Desha's Reno of the Turks Fan Fiction

Chapter 83: Suspended

By the time Tseng had made his way back upstairs, most of the team had gone home for the evening. Not surprisingly, however, the light in Veld’s office was still on. He found his mentor waiting for him.

“It took you long enough…” the older Turk commented.

“It was quite a large mess, sir,” Tseng replied.

“I noticed. And that’s one of the things I wanted to speak with you about.” Veld rose and stepped out from behind his desk, walking over towards his lieutenant and guiding him over to the more comfortable sitting area in his office. The pair took a seat on the plush couch. “What’s going on with you, Tseng? I’ve never known you to be especially blood-thirsty, but what I saw downstairs earlier looked like the work of a wild nibelwolf on a rampage.”

Tseng looked away.

“I’m… not sure,” he said at last. “Just the thought of what he tried to do… What he almost did do…”

“You were angry,” Veld nodded, “I can understand that. But Tseng…”

“It was more than anger, sir. It was… rage. It was despair. It was everything I felt after –”

Tseng abruptly cut himself off, unable to continue. Veld studied his protege, a look of comprehension forming on his features.

“After Mayu’s death,” he finished for him.

“And then some,” the Wutaiian Turk confirmed with a nod. “He might as well have killed them. That’s how much I wanted him to suffer. It didn’t matter that his plan ultimately failed. I don’t even know if I could have stopped myself. I had no inclination to even try.”

“I see,” said Veld. He was silent for a moment. “You know what I have to do, of course…”

Tseng exhaled slowly, eyes still on the ground, unable to meet his mentor’s gaze. “I know.”

“Report to Medical first thing in the morning. You’re suspended from all field duty, pending a psych evaluation.”

“… Yes, sir.” He swallowed harshly and glanced up. “What about Reno?”

“What about him?”

“Should the evaluation determine that I’m unfit for duty… He’s still my rookie, sir. Tres can more than handle Rude – he laid claim to him within a week of him being promoted – and Cissnei and Rodney are still new enough that me having to step back and let someone else oversee them wouldn’t be overly detrimental to either of them… but Reno is mine. Someone will have to take over. I would prefer Remy, but I suspect she’ll have her hands full with other matters.”

It was the last thing he wanted. But he could hardly put the redhead’s training on hold. He could still manage the day to day sparring and practices, but actual field work, of which his protege was doing more and more recently, would need to be supervised and assigned by someone who hadn’t just been unceremoniously yanked from the field.

Veld hummed softly. “That was actually the other issue I wanted to discuss. Before I found you sitting in a pool of blood in the basement, that is. I’ve been thinking that it might perhaps be time to consider… promotion?”

“S-sir?” Tseng stammered, slightly shocked.

“I’ll admit… he’s still a little rough in some respects. But even I can’t deny that he’s proven himself exceptionally capable in the field, both on his own and with a team. And not just today. It’s up to you, as his mentor, of course… but I think it may be time.”

“No. Absolutely not,” the younger man said, shaking his head. Veld merely raised an eyebrow in challenge. “He’s not ready. Not yet.”

Reno still had so much to learn. He needed guidance. Needed to gain experience. He was still a rookie and he was going to remain as such until Tseng said otherwise.

“He’s not ready?” Veld queried after a moment of tense silence, “Or you’re not?”

“He is not ready,” Tseng replied, emphatically. He wasn’t. He truly wasn’t. Reno was barely only just barely an adult, and still notably immature in so many ways. Besides which, Tseng had already made the mistake of abandoning him once out of sheer selfishness… and that felt entirely too much like what promotion would mean. For Leviathan’s sake, it hadn’t been that long ago that the redhead had reacted to learning that he would be moving out on his own by storming off blindly into a forest in the middle of the night. How in the Nine Hells was Tseng supposed to tell him that his rookie days were over now, too?

No. There would be no more talk of promotion for awhile yet.

Veld eyed him for a moment, his expression very clearly conveying that he believed otherwise. Finally he sighed.

“Alright,” his mentor said, “Have it your way. He’s your rookie after all.”

