld may be the one in charge of hirin’ and firin’, but if Tseng gets pissed off, I wouldn’t give a marshmallow in Hell’s chances for my—“

“—You have a long trip ahead of you tomorrow,” Rufus cut him off. “Good night.”

“No,” Reno told the ceiling. “You are most definitely not alright if you allow a complete stranger to waltz into your room and tell him to shoot you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Rufus was clenching his jaw. The staff back at HQ called him emotionless, and Reno had to admit that he was pretty far ahead of his game, for a fourteen year old… but he hadn’t quite mastered the art yet. Maybe in a few years. But now, he could see the warring conflict of emotions dancing across that young face.

“Don’t you want to know how Tseng is doing?” he asked, keeping his tone casual. Go on, kid. Take the bait…

“I understand that Tseng is capable of looking after himself,” the too-calm reply came.

Wow. You’re good at this. Time for some serious firepower. “…I hear that he’s in love with Scarlet.”

The sudden flash of shock on the boy’s face told him that he had hit his mark. Possessive, aren’t we? As far as I know both of you are only friends, but it’s easy to think that he’s forgotten about you, isn’t it? Even with his letter sitting there in your hands, it’s been two years since you’ve seen the guy, and since he was your bodyguard since you were twelve, you probably got used to having his wholesale attention…

“…I was kidding,” Reno admitted, and braced himself for the expected storm.

“That,” Rufus bit out, “Was in extremely bad taste.”

Reno flipped himself upright again and shot him a grin. “You need to relax, you know. Loosen up. This trip will be over soon enough, whether you worry about it or not.”

“Two years.” Rufus turned to the window, pressing knuckles into the glass. “Two years. And still no recall order.” He exhaled quietly, and his breath misted against the pane.

“What do you need an order for? You’re the Vice Prez, aren’t you? Surely that’s gotta count for something.”

“It doesn’t.” Rufus’ words were so soft that he had to strain to catch them.

“Then make it count for something. You can’t just let your old man push you around like that. You know what? I think he’s just shoving you off to get you out of his sight. I bet he’s forgotten all about you.”

Rufus whirled, furious. “How—“

“Yep. He’s definitely forgotten all about you.”

Rufus was seething. “Don’t you think I don’t know that? The number of months we’ve spent here without so much as new orders?”

Reno shrugged. “Seems to me that your job’s done. You should pack up and go home. You don’t need a recall order to do that, you know. You’re the freaking Vice Prez. Use it. Stop letting them use you.”

“And then what? Get banished off again to the Ancients know where? Mideel, perhaps?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t know how the system works. But you do. If you don’t want to leave, there has to be a way to stop it. Stop sulking and fix your own damn problems, kid. Tseng will help you, but only if you get off your pretty ass and go and get his help.”

Whoops. Maybe he’d gone a biiiit too far with that one. Maybe it was time to… hm… call for back up.

He tugged his PHS out of his pocket. “Tseng’s number is speed dial number 2. Go ahead. The bill’s charged to the company. And tell him he owes me a pay raise for this one.”

“Communications are down,” Rufus pointed out.

“We’re on a special satellite network.” He tossed the phone across the room, and turned to leave. “Oh yeah. I’m leaving at 0800 tomorrow. Heard that your chopper got nuked. Mine’s big enough to take you, but we’ll have to leave the grunts behind. Show up on the helipad if you want a lift.”

As he sauntered out of the door, hands stuck in his pocket and whistling some jaunty seasonal tune, he heard the sound of phone buttons being pressed.

Part 3 and 4 to come.

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