A/N: Big thanks to Bouncymouse for kicking my butt a little bit and taking a peek at the first draft to assure me I was going in the right direction. And as always, thanks to my beta for making sure I stay in that direction for the final draft.
As a side note, the early chapters have been edited a bit to tighten the writing and hopefully improve the overall flow. Also, there is some minor additional content through that editing process to improve it overall. No need to re-read if you don't choose to, nothing dramatic changed. But I thought I would mention it as I'm happier with the piece as a whole because of it.
Anyway, enjoy!
Simple
The Shinra building stood tall and ominous against the gloomy backdrop of the city, and Reno couldn't help but feel a swell of apprehension as he neared it.
Donning a wrinkled suit and a stark white bandaid at his cheek, he passed through the crystal glass doors of the entrance—and knew his instincts were correct. The dark and grim aura throughout the lobby was a further testament to his summation, as was the heat on his back while he shuffled swiftly for the elevator. He didn't spare a glance in its direction, the noise from the cluster of tongues no doubt had a word or two to say about him. Any other day he would have had a quip to sling with sarcastic ease, but the sly wind was knocked wholly from his sails.
The protest encapsulated his thoughts like a dark blot against a pearl white canvas—he could see nothing else.
Following his rescue, he was partially conscious and half carried by a Shinra grunt into Edge's hospital against his groggy will. Through X-rays and examinations, it was determined nothing major, aside from his pride, was damaged and managed to miss a nasty concussion. Minus a few cuts, scraps, and broken ribs, he came out of the brawl relatively unscathed. Still, an overnight stay was deemed necessary by the doctors for the sake of caution.
Reno didn't have the energy to argue then, and suddenly wished he hadn't left it now.
The solitude and silence gave him all too much time to reflect and he ultimately gave into the sordid and reproachful admonishments of himself, leaving him feeling bitter and worthless. With a hazy recollection of details pertaining to the event that saddled him there, he hoped against hope the flask in his coat pocket held some mind numbing nectar for him to siphon.
No such luck.
Sobriety taunted him like a nagging phantom, and he'd give anything to silence it into oblivion. At least the pain medication pumped through his veins just fine.
His thoughts there drifted to the verbal browbeating he was liable to face as a consequence. It was just like him to go against orders to serve a selfish whim, and there was no one to blame but himself. It was he who dropped the bomb, he who took out his frustrations on the unsuspecting public. The choices he made would inevitably be his undoing.
As it stood, different rumors circulated throughout the city regarding the fight in the Plaza, but most hinged on Shinra losing its cool and striking out against the citizens. Rufus was quick to provide a message to the public, however, and with the promise of a thorough investigation, he swore strict disciplinary action to those responsible for the discourse. Peace was of the utmost importance, and Rufus would hold to his word.
Shinra was on thin ice, and all because of Reno's self-destructive and reckless temper.
Slipping into the elevator, he ascended to the fifteenth floor solo where his proud stature crumbled beneath the potent throb of his rib cage. The powerful mordicaine drip wore off minutes before he arrived and was left with a bottle of pills in his pocket. He abstained.
He deserved this.
Once the doors split, the silence swirled around him. The hall ahead lay empty, a seemingly endless path where darkness sat thick like an awaiting maw to swallow him whole. A foreboding hovered above as a generous tingle spread from his chest to his fingertips.
It was time to face the music.
He was several minutes late as he walked into Tseng's office, which was far more customary of him than punctuality. When he shut the door behind him, he was assaulted by the icy ambiance which filled the space between them.
Not a good sign.
Tseng sat at his desk, his eyes pinned to a file in front of him. When the door clicked, he folded the manila folder shut and gazed up at the new arrival. His brown eyes were dark and neutral.
"Have a seat," he said, hands weaving together in front of him.
Reno did just that, keeping his feet planted firmly to the ground.
"I would like to hear from you what happened that day." The tone was dispassionate, yet laced with a sense of vexation that Reno was awfully familiar with.
His lips curled into a smirk despite himself. "Not even gonna ask how I'm feeling?"
"No." The response was as curt as expected.
