Disclaimer: I disclaim all ownership of the characters of Final Fantasy VII.
A/N: This was originally a one-shot piece featuring only the first chapter. However, I've decided to expand on the family relationships between the residents of Seventh Heaven, as I particularly enjoyed writing the original Scapegoat Mom. I've also edited the original first chapter, fixing some minor errors, and making it a little more fluid. I hope you enjoy it.
Scapegoat Mom
There was knocking on the door.
Or actually, to be more precise, there was a series of obnoxiously loud pounding, causing the door to jolt violently.
Tifa twisted the knob, already aware of what she was about to face.
"You're his mother, aren't you?!"
A very angry woman stood at the doorsteps of Seventh Heaven, her hands fisted on her hips and her expression radiating potentially murderous intentions. Tifa raised her brow, slightly startled at the sudden outbursts of the stranger.
"Excuse me?" she asked, pretending to be uncertain of the situation.
The woman glared, causing little wrinkles to scrunch up near her eyes.
"Oh don't give me that! I know exactly who you are!" the woman turned, revealing the bruised child that had been concealed behind her long skirt. "Look what your child did to my son!"
Tifa gasped slightly at the swollen visage of the little boy, but still, she remained silent.
"How old are you anyway?" the woman asked, her voice still excruciatingly loud.
Tifa gaped, ruby eyes slightly widened. "What does that have anything to—"
"I asked you a question, young lady!"
The woman's glare intensified, but Tifa remained unmoved.
"I'm twenty-two," she said calmly.
"And your son is about ten, I presume?"
Tifa shook her head. "Denzel is eight."
The woman clicked her tongue, pausing, as if she was mentally calculating something. Then she gasped, glowering furiously. "You had him when you were fourteen? That's just sick!"
Tifa pursed her lips, irritated at the woman's rudeness. "I'm not his mother by birth. I'm his guardian," she said, her voice a little tense.
"I honestly don't care about you or your son, but you should learn to be a better guardian! If I ever hear about that child coming near my boy again, don't think I won't hesitate to report it!"
And with a loud hmph, the woman grabbed her child's wrist and stomped off, leaving Tifa to stare at her from the entrance of the bar. Sighing, she closed the door, but left it unlocked so Cloud could come in when he arrived. Thank goodness there had been no patrons, or that whole ordeal would have been quite embarrassing. But Tifa couldn't disregard the fact that Denzel was in trouble. After seeing what he had done to that other boy, she knew she had to do something about it. I'm his mother, she thought, I'll have treat him like a mother would.
Tifa walked across the bar, reminiscing about her own childhood and parents as she ascended up the staircase. When she reached the top of the stairs, she noticed that Marlene was seated on Cloud's bed, hugging her knees and wiping away her tears. Tifa sighed, and walked up to the children's room, knocking on the door.
"Denzel, can I come in?" she asked gently.
Only silence answered her, and she turned the knob, sighing. Denzel was seated on his bed, arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched and face red. Tifa leaned her shoulder against the wall.
"Denzel, do you want to tell me what happened?"
More silence.
"Denzel, I'm just trying to help. Listen, I saw what you did to that boy and—"
"Leave me alone! Just go away!" Denzel snapped, his voice harsh and shaky.
Tifa was a little startled, but regained her posture and sighed.
"Is that how you're going to be, Denzel? You're just going to shove me away?"
She noticed a little twitch in Denzel's hand.
"Denzel, please just talk to me. I'm only trying to—"
"I said go away!"
Tifa felt a slight pain in her chest, but she didn't move. Back when she was a little younger than Denzel, she and her friends had accidentally broken her neighbor's window. Her father had been a little upset, but Tifa, who had been angry at the accusations made against her, refused to apologize, and acted quite rudely to her parents. That was probably the first and last time she had been punished by her father.
And it reminded her of this very situation. Tifa pursed her lips, slightly irritated at how she was being treated. She decided to use the same approach her father had done when he had punished her.
