Disclosed To You

Disclaimer: Don't work for Square. Don't own their characters. I do not make money off of this story. If I ever get paid by someone for this, they are slap-bum crazies.

Warnings: Nothing unsuitable yet.

AN: This first one is more angsty than I usually like, and though I altered the chapter (I was a little dissatisfied), there's no getting around that. Just stay with me, I promise that it will lighten up real fast, okie dokie?

-

Tifa had a great deal of cleaning to do.

The many dishes accumulating in the sink were wafting an almost moldy stench throughout Seventh Heaven. The usually luminous and reflective marble countertop had fingerprints and cheek prints all over it as a result of fatigued customers passing out in their numb, drunken states. Sometimes, with her current circumstances being what they were, she almost envied them. The floor had muddy boot prints and lost change scattered about, she was sure.

But these tasks were hardly tended to. Of course, it was vexing her, somewhere in the back of her mind, buried under all the other, more prevalent thoughts. Eventually, though, those chores met the same fate as most other tasks did recently when met with Tifa, they fell last in line on her agenda. It wasn't that she was busy – oh, far from it – she was just weary from carrying out the same old tasks of tending a bar every day. Surely there was something different, more exciting to do? I'll clean later, she assured herself. Soon the cleaning would be a welcome break from the routine of daily life, which was fast becoming repetitive.

It all happened like clockwork each night.

At the end of a long, busy night of bar keeping, and escorting a few protesting and addled patrons out the door, Tifa would trudge upstairs with aching legs and a light head, telling herself that the cleaning could again be done later. Surely the drunks didn't care. It was their mess, anyway, right? Yes, right. So, she was justified... for now.

Sometimes throughout the course of the day, when passing the office, she'd glance at the phone, which hadn't needed answering in at least a month. Almost unconsciously and against her will, her eyes would drift over to the photo sitting innocently beside it.

On the way to her empty room, she'd make a stop to tuck in Marlene, and sometimes listen to how her own day went. Often Marlene would excitedly show her a picture she drew or colored. A wonderful artist, Tifa deemed her.

The girl was always a comforting presence in the somewhat hollow place Tifa should have called home, no matter how young she was. She had a maturity that seemed out of place for her age, and it was amazing, how easy it could be to talk to her. Often Tifa had to bite her tongue. She had to remind herself that no matter how understanding the person, it wasn't right to burden others with your problems. Especially not the young and energetic Marlene.

After all was said and done, depending on how tired her labored limbs and muscles were, she would either just tumble into bed and drape herself in layers of blankets in a vain attempt to ward off the coldness in her empty room, or lay in a tub of hot water for hours into the night until her skin was wrinkled and the water cool. And sometimes, if lucky, she would toss and turn in a fitful sleep instead of lying awake, wondering of things she couldn't do anything about.

It was almost funny, now that he was gone. When he was still here, she'd loathed the way he left his thick old boots in the middle of the hallway, and how they sat waiting for her to come along and unwittingly stumble over them, or how he would forget his coat from time to time, claiming that the cold didn't bother him as she worried constantly about his health, or how he never spoke words of true substance to her anymore, how when he did speak to her, he was always looking off somewhere else into space, doing anything that was possible to avoid eye contact.

All she'd wanted was to be a friend to him, when she'd missed the opportunity to be there for him in childhood. She'd been too naïve to notice that Cloud Strife watched over her from afar. When she found him in Midgar, she'd let her hopes climb far too high, thinking that she'd been given a second chance to show him her appreciation.

When he was still here, even if she felt invisible, at least he was near. If she could have his presence back in her life now, she would put up with the drifting expressions, the distant tone of voice, and even the detached mask of politeness in their conversations that worked to keep her from confronting him. She would take the bad with the good, if only to have him there. Even if he was not really with her, it was fine to have him there.

All she'd wanted was to be a friend to him. She'd let the opportunity to be there for him in childhood slip through her fingers. She'd been too naïve in those days to notice that Cloud Strife watched over her from afar with admiration in his eyes. When she found him in Midgar, she'd let her hopes climb far too high, thinking that she'd been given a second chance to show him her appreciation. Now though, she knew that she deserved to have him act as though he hardly knew her.

Tifa had fought many trying battles, done many things she considered a stain on her person, risked her life for a cause that she was so unsure of it was like a foundation shaking and cracking beneath her feet, and she'd saved the world. Everyone who knew her well enough would agree that she was a strong woman… but nobody must have realized just how weak she felt. Regret is a trying emotion.

That morning, she'd come downstairs to find Marlene getting out a rag and straining to reach a greasy spot on the counter. Of course she would eventually try to help out herself. All justification and excuses about the cleaning left her, and suddenly she was overwhelmed with self-disgust. How could she just let the place get this way? Before she knew it, she'd snatched the rag from the little girl, more roughly than initially intended.

"You can just tell me if I'm being irresponsible, Marlene." She muttered to Marlene over her shoulder.

"You can just tell me if I'm being a bother, Cloud."

And later that night, after Tifa's profuse apologies to Marlene while tucking her in, there was a gentle knock on the door downstairs.