AN: I wrote this some time ago, been going back and forth on whether to post it here. Mostly the fault of Darknightdestiny and Tijuana Pirate, who seem to have adopted my favorite Turk and share my love of the wonderful Tifa Lockheart. If you're not into May/December then this story isn't for you. I imagine this being sometime after Advent Children, and I'll pretend Dirge of Cereberus didn't happen. XD I'm kind of fond of this story, because it's not angsty or dramatic, really.

There were a great many things learned in old age. Like how to run a damned cash register.

Veld had gotten a job. Not a passing the time and waiting to die kind like Shinra was sometimes, but an actual job where he had to put life and effort into it. And it was almost good.

It wasn't really hard to run a shop, so long as he kept a meticulous inventory. Part of him would always be in the past, but at least this past kept his future going. Namely, antiques, which afforded him meetings with some strange and varied people, who didn't turn out to be very different from himself.

In a way, it was kind of comforting to know that he wasn't the only one that wasn't entirely comfortable with all the newness, with all the change and hustle and brightness. It was uncomfortably bright.

Maybe it was because she wore black that she caught his eye.

"Can I help you?"

Dark. Dark hair, dark eyes, and had obviously been outside in the unforgiving sun for a while. The skies had cleared and even if his skin could handle it, he preferred not to be out in it. He imagined her complexion would look like porcelain if she stayed indoors more, but porcelain never did look very human.

Her face was very honest. "I was just browsing."

"Feel free, just watch it around that record player, you bump it and it might fall apart."

"You don't seem to have much confidence in what you're selling."

"Well, it's all junk anyway."

That was the first time he'd ever talked to Tifa Lockheart directly. It was that curious sort of smile that gave away who she was, as he almost didn't recognize her. One of those kids, whom he'd done a bit of research on. For slightly professional and mostly personal reasons.

She'd cut her hair, that was it. And covered up her midriff. She looked very different like this, with a black dress on like she had just gone to a funeral.

He didn't want to think about funerals.

"Actually, I'm here to sell some junk. You do all the dealing around here, right?"

"I thought about hiring a couple of young assistants to run around and do all the dirty work, but those types are in high demand these days."

He couldn't read her as well as some people, but she at least she appreciated his sense of humor.

"Just some girlish things... you know, you get older and you don't need to hold on to them."

"No, I wouldn't know much about girlish things." He got her to actually laugh with that one. His kids wouldn't recognize him like this, talking with a pretty young woman and making her laugh.

"I know it won't be worth much..."

Worth wasn't always counted in gil and he could tell by the careful manner in which she handled it. Back in his time they were called memory chests, and he could understand why she was here now.

And why in the world she would be within walking distance of a beach and wearing black.

"Is there a price you were looking for?"

"Twenty gil?"

"Sold."

ooo

His name was Veld.

She visited twice to figure that out. He was clever enough to steer the conversations away from himself and she found it intriguing. He didn't mind talking about how business was going or some colorful character he had meant, and he was always friendly. But Tifa knew a lot about friendly people and taciturn people just the same.

It was a form of professionalism.

She'd seen it with a lot of people in his generation. Cid was on the clinging edge of that, and even if he was loud, the professionalism lay in the perfect shine of his vehicles and the detailed descriptions. Vincent had acted like that when he wasn't pretending he was the boogeyman.

Out of the two, she'd gotten to know Cid quite well. Vincent sort of disappeared off the face of the planet. She had to wonder what happened to him.

"So you paid how much for this thing?"

"An embarrassing sum.

She wasn't doing anything here, business wise. All personal. Tifa realized working and hoping wouldn't do anything. So she was giving herself some time. Shera had loaned her the money; that woman kept surprising everyone. Sometimes she had to wonder if she was mad.

"Well, it is beautiful, really."

"The manufacturing process has been lost, but despite the sum I think I fooled the dealer. Idiot couldn't recognize a Mideelese original if it smacked him upside the head."

His arrogance was a slightly different one to most men she'd known. Cloud had a force of will that made him seem arrogant sometimes, but mostly, it was simply him. Reno relied on wit, which made him cocky. Cid's was talent. Most people she'd known were ridiculously talented in something. Barret was emotion.

"It's kind of sad that so much time went into something that kills someone, don't you think?"

Veld had spent a very long time building up the authority to back up his arrogance. And it bothered her how much time she spent trying to figure out a man that she'd only talked to a few times.

Some things about her would never change, she supposed.

"Well, it could be to defend someone."

ooo

Making a gun display worthy was just as tedious as keeping it in working order. Veld understood why most collectors also knew how to use them--it was inevitable, in a way. There was a piece he was trying to track down, another Mideelese one, but he was hitting a lot of dead ends.

He was spending a lot of time looking for beautiful deadly things.

Tifa's vacation had been two weeks, and she'd been nice enough to stop in before she'd left. It had been nice to have a regular visitor; he hadn't expected those after he'd told the remaining Turks that under no uncertain terms they were to, as they put it these days, 'fuck off'.

