Chapter 11: Inviting Trouble

All Tseng could see in the darkening room was his boss' silhouette against the massive window, statuesque in the light of the setting sun. He knocked hesitantly on the open door.

"Come in," Rufus said without turning around. He was wearing his stark white suit, staring out over the grounds of Hubble House with his hands clasped behind his back. It was a familiar pose. He had always liked to look down at the people he ruled. In every incarnation of Rufus' office, he'd had a big window put in behind his desk. When the lighting was right, it cast his face in shadow and shone like a spotlight on the face of the person on the other side of the desk. Tseng suspected this was part of the reason Rufus insisted on the layout.

"Sir? An interesting report came across my desk today."

Rufus flipped his hair and turned around to face his employee. "Oh? And you came to deliver it personally? It must be interesting."

There was an edge of sarcasm to his tone, but Tseng ignored it. "Yes. I think it's started."

He had his boss' attention now. Rufus sat down at the desk, his face a somber mask. "Already?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "How far along are our little soldiers?"

Tseng remained standing. "Nowhere near ready, sir. Chuck has developed several of their abilities, but none have reached weaponizing phase yet."

Rufus scowled. "I'm still not convinced that his gentle approach is effective enough. It almost makes me wish for the days of that sadistic freak."

"Sir, Professor Hojo was—"

"I know, I know." Rufus waved away his protests. "I said almost. I'm aware of the catastrophic results of his methods." He leaned back in his fancy executive chair and tapped his index fingers together. "But still, we need to speed things up. Lean on Chuck a bit. I need to see some results."

"Yes, sir." Tseng bowed formally, then laid the report on Rufus' desk. The results of the autopsy were undeniable. The body had been ravaged by some kind of beast in the woods bordering Edge, but there were clear pre-mortem hematomas marking the teen's skin in a seemingly random pattern. The coroner had pinpointed internal bleeding as the cause of death, but he had been unable to determine what might have caused the random bruising. His closing remarks were chilling.

"It appears that chunks of cells were ripped from the body, causing severe bleeding at the point of removal, but I'm unable to find any external wounds to explain how the cells were removed. It's as if they just disappeared."

The pounding against the door roused Cloud from his doze. He had found himself sleeping more and more often lately, or perhaps he was just slipping into some kind of dissociative daze. There was nothing to do with his free time except think, and Cloud wanted to avoid that more than anything.

The hammering fist sounded again. "Come on, open up, Mack. I know you're in there."

Cloud sighed and got to his feet, the creaky old bed protesting as he stood. He trudged across the small room and yanked open the door. A burly redheaded man in a dingy white t-shirt loomed over him. "You're two days late on your rent for this week, Mack. Misha's ready to kick your ass out of here."

Cloud rubbed his eyes and walked back into the room, leaving the door open behind him. "Sorry, Jen. Been busy," he muttered as he pulled open a small desk drawer. He withdrew the small envelope of cash he had set aside for the rent. It was almost the end of the money he'd brought from Edge. It had taken several weeks after he landed, but he had fixed Fenrir up to all her former glory. It may have been foolish, but at the time, it was the only thing he could find to keep his mind busy. It was the only thing that made him feel anything close to happy.

But unfortunately, Cloud and Tifa were no closer to solving their problem than they were when he landed. As he handed the money to Jen, he asked, "You know of any work that needs doing around here?"

Jen accepted the envelope and counted the gil before responding. "I dunno. Maybe. What can you do?"

Cloud scratched his head. "Umm.."

You know what you're good at, Love.

"Any kind of labor work…"

Cutting.

"...construction…"

Slicing.

"…small engine…"

Killing.

"But I'll do whatever needs doing," he said, ignoring her voice. She was ever present now, whispering in his ear, influencing his thoughts, but at least he knew when it was her talking. He could differentiate his thoughts from hers.

He missed the hours on the road with his delivery service, but there could be no connection between Cloud Strife and the man he was here – the unmemorable "Jacob Mack" that he had given the first time someone asked his name.

He'd been lucky to find Jen here in Costa del Sol. The rooms he rented out were shabby, but cheap, and he'd even recommended a storage garage where he could store Fenrir. Jen had an air of shadiness about him, but that was a good thing. He minded his own business and left Cloud alone.

Jen shrugged. "I'll ask around." He pocketed the money and slouched back down the dimly lit hallway.

Cloud closed the door to his room and leaned his head against it.

I know what you can do for money.

"Shut up," he muttered to the voice in his head.

But you're so good at it. I know you miss it, Love.

"Shut up!" he said more loudly.

Remember how it feels when the sharp edge slices through flesh. So pliant. So giving.