"You got the report."
"I did."
"Then you know what happened."
Tseng paused, his expression maintaining its indifference. "Tell me why."
Reno shifted, and his body immediately protested against the sway. His face twisted with the motion, pain radiating at his sides, culminating to his center. "He looked at me wrong."
Tseng didn't appear sympathetic. "That's not an excuse."
"I didn't like his face."
"Reno-"
"What the fuck do you want me to say, huh?" he spat, frustration flashing in his eyes before he could temper the outburst. "That I fucked up? Alright, I fucked up. I took a swing and got the shit kicked out of me over it. He shouldn't have been harassing our people to start." He winced at the conclusion, his middle strongly reminding him of its sensitivity.
The pressure of Tseng's folded hands intensified just enough to communicate his patience was thinning. "There are other ways to navigate a tenuous situation that do not involve striking citizens."
"And why not? It's what we're known for, yo."
"That image is outdated. We cannot atone for our past transgressions if we continue the behavior from the past."
"You mean the behavior that had us dropping plates on families?" Reno surprised himself, his candid response leaving him uncomfortable the moment the words fell from his mouth. His eyes narrowed as he stared toward the corner of the desk, pristine and polished just like its owner.
"We have done some unfortunate things under the President of old, but it's your conduct that currently casts the shadow of our former selves."
The anger he carried was like a kindle. Not much more than a spark was enough to set it blazing to the sky. His subconscious craved the heat. "So what are you gonna do about it?"
"What do you think I should do about it?" The inquiry was even, but Reno knew he was pushing him closer to the edge.
He couldn't help but snicker. "Doling out reprimands is your jurisdiction, not mine."
"How does termination sound?"
It was a possibility Reno should have expected, but the threat shocked him all the same. He sat still, hands gripping the armrests, leather bound skin straining above the knuckles. Maybe this is what he deserved, but he suddenly didn't want it. If he felt adrift before, termination would surely see him drown.
His pride wouldn't let him beg for a life raft. "Get it over with, then."
Tseng's gaze was scrutinizing, placing him beneath the spotlight. Each and every one of his ticks exposed under the proverbial fluorescents. He saw the dirt along with the well-kept and hidden secrets.
He saw his suffering.
"Would this behavior have anything to do with Ms. Lockhart?"
The question itself appeared innocuous, but with it carried an insinuation Reno didn't believe Tseng could ever truly understand. As his mind spiraled further into its depths to search for something to say, sarcastic or witty or anything to pivot the dog from the scent of the impetus, he came up empty-handed. He looked up to lock eyes with Tseng, who stared back with a penetrating gaze that continued to leave him speechless.
"I thought perhaps this impulse of yours to start trouble had to do with Rude's departure. You never outgrew the compulsion to bring destruction to yourself when your emotions are off center. But I received a much different answer than I expected when I spoke to him."
That traitor. Reno's expression shifted into a full glare, pursing his lips as he immediately thought of breaking his best friend's nose. "Well, he's mistaken."
"I think perhaps-"
"I said he's fuckin' mistaken," he snapped, his hands curling into fists. Clearly the topic of Tifa was a far more sensitive subject than he was willing to pay mind to. Denial was so much easier than accepting its existence. "Neither of you know what the fuck you're talking about, so let's put this song and dance to bed and just fucking fire me already."
Reno felt suspended in eternity as he waited for the hammer to drop, for the end of his career to come upon him like a firing squad, the blasts from the barrel to strike him down. But as he waited for the words to come, for the finality to draw upon him and close out another curtain on his stage of existence, he caught the glint of something within Tseng's eyes.
Compassion.
It made him furious.
There was no hammer, but a question in its stead. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
The query took him aback, and ordinarily his knee jerk reaction would be deflection. To his own surprise, he dove deep for an answer.
Self-flagellation had always been the way of handling his most troubling and biting emotions. He was often a puppet on string, commanded to carry out the requests of others despite any moral quandary that followed. Only when he hid away his gnawing conscience beneath the veil of external pleasures was he able to enjoy some semblance of being where he didn't punish himself for his failures in morality. Years of ignoring a screaming conscience led him to the inevitable moment where he faced them all at once and didn't know what to do about any of them.
