A shot ripped the silence like a razorblade cutting through fabric. For a few moments, Reno's whole form was frozen solid. He was somewhere else, looking down on all of this as if reading a book. And now the red-haired young man, shirtless and barefoot, reaches for his gun with the speed of one who acts without hesitation. He pulls the trigger once only; it is an expert shot, obviously made by someone who knows how to handle his weapons. Then, when the body had fallen with a dead, havy thud to the floor, the young Turk was roughly and unceremoniously shoved back into his own container, panicked eyes searching the room for any sort of sign.

But there was nothing. The gun in his hand, the eyes he had looked into so much, and the body he had claimed as his own offered to sympathy.

He could not remember what happened after that. A chunk in his memory was missing, as if someone had cut out part of a filmstrip. There were some voices, or perhaps they were hands. Lights, or maybe flowers. To this day he did not know what took part in the length of time that had passed (hours, months, years?) between his killing the man he loved and finding himself in the administrative office in tears.

'ShinRa does not mourn traitors.'

Those words, a kiss sealed in a spider's venom, deadly and paper-white and filled with so many meanings that his mind would go into spasms. The world was split into two, and Rufus sat in a prince-like way behind his desk, clad in white; a spotless idol with a tainted soul and shining armour. It would have been so easy to do to this man what he had done to Nathan. He could feel sweat dripping down his back. A tamed beast, revenge incarnate, noble savage. Somebody was standing behind him. He could hear Tseng speaking, somewhere very far away as if through a poorly functioning phone. He could not find it in him to cry anymore.

A month had passed, then two, then three. The situation had blown over, the rumours had died down until there was nothing left but a small flicker of what used to be a raging fire. The same could be said for Reno himself. Gone were the antics and the carefree attitude; what remained was a shadow of a man who once was. Even upon finding himself in the arms of another, he would convince himself every morning that the body next to him belonged to the one he lost.

The Turks were a close-knit group. Their loyalty to each other and to ShinRa was the one thing that made them supreme over AVALANCHE, or even SOLDIER -- as well as the one fundamental flaw they all posessed. Having gone through so many things together, it was difficult and counterproductive to work with others, a situation which rarely came up as the Turks were most often deployed as one singular entity, or in teams of two. The loss of one was felt by all, and yet Reno seemed to have been affected more than them all combined. Everything he did reminded him of that day. Going out drinking with Rude - he drank much more since that day, seeking to drown his heart in alcohol - he would listen as always, and offer muffled noises to show that he was still paying attention. But the rest of it wasn't there.

Reno no longer lived. He simply... was.