~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Eighteen: Need

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“It's Reno, right?”

“Yup, I'm honored ya 'membered my name, yo. 'Though can't say I 'member yours.”

Zack had seen this Turk before a while back during an invasion of Genesis copies in Sector 8. They hadn't spoken much to each other, but Zack had at least managed to remember his name. Yet somehow, given this Turk's lackadaisical manner, Zack wasn't surprised that the man didn't remember his.

“It's Zack,” he said, reaching out to shake the Turk's hand.

“I ain't gonna 'member that.” He didn't take it. Instead, he reached into his pocket and grabbed a pack of cigarettes.

“It's only four letters.” Zack dropped his hand, frowning at him.

“Too long, yo,” Reno said, lighting a cigarette that hung loosely between his lips. “I'll just call ya 'Slick' instead.”

“...That's five letters,” Zack said, flatly.

“Very good, yo. Now I know that SOLDIERs are capable of countin'. Can ya do your ABC's next?” He blew smoke into Zack's face, grinning.

“I don't think I like you.”

“Well good, Turks don't like SOLDIER.”

“Since when?” Zack coughed a bit, waving his hand in front of his face. He hated cigarettes.

“Since I saw ya.”

“Don't Turks scout for SOLDIERs?”

“Don't mean we gotta like ya.”

Zack was still frowning by the time the helicopter touched down on the landing pad. The strong wind from the blades caused Reno's cigarette to extinguish, which caused a string of curse words to follow.

“I can tell this is going to be a blast,” Zack said, stepping up into the helicopter.

Reno followed, chucking his cigarette off to the side, defeated, as he entered. “So, we're after a deserter?”

“Don't the Turks read what their mission is before they dive in?” Zack sat in a seat, placing the aviation headset over his ears.

“Readin' is for chumps.” Reno flicked at the microphone, causing it to pop in Zack's hearing.

Zack winced. He was not looking forward to this mission with this person if he continued this behavior. “We're after 3rd Class Angels Mejia. He deserted a few weeks ago after...an incident...with an army cadet.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that, yo. The dude tried to fu-”

Zack shot Reno a glare, and he shut up, for a moment. “He was spotted possibly heading towards a cave near the Chocobo Farm a few days ago. We think he's trying to cross the continent through the cave towards Junon.”

“'Possibly'? So we ain't even sure if he's really headed there.”

“...Right.”

“So we're to check the marshes and stake out in the cave for this guy?”

“Right.”

Reno scoffed, leaning back. He couldn't see why the Turks had to be involved in something like this. It wasn't kidnapping, it wasn't true espionage – it was just a damn hide-and-go-seek game with a lowly grunt. “This is fuckin' bogus, yo.”

“Well, maybe for you, but I have a score to settle with this guy.”

“Oh?”

Zack nodded, looking out a small window as they began to fly past the wastelands around Midgar. He could see a truck below, trudging towards the direction of Kalm, kicking up little puffs of dirt beneath its tires. It only had a few hours drive ahead of it, but those few hours were going to be hell for a certain blond passenger. Zack smiled softly.

Reno was waiting for the SOLDIER to continue, but just shrugged to himself when he never answered. “Whatever, yo. Like I even care.”

~*~*~
Kumpf had been heckling Cloud for a good twenty minutes about his motion sickness, inquiring about every little detail. He didn't understand how he could possibly get sick over something such as the simple rocking of a moving vehicle. He eventually let up on his insipid questioning when Kunsel finally ordered him to shut his 'yap'. Kunsel had refrained from adding 'fat' in that sentence, but not that he wasn't allowed to speak like that with these men, he just didn't have the heart to be that cruel.

Unlike Mejia.

“Don't worry, Cloud. We'll be there soon, yeah.” Ratcliff offered Cloud his canteen of water, but he shook his head, which was pressed against the side of the trailer, and mumbled a rather pitiful sounding 'no'. He was okay for the first ten minutes of the trip, but progressively became troubled by each bump or sway of the rickety trailer. With a company as rich as Shin-Ra, it was a wonder that they didn't invest in nicer vehicles for their army.