Tseng felt some of the tension in his chest ease at those words. He’d been all but certain the Turk leader would override him, given his newly-suspended status.

“Go home. Get some rest,” said Veld, “We’ll discuss logistics in the morning… after your evaluation.”

“Yes, sir,” Tseng replied getting to his feet. He made his way to the door, fingers closing on the handle. Before he could let himself out, the older Turk called his name.

“Tseng…”

“Sir?” he answered, turning back to look at him.

“He’s your rookie, but remember… he’s also part of this team. You have to let go eventually. You’ll either make that choice for yourself, or he’ll end up making it for you. No Turk stays a rookie forever, no matter how much their mentor might want to protect them.”

---

Reno yawned as he made his way into the office the following morning. It felt far too early. Probably because it was early. Veld, during his debriefing yesterday, had asked him to arrive a little ahead of schedule this morning for some reason.

Plus, the caffeine hadn’t really kicked in yet.

His first stop was his own office, to stow his crap in his desk and check his email… but he stopped short at the sight that greeted him. Resting on top of his desk, in a manner that seemed purposefully blatant, was a surprisingly elegant-looking bottle filled with a rich amber liquid.

He paused, looking around, as if expecting to see someone watching him from the shadows. Seeing no one, however, he stepped forward into the office and picked it up, reading the label. As he did so, he let out a low, impressed whistle. He definitely knew about this stuff… and even after having been living on a Turk’s salary for over a year and a half, had never tasted it.

He’d heard stories about it even down in the slums, though, working at the bar. It was made in a tiiiiiiiiny little town in the north of Mideel and was famous all over the planet. Maybe not as famous as the Banora White apple juice that was the area’s main export… but a close second. It was what was known as an applejack whiskey, distilled from a base of hard cider. They made it in limited quantities, and aged it in barrels made from the wood of dumbapple trees.

And it would have cost him several paychecks. Plus, he’d heard there was a waiting list.

He set the bottle carefully back on his desk, only then noticing the card that had been sitting underneath it. It was plain, white, folded cardstock, the size of a business card. There was nothing written on the outside, and when he opened it, the only clue as to where it had come from was a exceptionally brief note that read: ‘In appreciation. -R’

Reno snorted softly in amusement and shook his head at Rufus’ weird habit of saying thank you without actually saying thank you. And then grinned as he realized that he now had, in his possession, one of the most sought-after spirits in the world. That… was one hell of an expression of gratitude, when he thought about it. He quickly tucked both the bottle and the card into a drawer in his desk for safe-keeping, briefly pondering the best way of drinking it.

Shit like that you did straight. You didn’t mix good whiskey or water it down with fucking ice cubes. Hell… tempting as it was, he was a little hesitant to drink it at all. It definitely seemed like something that ought to be saved for a special occasion. Maybe his next birthday? Or Christmas? Or… hell, maybe he’d bust it out when Rude got promoted out of rookie status. There was plenty to share, and his friend did like a good whiskey.

He’d have to ponder his options later, though. He had a meeting with Veld in a few minutes, and something told him that being tardy wasn’t a good idea. The redhead shut the drawer and headed back out into the hallway, making his way down to the Turk leader’s office.

Turk headquarters was quiet, but apparently far from deserted. He passed Remy’s office and found the senior Turk pouring over some paperwork, an expression of frustration on her face. Reno opted not to disturb her, and instead continued on his way around the next corner, stopping in front of Veld’s office. He knocked and was immediately answered with a call to come in.

“Ah… good. You’re here,” said Veld, as the rookie let himself inside, closing the door behind him. “Sit down. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

Reno wordlessly eased himself into one of the chairs in front of Veld’s desk, wondering what was so important it couldn’t have waited for him to officially come on duty. He didn’t think he was in trouble for anything… which, really, just seemed to make the whole experience that much more unusual.

Veld leaned forward slightly, steepling his fingers together in front of him, and Reno suddenly realized where Tseng must have picked up that habit himself. He swallowed somewhat roughly. When Tseng did it, good news never seemed to follow.