She tried really hard to be a good person.

Revolvers were really the most interesting to clean. If it weren't for the fact that the spin and the click being such a satisfying sound he'd wish that they rid themselves of the frivolities.

The main point of making a gun display worthy was making sure someone else couldn't get ahold of it. Someone that didn't know what they were doing. People killed people, but sometimes for the innocence that resides in ignorance.

He kept the memory chest, instead of putting it with the other things to be sold. Tifa was young, and because of that, she might want to track it down again. He wanted to give her the chance to take back her memories. Eventually people stopped running from them.

Eventually.

Veld supposed he would never see her again, as it was just a vacation and he was just an old man in an antique shop. It was nice to have someone to talk to, if briefly.

Besides, he'd learned the consequences of talking to pretty and pleasant women.

ooo

"You'll be fine. Don't be nervous."

Tifa was naturally backstage before the show. Marlene and her friends were putting on the first performance in a long time. The girl had grown so tall, nearly three inches taller than Tifa. Marlene was a girl of many talents, all of which were artistic.

It made Tifa happy to see that.

"What if I trip? I mean, I know this is good for everyone and that we should..."

"I'll be watching. And so will your dad. We won't let you fall."

She had to wonder if the girl, who was almost a young woman now, thought that she was like a mother. Tifa hadn't been around as much since Cloud finally figured out what he was and what his life meant and started causing trouble with Reno and Elena... but she liked to think that Marlene didn't ever want for a woman around.

In these utilitarian times, the arts had suffered the most. Singers used their voices to direct traffic, dancers turned to fighting monsters, and actors turned to politics. But Marlene had refused to give in to it, and Tifa had been glad for it. And Barret was beaming when he left to go sit in the front row.

She almost ran into him, literally, in her rush to her seat. Not Barret, but...

"Oh, I'm sorry... hey I know you."

"Tifa?"

"What are you doing in town?"

"Tracking down some merchandise. You live around here?"

"Ya... I can't talk right now, but after the show?"

Tifa didn't want to admit that running into Veld was a little unnerving. Not unpleasant, just... jarring. Her talks with him had been part of a transitional phase, and she was out of it. She was ready to start working again, get her life back on track. It was only a vacation.

Still, she was curious as to why he was in Edge. Not like Costa was close.

"Just in time," she whispered to Barret as she slid into her seat. He rumbled a bit--Barret never laughed, he rumbled--but soon he was all eyes on the stage.

Watching Marlene act and dance up there reminded her of why she had taken that vacation. She wasn't a half mother anymore, and there was no one else that needed her. So while she was proud and touched by the fact the world was still spinning she was a little...

...she was a little lost too.

ooo

Veld had always liked theater. A lot of men would raise their eyebrows to that, but he never really cared what they thought. Theater was one of those passively active sorts of ways to relax. Unlike movies, which felt a little flat to him. Not that every play was a good play and he especially abhorred that interpretive dance shit, but it was something pleasant.

He was trying to find a lot of things that were simply pleasant.

The leading lady reminded him of someone, though, and he hadn't expected that. Marlene Wallace, the playbill had said. The name was familiar, but the only Wallace he'd encountered looked nothing like her. Maybe he was starting to see things that weren't there.

He'd thought about just leaving and going along his way when the curtain fell. He was only in town for a few days, while waiting for a weapon a dealer had left in escrow with his cousin. Veld had never liked nepotism much, but business was business and there was no sense in him sitting and reading in his room at the inn.

He decided to stick around. Maybe he would get to shake this Marlene's hand, before she got too famous. Though, considering she was the lead in the first theater act in the Midgar area in over ten years... it might be difficult.

And there was Tifa.

"I didn't expect to find you here, did you relocate?"

"I'm only here for a few days. How are things going for you?"

"Fine... wasn't Marlene great? I'm a friend of her dad's, known her since she was," she indicated with her hand like old people often did when describing, "this tall. She grew up on me!"

So it was that Wallace. Considering the large and intense looking man that appeared at Tifa's right shoulder. Either Marlene took after her mother or she was adopted. Considering the mistrust emanating from the man, Veld figured she was adopted.

And to some extent, so was Tifa.

"Children tend to do that. Though you shouldn't talk like that, you make it sound as if you're over the hill."

"Well I am--" She stopped. It was silly that a younger woman would complain about being old around a fossil like him. Honestly.

Barret spoke up then. "Friend of yours?"

"Oh! I didn't even notice you there, Barret, quit being sneaky. This is Veld, that shop owner I told you about from Costa?"

Veld got the distinct impression that Barret thought the worst of him.

"He's not giving you any trouble, is he?"

"Of course not! He's a nice man. Right, Veld?"

"I'm an unarmed geriatric, sir." Veld held out the sides of his jacket. "I'm as harmless as a kitten."