Even if those affected forgave him.
And within that undercurrent of his tumultuous self rebuke was her voice and visage, spilling into with his sea of regrets.
She was everything, and it made him feel like nothing.
It was all too difficult to put into words. "I don't know."
"If you're to remain with Shinra, you will need to figure that out."
Reno stared at him, slack jawed and visibly incredulous. "I ain't termed?"
Some tension eased from Tseng's hands as they slipped from the desk and into his lap. "I negotiated a compromise with the President. Your behavior has lost favor with him. I admit his first response was to indeed let you go. However, we reached an understanding."
"And that is?"
"One month suspension without pay," he said. "It will inevitably leave us temporarily short-handed, but given the circumstances, this appears to be the more viable option."
The Turk recruitment program wasn't even off the ground yet and here he was fracturing their limited ranks. What timing.
He was an inconsiderate asshole.
"Upon your return, we will assign you a therapist to work through your more volatile issues. I trust you'll treat this one with a bit more respect."
Reno never had a good time with shrinks. Poking him with questions, prying open his skull to view the bits and pieces that were damaged and decayed sent him barreling for the exit or spitting venom at their feet. It was many years ago since he'd seen one last, company issued, and the result was a prompt resignation after two sessions and a trail of tears. They never bothered again after that.
To suggest it now meant his head was hanging from the guillotine.
His stubborn resolve wouldn't allow him to agree without a fight. "I'm dealing with my shit just fine."
"The Plaza report says differently." The neutrality of his voice was unshakable, "You take it or you walk."
"Maybe I'll just go to WRO."
"And you honestly think they'll take you?"
The question stung far more than he thought it should have. The gravity of his explosion suddenly came crashing down. Shinra maintained its tarnished image because of him.
He ruined everything he touched.
Tseng paused, awaiting another retort. When none was forthcoming, he continued, "This is your one and only chance, Reno."
Indignation crept its way in, uninvited. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask you to stick your neck out for me."
"You're right, you didn't. But lucky for you, I did anyway. So you have a choice." Tseng leaned forward, his forearms propped at the corner of the desk as he directed the intensity of his stare into Reno's obstinate eyes, "Do you choose self destruction, a path that leads away from Shinra into the depths of the bottle where you'll likely live until the end of your days? Or is there a sliver of self-preservation lingering somewhere that agrees to grasp the lifeline we're offering?"
Tseng dangled another choice before him, and he now faced a split path in the road of his future. All too often he'd made the wrong choice, taken the wrong path and floundered to right himself. The right choice should have been simple; it should have been obvious. But like roots sprouting from the soil, regret wrapped around him and held him in place.
"How do you do it?" Reno suddenly asked, his focus pinned to Tseng. When he angled his head in confusion, Reno expanded, "How do you handle the guilt?"
An uncharacteristic flicker of emotion crossed Tseng's eyes, something soft and tender yet razor sharp and caustic. When he blinked, it vanished, the mask of cool indifference returning. "I once thought being a Turk required detachment, a certain apathy to maintain. I adopted that process, and while it was mostly suitable for the duties we carried out, it was unsustainable. Eventually, those unconscionable memories remind you of their existence. Usually, it's when you're staring death in the eye with the glow of the Lifestream at its back."
The biting frost from the reference coated Reno's skin as Tseng appeared to travel through time, standing to bare the steel of the adversarial blade across his flesh all over again.
Tseng took in a breath and exhaled, as if to release himself from the coils of the past. "I looked at those memories and I accepted them. I moved on."
"It ain't that simple," Reno retorted, but he felt the stubborn resolve slowly drain away.
"Have you tried it? Because I believe your current methods are failing you."
His words of warning finally registered, and a cold drip of fear trickled down his spine. The temptation to dive deep into old habits was maddeningly hypnotic, but there was still just enough life in him yet to not give up.
The fight within Reno slowly deflated. With a wordless nod, the roots recoiled and set him free.
