Chapter Text
To call their destination a village would be an overstatement. It was a loose cluster of rural farms resting in the foothills of a mountain chain. They came in hiking clothes with backpacking gear, posing as through hikers looking for their next challenge. It wasn’t a difficult act to pull off, not when they’d had to make a five hour hike into the village from their drop off point. Reno’s stamina had flagged before Rude’s, but he was feeling it too, and both of them staggered into the middle of what passed as a sort of town square, winded and burning.
There was a tiny church, a tinier post office, and a shabby little general store not much larger than a shed. All three buildings were marked ‘CLOSED’, the general store with faded hours posted in the window. Open three days a week, and today was not one of them.
“Well, shit,” Reno said, slinging his backpack to the ground against the wall of the small building, a porch awning offering them a hint of shade. He plopped down and sat with his back against it, unscrewing the lid of his canteen and taking long, gulping drinks. Rude dropped his pack beside Reno’s, scanning the area.
“They told us not to expect an inn.”
“They didn’t say to expect a fuckin’ ghost town! I woulda packed some booze.”
Rude laughed and settled in next to Reno, pulling out some ration bars and his own water bottle. “That would have just added to the weight you had to haul.”
“I don’t know, man. Some things in life are just that important.”
“Mm.” Rude pulled a pack of cigarettes and lighter out of the front pocket of his pack and lit one for himself before passing them to Reno.
“My hero,” Reno said, not entirely disingenuous, which almost made Rude blush. He watched his partner’s deft hands as he held the cigarette between long fingers and clicked the lighter on. The way his mouth pressed a thin line as he puffed twice, three times, to ensure the end of the cigarette caught before he passed the lighter back and took a drag.
They’d had a rough start at the beginning of their partnership, but those days were long past - their synergy was undeniable, and at some point Rude had come to think of Reno not only as his partner, but as his friend. He knew him enough to think of things like, say, packing cigarettes for a mission that did not promise a general store. And if it was gratifying when Reno perked up because Rude had thought of him, if it was nice to watch him smoke and scan the landscape, distracted enough that Rude could candidly take in his sharp features - well. That was just a bonus.
“So I think it’s somewhere around that third peak,” Reno said, studying the hazy silhouettes of the mountains. They still had some daylight left, but not enough to make the trek to their target location. “Looks closer than it is, I bet.”
“The briefing said it would be another three hours from the trailhead.”
“‘Trailhead’” Reno said with a grimace, “The old chocobo footpath.”
“Mm. We can set the tents up here and get an early start.”
They’d been tasked to take down an especially virulent cast-off Avalanche cell, which referred to themselves only as The Fourth. Their protests were ugly and violent in a way that was not conducive to Shin Ra’s public image - elaborate suicides in the face of fracking expansion, corpses of men and women strewn over crates and construction equipment emblazoned with the Shin Ra logo. With the number of dead, it was a mystery how they were even afloat to begin with. The imagery was effective and the public response was often shocked silence, with a sometimes reproachful eye turned to the electricity conglomerate, but Avalanche had still denounced their practices. Even in extremist organizations, there was such a thing as too much ideological purity.
The only information they had was that the leader was named Wererat - no gender or age, no description - and that it was suspected there was an additional party higher up the ladder orchestrating from afar. And apparently, that ‘afar’ was somewhere in a cave up in those mountains.
“Something smelled kinda off about the briefing,” Reno remarked idly. “You know how reports get all janky when someone does a rushed redact job?”
“Yeah,” Rude said. It wasn’t uncommon for them to work off limited information, but it was good to keep in mind on an op like this, in the belly of the beast, as it were.
They finished their cigarettes and choked down their rations and Rude got to assembling his tent, laying everything out neatly on the ground to establish a footprint. Reno wandered around the perimeter of the three buildings, sniffing around and trampling the grass. Rude was just in the process of combining the poles when Reno whistled to him, nodding his chin in the direction of the path they’d come into town on.
Rude looked. Two chocobos were approaching, one with a figure astride it. He and Reno exchanged glances before Reno came to stand beside him, waiting as the rider drew nearer. They were covered in a wide-brimmed hat that fell low over their eyes, and a cloak pulled up to cover their mouth and nose - but as they came up close and signaled for their chocobo to halt, it was clear there was something different about them. The way they sat, the shape of them beneath their clothing was not quite human.
