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The Reaper	By : crystalwind Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 676 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Warnings: There's implied noncon and incest in this one, with a minor involved (plus some language). No real "lemon" for it though... I'd rather reserve those for fun sex, and this certainly isn't...

Chapter Two – His Place

He was going to drown.
Numbed by the cold of the water, the pain in his skull, and the lack of oxygen, Jimmy couldn't struggle, could hardly even understand what was going on. His mother was drowning him in the bathtub. I'm drowning drifted slowly through his mind, followed closely by I'm dying. It felt almost like falling asleep, only more surreal. Detached. He could no longer focus on his mothers shimmering form above the water. All he saw was the water, tinged pink with his blood, as his vision darkened, and slowly faded to grey, and then black. He was slack, relaxed. It was dark now. Just like sleep. The throbbing in his head, the pain from the raw skin elsewhere on his body, had faded. It was okay, easy in fact, to let himself go. He couldn't do anything about it anyway.
He was pulled violently from the water, and the hands disappeared from his throat. Sucking in breath, sensation returned in a rush, starting with pins and needles in his extremities and blasting into a searing pain in the back of his head, his throat, behind his eyes. He still couldn't see, but his hearing returned, if it had ever disappeared at all. Everything was muted underwater anyway. Now, however, all he could hear was screaming. It took him a long moment to realize that it wasn't him screaming, that he was still as silent as he had been when his mother had rubbed his skin raw. A man was screaming, then a woman.
Dad? Mom? He assumed so. It sounded like one of their typical fights, except this time he couldn't make out the words, only noise. His vision was returning in spots, but he was still muddled, confused, and he stared blankly into the bloody water. Silence, then a crash from somewhere else in the house. Silence again. Jimmy waited, still in the bathtub, still only dimly aware of his surroundings.
A pair of hands reached in and lifted him out of the tub. Finally fully conscious and aware again, Jimmy struggled for a moment, before he realized that it was his father. He quieted down quickly, and allowed himself to be carried to his bedroom. Despite almost being drowned a few minutes ago, he still feared his father far more than his mom. He was stronger, and he didn't wait to get drunk before he got violent.
Jimmy landed with a muted thump on his bed, trying to keep himself from shivering. His dad walked out briefly and returned with a towel, which he used to begin drying Jimmy off. Jimmy immediately felt uncomfortable, and protested. "I can do it myself, you don't have to…" The immediate response was a sharp slap to the mouth, silencing him immediately.
"You'll sit there and shut the hell up if you know what's good for you. Stop shivering." Jimmy sat and endured in silence, again trying in vain to stop shivering, and doing his best to ignore the wandering hands on his body. Quiet moments with his father were never a good thing. It was okay when he was angry… Jimmy could expect to be kicked around (sometimes literally), receive a lecture on learning his place in life, and then to be left alone. When his father got quiet, however, he let his hands wander, and his eyes. Jimmy was always afraid of the look in those eyes.
He trembled now out of fear, rather than cold. The room had grown all too warm for his liking. The towel had disappeared shortly after drying his face and upper body, his groin and thighs abandoned and still dripping, and coarse fingers now traced paths along his chest, pausing to slowly circle a pair of taut nipples. Jimmy flushed in dread, and shame. On the upper plate, he imagined that kids probably didn't find out about sex until later in life; they were spoiled up there, pampered. Their parents didn't beat them, try to drown them, touch them…
Here in the slums below the plate, however, kids learned quickly. Not everybody had abusive parents, but everyone knew somebody who did. Most kids were as sexually active as any adult by the time they turned fourteen. Many were parents not long after. It made sense, really… With hardly any medical care, all of the filth that clogged the air, no natural light… lifespans were shorter below the plate. In the grand tradition of the human race, the people of the slums had simply adapted to meet that condition. They grew up fast. Jimmy knew exactly what was about to happen to him. A large hand covered his mouth, and he felt himself shoved backwards until he was lying flat on his back. "Don't scream." As always, Jimmy obeyed. It wasn't his place to disobey his father.
