This takes place right at the beginning of Advent Children Complete.

It was early morning, the bar was not even open yet.

Tifa had broken out the whiskey again. About a third of the bottle was gone, and she was only just starting to feel giddy. She was no alcoholic, and she never drank in front of the children, but every once in a while she found herself in the mood for a stiff drink.

She could out drink everyone in AVALANCHE except Cloud and Vincent, but she considered their physical enhancements 'cheating'.

She had first begun training her palate shortly after joining AVALANCHE. Barret, Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie would go out on a mission; and Tifa would stay at the bar with nothing to do but cope with her worry.

Thinking of friends long gone had her pouring herself another glass.

Sometimes she would accompany them, but only very rarely. It wasn't that they didn't think she would be of use, but being the owner of their hideout meant that going on a mission would be a huge risk to their location. It didn't help that the bar was so popular. Tifa hadn't been very fond of going on missions anyway, but it still frustrated her, being unable to help or even know if they were alive until they returned.

Every so often, she would end up having a glass of gin or whiskey to sooth her nerves. The alcohol in the slums was disgusting, but it did what she needed it to do.

Tifa still remembered the first mission she had performed as a member of AVALANCHE.

It had been almost three years to the day since the Nibelheim Incident, and about two years before Cloud would appear, seemingly out of nowhere, in Sector Seven.

Aged eighteen, she was still an apprentice barkeep under Clyde Fraiser, who had built the Seventh Heaven with his own two hands. He was a gruff man, and a touch perverted; on meeting Tifa for the first time he had exclaimed that she was 'just what he was looking for.'

He was not a creep about it though, always keeping his hands to himself; initially, Tifa suspected, out of respect to Zangan.

Zangan, Tifa's martial arts master, who had carried Tifa all the way from Nibelheim to get her to Midgar's top-quality hospitals. Most people Sephiroth attacked did not live to talk about it. That she made it that far was nothing short of a miracle.

When she had recovered, Zangan had trusted Clyde enough to leave her in his care. Soon after, he departed to parts unknown. Later on, Clyde would come to respect Tifa in earnest after watching her take out a Hell House, that had crept up on Clyde one day, single-handed.

After that Clyde had offered to teach her how to be a bartender; a strange reward to some, but in the slums it meant work, and that meant gil. And in the slums, gil meant survival.

The Seventh Heaven was already a base for AVALANCHE at the time, so it was through Clyde that Tifa met Barret and the others.

Apparently Clyde had built the bar intending from the start for it to house an anti-Shinra faction, and this was no surprise, given his wily personality. But Jessie had always said that 'Seventh Heaven' was too cute a name for him to have come up with himself. But he always asserted that he, himself, had thought it up long ago.

One time, Biggs and Wedge tried getting him drunk, to see if he'd tell them the real story. But all they got was an unlikely tale about a First-class SOLDIER who had come up with it while visiting the slums. As if. But when Clyde had fallen off his stool trying to protest that it was true, all with such an earnest look on his face, they had all broken out in uproarious laughter.

It was one of Tifa's fondest memories of him, punctuated by the sorrow that always followed when she remembered that her fist mission had been only a month later. . .

Sighing, Tifa refilled her glass.

Her first mission had not been pleasant, to put it lightly. The day had started like any other day. She got up, got dressed, and started setting up the bar. But before she could even switch the 'closed' sign to 'open', Barret called up to her from the hidden room.

She sat on the pinball machine. She reached around the back of the game to flick the switch that activated the elevator. Legs crossed, she rode down to the 'The Lair.'

Barret looked troubled, but Clyde looked absolutely furious.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Barret opened his mouth to reply, but Clyde cut him off, shouting, "They wanna whore you out!"

"No!" bellowed Barret, "Fer de las' tam, it's an interragation! An' kepit down! Marlene's tryin' ter sleep!"

Barret's Corelian accent was more pronounced, as it always became when he was agitated, making him twice as hard to understand.

"Before it was 'simple reconnaissance', now it's an 'interrogation'. Make up your mind Barret!" Clyde growled, continuing what was clearly an argument that had been going on for a long time.

"Jus' let 'er hear me out at least yah foo'! She's a big girl an' can decide fer 'herself if she wants ta do it!" said Barret with finality.

Clyde couldn't very well argue with this, not with Tifa standing right there. He fumbled for words for moment, "Fine! Let's see what she thinks of your brilliant idea."

Barret looked unhappy, and he probably would have preferred to have someone else standing in his place. Turning to face Tifa, he spoke slowly and concisely,

"I have a mission for you."

He paused.

"Go on, Boss." Clyde hissed, his face red with anger.

