Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September 6th, 0010
–Cloud

Cloud…

It started as a whisper. A transient whisper. The kind that drifted up to him from behind. The kind that was heard an infinitesimal moment too late, and one that would have gotten caught and carried away by the wind by the time he turned around, looking at the horizon afar.

Too familiar. The soft voice that spoke. The way his name was sounded.

And even though he told himself it was just his mind playing tricks, emotions would still grip at his chest, and threaten to burn through the stolid façade he tried to put up around his friends. Nostalgia, emptiness, grief; the deep regret that came with twenty-twenty hindsight, but he’d come to terms with the fact that there had been nothing more he could have done. And then…the longing.

He missed her terribly. He missed the smile on her dainty lips, her eyes that reminded him of a verdant summer, her small little nose, and hair that softly framed everything together.

Most of the time, it was a solemn gloom at the back of his head, not quite nagging, but there nonetheless, as he talked and laughed with Tifa and the kids. It was a little more unbearable in solitude, like when he tore through the wasteland on Fenrir for a delivery, or when he drifted into sleep in a full house, yet still felt inexplicably alone and hollow.

He missed Aerith. But after everything that had happened, Cloud knew he could keep going with all of his friends at his back, and she, and Zack, would be watching over him. And they would be proud of him from now on, he’d make sure of that.

Cloud.

Today, again, her voice came to him. He still flinched and turned around, gazing into the distant sun sinking behind the rocky cliffs. The same sky he looked up to every day was dyed in warmth. The same emotions swelled heavy in his heart.

Surely they’d forgive the occasional backslide?

He led his motorcycle into the garage then headed into the bar, where Tifa was setting up a line of glasses with Marlene’s and Denzel’s help. The scene was routine for him after coming back from delivering, and the familial feelings he got from it soothed away the ache and wear of the day.

At the sound of his footsteps echoing on the tiled floor, his childhood friend looked up from the children and smiled at him, tucking a dark lock behind her ear. Her hair had grown longer, though nowhere near the length it had been before during Meteor.

He had honestly been surprised when he’d first brought Denzel home and found the obsidian fall half the length it had been, but never commented on it at the time, too caught up in himself. Now, more than one year after the day, he’d been lectured by Yuffie, of all people, of its significance.

“I’m home,” he announced, lightly mirroring her smile.

“Clooud!” The children ran up to greet him, and he accepted Marlene’s hug while ruffling Denzel’s bird nest of a head.

Soon after dinner, the bar was opened and the customers started shuffling in, by ones or by groups, until the small bar was packed and Tifa was forced to let him help with bussing.

“Remember,” she wagged a finger at him like a mother would her son, “Take the bill at least, if not the tip, before you throw them out for complimenting you. And don’t destroy our properties as you do so.” The last words were said in haste before she left him with the tray and hurried back behind the counter to mix more drinks.

Tifa’s worry was uncalled for. He knew better than to repeat past fumbles.

The bar was pretty much vacated by midnight, with only the handful of intoxicated grumps who couldn’t give more of a damn holing up in the corners. As their cook cleared away the broken chairs and mopped up the messy mix of beer and wine and vomit on the floor, he awkwardly scratched the back of his head in front of a cross-armed Tifa.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“…I got the tip.” He showed her the wad of gil. It wasn’t his fault he’d retaliated when the burly man grabbed his behind after he’d accepted the money.

After ushering the last few drunks out, calling them a taxi, and dismissing the cook with the night’s pay, they closed up early. He left Tifa alone to wash the glasses after she gave him a warning glare about touching them and went up to check on Denzel and Marlene. The kids had somehow slept through the commotion, but he supposed one would have to be capable of this much if they grew up sleeping directly above a bar with paper for walls.

Cloud came down the stairs to join Tifa as she was polishing the glassware. He seated himself on one of the bar stools in front of her.

“Hey,” he paused, trying to catch her eyes. When he couldn’t, he pushed on anyway. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look up from the tumbler in her hands right away, but when she did, a tired smile crossed her expression. “It’s okay. I don’t mean to be so mad, Cloud, but we really need all the money we can get.”

“I know. And I understand.” He leant his elbows against the counter and breathed a sigh. The children were growing, and along with that, their clothes size and appetite. And then there was schooling. Barret could take care of Marlene’s part, but they were on their own with Denzel. “I’ll do my best tomorrow.”

Tifa nodded, placing the last glass down next to the others. “If you’re talking about deliveries then I’m with you one-hundred percent. But I’ll have to sleep on it if it’s about letting you wait the bar again.” A playful glint was in her wine-colored eyes, and he chuckled along with it.

Her gaze softened as her smile widened, and she reached over the counter to brush her fingers across his cheek. They were cold from the water. “You finally laughed.”

It was as if he’d been caught red-handed, the humor dying in his throat.

What was he expecting? Tifa knew. No matter how hard he tried to hide his inner turmoil before his friends, Tifa always knew. She saw right through him, said that his eyes gave him away, and that she understood he needed time to heal. She told him that he was making progress—great progress.

Was he really? Wouldn’t hearing Aerith’s voice mean he was still stuck somewhere fairly early in the stages of grief?

But the way Tifa looked at him, he saw not a shred of doubt. So he, too, believed.

How dependent he was being. “Thanks, Tifa.” For always being there.

Listen…

Lying in the silence of his room, her voice was even clearer, and he could almost hear urgency in it. Urgency that unsettled him to the point of restlessness.

He rolled over to his back and rubbed a thumb between his furrowed eyebrows. He hadn’t told Tifa about this, and perhaps he should. Perhaps talking about it would resolve whatever issues he was having to be hearing things. Or perhaps Tifa would get angry that he’d kept it from her and kick him hard enough that he’d snap out of it. Either way, talking to her would work.

Cloud smiled at the thought, his unease curbed by the knowledge of Tifa’s presence in his life. He spent a few more moments watching the familiar shadows imprinted onto his wall by the streetlight slicing through the curtains, before closing his eyes and allowing sleep to take him.

Coming…

The darkness was thick, weighing down on him like drying tar, smothering him. His breathing became labored, heart quivered with bleary fear. He struggled, limbs flailing as though with enough force he could pull himself to the surface of this lightless, soundless ocean.

Then he heard it, the echo of a droplet hitting clear water. All around him, the world was painted in white, that single sound washing away all the umbra, and along with it his dread, releasing him onto an endless field of lilies.

He stumbled among the flowers but regained his balanced shortly.

He froze when he realized a small back was pressed up against his.

“Can you hear me now?”

He caught his breath, shoulders stiff, body taut, afraid to move.

“I’m sorry, Cloud.”

“He’s coming…”

Before he could understand what her words meant, she yelped, and he felt her warmth disappear from his side. He shouted for her, but no sound came out.

Darkness took over his vision. No. Black. Black like the coattail trailing across raging fire. Hot. Scalding. Rippled pond in the luminous forest.