The choice was obvious.
A twitch of satisfaction curled at Tseng's lips as his posture relaxed. "I'm sure you'll work it all out with your therapist. Just don't drown yourself before you do." He flicked his hand toward the exit. "You're dismissed."
Reno shoved himself to his feet and moved for the door.
He walked in expecting the worst and was handed an alternative course. The obvious choice at the fork in the road carried a plethora of internal work. While he wasn't certain he could emerge on the other side of the forest without hopping onto the path of self destruction all over again, a lingering fragment of self-preservation came to his rescue and took the first right step forward to give him a fighting chance.
Maybe he deserved the worst, but he owed it to Tseng to try his best.
Reno stopped once he reached the door, turning to him with taut lips and clouded eyes. Whether it was from the pain in his ribs or something more emotive, he'd never tell. "Thanks, boss."
"Don't disappoint me," Tseng replied, his initial expression unreadable. However, there was an ever so slight shift, a thin layer of tenderness rising above the stoic apathy. "Matters of the Heart are never easy to overcome, no matter how it ends."
The proclamation struck him like a bullet, and he did all he could to maintain a brave face and silently leave the office.
As he stood outside of the closed door he thought of her, as he always did, as he probably always would. He thought of the choices he made that led them there, the first choice he gave her that started it all, the choice she gave him that decided the path they traversed together, and the choice he made that broke them apart.
His phone was suddenly in his hand, the display window illuminating her name. The temptation to reach her was overwhelming, like a sailor to a Siren. But as the pain in his sides joined with the pain in his chest, merging into a steady, pulsating agony, he knew it would be a mistake.
Things were better this way.
For their sake.
Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he rushed through the hall to the elevator as the feelings of self-reproach came flooding in. With far too much time on his hands, he resolved to numb himself the best way he knew how. Perhaps then the face of regret would blur into nothingness.
He could only hope.
Reno didn't know what else to do.
An inebriated slumber did little to ease Tifa's troubled heart.
Her night of drinking with Cloud was a haze that she didn't care to revisit, and he was kind enough to avoid the subject entirely. However, something seemed different about him thereafter that she couldn't quite place. She didn't press or pry, giving him space just as she always did. He was in a better head space now—he would come to her when he was ready. Deliveries would have him away most of the day, anyway.
She could wait.
It was Denzel who worried her most. His distance remained steady throughout the morning as she took him and Marlene to school, not offering much unless directly spoken to. She knew she needed to give him the chance to work through his emotions on his own, just as Cloud suggested, but she couldn't bear to watch him suffer in silence.
The specific culprit who started the Plaza fiasco was never publicly named, but a statement from Rufus advised that those responsible would be disciplined appropriately. The message to keep peace was reinforced, and Tifa had the feeling that he meant it. Unfortunately, not everyone appeared to feel the same as evidenced by the lunch hour discussion in the bar that afternoon. The protesters gathered as they had days prior to the event, their conversations borderline combative and aggressive in nature. Whatever plans they were deciding upon next, they didn't all seem to agree on the execution.
She wove in and out of those conversations with a deafened ear. The less she heard, the better.
Reno filled the spaces within her mind despite her will to push him out. If the rumors were true, that he was responsible for the episode, she was afraid of the impending consequence he would face because of it. Shinra was his life, and to lose it would mean a bleak and liquor filled slump. He was self-destructive; just as he was in the Plaza, just as he had always been. She couldn't save him. He would have to save himself.
She hoped that he could.
The park was on the agenda after school concluded at Marlene's insistence. She filled the drive with her bubbly recount of her day while Denzel took the back seat in silence. Tifa entertained Marlene's chatter, but her eye periodically wandered to the boy through the rearview. His silence and distance worried her, but she refrained from engaging him. She would have to let him be until he came around on his own. It was the least she could do.
A gray, misty overcast settled upon Edge as sharp fragments of gold peeked through the darkened obscurity as the trio took the flowered path toward the playground. A songbirds lullaby sounded overhead, distant and sporadic, while surrounding city life with its roaring engines came in waves. A gentle breeze wafted through, disturbing dewdrops carefully clinging to the soft yellow and white petals of lilies peppered between the greenery at either side of the walkway. Their aroma filled Tifa's senses with their essence, and with it came a memory that left her breathless.