Barret cleared his throat uncomfortably,"We need more info if we're gonna attack the reactor," He said, speaking more clearly,

"We need info from the inside, an since Biggs' cover got blown b'fore he could get to the entry codes," Barret glared at Biggs, who closed his eyes and held up his hands in a peaceful gesture,

"We need to try a 'nother approach. Our mole in sector one says tha' the reactor's manager goes to the Goblin Bar in sector eight every night after work. 'Parently it's a popular place fer alotta these spooks. If one of us can get 'im drunk enough, we'll get some real juicy intel.'

Barret paused awkwardly, ashamed of what he was about to suggest, 'But the thing is, our best chance of this succeeding is if either you or Jessie goes. See, I can't go 'cause I stick out too much." He gestured to his large build and gun-arm.

"Clyde can't do it 'cause he's gotta maintain appearances. Wedge's got no sense fer subtly," Wedge attempted to protest this statement, and promptly spilled his drink on himself,

"So Jessie or you gotta do it."

Tifa blinked, "So what exactly am I supposed to do?"

Barret looked abashed, and Clyde was starting to look like he was about to start breathing fire at any second. Barret continued,

"Should ya accept, ya need to infiltrate the bar, get close to this guy, an' serve him some drinks, get 'im nice an' liquored up, an' then start. . . er. . . probin' 'im fer info on the reactor. Git 'im drunk enough, he won't even remember yer face."

Although Barret didn't say it, the implications of what else might be involved in this task made Tifa's skin crawl.

"I'm blacklisted at Goblin's, ever since that fiasco with the Wutai remnants," said Jessie turning to face the others, "Besides, they'll have never seen you there before, he'll have no reason to suspect you."

This seemed to make sense, and Tifa was about say as much. But then Jessie went on with a small sneer, "You're better equipped for this kind of mission anyway, I just make the bombs."

Tifa suddenly felt herself turning red, Biggs and Wedge choked on their beers, Barret glared at her furiously, but Clyde just merely looked at her as if really seeing her for the first time.

Tifa glanced down at her bulging bosom, then back at Jessie, who had apparently realized that she had said that out loud. She looked back at her computer screen, embarrassed by her outburst. Tifa felt a strong urge to either smack her or start crying, or both. Weren't they friends?

Jessie, who was a few years older than Tifa, was a veteran of the original AVALANCHE; though she didn't talk much about it, only once saying that it had been crushed by the Turks. Tifa had come to think of Jessie as something of an older sister, but now she thought of something that had never before occurred to her. . .

Sensei Zangan had once said, "Age, race, gender, all differences are meaningless to a practitioner of the Martial Arts. An assault can come from anyone at anytime, even a child. Do not take any person for granted."

Tifa had considered this philosophy a little paranoid, but she had liked the part about differences being meaningless and embraced it. Consequently, she did not give much thought to 'gender roles.'

Tifa knew that most others were greatly concerned with such things. Not caring was liberating in that regard, she was just 'Tifa of the Zangan-ryu Dojo'.

But she couldn't deny, now that it was thrust in front of her, that she was exceptionally beautiful compared to most of the women in Midgar. To prevent being hindered by constricting clothing, Tifa usually wore a tank-top and shorts, not once thinking about how others would perceive such a thing.

Everyone who met Tifa described her as some variation of 'a total sweetheart', including Jessie. Jessie who, while not unattractive, did not receive nearly the amount of attention from the opposite sex as Tifa, even if she was totally oblivious to it.

It was completely out of character for Jessie to say something like that, but it seemed she had been bottling it up for long time. Judging from Barret, Biggs, and Wedge's expressions, they were shocked by Jessie's admission, but not surprised. Did she talk about her behind her back?

Perhaps her liberation had made her happy, but also naive. . .

'I must seem awfully stuck up.' thought Tifa. She felt offended, embarrassed, and disillusioned all in one. 'Alright, if I'm so 'well-suited' to the task, I'd better live up to it!" She thought furiously.

"I'll do it."

That night, Tifa was strolling down Loveless Avenue dressed up in a blue satin dress, with a light blue shawl Barret had 'traded' for at Wall Market. Jessie had done up her face with blush and eyeshadow, trying to make her look older. She had also made her a fake I.D. to get her to the plate. For tonight she would be impersonating Natalie Cromwell: resident of Sector 2. Since every resident of Midgar had their name and residence listed in Shinra's register, they could not just use a fake name. But Jessie had long ago hacked the database and compiled a list of Midgar residents that someone on the team could pass for. With the right techniques, it was a triviality to duplicate someone's I.D. card. The fact that Natalie Cromwell often took the train to the slums made her a perfect candidate.

