All I Want for Christmas
Disclaimer: I don't own the song that named this fic, nor do I own FFVII. I do own Dina and the residents, and trust me, that job will come into play very, very soon.
Warnings: A few moments of squick, though they will be brief. This story doesn't have a plot, per se, more of a gradual biography of a world in the grip of a terrible economic, cultural, and societal collapse and a people driven to do nearly anything to get a little of what they had back. There is no World Wide Network; there is no television. Independent business die by the dozens, and even larger corporations are heading straight for the dump. The wealthy are persecuted by the poor, and the poor are battered by the terrible weather.
There is no happy ending for a place like this, at least not for many, many years. Think about it; the largest power supply on the planet is inaccessable, while the ones responsible are either dead with the innocent or pulling strings behind the corporations in safety. Banks have failed, because people tried to withdraw all their savings, and jobs failed because there are too many people to work. The ones who do have jobs rarely have the gil to spend, because rent is so high that it's actually cheaper to buy a house. This is not a pleasant future, but it's a necessary one.
And that is what I plan to write. Correlations between the Dust Bowl and our current falls are, of course, going into this, as well as the famines, disease, and drought that plague our worldly neighbors. And perhaps, in writing this, we can make a tiny difference or two, here and there. I will also be heavily referencing some green energy and green recycling literature, since that is a large part of the WRO's mission as well...but there will be Christmas joy XD. I'm not going to keep our lovely couples away from one another! Obviously, VinTi is the main one; feel free to pair up the others (though I am keeping Cid and Shera married for the time being). Let me know what you think!
Tifa sighed a little and rested her head on top of her hands, eyes closing against the harsh lamplight. Two years ago, she would have been staring out over a gorgeous panorama, courtesy of the Sierra's observation deck. Two years ago, she would have had her bar, Marlene and Denzel, and the occasional visits from all of her friends, though Vincent and Yuffie had made it their unofficial mission to visit most. They would come as a pair, Vincent picking her up in the sleek sedan from the local train station and driving them both to Seventh Heaven, where he'd park the car in the garage.
They would alternate spending time with her and with the kids, though often, during the warmer weather, they would all drive out to the soft grasslands and let both children fly kites and picnic, while the three adults indulged themselves in naps and much needed venting. She smiled, very slightly; occassionally Cloud had joined them, when he wasn't running messages and packages in between the WRO and what remained of the Turks. He seemed more at peace now, and Tifa felt thankful that she'd decided, not long before they'd left to defeat Sephiroth, that what she'd been feeling for so many years was a sisterly love, not a romantic one.
Besides, he'd lost a good portion of his empathy when he'd lost the memories of Zack, and when they had lost Aeris. She was grateful to Vincent for that; he'd kept her away from the older woman's body long enough for Cloud and Cid to clean her up. Those were sweet days...until the next great emergancy happened. The only problem was that this time, AVALANCHE, Shin-Ra, and the WRO didn't stand a chance. The economy, fueled for so long by the mako reactors and their cheap power, failed utterly.
Literally millions of people were out of work, and the few who did manage to save their hides were teetering on the brink, terrified to fall. Seventh Heaven had been no different; in a matter of months, Tifa had been foreclosed, because when people couldn't afford to eat, only the truly drunk would spend their money on alcohol, and not on glasses, but on bottles. She had been lucky, or so she told herself; Cid's dreams were completely grounded, though he was working hard to figure out an alternative energy plan with Reeve that did not rely on either fossil fuels or mako.
She was lucky...She lifted her head to stare at the calendar, and wondered idly how long she could do sixteen hour shifts. She was two months in without a day off, and her physical and emotional wellbeing were decidedly worse for the wear. She was twenty-six years old, and she moved like a sixty-year-old. Tifa had lost a great deal of weight, but that wasn't so surprising; she made do with a few slices of bread and a cup of tea, and whatever the gentlemen she cared for had left over at the end of the night.
