Attack Dog
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Final Fantasy VII, that's Square Enix!
There was no resentment. He'd chosen this life and the death that would come with it, Veld had made that clear. A Turk was a person second, any feelings or distaste he had for what he was ordered to do was never as important as the job.
Turks weren't people, they were weapons to be pointed at a problem that needed eliminating. Beneath the suits and the paychecks they were little more than attack dogs. If he wore his tie a little tighter some days it was only to remind himself of that; despite how long of a chain he had it always had an end. There were things he simply couldn't do and places he couldn't reach without killing himself.
She had been one of those, he reminded himself when his thoughts strayed. Turks weren't meant to love anyone, it always ended painfully. Vincent and Veld had shown him that much, and leaving to run away with her was completely out of the question. He'd simply stood on the sidelines, watching. Always watching over her, swooping down on those who'd try to harm her like a curse. She was meant for someone with bright eyes and wild hair, someone who'd laugh too loud and shower her with gifts that would mean the world. Someone who'd take her away from the gloom of the world and show her the bright sunlight and wide open skies. Someone who'd give her the freedom he never could.
There was a bag of gil under a floorboard of the church, one gil for every day since she'd died. Someone would find it eventually, enough to start a new life or blow it away. He kept the flower on his desk as a reminder of what they were working to fix, and the box of letters that had never reached their intended in a drawer as a reminder of the cost.
It was easier to be the suit and tie, the gun and pen that took lives away. The fear in people's eyes was easier to shoulder than the distrust and scorn his blood could bring, the Wutai War may have been over for years but plenty of people had had their lovers and children never come back from it. He couldn't really go back there either, despite the repaired relations. He'd worked for ShinRa during the war, and while the gods certainly wouldn't care the people would. Ensconcing himself in a temple for the end of his life was still an option he considered, but not one he'd take quite yet. He'd grown up in one so he felt it was fitting for him to return for the end. Like a good Turk he'd returned to his master's side. Like an attack dog that didn't know any other life.
Maybe Reno would be the one to put him down, or Rude.
He trusted them to make it painless.
Author's Note: This has been bouncing around in my head for a while now, and I really don't even. At all.