But now it was towards the end of their long trip, and despite Cloud's sickly moaning, he was quite happy to hear when the driver called back to them that he could see the town in the distance.

Soon the truck pulled up, and the men jumped out and stretched, then swung their assault rifles over one shoulder and teargas guns over the other. They had been ordered to only use their rifles in extreme situations, as Shin-Ra was all about image. Scaring the citizens meant scaring them from trading the mythril they mined, which Shin-Ra used for weaponry, of course.

They stood, taking in the old structure of the buildings and the quaint cobblestone ground. The citizens had begun to set up the booths which lined the entrance to the center of the town. They decorated the booths with practiced ease, and each person who worked diligently seemed to know exactly what they were to do. The men watched for a few moments, observing how each citizen worked like clockwork to set up their annual festival.

“Talk about teamwork,” Haskin muttered, enamored with the precise execution of each person. It was almost...robotic.

Kunsel laughed, shutting the back of the trailer on the truck before the driver nodded, and started the vehicle. “Let's only hope we can perform like these people.”

“Yes, sir,” they all chimed.

“Alright! See you tomorrow at noon.” Kunsel pounded on the back of the truck before it drove off. “Let's check in at the Inn, and get to work.”

They had to wrangle Kumpf back into the group as they walked, as he was easily distracted by the food booths being built, but soon they made it to the Inn and up to the two rooms Shin-Ra reserved for them, and Cloud and Ratcliff entered one. Ratcliff whistled to himself, checking out the décor in the room.

“Lavish, yeah?”

“Ratcliff, it's just a room,” Cloud said, dropping his seabag onto the bed next to the window.

“I know, I was being sarcastic.”

Cloud didn't reply. Things still felt a bit awkward between them, and he still didn't know how to quite get the man to answer. He had asked again about Graves before they left, but Ratcliff just shook his head, never meeting Cloud's gaze with his own.

Thankfully, Kunsel entered to somewhat break the tension that began to mount, and he let out a rather large sigh before tossing himself down onto the middle bed.

“So, 'let's check in at the Inn, and get to work' means lounging around, sir?”

“Yep.” Kunsel folded his arms underneath his head, and kicked a leg up onto a bent knee. “No sense in going out there when they're still setting up. I can't see fights breaking out over which colored balloon to use on the candy booth.”

“I suppose not.” Ratcliff joined on his own bed, stretching out. “C'mon Cloud, relax for a while, yeah?” He watched as Cloud turned from looking out the window, and shook his head.

“No, I'm okay.”

“He's thinking about his girlfriend right now,” Kunsel said, snorting a laugh when Cloud's face turned a bit red.

“I told you, I don't have a girlfriend.”

Ratcliff snickered.

“C'mon now, Cloud, don't lie to us. Is she hot?”

“Of course she'd be hot. Tens only go out with other tens, right?” Ratcliff laughed loudly when he heard Cloud growl. The bastard was poking fun at both him and Zack, and was obviously enjoying it.

“Makes sense to me. Although Cloud, you're not so much a ten. I'd say an eight point five on the hotness scale.”

“I can't believe you idiots are having this conversation.” Cloud hid his embarrassment behind his hands.

“Hey, 'idiots'?” Kunsel sat up a bit, raising an eyebrow. “'Kay, fine. You're a ten, then, you big baby.

“S-sorry, sir.”

Kunsel fell back onto the bed, sighing once more. “Damn, Cloud. It's okay, I was just giving you a hard time. Loosen up.”

“Sorry, sir. I'll try.” Cloud turned his head back to the window, smiling rather widely to himself, as the memory of spontaneously pleasuring Zack the night before played into his mind. He really was trying.

Ratcliff looked at Cloud with an amused face, as he could see his smiling reflection in the glass.

~*~*~
The sky began to darken, splashed with rich hues of pink and orange as the sun slowly set. Stars started to emerge on the horizon, bringing forth the anticipated nightfall that the citizens of Kalm were awaiting on. They enjoyed the ambience that their festivals brought as they lit up the sky artificially, as if they could play some sort of god and overpower the night.