“When I asked you yesterday to meet with me privately, it was to discuss additional security for Rufus while he’s in Kalm this afternoon… seeing as you’re his personal escort for the trip. But it seems I now have something else to add to the agenda. I’ve relieved Tseng of command, pending a psychiatric evaluation,” the elder Turk stated. Reno blinked in surprise and opened his mouth to respond, only to find himself completely unable to say anything. Veld seemed to ignore the reaction. “This is not for public discussion. The rest of the team will be informed as necessary, depending on the results of the eval. However… I thought it prudent to keep you a bit more in the loop since, as his personal protege, it has a direct impact on you.”

“… S-so… is someone else… ya know… gonna be trainin’ me?” he queried. Not that he didn’t train nearly every day with various other members of the team… but it was always under Tseng’s if not direct supervision then at least with his blessing, and the idea of that suddenly changing didn’t sit well with him.

“No,” Veld replied, “Being removed from the field won’t impact Tseng’s ability to oversee sparring sessions, range training, and the like. But… it does mean that the authority he’s always had over you is now limited. I want to make sure you understand that. You’re not to obey any order he might give beyond the environment of the training hall. I… am aware that might be difficult for you, given how close the two of you are. But for the time being, Tseng has no say in field operations.”

“Sir… What’s goin’ on?” Reno asked, feeling chilled by the Turk leader’s blunt and uncompromising tone. Veld sighed faintly and shook his head.

“It became very apparent to me last night that he’s… not well. I suspect you’ve noticed, yourself, that his behavior has been a bit off since Luca was taken from us. And I think you know him well enough to understand why.”

The redhead swallowed sharply. “Is he… is he leavin’ again?” he hesitantly asked. That, selfish as it felt, was something he feared above all else right now. Because if Tseng left Shinra again, Reno was pretty sure it wouldn’t be for an ‘extended leave’. If he’d finally decided that losing people because of the company wasn’t worth it, he’d go… and he wouldn’t come back.

“No,” Veld replied, “Nothing like that. So far as he’s indicated to me, he has no intention of leaving us, either temporarily or permanently. But… he and I both recognize that his judgment is not what it should be right now. And in a job where poor judgment can get a lot of people killed, that’s not a liability we can afford.”

“Yes, sir…” the redhead replied, shoulders sagging. The team came first, and if Tseng wasn’t making the best decisions for the team, he shouldn’t be making decisions at all. He understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood.

“Tseng will work through this. He just needs time,” Veld added in a gentler voice. “Unfortunately, circumstances have not allowed him much of that. Try not worry too much. I’m not about to let anything happen to him.”

Reno managed a faint smile. “Yes, sir.”

That, at least, was reassuring. It wasn’t something that he often thought much about, but Veld had been Tseng’s mentor back when he was a rookie. And as attached as Tseng was to his own rookie, Veld cared about Tseng just as much. Like the man had said… he wasn’t about to let something happen to him.

And neither, for that matter, was Reno.

---

Rufus hesitated not far from the elevator doors, eyeing the large aircraft with suspicion. He certainly wasn’t afraid of getting on board… just… perhaps a bit more cautious than he normally would have been.

And rightly so, in his opinion. For Ramuh’s sake, he’d momentarily been taken prisoner in it just yesterday.

The young executive openly glared at the helicopter and tried to make his feet move toward it. They felt as though they were stuck to the roof.

“Heh… Don’t worry, sir,” a voice behind him said, and Rufus could hear the obnoxious laughter hiding behind the words, “Remy’s flyin’ us there. Veld’s not takin’ any chances when it comes to the pilot today.”

Rufus spun to face the irritating redhead, with a glower.

“I’m hardly worried,” he sneered. The Turk shrugged.

“If you say so…” He glanced down at his watch. “So… we goin’ sometime today or…”

“We will ‘go’ when I say we go!” Rufus growled before turning on his heel and storming off in the direction of his transport. He could practically sense the size of the smirk on the stupid slum rat’s face without even looking back at him… though the bastard had schooled his features rather admirably by the time he climbed in after him.