To the Forgotten Capital. For the forgotten one.

Mane of liquid moonlight. Like silver. Like madness. Chatoyant eyes of madness.

He’s coming back.

Cloud shot up from his bed, cold sweat rolling down his neck, heart banging for a way out of his ribcage. His eyes were a saccadic, glowing blue.

A crash startled Tifa out of her shallow sleep, and she kicked back her blanket, sprung to her feet and assumed a fighting pose, ready to take on any adversary through sheer reflex alone as her vision was still fuzzy.

When she sensed no incoming danger, her posture relaxed, and she allowed herself a few seconds to collect her muddled mind. As soon as she could think clearly enough to realize the kids might be the one being threatened instead, Tifa bolted out of her door, slamming her fist onto the switch out in the corridor and let light flood the narrow space.

To her momentary relief, the door to their room remained closed. However, Cloud’s were wide open.

Before she could think anything of it, clattering noises got her turning towards the stairwell. They were coming from below.

Tifa took a deep breath to calm herself and made her way down to the bar, careful not to make a sound just in case.

“Cloud?” she called from the threshold as she found him scrabbling around the place, stopping him in whatever he was doing. His back was to her, and he was wearing his travelling clothes. With growing alarm, she saw the heavy belt of holsters lining the length of his back. He rarely ever used that anymore, unless he was headed to a dangerous area. And that thought deepened her worry.

When he didn’t turn around, she called again. “Cloud, what’s wrong? Where are you going?” She hugged her pajamas to herself, the action having little to do with the chilly weather.

As though her question snapped him out of his stupor, Cloud resumed rummaging through the shelf he was facing. “I-I need to leave.”

“What? Why?” She walked fully into the bar, confusion laded her voice. She didn’t understand. Did something happen? This was too sudden. Was this about Aerith? Would the flower girl ever release her hold on him? He was doing fine. Why now? He was doing so well—Was it all in Tifa’s imagination? An illusion she’d woven around her wishful self, so that she may keep thinking Cloud would one day look her way?

“Aerith…” The name that escaped his lips wounded her. She’d expected it, but it still hurt more than she could bear—and almost every bone in her body had at some point been broken during their quest. “She called for me. She needs my help.”

“This again. Cloud, Aerith is dead!” The words came out more spiteful than intended, but she didn’t care right now. “She couldn’t have called for you.”

He shook his head, back still turned, and she was getting angrier the longer she spent looking at it. The least—the very least he could do was look her in the eye before leaving her stranded again. “You don’t understand. She’s been…I’ve heard her voice over the week. I thought it was just me, but it’s not.”

He’d been hearing voices! That explained his moody bum these past few days. “You are not thinking clearly. Look, let’s calm down. Go back to bed, and then we can figure things out in the morning, okay?”

Cloud ignored her and took out the emergency kit of materia and potions they hid behind all the miscellaneous jars, going through it in an impatient clip, but Tifa wouldn’t have this anymore. She strode up to him and grabbed a handful of his sleeve, forcing him to face her.

“Cloud, for Gaia—” The mako eyes that stared back at her startled her into silence. Did his irises just narrow into slits? Her grip on him faltered, and he freed himself with a shrug. The emergency kit closed and tucked under his arm, he gave her a look so determined she was almost convinced he was every bit as rational as he believed himself to be. Almost.

“Sorry, Tifa,” he had the decency to look guilty, eyes downcast as he muttered, “He’s coming back.”

“W-who?” she asked, but at the back of her mind, a voice already answered: Sephiroth.

“Take care of Denzel and Marlene. I promise I’ll be back as soon as possible.” Cloud sprinted past her, and she made to stumble after him, but her baggy pajamas had gotten caught by one of the sharper corners of a drawer. She hissed in frustration, dislodging the fabric, and chased Cloud to the garage, where he was already leading Fenrir out the door.

“Wait, Cloud!” She caught up to him, barefooted out in the street, as he mounted the bike and pulled his goggles down. “Wait until morning. I-I’ll come with you.” If he was having a manic episode then she just needed to bid her time.

“You can’t. It’s too dangerous. And who’ll watch the kids?” He pointed out with a raised brow like she was the one talking crazy.

“I can call someone.”

“I’ll be fine, Tifa. I’ll keep you updated.” He reached for her face, gloved thumb stroking her cheek, his warmth radiating through the leather ever so fleetingly. Liar! Or was he telling the truth? She couldn’t tell, couldn’t see his eyes. The goggles were obscuring his beautiful eyes.

It was only when the roar of engine faded around the corner of the dark street that Tifa allowed a hot tear to trickle down the side of her cold cheek. Even then, embarrassment still knotted in her throat. She didn’t want to be so weak. Once again, she couldn’t keep him from leaving, didn’t know how to, though intelligently she knew the tears freely rolling down her face right now would have been more than enough.

But she couldn’t, still too proud to resort to cheap feminine wiles. She supposed this was what set her apart from Aerith.

And she supposed, this was the reason why Cloud’s eyes would never linger on her.

Chapter Text

xxx xx, 0009
–Aerith

She held her love’s hand, feeling the strength in his grip flowing into her. His kind blue eyes gazed at her beneath strong, dark brows, a boyish aplomb in their depths. The lone lock of hair that fell before his face swayed in the gentle wind, and she raised a hand to brush it away, only for it to fall back in place.

“Ready?” he asked with a jerk of his chin.

She nodded, facing in front, head held high. By his side? “Always.”

So together they walked. Through the hill of summer lilies, through the fair sky of spring, through the gentle, melodious ebb and flow of life, and towards the wintery forest in which the fallen angel ensconced himself.

October 31st, 0010
–Tifa

It was coming onto two months since Cloud had left, and two weeks since he’d stop answering his phone. The children were getting antsy about his absence, Denzel especially, and she was running out of reassurances to console both them and herself.

For the first few weeks, he’d picked up the phone, never once letting her calls go into voicemail. That had been her one relief, because it meant he wasn’t pushing her away.

He’d been few of words as usual, though, and the phone calls never really lasted for long. She didn’t dare call him too much, afraid he’d find her annoying and stop answering at all. She did try to find out more about his…quest, but he was evasive and didn’t elaborate much, just that he was headed for the Forgotten Capital, convinced Sephiroth was back and plotting.

The last time they talked, she’d attempted to persuade him to come home. He hadn’t found anything in the Forgotten Capital anyway, and if Sephiroth really was back, she and their friends could help. Of course, always trying to do everything by himself, Cloud had dismissed her suggestion.

The next night when she called his phone again, it’d rung twice before the line was terminated. And now his phone was offline.

Tifa couldn’t help but fear she’d somehow offended him into silence.

He hadn’t sounded mad, but with his voice a permanent moody drawl, who could tell, really? And if he wasn’t ignoring her calls on purpose, if his PHS really was flat, then what had happened to him? Was he hurt? Incapacitated somewhere in a coma? Or, Gaia, dead?