The cool air was warmed with the sensation of mirth and the sounds of children laughing. They danced around their fathers, brothers and neighbors who had made it home safely from the mythril cave, bringing back the promise of stability and happiness. It was a hard time for everyone, and being apart from loved ones for so long became taxing on the families that were left behind. To be able to hold their loves in their arms again meant the future, and meant more time to be spent enjoying it together.

There had been rumors of a large serpent-like creature – dubbed the Midgar Zolom – emerging from the marshes, which originally was speculated as a myth to keep the young children from following their loved ones into the cave. Men would return home soaked in exhaustion from their journeys, and they would retell the tale as if fact. The townsfolk dismissed their tales, blaming ailment or delirium, but soon more sightings of the beast began stirring up, and from more credible sources. So for the men to return home safely, meant cause for celebration.

And the celebration looked quite enjoyable. Cloud watched as children ran past him, giggling with arms full of goodies, and bellies full of good food. The parents would walk past, arm in arm, chuckling between themselves, and just appreciating each other's company.

Cloud was reminded of a simpler time, when his father was still alive. Things were easy on his family back then, or at least that he remembered. He was a bit young when his father was around, so every memory he had was a happy one. He realized that being a child meant pure innocence, and a naïveté that was overlooked and accepted. He was never really spoiled by his parents, despite being an only child. He was given what he needed to be a content child. Food was never scarce, a warm home was constant, and love was never-ending.

And even when his father died, that never changed.

“How ya doin' over there, Strife?”

Cloud jumped when he heard someone's voice in his ear, and he had nearly forgotten he was wearing a radio headset. It was hard to hear at times when one of his teammates was speaking, as it picked up a bit of the surrounding noises. The festival was quite noisy as the night went on and the people became more drunk.

“Situation is normal, sir.”

Kunsel laughed. “I can see that. I was asking how you were doing.”

Cloud looked into the crowd and could see Kunsel standing near a booth, waving at him.

“You looked a bit down,” Kunsel said.

“Doesn't he always?” Kumpf came on the radio, and it sounded like he had a mouthful of food.

“Sorry, sir. I was just thinking,” Cloud said, stiffening a bit as Kunsel watched him. He hadn't realized that he’d started to become lax as the night went on, and as his mind went on its usual musing journey.

“Doesn't he always?” That was Zabalza now. His voice seemed a bit slurred. He had probably slammed back a few beers on duty, which was really no surprise.

“You two better be vigilant. It is a party, but you're not invited. You're here to work, so do it.”

“Aw jeez, is that Haskin?” Kumpf scoffed, and it sounded like he stuffed something into his mouth. “I know we call you 'Boss' and all, but it doesn't mean you're in charge of my ass.”

“You'd have to pay Haskin double to be in charge of your big ass, Comfy.” Zabalza laughed a bit loudly in the radio, and it caused everyone else to wince.

“Fuck off, Zabalza,” Kumpf said, albeit laughing. He could take insults towards his size with grace. He almost seemed to enjoy it, in a twisted sort of way. Or perhaps he had just learned to accept himself, and didn't let things bother him.

“Alright, who's gonna win me over to let them go on a break this time?” Kunsel said, and Cloud could see he was eyeing a couple that was arguing a bit over something at a booth. Although his voice remained upbeat, his body language suddenly became tense as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

Cloud tensed as well, his hand smoothing over the butt of the teargas gun, preparing for what could possibly come. But the couple just argued a bit more, before embracing each other in a drunken hug, and walked off as if nothing had happened. Everyone returned to normal around them, as did Kunsel.

“I'm starving over here, sir,” Kumpf said, despite the obvious chewing over the radio.

“I'm thirsty over here, sir,” Zabalza said, despite the obvious drunken slurring.

“I'm okay, sir,” Haskin said.

“Well, seeing as Kumpf and Zabalza are already on break, I'll let either Ratcliff or Cloud go.”

Cloud shook his head at Kunsel, despite the growling in his stomach. He was hungry, but he wanted to wait a bit longer until the crowd thinned out a bit by the booth he was eyeing. Wutaian barbeque – it reminded him of Zack. The smell of the smoke floated over to him, and in a strange sort of way it almost aroused him with the association of it, and the activity he shared with Zack on that night.

“Okay Ratty, you're up.”

