Once again, Reno has demanded his say. Strangely, it somehow managed to stay rated T. I've never done this pairing before. Hopefully it works. Along with Reno, I should also thank The Sacred and Profane, whom I don't know, but whose fanfics have recently reminded me how much I like this pairing.

Rated T. I don't think there are any warnings, unless you include drinking and an occasional colorful phrase. I even kept that tame.

Timeline is post AC. No spoilers, but there are references to the AC storyline. I may have taken some liberties with certain details.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from ffvii or its characters. As I've made perfectly clear, Reno owns ME.

Thank you for reading.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Lost, Found

Tifa glanced at the red-head at the end of the bar for at least the twentieth time in as many minutes.

What was he doing here?

After the remnants, after the church, Tifa hadn't expected to see him again anytime soon. Yes, there was always the possibility, but he had never frequented Seventh Heaven. Yet, here he was, a few weeks later, in what had become an almost nightly ritual, propped on one of the stools at the bar, farthest from the door.

Perhaps it was because Tifa had, on the first night, refused his money. It had been her way of thanking him for his part in that last battle. It was also nice, she found, to have a Turk in the bar on certain nights. Although they were certainly capable of causing their fair share of trouble, the mere presence of a Turk uniform seemed to keep people calm; wary of the potential for tangling with one of them, and everyone seemed to know Reno. On occasion, she caught his name being whispered in various conversations as patrons tried not to look at him directly.

She had worried at first, from what rumor she had heard, that it might be a mistake, not charging him, but he hadn't yet taken advantage of her generosity, always accepting whatever she poured, and never having more than one or two drinks.

He always came in towards the end of the night, or early morning, as the case may be, arriving sometime before last call, and he would wait till the last person was leaving before saluting Tifa with his glass, downing the last of the drink and taking his leave without so much as a goodbye, lighting a cigarette on his way to the door.

Now, as the clock ticked towards three, Tifa watched him roll the glass in his hands, wondering why the usually happy-go-lucky Turk seemed so somber.

With the exception of two others at the bar, it was a dead night. Perhaps this was the night to find out.

She approached slowly, picking up a bottle on her way. She was sure he was aware of her, but he didn't acknowledge her until she extended the bottle to top his drink. He held the glass still, not meeting her eyes until she set her own glass on the bar.

"Mind if I join you? Or would you rather drink alone?"

He waived his glass at hers. "I hate drinking alone."

Which didn't explain why he was there, doing exactly that.

She poured her own drink, setting the bottle aside, and took a sip of the strong alcohol.

"So how are things going with Shinra these days?"

He shrugged, sitting back casually on the stool. "Same old, but real quiet since that last fight. How 'bout you, Lockhart?"

She looked around the bar, nodding. "Actually, pretty good. My business has gone up since the geostigma's gone."

His nod was an ambivalent gesture.

"You've been around a lot lately, Reno."

"You want me to leave?" He was pushing the drink back, levering himself off the stool. She placed a hand on his wrist, over the EMR cuff, and he stilled, glancing down at the light touch, and then back up at Tifa.

Tifa wasn't sure if his expression was surprise or warning, but decided it would be better to err on the side of caution, withdrawing her hand slowly.

"No, that's not what I want. I just found it curious." Something calmed in her as he settled back into his seat. A strange feeling, it was almost as if she were relieved he hadn't bolted. She scrambled for something to say, to distract her from whatever that feeling was.

"I owe you a thank you."

He took a drink, eyeing her over the edge of the glass, eyes narrowed, confused.

"For what?"

She nodded at the stairs. "For searching for the kids."

He shrugged. "It was no big deal."

Tifa let the sincerity shine in her eyes. "It was to me, so thank you. And thank you for helping Cloud in that last battle."

Reno scanned the room, the stairs, as if he would catch sight of the blonde.

"Where is the Chocobo, anyway?"

Tifa followed his glance to the stairs. "On the road. Working."

When she looked back at Reno, his attention was squarely on her.

"So nothing's changed."

Her smile was sweet, melancholy. "I wouldn't say that. I think Cloud has come a long way, and that things will be better now."

"You looked really hopeful, outside that church."

That was a surprise. She hadn't even realized Reno had still been around after Cloud's return.

"I am hopeful. I want him to be happy."

Reno finished his drink, savoring the sting of the smooth amber liquid in his mouth and throat, and stood up, stretching his lean body.

"It's that time." He nodded at the clock. Three o'clock on the button. Had he been watching the clock? Tifa hadn't noticed. Or perhaps, she thought, he was just that aware. For the first time, she noticed that the two other men who had been in the bar had vacated, coins on the counter near their glasses.

He was sauntering towards the door with that easy sway of his, adjusting his suit jacket to fall more comfortably on his shoulders, and Tifa had the incredible urge to follow him. Or call him back.

"So will I be seeing you again, or did you just come for the free drinks?" She made sure she kept her voice light, with a lilt of humor in it.

He paused, turning just his head back towards her, caught in profile, the red hair haphazardly framing his face, and that adorable smile.

"Want to find out? Maybe you should make me pay my tab."

