WHEN YOU THINK YOU'VE GOT NOTHING

His crimson hair hung neatly in a pony-tail down his back, his bright blue eyes shadowed by emotion and memory. A drink was in his slender hands, a hard one, and his sunglasses, for once, covered his eyes instead of sitting atop his head. He had put them there to mask the tears in his eyes, but they had still managed to escape down his cheeks, he noticed, as one landed on the cuff of his familiar blue suit.

'How weak.' he thought. 'There must be something in my eyes.'

He had been sitting there, in that darkened corner of the bar in Kalm, for hours now. There was no one to bother him there. Everyone was out celebrating the destruction of Meteor. Everyone was praising the names of AVALANCHE, who had saved the world. Even his few remaining comrades had left him to be with their families. Elena was there in Kalm, visiting her parents, Rude had gone to see his sister in Junon, and Tseng...well...Tseng was gone.

Another tear fell from his grief stricken face. "No." he grumbled, blinking past the pain. "Nothing in my eyes, I'm just weak, plain and simple, always have been." He lifted his drink to his lips and poured it down his throat like it was nothing. Calling the bartender over for another, he'd lost count of how many he'd had.

He let his mind wander as he cradled this newly filled glass, reliving the past year, thinking of what he would do with his life now, wondering if Elena and Rude would ever actually come back. They had said they would after spending some time with their families. That the three of them would stay together. That they would remain the Turks, mercenaries for hire to the highest bidder.

"They're not coming back." he muttered. "Why would they? They've got families, they've got lives. Why come back to me?"

Truthfully, he would have loved to go see his family, too. Problem was, he didn't know who they were. He had been an orphan all his life. Didn't even remember how he had gotten to that little orphanage in the Sector 2 slums in the first place anymore. Midgar had always been home, and he had always been alone. That's all he knew.

He lived in that orphanage almost all his life. For him, life began with the small, shambled building, the bitter old woman who ran it, and the cruel young children who taught him how to hate. He was always getting into fights as a child--stealing, lying. All things he had learned from the people around him.

Finally, after years of black eyes and a loveless existence, he had run away to live on the streets. He survived as a pick-pocket after that, a bum, barely getting by. He was growing up, but he still hadn't become a man.

One fateful night, he had the perfect victim all picked out. A man in a dark blue suit, with long black hair, and the presence of authority.

'This guys loaded.' he'd thought. 'A businessman. East target.'

Try big mistake. Only a second after he had put his knife to the mans throat, it was suddenly against his. He couldn't even remember blinking in the time it had taken.

"Careless." the man had said to him. "Such a foolish boy."

He was trembling under the man's grip.

"You're still young. I'm sure you don't want to die."

Failing in his attempt to hide his fear, he had replied with a vigorous shake of his head.

"You will die..." the man had laughed. "...eventually. Before you're ready if you continue living like this."

The man offered him a choice: stay a bum with no future, or go with him to become someone. Guess which he chose?

He thrived as a Shinra soldier after that, receiving frequent visits from the man who had saved him. A man whom he now knew as Tseng, leader of an elite organization known as the Turks.

He climbed the ranks easily with his skills in fighting, cunning, and deception. The perfect candidate for the Turks before he was 20. Rude joined him in the Turks soon after that. A quiet man whom he formed a very strong bond with.

Years passed, and the three Turks became close friends. Even though Tseng was the leader, like a father to them both, they were equals.

Now nearly 26, he was the leader, the old pro. Tseng's death had left him with that responsibility. He was still just as cool, confident, and arrogant as always, but Tseng's was a pair of shoes he just couldn't fill. He had already failed in his eyes. Elena and Rude were never coming back. He was the last of a dying...no...of a dead race.

Elena had shown so much promise, he remembered. He had always given her a hard time, but deep down he admired her. The first female Turk. He could still remember the day she was promoted. It was because he had been injured by AVALANCHE and they were short on people, but despite a few foul-ups, she proved herself, more or less.

Rude. He had always been there, the ultimate professional. Okay, so he had a slight drinking problem, but who could blame him? Reno had his share of problems, too, but they had always drowned their sorrows together.

Now, all that was over.

He downed the rest of his drink. "...all over..." he whispered under his breath. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes again, but he willed them away. "In the end, I'm right back where I started. Where I always end up. With nothing and nobody..." He called the bartender over for another refill.

When you think you've got nothing, you've got nothing to loose.

He was just bringing the drink up to his lips...when a soft yet commanding voice dared to interrupt his brooding.

"Hey, Reno, mind if we join you?"

Reno turned, his ears not daring to believe that the owner of that voice was who he thought it was. "What are you two doing here?" he asked in disbelief.

Elena sat down next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Rude stood silent behind her. "We said we'd come back, didn't we?"

Reno couldn't believe his senses. "I...I..." he sighed. "I guess I didn't think you would."

"Why not?" asked Rude, taking a seat of his own.

Reno merely laughed, pulling his sunglasses away from his eyes, and forgetting for the moment that they were red-rimmed eyes, with dried tears staining his face. "You know me."

Elena smiled, secretly savoring those dried tears, a sign from Reno of actual sensitivity. "We have to stay together. We're a team, right?"

Reno stood abruptly from the table, placing his sunglasses on top of his head, where they belonged. "Wrong, Elena." he smirked, feeling somewhat himself again. "We're Turks."

A/N: I love Reno, and I am very proud of this fic--one of my first. I hope you liked it. Please Review!