“Yes, sir,” Ratcliff finally said. He had been rather quiet the entire time so far.

Kumpf started to laugh. “No running off with Cloud and making out with him on your break, Ratty.”

Cloud blinked.

“Kumpf!” Kunsel said, and Cloud could hear it in stereo as his voice boomed through the earpiece, and traveled from his location over to him. A few people around stopped and stared at the SOLDIER rather fearfully. “No breaks for you, now!”

“Do I sense jealousy, Comfy?” Ratcliff said jokingly, although a somewhat nervous or embarrassed tone came through his bantering words.

“Oh honey, you couldn't handle this bitch,” Kumpf said, attempting his best feminine voice.

“You're right, I don't think I'd be able to find your dick in all that fat, even if I tried,” Ratcliff said.

Everyone, even Haskin, started to laugh a bit raucously.

Cloud's laughter died slowly as Kumpf's words registered in his mind. It was a joke, he knew, but all jokes had some form of truth to them, or behind them.

~*~*~
“Ya know, Slick, Cissnei has the hots for ya. Gonna fuck her?” Reno said, despite Zack's lack of attention to the conversation Reno was trying to hold with him. Zack could tell that the man was dying for a cigarette during the long helicopter flight, and it seemed that his only way of taking his mind off this urge was to annoy Zack.

“Don't plan on it, and stop calling me Slick.”

“What're ya, gay or somethin'?”

“Sorry, the headphones seem to be getting some interference. Can't hear ya,” Zack said, staring out the window still. The gray clouds were low in the sky, and softly flowed past the craft. He was beginning to feel a bit closed in, and staring out the window into the landscape below helped at first, but soon ceased to work. Perhaps he was just anxious about slicing Mejia's limbs off one by one.

“Whatever Slick, that's cool with me, man. Don't gotta get all anal on me, yo.”

“I'm not interested in her. She's not my type of girl, anyway. I like mine to be elegant and...angelic...” Zack trailed off, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling at that word.

“Ah, that stupid grin. Ya either got laid, or you're in love. Either way I think my stomach is turning, yo.”

Zack's smile faded quickly. “Did I do something to offend you or something?”

“Nah man, it's cool. I was just gettin' a feel for ya, that's all. Most SOLDIERs are dicks, but you're not like the rest of 'em. I like ya Slick, don't worry, yo.”

“Serious? Well, I still don't think I like you.”

“Whatever ya say, Zack.”

Zack looked back to Reno, who was grinning at him, and he slowly grinned back.

The helicopter finally descended to the land below, and the two men jumped out quickly before it began to rise once more. The wind from the blades caused a ripple through the water in the marsh, and the tall grass that grew from beneath the surface bowed down by the gusts.

After the helicopter left, the two began to trudge silently through the shallow waters. It was cold, and Reno hissed in complaint every once in a while, especially when they would wade through a deeper part of the marsh and the water crawled up past their waists. Reno had muttered something about being thankful that his cigarettes were in his breast pocket of his jacket.

The searching began to get boring for the both of them, although their vigilance for any signs of disturbance in the wildlife, or breakage in the reeds and cattails around them never faltered. Their trained eyes surveyed their surroundings, taking in each slight movement in the water, or the swaying of the tall grass, despite their quiet bantering between them.

They approached a large hammock of trees nestled nearby with branches that intertwined within another. Zack motioned over to the trees, and Reno nodded. They moved as silently as they could, causing only a gentle sound of lapping water against their legs. The sound was soon drowned out by a breeze that began from the collecting rainclouds from above. The men looked to the gray sky as raindrops began to patter against their cool skin, and soon the rain beat against the surface of the marsh. This masked the sound of their movements, but significantly worked against them as well. They were no longer able to hear any slight noise that might come from their surroundings, alerting them of any possible life form nearby. If Mejia had picked up on the sound of the helicopter a few miles back, it was likely that he could be hiding out in this cove of trees, waiting for whatever may pass.

Acoustic location of a helicopter or aircraft was basic training taught even to the Shin-Ra infantrymen. For the beating of a helicopter to be heard coming towards an individual's location, only to have it disappear back the way it came meant that the enemy was depositing its troops to follow.

