A/N: This fic is experimental for me in many ways. It's different, but in many ways in character. I'm ignoring canon timelines. A couple of things to clarify: There is no President Shinra in this (yet anyway). It's just Mr. Shinra for now, and I've given first names to him and his wife. (I am trying to keep names intact, to if anyone knows their first names, let me know and I'll change it, but I couldn't find them.) Tseng is still head of the Turks, but he's younger here, I think, than in canon. I've made him closer in age to Reno. And obviously, Elena isn't a Turk at the beginning of this.

Warnings: Not for this chapter. Rating is for future chapters, which will include, among other things, mature/adult content, erotic content, violence, and general strangeness.

I neither own nor profit from ffvii or its characters.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

I

Was she supposed to be there? She had no idea. She didn't think so, but Elena had said something about an event rehearsal in a way that made her think she might have forgotten something important.

She simply couldn't remember what.

Racing through her morning routine, Tifa threw on the first clothes she found in her closet, which turned out to be a very simple pair of black slacks and a fitted, button down black and white striped shirt. Catching sight of herself the mirror as she raced out of her room, she figured it was at least elegant in its simplicity.

There was no way she was taking her bike out in this traffic, but getting to the performance center wasn't a problem with the shuttles that ran across town. The problem was getting across the lot, cursing her high heels as she ran, and through the performance center and back stage, where she hoped she wouldn't be too late for whatever Elena had been reminding her about.

Too late. Elena was already on stage assisting one of the performance groups as they set up for their act. Tifa circled around the stage, just managing to avoid getting trampled by what was apparently another act, and found a woman standing on a small portable staircase overlooking the stage. She looked as in charge as anyone, so Tifa approached.

"Excuse me. I'm Tifa Lockhart. I was wondering about the schedule for this morning. Are there many acts left for the dress rehearsal?"

The woman glanced down at her. Oh, yeah, she was in charge. It was written all over her strict, drawn face, which was plastered with what. Tifa was positive, was expensive designer make-up.

"All of our acts are accounted for. This is the last we need to prepare for. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to…"

"Mrs. Shinra, you have a phone call." A young girl scampered forward, cell phone extended.

The woman heaved a sigh. "I really don't have time for this." Yet she took the phone.

"Constance Shinra speaking." She listened for a moment, holding one bejeweled hand over the receiver as she muttered a curse under her breath. Finally she took her hand away, and spoke forcefully into the receiver.

"I'll send the information right over."

Flipping the phone closed, she glanced back at her assistant, who looked like a mouse caught in a trap.

"I need someone to deliver something upstairs immediately." The girl took a step back. "You do realize," Mrs. Shinra huffed, "that you are totally useless. I don't know why I keep you around. Find someone. NOW."

Tifa was feeling sorry for the young girl, and there was no need for this hostile treatment; not if it was just about getting something from point A to point B.

"I can do it," she volunteered.

Mrs. Shinra looked down at her from her perch, clearly perplexed.

"Excuse me?"

"If it's just delivering something, I can take care of it for you. I'm here. I might as well make myself useful."

"What's your name, young lady?" Apparently she hadn't been paying attention the first time.

"Tifa. Tifa Lockhart."

The woman stared down her nose at tifa, considering, her cheeks drawn tight, her posture rigid, then gave one distinct, decisive nod. Mousy-girl disappeared for a moment and came back with paper and a pen, handing it to Mrs. Shinra, who wrote quickly and efficiently and folded the paper twice and handed it to Tifa.

"I need you to deliver this to Mr. Shinra. He should be in one of the upper suites. He has many guests attending. You'll have to find him. You need to be as quick as possible, and you are not to look at the content. Will that be a problem?"

"No, no problem at all," Tifa promised as she accepted the folded paper. Heading across the back stage area, she heard Mrs. Shinra call after her.

"If you can handle this task, Miss. Lockhart, there may be a job for you if you're interested."

She nodded back, smiling, excited. She needed something better than her current planning/catering/waitressing-on-the-side-when-things-got-rough job, and any offer was worth looking into.

Tifa's path was clear until she hit the top floor, which was a mess of people, some of which were hurrying here and there, obviously working, and others simply milling around, guests by the look of them. Tifa suspected, as she took in her surroundings that there wasn't a suit on the floor that wasn't designer of some kind.

