Maroon boots scrambled from room to room, to behind the bar, back to the pantry, then back again to the bar.

A phone rang in a corner.

Dammit.

The footsteps bounded from one end of the bar to the other and Tifa quickly picked up the phone, nearly dropping at as she pressed it against her ear and held it in place with her shoulder. "…Hello?"

She rummaged through bottles behind her counter, shaking each one gently to measure how much was left before quietly cursing to herself as she listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. Something, something, a late shipment, something else…

"I don't think you understand, I'm almost out of everything, and it's pouring outside. There's no way that the trains are going to keep running in a heavy storm—" The other half of the conversation rambled on and on, something about how it was 'guaranteed today', maybe a few other things. Who knew? Tifa sighed, letting out a frustrated laugh as she tried with every ounce of willpower in her body to not reach through the phone and throttle her supplier through the phone. This was his third time this month being late on an order, and she was nearly out of stock on everything behind the bar. Even lower shelf items were running dangerously low, and she wasn't about to shut the bar down until a new delivery came in. If she had to, she would buy the alcohol out of her own pocket—because anything was better than closing and losing valuable customers due to a simple shortage of supplies.

Besides, this job was the only thing that could take her mind off of the things she saw and the people she encountered once night fell.

"…Fine. Yeah, yeah. I know. I'll meet you there at five," Tifa rolled her eyes and hung the phone back up, sighing once more as she threw several empty liquor bottles into the trashcan at the end of the bar and pulled out a concealed drawer, hidden beneath the beer taps. Shoving a bag of gil into the pocket of her skirt and wiping her hands on her thighs, she hurried flipped the door sign from 'open' to 'closed', checked her pockets one last time for her keys, and headed out into the bustle of Sector 7.

People were everywhere. There was no escaping it. The Slums were already congested, and the constant ShinRa militia presence didn't do much to help it. You were constantly bumping elbows—there was simply no other way to get to where you needed to be without nearly plowing over a few people in the process. But seeing as her alcohol delivery wasn't coming for another two hours, she figured that maybe she would take her time for once. Sector 7 wasn't necessarily the nicest place by any means, especially considering there was no blue sky to ever look at—not even rain trickled down from the plate most of the time. But it was full of all kinds of people with all kinds of lives; many of these people ran small shops on the side of the walkways in hopes that someone would come along and buy something. These people were trying to make a living, too. Tifa knew that she had been fortunate enough to come into contact with a man a few years back who was already running a bar—a bar that now belonged to her. Opportunities such as that were scarce down here anymore. Most of the people beneath the plate could never make enough to even afford to live in the Slums; therefore, Tifa had sometimes taken it upon herself to purchase something that she had no use for whatsoever in hopes that she could improve someone's life. It was the least she could do; many of these people were loyal customers of hers.

"Excuse me, Miss!"

A booming voice caught her attention, and she quickly turned to find an older shopkeeper, frantically waving his arms in her direction as he stood behind his booth. A grin spread across his face, and he motioned for her to come closer. Fighting against the current of the crowd, Tifa approached him cautiously, returning a small smile as she inspected the various trinkets he had spread out across his booth. Necklaces, bracelets, anklets, ribbons for hair laid scattered across the table before her and she ran a finger over several items, inspecting their authenticity. Some looked fake, some real. It was not uncommon for counterfeit items to be sold down here; most shopkeepers were not ever even aware of their counterfeit products. Tifa's gaze met his, and she smiled gently. "…Can I help you with anything?"

The haggard man quickly pointed to a small black box in the corner of the table, still grinning. His voice was loud and confident. "I think that these would look fabulous on you, Miss," He opened the small box to reveal a small pair of diamond earrings, glittering in the dim light that leaked through the plate above. He held the box for Tifa to take, but was declined with the gentle push of a hand.

"No, thank you. I already have enough pairs of those," Tifa laughed softly, raising a hand to her left ear and absent-mindedly tugging on a silver tear-drop. They had been her mother's, and she had no interest in wearing any others. It was all she had left.

One of her few remaining tangible memories of home—maybe the last one, for that matter.

Slowly, the barmaid stepped back from the table and gave the shopkeeper a bright smile as she began to turn the other way. "Some of these are very nice. Maybe I'll stop back on the way home if I have time," She turned her back to him before he could convince her to buy another item; she didn't like doing that because he seemed so kind but she didn't have enough money for that right now, even if she did want some unnecessary piece of jewelry.

