Chapter 11

"…so then I ate like twenty-seven jelly donut holes. 'N afterward I thought that wasn' such a good idea, and I needed some… insulin or somethin'. But then 'Lena came in 'n… whined abou—"

Reno was interrupted by a great long yawn, so that by the end of it he apparently forgot that he was talking at all. He was still on Tifa's couch in her living room, and at this point neither of them knew what time it was. They both appeared to have developed a good tolerance to caffeine over the years, as the coffee had utterly failed them. So as the hours went by they sagged in their seats more and more, and their conversation by now had tapered off except for Reno's sporadic, not-so-very-profound stories.

Curled up in her own couch across from him, Tifa was vaguely aware of the situation herself. She struggled to keep her eyes open. "Reno."

"Unh."

"You should go home… you're fall'n asleep."

"You kiddi'me?" slurred the redhead, his chin nearly to his chest. "The night is young."

The sun was going to rise in two hours.

There was a mild, and all too brief, movement of frustration somewhere in her mind. Tifa had the fullest intention to get up and make him leave, but her drowsiness was to the point where she had difficulty remembering the fact. She was simply too comfortable where she was, and she unknowingly allowed sleep to close in around her.

He wasn't there when she woke up, a while later… somehow, as her mind unclouded, she knew that he hadn't left. So she pulled herself up and searched her apartment, dewy-eyed and stifling yawns.

He was sitting out on her fire escape, resting his head in the corner where the railings met, peering out over the faces of the buildings that still looked bare without the Shinra borders and flags. When she stepped out, he lifted his head; some wayward parts of his hair brushed back against the black metal bars as he turned to look at her.

"What's up," he said simply. His eyes were heavy-lidded but steady and clear.

Tifa settled down next to him, her long hair coming to brush over her upper arms. She realized that he had come out to smoke. "At least," she said, wishing she would stop feeling surreal about his presence, "you remembered to take it outside."

"Didn't realize how long it had been," he said, studying his cigarette. "Good thing there was at least one left in the pack, or I'd probably be gnawing on my shoe or somethin'."

The city spoke between them for a while. Tifa gazed a bit dreamily, as it was such an odd hour and she was feeling pretty out of it, herself. "Nicotine cravings woke you up?" she asked, falling back into the conversation.

"Nah," said Reno, easily. "It was a dream." He watched the morning begin to develop in the sky with no sun in sight. "He wouldn't believe he's dead. He never believes he's dead."

"Oh," said Tifa, and she cleared her throat. She was wary of her voice being so raw and finespun under the breeze. "Tseng?"

"It's really kinda stupid," he went on, as if to minimize it; there was no heaviness about him as much as the stars were dodged out of the sky. "And it's always the same. I just run into him and he acts all pleasantly surprised, like he's been alive all this time and there's nothing weird about disappearing for a year. I tell him he's dead, and he says, 'Of course I'm not dead!' Then I say I'm dreamin', and he denies that, too. But then he starts dancing the Macarena, or stealing somethin', so then I know I'm REALLY dreaming…"

She smiled briefly at the thought, hugging her knees and keeping quiet as she watched him. Reno had hardly spoken about anything remotely serious the whole time, much less volunteered this sort of information about himself… until now.

The sunrise was strange. The sky opened up and shone, but the buildings still left them in the dark. Reno took his last drag and sat leaning back now, staring thoughtfully into the skyline as if it had some contention for him. He unhinged his jaw in the slightest and the smoke was drawn out of his mouth like an unimpressed magic trick.

"It's just annoying, 'cause he never acknowledges that he's dead. And it happens all the time." He paused. "Is that weird?"

Tifa looked to him. "Well, do you think it means something?"

Reno rolled his head back and looked at her with the same bleariness, an earnest curve in the corner of his mouth. "My dreams never made any sense before…"

Maybe, she found herself thinking, it means that you have a hard time accepting that he's gone…

But she didn't say it.

Tifa kept her gaze on the first rays of the morning, sitting next to him, feeling strange that he was here at all, but secretly pleased that she wasn't the only one watching this time.

It continued like this in silence. When the first shafts stared him down from behind the skyscraper he stood up and announced that he should probably head home.

