Reno peeled his eyelids open and stared blankly at the ceiling. It'd been three days since he'd discharged himself, and five since Tseng had made him an offer he couldn't refuse. Those five days had passed in a blur, where he'd eaten little and drank plenty. His shoulder ached, his head was splitting in two and the bile in his throat was a constant reminder of how shit everything was, but he carried on regardless, seeking out the comfort in the bottom of any bottle he could find.
The liquor dulled the memories but did nothing to stem the guilt.
He wasn't sure he'd ever spent this much time in his apartment, resisting the call of the seedier side of Edge for a reason he couldn't quite grasp. A sinking feeling told him it centred round warm eyes and dark hair, full lips and soft skin… But he refused to acknowledge it, fighting the spiralling snatches of something that interspersed the nightmares.
They haunted him every night now, almost as soon as he closed his eyes, a twisted picture reel of his blackest moments running on repeat through the darkness in his head. The couple of fingers he'd necked from the bottle to chase the dreams away had rapidly turned into half a bottle or more; he may as well have been brushing his teeth with whiskey and pouring vodka on his breakfast cereal.
When Tseng had suggested R&R, this probably wasn't what he'd had in mind.
A detached part of himself viewed the scene from above, a masochistic voice that gleefully insisted this wasn't a state he could survive for long. But he drank anyway, drowning it in spirits and tossing lit matches into the void. None of them caught, the alcohol doing little to take the edge off the continuous noise in his head.
Tseng was wrong, he thought bitterly, dragging himself off his sofa. They needed him, just as much as he needed them. So he pulled on his creased suit and finished off the bottle he'd fallen asleep next to, barely tasting the kick of the cheap spirit and pointedly refusing to meet the gaze of his hollow-eyed reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Some things were better avoided.
Reno hailed a cab to the office, finally paying attention to a little of his self-preservation instinct. His hands were too shaky to consider driving, the daylight overly bright to his shadowed eyes. He watched the streets of Edge pass by in a blur, ignoring the idle chit-chat of the driver and the lead-weight in his stomach as he passed by pavements that were a little too familiar for comfort.
Seventh Heaven lay around these streets, and he knew a dozen different routes and shortcuts that would lead him to her door.
He wondered whether his lack of a presence had struck a chord. He doubted it. There'd been a couple of moments of weakness, where he hadn't quite been able to scratch the itch himself and he'd considered reaching out but thought better of it. His memories brought with them an empty feeling, and the craving for familiarity jarred him; he wasn't usually one to seek comfort from the same arms twice. There were more prudent ways of dealing with the boredom that was giving his mind too much opportunity to wander. Besides, she didn't need his sorry ass in her life any more than he needed the complication in his, and once he'd gotten out of this funk he'd fallen into he'd be right as rain.
He didn't need the complication, no, but it didn't stop him wanting it.
The cab pulled up outside HQ and Reno tossed the driver whatever gil he had left in his wallet. Nobody batted an eyelid when he wandered through the doors and to the lift, swiping his dog-eared I.D card to gain entry. The setting felt strange now when he thought back to the last time he'd been truly present here before their unscheduled trip to Healen Lodge had pulled the rug out from under him. It was only as he moved further through the building and narrow corridors bought him into closer contact with other employees that the odd looks started. But he barely registered them as he staggered through the halls, wondering instead whether the hip-flask he'd hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk had anything left inside.
He'd never know the answer; the sound of his name stopped him dead in his tracks.
"What're you doing here?" Elena sounded worried. "Tseng said…"
She trailed off as she approached him, arms folded across her chest, her crisp suit and tie a stark contrast to Reno's dishevelled clothing. Her smart appearance riled him; his irritation provoked further by the way her dark eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Have you been drinking?"
"Nope."
"Liar." Her frown deepened. "I can smell it from here."
"That's your problem," he muttered, continuing towards his office.
She followed, her spotlessly shined shoes ringing out on the linoleum. Reno could feel his patience fraying with every sharp clack of her heels.
"What's up?"
"What's with all the fucking questions?" he snapped.
"Tseng told me…"
He spun on his heel, glaring at her. "Tseng told you what exactly?"
She baulked, her step faltering. A tiny flicker of guilt sparked in the pit of his stomach. "He said you were taking some R&R. That you needed a break."
"Yeah? Well, I don't."
"Aren't you still recovering?" she asked pointedly, the colour rising in her cheeks.
A twitch to her lip betrayed the agitation she was biting down and Reno's psyche revelled in it, already spoiling for a fight.
"I got stabbed," he replied apathetically. "I don't see your point."
