plate_builder | [Open Post]

"To help." Just a simple response, but it sounds bored somehow, tired, and for just a moment he lets his eyes focus on nothing at all, before returning them to Reeve with a steely look. "I won't expect you to trust my word, not after everything that's happened, but my only intention at this time is to help rebuild.

"Should I decide to bring ShinRa back into the light, its goals will be different than they were. Promised Lands and Mako Energy have been nothing but a burden since they were discovered."

Somehow he doesn't believe it. But, honestly, it made sense. Who was going to trust Rufus ShinRa? How would Reeve?

"It's never been your practice to help people, Rufus, except where it served you," Reeve countered, getting to his feet. "Help. It's not going to come from you. ShinRa are full of ulterior motives. You are just like your father. Everything I did for this world was in spite of that man. In spite of you. And now you expect me to believe you want to help?"

"No. I expect you will distrust me as long as I live, and as long as you do. To do otherwise would only make you naïve and idealistic." Cold words, but his tone is chiding, not without emotion, and finally he sits up a little straighter than he had been. "You believe everything I do has ulterior motives, and maybe that's true, but if there is one here it's for my own sake. Maybe even the sake of the Turks.

"Or do you think almost dying had no effect on me?"

Almost dying changed a person, Reeve supposed that was true. But Rufus Shinra? Not likely.

"Give me any reason to believe you," Reeve counters, his voice flat. "You're the most pampered, spoiled, self important asshole I ever had the displeasure of working with. Working for. Your father didn't destroy lives nearly as quickly as you did. And I'm to believe you're helping these people and it's not for your own benefit?"

It was almost laughable. He shakes his head and stands there, arms crossed over his chest. "In my position, what would you do?"

In a way, it was amusing that Rufus took the blame for most of the problems of the world, considering he wasn't the one who did half of it. Sure, he wasn't without blood on his hands, but much of what had occurred, had taken many lives... well, if you ignored the fact he let the Mako reactors keep running, hunted for Sephiroth and the Promised Land - which did quite some bit of damage on its own - he was actually far less dangerous than his old man. At least he didn't go carpet bombing villages all the time, or dropping plates on slums; though he certainly never stopped it, either.

Not that it mattered to the current conversation one iota. He knew what Reeve was saying, could even understand his anger at a certain level, and certainly could understand his trepidation. Yes, Rufus had used him, kept track of AVALANCHE through his devices, but even if the man didn't know it, he respected him and his dedication to the people. Even Rufus, in his own way, had tried to protect Midgar when Meteor came, though his attempts were fairly useless. Even having sent the Turks to do what they could, Reeve was far more successful in protecting the citizens.

So how to convince a man who believes you to be the devil, with good reason, that you were a different man than you were before? Words from a silver-tongue would offer no soothing, even spoken in gold.

Somehow, though, he finds an answer to the question posed to him. "In such a position, I would ask you to beg forgiveness. Something I would be willing to do."

[OOC: Final Fantasy canon, which can't decide who has done what. According to data, but the Turks AND Reeve saved the Midgar citizens xD]

"Forgiveness," Reeve says, rolling the word over in his mind. In the end it actually makes him laugh. "Forgiveness isn't easily gotten, not from anyone, Rufus. Trust me, I know."

The man deflates a little at that. Even he hasn't won that yet, and people KNEW what he was doing. He too was tainted by the name of ShinRa. There was talk that he was a right hand of Rufus, that the President was alive. Or that Reeve was trying to take power. Which was great. He REALLY needed that right now.

"People don't forgive, Rufus."

For once, Rufus seems to have no rebuttal, and instead merely sighs faintly. Words are words, he knows, and mean very little coming from him. So instead of using his words, he holds his good hand out in a gesture which seems to be asking Reeve what it would take to at least earn a fraction of trust.

"Depends who you want it from," Reeve says, reading the gesture. "It's the people out there that you need to figure out. Ask them."

If he can figure out how to get people who weren't idealists like Reeve himself was, he will let Rufus know how to do it. Well, probably not.

"I don't want those people's forgiveness, Reeve." He knew the words would imply he hadn't changed much at all, but they were the truth and nothing could alter that. "Or even their trust. I haven't changed so much that the view of every Tom, Dick and Harry out there matters to me. Especially since they will never be happy, and will always find someone to blame for their unhappiness.

"Honestly, you wonder why the ShinRa name isn't all over those infusions of Gil into Edge? It's because no one, yourself included, would take money from ShinRa at this point in time even if it kept them alive. Every single one of you blames only me for what occurred. Don't you think that's rather unfair?"