He cried, quietly, in pain and humiliation. He was alone now, or he wouldn't have dared even the silent tears. Dad had left the room when he finished, presumably to go take a shower, leaving Jimmy a bloody and sticky mass of pain. Things had never gone this far before, but then again, his mom had always been around before. Jimmy hadn't heard any sound of her since his head was pulled out from under the water. Had it really only been a half hour ago? Jimmy didn't bother trying to guess where she was, what had happened to her. All he knew was that he was completely alone now.
Footsteps sounded in the hall outside his door right as his quiet tears turned into hiccupping sobs. Talk about bad timing… His mind was scattered, unable to focus on anything particularly serious, as his father paused in the doorway to look at him, then walked back out. It wasn't long before he returned, stepping all the way inside the room. He had a clean towel and a knife in his hand.
Jimmy recognized that knife. It was all black, even the steel. The blade was about twelve inches long, and curved wickedly, designed for killing. He'd never been cut by that blade, but he'd been threatened with it plenty of times, and the sight of it made him immediately try to stop his crying. He knew that his father hated when he cried.
"Stop Crying." Surprise, surprise. His dad set the knife on the bedside stand, and wiped him down with the towel cleaning him off efficiently and coldly. There were no wandering hands this time. His brusque manner calmed Jimmy down more than anything else, and by the time he was cleaned, his tears had disappeared, leaving behind only the slight hitching of breaths that always appeared after a hard crying session. His earlier trembling returned full force, however, when his father picked the knife back up, ordering him to lay back down.
"I've told you before not to cry. You're obviously too damned stupid to learn the lesson, so now I'm going to make sure you learn it and never forget it . Keep your fucking mouth shut, and I'd better not see one fucking tear, or you'll regret it." In hindsight, Jimmy never could figure out what his dad could have done to make him regret crying that would be worse than what had already happened, but at the time, he was too afraid, too cowed and submissive, to question. It took all of the strength and focus he could muster not to scream when the cold steel carved into the flesh below his eye. He had to blink rapidly to keep from crying when the tip of the blade hit his cheekbone and carved deep, and it was all he could do not to pass out when the blade moved over to inflict equal pain under his other eye. James Stanton, the Third, however, always obeyed his father. Even when it hurt.
For several days, Jimmy lay in bed, shaking from pain and fever. Almost being drowned had shocked him. The rape had hurt him. The cutting was almost enough to kill him. His head throbbed constantly, dully where he had hit his head in the tub, and arcing around to culminate in a searing burn where the knife had cut into his face. Late the first night, when he was finally able to drift into an uneasy sleep, his dad came and sat on the edge of his bed, brushing his unruly hair back from his face and stroking his head soothingly until he fell asleep. The last thing Jimmy registered before his eyes closed was his father's voice, assuring him that the pain would be gone soon, and everything would be ok. He came every night after that, soothing him to sleep with a parental protectiveness that he had rarely ever displayed. During the days, he brought Jimmy warm broth to drink, and cool water, carrying him to the bathroom when he needed to relieve himself. His behavior was kind, nurturing… normal. After a couple days of it, Jimmy prayed for his fever to recede enough so that he could escape the house, before his dad drove him crazy.
Six days after the incident, he left the house, carrying an old backpack filled with a change of clothes, a bottle of water, and an apple. He had money stashed in various places on his body, and the knife rested safely in his pocket. He didn't plan on ever returning.
Tired eyes gazed down the street, lingering on the corner café. Was it really only a week ago that he had led his "gang" in a dirt war on that same street? He felt like it had been years. Children's voices sounded from down the street, and he looked up to see Toby, Myrna, and a few others from the gang round the corner and start heading his direction. He almost turned and left, but at the last minute, Toby glanced up and spotting him, stopping the group. Jimmy was supposed to meet them at the playground several days ago.
"Jimmy!" Myrna caught sight of him and started to run towards him, but Toby stopped her. Jimmy has vicious, red-looking scars on his face, and his eyes were different. Older, somehow. Sad. He wasn't returning to the group, and Toby could tell. Jimmy nodded quietly towards him, a farewell, and turned away. He was headed towards a different kind of gang now.