"Denzel!" she yelled, her sudden change in volume startling him as well as herself. "There's a thin metal rod on Cloud's desk! I want you to bring it here, now!"
Denzel gazed at her, his eyes beginning to brim with tears.
"Y-you're going to h-hit me with it?"
Tifa paused, shaken by the sudden fear in Denzel's face. Nevertheless, she maintained her posture.
"I'm going to punish you for the way you're acting!" she said. "And for what you did to that boy!"
Denzel quickly wiped away his tears and snorted, hopping off the bed and shoving past her through the door. Tifa heard him stomp into Cloud's room, shuffle around some papers, then stomp back. When he returned, Denzel tossed the metal rod at Tifa's hands, his eyes still glaring.
"Go ahead, then! Punish me! I don't care!"
Tifa gripped the rod firmly, placing it at her side and sighing. "Denzel, we all make mistakes. That's what makes us human. But sometimes, those mistakes bring consequences, and punishment may be the only way of making you remember not to ever make that mistake again."
Denzel's glare had diminished into more of an apologetic look, like the gaze a son would give to his mother just before being punished. It brought some comfort to Tifa's heart.
"Hold out your hands, Denzel," she said calmly.
Denzel trembled slightly, fear showing in his eyes. Tifa felt her heart rip at the sight, and it pained her to make him so frightened, but she knew she had to do this. Just like her father had done.
I'm his mother.
Slowly, Denzel raised out his palms, shutting his eyes and jerking his head to the side, and biting his lower lip.
With a deep breath, Tifa held up the metal rod, and placed it in Denzel's hands.
The boy looked up, eyes emitting a puzzled look.
"I want you to hit me, Denzel," Tifa said, holding out her own palms. Denzel only responded with more confusion.
"There has to be a form of punishment. And I surely don't want it to be on you, so I'll take it. I'll take your punishment, Denzel. Now hit my hands."
A tear began to trace down the boy's cheek, reddening his eyes and causing his lips to tremble slightly. "T-Tifa…"
"Do it, Denzel. Just hit my hands."
"T-Tifa…I…I c-can't…"
"There has to be a form of punishment. I'm willing to take it for you."
"Tifa…p-please…"
"Denzel, if you don't hit my hands, I'll have to hit yours. You don't want that, do you?"
Denzel shook his head.
"Then hit me, Denzel. It's okay."
Denzel felt two more tears trail down his face, and his hands trembled at the thought of Tifa taking his own punishment.
"Just do it," she said, eyes showing kindness and concern. It was like a mother's gaze.
Hesitantly, Denzel raised the rod-held hand, and gently tapped Tifa's left palm.
"Denzel! That tickled! You can't call that punishment! You have to hit me harder!"
"But Tifa!" he yelled, dropping the rod. "I…I c-can't!"
With a burst of tears, Denzel embraced the woman that was willing to take his punishment. He sobbed onto her shoulder, hugging her, his scapegoat mom. Tifa smiled, letting out her own tears as the two squeezed each other close, unwilling to let go of the bond they shared together. Tifa leaned over the boy's shoulder, whispering into his ear, "I love you, Denzel."
He only cried harder.
When her father had done what she shared with Denzel, Tifa had sobbed all night, embracing her own scapegoat dad. It was the last time she ever got in trouble. After that, she was too afraid that her father would willingly take her future punishments, and Tifa Lockhart became the caring person she is today.
When he finally wiped away his last tears, Denzel thanked Tifa. She merely smiled at him and nodded, telling him that she'd make his favorite dish for dinner. Denzel walked into the bathroom to wash his face, leaving Tifa in the hallway.
She was surprised to see that Cloud had returned, and was busily searching through his room for something. Marlene was helping him.
"What're ya looking for?" she asked, slightly amused at the frantic look on Cloud's face.
"I know I left it here!" he yelled, tossing a pair of jeans onto the bed and sighing. "I accidentally broke Fenrir's kickstand last night! Have you seen it?"
Tifa giggled.