And so she continued on. Tifa kept her eyes locked forward, carelessly making her way towards the train station as her mind wandered to far off places. She could hear the occasional call for her attention, whether it be from shopkeepers looking to sell or men who couldn't keep their eyes from wondering on her figure. She had gotten used to that. If being a bar tender had taught her anything, it was to never take what overly-confident patrons said about her seriously.

She remembered the sky, and how it was so bright and blue back home. There was hardly ever a cloud in the sky—birds never ceased in their chirping, and the chatter of her neighbors never-ending. She hadn't seen a sky like that in a long time, but hoped that maybe one day she'd get the chance to again. She had been up on the plate a few times with Barret and the others, but yet the sky was nowhere near as vibrant as it had been in Nibelheim. Maybe someday.

Before she knew it, nearly an hour had ticked by since she had set out for the train station. Tifa hurried her way past masses of blue-collar workers to the main platform in hopes that maybe—just maybe—her delivery would be a little early today. The faster she could get all of this stupid liquor, the faster she could retreat back to the safety and silence of her little bar. And maybe sleep a little before she went out with Barret for the night. Tonight was supposed to be an important one—they were going to try and dismantle parts of ShinRa's online security systems by taking out the terminals. Barret said that he had another assault planned in a few days to follow up on this one, but there was no telling what that would be.

Regardless, Tifa wanted nothing more than to sit in silence for just five minutes at the moment.

She sat down at a bench at the terminal, letting out a huff through her nostrils before resting her head against the cool concrete behind her. The bar had been crazy the past few days; tonight was probably going to be yet another night where business was booming and the constant conversing with customers never stopped. She loved talking to people; she had the privilege of working somewhere where the people were so diverse, but sometimes it was all too much. The thought of pretending to be interested in yet another sob story narrated by a drunken, middle-aged man was not appealing in the slightest and in fact, made her gag a little. She lifted her head once more and her ruby eyes opened, sparking in the yellow station lights. The traffic was beginning to die down a little now that several trains had left, carrying away hundreds and hundreds of people in the process.

A half hour went by.

All hope that her delivery would come early were quickly fading.

Tifa slowly rose from the bench, stretching her arms to the sky and twisting to crack her back as she examined the train schedule. She had told the supplier the correct time, right?

Her leather boots creaked as she wandered about the terminal, her head occasionally turning to peer down dark alleyways or to inspect old vending machines containing candy bars that had most likely long-since expired. Old flyers littered the ground; some were looking for lost pets, others for missing people. Those were the saddest. Often times, they were children that had probably been swept away by a stranger in the chaos of the train station. The adults were people that had maybe left their families in hopes of finding a better life elsewhere. Tifa wondered where many of the people she had known were, now. She had lost many of the people she had cared about over the past several years; the thought made her throat and eyes burn.

She resolved to sitting back down, this time on a bench closer to where her supplier claimed to be meeting her. He should be here any moment, now.

Five minutes ticked by. Then ten. Maybe fifteen. She grew slightly agitated, as indicated by the picking of the skin around her fingernails. It was a bad habit she had when she was anxious or frustrated; this was probably the reason that she had never bothered to get her nails done. Again, she rose to her feet and wandered aimlessly once more. Several homeless people waggled tin cans in front of her face in hopes that she had some gil to spare. She ignored them.

A half hour went by. Trains came and went, but yet no familiar faces got off onto the platform.

For Gaia's sake, she had contemplated borrowing someone's cell phone, simply so she could scream to her heart's content at her supplier. What good was he to her if he couldn't even get her products to her, days late anyways?

After asking a few passerbys, a young mother with an infant strapped to her chest finally allowed Tifa to borrow her phone. Quickly, she punched the all-too-familiar number into the keypad and held the phone up to her ear, ready for a confrontation. She was usually nice and tried to be understanding of his convoluted situations, so this side of Tifa would most likely be a shock. She didn't care, though. She just wanted to go home.

It went to voicemail.

She tried again, smiling uncomfortably as the mother did not seem very pleased with the continued lease of her phone. After several failed attempts at reaching her acquaintance, Tifa dejectedly handed the phone back and thanked the mother before heading off into the opposite direction, back towards Sector 7.

I'm going to kill him when I get my hands on him.