Tifa had contacted all their friends, hoping that they had at least seen him around, but no one knew any better. Barret said he would kick Cloud’s behind if he saw the blond, Yuffie promised to steal all of his materia so he’d have no choice but to return, and Cid swore to have Shera drug Cloud’s tea and drop him off at her door.

They were all trying to cheer her up, and though the lighthearted jokes had pleasantly tugged at her lips at the moment of cracking, in the end she still had no idea where Cloud might be.

Vincent and Nanaki, on the other hand, expressed their sympathy and said they would inform her if Cloud came by. Vincent had also asked if she thought Sephiroth was back. She only gave a wry shake of her head and, realizing Vincent couldn’t see her, said no. Sephiroth and his god complex would have burnt down a town or two already. So no, she didn’t think the monster was back, but…she could.

If the peaceful life was too humdrum for Cloud, and if believing that a great evil was threatening the Planet again could give him a purpose in life, then she’d believe together with him. She’d stand by his side and believe the heck out of it.

She wanted to be out there chasing after him. She’d do it on foot if she must, but she wouldn’t rest until Cloud turned up safe and sound.

But alas she was stuck pacing the premise of her home. Denzel and Marlene needed her. They needed a constant parental figure in their lives, and clearly Cloud wasn’t going to be that figure.

It was times like this that she wished Shelke was still around. The young girl had disappeared ever since Shalua passed away, and Tifa could only tell herself Shelke was okay. Because between the children and the bar, and now Cloud, she couldn’t afford to worry about another person.

“Tifa, truly, we can spare some personnel to keep looking.” Reeve insisted, sitting at the bar swirling his drink thoughtfully.

But Tifa couldn’t let him use any more of WRO’s limited resources. The world had suffered crisis after crisis, and it needed all the help they could give.

She shook her head and kept her gaze strictly on the glass she was polishing. “No, Reeve. I’m sure Cloud just lost his PHS fighting a monster or something. He’s strong. He’ll be okay. This isn’t the first time it’s happened.” She was trying to convince herself, more than anyone, of those facts.

“Look—”

“Refill please!” A customer came up to them with empty beer mugs and crumpled notes of gil, slurring his words a little. His high cheekbones made the drunken blush all the more prominent.

She excused herself for a moment to take the mugs from the man with a smile, thankful for the interruption. In all truth, she was of two minds. The ambiguity of Cloud’s welfare was eating her alive, but the thought that a report might come back with the worst absolute terrified her into idleness.

When she returned, Reeve’s sigh was audible over the noisy bar as he scratched his bearded jaw. “One team,” he bargained. “I’m worried about him, too.”

“He’s a grown man, Reeve.” A grown man that still had an imaginary friend. Okay, so maybe Tifa was bitter. But he’d lied. He’d promised to stay in touch. “Cloud can take care of himself. I just forgot…how he is. He was picking up at first, so I just thought— I guess he found it too much trouble after all, and I overreacted.”

Tifa felt Reeve’s large hand place over her knuckles and realized she was clenching her fists. She didn’t trust herself to look up, knowing his dark eyes would be full of concern. If she saw it, she might just break down and rely on him again.

Reeve was too kind. She couldn’t keep on bothering him like this.

She breathed, gathering her bearings, and withdrew her hand as she met his gaze. “Thanks. I’m okay. You should focus on Junon. And!” she held up a finger to stop Reeve from speaking, “If I find out you’re still looking for Cloud, you’ll be answering to me. Got it?”

He frowned, a sort of pout curving his mouth.

“I don’t hear a ‘yes,’ Tuesti.” She laced her tone with mock indignation, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“All right, all right, I’ll call off the search.” Reeve held up his hands, leaning away from the counter. “I’d like these old bones to be intact for retirement.”

Tifa laughed for the first time in two weeks.

Yes, just like this. She had to keep her spirits up and believe Cloud would come back to her. He always did, eventually, and it was her role to welcome him back with a smile. Tifa loved Cloud, and nothing was going to change that. One day, he too would see her in the same light, but until then, she would wait.

Until then, as long as Cloud was okay, it was all that mattered.

November 2nd, 0010
–Tifa

Cloud may be okay, but she was not.

Tifa sat on the bed in Cloud’s room, leaning against the wall and staring blankly at the fragmented sunlight on the dreary grey paint before her. Her knees were bent, upon which she rested her arm, twiddling her cold fingers in idle silence.

She didn’t care to go through the miscellaneous things Cloud had left behind to look for some sort of hint of his whereabouts. She’d exhausted that option on the night he stopped answering the phone. Cloud didn’t keep that many personal effects, anyway. The man could never quite seem to shrug off his minimalistic tendencies from the days of training for SOLDIER. No surprise, really. He wasn’t exactly adept at letting go.

She didn’t want to look at the scrapbook-ish project he had on the wall at her back, with pictures of the places he’d visited on his deliveries and the little notes expressing his enthusiasm for them. It would only remind her just how much his heart wasn’t here with her, make her feel like the villain sometimes for caging him in this dull, boring life, and wonder if she’d pushed him so hard that he went into psychosis just to get away.

Though, it made no difference that she didn’t scrutinize the pictures today. With one glance, she could point out the newer additions to his collection, and perhaps even name the chronological order to some of them.

Tifa had already memorized the whole thing from all the times she’d stared at it in jealousy.

All these places he’d been to, whereas she couldn’t remember the last time she’d wandered on a chocobo’s back. All these photos of towns and nature she recognized, but never got a chance to enjoy for the quest to save the world hadn’t allowed leeway for sightseeing. All these people caught on camera during their daily routines, but not a single picture of her.

Oh the irony that after losing her biggest rival for Cloud’s heart, she was now envying strangers and locations.

So yes, she had been into Cloud’s room when he was out more times than was healthy.

This little habit of retreating to his room had formed long ago, even before his departure. It was her swift respite for the day, when the kids had been sent off to school with their packed lunches and she was left all alone in the vastness of her house.

When Cloud had just left, she was careful not to disturb anything in the room, only stood around, taking in the way his personality had shaped the room, in case he came back to her. Every day that passed was one less thing she bothered putting back before leaving, and roughly two weeks in she had already displaced just about everything in the room.

So here she perched boldly on his bed, tipping her head back to take a deep breath.

Because all the windows were closed, the air was a little bit stuffy, coming onto stale. She kept his room clean without the aid of cleaning products to preserve his lingering scent for as long as she could. It was sad, creepy even, but she was long past caring.

Cloud’s scent was that of warmth and dirt. Simple and musky, mingling with smells from whatever he’d been doing before she happened to catch a whiff.

Sometimes it was tinged with the sharp jab of oil and grease from working on Fenrir. Sometimes it mimicked her own smell when he ran out of shampoo and forgot to buy more, making her pulse thrum nervously. Sometimes it carried that ephemeral sweetness back from a certain dilapidated church that left her with a heavy heart.