"Should you even be off the ward?"
He scoffed, ignoring the question. "What else did Tseng have to say?"
"Reno…" The pity in her voice offended him. "You shouldn't be here."
"Why?" he countered angrily. "I work here. What's the big deal?"
Her frown slipped back into place, her eyes scrutinising his wan face. "He's gonna chew you up and you know it."
"I don't care."
"He's trying to help you," she said.
"I don't need help."
"Sure…"
He'd seen that analysing look in her eyes before, a quick calculation of how far she could push the situation. Unfortunately for Elena, that kind of math had never been her strong point. He'd never met somebody so skilled at putting their foot in it.
The other employees had long ago learnt there were some hornets' nests you didn't kick, and though he'd mellowed considerably as the Turks' reputation had become more of a symbol than a reality, he was well known for his quick temper should the situation call for it. Anybody else would've caught the scent of it long before this, and they seemingly had; nobody had tried to challenge his unsteady journey through the building.
He certainly wasn't going to shield her from his foul mood, should she feel the need to dive in feet first.
She did. "So you're screwing Tifa Lockhart, huh?"
Reno scowled.
"Drop the act." Elena leaned against the wall, smiling smugly. "She told me."
Something didn't add up here, and his addled brain struggled to piece together a suitable response. Why would Tifa have told Elena? They'd barely spoken two words to each other before Healen, and Tifa had appeared pretty adamant that she'd made a mistake in screwing him. He hadn't exactly given her cause to question her assessment of the situation either, so the fact she'd admitted the error in judgement to Elena threw him. His temper flared, damn her and her interfering. What the fuck did she think she was doing?
He brushed it off. "So I fucked her. Who cares?"
"You didn't just fuck her," she replied. "You slept with her. No wonder you were so chipper the morning after."
The memory cut at him, razor-sharp, and the gnawing ache in his chest worsened. Simple pleasures; a breath against his cheek, a warm body pressed against him. And then there she was again, on her knees in front of him, his mag-rod still sparking in the choking air, her pained expression etched into the forefront of his mind. One of the many nightmares that played on repeat behind his eyelids and refused to dissipate.
"You're clueless." Elena continued. "Have you considered she might be able to help you?"
She had no idea what she was talking about. Unable to string together a better comeback, he reverted to form. "Fuck off."
She ignored him. "She said you'd had a fight."
He walked away. Elena gave chase.
"She's got a thing for you, you know," she pressed on. "Damned if I know why."
Unable to deal with that concept, he shut it away.
"So what?" He growled dismissively. "Not my problem."
He needed to extricate himself before he said something Tseng forced him to regret. But Elena was on form today, comfortably in the swing of her one-woman crusade against him, and refusing to give up.
"I've seen the way you look at her."
Too late. His fist connected heavily with the wall beside her head, the impact ricocheting along his arm, his anger driven by how uncomfortably close to home her words had fallen. To Elena's credit she hardly flinched, her expression wary as she stared up at him. He leaned in for emphasis.
"How exactly do I look at her?" he gritted out, hardly welcoming a response. The tone of his voice was clear enough. This conversation is over, it signalled. Get the fuck out of my way.
"You need her," Elena replied simply.
"Yeah, like I needed the knife to my shoulder," he growled.
Her small hands braced against his chest, shoving him away from her. "I swear Reno… You start pulling shit like this I'm gonna hand your ass to you on a plate."
Footsteps in the corridor distracted both of them, as Rude rounded the corner and surveyed the scene with his eyebrows quirked behind his shades. Reno dropped his hand to his side, knuckles throbbing.
"Reno?" He sounded surprised. "Thought you were taking some R&R?"
"Don't you fucking start," Reno warned.
If Rude was concerned by the outburst he didn't show it. "Director wants us. You in?"
"Well I didn't get all dressed up for nothing, did I?" he snapped.
Rude shrugged, eyeing his crumpled suit. "Sure didn't."
"I don't like your tone, partner," Reno replied, slipping into something of his usual wit as he headed back the way he'd come. He tried to ignore the hollow fit of the words on his tongue as Rude fell in line beside him. His next question was cast over his shoulder, where Elena still hovered. "You coming or not?"
"Guys…" The worry was back in her voice now; she was relying on Rude to step in and back her up. "I think this is a really bad idea."
Her words fell on deaf ears.
"You smell like a cheap liquor store," Rude commented flatly as they headed for the Director's office. "You been drinking?"
"Not recently." It was almost true.
"You going to tell me about it? Or do I have to wait for the Director to spit you out?"