Should she? Did she want to find out if it was about the free booze or something else? Did she really want to know the answer to that?

Could she tolerate not knowing the answer? Maintaining her humor, she stepped up to the dare.

"So pay your tab, Turk."

Turning slowly back, he reached into his pocket and withdrew some coins and sidled over to place them on the bar, his smile still in place.

"I take it you expect a tip with this as well, huh?" He glanced up at her, held her gaze. "Make sure you follow your own advice, Lockhart; don't get caught up in the past. Whatever else happens, Beautiful, make sure you're happy."

Tifa stared at the door that had closed behind him, and then at the coins he had left. She approached them slowly, and found that it was far more than what he owed her for the night, even considering a tip, but the money, the advice, the conversation, her drink; it was all lost on her now.

Reno thought she was beautiful.

Reno stood under a nearby streetlamp long enough to put a cigarette between his lips, and flick the lighter. Drawing the smoke into his lungs, he glanced back at the bar, expression thoughtful, before he made his way down the hazy street.

What was he doing? How had he let his urge to come here get the better of him? He had tried to argue himself out of it; had come up with every viable reason why it was a bad idea. Yeah, he had helped the effort when the remnants had shown up, but that was under Rufus' orders, not out of any sense of honor. Well, except for finding the kids. He had done that because, because…well, better to not go there. He didn't need to check on anyone; he knew they would all survive. They always did. And he was a Turk, for Gaia's sake. As if members of AVALANCHE were interested in Turks hanging around. Then there was Rude; he liked Tifa, had for a long time. What would he think about Reno's recent behavior?

He ran a hand through the tangle of his hair. Despite the arguments he had come up with, he had found himself, night after night, at Seventh Heaven. Maybe it was because Tifa poured the drinks and expected nothing in return.

But he didn't think so.

One, two, three nights. The edge of expectation was lifting and disappointment, strangely bitter, was taking its place.

Five.

Eight.

Tifa had finally given up, given in. She berated herself for taking an odd comfort in Reno. He had become an element of unexpected pleasant surprise in her life. There was also a certain amount of comfort in his presence, both in that the patrons were wary of him, and in a personal way; he had an easy familiarity about him that made him easy to be around, that made his company...enjoyable.

And now he was no longer there.

"You're silly," she mumbled to herself one night after the room had cleared. She had caught herself standing at the door, glancing down the street, hoping that she might catch a glimpse of him, hoping he might be running late.

"Where is this coming from?" She asked herself, completely unself-conscious that her only audience was a broom, empty tables and chairs, and an array of glittering, multi-colored, multi-dimensional bottles. Sure, she had found him handsome; who wouldn't? The distinctive red hair and bright green eyes were graceful accents to a strong, lithe body. And she had seen him fight, had even fought him. She was keenly aware of the speed and maneuverability that body was capable of. But he was a Turk; the Turk, in fact, that had hit the button that had dropped the plate.

"Just following orders," she muttered.

"Who's following orders?"

Tifa spun towards the voice, broom clutched to her chest.

"Really, Lockhart. If you need a dance partner, all you have to do is ask."

He looked like he always did; a graceful slink in his walk as he crossed the room, hair pulled back, clothes casually rumpled, hands in his pockets. When he was close enough, he took the broom from her, leaning it against the back of a chair, and took her into his arms, spinning her around easily to a tune she was unaware of. Music wouldn't have been important, anyway. What mattered was the easy flex of muscles as he pulled her against his lean frame, the heat of his body emanating through the cloth of his suit, and the scent of him. Beneath the smell of tobacco, gunpowder, and gun oil was the scent of skin that had been kissed by the sun and a light, masculine cologne. It invaded her senses, and when he released her, she had to steady herself with a hand on the back of a barstool.

"Is it too late for a man to get a drink?"

Tifa circled around the bar. "I think I can manage that." She set two glasses on the surface, reached for a bottle and poured the drinks.

"So what orders are we following?"

"Huh?"

"You said something about following orders."

Oh, yeah. She had been thinking out loud when he came in. Thank Gaia he hadn't been able to hear the thoughts that had led to that statement.

"Oh. That. It was nothing, Reno. Just…thinking." She crossed her fingers that he wouldn't pursue that. She was too tired to come up with a cover.

He was looking at her strangely as he took a sip of his drink, but didn't prompt her further.

"I didn't think I'd see you here again." She resisted the urge to slap her hand over her mouth.

He tilted his head, sitting back and rolling his shoulders.

"Why not?"

Tifa had to think about that for a second. She hadn't meant to say anything, and had no way of explaining it.

"I…You…uh…"

He was laughing at her. She wanted to knock him off the stool.

"You didn't really think having to pay for my drinks would really affect me coming here, did you?"

Tifa tried to hide the flush in her face by taking a drink.

"I'm a Turk, Lockhart. It's not like money's an issue."

"I just figured you got tired of coming here."

Eyes flickering over the room, he waved a hand at it. "Well, to be honest with you, it does lack personality. But there's something to be said for a barkeep that's not half bad to look at."

She gasped indignantly. "But you said I was…" Her voice faded as she realized what she was about to say.

