Chapter Two – Cinderella and Prince Charming
The girl who seemed unbreakable, broke.
She dropped a fake smile and whispered to herself,
"I can't do this anymore."
-Anonymous
It was close to midnight, Tifa guessed, and she was still waiting for a cab to drive by. She was drenched and shivering by the curb outside the kickboxing gym. Mist rose from her body, and it held her attention. Her gym bag was, mercifully, waterproof. This was the only thing she knew to do. This was the only way she knew how to paint the town in her color. She liked to imagine beating up Cloud from time to time. Tonight she had spent four hours releasing her pent up anger towards her incredibly insensitive partner, trying to convince herself that he'll come around soon. But she just couldn't fool herself any longer. Their status was already beyond saving, and already too ridiculous. A pair of lights flashed and she held out her arm. "Where to, Miss?" the cabbie asked her, taking in her mussed up appearance. She smiled as she slid into the backseat, and then told him how to get to her townhouse. The windows immediately began to fog. While they waited for the traffic light to go green, Tifa drew chocobos chasing a human chocobo on the window. A slow rock song was playing in the radio, but Tifa only heard the faint melody over her thoughts.
Her hair slapped hard against her face when she sprinted from the cab to her foyer. If it hadn't been for some jerk's sleek car parked in her curb, she wouldn't have had to run. She heard the cab idling as the driver waited for her to get inside safely. She discarded her gym bag on the entry way and headed straight to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the lights. She didn't want to see anything, because if she did, she would be reminded of Cloud, and she would get lonely. Again.
She tugged her shirt off then threw it on the tiled floor. It landed with a soggy thump. She had thought that keeping herself active was going to help her keep the sadness at bay. But it wasn't doing much of a job.
Hearing the water running, slapping against the tub's ceramic, Tifa tried to steady herself, palms firmly pressed against the sink. Tifa stared at her naked body in the mirror. Watched her pink flecks crawl from her neck to her pale cheeks. In the dim light from outside, she traced her features, tried to control the tears that threatened to fall.
Stay safe.
When was the last time he'd said that he loved her?
He didn't even say it to her the day he left.
Never did he tell her that he missed her.
Tifa's face crumpled and she heard the bathtub overflowing.
"Director, Guardian Angel, please respond," Elena's voice hissed from the PHS's tiny speakers. Tseng stopped reading a mission report and picked up the phone. He was still in the headquarters, since Rufus insisted on finishing his work before leaving. Both men knew that that wasn't really going to happen, but who was Tseng to tell the boss to stop, when millions of people depended on the man? It was highly unlikely that the President was going to listen anyway. "Guardian One, go ahead."
"Sir, Cinderella has come home."
"I see." Tseng said. "Were you able to identify where she came from?"
"Cinderella was carrying a gym bag, Sir."
"Perform location sweep, Guardian Angel, and you may go home."
"Yes Sir."
He let out a sigh of relief. Tifa had not gone home immediately after she clocked out, and it alarmed Tseng slightly. But he must give the woman the benefit of the doubt. Surely, the woman had a life of her own beyond being the President's secretary. He had been tempted to send Elena scouring the metro for her, but thought better of it. The young Turk wasn't as able as Reno and Rude, she still had a lot to learn. He made her wait for Cinderella to come home instead. It had been a long, dull wait.
It was interesting to know that Cinderella was going to the gym. It helped explain her lithe physique. The tidbit of information riled up his curiosity further. What kind of woman was Tifa Lockhart, exactly? Why did President Rufus pick her, instead of the thousand women who desperately pined for him? The information on the woman's CV was never going to suffice.
From Tifa's CV, Tseng discovered that she'd gone to prestigious schools ever since she'd been a child, and that she was an only child. Her family owned the popular Mt. Nibel inn – which assured him that the woman wasn't exactly poor. But honestly, everyone's annual income would seem relatively meager when set beside the Shinra fortune. She'd been born 03 May 1987, making Rufus five years older than her. There wasn't anything special on the girl's CV, but he shouldn't be judging the apple of the boss's eye just from it.