"There is a lot of what happened that can be laid at your feet. The Weapons come to mind," Reeve counters. "I'm not foolish enough to fail to acknowledge what your father did. He's the one that unleashed Hojo. But you didn't make it better. I can't even say that you tried."

And Rufus wants his forgiveness? Or at least implied such. It was almost funny. Would be if it wasn't so sad.

"My mother moved to Midgar," he says after a moment. "She lived on the Sector Five plate. After the plate dropped, after your father massacred those people, she found herself raising an orphan named Denzel. His parents were killed in the drop. Never occurred to her to think about what would have happened to her if I'd agreed to that place on the Sector Seven plate that was a bit smaller. But she asked me, after the plate fell, about the people that were hurt. About how we were going to help."

Before that board meeting he had hoped maybe Rufus had gotten better as he got older. Instead... Obsessions with fairy tales and completely ignoring the pains of other people. And now here they were, his mother dead and Rufus not. How was that okay? Good people died and this asshole lived. And Rufus wanted forgiveness?

At least Reeve acknowledges that it wasn't Rufus who dropped the Sector 7 plate. A lot of people had never been able to understand that he had no input into that decision, and rather thought it to be one of his father's stupidest acts; not only because of the repercussions it was bound to bring, but precisely because it was a waste of life, all in an attempt to take out some small group of rebels who could have been hunted down in other ways.

He also understands, somewhat, Reeve's frustration over the lack of ShinRa moving in to assist the people. For a company who claimed to be making peoples lives better, they hadn't bothered to do anything for the affected Sectors, merely continued on as is. Even if he could not be blamed entirely for the first bit after the collapse, he was still not in charge then, there was the fact Rufus could have done more once his father had been slain. But he had other things on his mind then.

So it's perhaps this which causes him to take in a deep breath, letting his voice slide back to its usual calm and powerful tone, before he speaks again. "No, I didn't. I understand that."

"You didn't bring down the plate, but afterward, you decided to instead focus our time, our resources, our power into another bad idea," Reeve says, glaring at him. "You didn't have to put money toward Heidegger and Scarlet at that point. You could have brought it back. You could have helped people. But instead you left on a fool's errand and I stayed behind and got to see how people were hurt. Ruined. Broken."

And they looked at him with open hands, asking for money, asking for support, asking for something. And he couldn't do anything. His budget had been cut. All his energy had to go into maintaining what was functioning. It had hurt. And now, Edge. NOW he was putting money toward the people. And it was going in the most stupid manner possible.

"I can't forgive you, Rufus, because I can't trust you," Reeve sighs after a moment. He shakes his head and sits back down on the couch. "I've got no reason to believe you want to help people. None. I can't see the grand scheme here. I don't have a way to monitor what you're doing. All I know is that it's getting in the way of my work, and I finally have a chance to help people. Which was why I joined ShinRa. I wanted to help people."

Instead they'd just left him broken.

It might surprise Reeve when Rufus doesn't respond to his remarks. Usually, the man would latch onto the idealistic words and turn them back at a person, trying to make himself feel superior and the other inferior. Yet that isn't his goal, much as Reeve might think it would be. No, he's being honest.

One could remain a fool only so long, before they either died or changed their ways. His father had never changed, had always remained a fool of a man, but Rufus was different. He'd had time, and support. Those who had been given the worst assignments, whose hands would never be clean, had stayed beside him even when they could have left. And for every fault they had, the Turks did have compassion and loyalty.

Loyalty brought them back to him. Compassion, shown now for many years, though not in so dire of circumstances, kept him alive. Its lessons had finally been learned, even if they were not complete. Perhaps his words were wrong. Or perhaps it was just his past?

Yes. The past. Words. Words were useless here. Yet he kept trying to use them. Words were all Rufus knew, the only power he had of his own if his name was stripped away. Actions supposedly spoke louder, but what action should he take? Reeve would not trust him, would not forgive or forget all he had done, but at the minimum... At the minimum...?

Rufus scowls, a childish look of one who has been reprimanded crossing his face, before he stands, movements obviously painful to him and the steps he takes towards Reeve shuffling and without threat.

"At the minimum," Thought turned to word, Rufus manages to kneel before Reeve. "I will do as I said, and beg you to at least give me a chance."

What... Reeve watches in a combination of shock and something almost like horror as he looks at Rufus. The man is clearly more than just injured. He's...

Geostigma. Another victim. Perhaps the only one who deserved it. Still, Reeve felt bad for that alone. His own mother had died from the disease, he'd seen the suffering, and it made him feel... awkward. Like he wanted to help the man.

