rissicat: (Shinra)
[personal profile] rissicat
I have written a fanfic... of a fanfic. It's either glorious or embarrassing, or perhaps a bit of both. Shared with permission of the lovely Soranokumo. Thanks, lady!

Fic: O
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Summary/Pairings/Warnings: Tamer than tame... This is about acceptance and moving on.

"Sir, it's time."

The words disturbed his evening routine of sorting through reports, authorizing payments, and reviewing requests from his residents for assistance. When he despaired sometimes of the routine of it all, he'd pull up Reeve's graphs of the construction progress or look at the documents from Cosmo Canyon that showed the slow and steady decline of the monsters, as the Planet became more stable. But tonight was merely dry routine accompanied by a short glass of liquor, and the interruption spawned his usual frown of annoyance directed at Tseng. "Time?"

"She's waiting for you downstairs, sir," Tseng folded his arms neatly behind his back, and waited by the door to open it for the President. Clearly, he had no intention of budging until his boss approached.

"Ah." The single, soft word escaped Rufus's lips as he stilled for a moment, then quietly closed the files on his desk, putting them into order before he slid them to one side. Years of practice allowed his face to settle into the familiar lines of polite agreement, even as his emotions wanted to raise a rebellion.

He didn't particularly want to meet this "attractive lady from a respectable family" that had been pre-vetted for him; he was far too busy to consider dating much less actually settling down. But he was also the heir to all of Shinra, and rapidly approaching thirty-five. While still handsome and considered quite a catch within society circles; his injury from Diamond Weapon was as healed as it was ever going to get, and he had better and worse days, depending on the weather. It was expected of him to marry and produce an heir of his own to carry on the Shinra legacy. Honestly, it was more than expected - it was imperative that he do so. Too many potential enemies were close at hand, and Midgar would be irrevocably damaged by another internal power struggle, the resources that they had were still stretched too thin, even with the continued improvements. That Rufus had no personal desire to settle down was effectively rendered a moot point.

Once, a small lifetime ago, he thought he'd had a solution, a way to merge both his desire and his duty. He'd found someone to his tastes, someone that he could break and to remake to fit into his world. That way he would have had both his desire fulfilled, and an heir that he could trust to take on the guardianship of the city - an heir who would long outlast him, and who would have been diligent in his care of Midgar. But that wasn't to be, and in the end the effort he expended had threatened to warp them both out recognition. It was no wonder that Tseng had hated that period of time.

Grabbing the cane that perpetually leaned against his desk he stood up, "Let me get my jacket from the other room, and I'll be right with you." His first steps were stiff as usual, hips protesting the long day at the desk, and Rufus made a mental note to ask Tseng to give him a massage later. Going forward, it was probably smarter to do so before any sort of social engagements, so he didn't move like an old man - especially important, if Tseng expected him to start a courtship.


She watched Dark Nation nervously, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders and Reno could practically hear her telling herself that the silvered muzzle meant that the hound was old and harmless. Just as she probably told herself the same about the lean and scruffy Turk that waited with her at the entry of Rufus Shinra's quarters. It wasn't his job to entertain her, and so he didn't even trying to make polite conversation, but only watched her with a distant and bland expression. As women went, she was pretty classy-looking; Tseng knew how to find them.

The Turk leader had left them a short time ago to go fetch Rufus-sama from his office, and for the last twelve minutes they had stood there in silence while she tried not to be too fidgety, tried not to be too obviously curious about the Shinra's living quarters, too, sneaking tiny peeks around while her prettily-colored fingertips tucked imaginary stray blonde wisps back into the twist at the back of her neck.

"He's on his way," Reno updated her without warning when the ear-bud he wore gave a soft chirp, making her jump like a guilty child.

"Oh! Oh, that's good," she tried to give him a polite smile that he supposed was her way of showing that she wasn't afraid of him. It teetered and fell, and she looked at the door in desperation, her gaze falling on the collar that hung there, the black leather band freshly gleaming and polished. "Does this belong to another pet of his?"

Cool eyes swiveled to look, and for a long moment Reno considered not replying to her. She didn't have any right to Rufus'sama's past. But she was a guest, and he finally relented, "... not anymore. Now he keeps it as a reminder."

"Really? Of how much his pet meant to him?" She fished to try and extract more personal data from him about the boss. Reno couldn't blame her - Rufus was charming to people, but always a little distant, a little bit cool.

"Nah," the Turk drawled, "He has it t' remind him that sometimes th' things that you want th' most, aren't things that you should try t' keep..." With that, he made a decision and opened the door into the complex. "C'mon, let's go ahead and meet him partway. I know he's got a car waitin' for th' both of you."
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