Gods, how he couldn’t stand the little prick sometimes. And yet… he’d specifically chosen to have Reno accompany him today. All but demanded it, in fact. Annoying as he was, Rufus couldn’t honestly say that Tseng’s protege wasn’t adequate at his job. It was because of him that Rufus was able to make this trip today at all. His actions yesterday had been… unorthodox… but effective. And admittedly courageous. It had left an impression. Enough of one that he’d felt the need to reward it earlier today with a small token of his appreciation.

Rufus settled into his seat and glanced out the window, noting that two other Turks were boarding the second helicopter. The Mideelian one, and her lunatic brother or cousin or… whatever he was. Saya, he was fairly sure her name was. She hadn’t been assigned to him often enough for him to really bother remembering it for certain.

“Sato and Saya are gonna be shadowin’ us as backup,” said Reno, apparently having noted where the executive’s attention had been focused. He opened a case that had been sitting on one of the seats before they’d arrived. “I’m also s’posed to give you these and tell ya that you’re to keep ’em on you at all times.”

The redhead produced a small, automatic pistol from the case and a – rather cheap and tacky-looking, in Rufus’ opinion – gold wristwatch. Rufus snorted in contempt and accepted the gun.

“Am I to guard myself today, then?” he muttered, tucking it into a pocket in his jacket. Reno held the watch out to him, expectantly. “I am not wearing that gaudy excuse for a timepiece. I do have an image to uphold, you know.”

The Turk rolled his eyes. “Just fuckin’ put it on, sir… It’s a tracking device,” he replied. He smirked slightly and added, “Just in case ya somehow manage to wander off.”

Rufus scowled and snatched it out of his hand. He knew when he was being baited, and he wasn’t about to give the slum rat the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him. He looked the damn thing over in distaste before replacing his own watch with the tracking device. As much as it irked him… he wasn’t foolish enough think that it was just a matter of Veld being paranoid. And, though he’d never admit it, the idea that the Turks could find him wherever he might be was… reassuring.

“Hmph… fine. Happy now?” he returned.

“Thrilled,” the redhead deadpanned.

“Good. Now if Tseng would just hurry up and join us, we can get this whole nightmare over with.”

The younger Turk suddenly shifted somewhat uncomfortably in his seat.

“Uh… yeah. About that.” He pressed the button on the intercom that connected the passenger section to the cockpit. “Hey, Remy… we’re good back here.”

“Roger that,” the woman’s voice replied over the speaker. The engines started up, and the helicopter began to lift into the air.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?!” Rufus demanded, angrily. He had specified that Tseng be assigned to this security detail as well.

“… Sorry, but Veld ordered me not to tell ya ’til we were in the air so you wouldn’t go stormin’ into our offices instead of flyin’ to Kalm.”

Rufus looked out the window again, seeing the rooftop dropping away beneath them, and then turned his glare back on the redhead.

“Which I guess technically we are now, so…” the Turk continued, “Uh… Tseng’s kinda been… sidelined.”

Rufus narrowed his eyes at the slum rat. “What are you talking about?”

Reno sighed and shook his head. “Look… Before you start gettin’ all demandy,Veld didn’t exactly go into the details with me, okay? All I know is that somethin’ happened after we got back yesterday ‘n now Tseng’s outta the field. He was… s’posed ta report for some kinda eval this mornin’. I didn’t hear how that went, but seein’ as he’s not here, I’m guessin’ not so great.”

Rufus was silent, unsure of how to respond. This… was not a turn of events he’d anticipated. He leaned back in his seat, losing himself in his own thoughts. The idea of Tseng being so suddenly removed, if not from active duty, at least from field operations was… disconcerting. Tseng was second in command, a title that held any number of responsibilities. This couldn’t have been a decision Veld had made lightly… which begged the question, just what was going on with Tseng?

The Shinra heir had noted his unusually distracted behavior over the past several days, but had written it off as a mere overreaction to the most recent loss in their ranks. He’d assumed that eventually things would settle down and return to normal. Apparently, he’d miscalculated.