It was a risk they were willing to take. Judging by Mejia's last known location spotted in the plains near Kalm a few days prior, and judging that he was seen on foot, they calculated that if he were to traverse through the cave as speculated, he should be arriving at the marsh by day's end. There was the possibility that he hitched a ride from a traveler by vehicle, or used a chocobo, and that would have significantly reduced traveling time from Kalm to the marshes. They were to check the marshes, and move onto the mythril cave next.

Shin-Ra put the base at Junon on alert for the AWOL SOLDIER, and deployed reinforcements on the other side of the cave, if Zack and Reno were to flush him out. If no signs of Mejia arose by the end of the second day, Shin-Ra was going to mobilize more search units around the surrounding area.

Zack wanted to be the one to catch him, however.

They moved into the trees cautiously, and the scent of the marsh gas hit them as it was held in by the canopy of trees above them.

“Fuck, that's rank!” Reno whispered, covering his nose with his hand.

Zack frowned at the smell, partially because it was quite bad, but it greatly muddled his sharp senses. If there was someone nearby, he'd be able to pick out their scent better than Reno would have, even if it was only a little. But now the smell of the gas was masking any possibility of doing so.

They leaned against some trees, resting for a moment as they had been walking for quite some time, and particularly Reno looked as if he needed a bit of a breather. Zack closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating his hearing through the pattering of the rain hitting the leaves above, and the sound of it hissing against the surface of the water around them. He could hear birds chirping above as they ruffled their feathers in the falling rain. Their little noises made him think of a chocobo, which then made him think of Cloud.

Zack smiled to himself, unaware of Reno's quizzical look towards him as he watched him from the other tree.

This SOLDIER sure was a strange one.

And then Zack suddenly stiffened, sucking in a quick breath through his nose as he turned to peer around the trunk of the tree. His eyes were darting rapidly ahead.

Reno went to open his mouth to say something, but Zack held out his hand to stop him. Reno turned, straining his hearing and his sight for anything that might have caused the SOLDIER to react, but he only saw more trees, and the glowing will o' wisps floating lazily between.

“There's nothing there, yo,” Reno finally whispered, despite the quiet warning from Zack not to speak.

Zack just ignored him and began to make his way from trunk to trunk, peering around each one to a circular clearing between the trees ahead. As he moved, his hand went up to remove his sword from the sheath on his back.

Reno followed behind, smirking at the SOLDIER. He thought that the man might have been overreacting just a bit, but regardless, Reno still removed a handgun from his breast pocket. Using his EMR would just be suicide in the water, and even as reckless as he was, he wasn't that stupid.

They entered the clearing of trees, and Zack was struggling with focusing his eyes ahead of him as the will o' wisps darted between the trees, causing his eyes to be misled, as if it were the source of the noise he heard. He cursed under his breath as he paused for a moment, waiting. He felt Reno stand beside him as he closed his eyes, straining his hearing once more.

The birds above suddenly became frightened, and they took to the skies in a frenzied mob. Their echoing cries drowned out the sound of the rain.

A dark figure emerged before them, and weapons were quickly drawn.

“'Bout time we saw some action, yo,” Reno said, cocking his gun as the figure suddenly lunged at them.

~*~*~
As the night went on, more and more citizens joined the lively festival to partake in the fun - and alcohol, of course.

And as dedicated to the job that Ratcliff was, he still snuck in a drink on his break. He sat on a bench casually, a beer in one hand and a roasted corncob in the other. Walking back and forth on patrol through the main setup of booths was tiring. Moving through a sea of restless children, drunken adults, and the people manning the booths shouting that their pretzels were softer than those from across the way, took a toll on the usually docile man. Large crowds made him nervous, and frankly it filed down his patience quickly. He always hated patrolling large functions such as this, or rowdy crowds.

There was a riot once outside of the Shin-Ra building, when the company decided to hike the mako taxes on the citizens of Midgar, and soon a swarm of angry people assembled outside the property. A few units were deployed to try and contain the riot, and Ratcliff had unfortunately been one of the men to respond. Pushing back the crowd with the barricades didn't successfully block him from every person, and soon he was being grabbed and prodded, and pulled into the crowd. His barricade was somehow torn from his hands, and if it hadn't been for Graves who had easily pulled Ratcliff from the mob, he might have been trampled over. Since then, he grew anxious around large groups of people that had the potential to form into threat.