"I said you were what?" His eyes were sparkling, and a smile was pulling at his lips. Damn him; he knew what she was talking about but was going to make her spell it out.

Tifa flinched as the phone rang at the end of the bar. It wasn't unheard of, a late night call, but it wasn't common either. And there was always the possibility it was Cloud.

"Excuse me."

She left Reno, aware of him watching her as she crossed to the phone.

"Seventh Heaven." She turned away as she listened to the voice on the phone, walking around the corner into the back storage room. "No, I haven't heard anything, but if I do, I'll call you." Another pause as she listened. "No, it's no problem…No, everything here is fine...thanks for worrying. Good night."

She replaced the phone, and returned to the bar, to her drink, to Reno, who was still watching her.

"Strife?"

"Yuffie." A horrible thought occurred to her. Maybe that's why Reno was hanging around; maybe he was trying to contact Cloud. "Did you want to talk to him? You want me to call him and leave a message?"

Now he really was laughing. "Strife? Why would I want to talk to the Chocobo?"

"I…I don't know. I just thought…" Oh, she was not going to stutter her way through whatever explanation her brain had schemed up.

"You thought what?" His eyes were narrowing and he looked pissed, but Tifa didn't know why, and that bothered her.

"I was just asking, Reno."

The anger fled his features, and fatigue took its place. He finished off his drink, reaching in his pocket for money.

"No, Reno." She extended a hand to still his, stopping just short of touching him. "It's on the house."

He was staring down at her hand, and then slowly raised his eyes to hers.

"You afraid to touch me, Lockhart?"

She had to force herself to wrap her hand around his and squeeze lightly, not because she didn't want to, but because she wanted it too much.

"Of course not."

He held the coins up in his other hand. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

He turned his hand so it was palm to palm with hers, his fingers tracing along her hand as he pulled away.

"You know, he's lucky, Lockhart."

"Who?" He was walking away, and she was wishing she had wrapped her fingers with his and held on.

"Strife. He's lucky to have you. I wonder if he even knows." He opened the door and stepped out, then turned back to her, the length of his body silhouetted in the doorway.

"I wouldn't be able to do it, Lockhart, leave you for days on end, wondering when I'll call or show up. I'd have a hard time leaving you for even as long as a day if you were mine. 'Night, Tifa. I'll see you tomorrow."

She was once again left staring, this time at a door that was slowly swinging shut, a door that seemed like it was miles away.

He had called her Tifa. He thought she was beautiful. And in a rush, she recognized the feelings that had been nagging at her.

Even at a casual stroll, Reno was well down the block before Tifa caught up with him, his name breathless on her lips, her hand a gentle pressure on his arm, turning him.

"Were you serious?"

He wasn't sure what she was talking about, but it was clear she was upset.

"Serious?"

Tifa was shaking her head, long hair falling to frame her face, her dark eyes piercing.

"I want to know if there's a chance."

He put the only pieces together he could figure from what she was saying.

"If I said it, I meant it. I'll stop by tomorrow." He wondered how much it really meant to her when he stopped by, to know that there was someone there that she might be able to rely on.

"That's not what I meant." She stamped her foot, her fists clenching tight at her sides, reminding him of when she fought.

"I want to know if there's a chance for me." Her eyes were shimmering, and Reno was at a loss. Was she going to cry? It would take a world of hurt to bring the Tifa Lockhart he knew to tears. What had he said that would have hurt her that bad?

"Tifa…"

She was stepping out on a limb, and she knew it. He had sounded so sincere, almost as if it hurt him to think about it, but maybe they had just been words. Maybe he simply felt sorry for her.

Then again, maybe his frequent visits, his insightful words, meant something more.

"'If you were mine'. That's what you said. Is it possible? Is there a chance for me to be yours?"

She had never seen him so intense, yet completely lacking that edge of humor or anger that he tended towards. It was as serious an expression she had ever witnessed from him.

Reno studied her. He wasn't sure what he had hoped for, coming here night after night for so long. He had been aware of Tifa Lockhart for as long as he could remember. He knew her past, was aware of her present. And there were obstacles; Cloud, AVALANCHE, possibly Rude. Hell, even Yuffie hated him. And Shinra would hit the roof if word ever got out that one of his Turks was spending time with a member of AVALANCHE.

Screw it. It didn't matter what any of them thought. It mattered what he thought. And what Tifa thought.

He remained very still. It wasn't often he let this type of seriousness claim him.

"Would you want a chance like that?"

Tifa stepped closer.

"If you're offering." She wanted more than that, but this would be a good first step.

Reno reached out, long fingers skimming across the sensitive skin of her arm.

"I don't share, Tifa."

"Me either."

"And it has to be mutual; a chance for us to belong to each other."

She met his hand with hers, interlocking their fingers.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Neither had thought the kiss possible before that night. It was so tentative, yet sweet and tender, and completely electrifying, astonishing them both. With it, their lives took a turn in a direction they had never imagined, and though their path would change, twisting and turning over the years, they would always remember a single kiss, under a lamppost, in the darkest hours of the morning, as the beginning of a journey they would evermore travel together.