But in this room, his scent was purely his alone. And that scent was waning all too quickly.

She was not okay.

“Cloud, you idiot…” she muttered to the empty space. “Come back already.”

Tifa lay down on the bed and buried her face into his pillow, eyes closed, letting thoughts of Cloud fill her mind.

The seconds and minutes, and maybe even hours ticked past.

The phone down in the bar started ringing, and she stirred but chose to ignore it. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now, and usually only telemarketers called her landline. However, after the ringing stopped echoing up the stairwell, it didn’t take long for her PHS to vibrate with a cheery tone that jarred against her disheartening mood.

She cracked her eyes open and peer at the phone, had half a mind to ignore it. too, before she read the name on the screen.

“Oh, hi Reeve…No, I wasn’t. I’m, um—Anyway, what’s up?”

His next words got her bolting up straight, “Can we meet? It’s about Cloud.”

Chapter Text

November 2nd, 0010
-Reeve

The office was small, grey and mostly empty except for the necessary furniture and a pot of yellowing plants to break the monotone.

Reeve was slouching in his chair in the WRO headquarters, eyeing the reports in his hand with solemn pensiveness. The sun had only reached overhead, but he was already running on evening fuel. He squeezed his eyes together as he ground his temple with a knuckle to delay a looming migraine.

It wasn't so much a physical exhaustion, but rather a mental one that accumulated through months of restless sleep.

He could never seem to catch a break ever since WRO was founded. They were struggling to find volunteers, hard-pressed for an energy source that didn't involve mako, and scraping around for an…alternate source of funding. And now, to add to the batch, Cloud was missing, and not because of another one of his I'm-not-coming-home episode like Tifa thought.

The blond was in hiding.

Reeve shifted in his seat, the worn leather squeaking against his clothes, as he thought about his last phone call with Cloud. It had been in the middle of the night that Reeve was roused from his sleep by the beeping of his PHS. Cloud had sounded frantic as his words quickly drained the blood from Reeve's face. Sephiroth was back, Shin·Ra was helping Sephiroth, and Cloud was now being pursued by Shin·Ra.

With a hasty plea that Reeve looked after Tifa, the call had ended before Reeve could learn anything more.

There had been no further contact from Cloud since that night, the blond most likely having destroyed his PHS to avoid being detected, and Reeve was left in doubt. He felt bad that he was keeping this from Tifa, but all things considered, Sephiroth's return wasn't a knowledge he could pass on freely without knowing for sure what was going on. It would actually be irresponsible to tell without looking further into this turn of events.

In the first place, how had Sephiroth come back? Why hadn't there been any sign of the ex-General? Sephiroth wasn't one to stay low. Was it possible Shin·Ra was covering up Sephiroth's track? But Sephiroth despised Shin·Ra, did he not? Reeve couldn't see the two working together.

The integrity of Cloud's information was also called to question at this point. Tifa said Cloud was hearing the dead Aerith's voice before he left. A mental breakdown? Then, how lucid was Cloud when he'd imparted these alarming information? And where was he now?

So many questions, and Reeve was tired of not getting an answer to any of them.

The latest report from the search had yielded nothing. All traces of Cloud had vanished approximately two weeks prior, roughly the same time Tifa had lost contact with him.

So Reeve had lied to Tifa about calling off the search, but Tifa deserved to know.

Just not yet. There were still too many variables, and Reeve was already ashamed enough that he couldn't help lighten the load for the poor girl. He needed something more conclusive before he went and added to Tifa's stress.

He just feared it wouldn't be for much longer, because, according to this report, Cloud had last been seen wandering the streets of Junon.

The muffled beating of a helicopter's blades reached his ears then, and it didn't take long before the shadow of a black chopper loomed into view, hovering disturbingly near the glass windows that they vibrated.

Speak of the devil.

As the helicopter started rising away from view, Reeve shook his head at the silhouette he could make out in the cockpit. Sliding the reports into his drawer, he left his office and took the elevator up to the roof.

By the time he and his men arrived at the helipad, the aircraft was already grounded, its rotors still spinning out powerful gusts that tousled the blond hair emerging from the passenger cabin and exposed how loosely fitted the thick layers were on the wearer.

Rufus Shinra descended from the platform, his most trusted Turk not more than a step away from him, all six feet of stone and cold steel.

"Rufus! Tseng!" he greeted, extending his hand to shake Rufus's ever cold one and nodding at Tseng. "I hope the flight wasn't too rough with the wind at this time of year?"

"Some turbulence, but my Turk made sure it was uneventful enough." Despite the calm demeanor and soft-spoken voice that was barely discernible over the noise of the helicopter, his grip was firm like any textbook businessman.

"The same one that nearly shattered my windows?" Reeve joked, though not quite lightheartedly, as they headed back inside.

"Reno could use some more prudence, I agree," Rufus nodded, but it didn't feel much like a response to Reeve's words as Reeve noticed the wire hooked in his ear and stretching down into his collar.

Once they were inside the conference room, Rufus wasted no time to start the meeting, but not before running a hand through his disheveled hair.

One had to admit what Rufus had accomplished at his age was no small feat. Every time Reeve gazed upon the shadow of the old Shin·Ra tower standing its grave that was Midgar, he was inclined to think Shin·Ra would remain a poltergeist of the past, malevolent but forever powerless to touch the world again.

After all, there hadn't been much movement from Shin·Ra even when its mark of ownership over Edge – the Meteor Monument – was blown asunder, and even when Deepground was discovered and its already nefarious reputation plummeted across the world.

Yet there it was, thriving and expanding in Junon, so silently, so unlike Shin·Ra, that Reeve only noticed when it had once again grown large enough to be a menace. Right this moment, Shin·Ra had already owned most of the corporations in Junon, if not through mergers then by intimidation.

Reeve's only solace was that, for now, they were working towards the same goal.

Still, things were complicated.

"Commissioner, while I don't deny WRO's contribution, I find it unacceptable you want to take control of the city, considering it was Shin·Ra that restored Junon from ruins."

Reeve held back a sigh and kept his shoulders from slumping. Territorial dispute was what this meeting really was about, and Rufus did not beat around the bush.

"Your worry is unneeded. We have no such intention." The man hated seeing his authority challenged, while Reeve just wanted to make sure Shin·Ra didn't gain any more influence. He wanted the power to be in the hands of the people.

"Hm, then might I advise you not to let your men spread their asinine propaganda in my town." Rufus's voice was light, an easygoing smile on him, but it was clear he was less than amused.

There had been no identifiable insinuation in his tone, but the demand for recognition of city ownership was vehemently implied. Reeve was under no illusion that Rufus rebuilt Junon merely out of the goodness in his heart—if he even had one. And, by Gaia, promoting democracy was 'asinine propaganda!' Reeve sensed it wasn't merely an insult, but that Rufus truly believed it was a foolish notion.

"Rufus, the WRO only wants to help the people of Junon." Reeve chose his reply with care.