He picked at his corncob, plucking off the burnt kernels dejectedly. His mind traveled to Graves then, recalling how the man had saved him from being ripped apart by the citizens. He had hoisted him up rather roughly, and at first Ratcliff mistook him for part of the mob, but once Graves had wrapped his large arms around him and shielded him from prying hands, he realized Graves had been the one that saved him.

Ratcliff was weak – always finding himself in some sort of bind. He had been much smaller when he first enlisted in the army and, like Cloud, had been picked on for his thinner frame. He had tried to bulk his muscles up, but doing so was proving to be a very daunting task. His body just seemed to refuse packing on any sort of prominent muscle, despite all of the protein shakes he managed to stomach.

He had met Graves in the gym. The man spent most of his time that wasn't being used for the army or getting himself incredibly drunk in there using the free weights and the machines like they were some strange extension of his body. Ratcliff was new to the concept of working out, and he had nervously asked him for help on how to operate a certain machine. Graves just lifted an eyebrow as if he were speaking to him in another language, scoffed, told him to get lost, and then walked away. That was his first impression of the man.

Ratcliff was assigned to Kunsel's unit, and he joined with knees that were banging together and teeth that were chattering from anxiety. He was surrounded by gruff, inconsiderate men, and he then wondered why he bothered to join the Shin-Ra army to begin with. His reasons were unlike most of the men that joined, who were striving to become like Sephiroth. He hoped to come out a better man in all ways. No longer shy, no longer timid in everything that he did. He was scared to ask for help from people, but he couldn't stand to do things on his own. It was ironic that the first person he asked help from told him off. He kept to himself for quite some time afterward.

A few weeks passed by, and Elici had begun to talk to him a little, more pushing food on him in the cafeteria than anything else by that point. He said Ratcliff was too skinny, and that he needed to fatten up or he'd be eaten alive by some of the men in their unit. Ratcliff usually just smiled at him weakly, and did as told, but never really said much to him, despite sharing a bunk nearby, and being paired with him in training courses. He had noticed that Elici and Graves interacted with each other in friendly banter, but some of it was spats.

If Ratcliff didn't know any better, he could almost see them as quarreling lovers at times. But, Elici was married, and Graves had an unnecessary abundance of dirty magazines with women stockpiled wherever his cigarettes and flasks didn't take up space. He never understood why they even bothered to interact with each other at times, as they just came across as having nothing in common other than an interest to bicker about every little thing that bothered them about each other. Graves was obviously a bit loose, while Elici ran a tighter ship than some of the SOLDIERs that were in charge. Perhaps they just couldn't understand the other's ways of living, and yet were intrigued by the way they somehow did it.

There was a point that the two started to get heated with each other during some liberty in the barracks. They had been trying to decide on a place to go and get drunk in town, and neither could agree on a bar. Something so simple and seemingly harmless, and yet it managed to turn into a full blown argument that involved some fairly heady insults, and wrinkling of each other's clothing in their hands. Ratcliff recalled the other men in the barracks backing away, and going about their business like this was a usual thing – which of course it was – but Ratcliff could never get used to that sort of thing. Even though he and Graves had only interacted that one time, he was still part of his unit and felt at least some sort of connection to him, despite no connection being returned back.

“Isn't anyone going to stop this?” was Ratcliff's simple question to the rest of the men around, who only just shrugged, scoffed, or outright ignored him. It was the first real thing he had said to anyone since he had joined the Shin-Ra army, and the one time he said something, it fell on deaf ears. Regardless, it was a personal best for him by that point and somehow it felt good, and made his next decision a bit easier.

The two began to get physical, and he hurled himself into the fight to stop them.

At the time, it seemed like a good idea, but when he came out of the fight more bruised and bloodied than either Elici or Graves, he instantly regretted it. But, the sympathetic and guilty looks on both their faces almost made needing eleven stitches in the forehead and chin almost worth it.

