Disclaimer: I own nothing. FF7R spoiler ahead.
Author's Note: This is designed to be a 'what if' companion oneshot to "Libra" (roughly between chapter 8 and 9). It was my old, Reno-centric, kinda-AU multichap fic – a world where Sephiroth won and the survivors of AVALANCHE are trying to fight back. Given what FF7R has done, I wanted to explore how that Reno would've reacted. Enjoy (and if you like it, check out "Libra" and let me know what you think)!
EQUILIBRIUM
Target Status: Alive.
He remembered reporting in with Rude, unable to locate and retrieve the runaway SOLDIER; the distress on Cissnei's face when she too could not find him. He remembered the silence washing over him, Rude, and Cissnei in the briefing room, like the waves off Costa del Sol; the planting of guilt in his rotten heart, like a simple seed.
To this day, Reno remembered Tseng's flat voice, "The target is dead."
He remembered Rude swear under his breath. He remembered Cissnei's tears and her fists trembling like an earthquake. He wasn't good at comfort, but he tried to offer a sympathetic smile, but it probably came across more as a weak grimace. He remembered Tseng gazing at eighty-eight sealed letters on his desk, and the brisk dismissal afterward.
The iron mask of the Turks, slipping away.
All that emotion for nothing.
Target Status: Alive.
The time spent trying to find him, to spare him his execution, only for Zack to become the executioner. The time, the energy, the effort and the… the concern to make sure he was spared his fate. For nothing, for no one. Wasted.
His brain scrambled, Then where the actual fuck are you?
The backlit screen of his phone stared up at him as if it committed treason. Gongaga swam in his mind, echoing Loz's words, an unspoken promise of destruction – and with it, Zack's family. The phones his parents gave AVALANCHE and himself were all that remained now.
So he hacked into Shinra's databases, to confirm his suspicions.
It was dangerous letting him go – it was dangerous still letting him live, for two whole years after Sephiroth's win. But it was utter stupidity that they'd not yet thought to lock him out of Shinra's records, that Sephiroth hadn't considered or cared that Reno might try to steal information and monitor details. What game were they playing at?
Nonetheless, there they were – the Fairs, husband and wife, dead.
Except for Zack, when he should be. Except for Zack, when he had been dead.
Target Status: Alive.
He sat alone before the Cosmo Candle, staring into the flames as night swarmed in around him. Tifa had already returned to the Shildra Inn the moment it got dark, and in passing she mentioned she'd check on Cissnei for him, as she was not yet strong enough to travel, and her memory still suffered.
Would she remember Zack?
Would she remember the way her throat closed up and her voice died and her jaw clenched and clenched and clenched? Would she remember whispering that she let him go when she shouldn't have? Would she remember the way the guilt wrapped its arms around her and refused to let her go?
Reno's eyes snapped shut, the fire still dancing behind his eyelids. The ringing in his ears grew louder – the song he had long adapted to, the sound that made him. He stuffed a laugh down his throat, feeling it shake within his rib cage.
What would he even say if he saw him again?
He failed a good man. I couldn't save him, he said once.
He didn't need saving anyway.
Target Status: Alive.
Little Marlene would tell him to be happy, but he couldn't bring himself to feel joy. He was a Turk then and now, the last of their legacy – the iron mask of old had to hold. No matter the emotion or the cost. Besides, happiness in such a dark world made him feel sick.
Memories of Tifa's cutting words that still stung him. "I hate who you are."
"Not as much as me," Reno smirked. A chuckle rattled from his ribs and out his throat.
Phone still in hand, he leant forward and began typing faster than he could ever remember. The letters and numbers and asterisks whirred across the screen. He still had full access – every password, every admin privilege, encrypted file the Turks had been privy to. If he had been of a better mind, Reno may have checked other files too – Rude's, Tseng's, Rufus', Cloud's, Barret's, everyone else's too – to see if they had the same result. The same error. The same defect.
But Reno was nothing if not absurdly single-minded.
Admin Authorisation: Required.
If Rude were here, he would say: stop.
"Well you're not here, are you, partner?" he scoffed.
Reno was only a shadow of the Turks.
Admin Access: Authorised.
Files unlocked, fields became editable, and he clicked and clicked and clicked. He combed over the file for details, trying to absorb what he could; his mind raged at him, the ringing sound whirling around. If Tifa were here and realised what he was doing, she would've torn the phone out of his hands. But she was not beside him, she of sceptic faith.
Tifa was only a shadow of Aerith.
The iron mask slipped slightly, as her voice rattled around the ringing, "You've done a good job of convincing me that you were heartless, Reno, up until now. You do feel."
No. No. No.
Can't feel, won't feel, not allowed, it can never be allowed. The laugh erupted from his mouth.
File: Unarchived.
He clicked and typed and saved and modified until there was something similar to satisfaction settling deep in his gut. He tried to imagine how Cloud would have reacted, if he were here – if he saw what Reno had been doing. If he would ever understand, or even try to. If they even thought the same – but there was no point wondering.
And Cloud, that fucking Cloud, was only a shadow of Zack.
He was a goddamn ghost, and that's where he should've remained.
File: Updated.
No more heroes, only survivors.
The shakes coiled around his hands. The scales tipped once again.
Target Status: Dead.