Tifa had to admit, she kind of liked the idea of being someone else for a night. It gave her a kind of anonymity that she wasn't used to. It was pretty cool.

Tifa entered the Goblin Bar; as it turned out, the name was fitting. The place was full of all manner of ghouls. It was a large room, with the bar an island in the middle. A band was playing a jaunty tune in the back.

At the bar, she recognized her target from the picture Biggs had taken during his brief employment at the reactor. His name was Donavon Rapps, manager of Reactor one for about fifteen years. He was a burly man somewhere in his forties with black hair, flecked with gray. His engineer uniform was unkempt, stained with oil, sweat, and grime, but his arms bulged with muscle gained from years of work.

Deciding to be subtle, Tifa sat across from him at the bar and ordered her favorite drink. Watching Rapps out of the corner of his eye, she sipped her drink. Three shot glasses sat next to his hand on the counter top, a good start. She caught his eye and threw him a charming smile. He grinned at her, making her stomach turn, and gestured for her to join him. Feeling more and more like a call girl, Tifa went to sit next to him. He smelled like oil and stale tobacco.

"Well pretty lady, Haven't seeen you hur before." He slurred, in a failed attempt at being suave. It was almost kind of funny, in a pathetic sort of way.

'It's been all fun and games until now,' she thought, trying to mentally prepare herself for the task ahead, 'But I'm a part of a guerilla anti-Shinra group; that is the reality of it and it's time to pay my dues.'

"I don't come here much, usually I'm out with the girls on nights like this." The lie came easily.

"Oh? What happened to them then?"

"They all had other plans." she said uncomfortably.

"Well, I'll keep ya company." Rapps said with a throaty voice that Tifa supposed was meant to be comforting-bordering-on-smooth.

She smiled and thanked him, trying to giggle in a flirting manner. 'Just smile and nod,' she told herself, 'Smile and nod.'

"What's yer name honey?"

"Erm- Natalie, Natalie Cromwell. Nice to meet you Mister. . .?

Rapps brow furrowed slightly, but he answered with a light tone, "Don Rapps, a pleasure."

They talked for a while, they got more drinks. Tifa began to feel a little light-headed, she tried to tip her glass in a nearby potted plant when she could.

"So," she hiccuped, "That's a Shinra uniform isn't it? Where do you work?"

That look returned to Rapp's face, but Tifa missed it. "Reactor one. I'm the manager in fact."

"Ooh, What a big responsibility!" Tifa exclaimed, far more comfortable with her role now. "Do you, like. . . oversee the other workers?"

"Yeah, that's one of things I do. I also do inspections, maintenance, stuff like that."

"I don't know how you do it, all that stuff that goes into making Mako sounds so difficult!"

"It's not that bad, you just have to be careful of the radiation."

"It's guys like you who make simple living possible for the rest of us." Tifa gushed, "It's like you carry the whole city on your shoulders!"

Rapps snorted, then said, "Hey, I could give you a tour of the facility if you want."

Tifa paused, remembering something from the past, "Isn't that against the rules?"

Rapps snorted again, "According to you, Shinra owes me a lot, I think they can live with a private tour."

Tifa thought for a moment, this was going well. A tour of the facility? She couldn't have asked for anything better.

"Sure, lead the way." she gestured towards the door. She assumed he would try to steer them towards his office, but she figured she could escape before they got that far.

He led her out of the bar and back around to the alleyway between the bar and LOVELESS theater, a well known short cut to the reactor. They started walking, she had her arm hooked around his. Tifa could see the top of the facility already. But when they were half way down the alley, her head suddenly connected with a hard surface. Stars erupted in front of her eyes, and she felt a sharp pain in her right shoulder. Then it dawned on her that he had twisted her arm behind her back and knocked her head against the brick wall of the bar.

"So, you think you're clever bitch?" snarled Rapps. "Well you sure fucked up big time didn't ya?"

Tifa felt him digging around in her handbag with his free hand; She had left her real I.D. at the Seventh Heaven, she had nothing that could compromise her identity. But she didn't have any materia either, fearing it would look suspicious if it were seen.

"Let me guess, you're from the new would-be AVALANCHE aren't you?" he didn't sound nearly as drunk as he'd acted a few minutes ago, he had duped her good.

"You know, they always tell ya in training that someone might try what you you're trying, never thought it's actually happen to me though. Well here's some good intel for ya: Natalie Cromwell is my ex-wife!

Tifa's face paled, "What!?"

"You should check your info more carefully when you use someone else's name- Ah-ha!" He pulled something out of her purse, a receipt of her pay stub from Seventh Heaven.