Tifa found that she didn't like seeing him go. She inwardly chastised herself for trying to think of any excuse for him to stay longer—she came so close to offering to make breakfast, because she knew he wouldn't turn it down. Am I THAT lonely? she thought, discouraged.

Her apartment was suddenly very quiet, but she was feeling more restless than tired. She went back to cleaning her kitchen, though if she meant to distract herself, it worked out very poorly for her: getting her hands wet again only reminded her of who interrupted her from finishing the dishes in the first place. Drawing the back of her wrist over her bangs, she snorted at the thought of Reno's ridiculous suggestion of how she should meet her friends again.

He was definitely… silly. With a huge proud streak, of course, but he was utterly harmless. She realized that the relatively short amount of time she'd spent with him was already rewriting the way she saw Reno of the Turks.

But the conversation on her fire escape… that was definitely interesting. Tifa had gathered that he was still in touch with Rude and Elena, but he never said anything else about them—that entire part of his life was sealed away from her. They were an esoteric, outwardly cool bunch and she really never considered how they related to each other or if they even cared if they lost one of their own. She realized now how silly that was, that if Reno was still having dreams about his late boss, there had to be some places in him that were perturbed by his death… he was affected by these things just like any human being.

To think she found him intimidating at first… he was so unmoved and inscrutable, and when he did get pushed enough—when she called him things that night which she now regretted—he only betrayed his bitterness. But she found that Reno was suddenly not such a mystery to her anymore.

Afterward Tifa sat down on her couch, placing her face in her hands and sighing. She wished she could talk to somebody. Her eyes stung and she knew she needed to get some sleep, but she didn't move from her place. As she found herself wondering for the umpteenth time what she was doing here and what she was holding out for… her doorbell rang.

Somehow, she found herself stiffening, temporarily immobilized. There was something she feared about it.

It couldn't possibly have been Reeve. It definitely wasn't Reno again.

Apparently Tifa spent too long deliberating, because the knob rattled—and finding it unlocked, her guest let himself in.

She had gotten up from the couch and started her way to the door when it flew open, and she had frozen in place as Vincent and Yuffie filed into her apartment. An odd strangled moment hung in the air as they stared at her and she stared at them and she tried to muster some not-flimsy and not-sheepish way to say hello.

"Tifa!"

The ninja was narrowly beaten by the ex-Turk to be the first to sweep the poor girl into a slightly desperate half-metal hug.

"Oh…" Finding the side of her face pressed into his chest, Tifa reached up with her freer arm and awkwardly patted his shoulder blade. "I… missed you, too, Vincent."

"My turn, MY turn!" Yuffie yanked at his tattered cape impatiently until he acquiesced with a silent rolling of his eyes.

As she found herself embracing her friends for the first time too long, Tifa suddenly felt that she wanted to break apart. Their absence from her life the past few months hit her all at once and she knew she wasn't strong enough to handle this; she wanted to fall in and hug them back because they were familiar and they were friends, and she didn't want to be away anymore.

Yuffie let go and she stepped back, feeling that she was increasingly becoming more and more of a wreck. She knew what they would say next and her heart dropped before they even said it.

"Tifa… you're coming home with us."

One of the things that Reno really loved about his job was that he did not have to be awake for it until the evening. When he considered how he couldn't be any less of a morning person, he offhandedly remembered that he'd learned very quickly not to oversleep back in the Shinra days. Whenever he did, Tseng personally came into his apartment and yanked him out of bed by his hair.

A memory like this in passing ordinarily would have annoyed him, but it slid over his fatigued mind as he dumped himself onto his bed. Sometimes it was easy not to think.

He woke up several hours later, famished but not encouraged by what was in his fridge, so he decided to deal with it when he left home. It wasn't until he got his shower out of the way that he could clearly think about this morning at Tifa's, which already felt like yesterday.

He'd let some things slip that he would rather not have. She was different from everyone outside of the Turks in that she knew he was one, but that didn't mean she had to know his life story. He realized, though, that bothering Tifa was pretty fun. Outside of work, his life was just too boring… and for the moment, he wanted as few opportunities to see Rude and Elena as possible. It had been an admittedly weird but sufficient way to spend his night.