"So does Shin-Ra." His smile widened by a fraction of an inch, and while it would have looked amiable on any other man, the smile only looked sinister on Rufus. "We want nothing but the best for Junon."

He didn't say 'people.' Did he even care about all the lives he had in his palms? Reeve had had high hopes when Rufus had proclaimed to want redemption, but it was soon obvious the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Though the last time Reeve even hinted the thought, Rufus had not been pleased.

"I will see what I can do," Reeve didn't disguise his sigh this time. "But keep in mind that despite my position, I hold no more power than the next member. They're volunteers, Rufus. They are free to express their ideals."

There was a chuckle that couldn't be anything other than mocking.

"My, my, I'm amazed WRO can function so well with such a system. That's certainly admirable. But I'm sure your words hold some weight regardless. We'd greatly appreciate any effort on your part to…revise your current policies in Junon. A gesture of good faith, if you will." Rufus set an elbow on the table and rested his chin against his thumb. "After all, Shin·Ra has respected your presence in Edge thus far. We only ask for the same from you."

Reeve felt something inside himself bristle. Rufus saw WRO as no different from Shin·Ra, and that was perhaps the most scathing aspersion that could be cast at Reeve.

WRO was his child, the first step to his dream of a fair world where everyone was treated equally, where people could live their lives in harmony, unencumbered, without war or disease. Most of all, a world where their voices mattered, and no dictatorship reigned over them with cruel, selfish oppression. A world without the likes of Shin·Ra.

Yet since WRO's founding, there had been Geostigma, then Deepground, and now here he was working with the one power whose name was synonymous with tyranny. He wasn't getting any closer to his goal, was he?

They were supposed to be of equal standings. WRO helped with Junon's development, and in turn, Shin·Ra provided all the energy WRO needed at a more than generous price. However, Shin·Ra was secretly funding WRO on the side – and Reeve used the word secret loosely because while Rufus never mentioned his anonymous donation, the man didn't go out of his way to cover up the money's track either. And with Rufus holding Edge over Reeve's head like it was a favor Shin·Ra was doing, WRO was at a severe disadvantage.

It pained Reeve as he brought himself to nod.

"Very well. WRO will refrain from taking a stance or making any official statements regarding Junon's politics."

Unofficial ones, however, were fair game. The fleeting crinkle of Rufus's eyes told Reeve that notion did not escape the younger man.

"I'm glad we could come to an understanding on this matter. Let's move on to the next topic of this meeting." Again, wasted no time.

"Yes, you wanted to propose a new project?" Reeve kept the apprehension out of his voice.

As he listened to Rufus, his migraine became a full blown headache. His fear was no longer unwarranted. Rufus intended to clear the ruins of Midgar and was asking WRO to facilitate Shin·Ra's operation. Just formalities, of course. Reeve knew Shin·Ra had enough resources to clear Midgar ten times over on its own.

What Rufus wanted was WRO's invitation to be in Edge, no doubt one step in his grand plan to reclaim his lost throne. And with WRO's name slapped next to Shin·Ra's, likelihood of sabotage would also decrease, just like in Junon.

They were being thoroughly used to further Rufus's cause.

"Now that Junon can function on its own, I believe there is no better time to start. Shin·Ra was vastly responsible for the devastation of Midgar. It's only right that we are the one to clean it up. However, considering our absence in Edge thus far, Shin·Ra might be ill-informed, and we don't want to step on any toes."

Reeve maintained a straight face, nodding, but all he wanted to do was scoff.

"Naturally, we don't expect WRO to be doing charity work for us." Rufus gestured for Tseng, who promptly place the briefcase he'd been holding before the President. A stapled contract was soon pushed towards Reeve.

"For the duration of the operation, Shin·Ra's services will be at no charge to you."

And there it was. The discussion was over, though admittedly there was never one in the first place. The young heir of Shin·Ra was too good at utilizing carrots and sticks.

Reeve knew refusing would hurt WRO's relations with Shin·Ra as well as leave room for some bad words to spread to the public. On the other hand, if he agreed to this deal, the money they would save on electricity could be used elsewhere, on people still living off the rubbles on the streets, on towns and villages still in ruins. There was no drawback—aside for the fact that Shin·Ra was going to be in Edge.

The meeting ended with them deciding on the starting date and estimated length of the project, as well as establishing what Shin·Ra could and couldn't do. There were disturbingly few of the latter, although considering the nature of the operation it made sense. Didn't mean Reeve had to like it.

To add salt to the injury, the pace of the entire meeting was set by Rufus from beginning to finish. And by the end, Reeve felt bruised and weary, like he was a ragdoll that Rufus had dragged around on a string.

"By the way, how is Cloud Strife?" Rufus asked when he stood to leave, and Reeve just knew the question wasn't as offhanded as the man had made it sound.

"Cloud? He left and hasn't been around for a while now. Why do you ask?"

"Indeed? I was just wondering about what the hero of Gaia was up to, but he can't seem to stay still, can he?" Rufus straightened his jacket as they started walking to the elevator. "He is keeping in touch though, I hope?" His eyes when their gazes met were splintered ice, sharp enough to cut, and most likely dissecting Reeve for information.

Ironically, Reeve was thankful he didn't have any information on Cloud for Rufus to extract.

"He's not." Reeve shook his head, the disappointment on his face didn't need to be forced.

"Hm, not even a single call home? How cold."

Says the man with ice for blood. "It's typical of Cloud, I'm afraid."

"Then, I suppose it's too much to hope he'll say hello to us, huh Tseng."

"I suppose so, President." The dark Turk spoke for the first time since he'd gotten here, though he made no attempt to match his master's playful attitude.

"Well, Reeve, I look forward to our cooperation." When they reached the windy roof, the sky was dark and the chopper was ready for take-off. Rufus's extended hand was immediately seized, still cold. "It's always reassuring to have the WRO's help."

If only he could say the same for Shin·Ra. Reeve gave a quick laugh. "Seems a storm is forming! Perhaps you'd want to delay your departure?"

"I thank your hospitality, but there is still work unfinished. I have complete trust that my Turks will get me back in one piece." Rufus paused, eyes drifting, before he smirked, most likely at whatever he was hearing from his earpiece.

"Good day, Commissioner."

And so, Reeve stood back and watched the two men disappear into the helicopter, and then the black helicopter that disappeared into the rolling grey clouds.

An ominous exit befitting Shin·Ra.

Walking back inside, Reeve pulled out his PHS and dialed a number.

No reply. Growing a little worried, he tried a different number and let go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding when the other side picked up.

"Hey…I'm sorry, were you sleeping?" he paused to hear her response, as well as collect his wit. He still needed more information, but Shin·Ra was clearly involved in this race. Tifa needed to be warned, though a little cherry-picking was probably in order.

"Can we meet? It's about Cloud."

Chapter Text

xxx xx, 0009
-Sephiroth

Weak. Crippled. Impotent.