He glanced at the stoic face of the man beside him and shrugged a shoulder in response. "What do you think?"
Rude exhaled slowly, lips pressed thinly together. When he spoke his tone was grave. "You're better than this."
"Nope," he replied, letting himself into the office. "And the sooner everybody gets their heads around that, the better."
They settled into their usual chairs, the lack of conversation a tangible symbol of the tension in the air between them. Reno sank back and closed his eyes, unwilling to deal with the scrutiny from either of them. He didn't like the implication Rude had thrown at him, not one little bit. Sure, he'd be the first to admit his coping mechanisms lacked finesse, but surely they had more faith in him than to believe he'd willingly slip back into the pit he'd crawled out of?
He needed a drink. The craving had become reflexive now, the bite of the liquor in his throat a living need rather than a fading memory. A drink and work to do would sort him out, distracting him from the turmoil in his head.
"Either of them made a move yet?" he asked, the silence beginning to grate on him.
"Not since Healen…" Elena's words petered off and her voice turned awkward. Not since Erin attacked you.
This walking on egg-shells was worse than the silence.
"Maybe she's given up," he said, trying to keep his voice light and failing miserably. "Crazy bitch… We still got eyes on Seventh Heaven?"
Rude nodded.
The thread dangled in front of him. He pinched it between his fingers. "What's the situation?"
"Why're you so interested?" Elena countered pettily. "You shouldn't even be here."
"Whatever." He stretched out, folding his hands behind his head, eyes still shut.
Silence resumed.
He didn't look up when the door opened and then shut with a careful click. The sound of a chair sliding out from the table and a person settling neatly into it, the soft tap of fingers on the wooden surface. He waited for the Director to voice to reprimand he was no doubt overdue.
"Reno," said Tseng, voice cool. "Were we expecting you?"
He wondered how much the others knew of the situation. Tseng wasn't one for gossip, but his relationship with Elena made Reno wary. Her worry at his presence suggested she knew slightly more than the official line, and naturally, Rude had been included in her speculation. They were treating him like a ticking time bomb.
"Yeah, well…" He shrugged. "Cut my R&R short."
"I don't believe that was an option," said Tseng.
"Wasn't it?" His voice expressed a picture of innocence, though he could hear the false confidence he'd bestowed on it.
"You know it wasn't," Tseng replied. A hint of something then, a harder edge that Reno knew all too well; trouble on his already chaotic horizon.
He needed Tseng to understand how much he needed to be here; how it would stop the hollowness that threatened to consume him. He wasn't unfit for duty, he was just a little rough around the edges. As far as his comrades were concerned, Reno was torn, their questions and concern sending him spinning into bitter anger at his shortcomings, but he was still desperately unwilling to be on his own.
He needed work, something that would distract him from the voices in his head that didn't rely on him laying his inner self bare. He'd settle for paperwork for fuck's sake; lock him in an office and leave him to it, he didn't fucking care.
"Will you look at me when I'm speaking to you?"
The snarl in Tseng's usually calm voice had Reno's blue eyes snap open, and he straightened up somewhat guiltily, belatedly acknowledging that whilst he could throw his pissy temper around as much as he wanted where Elena and Rude were concerned, Tseng wasn't as suitable a target.
His concerns were solidified when a sharp nod of the Director's head towards the door signalled that the others were no longer welcome. "Leave us."
"Tseng…" Elena's voice was soft, a plea for leniency.
"Now."
So he was in trouble; wouldn't be the first time and he doubted it'd be the last. He struggled to care, watching the pair of them shuffle awkwardly from the room. Elena wrung her hands, refusing to make eye contact with him or Tseng, a touch of pink rising in her cheeks that only betrayed her concern. And the glance Rude cast in his direction only made him angrier; he didn't need their fucking pity.
Tseng launched straight in. "Leave, now. Before you make this any worse for yourself."
Could he make it any worse? From his current viewpoint, things already weren't looking that rosy.
"No."
"That was an order," he snapped.
Reno shrugged, the alcohol in his system making him braver and far more foolish. "I don't give a shit."
"You're a mess," Tseng countered. "I will not have you here unless you're fit."
"I'm fine," he lied.
"You're drunk."
"I've been drinking." Reno fanned the flames. "There's an important distinction."
Somewhere in his head, a voice was screaming at him to stop, to walk away and avoid the wrath of the man in front of him. There was a reason Tseng had been selected to be their leader, after all. He wouldn't shy away from any of their tantrums, and Reno's were no exception.
