After You're Gone

Author's note:

GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE!

This is just a little reminder for you guys, a little scooby snack to munch on while I'm not very active. I've always promised I'll return to the fandom, and returned I have. Watch this space for more Tseng and Reno from me in the none-too-distant future!


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So what now, Tseng? Tell me - what do I do now? You made me think you were always gonna be there when I needed you, and yet now? Christ where the hell are you Tseng? Where the hell's that righteous stoicism of yours when I need it most?

Buried, thats where. Eyes that held so much comfort when this shitheap of a city... this shitheap of a life, got the better of me - buried under black, unyeilding ash, another dead Turk, another dead scumbag who got what he deserved. The world isn't gonna miss another corperate assassin, we've both seen them pass before. They'll pretend to give a damn you're gone - a fake tear, a solemn face, and a few respectful words. But fuck them, they know nothing about who you were, and if they did it would make no difference. Tears, solemnity, damn pathetic respect. Nobody is going to give a damn you're gone Tseng! Just like me when I'm gone - nobody will care about me either. At least thats one way in which we're similar. That little bit of world that matters is gonna forget us as soon as we're in the ground.

Dammit, what am I supposed to do, Tseng?! I've never grieved for anyone before. I've been a Turk for so many damn years it's sometimes hard to count, and I've seen so many bodies, killed so many people, and I've barely even regretted it all... but seeing you dead? That look on your face of agony - the same kind of agony I'd seen on those souless, lifeless corpses, crimson pools lying beneath their lifeless bodies in some run down, dank alleyway of Midgar... Holy crap, my stomach's tied up in knots just at the thought of it, and I've started sweating suddenly, but I can't fucking cry. I wont let myself fucking cry, and for a good reason - if I started, actually let this normally hardened conscience of mine take control... I don't know if I'd have the ability to stop. You were always the one who told me emotions are a weakness, well, I've finally taken that on board, a little late, but I've learned it nonetheless. Just for you, Tseng, all Rude and Elena will see when they're grieving you are icy pools of mako blue, emotionless, expressionless...

I'll smirk and joke and laugh at your funeral, I'll act as though you were never anything more to me than that miserable son of a bitch who handed me orders, docked my wages, made my life as awkward as possible. I'll grin lecherously at all the women who'll come and 'pay their respects' to the head of the Turks - a guy they never knew, except for from his reputation. A guy who nobody ever goddamn knew... except me.

I can promise I won't let myself cry... that one's easy, but... I can't promise you I'll stay sane, Boss. I can't promise that when I wake up in the mornings, my bed is going to be empty, the sheets you used to share with a certain delinquent Turk... I can't promise they're going to remain pristene and unshared forever, kept as some kind of relic of you - the only guy I ever gave a damn about, except for if I thought there was a little profit in it for me. I know that Elena's words are going to sting when she calls me a cold bastard for not giving a damn, but thats the best I can do, its the only way I know how to grieve without losing my damn mind - to carry on, block out the pain, pretend everything's completely goddamn fine, that I don't feel sick to my stomach at the thought that I'll never get the chance to tell you the truth about how much you meant to me, and that I don't miss being able to look at you with a mischievious grin on my face as you try so hard to subdue a smirk.

The way your arms wrapped around me at night made this fucked up Turk here actually feel protected. There was no need to fight, no reason to keep my guard up, no need to do anything but watch you sleeping next to me, hair flowing over the bedcovers like a black velvet pillow and mixing with straggled bangs of blood red when I rested on you like some pathetic kid needing comfort, and yet the last time I saw you... there was a different kind of red tracing against that dark Wutaian skin of yours, fresh as paint, still dripping from the wounds and your hand still fucking twitching as though you were struggling to just hang on to life, to just stay here for a few more moments... just a few goddamn seconds. I wanted so damn badly to reach out and touch those blood-stained fingers as they passed me in Rude's arms, but you were barely out of reach, and I was more stunned than anything... and now I've got another batch of guilt to deal with in this fucked up head of mine - the guilt that I let you die alone, that I didn't say goodbye.

Damn... what a pansy I sound saying that, but I can't help it. I lived for a hell of a long time before I met you, being able to block out my emotions when it suited me, so why is it suddenly so fucking hard to do that again? Damn you Tseng, you bastard! I suppose you think it's fucking funny to get yourself killed, and leave me here? You're probably laughing at me, Reno, the pathetic prick who fell in love with you at just the wrong time. A month? Is that all you had left to give me? Jesus Christ Tseng, I would've died for you - self centred, asshole of a Turk Reno, would have took that damn blade 100 times over for you, so was it really that much to ask that you'd try to live?