She was amusing, too—in a very unassuming way that he liked on her. But Reno found it hard to forget that she branded him that night he drove her home. Some moments it really struck him, as it did once last night—especially when she was smiling and it seemed possible that she didn't find him so detestable. If he were honest with himself, it really bothered him that she thought so poorly of him…… and it bothered him that it bothered him at all…

Last night still loomed over his head, and that mostly was why he kept his phone off… the ringer always seemed even more shrill and annoying when it was Elena calling every half hour. But he knew them and he knew that he wouldn't be left alone for long, and it turned out just that way.

Rude was apparently not with her, though he heard her high heels in his kitchen. Then the slight rustle of clothing was in the doorway of his bathroom.

Reno didn't react to her arrival, though he saw in the slightly fogged mirror that Elena was leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed, blonde head tilted, eyeing him in calmly critical way. "Odd time of day to be shaving," she said breezily. "So! How hungover are you?"

With a heavy, steady hand, Reno turned on the faucet. He rinsed and dried his face.

He knew Elena could read his lines, and she immediately changed her tune. "Sorry," she said, and watched him turn away from her to finish buttoning his shirt. She seemed to hesitate a moment, probably readying herself for a more diplomatic approach. "Reno… are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said in a closed tone. "Leave me alone."

"Is there anything you… need to talk about?"

"No."

"Are you upset?"

"No."

"Do you need anything?"

"No," said Reno, his head dropping slightly. "Go away." A long, quiet moment passed, and he sensed that she was still there. "Make me a sandwich."

She smiled then, reassured, stepping toward him. It seemed awkward to muster, but came out easier once she started: "Reno, I just want you to know that… we're here for you, all right?"

He looked sideways at his own profile in the mirror, his eyes growing wide in alarm because Elena was doing what she had never done in their entire past together as Turks: she was giving him a hug.

That night found Reno at work again, the part of his day he looked forward to now more than ever. In a lot of ways, it was as if his life didn't start until evening.

The Jukebox had not yet filled up, and all he saw at the bar, regrettably, was the back of Dragen's messy black head. "Tifa here?" he asked when he arrived.

"Nope."

He watched him, blinking several times. "What're you doing… waiting for her?" scoffed the redhead (who seemed to not recognize that he was doing just that, himself). "Have you got some more classical poetry to recite?"

Dragen was smug, not allowing himself to be affected by his jibes. "I don't see her hugging you," he said, referring to Tifa's little burst of gratefulness after he covered for her when Vincent and Yuffie came looking.

Reno gaped at him, no less derisive. "Are you… BRAGGING?" He had a good laugh over that one. "C'mon… when has she actually shown interest in anyone who's NOT that dress-wearing, bed-headed would-be boyfriend of hers?"

He let that part slip, and Dragen looked at once alarmed and tremendously confused. "Did you—did you just say… 'dress-wearing?'"

But just then she entered the Jukebox. Both men stood upright when she came around behind the bar.

Reno nodded to her. "Hey, Tifa—"

"Hey, Tifa," Dragen said even louder.

"Hey," she said simply, and to his surprise. There was nothing stern or stiff about her except in the slightest way, how her cheeks were barely sucked in as if she were holding something back. She looked to him as if she were going to say something else, but then looked at Dragen and seemed to decide against it.

Thoroughly curious by now, Reno leveled his gaze on her but she wouldn't turn one back.

He couldn't wait for closing time.

In Which the Author Refrains From Saying Really Horrible Things About Herself:

...uh. Aherm. Yes. So, that whole finish-by-graduation thing was a miserable failure. I know, I'm a sad individual. This story's three-year anniversary is... actually, in a couple of days, and it's maddening to me. My ideas are so old it's ridiculous... I'm DYING to bring this thing full-circle.

And there's really not a whole lot left... I don't think this story is going to reach twenty chapters. I worked on chapter 12 alongside this one (it's... very strange to flit between two installments, I wouldn't recommend it) and it's half done, and... I guess I feel like I really need to redeem myself. So that will be out relatively soon.

I have spent so long on this chapter that I really have lost all perspective, so I apologize if it's crummy. I wound up smooshing together two chapters that were just going to be boring filler (and even still there's a lot of lame introspection), and some stuff from this chapter will be explained a little better in the next.

Sheesh. As disillusioned as I sometimes get with this thing, I can't let it go. A lot of you guys have really been awesome for how this story has been puttering away, even if this's a new record for me. Ugh... sorry.