"Do you think this is amusing?" Tseng drummed his fingers on the desk, the staccato tapping a sign of his ever-thinning patience. "Look at the state of you."
Reno didn't think that was fair, he'd certainly turned up in worse states than this. Sure, his suit was a little more creased than usual and his eyes weren't so steady. But he'd slept off enough hangovers in his broom-closet of an office throughout his career, and he wasn't entirely why that was now an issue.
"What would she say if she could see you now?" Tseng asked.
The question was unexpected, a low blow, and his temper flared again, white-hot behind his eyes. He was sick of this now, this third degree. Since when had his extra-curricular activities been the subject of so much debate? And Tseng just sat there, eyeing him coolly, waiting for him to take the bait.
His boiling blood won the battle. "What the fuck has it got to do with any of you? Nobody gave a shit where I was sticking it before."
"You are a Turk," Tseng reminded him angrily. "Do not forget your place."
The part of him that rebelled against authority pushed forwards, ego antagonised by the Director's patronising words. He knew exactly where his place was, here, and Tseng would do better to remember that.
"Forget my place?" Reno's eyes widened. "I'm not the one fucking the rookie."
A touch of colour formed on Tseng's pale face then. "This has nothing to do with Elena."
"And it's got fuck all to do with Tifa either," he countered angrily.
"You went in without backup, knowing full well she'd already taken out the patrol team. Why?"
He knew why, but he'd be damned if he was going to utter the words in front of Tseng. Because of Tifa, he knew it more certainly in that instant than he'd dared acknowledge before; because he'd been angry, and frustrated, and her one-eighty had blind-sided him more truly than he'd imagined possible. The demons in his head had been baying for blood, so he'd sought her out to feed them.
"There wasn't time," Reno replied, echoing his excuses from five days ago.
"There's always time. Your lapse of judgement could've gotten you killed."
"I was doing my job!"
"No." Tseng banged his fist on the table, a rare crack in his polished veneer. "Your job requires you to request assistance. You were looking for a fight because your ego was bruised."
Reno chewed the inside of his cheek, refusing to meet the Director's eye. When he got his hands on Elena he was going to wring her fucking neck. It was becoming clear now that his messy personal affairs were no longer safe from scrutiny.
"There was no time," he repeated bitterly, unwilling to admit to the truth in Tseng's words.
"If you play with fire, you will burn." The phrasing might have been cryptic, but the follow up spelt it out loud and clear. "I don't care what you do when you're not on the clock but this is affecting your work. It ends. Now."
Reno suspected it'd ended back at the Lodge when he'd kissed her to make a point he couldn't quite understand, and she'd walked away from him with tears in her burgundy eyes. The thought made him angrier, Tseng's ultimatum only spurring him on harder.
"You're acting like I don't know how to do my fucking job."
"Apparently you don't," Tseng spat.
"I'm not an idiot!"
"You've displayed no behaviour thus far to suggest otherwise."
Reno stood up quickly, his chair toppling over behind him. He braced his hands on the table, eyes wild. "That's bullshit and you know it."
"You almost got them killed!"
The words hung in the air as silence crystallised around them and the memory crawled across his synapses. Years previous, an acquisition gone wrong, his reactions dulled by liquor and pills and anything else he'd been able to choke down on yet another bender; a desperate attempt to quell the screaming in the night. He'd woken up that morning next to a Wall Market whore, smears of her cheap red lipstick stark on his skin before he'd thrown her out and dressed for work with unsteady hands and a bad head. It'd been no surprise the job had gone south.
There'd been four of them present; three grunts and Reno taking point. He'd almost been the only one to walk away, when their mark had gotten nervous and tried to retaliate, spraying bullets indiscriminately from the iron staircase that clung to the side of the apartment block. He should've known better, would've, if it hadn't been for the lingering effects of the hangover dulling his reactions.
He'd been at fault, wholly and truly, and he'd have deserved any punishment they'd seen fit to mete out. Instead, he'd been given the benefit of the doubt, and an opportunity to repent for his sins.
"That won't happen again," he promised, though his conviction was shaky.
"No, it won't." Tseng sat back and folded his arms. "Take the time off. Sort yourself out. Don't return until you have."
"I don't need time off." He leaned forward on his palms. "I don't want it."
"Reno…"
"I'm fine!"
Was he? This was how it'd started before when he'd quickly found the fallout from his orders was too much for him to deal with, and instead of talking to anybody he'd turned to a bottle instead. He'd woken every day with a headache and a nest of vipers in his stomach, feeding them more liquor until they'd stopped seething inside of him. The rational part of him knew he couldn't start turning up to work under the influence again, but the realisation just made him angrier at the situation.