He glanced up at the redhead. “What are we going to do?” he asked, but the Turk shook his head.

“Right now, sir, we’re goin’ to a meeting in Kalm.”

Rufus had to forcibly bite back the growl of irritation that threatened to slip past his usual poise. Reno rolled his eyes.

“One fuckin’ crisis at a time, huh? We can’t do anything for him right this second… sofor now, we’re gonna focus on doin’ our respective jobs. That means you take care of gettin’ whatever the hell it is you want outta this meeting… and I watch your ass ‘n make sure it gets back to Midgar in one piece. We’ll have plenty of time to worry about Tseng when we get back.”

As much as he hated to bow to the redhead’s logic… Rufus knew he was right. The Corel reactor was a major priority for the Company. His father demanded nothing less than complete success. He had to made this work. Which meant he couldn’t half-ass it and hope for the best, with the goal of returning home early, either.

Rufus sank down into his seat, forcing himself to put thoughts of his friend aside for the moment. At last, he turned back to the Turk.

“Very well… One crisis at a time,” he said. After all, as much as he might be concerned for Tseng, failure was not an option. And that would mean ensuring that everything fell in his favor today. Sometimes one had to put aside personal issues and simply make that happen.

---

Tseng scowled irritably as he strode out of the wood-paneled office and into the cozy waiting room outside. He hated coming here. This little corridor was cordoned off from the rest of the ninth floor to give the illusion of unadulterated privacy. It was painted in soothing blues and grays, and lit with the soft white light of floor lamps and hidden, recessed uplighting, rather than the harsh overhead fluorescents found in other areas of the building. Even the carpet was plusher here than other offices.

But it was that Leviathan-be-damned fountain that really annoyed him. He supposed it was intended to be relaxing, and perhaps, if it were only the quiet sound of the cascading water, it might have been. But whatever artist has designed the thing… was, quite frankly, an idiot. Built into the wall, it looked more like an oversized urinal than the art-deco waterfall it was meant to evoke.

He’d never liked it. It was ugly, and garish, and didn’t fit the natural flow of the room at all. And every single time came in here, he inevitably found himself staring at the damned thing while he… ‘decompressed’… as the staff put it. It was their way of attempting to put potentially mentally unstable employees at ease before ushering them into their counseling session. Tseng was rather surprised it hadn’t inadvertently had the opposite effect on anyone yet.

He spared it one final glare before making his way into the hall.

To say that his evaluation had not gone well was something of an understatement. Not that he’d expected to be cleared for duty. He knew damned well that Veld had been right to pull him. A part of him was even grateful he had. His control was slipping. It had been slipping for some time now. He’d lost it completely last night, only truly regaining his hold on it again when Veld had come looking for him.

It hadn’t surprised him… not even slightly… when his mentor had sent him for evaluation. He’d let fear and anger and grief and guilt take hold of him again, and Veld had seen it for what it was. For what Tseng had been unable to admit it was until last night. A threat to the team. And though he’d done his best to hide it, it was almost a relief now, knowing that Veld knew.

A relief, yes… But there was no denying the shame he felt, as well. Tseng’s greatest strength had always been his ability to handle anything. Be it a firefight, a hostage situation, an unruly interrogation suspect, or a petulant heir, he never let anything get to him. He was calm under pressure. Assured. Controlled. That was what he brought to the team.

And suddenly that control seemed hopelessly broken. That defining strength gone. His gaze traveled downward to the slip of paper clutched in his hand.

Pills. They wanted him medicated. He was too weak to fix himself on his own, in their opinion. With a disgusted growl, he shoved it into his pocket and headed for the elevator, ignoring anyone he happened to pass in the hall on the way. At last he reached his destination and pressed the button to summon the car, standing in silence has he waited for its arrival.

“Ah… There yeh are,” a voice behind him said. “I’ve been waitin’ for yeh.”

He turned and found Dr. Ward rounding the corner, making her way towards him.

“Let’s us two nip over ta my office fer a wee bit ‘o tea, shall we?” Ward offered.

~end chapter 83~