Then it gets worse. Rufus moves to him, and while Reeve doesn't feel remotely threatened, he's shocked to watch the man kneel.

"I..." How did you respond to this? "God, get up off of the floor. You look like you're hurting yourself. Do you have medication you're supposed to be taking?"

He should get Reno. Or Rude. The Turks should put this guy back in his chair.

Neither Reno or Rude would come in, even had Reeve called. They'd been ordered to remain outside unless absolutely needed, and even if he was in a great deal of pain, Rufus still retained enough strength - or perhaps stubbornness - that he would be fully able to get back to his chair.

Not that he wanted to at this moment, as it would defeat the point and make this all look like a stunt. Not that he didn't doubt such an idea would cross Reeve's mind, but anyone who knew Rufus one bit would quickly realize he bowed to no one, let alone a man who had been several ranks below him. And especially not for any length of time.

Seriously, was he going to just be quiet? That wasn't creepy, at all.

"Get up," Reeve says, pushing to his feet and moving to haul Rufus to his. "Geez, if your Turks were to come in I think they might just shoot me because they assumed I hurt you. Get back in your chair."

"They'd know better." He manages to laugh out, despite wincing at having to get off the floor, using Reeve momentarily for support as he struggles with balance. "They're too well trained, after all. And they know me."

He's careful, shifting aside his coat slowly to reveal he's carrying a gun, before letting it drop down again to hide the metallic weapon. "I'm not fool enough to go around without protection. I'm well aware what others think of me, Reeve.

"Besides, if I wanted you dead or hurt, I wouldn't have brought you here with me in this shape."

"I know that," Reeve sighed. He ignored the gun, he had been the first to make sure the other knew he was armed. "Have you found a physician?"

If anyone could throw the money into fighting this illness, it was this man. Not that Reeve cared if he lived. Just that he hoped other people would benefit. "Because someone should be looking after all of this."

"I've had a few look me over," Carefully, he seats himself in the chair again, letting out a relieved sigh as soon as he's settled, before continuing. "But there isn't a great deal that can be done. I'm sure you know, but this isn't an ordinary disease. It's more parasitical in nature.

"Honestly, it's a surprise I'm alive at this point in time, but I suppose I'm just too much of an asshole to die."

"Hits the old harder," Reeve says, his voice barely a whisper. His mother had died almost immediately from it. It... Hurt.

More than hurt. She didn't deserve that. But no one deserved that death exactly.

There's no response to that, if Rufus even heard it, though it is highly unlikely he didn't. Just as it's unlikely he doesn't know of Reeve's mother. After all, he still had his Turks, and they still knew exactly what they were doing. He just didn't think Reeve wanted any sympathy he might offer.

Rufus instead gives it a moment, not wanting to interrupt the other man's thoughts, and focuses on shifting himself to a far more comfortable position.

"I'll talk to the men I have, tell them to listen to your orders so far as Edge goes. You can continue to distrust me."

"Time builds trust. When people aren't screwed over," Reeve noted. He stands and looks around. "Do you have any pain medication? Looks like you need it?"

People in pain make him uncomfortable. Reeve was always a helper. At least he knows for right now that he's going to have more power to design and work this.

"I know." The tone is somehow both frustrated and relieved. Even such a small agreement is enough for now, and he cranes his head slightly to indicate a different door than the one Reeve entered. "On the dresser by the bed. There's probably a partial bottle of water there too."

This isn't something he should do, but... It won't take any time or harm for him to do this for Rufus. Reeve is back on his feet and he rushes toward the bedroom. He is through the door and scoops up the bottle and the water. Looks around to see if there was anything else that should be taken. And once he's certain there isn't, he turns around toward the door. But he pauses. Looks around and sees the construction of the room. It's all meant to allow someone with a wheelchair to get around easily.

That chair wasn't a prop.

With a sigh Reeve moves back to Rufus, handing over the water as he works to open the pill bottle himself. "How many?"

Rufus says nothing as Reeve disappears into the room, not even caring if he takes his time to search it. He'd find nothing, anyway, aside from reports put together by the Turks about the status of the planet, the towns, Geostigma. No indication of anything aside from the truth in the words being given him.

He doesn't even bother to hide himself when Reeve emerges from the room, head propped in his hand and an exhausted look on his face. This was more movement than he had been used to for a while, and so he only takes the bottle from Reeve with a nod of his head. "Just one. Although if you wish to rid me from this world, give me a few more. They're pretty powerful."

So he can't help it, that little tendency of his, the smirk that crawls to his face as he makes light of the situation; though the same can't be said for it reaching his eyes.

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... I'm going to quote "The Turks should put this guy back in his chair" randomly

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