How was this fair?
"I wont run the risk of you making a poor decision and getting somebody killed."
"Me make a bad decision?" The words formed before he could consider their effect. "Says the man who murdered a witness just because he was pissed off!"
Darkness flickered across Tseng's face momentarily, a flash of anger that had Reno remove his hands from the desk and jam them into his trouser pockets instead. He realised he'd taken a huge leap over an already shakily drawn line in the dirt. In the same situation, he'd have reacted in kind, and he knew Tseng had already felt the rage of the President over his indiscretion. Tseng didn't need a reminder, certainly not from Reno, but that moment of clarity did nothing to soften his temper.
"Are you questioning my decisions?" Tseng asked quietly.
"Maybe I am."
"So be it," he snapped. "You're suspended. Two weeks. I will not sacrifice the others because you can't get your act together."
"That's bullshit," Reno retaliated angrily. "There's fuck all wrong with me. Why's that so hard for you to understand?"
"I understand perfectly," he replied. "This is non-negotiable."
"Then I'll go to Rufus." His ego fuelled his words, the need to be acknowledged burning brightly within him. "See what he says."
"And you'll be terminated," Tseng said coolly. "Unless that's what you want?"
The threat hung heavily in the air between them. Reno floundered as he registered the truth in the Director's words, unable to find a response.
"Consider yourself lucky," Tseng's lip curled slightly, eyes cold. "I had to fight to keep you here the last time you pulled a stunt like this. I should not have to do it again."
"Shouldn't have fucking bothered," Reno muttered.
"Two weeks. Without pay. Push me further, and I'll escort you to the President myself."
Reno turned on his heel, feeling the heat searing behind his eyes and crawling over his skin. He wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind him, which did little to alleviate his temper. When he turned the corner and found them waiting for him it continued to simmer. He didn't wait for them to speak.
"I'm outta here," he snarled, taking his anger out on exactly the wrong people. "Looks like you fuckers are free of me."
"Reno?" Elena made to follow him but Rude shook his head. Instead, they stood and watched him leave.
Later, just before he passed out fully clothed on his living room floor, he replayed the entire conversation through his head, struggling to pinpoint exactly where things had started to go wrong. The factors spun through his mind as the darkened room followed suit, and his fingers curled redundantly against the floor beneath him in a feeble attempt to stop himself falling off it.
The plate crashing down, the death count, the screams… The bodies he'd accumulated throughout his career, the guns he'd pulled the triggers of, the final breaths he'd felt choke out beneath his fingers… The blood, the stains, the darkness…
Tifa; a bright spark in the night that he'd clung to like he always did, failing to see the implications in his endless search for gratification. The need to see her face and to revel in her consumed him, and those snatches of emotion only fuelled his confusion. He didn't understand any of it, and so he'd reverted to his old vices in the hope he could knock himself back in line.
He'd gone straight from HQ to the streets he'd thus far managed to avoid, falling into the first dive bar he'd come across and indulging his craving for liquor. It had barely taken the chill off his soul, so he'd drank more, and more, and more until his eyes could hardly focus and his legs would barely carry his weight. And still, it wasn't enough to silence the siren call that haunted him or the tortured screams that stripped his conscience bare. Instead, he'd tried to gain access to a seedy establishment he was sure could satisfy his urges, willing to settle for anyone over the someone that was stuck in his head.
They'd refused him entry, citing his state of inebriation. His argument had incoherently formed on lips that wouldn't cooperate, so he'd resorted to posturing angrily, trying to get a rise out of the brute on the door. He'd been hurled into the gutter for his sins, and now his hands were raw, the skin of his palms grazed and bloody, and his suit was still sodden from the dirty water he'd found himself sitting in.
Not his finest moment by a long shot, he admitted to himself, as he lay next to his coffee table and stared at the tumbling ceiling above him, the poison simmering in his stomach and making him nauseous. He was vaguely aware of a bottle in his hand, its contents long gone, half ingested, half seeping into the rug beneath him. He had no idea how he'd gotten home or even what time it was.
He tried to get up, to peel himself off the floor and failed wholeheartedly. All he could do was laugh, an empty sound that made his mind reel before he turned to press his face into the liquor-soaked carpet at his back. Tseng's words echoed in his head. What would she say if she could see you now?
He couldn't bear to entertain that thought, so he closed his eyes instead. The darkness rolled around him. His fingers grew lax around the bottle in his hand.
Unable to compute the mess in his head, he allowed himself to slip back into the void.