FF7 Prompt Fill: What if Veld collapsed?
Dec. 4th, 2018 11:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladykfI gave this thought, and the one thing I can say is that they would not shove him off to the med bay. Simply because Veld would not stay there. It’s one thing if it’s his Turks around, or close friends (canon and my own headcanons agree he and Reeve get on well) but just Average Joe Medical? Huh uh, no, Boss Turk has neither time nor patience for that.
So, there’s definitely going to be some panic because this is Veld and Veld is normally the definition of “has everything under control” so him collapsing? That’s the sort of thing that probably last happened… well, some point when he signed himself out of medical early, probably. Side note, I bet there were stories about the sorts of messes he and Vincent got into back in the day, and I doubt rookie!Veld was any more agreeable.
At the same time, while this newer generation doesn’t have the years of experience Veld does, they’re Turks and lack of precedent isn’t going to stop them from figuring out what to do. Honestly, Reno and Rude probably have a whole unofficial guide to managing when something happens to Tseng, so they at least have a starting point for dealing with a high ranking, incredibly stubborn, very crafty and probably cranky person with an aversion to taking it easy.
Here’s what I think would happen…
It started simple enough, a stress headache not too terribly unusual given the workload that the President was laying on their department; between being the head of the Turks leading the Turks, and also the head of the Department of Administrative Research and therefore a board member, Veld had more than enough on his plate. And then there was AVALANCHE, and the tail end of the war as it was wrapping up, nasty business he was all too glad to leave to Deusericus and his SOLDIERs for the most part.
He almost didn’t notice the shift of pressure in his head, but he definitely noticed the scratchy irritation starting in his throat. He’d never been too prone to getting sick, but after the hours breathing in hot ash and smoke during the bombing, Veld had found that he was a little more susceptible to respiratory things. Nothing he could power through so simple as a head cold, no this sort of thing headed for his throat and even for his lungs if he wasn’t careful. Unfortunately, though, ‘careful’ was a fine line to walk - he had far too much work to do on any given day to just take off a couple days for anything short of an emergency. And really, being sick didn’t get anywhere near counting. That was just inconvenient. It would go away eventually, and he didn’t have time or patience to deal with it beyond taking something to head off the cough. His voice was a little deeper with it by the second day, but that did seem to make him getting across how very done he was with Heidegger and the army happen much faster during a meeting later so small mercies.
Third day in, and a fever joined the party. Fantastic. Nothing to do for it but go about his day. He’d caught a couple glances between the others but a quick look headed off anyone saying anything. There was just too much going on to bother with it. He was doing his level best not to snap at anyone, but that was definitely helped by people keeping their noses out of it and doing their jobs. Especially when things went pear shaped, and there wasn’t time to stop and think about how he felt, dealing with fallout from another AVALANCHE attack where damage calculations were on a constant rise and hours blurred together trying to get a handle on it. He was just going to get something from the files, moving away from the monitors, when his vision began to cut in tellingly and he grabbed at the desk hard enough that the side under his prosthetic creaked in strain. Vaguely he heard someone say his name, and then there was nothing.
Realistically, Veld wasn’t even unconscious for a full minute. But it felt so much longer, the whole office coming to a screeching halt when their Director faltered and started to fall. Rude was there first, a catch reflex started before he’d ever gotten into the Turks by far too many siblings and honed to perfection because Reno had yet to meet a surface he wouldn’t climb, looping an arm around Veld’s shoulders even as the older man started to stir again. And Reno was a breath behind, as always, spinning a chair around with a quick gesture. “Somebody get some water. Chief? Heeey, there ya go.”
“Th’ fuck, red?” Veld squinted at him, blinking blearily as he tried to bring things into focus. He cleared his throat, chest going tight against the urge to cough, and managed to speak a little more clearly. “What happened?”
“Nothin’ much.” Reno flicked his hand impatiently at Rod until he was tossed a water bottle, cracking it open and handing it over. It was audacious, sure, but until somebody could get Tseng over they were going to have to bank on Veld’s usual good grace towards him ignoring the personal-space rules they’d been adhering to. “I mean, you scared the shit outta me an’ broke a desk but shit happens.”
Veld frowned at him, giving the water bottle a dark look for good measure before taking a careful sip. His hand shook slightly, and he was all too aware that he was a lot closer to exhausted than he remembered being. Which went along with the almost-passing-out that he’d figured must have happened. The water burned at first, but after another couple swallows his throat was more grateful for it. Reno was still watching him, though, seriousness behind the lazy attitude he wore like a pokerface, and the office was far too quiet for anyone to be doing anything. “I’m about positive that I’m not actually anyone’s objective t’ be watchin’ right now.”
“You’re the one always reminding us we’re human.” And there was Tseng who he knew had not been in the room, trading a quick look with Reno and ignoring the glower Veld was treating him to with a professional ease that he would normally be quite proud of. He wondered, briefly, if Vincent had felt so conflicted when he’d finally started challenging him. “Reno?”
“Sure, Commander.” Reno mimed tipping a hat, hopping up off the desk he’d been perched on. “C’mon, partner. Let’s see about some demolition analysis we can throw back in their faces. Roddy’ll have a whole damn fleet o’ bikes ready t’ get rollin’ out on soon as we’re ready. Right, kid?”
Rod blinked a little, then hopped out of his seat. “Yeah, yeah you got it Reno. I’ll have ‘em runnin’ ready for drop offs when you say where.”
“Good kid. Maur, you wanna Slum crawl an’ get us more deets? Take a couple o’ the girls,” Reno suggested, making a vague gesture towards Shotgun and Knives. “An’ Chuckles, too. Doll up like a kid, you’re good bait.”
Nunchaku flipped him off, but didn’t argue it.
Slowly, the office started moving again. When Veld looked back to Tseng, his protege had a tiny smile curving his lips. “I swear t’ god, kid, if you ‘handle’ me right now…”
“Veld, I don’t think there’s anyone alive capable of ‘handling’ you,” Tseng said, shrugging a shoulder. “We’re doing what you trained us for - our jobs.”
“You here staring me down is not your job,” Veld said, accent fading back under control as he got feeling more stable.
“It could be, if you were medically unfit,” Tseng said, far too quiet for anyone else to hear and likely his one saving grace given the icy stare that earned him even still. “It’s late. At least humor me and sit down a while, it’s not like I’m asking you to go see a doctor.”
There was a long beat of silence as Veld debated that. Part of him wanted to get up specifically because of what was being implied, but there was sense to what Tseng was saying. And he was keeping things quiet and as private as possible, with the open office, while Reno stirred the others back to their posts. It was probably the best that he could hope for.
“I can watch the monitors from here,” Veld agreed slowly, lips quirking to a wry smile as he noticed definite relief easing the hard line Tseng’s shoulders had set into. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“I can’t imagine where I’d have gotten training to get ideas, sir,” Tseng said.
Veld chuckled, shaking his head and relaxing into his chair. “Smartass.”
“I was trained by the best.” Tseng glanced at the monitors, pointedly giving him a moment to ease the chair over to a better position without being watched in the rather awkward process. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into tea instead of coffee?”
“Don’t push your luck, kid.”