She worked for a small outbranch of Healin Spa that dealt with the elderly populations swiftly rising. A large portion of her generation, and those just before her, had died out in the Wutai War and from the various attacks on Shin-Ra and the planet respectively, leaving a multitude of orphans, and a terrible dearth of older folks. Most still worked; they had no choice, and it had been terrible to see the exodus out of Edge, Kalm, and Rocket Town to places such as Cosmo Canyon and Gongaga. Junon's folk had created a multitude of small farming villages now that most of the machinery that had created the town was defunct from the lack of power. Costa was utterly deserted, save for the fisherfolk. And she, like all the others, had gone searching for a way to put food in her mouth, and those of the children.
Had it not been for Marlene and Denzel, she would have done what Vincent, Yuffie, and the Turks had taken up, and become a monster mercenary. Barret was putting all of his mining and excavation expertise to work in Gongaga, salvaging as much of the damaged reactor as physically possible. On that continent, they'd managed to set up a decent bartering system; Wutai, used to all of this and still largely out of the main global economy, as well as Mideel and Icicle Inn, were doing the same thing, and Reeve had managed to organize everyone into the same system, creating a new, tentative economy in the old one's place. However, here it was not so easy. Tifa rolled her neck back, wincing as it popped badly, and set to rubbing the sore joints, forcing calm and peace on herself. Gods, she missed them...
Yuffie, Elena and Reno would have been falling all over themselves to cheer everyone up, while Rude cooked, Tseng helped with paperwork, and Vincent...Vincent would have been allowing her the freedom to lean on someone else for a change, allow her to cry, to cuddle into a warm chest. There was nothing awkward about the way he did these things; he simply held out his arms, and she couldn't help but run into them. She had suspected, for a while now, that the man felt something other than mere friendship; there was a deeper emotion in those eyes when he spoke to her, and a warmer inflection that made her body relax in a way that definitely wasn't a simple friendly remark. And truthfully, she felt the same; he was handsome, blindingly intelligent, sweet as an apple pie, and honorable to a fault.
Even though he was far away, just thinking about him made her smile wider, and she brushed her hair out of her face, taking a long, deep breath. He always teased her, albeit very gently, about her 'worrywort syndrome', and how it so often made her the brunt of everyone's problems...but his smile always comforted her. He, alone of everyone she knew, aside from her beloved master, had never once dropped his worries on her head. He had flatly refused, say that she had enough to deal with, and that he was more than old enough to work out a solution on his own. And if he truly couldn't, then he would ask her advice...but he would not beg her to take over.
"You've had to do that enough..." Had been his soft voice, and reluctantly, she had to agree. She was already worn out by all the worrying, all the problems...she couldn't deal with four demons, a murder, and possible parentage of the greatest warrior and madman the world had ever known. She hissed as she pinched a nerve, but leaned back, one hand still working it out. Two more hours, then she'd lose herself in a bed warmed by two youngsters and a few carefully placed heated bricks. Denzel still felt a little uncomfortable, but with winter coming on, even he had to agree that it was either share a bed, or freeze. Tifa couldn't afford to keep the heater on for more than half the night; she always fired it up when she got home, since she usually left by eleven. She hated that fact...but at least Vincent had been sending some gil. That had helped; Marlene's illness had gone away, and Denzel was finally hitting a proper growth spurt.
"I'm a terrible mother..." She muttered, pulling the large book of daily logs across the desk and beginning the long task of noting what had been happening all day long. She sniffed slightly, wishing that her sweaters were just a little thicker; the caretaker's office was always cold, since it faced the north and had the barest of sealing around the windows. There was a cloak lying across the straw-tick bed in the corner; she debated for a moment, then got up carefully, for her feet were half-frozen, and went over to swathe herself in it's thick folds.