The side of Barret's mouth went up. "Jus' checkin'. You a bit old ta be real dangerous, but Tifa could always use a bit o' guardin'."

Tifa smacked him on the arm. "I can take care of myself. You just like playing big brother too much."

"Daddy! There you are!"

Veld, without thinking, turned. It was Marlene, and of course she wasn't talking to him. He felt momentarily foolish, but luckily Barret had already started hugging her and chattering at him. It was time to leave.

"It was nice to see you again, Tifa."

"Wait. Are you hungry?"

ooo

Tifa remembered her mother had said something about it being polite to visitors from outside of town. She'd originally meant to go to dinner with the rest of the cast and families like Barret had, but... well, she was feeling a little off. And Veld had provided a good out, really.

He'd dressed up slightly. She'd only noticed it just now, with her pasta half eaten that he wasn't just wearing the suit jacket because Edge was cooler than Costa. But no, he was from a time when you didn't just put on something comfortable, like she had, when going to the theater.

She'd also noticed he tended to refer to himself as an old man a lot. It was silly, considering he still had his hair, and it was only half grey.

"So why aren't you with the others, Tifa?"

He had distracted her with his mannerisms and she wasn't quite prepared for that. The conversation hadn't been unpleasant, really, but it hadn't been particularly good. They were avoiding any real sort of conversation because they were only slightly more than acquaintances and she had noticed that he'd turned when Marlene called for Barret.

There was a story behind that, clearly. Just like there was one behind why she was eating a comfortable meal with a man that she barely knew instead of with the closest thing she had to a family.

"You really want to know? Or is this small talk."

He put his fork down and didn't glare, but didn't particularly look vaguely friendly like he usually did. Alright, so he didn't like it when people dodged a point.

"I wouldn't have asked, but if it's none of my business you can just say so."

She'd ordered a beer because now that she'd been away from a bar long enough, she kind of missed its smell. It was half empty now and it would take a couple more for her to even feel a tingle, but she was suddenly rather focused on it.

It couldn't hurt to tell someone, she supposed. Particularly someone that didn't associate with everyone else she knew. Maybe his outside perspective would simply tell her that she was being stupid. She needed to visit Shera, too, while she was at it. Though, that woman had some strange advice sometimes.

"Do you ever just feel... out of place? Purposeless?" She took a sip of her beer. "I'm in a rut, and no one that I know--well except maybe Shera but she's got her own problems--that no one can see it. And Marlene up there on stage like a lady just put it into perspective for me."

"It's natural for people to feel stuck sometimes."

"No, this is different. Have you ever been a parent?"

He paused a second before answering. "Yes." Illogically, she glanced to see if he had a ring. None on the left meant he wasn't currently married. None on the right meant he was out of his grieving period. These were old customs.

"Well, your kid or kids are grown up already. I wasn't really Marlene's mother, and Elmyra spent more time with her than I did, but she was sort of... well a reason, I guess. I sold the bar a couple years ago now and she's all grown up and I don't know what to do now, I guess."

Oh Shiva she was rambling. She took a breath. "I'm boring you."

He folded his hands in front of him on the table and seemed to consider what she was saying for far too long. Long enough to worry her, because maybe unloading her problems on a slightly more than acquaintance was dumb thing.

"I think you need more than a vacation. Do you have any relatives or friends outside of Edge?"

She bit her lip. "I have a friend in Rocket Town, but him and his, ah, girlfriend have been fighting."

"No one else?"

"I know someone in Cosmo, too, but that feels a bit too much like a retirement home to me."

He smirked at that.

"I only suggested it because it seems as if Edge has left you feeling stagnant, and you would be surprised what a change of scenery could do."

It hit her so quickly that she didn't even stop to think about it. "Are you still needing an assistant?"

Judging by his expression, he hadn't expected his advice to bring about that kind of reaction. Tifa hadn't felt this impulsive in years, but he had been right. Edge had left her stagnant, in the years or so when her and Cloud were a maybe-if-nothing and then the years devoted to the bar that wore her out and then now. It wasn't Cloud's fault at all, and they had tried something, but when she kissed him it felt like she was kissing her nonexistent brother. There had been no spark.

So here she was, thirtysomething and having gone no where after that one big adventure, unmarried, talking to a man she barely knew hoping he would give her a job.

"You certain that working with antiques won't bore you a little?"

"I used to run a bar, I understand a few things about a business. And you said that young assistants were in demand these days. That has to count for something."

"I'm not sure how much I can pay you, and the real-estate is ridiculous out that way..."

"You have a spare room? I'll cook for you if you want."

He sighed. "I suppose this is what I get for giving advice. Are you sure about this?"

"You don't have to pay me, so long as you give me somewhere to live. It's a good deal, I'd think. I'll even shake on it."

She held her hand over the remains of her pasta and his mostly finished pork chop. He half smiled.

"Don't you keep up with the times? I want this deal in writing, Miss Lockheart, no one ever shakes on a deal anymore."