"Director, you have a call from the President's office," his secretary told him when he picked up the landline.
"Thank you, Anita." Tseng said nonchalantly, waiting for the secretary to connect Rufus. "Is anything the matter, President?"
"You know why I'm calling. Has she come home yet?" Rufus asked, impatience heavily lacing his voice.
"Yes, President, Elena said she just home. She was apparently in a gym of some sorts."
Rufus chuckled. "I see. Have the car ready, Tseng. I'm done for the day."
Finally.
"Of course, President." Tseng said before the President ended the call.
Tifa sat there on the freezing floor, heaving shaky breaths. It felt as though her breathing rattled her very bones. Her back was leaning on the wall, supporting her. Droplets continued to fall from the faucet and the tiny dripping sounds were magnified by her silence. She felt as though, if she spoke, she would break again. In the end, she never managed to put herself in the bathtub. Because when she stood over the tub, all she could think of was lying there and holding her breath.
As her ragged breath ebbed away to give way to her usual rhythm, Tifa felt extremely ridiculous. Pathetic, even.
The constant pain her body still lingered over her, but she felt numb at the same time.
It was 2 A.M., she learned when she walked into the kitchen. She had tied a bathrobe to her waist and boiled water for tea. Then she sat on the breakfast counter, toying with an orange. How could she sleep now? She was aching for consolation that would never ever come. It hurt her more that somewhere out there, beyond her darkened home, Cloud was asleep, dreaming of someone else entirely. Her nails dug into the orange, releasing its zest, letting its tang assault her senses. She was alive. She has a life. And she had wasted too much of it. Her brows furrowed as she thought back on how many times she had sacrificed her own happiness for his. He did not love her enough to stop her. She wasn't mad – no, she was just plain disappointed. Yes, that was what she was feeling – simple, unadulterated disappointment. "I should have known," she said lowly. Perhaps it would be better if he had simply broken up with her the very day he returned from the funeral. Why did he keep her, if he wasn't willing to be with her? "I should have known that you'd choose a memory over me." Beads of orange juice raced down from her hands. The kettle whistled, announcing itself.
Fortunately, the day beginning before Tifa Lockhart and her steaming mug was Sunday. She already had her day planned.
She was going to be in bed, ignoring everything, all day.
Best plan ever.
Apparently, some people did not understand what Sundays were for.
Tifa was very happily buried in her blanket, until her PHS began ringing. Glaring at the ceiling, Tifa chanted to herself: 'That's bound to be Cloud. Ignore, ignore, ignore!' She steeled herself on the bed as the phone shrieked, shrieked, and shrieked. No, she was ignoring everything today. Honestly, that man didn't know how to respect time. It was six in the morning, what the hell was up with him? Jerk, jerk, jerk, you fucked up jerk! She smiled exultantly when the phone stopped ringing. And then it went off again. It was odd. Cloud never rang twice – his calls were like falling stars, you blink and miss. Tifa chewed her bottom lip. Close your eyes, don't feel, don't answer the phone! Tifa covered her head with a pillow.
It kept going off every time before Tifa could let out a sigh of relief.
And now she was sitting up, scowling. That was not Cloud. It definitely wasn't. But who else would call? Her friends had stopped keeping in touch with her after she let Cloud leave. It was mostly her fault – she had shut them out, snapped at them when they tried to reason with her about him. She thought that she was better off without them anyway. She wanted them back. It began to ring again, and this time, Tifa snatched it without hesitation. Doubt seeped into her as she stared at the PHS screen, telling her that the caller wasn't in her registry. She hadn't given her number to anyone – ah, maybe it was one of those boys who send randomly dial numbers and hope for the best that the one they're calling was a horny idiot too. "Nope," she said as she turned her PHS off.