The powerlessness that drugged his body was humiliating, pathetic. So unbearably mortal. If pride were like flesh, he would already be dead. But they wouldn't be rid of him so easily. They would never be rid of him. He would never be a memory. He was the supremacy. He was going to be their God.

Yet here he was, left licking his wounds like a common street animal. His mind howled for vengeance his aching limbs weren't capable of.

The waves of life came to lap at him, with whispers, with contempt and anger, and he vaporized them with ardent hot will. Filthy, plebeian existences unbefitting of his majesty.

He buried himself further in the fold of midnight downs and weaved a land of dark blizzard. A desolate realm of frozen streams and silenced souls, free of inferiority. His own dominion where his eyes could close awhile, just a moment, as his ambition brewed.

But blessed solitude ended too soon. They were coming, lively spring intruding dead winter, and summer heat melting away heavy snow.

November 6th, 0010
-Tifa

"Oh. Holy. Leviathan."

Amidst the rambunctiousness of her bar, Tifa could hear her younger friend's chirpy voice pronouncing each word with the theatrical value she too often resorted to when she wanted attention. It probably had to do with some random article in this week's issue of Edgy Style Tifa had given her.

"Uh…Tifa?"

Tifa felt bad for neglecting Yuffie even though the girl had come to visit after hearing the news, but right now she was more interested in finding out where her last bottle of Behemoth's Punch had gone to. One of her regulars was getting noisy about not having his order and she really didn't want to start throwing people out when the money had barely begun flowing in.

"Tifa!"

"Yes, Yuffie?" she asked, head still inside the wine cabinet beneath the counter, moving several bottles of Edonis and Firaga to the side. The moldy smell that sat deep within the pores of the cabinet's pressed wood was beginning to make her feel claustrophobic as she dug further inside. Where had she put it? She remembered having seen the bottle yesterday and making a mental note to restock on it. Had she misplaced it? Or perhaps that had been the day before because she also remembered pouring the vodka for someone's Sleep Dealer.

"Tifa! Tifa! Tifa!"

"One minute, Yuff!"

"Hey sweetheart! Is my Corel's Screw ready yet?"

Tifa groaned. She didn't know anymore. Ever since she came back from WRO's headquarters, she hadn't been all that adept at keeping track of things. And she'd found that it didn't bother her as much as it should. The Corel's Screw can go screw itself.

When Tifa had gone to see Reeve a few days prior about Cloud, she didn't know what to feel. And when she returned later that afternoon, she'd had a whole gamut of emotions to feel, none of them remotely positive.

As it turned out, Shin·Ra was looking for Cloud. That was why Cloud had disappeared.

She had felt hurt. Why hadn't Cloud contacted her? If he needed help, he knew she would gladly give it. Did he think her so useless, think so little of her despite all they'd been through together?

She had been sick with worry because Cloud might not even be able to call for help. It iced her soul with dread that Shin·Ra might already have him. And right now he could be lying on a cold dank floor, at the mercy of whoever held him captive.

And then she had felt guilty. To think that she had been wishing ill on his journey so that he may come back to her a little sooner, when all along she should've spent every second of the day praying for his safety. The poor man had been out there all by himself, hunted for some sick purpose.

Ultimately, she had been angry. Still was. She was angry at Reeve for having kept information from her and even daring to say Shin·Ra deserved the benefit of a doubt. She was angry at herself for thinking the worst of Cloud. And, oh, was she angry at Shin·Ra.

It was always Shin·Ra. The name that plagued her life with pain and misery. The name that struck both fear and revulsion into her heart the moment heard.

When Reeve had told her a year ago that Shin-Ra was doing good, Tifa had laughed, laughed so hard until she realized no one was laughing along with her. Not Cid, not Yuffie, and especially not Reeve, whose face had been gloom condensed. Reeve's distaste for Shin·Ra probably was second only to Tifa's, but in light of news about Shin·Ra's charitable endeavors in providing jobs and rebuilding the economy, it had been impossible to even suggest weeding them out.

Still, those monsters couldn't shake off their scales, now could they? They were finally baring their fangs again. How dare they come after Cloud? If it were up to her, their headquarters would already be up in flames and whatever insidious operation they had been concocting in there would never see the light of day. But alas, the world was still too needy to swat away a helping hand, no matter how bloodstained that hand was, and once again, Tifa was stuck pacing the premise of her home as she waited for Reeve to gather more information on Shin·Ra.

"Tifa!"

"What, Yuffie? What?" Tifa closed the cabinet and climbed back up to her feet, exasperated. Grabbing the wine glass she'd left on the counter and turning to her regular, she began, "I'm sorry, Keith, we're all out of—"

Yuffie reached over the counter and nabbed her by the cheeks, pivoting her head to the right. She frowned at Yuffie. "I'm a bit busy here, can't you—" Her voice died in her throat as her eyes followed Yuffie's frantic pointing at the far corner of the bar.

On the side, her regular gave her a dismissive grunt and asked her for another drink…probably. She hadn't heard anything past the grunt as numb shock crept through her mind.

Before she'd left WRO, Reeve had advised her to ignore Shin·Ra when they started tapping the pulse around her. She told him that was too much work. She didn't have any information on Cloud anyway and it would be quicker to just send the goons home with a few broken bones as warning. However, Reeve was adamant she would be doing nothing of the sorts because Shin·Ra could use that as a reason to come to Edge.

And he'd made her promise, so she'd reluctantly nodded.

And because Tifa always kept her promises, she told herself she would only kick the goons out as a barkeep, not because they were Shin·Ra.

It was her bar. Her home. Her territory. There was no way she would let Sh—suspicious individuals come around acting like they owned the place. So she kept tabs on any unfamiliar faces and listened in on her regulars in case they caught anything she hadn't.

She'd expected a spy, some well-fed lapdog parading around in slovenly clothes trying to pass as one of her people. She'd expected interrogation, a pack of Turks all donned up in tailored suits and pressed shirts, surrounding her and acting all haughty with Shin·Ra's backing. She'd even expected someone higher up, like Reno, the redhead had at one point been a regular.

What she hadn't expected was an immaculate, pristine white suit that didn't just stick out like a sore thumb in the dark corner of her bar, but also mocked everyone and everything in its presence.

Blue eyes and blond hair, but not the blue eyes and blond hair she had been waiting for, no.

Rufus Shinra.

The name that her brain matched to the face might as well have come with some incredibly vile odor because she couldn't help but scrunch her nose at it.

Tifa quickly fulfilled Keith's new order and made her way towards Rufus and his black-clad lackeys.

"Teef!" Yuffie stood in her way, apprehensive, arms flailing. Whatever glare that was on her face made the younger girl shrink back. "Uh, I think you should come at this, y'know, peacefully. We don't know anything for sure yet."

Yuffie of all people was telling her to calm down. Of course, Yuffie was of the WRO, who was in a partnership with Shin·Ra and afraid to offend.