Why the hell didn't you fucking run?! Why didn't you get out of there as soon as you saw the blade drawn?! Were you that fucking stupid? Come on Tseng, you've dodged death a hundred and one times as a Turk, surely you could have dodged the blade, ran to the entrance and straight out of the door! But you didn't, you went and got yourself goddamn spit-roasted, staggered to the temple entrance... and thats where we found you - slumped down one of the pillars, face contorted with the look of pain that had last passed through your face, and floating on a slowly spreading crimson cloud. You never even called for help, damn you, simply because that wasn't 'the way a Turk should act'. You should have screamed for me, you stoic bastard. You should have called for me to help you. I would have come damn running, wether Rude had tried to stop me going in there or not... somehow I would have got from the damn helicopter and saved you.

...

Somehow...

Shit, there's a tear rolling down my cheek, Tseng. You see what the hell you've done to me? I'm gonna end up in a rubber room because of you, because you let me behind the stoic mask. I'm a goddamn wreck here - shaking, tired... there are rings round my eyes because it's 36 hours later and I've not slept yet. I damn well can't because I know exacty what the hell's waiting for me behind those closed lids. 101 scenarios, 101 memories, 101 reasons why its my fault you're not here now, stroking a hand through my hair soothingly after a hard day's work, telling me I'm a moron for some tiny thing I've done wrong. I'm gonna miss that more than anything - the small stuff. Just the idea that I didn't have to come back to my crappy old apartment alone anymore, that there was someone there who actually gave a fuck about me besides how many guys I've killed and how many chicks I've laid.

Heh... well look again, the apartment's cold and damn near empty now. The air tastes bitter, or maybe that's just me. I'm settled down on the kitchen floor among the mountains of empty pizza boxes and whiskey bottles, a half-full one held loosely in my half dazed hand as I wipe away another fucking annoying tear. I'm trying hard not to cry - I've never had trouble holding back tears before, but the alcohol's screwed with my brain and instead of helping me block out the pain, it's making it potent and too difficult to ignore. The guilt's getting to me for hell's sake! That's a first in my entire life, anyway, and I can feel it brimming up inside me like boiling water, but thats something I have a feeling I'm gonna have to live with from now on. I can bury it, just like Shinra Inc buried you, in an unmarked grave. Something that doesn't need to be named.

Another gulp of whiskey. Eyesight blurred like hell, starting to slump down against the kitchen floor as each hit takes me nearer to unconsciousness - just the thing I need. I can't control my body anymore dammit - my grip slips from the bottle and I watch like a moron as I suddenly find myself lying in a pool of alcohol. Not that I give a damn, and even if I do there's nothing I can do about it. My muscles have given up the struggle for tonight and I cant move, so it looks like this will be my bed for the night. It's not uncomfortable, at least, boss - I'm too numb now to feel the pain. I close my eyes slowly, another tear rolling down the side of my face as I lie there motionless, at goddamn last welcoming that familiar haze as my brain follows my body, goes numb, and I finally start to pass out, looking like a bum who wondered in in the night and collapsed on my kitchen floor.

I wonder if your hand ever stopped twitching like that, Tseng. Wether it gave up the fight and finally let go, or wether it's still twitching... hanging in desperately under the soil. Waiting for someone to come and offer a little comfort to it before it has to let go of everything, and forget about what it was... what it was part of before things had to change. I need some goddamn comfort here too, but you were always the one who provided it, so here I am, alone again just like you. I guess I'd better get used to it. Life's gonna carry on, wether I want it to or not, and in a few days, if not already, that name of yours will be replaced with mine as 'Head of the Turks' and nobody will give a fuck who you were, wether you were good at your job, wether you even had a damn name. Nobody except me, anyway, and I'll be grieving you through my icy mako eyes. Laughing, joking, cheating, screwing, playing to the world like some fucked up actor so that I don't lose my damn sanity, but I've decided that can wait til tomorrow. I aint got a clue wether you can hear all the shit I'm saying, but if you can there's one last thing I have to say before I try to pretend to everyone that you never existed, and try to go back to the way things were before I fell so fucking hopelessly in love with you like the prick I am.

"Fuck... I miss you..." I mutter barely into the air, voice so quiet even I can barely hear the damn thing, and then I stop thinking and pass out, no arms wrapped protectively round my waist this time, no hand sliding soothingly through my hair, and at my side, my hand twitches slightly, just wishing for one more touch of the one hand - the most damn unlikely hand - that had actually shown real affection... to a guy like me.