It had been a gift from Vincent last Christmas, before he'd gone out with the others, and she relished its fleecy inside, and oiled wool out. Each of the children had gotten one as well, several times larger, so that they could comfortably grow into the garments without worrying about them being too short or too small. She pulled it close, smirking a bit. Her's was the same crimson as his own former cloak, while Denzel's was blue, and Marlene's a cute brown with little pink chocobos on the right chest, and after the hugs and kisses from both girls, he'd sheepishly told them about the bet he'd won off of Yuffie that had earned him enough cold weather gear for himself and them. She still smiled at the thought of how much he had agonized over them...
The end of her shift passed in quiet contemplation and a great many notes, her hand cramping when she heard the sound of the back door opening and familiar footsteps. Dina wasn't too fond of Tifa, and Tifa didn't care much for Dina, but both women had openly acknowledged their respect for one another, and Tifa smiled slightly, lifting her hand in a wave as she closed the book. The older women shared the same rueful smile, and as Tifa clocked herself out, she set her purse down and began to unravel herself from her clothing.
"Good evening, Tifa."
"Evening, Dina. Everyone's quiet tonight; Bruin had a few anger problems when Dori changed his radio station to the evening news, but other than that, no issues."
"Thank the goddess. So, what are your plans for tomorrow?" Tifa cocked her head to the side and must have looked confused, because Dina blinked, surprised. "Didn't they tell you?"
"I don't know. I was supposed to be coming into work, right?"
"Girl, you have the next week off!" Fear, rather than elation, flooded her veins, and she must have looked stricken as well, because the older woman hastened to clarify. "You aren't being let go, dear; a few friends of yours apparently called in and asked when your next day off was, and after being told what you were scheduled, they evidently took it to a higher authority. The next thing I know, we're all being shuttled around..." Tifa felt horrible, and she immediately began to speak.
"Oh, goddess, no, I'll be in tomorrow...!" At that, the woman chuckled, surprising her.
"Dear, you've been two months without a break. You need to go home and rest...and put some meat back on those bones. You're as thin as a rail, and your little ones won't thank you for it later on. Now go; I believe there's a ride outside for you." Utterly dumbfounded, Tifa felt herself be guided to the door, handed her bag, and let out, blinking as she heard the lock click behind her. Glancing around, she caught sight of a very familiar truck, and felt a smile stretch her face as she thought she dimly recognized the particular bobbing red glow from inside the cab. As she jogged lightly over, a tall, sturdy man stepped out of the vehicle, and she caught sight of graying blond hair and those familiar goggles, a pack tucked in the headband. Cid looked thinner, older, and a little sadder...but that didn't stop him from picking her up in a hug the moment she was in range and planting a firm, fatherly kiss on her forehead.
"Young lady, y' jus' abou' scared us half t' death! Git in th' truck and let's git y' fed." She couldn't stop smiling, and shook her head, laughing a little, though she shivered against the cold. There wasn't any snow yet, but by the bite in the air, it wasn't far off. She smiled lightly at the thought of Marlene and Denzel going wild in the white fluff, and settled herself on the torn, duct-taped seats before closing the door.
"Cid, I'm fine, there's food at home..."
"Tha' wha' I'm talkin' abou'! Vincent's cookin' up a storm, an' yer gonna eat!" She laughed out loud at that, and smirked a little as he glared at her. "Wha's so funny?"
"Cid, you know I wouldn't pass up Vincent's cooking! Besides, I'm only this thin because we don't have a lot of money." Her claret eyes sobered, and Tifa made a point of catching his eye briefly. "I mean it. The kids get the most of the food; I get two square meals at work, plus leftovers." He huffed, and sighed, but didn't press the issue. They rode the whole way in a companiable silence, Tifa half-asleep and Cid pensieve. Eventually, though, they made it home, and she stumbled up the stairs to her small apartment with his help, raising her keys to open the door, when it swung inward, a rush of warm air carrying the smell of a variety of tasty things flowing over them both as a dark-clad figure stood over them both. Tifa managed a hazy smile up at Vincent before she fainted dead away, her senses overwhelmed completely...
Woof. That's the longest I've written in one setting in months. Social commentary for the win!