Partnership! Tifa had kept her silence since it was none of her business, but, for the sake of all things holy, she'd been under the impression Reeve was working to keep Shin·Ra from taking over Junon, not working with them.

Yuffie threw a furtive glance over her shoulder at the corner table, and Tifa did the same, sans the furtiveness. Rufus had his back to the wall, Tseng and Rude sitting across from him. She could feel the tension emanating from the backs of the two Turks, but Rufus was ever so placid. They were talking still, discussing the papers in their hands, and not paying a single look in her direction.

Tifa felt a muscle on her face twitch and resumed her march, but Yuffie held her by the wrist.

"Remember how Reeve said we shouldn't give them more reasons to be here?" Yuffie said in a singsong tone you'd usually use with misbehaving little children.

Tifa snatched her hand back, partly offended. "A little late for that now," she muttered darkly. Rufus Shinra was here, and when had the Kraken ever surfaced before its tentacles? Shin·Ra was probably already squeezing the life out of a company or two in Edge.

"Aw no, Teef!"

It took her three steps to get to him. Even when she was this close, even when his Turks sprung from their seats and shielded him from her with wary looks, the infuriating man still didn't deem her worthy of his attention, eyes lingering on his blasted documents.

The Turks stepped up to her, two heads taller than her, the angle of their shoulders silently warning her of their devotion to guarding Rufus. Tifa wasn't intimidated. She glowered up at them with fists balled, ready to send them flying to gain access to their master.

The noisiness of the bar died down to murmurs and she could feel all eyes were on them. Tseng's hand was hovering cautiously near his lapel, while Rude's was in his pocket, no doubt gripping the handle of his baton.

"It's okay, Tseng, Rude. Stand down."

The Turks gave her a once-over, then lowered their hands away from their weapons, stepping aside.

Rufus remained seated as he smiled, nay, smirked at her. It was the same smirk that had been plastered over his face as he'd sentenced her to death with the offhandedness of a man tossing away an uninteresting book.

Setting down the papers, he asked, "How may I help you, Miss Lockhart?"

His voice could have greased an engine for days, and the syllables that formed in her mouth tasted like acid before she spat, "What do you want?"

He quirked a brow before nodding. Tapping his disgustingly manicured fingers on top of the table, he appeared thoughtful as his gaze swept over something to his left.

Before she could wonder about it, he replied, "Some whiskey," pointing at the shelves behind the counter, eyes glinting with what could only amusement.

She nearly acted upon the urge to bash his blond head in, but considering the assault charge she just knew it would land her, Tifa stayed her hands. "Do not test me, Shinra! We both know you're here for something else, and you'll get it over my dead body!"

Her shout came out incredibly loud, and she realized her bar was now dead quiet. She could imagine how she must look to her customers. Nose flared, teeth gritted, and cheeks flushed with the rage she was trying to keep in check.

Tifa Lockhart, bartender of Seventh Heaven, the woman who kept her composure in the face of the most erratic of drunks, had a temper? Who knew? Tifa hadn't known either. She hadn't even realized how much she hated this man until this moment. Just where did he get the nerve to think that he was in any way welcomed in her bar? Even without being responsible for Cloud's disappearance, she would still have thrown him out just for being the arrogant and pretentious bastard that he was.

"I apologize." It was almost amazing how so few words could contain as much mockery as it did civility. "I'll tell the truth now. I was eyeing the gin, though, I didn't realize you were so protective over your liquor stock."

"Tifa!" Yuffie shouted, but Tifa gave her no heed.

The wood of the table in front of Rufus caved from the clenched fist that was slammed down, crushing the paperwork lying between his hands. Tifa was halfway over the table, short of pouncing Rufus. To her right, Yuffie had her shuriken out, and Rude grunted. A sharp tip of the shuriken was pressing at his exposed neck, preventing him from tackling Tifa. To her left, however, Tseng had already put distance between them, gun pointed at Tifa's head.

"Miss Lockhart, please step away from the President," requested the Wutain Turk.

"By the Gods, peeps, everybody needs to chill!"

Her sole attention was on Rufus, the cool blue gaze that challenged her red hot one. He hadn't even flinched. Oh, he fancied himself untouchable, didn't he?

"Where is Cloud?" she demanded.

There was at best a split moment delay before his features rearranged themselves, pale eyebrows rising away from his eyes to produce a surprised look so genuine that it just had to be fake. "Pardon? Is Cloud not your errant lover, Miss Lockhart? I imagine you'd know the answer to that question better than I," he paused, leaning in closer. "Or is there a reason that has convinced you otherwise?" He was too close for comfort, his gaze cutting into her. The breath that brushed her cheeks was warm, but it caused goose bumps down the length of her arms like a spray of Northern Crater's wind.

They were breathing the same air, and as much as the notion nauseated her, Tifa refused to back away now and let Rufus think she was in any way afraid.

It occurred to her that this wasn't the first time. He'd also hovered like this, though just for a moment, on the balcony of the old Shin·Ra tower, when he'd told AVALANCHE he wanted to rule the world with fear.

And it sickened her that he might just have what it took to make truth of his ambition.

Something. There was something about him that was so disconcerting. Not like Sephiroth. Sephiroth was menacing because he was downright dangerous. Rufus, however, wasn't threatening in the least, yet his presence instilled a muted anxiety that she was helpless to fend off. Even now she could feel it nag at her from behind, unable to pinpoint where the anxiety was coming from as it seeped into her heart slowly but surely.

Maybe it was the way he was a shade too pale to be healthy. If he were unconscious, she would delightfully think he was a fresh corpse.

Maybe it was his eyes. They didn't glow from mako, didn't bear any ominous coloration. Just a normal pair of blue irises, yet somehow they chilled her to the core.

Maybe it was that he dared challenge fighters like her despite being the frail man that he was. He puffed himself up with all those layers but he really wasn't fooling anyone.

That he dared sit here so self-assuredly with only two Turks protecting him, one of which was being held down by her friend while the other was using a gun inside a cramped space, made her wonder if he had something up his sleeve. She knew he hid that shotgun near his chest. She knew she could deliver him to his equally deplorable maker before the weapon even left his pretty suit, but just maybe…

It was the age-old pen versus sword philosophy. For all the wood and brick she could shatter, the invisible strings Rufus had wrapped around his fingers could be pulled as he pleased to tear down mountains. Worst of all, he would not hesitate to pull them. Before, Tifa probably wouldn't have been all that concerned about authority and ramifications, but it was different now. Her life was different. Gone was the time when she could just disregard the consequences and follow whatever her heart said. She was a law-abiding citizen now. She had a family. She wasn't just responsible for herself, but also the two children sleeping above her bar, and a thoughtless action against a figure like Shin·Ra could destroy everything she had and even implicate those she cared about.

Though, the lifestream would dry up before she allowed Rufus the satisfaction of knowing she was, Gaia forbid, scared.