Tifa was seething now. Between clenched teeth, she stifled the urge to scream at the top of her lungs. Now, her bar was going to have to remain closed until she could figure out where she could get large amounts of alcohol at a fairly cheap bulk rate. Maybe Wedge or Jesse knew someone—she would have to ask when she got back to the Seventh Heaven…the brush of someone against her shoulder snapped her attention back to her path of motion, her eyes quickly scanning the area for her supplier once last time.

She felt a fuzzy warmth push past her calves, startling her. She looked down. A small terrier dog sniffed her briefly before rushing off, back towards the direction of the platform. The station security had those dogs trained to sniff out bombs and other weapons—she had noticed that security around the terminal was heightened, most likely due to the recent attacks AVALANCHE had been making on ShinRa's reactors and computer systems…the idea that ShinRa may be looking for her made her nervous. She could see the brown blur sneaking its way through the crowd, now followed by a red-suited train guard with a baton in hand. The pair made their way to a lump on the ground, presumably a hobo with nowhere else to go but wherever the train took them. Tifa watched as the guard poked the heap with a baton, which slightly stirred at the touch. But they didn't move. Or acknowledge the guard at all, for that matter. Tifa made her way closer, cautious as to not reveal too much of her personal features. But as she came closer, she realized that this guard was in no way interested in her; he was interested in moving this bum off of the platform.

"What's the matter?" She could hear the guard ask the young man repeatedly, prodding him further with the tip of his baton. It did nothing to provoke the man to move, let alone cause him to at least lift his head in acknowledgement. A large, silver sword sat at his side, gleaming in the yellow lighting. The terrier sniffed it before it continued its incessant barking—a noise that Tifa had become all too used to, down here in the Slums.

She came even closer, the tip of her boots touching the edge of his weapon. The dog moved out of her path, yet continued its yapping as if it expected that to be the noise to snap the young man out of his stupor.

Probably drunk…

She had dealt with enough drunks in her lifetime to know that they often hung around the train stations, waiting for a loved one or a friend to pick them up and take them home. But this guy didn't look drunk. He didn't smell like it, anyways.

"…Poor kid."

Tifa looked back to the red-clad guard. He was shaking his head slowly, biting his lip as he turned away and sulked off, probably off to find something else to preoccupy the rest of his shift with. She knelt down in front of the man, her voice soft as she carefully spoke to him. "…Are you alright?"

He let out few words that made sense—mostly just garbled moans with strange syllables. She reached out to gently lift his chin, only to have him flinch away suddenly as if in pain. He whimpered; he sounded like nothing more than a lost and confused child. It hurt her to see someone in such a sorry state.

What was wrong with him?

Tifa quickly retracted her hand, frowning as she had feared she had harmed him with the simple touch of some fingers.

Suddenly, the man lifted his eyes. Beneath brittle blonde tufts of hair were brilliant blue—nearly green—eyes. Glowing directly at her. "…Tifa…?"

How did he know her name? She slowly nodded.

"Tifa…Tifa?" He repeated the name several times, almost as if to reassure himself that that was her name. He cringed again, squeezing his eyes shut.

"That's me…"

In an instant, the young man rose to his feet as if he hadn't been in any pain at all. "Tifa!" He sounded surprised, as if finding an old friend.

Tifa took a long few moments to take in the features of this new character. Pale skin, almost too pale—with those radiating eyes and unkempt blonde hair that flew out in every direction…his uniform was a familiar one. A large bronze belt with the SOLDIER First Class emblem stamped across it, and worn leather gloves that looked like they were in dire need of replacing. Her head slowly turned to one side, her stomach twisting in both horror and excitement as she pieced his ensemble together. It couldn't be. Not after this long…

What-

"Cloud!" Her ruby eyes met his sapphire ones, and she smiled. Her heart leapt in her chest, and suddenly she felt maybe just a bit faint.

I thought you were gone…

"That's right," He gave her a strange, affirmative nod. "I'm Cloud." He took his sword in hand, twisting it by the handle so that the tip of its blade scraped against the concrete. It was an odd statement indeed, but almost one that didn't necessarily surprise Tifa. Cloud had never been much of one for eloquent words.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Is it really you? I didn't think I would find you here, in all places…" Her gaze continued to wander over his form, admiring his changed physique. But something didn't seem quite right.

He gave her a small shrug. "It's been a while."