“Hello,” the rider said. It was the voice of a young man, but the figure was strange and hunched. Although Rude usually let Reno do the talking, something gave him a feeling, and he smoothly interjected when he saw Reno open his mouth.
“Hey there. We’re on the second leg of a through hike. You live around here? Okay if we camp out overnight? We’ll be out by first light.”
It was difficult to see the rider’s eyes, but Rude could tell they were being sized up.
“No one will mind if you stay here, but it gets cold at night. I have a hay loft you can sleep in.”
He looked to Reno and raised his eyebrows over his glasses. Reno stepped close to Rude and linked their arms, flashing an apologetic grin to the rider. “Excuse us for a minute.”
Rude felt himself being tugged a few steps away. The sudden contact had him feeling light-headed.
Reno leaned in close so they wouldn’t be easily overheard. “What do you think? I don’t wanna freeze my ass off out here, and maybe he has food.”
“Risky,” Rude said, “But he might have local information.”
“Am I hearing a ‘yea’?”
“Can’t hurt.”
Reno gave him a little nod and then turned a winning smile towards the rider. “That would be great, but we wouldn’t want to put you out!”
“No. It would weigh on my mind to leave you here.”
“Your place far?”
“A little. Gila here can carry you and your pack,” the rider said, gesturing to the second chocobo following him on a lead while looking towards Reno. He turned his head to Rude, “You, maybe not…”
Reno grinned at Rude, “Tough break, yo.”
“I’ll walk,” Rude said, hands up. He rolled the canvas of his tent tightly and stowed it neatly back in his pack.
And so they set off at a slow pace, Rude with his pack on foot, Reno with his on a chocobo, and the rider leading.
“I’m Piper,” the rider said.
“I’m Reno, that’s Rude.”
“You’ve done through hiking before? We get a group every now and then, more rarely solos.”
“This is our third together. Rude got me hooked and I haven’t wanted to stop since.”
This was in line with their backstory, but Reno was ad-libbing. Rude was content to listen and take mental notes as he placed one foot in front of the other. This one was a common thread that Reno liked to follow - Rude introduced him to something and Reno got addicted. The idea appealed deeply to Rude. They never brought it up outside of their acting, and it made it feel sacred. Like their secret game.
Or maybe Reno was just playing up a story he had gotten used to. Either way, Rude wouldn’t ask, so Reno wouldn’t tell.
“That sounds nice,” Piper said in his easy, pleasing voice, “To have an adventure with someone like that.”
Reno paused a little too long, so Rude stole a glance up at him. He was too far behind to see Reno’s face, but he caught a hint of a blush on the tips of his ears, which, annoyingly, caused Rude to blush too.
“Er… Y-yeah. I mean, yeah. It is. It’s pretty cool.” Rude watched as Reno lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck and pointedly did not turn around to look at Rude.
“You lived here your whole life?” Rude asked, trying to pick up the conversation and cut Reno some slack.
“Yes,” Piper said easily, “I farm and do some woodwork to get by. It doesn’t cost much more than labor to live out here.”
“You’re alone?” Reno asked, regaining his composure.
“Yes.”
Reno whistled. “You must be pretty tough.”
“I suppose so.” Piper said. “Hang on, the incline is steep here. The girls are going to compensate for it.”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than both of the chocobos lurched forward, their muscular legs hauling themselves and their riders up the hillside. Reno let out an inelegant sound and grasped at the saddle to keep himself upright as the weight of his pack pulled him back. Rude inevitably lagged behind, unable to match their strides.
Once the path evened back out, they were near the top of a lightly wooded foothill, bordered by a crude hand-cut wooden fence. There were several rows of vegetables growing, some Rude recognized, others he didn’t. Down the end of a long dirt road was a small stone hut with a thatch roof, and not too far off was what looked like a barn with some stables for livestock. Piper and Reno were already near enough to the hut and dismounting their chocobos. He could see Reno’s animated body language as they spoke, but he was out of earshot.
The chocobos were untacked and turned out into one of the pastures by the time Rude was caught up. Piper opened the door to the hut.
“Come in for now and rest, I’ll make some dinner.”
Rude and Reno exchanged another quick look and shrugged.
“A hot meal would be sweet,” Reno said, making his way through the doorway.