Then she saw it. The slightest shift in his expression, from a cold conniving look to one with an added touch of malicious amusement. That smirk on his face, in his eyes, mocking her, ridiculing her for her cluelessness. Gaia, he knew. Rufus knew where Cloud was.

"You—"

"Miss Lockhart, step away."

She glared up at Tseng's impassive manner over her shoulder, muscles tensed, thoughts racing in her head. They knew. They knew. Where was Cloud? What had happened to him? What had they done to him? Consequences be damned. She would kill all of them and get the answer out of Rufus's dying breaths if she had to—

Tifa was yanked away from Rufus by a slender pair of arms that had locked themselves underneath Tifa's. "Tifa, come on, girl." Yuffie was pulling Tifa back with little success, but it was hindering Tifa's movement enough that she couldn't obey several impulses that were less than benevolent.

"Let go, Yuffie!" She struggled but knew there was no breaking free without hurting Yuffie. She wasn't out of her mind enough for that. Not yet anyway. A dislocated shoulder healed—Oh Gaia, what was she thinking? "Let go! Whose side are you on? It's because of him that Cloud's missing!" Her eyes returned to the man in white, hating him so much, wishing that mere glares could kill. "If he's dead then Cloud can come back!"

"Miss Lockhart. This is your last warning."

"Tseng, you really don't need to worry. I'm already—holding her back," cried Yuffie as she wrestled with Tifa. "Ugh, see?"

The way Tseng's hand clutched his gun betrayed his nervousness, and Rude had taken out his baton in a defensive stance, putting himself between Tifa and Rufus now that Yuffie was no longer keeping him at bay.

In complete contrast with his Turks, there was no turmoil to Rufus's demeanor. With the unhurried air of someone lounging in his own home, he leant back in his seat and crossed his legs. "Will he, now? Miss Lockhart, I was informed your Cloud left you and your children rather voluntarily."

"Rufus!" It was Tseng that shouted in admonishment, his finger still taut on the trigger.

Tifa felt Yuffie's arms tighten around her, anticipating an outburst. Tifa anticipated it, too, and against her better judgment she was ready to indulge it, to pulverize Rufus Shinra and do the Planet a favor—was what she'd like to say; but that was just a bonus. She simply wanted to wipe that conceited smirk from his face.

The outburst never came. All the raging heat that had swirled inside her chest now collected around her eyes and that familiar prickling were growing more apparent. All alarms inside her were blaring. Not now, not in front of all these people. Gaia, not in front of Rufus Shinra.

His words had bitten harder than they should have, and she hated him so much. Him. His stone cold Turks. Yuffie for stopping her when she still had the strength to aggress. Reeve who'd probably sent Yuffie like she couldn't take care of herself. Cloud for leaving her. And herself for being herself.

"Teef?"

Tifa shook off Yuffie's slackened hold and turned away, blinking at the blurriness in her vision. Her head was spinning from all the blood that was rushing to it, and she felt like choking on her own rapid breathing.

Rufus Shinra. He walked into her bar and the first words out of his mouth had been lies. She'd expected no less, for he was a filthy, shameless liar.

That was why hearing it from him was so staggering. The truth. The bitter truth that she still wouldn't have Cloud even if Shin·Ra didn't exist.

She breathed a shuddering breath, acutely aware of her hot cheeks. She was better than this. Push it down. Lock it up.

"Rufus! Tell him to put away the gun, would ya? He's scaring people." Tifa could just hear the akimbo stance from Yuffie's voice.

That irritating chuckle. "We're the only ones here Miss Kisaragi."

"Gee, I wonder whose fault that is! Are you gonna tell him or do I have to use my crazy ninja skills?"

"But of course. Tseng?"

The safety lock clicked.

Tifa glanced around and acknowledged with a defeated sigh that her bar was completely empty save for herself, Yuffie, and the trio of unwanted guests. She wasn't surprised. The moment Tseng had brought out the gun, she already knew her business had gone to the dogs. Her shoulders slumped, she turned back to Rufus and renewed her glare at him.

"Leave," she grated with all the anger she could still muster.

"My, are you sure you don't want to get me the gin? I seem to be your last customer tonight."

Her jaw was wired shut as she pronounced, "Leave." She felt Yuffie sidling up to her, hugging her arm as though in case she decided on murdering Rufus. Imagine that. She was perceived as a loose cannon by Yuffie Kisaragi.

"Pardon us, Miss Lockhart," Tseng said as he and Rude gathered at Rufus's side. "It is not our intention to jeopardize your business. We will compensate your profit for the night."

Rufus threw a fleeting frown at Tseng but nodded. "Yes, as my Turk has said, I'm more than happy to do that."

"I do not want your money. Leave before I make you," she hissed.

"Hm, all right." He almost looked disappointed.

"You have no—" She blinked, feeling like she had just lost her balance. "What?"

"Eh?" Yuffie squirmed next to her, most likely as shocked as she was.

"I don't believe I've said anything puzzling, have I? I shall leave for the night as per your request." Rufus smirked, getting up from the table as Rude tidied up their wrinkled paperwork and put everything into a brown folder. When the Turk was done, Rufus nodded at him. It was a cue for Rude to go on ahead, as the Turk promptly bid her a wordless farewell and left. Then Rufus pulled out his wallet.

"I already told you—"

"Miss Lockhart," his voice brooked no argument as he set down a thick wad of gil on the table, "I insist." A smile was playing on his lips. "This should also cover the cost of replacing the table."

Before she could oppose, Rufus was already out of the door, Tseng closely behind him.

And then there was silence.

"Man, what the heck was that!?" Yuffie had put away her shuriken and started stomping her feet, "The most pointless browbeating, that's what!"

Tifa just watched the empty doorframe, waiting for…what – she wasn't quite sure, until the sound of a car engine rumbling to life reached her ears and she finally relaxed her shoulders.

With all the vigor of a sloth, she pulled out a chair to slump onto. The sizzle of adrenaline in her blood was dying down, leaving her drained and lethargic. Tifa could have trained a wild chocobo without greens and still walk away with more energy.

"You don't think he came just to mess with us, do ya? Is he really that free? And he has the gall to act sooo busy whenever WRO visits!"

She shook her head. "I don't know, Yuffie." This was about Cloud, right? But it made no sense that the President himself would deign to go gather information in her dingy little bar. With the pay rate Reeve said they'd been offering to attract employees, she doubted it was personnel Shin·Ra was lacking. Was Rufus just that desperate for Cloud?

Whatever that he'd come for, she hoped she hadn't given it to him.

"Hopefully this is the last I ever see of his mug." Send her spies, Turks, what-has-he. She'd gladly take them all over Rufus Shinra.

"You know, he said 'for the night.'"

Tifa looked up at Yuffie, who had a hand on her hip. "…What?"

"Rufus said he would leave for the night."

No.

"Teef, I'm pretty sure he'll be back."