She drew closer, studying the features on his face. With heavy eyelids and sunken cheekbones, he didn't look like he had been eating well recently. Or showered. Or slept. Her face grew somber and she bit her lip. "You don't look very well, Cloud."

"It's okay…" He averted his gaze from hers and turned his face away slightly to avoid further prodding. "It's nothing. I'm alright."

"How long has it been? It must have been forever ago…" She shooed the dog away at her feet, who whimpered softly as it pranced off. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet; the last time that she had seen him was when Sephiroth was in Nibelheim...

Cloud cooly leaned against his sword, flicking a piece of stray hair from his face. "Five years? Five years."'

That didn't sound right, but who was she to try and count the years? They had all seemed to blend together, after all. She sighed softly, flashing a gentle smile. "It has been a long time."

The two watched each other in silence, bouncing uncomfortably from foot to foot for several minutes until Tifa finally spoke. Sometimes the silence was more deafening than sound itself.

"Why don't you come back to my place? We have a lot of catching up to do," She motioned for him to come closer, but he declined.

"I don't…I don't think that's a good idea."

She outstretched a hand, her fingers dancing in a gesture that indicated she wanted his hand in return. "Come on, Cloud. You can at least get a shower in, and some food in you. You look awful…" She craned her neck to inspect his backside, which looked unscathed aside from the dirt-covered slacks. "You can rest up. You don't have to stay, if you don't want to…" Her voice trailed off as her face softened, before a reassuring smile spread across her face once more. "I have some friends I'd like for you to meet. They're good people. But…you don't have to, if you don't want to."

He stared at Tifa for a long while, those luminous eyes boring holes into her. He continued to shift apprehensively from one side to the other, his muscles tensing and relaxing before he reluctantly took her hand and allowed her to lead him away. His grip was weaker than she had imagined; whatever he had been through, it must have really taken a toll on him.

They approached the gate leading into the main Sector, the lights of the station fading behind them. Before long, they were making their way through shops, many of which were now closing for dinner time. Tifa watched as Cloud seemed to take it in, his tired eyes scanning every bit of the gloomy scenery. They passed the shop that the older gentleman had stopped her at earlier. He was nowhere to be seen; his goods now gone and most likely packed somewhere safely with him.

Soon, the pair found themselves face-to-face in front of the Seventh Heaven. A heap of old metal and wood, it was a sore sight to take in and it didn't stand out much against any of its surroundings. Tifa quietly unlocked the door, frowning as she was quickly reminded of the lack of alcohol in her possession. It was going to have to wait a few more days, it seemed. Oh well.

"This is my home," She allowed Cloud to enter first, her arm outstretched in welcome. "My bar, really. But I live here, too."

He said nothing, but silently inspected his surroundings. His sword rested against the wall beside the door, and he quietly studied the pictures on the wall. Not one familiar to him. His fingers carefully brushed some of the old photos. A large man with an odd gun on his arm, a young girl maybe a few years younger than them with a red bandana wrapped tightly around her mess of hair. Two other men around the same age who had their own variations of odd weapons; all sharing the same trait. A wide grin on their faces. Tifa was in a few of them, but not many—Cloud could only assume that maybe she had been the one taking the pictures.

He jumped when a pair of arms unexpectedly slid beneath his arms and met at the center of his chest. Dark hair tickled his biceps, and he felt a head rest cautiously against the small of his back.

Tifa. He felt her shaking slightly. She was crying.

"I thought that you were gone. I…I hadn't heard from you in so long…" She laughed softly, sniffling as her grip on his midsection tightened ever so slightly. "I'm so glad to see you again, Cloud."

He remained unnaturally still for several more moments until he brought himself to touch her bare arms with a rough, worn glove. "It's good to see you again, too." His weary voice was barely above a whisper, and he turned in her hold to face her. A faint smile graced his sallow face. "It's good to see you again, too, Tifa," Cloud closed his eyes as he felt her weight fall against him just a little more, as if she were finally trusting that he was actually standing there with her. His arms deliberately came around to encircle her loosely, as if afraid to damage her in any way.

Maybe he, too, thought that this wasn't actually happening. But the welcome feeling of her touch indicated otherwise.

And if that was the case, then perhaps they just wanted to both keep dreaming a little longer.

Tifa lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes pleading with his. "Stay, please."

"...Okay."