But then, when Graves told him that if he ever interfered again, he'd wear Ratcliff's skin as new designer sneakers with matching belt and wallet, he knew it hadn't been worth it. So a few months went by and he did his best to avoid the man, and he never spoke unless absolutely necessary. He assumed that Graves felt a bit bad about telling him off like that, and it seemed that the man tried a few failed attempts to be...nice to Ratcliff. But his idea of being nice was a slew of pestering, and teasing him about his 'lack of balls', as he would put it. After a while, it seemed like he almost became enamored by how such a scrawny little wimp like 'Ratty' could survive in such a place. Eventually, though, he lost interest and went back to taking his wayward energy out on Elici.

After some rigorous training and discipline, Ratcliff began to emerge from his shell, if only a little. He would talk to others around him, and generally got a good vibe off of most of the other men around. He was a shy person, but he forced himself to get comfortable with people. At first the others thought he was a different person, and could hardly believe that it was the same man who was scared to even fire off an assault rifle when he first joined.

He had charm, and he had wit, although at times it was forced to either fit in or defend himself from confrontation from others, but he masked it fairly well, and by that point only Elici could tell he was still a bit uncomfortable with himself. They had become closer, especially when Elici helped him out a few times in the battlefield, and not to mention all of the fatherly vegetable pushing on him helped with their bond, as well. Ratcliff didn't grow up with a father, so Elici was almost like the next best thing, despite the two being the same age. And perhaps Ratcliff had developed a bit of a thing for the man, but never acted on it. Elici was married, and that was the end of that.

And it had seemed that Ratcliff himself was a target for a certain 3rd Class SOLDIER's attention. Mejia had a little thing for Ratcliff, and he had boldly approached him about it one day. Mejia wasn't a bad looking fellow; in fact, his sharp features were hard to look away from. He had a persuasive gaze in his eyes that was hard to say no to, especially when cornered against a wall and being smiled at with an enticing smile. Back then, Mejia wasn't such a bad fellow. He was a little rough with some of the men, and was quite vulgar, but wasn't like how he was now. In fact, he was charming enough to win Ratcliff over, and soon they secretly started seeing each other during their liberty.

It didn't take much for Ratcliff to give in to his carnal needs, as his shy nature melted away when it came down to his more natural urges. It was his chance to break loose and feel like someone else for a change, and Mejia's aggressive behavior in and out of the bed seemed to bring that out. He would now hate to admit it, but Mejia helped him out of the rest of that shell he hid behind as their relationship evolved rather quickly.

Ratcliff wasn't looking for love, and neither was Mejia. It was more of a mutual companionship – someone to help them both feel like they were needed. Mejia never really made love to him, it was more like fucking than anything else, but the way that Mejia had clung onto him and growled his name during had connected with Ratcliff on a deeper level than an 'I love you' ever would.

Ratcliff was surprisingly kinky when he was comfortable enough with himself, and of course this brought out a feral side in Mejia. Bed-names turned to vulgar insults, nipping turned to biting, spanking turned to slapping, feeling needed turned to feeling used. Arguments between them would lead to angry sex, and that left physical marks all over Ratcliff's body. Elici had noticed a few bruises on him, but Ratcliff just said he got a little zealous in training. Elici never had believed him for one moment.

Ratcliff and Mejia had gotten into an argument outside a bar when Mejia got too drunk and was trying to force Ratcliff into oral sex in the men's bathroom. He probably would have done it if it had been a single bathroom, and not one filled with other stalls and other bar patrons. Ratcliff was a bit daring, but not that daring. Mejia became belligerent, and dragged Ratcliff into an alleyway. Of course, by then, Ratcliff was no pushover, and he verbally stood his ground with his decision, even as Mejia slammed him up against the wall of the bar roughly. Mejia began tearing at Ratcliff's clothes, calling him every derogatory name under the sun, threatening to rape him right there on the spot. Ratcliff told him to fuck off, which enraged him more than he would have thought. And soon he found his head connecting to the wall, followed by a stream of blood running down his face as more of his clothes were being clawed at frantically.