"She turned her phone off." Rufus snarled, tossing his PHS to the space next to Tseng in the couch. A leather binder rested on the Turk Director's lap. It was all the information the Turks had managed to gather that night – her phone records, which, were honestly not as any of them had expected, a more detailed background profile courtesy of Rude who had gone out of his way to call the girl's parents, and a dozen long range telephoto shots of her. It seemed to them as if the woman the President had chosen to marry wasn't living a life of her own at all. Tseng watched his boss pace, then said tonelessly, "What would you expect? She might have thought you were a prank caller of some sort."
The President's pale blue glare found him and Tseng felt like flinching ever so slightly. "It's common sense to answer a call. I've had enough of this. Tell Elena to be alert. I'm going to talk to Tifa." He grabbed his white coat and began storming out of the room. "Why her, Rufus?" Tseng asked, stopping Rufus from storming out of his room. It was a rare occasion for Tseng to address him by his first name. "You could have a socialite, a better match, to act as your wife, and yet you choose this nobody."
"She's not a simple nobody, Tseng." Rufus replied calmly. "She's got the pedigree. She might appear to be a commoner, but her family's got a good name. You have done a good job of keeping me in the dark about my family's standing with the public, Tseng, but I must say…your efforts weren't good enough." He laughed then walked out.
A quiet groan escaped the Turk.
Elena's vehicle was already parked in front of Tifa's townhouse. Tseng parked behind it. "For a tiny living space, it's almost adorable," Rufus mused, rolling down his window slightly for a better view. The cars the immediate Shinra family used were armored sedans, for the most obvious reason. Daimler, Shin-Ra's ServAuto division, prided itself in crafting beautiful, but superior automobiles and vehicles for consumer and military use. The President's gift from his mother had been this car. The entire auto had been outfitted with nano-resin that could deter anything from the classic bullet to military-grade projectiles, its fuel tank would self-seal, the entire dashboard had been outfitted with air-pillows – much better than the ancient airbag, and if ever the assailant would manage to infiltrate the car, the air conditioning system would secrete an artificially synthesized version of tetrodotoxin, which would paralyze a perpetrator's central nervous system. The President's mother didn't show her affections to her son very often, but when she did, she did so grandly. There wasn't another car like it. Rufus liked the car simply because it wasn't gaudy, like the pA-86. It was coated in platinum.
"It was her birthday present from her parents," Tseng informed the younger man.
Rufus eyed the townhouse and nodded. "That was generous of them. But couldn't they have afforded her something better? She doesn't even have a lawn." The President almost sounded bothered.
"Director, Guardian Angel, please respond," came Elena's garbled voice.
Tseng connected the PHS to his earpiece. "Guardian Angel, what's the status?"
"No sign of Cinderella. She might be sleeping in."
Rufus's brow shot upwards. "But she was able to turn off her phone."
"Director, may I ask why you are here?" the lady Turk queried.
Tseng glanced at Rufus, who wasn't very helpful. "Prince Charming wanted to scold Cinderella for not answering his calls, but I suppose he's had a change of heart." the Director said nonchalantly, enjoying the annoyance spreading through the President's face. "Moving out now. Stay put, Guardian Angel."
"Yes Sir."
Rufus was glaring daggers at the ammo-proof glass window the entire ride back home.
But as Tseng was parking the car in the garage bay, Rufus said quietly, "I ought to shoot you for those stupid codenames."
The Wutai cracked a grin. "Elena had suggested the codenames. I wanted to go with something like Red Riding Hood and Big, Bad Wolf."
"I would have liked the Big, Bad Wolf better."
"Noted, President." Tseng said as they got out of the car.
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading, stranger!
I especially liked creating Rufus's car on this one.
Also, my warmest hugs to those who reviewed on the first chapter! Thanks for coming out and saying hi! :)
I wanted to re-create the character of Tifa in this fic... because in the '11 version, she was too miserable and clingy. I wanted to write stronger character. She doesn't have a sister any more, but I hope I did the re-write character of Tifa here justice. This is one of the many changes I want to do in this story. Hehe.
If you liked this update... please let me know. Reviews can unlock longer chapters.
You can also tell how I suck and can go to hell.
Your call.
Shotgunning outta here,
Victoria Chrystallis