She chose the busiest suite first. More people made it more like she would find Mr. Shinra, or that someone might be able to point her in the right direction. As she approached, a man in a dark suit cut her off.

"Can I help you?"

His appearance had deceived her; he was young, practically too young, and extremely handsome, his features lean and sharp, his eyes dark and intense, and all framed by a curtain of jet hair, which disappeared from view past his shoulders. But on second look, she had no doubt he was security of some type. It was in his posture, in the set of his features, in the hard, intense focus of his dark eyes. Newly aware, Tifa took another look around, and found other men spaced out in the crowd who appeared similarly, and knew that though others might not notice it, there was security everywhere.

"I'm looking for Mr. Shinra. I have a message for him." She held up the note, but when he reached out to take it from her, she withdrew it quickly, and put it in her pocket, holding it securely there.

"I'm supposed to deliver it to him personally."

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she caught the quick glance over her shoulder. Instinctively, she knew he was making contact with another member of security, but she didn't dare look, bracing herself instead, in the event that whoever it was might be approaching from behind.

The man in front of her turned and gestured for her to follow.

"He's in the Platinum Suite. If you'll follow me." He was walking away, and Tifa took a second to turn back to see who he might have been looking at. There was no one near her, or looking in her direction, but she immediately picked out the man it must have been. All she could see of him was long, straight red hair falling down his back, and as he turned his head slightly, she saw that one side was shaved partially off. He turned just enough to glance back at her, and she caught the twinkle in his bright green eyes and the hint of a smile before he turned away.

She turned quickly back to the task at hand. Her security guard was waiting for her, his face completely blank, but he didn't say anything, simply preceding her down the hall and into another suite where he led her to a large, older man in a gray pinstriped suit that she probably couldn't afford with her entire years salary.

"Mr. Shinra," the guard said, "This woman says she has a message for you."

Mr. Shinra turned the full weight of his gaze on Tifa, and she held out the note she had been entrusted with. He took the paper, opening it, eyes still on her, and then flicking to read the note, and then back on her.

"Did you read this?"

"No, sir."

He weighed the honesty of her response and then nodded his head, a gesture that was remarkably to his wife's.

"Please wait here a moment."

He held a hand out and a pen appeared in his palm as if by magic. In fact, he owed it to the security guard who had led her into the room, who then turned so Mr. Shinra could use the flat plane of his back to write a response. Finished writing, he folded the paper back over and passed it to Tifa.

"Please return this to Constance. I expect discrepancy and speed."

The young security guard looked as if he might protest, but kept whatever he was thinking to himself. Mr. Shinra smiled, amused at his expression.

"Don't worry, Tseng. I'm sure Ms…?" He referenced her, waiting for her to provide the answer.

"Lockhart. Tifa."

"Ms. Lockhart Tifa is more than capable of this errand."

Tseng, whom at least had a name now, bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement, and stepped back to allow Tifa to leave.

As she walked out, she noticed the man with red hair again, along with a couple of other men she was sure were security, and it was clear their task at the moment was to keep an eye on her. A jacket fell open on Red, and there was a flash of metal from within, and Tifa couldn't tell if it had been coincidental or if he had done it on purpose, and there was nothing in his casual, nonchalant expression that gave it away.

They were dangerous. That much was perfectly clear, in the way they moved, in the way they watched her, in their demeanor, even when they were standing still.

Tifa refused to let the knowledge show. She refused to cower to them. Back straight, her focus completely on her responsibility, Tifa quickly, yet not too quickly, exited the room, surprised when they neither stopped nor followed her.

Mrs. Shinra seemed surprised to see her, and even more so when Tifa handed her the note with a completely calm expression on her face.

"Any trouble?" she asked as Tifa approached.

"Not at all." She passed the note. "Mr. Shinra asked me to deliver this."

Mrs. Shinra studied Tifa skeptically as she accepted the response.

"You didn't have any trouble with the Turks?"

"Turks? What are Turks?"

Little assistant girl in the corner gasped and covered her mouth, a look of sheer disbelief across her face.

"They're my husband's security. They've been known to give my girls a…difficult time." She spared a glance for the now quivering form of her assistant, whose disbelief had turned to horror. She was nodding frantically.

"It makes it very difficult to hold on to people," Mrs. Shinra finished. She read the paper with a careless attitude, nodded once, and folded it up, passing it off to her assistant as she eyed Tifa once more.

"You're hired. I will be in touch."