"That does it for today then. I want that report on my desk no later than five p.m. tonight."
"Yes, sir… Oh, sir?"
"What is it?"
"You remember that kid that everyone talks about whenever they go down into Sector 5? The one with the hair? He was in that dirt war you guys watched last week?"
"Yes?"
"Well, looks like he turned up again. Cissnei's down there, and says he headed for Sector 4. Ran into his old crowd, but they didn't talk. Some kind of scars on his face, too."
"Sector 4? I wonder… pass the word around, I'd like for everyone to keep an eye out, and inform me if he's spotted running with any of the gangs down there."
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."

He found what he was looking for a couple hours later, in a dirty side alley of Sector 4. Three teens lounged against the concrete wall of an abandoned warehouse, smoking and chatting about a fight last night. He approached, and they stopped talking to glare at him. "What the fuck do you want, kid?"
"What, you don't remember me, Mel?" Jimmy grinned crookedly, and the leader of the group, Mel, took a closer look.
"Jimmy?" Jimmy grinned. "Hey! Whoa, it's been forever since I've seen you. It's been what, five years? You were hauling your brother off to an orphanage or some shit, weren't you?" Mel laughed, remembering. "That was some of the weirdest shit I've ever seen, kid. What the fuck happened to your face?"
Jimmy shrugged. "None of your business. You remember that day then?" He referred to the incident with his brother.
Mel nodded. "Sure. Who wouldn't? That baby was damn near as big as you were. It was fuckin' hilarious to watch." That earned him a roll of the eyes.
"Whatever. You keep your promises, right Mel?"
Mel eyed him warily. "Ah, shit. You're fuckin' crazy kid. You ever wanna come join my gang, you're more than welcome. We could use crazy little bastards like you. That the promise you're talking about?" Jimmy smirked and nodded. Mel sighed. "Figures. Hope you're still crazy then. This is Sonny, and Maura," he said, indicating the boy and girl next to him. "Guys, this is… I'm not fucking calling you Jimmy, that's a kid's name." He tapped his lips with a forefinger. "Let's see. You've got that fuckin' ridiculous bright hair, all flashy and shit. You were a real cocky little bastard back then, too…" He snapped his fingers. "Reno."
Reno stared. "You're naming me after a city."
"Yep. It's the biggest little city in the world!"
"Known for gambling and hookers."
"Just think! Someday, maybe you'll actually grow up, and you can be known for your hookers!" Reno sighed again, and Mel took that as acceptance. "Great! Now that that's settled, let's get you back to the hangout, and introduce you to the rest of the gang." He chatted a bit about rules on the way. "…that way, everyone contributes, but you can still, you know, have your own shit. Makes things a hell of a lot easier. People start bitching and getting mad when you take everything they earn, see? Figure you're in it for your own profit and don't give a shit about them. Anyway, we'll have to figure out what your good at. Ever killed anyone?" Reno decided that hitting a kid in the head with a dirty diaper didn't count, and shook his head. "Ever blown anything up?" Another shake of the head. "Robbed anyone?" Negative. "Well… shit. Uh… don't worry I guess, everyone has to start somewhere, right? Maybe we'll teach you how to do it all! We'll start this week with teaching you how to pickpocket, so you can start earning money right off the bat. Sound good?" Pretty much anything sounded good after the past week at his house. Reno grinned.
"Sounds good." His smile was infectious, and Mel, Sonny, and Maura grinned back.
Pickpocketing lessons started the very next day. Reno was a natural.

A/N:
I picked the name Myrna for Reno's friend without ever reaching that part of the game in FFVII (I never got past the Chocobo/Midgar Zolom area, for one reason or another),so I didn't have any idea that Myrna was a name in the game. So, Reno's Myrna bears no relation to Barret's Myrna.
I always figured a kid like Reno, who was used to being abused and spent most of his time running around on the streets anyway, would recover from (or hide) trauma a lot better than your average kid.
I like Tseng.
Thank God, I can finally start calling him Reno, without having to remember to type Jimmy instead :P
Speaking of, there is a reason for his name change, it just comes later in the story. His brother will be explained later on too.
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The Reaper