“We can trade you some of our ration bars. They don’t taste good, but they’re shelf stable.” Rude added.
“No need,” Piper said, “I have plenty of surplus.” He left the door open behind him and removed his hat and cloak. He was human, but different. His face was asymmetrical and shaped strangely, and his back arched up and over the top of his head. It would be difficult to guess his age without the soft sound of his voice. His appearance was startling, but his personality was kind and gentle, and Rude couldn’t find anything in himself except for a twinge of sympathy - perhaps he had isolated himself by choice. He scolded himself for the thought immediately. Nobody wanted to be pitied.
He glanced at Reno. He stared, but only for a moment, before he caught himself and turned away his gaze.
“I was born this way,” Piper said, like he could read their silence. “It doesn’t hurt, I’m not sick.”
“We’ll drink to your health later,” Rude said easily, tamping down an urge to apologize. “Ah - Or we would, if we had drinks.”
Piper laughed, and for the first time managed to sound incredulous. “That, too, I can supply. What did you bring, other than ration bars, expert through hikers?”
“Cigarettes,” Reno said with a sheepish grin. “Want some?”
“Now you’re talking,” Piper said, and any unease was broken. He set about starting up a fire in a compact iron woodstove.
The hut was small. There were old, ratty tapestries hung up on the stone wall that looked more intended to help with insulation than any sort of decoration. There was a little hand-cut wood table and stool, a straw mattress bed, and a shelf filled with books and a few small, carved wooden figures. Most of them animals, and a few more abstract pieces.
Reno had plopped down on a rug near the fire and was watching Piper work with interest, like a cat whose eye had been caught by movement. Hand built fires were a rarity in Midgar. Rude examined the figures on the shelf. A group in the center caught his eye, more crudely done than the rest - a small rodent flanked by two canids on either side, one more like a large wolf, the other a medium-sized dog. Behind them was a more abstract piece, perhaps unfinished - a flame, maybe, or a spell. Rude made a mental note. Their target was ‘Wererat’, but animal idols and art were common in rural areas like this, so intertwined with daily life.
“You make all of these?”
“Most of them,” Piper said without turning away from his work. “Something to do to pass the time.”
“They’re good.”
“Thanks.” He paused, turning toward Reno and holding out some wood, split into long, thin sticks with splinters fraying off that could easily catch.
“Want to feed it?”
“Huh? Uhh. Sure.” Rude watched Reno fondly as he took the fuel, carefully imitating what he had been watching Piper do.
“A little flame-shy for a through hiker,” Piper observed. There was no suspicion in his voice.
“Rude does most of the grunt work,” Reno said, flashing Piper a blushing smile that was so convincing Rude felt his heart skip a beat. “He spoils me.”
Leaning into that act, were they? It was believable enough. Reno with his pretty, pale skin and big, strong Rude, quietly and adoringly at his side. It was an easy look to commit to.
Piper’s eyes slid between the two of them, but he didn’t seem perturbed by the idea, and just turned back to watching Reno tease the fire.
“Must be nice,” he said again.
They settled into easy, comfortable chatter as Piper prepared a vegetable soup. Reno and Piper carried most of the back and forth, with Rude occasionally interjecting as he helped chop vegetables. When the soup was set to simmer, they all smoked cigarettes and Piper procured a jar of hooch from underneath a loose floorboard.
Reno took the first swig and made a whole-body grimace as the corners of his eyes watered. “Woooo!” he grinned broadly. “That’s the stuff.” He passed it to Rude who took a more measured sip, and couldn’t help but clear his throat.
“The dog before the hair,” he said, and passed it to Piper, who easily downed twice as much as Reno without batting an eye.
“I do like dogs,” Piper confessed, and all three of them laughed.
The soup was a little bland, but hot and good and filling with plenty of starchy root vegetables. Reno asked for seconds, which seemed to please Piper.
“Meals taste better with company,” He said, sounding satisfied. They sat around his little table in his little hovel, the glow of the woodstove casting a dim, soft light on them. The door was still open and the sun had sunk down below the horizon, only dim peach light receding into the dark navy of the night sky. Already, there were so many more stars out than they could ever see in Midgar.
“Soo,” Reno said lazily, interrupting the companionable silence. “We heard this rumor about some dangerous types up in the mountains here. Anything we should be worried about?”