"Well, I think Shinra Security will be mighty interested in this!"

Shit, she had to get that back and warn the others. Tifa pushed off the wall, and elbowed him in the face. He grunted, "You bitch!"

She made a grab at the stub, and managed to tear off the section with her name. He was still holding her wrist though, causing her shoulder to become dislocated during the struggle.

She cried out in pain, her strength failed just long enough for Rapps to grab her by the back of the neck and slam her into the wall again. Her good arm was pinned against her stomach, the pain in her shoulder was made it impossible to muster up her considerable strength. But one hand was still free. Seeing a nearby sewer grate, Tifa crumpled up the bit of pay stub and tossed it in.

"Damn." Rapps growled, unable to try and catch it without letting her go, "You'll pay for that." He was shifting against her in a manner alien to her.

"What are you doing?" demanded Tifa, suddenly fearful.

"You sure are pretty. . ." the bastard cooed. "Nothing like my ex. . ."

"No." she whispered.

He didn't answer.

She heard the movement of fabric tearing.

"NO!"

The next day, 'Two Guns' of the Turks, flanked by Shinra Security, showed up in the Sector Seven slums.

In a rush, Clyde forced Barret and the others into the Lair and dived over the counter. He forced a detached look onto his face as they let themselves in. They showed him the torn receipt. Their 'informant' had not been able to see the name before the paper was torn.

"Do you have any idea what the turnover for this shit-hole is?" Barret had heard Clyde say, almost defiantly, "Every other day I see a new face; sometimes I have to throw them out myself, but more often than not I just never see them again! Maybe if everyone down here wasn't so caked in your filth I could at least tell who's who!"

When he refused to show them a list of his employees, they dragged him out into the street. The 'Two Guns' forced Clyde to his knees in the middle of the pseudo-village square, and put a bullet through the back of his head.

As a warning.

After that, the Turk left. But he left Security to watch the bar. Even so, somehow Jessie managed to sneak out.

Filled with determination and guilt, Jessie searched all of Midgar for Tifa. Eventually she found her, curled up in a ball outside an abandoned building in Sector Five. She had no recollection of how she got there, only that she had eventually passed out behind the bar. She would not speak of what had happened.

She only began to cry when she saw Clyde, still lying in his own blood and brains, in front of Seventh Heaven.

The bottle was empty. Tifa had the side of her head resting on the counter, her arms stretched out in front her with her hands dangling over the far end. She was awake, a jaded look was in her eyes.

Tifa didn't hold what happened against Barret nor Jessie and she didn't tell them either, though they seemed to suspect. She never told anyone.

She coped, knowing that Clyde had paid a far more hefty price than any of them. If anything about her demeanor changed though, it was that she could no longer open up to people. She wouldn't let herself be vulnerable like that ever again, she was afraid she'd crack if she did.

The failure of Tifa's mission was a huge setback for AVALANCHE. It was years before they could recover.

But eventually they got the info that they had sought, through different means, and they could carry out their plan to blow Reactor One to pieces.

Tifa couldn't help but feel a twisted kind of satisfaction when Barret returned from the mission and showed her the scrap of bloody fabric with the name tag still attached. . .

But that was not mattered to her. It was what had changed just before the mission began, Cloud had appeared in the city, seemingly from out of nowhere. He had joined them, fought for them, the mission may have failed it is was not for him.

Cloud's presence gave her hope again. Hope that there was one person in this world who she could let into her heart.

He was gone now. Their battles were won, the world saved, Shinra destroyed; but it was a hollow victory for her without Cloud. He had left the rebuilt bar some time ago. She knew he was alive, because calls for his delivery service continued to come, but that was all she knew for sure about his status.

There had been something between them near the end of their journey. He had shared his fears with her, and thought she knew why he left. She even understood to an extent. That didn't ease the pain of his absence though.

Just then the sound of a motorcycle cut across her morose thoughts. There was someone on a motorcycle had stopped in front of the bar!

She jumped off her stool and tore open the door. She skidded to a halt in the street. The person on the motorcycle was further down the road then she thought. She expected to see Cloud's distinctive golden hair, recognizable even from this far away, but it was not there. It wasn't Cloud.

Just then, the figure turned to look at her. She could not see him clearly, but he had long silver hair and she got the impression that he was smirking at her. Then he revved his bike and shot off around the corner.

Tifa sprinted to the end of the block, but he was long gone.

Could it be?

Confused and worried, Tifa walked back to the bar and cleaned up the remains of her breakfast. While she was doing the dishes, the phone started to ring. . .