Propelled through the kaleidoscope of recollection, she traveled to a night which buried itself deep within her sensory. To a time where they traversed the flowered path hand in hand, where her feet grew cold within a moment of fluttering whispers. When he opened himself and exposed the rawest, darkest piece of himself to her. When he took the chance to prove himself, his worth, just for her.
And then there was nothing.
Marlene's face brightened as they neared the playground. The space was a near replica of the historic Sector 6 location with the addition of monkey bars and a boxed sand pit now thoroughly disturbed with use. For those who remembered, it served as a bit of bittersweet nostalgia to the residents of old Midgar. For Tifa, there were no words to adequately describe its significance.
She would never forget, even if she could forgive.
A quick glance at Tifa made the wide-eyed plea, and a small smile in return signaled the reply. Beaming, Marlene shot off toward her comrades, childish laughter trailing behind her as a few recognizable companions craned their heads with wide grins toward the new arrival and waved her over.
At least someone was in high spirits.
Tifa sat at a bench a few feet from the play area, and Denzel took a place beside her with a gaping space beside her. There was a quiet moment between them as she looked out toward the children, playing gleefully without a care, without a heartache to haunt them.
She hoped they could hold on to that innocence for just a little longer.
"Are you feeling better?"
Tifa blinked herself free from her internal dialogue and gazed over at Denzel, the tight expression from her reverie softening for him. "What about?"
"I... Marlene was worried after that night. You were really sad, and she didn't know how to help you."
The uncertain shift in his eyes told her something more was coasting on the outskirts of his thoughts, yet he just couldn't quite bring himself to speak of it. She wouldn't push—any progress was good progress.
Tifa gave him a reassuring smile. "Sometimes what hurts ends up working itself out."
"What if it doesn't? What if it still hurts, even after…" he trailed off, hands fumbling and fidgeting in his lap.
The visible struggle gave her pause. As much as she wanted to reach out and cradle him, to soothe away the demons which plagued him, he had already outgrown that tactile level of comfort. "Time often heals all wounds. But, in the meantime, sometimes talking about them can help the healing process."
"Did time heal you?"
It didn't, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him that. Instead, she fell quiet, her thoughts drifting back to her recent loss; to the fleeting warmth of a touch and a sardonic grin accompanying a mischievous vista. Her eyes clouded with the vision as her heart hammered sonorously.
Denzel's voice was soft when he spoke, replicating the comforting tone she often provided to him. "I'll talk to you if you talk to me."
Perhaps Cloud was right—perhaps he could handle much more than she gave him credit for.
Tifa dug her fingers into her knees then, the tension rising her in shoulders and locking them taut. "I think about him a lot. About Reno."
His face grew somber with the admission, eyes drifting ahead. "Me too."
The talk she hoped for teetered on the horizon, and she realized she wasn't ready for it. "Denzel…"
"Why didn't you tell me?" He didn't look at her when he asked.
Tifa swallowed, the pressure at her knees tightening still. "I wanted to protect you both from bad feelings."
"Because you didn't want us to hurt over it?" his head dipped to focus on his hands. "That's what Cloud said."
She nodded. "But you did anyway. I guess it didn't help you. I should have known better."
Denzel paused, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. "Dad worked for Shinra. He wasn't a bad person. Arkham worked for Shinra too, and he wasn't bad. And Reeve... he's not a bad person. You like Reno and you don't like bad people."
While his words shouldn't have surprised her, they did. As much as she fought to hide the pain, the tender feelings she held for the Turk from them all, it was far too easy for them to see it. They witnessed her sadness, her grief. What other conclusion was there to draw? She underestimated them.
"There were many people who worked for Shinra who were stuck and couldn't get out. They did things they regret because they were forced to," she said, casting a glance toward the playground. The smiles and laughter pouring forth kept the burning ember of her hope alive.