Rude scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I told him that was just gossip. Cityfolk will kill for a good story about places they don’t understand.”
“No, it’s true.” Piper said, leaning back on his hands. “You saw our church. A long-standing sect branched off from the main congregation about fifty years ago and went up to the mountains. They believe that in death we all return to the Lifestream as a collective consciousness, and that granting death to someone is an act of virtue. It earned them a reputation as a suicide cult, so they’re shunned by the villagers.”
“Damn,” Reno said.
“It’s not really like that, though,” Piper persisted, biting his lip. His teeth, like the rest of them, were quite asymmetrical, but Rude was fond enough of him at this point that was more charming than anything else. “You know, people get old and sick, or things happen that are worse than death, and sometimes the kindest thing to do is put them out of their misery. Haven’t you ever read Big Yellow?”
Reno gave Rude an uneasy look. It was a childhood classic about a young boy’s loyal chocobo. Yellow had to be put down after rescuing his master from a fatal venomous bite that caused the victim to go berserk. Rather than waiting for it to attack everything in its path, only to suffer and die anyway, the boy used his father’s shotgun to put his friend to rest. Even mentions of it usually got Rude choked up, but the context here was enough to keep him sober.
“A mercy kill,” Rude said.
He remembered the face of a man he’d punched at just the wrong angle, when he had been younger and out for blood. It materialized in his mind’s eye as though it was happening in real time before him - the man seizing on the floor in ugly, extreme convulsions and foaming at the mouth, making a horrible, wordless noise.
He could still feel the snap of his spine beneath his shoe.
“That’s right,” Piper said, pulling Rude back to the present. “It happens a lot on farms, with the animals. Birth complications, babies missing vital organs - they’ll just die a slow, miserable death anyway. So we give them the gift of a quick end. It’s not so strange to think humans might deserve the same.”
“You sound sympathetic,” Reno offered.
“Maybe I am,” Piper said. “Maybe nothing is so black and white.”
Rude caught Reno’s eyes.
“To gray areas,” Rude murmured. The words felt thick on his tongue. He took a final drag on his cigarette, smoked down to the butt.
They retired to the hay loft. It was much colder outside. The wood stove had warmed the hut so perfectly that they hadn’t noticed, but up in the loft, the thick insulation of the hay kept the worst bite of the chill out. Rude set out their small, materia-powered lantern and they began to roll out their sleeping bags side by side. There wasn’t room for more than a half meter of space between them. Reno layed down on his side, facing Rude, watching him as he sorted through his pack, checking to make sure everything was in order. He picked out his gloves and ran his fingers over each of his materia, just to be sure.
“What do you think, partner? We need to worry about our friend?”
“Possibly,” Rude said. “Not much we can do about it now.”
“It’s bullshit, don’t you think? A ‘mercy’ kill. They sent a ton of their members to off themselves at Shinra’s doorstep. You tellin’ me they were all sick and dying? I don’t buy it.”
“Sickness isn’t the only thing that can make a person want to die.”
“Yeah, you think I don’t know that?” Reno sounded annoyed; the conversation had clearly struck a nerve. “I just mean it’s fucked up. Good intentions don’t justify that shit.”
Rude was overwhelmed with the urge to put his hand on Reno’s face, to press his thumb to his lips and soothe him, to trace the red mark on his cheekbone with his fingers, then with his lips.
“No,” Rude said evenly. “They don’t.”
He couldn’t shake a growing sense of foreboding. He tried to chalk it up to the past being drudged up by their fireside conversation, by drinking a little too much, but his head felt clear.
He laid down on his own sleeping bag and faced Reno. They were used to sleeping in close quarters, but something shifted between them as their eyes met. It would be easy to close the gap between them, to shuffle their bags closer together and let their breaths mingle. Dangerous thoughts that Rude had more and more of lately. He thought about Reno smiling in the firelight, ducking his head, saying, He spoils me. He wanted to put that expression back on his face, wanted it to shake loose the bundle of nerves that had lodged in his own chest. More dangerous was that he saw the same longing in Reno’s eyes.
“Whatever,” Reno finally said. “We’ll get this shit done and be home soon. I’ve got your back.”
“You know I have yours.”
“Yeah,” Reno said. “I know.”
That night, Rude dreamt of bringing his foot down on the neck of a dying man.