He could hear someone shouting at the end of the alleyway. It was a familiar voice, but somehow he couldn't quite place it. It was unique; it was loud and forceful. There was a scuffling beside him as he sank down, holding his throbbing head with one hand, and covering himself with the other. He could hear Mejia slurring and shouting, until the sound of him letting out a pained grunt followed. Ratcliff felt himself being hoisted up by large arms, and he could hear that voice now speaking in a soft tone – it was almost caring.

It really was always Graves who had saved him.

Graves took him to a hotel for him to rest for the night. He helped him to a bed, and tended to the wound on his scalp before beginning to leave. But he looked back at Ratcliff, who was curled into himself, burying his head in his knees, and he just couldn't find himself to leave. He grunted to himself, calling Ratcliff a pain in the ass, but then sat down on the edge of the bed with him. They talked long into the night, as Ratcliff had no one else to turn to, so Graves sat and listened to the man's troubles. Graves wasn't much support on the matter, but he listened and occasionally put in his two cents as best he could. But, despite all of this, Graves told him he would take care of him. It was as simple as that, and then he left. That was his real first impression of the man.

Afterward, Ratcliff parted from his strange relationship with Mejia, despite Mejia's begging for him to stay with him. It was the first and last time that Ratcliff had ever seen the man look slightly remorseful. But it wasn't enough for Ratcliff, and then the man's true nature began to show. He began to berate the men more in their unit, and even started to become more confrontational. Then there was rumor that Mejia had tried to pursue Zack Fair, but was turned down. Of course, rumors were rumors, but somehow after that rumor began floating around, the man's behavior became haywire.

Mejia would take whatever deep seeded rage out on Ratcliff most of the time during training, and it was to be expected. Of course, the only people who were aware of the real reasons why were Ratcliff and Graves, and Mejia himself.

But then Cloud came along, and suddenly Mejia's focus on Ratcliff disappeared. At first, Ratcliff was relieved, but when he saw that look – that feral look – in Mejia's eyes when he looked at Cloud, he had to keep him away from the young boy. Cloud was naïve, and he was weak. Ratcliff didn't want to see Cloud go down the same road that he had with his life in the army, and with someone like Mejia. Graves must have seen this too, as his eyes were trained closely on both Mejia and Cloud constantly.

As he formed a friendship with the young boy – as they all did – he realized that he and Cloud were a lot alike. He needed to protect Cloud. He couldn't be the one that needed the protecting any longer. He was tired of being indecisive, he was tired of being manipulated by his own fleeting confidence – he was tired of himself. He needed to be of use to someone, if he couldn't be for himself.

And the night that Mejia had attacked Cloud, he hated himself for not getting there in time. He was drifting in and out of sleep, every once in a while poking his head down from his bunk to check to see if the boy was there. He began to grow worried – almost like a parent – but sleep got the better of him. It was the actual thump of Cloud's head against the wall that had woken him up. He paused for a moment, trying to bring himself out of his drowsiness, and he could hear muffled whimpers and what sounded like his old lover's voice. He recognized that tone – that sick, sexual tone that he would get when things became a bit scary and raunchy. He glanced down again to Cloud's bunk, and immediately smacked Graves with his pillow and woke him. They both dropped down, and as if Elici somehow sensed the aura in the air, he was getting up himself. By the time they had exited the barracks, Sephiroth already had pinned the man against the wall with his fearsome strength. Ratcliff immediately ran to Cloud, Elici was back in the barracks waking Kunsel, and Graves was trying to get a piece of Mejia while Sephiroth held him down.

“Graves, what about Cloud!?” Ratcliff had said, but Graves simply ignored him. He knew Ratcliff could take care of him.

But now, raw fingers were mindlessly plucking the kernels on the cold corncob, and Ratcliff looked below to the ground where the majority of his snack lay in tiny squished pieces between his feet. His cob was empty now, and he sighed, chucking it into a nearby garbage can. He swigged the rest of his beer, and threw that in there as well before looking around for something else to kill the few minutes he had left on his break.

And he had heard it. It was that familiar voice that he now could place quite easily. It was unique; it was still loud and still forceful.

There, standing by a booth, Ratcliff saw him.

“Graves!”

~*~*~
… To be continued in Chapter Nineteen: Motive of a Child.