"Was Reno forced to…?"
"In a way, I think. None of us had simple choices back then. Even us, even Avalanche."
"You hurt people, too..."
Tifa bit her lip, the reflection of the past weaving in on warped glass. "Yeah... we did."
"And you feel bad about it?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly at the inquiry. "Of course I do. I think about it a lot. If what we did made a difference."
"Do you think it did?"
It was something she spent years turning over in her head. She frequently attempted to grasp a definitive answer to the same query time and time again; the blood shed, the darkened streets, the contentious disagreements all in the Planet's name. But it wasn't just for the Planet. It never really was. "I'm not so sure."
Denzel didn't follow up immediately, and Tifa was grateful for the brief lull between them. When he did, her heart wailed in reply. "Is Reno staying away because of me?"
Another night she would never forget. Another night she wished she could. "No...it's complicated."
"I asked him if he'd come back. To the bar."
The chorus in her chest rose its tempo as the world spun once before settling on its axis. "What did he say?"
He toyed with the hem of his shirt through the corner of her eye, small fingertips picking at the fabric. "'I don't think so, kid.' He also told Cloud to look after you."
The grip at her knees strengthened, nails digging deep crescents into her skin as she closed her eyes against the swell of pain that greeted her.
Denzel scooted closer to her, the length of his arm hovering by her own. "Cloud is gonna have to leave again. When he does, I'll look after you. But... if you want Reno to come back, I don't mind."
She smiled sadly. "It's not really up to me."
"Just ask him to come back."
Tifa shook her head. "It's not that simple."
"Why not? I forgave him."
"Maybe he hasn't forgiven himself."
"Oh," he paused, palms resting on his thighs. She watched his fingers twitch, suddenly anxious to move them, to do something with them. "Maybe when he does, he'll come back."
No matter how much older he wanted to be, he was still a boy whose optimism managed to shine the brightest light on the darkest of nights. Time and experience would eventually grant him a fogged up lens of bitterness to peer through and view the World.
If only she could see it through his eyes as he did now—it would be a second chance she wouldn't take for granted.
For now, she smiled through the pessimism of her reality and reached for his hand. "I hope so."
Denzel returned the smile and accepted it, the warmth of his touch granting her a shred of comfort she didn't know she needed. "Me too."
They stayed like that for some time, watching the murky fog roll across the sky, casting long, dark shadows along the ground. Time was fleeting; moving on, moving forward, and moving away until the threads of life and love were no longer within reach. Until past regrets of missed opportunity were gone forever. As her eyes settled on the children, whose lives had only just begun to flourish into a promising, more tangible tomorrow, that ember burned even brighter than before.
Her happiness was worth the sacrifice.
"Why don't you go play with Marlene and others."
Denzel looked up at her curiously, hand still nestled within the confines of her own. "Why?"
"I need you to be a kid," she said, returning his gaze. "I need you to play while you can, when you can, before time catches up and takes it from you. You're already so grown up." She pursed her lips, giving his small hand a gentle squeeze. "Just a little longer, okay?"
He looked out into the expanse of the park, toward Marlene and her friends who joyously pushed one another on the swing set, giggling into the open air. It was a while before he finally acquiesced to the request, carefully pulling his hand from her grip. "Okay."
She watched him hop onto his feet and rush off to join the others, a small skip in his step as he went.
The moment he left her was the moment her face crumbled, fighting back the sudden wave of emotion that threatened to drown her. Her thoughts cascaded back to him, back to blazing tendrils of red, to dual oceans of aqua blue. How it should have been simple to ask him back, how it should have been simple to make that choice. Perhaps Denzel was right.
She didn't know when her phone landed in her palm, and she didn't know when she sought out his contact, but his name glowed like a lighthouse beacon to a weary sailor out at sea. Why couldn't she just ask him?
Because life wasn't simple anymore. It never would be again.
Not for them.
Flipping the phone shut, she gazed out across the park where her sights fell upon the lilies, softly swaying in the wind. Those droplets clung ever so stubbornly.
Time would have to mend this wound.
Tifa didn't know what else to do.