"I remember," he said, his hand tightening into a fist.

And the resistance when you hit the bone. Stubborn and strong.

He pushed away from the door and walked slowly back toward the bed.

You miss that first bright drop of red, don't you? You miss that perfect straight line breaking the skin.

The two short side blades of Tsurugi were intertwined in the metal springs of the bed frame. He knelt down next to the bed and pulled out one of the swords, turning it to reflect the meager light from the window. He didn't want to do it. He always regretted it later, when it was over, but he was desperate for any small measure of relief. He touched his finger to the tip, pressed into the skin until it dimpled and broke. A tiny drop of blood appeared and slid down the side of the blade. His breath came faster.

Yessss.

Suddenly, an obnoxiously upbeat song startled him. He looked over at the source – his neglected phone on the edge of the desk.

Leave it. Ignore it. This is better.

For a moment, he actually did consider ignoring it. He didn't want to talk to Tifa. Their conversations had been nothing but uncomfortable lately. They were awkward and halting, both starting to talk at the same time and then both stopping, neither with anything real to say. He hadn't bothered to plug it in for a while, so it had been dead for the last few days. Tifa would be worried.

He finally set the sword on the floor and reached for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Cloud." Tifa's voice sounded strained.

"What's wrong?" he immediately asked.

"Uh…" she let out a breath. "I was just worried about you. I haven't been able to reach you for a while."

Cloud sat back down on the hard floor, leaning his back against the side of the bed. "Yeah. Sorry. My phone died."

"…Oh." If she had been there, she would have given him that exasperated look. Although she wouldn't speak it, her face would say, 'take care of your things, Cloud!' But even then, it was a fondly exasperated look, like she knew that Cloud was Cloud, and he would always let little things like that slip. Tifa, the ultra-disciplined, incredibly efficient mastermind of planning, would never forget to plug in her phone or turn off the lights or fill gas or pick up milk – all things Cloud had forgotten more than once.

Despite the coldness of their recent interactions, he felt a rush of warmth for her. His own thoughts drowned out the persistent nagging voice. I miss you. I need you. I can't do this without you. Only then, when he quieted that voice, did he realize that the strain was still in Tifa's.

"Have you been taking care of yourself? Eating enough?" she asked.

His eyes narrowed. "Tifa? What is it?"

"What?"

"What's bothering you?" he asked quietly. "Talk to me."

Tifa's answering breath trembled. "It's…well, there's nothing you can do…"

"Tell me anyway," he persisted, sitting up. Tifa was good at bottling things up and acting like everything was ok, but he knew her well enough to pick up her subtle signs.

"It's…Marlene," she said finally. "She's been skipping school and coming home late, and she won't say where she's been. I'm afraid she's getting into something really bad."

Cloud scratched his chin, suddenly aware of the patchy stubble he'd been neglecting. "Marlene?" It was hard to believe. Marlene was such a good kid; they'd never had to worry about her before. "I wouldn't worry too much. Remember when she snuck that wounded bird she found in the yard up to her room? She was being all secretive then, too. I'm sure it's something silly like that."

"No," Tifa said immediately. "This is different. She won't talk to me. She doesn't listen to me. I don't know how to get through to her anymore."

Cloud grimaced. He felt clueless when it came to things like this – real parenting. They'd had a few issues with Denzel, but managed to fumble their way through it with Tifa's level head. "Did—does Barret know?"

"No." Tifa sounded resigned. "I should call him. If anything else happens, I will, but…" She forced a laugh. "You know, I'm just being dramatic. It's not a big deal. Just typical teenage drama, you know?"

Cloud didn't know. He knew as much about teenage girls as he did about space travel, but he trusted that Tifa did. "Ok, if you're sure." He paused. "What about Denzel and Lexi? Are they doing ok in Hubble? Any idea when they're going to be let out?"

Tifa didn't answer right away. "Um…"

"Tifa," he said sternly. "Tell me."

"Well, the thing is…I don't know," she said uneasily.

"What do you mean you don't know? Haven't you been visiting them?"

"I tried, but…they're not letting anyone in anymore."

"They told us we could visit once a month!" Cloud said.

"It's been revoked. They said something about how it was impeding their progress with the kids."

Cloud's hands clenched into fists. "You need to call Reeve."

"Yeah, I—Cloud, he says that everything seems fine in there. He says it all seems legit and that we should just follow the rules."

With a scowl, Cloud stood up and began pulling scattered pieces of his belongings together, tossing them onto the bed. "I'm coming home."

"No!" Tifa said sharply. "You can't."

"Tifa—"

"You know you can't go anywhere near that place and those kids."

"But I—"

"And I can't talk to you about stuff if you're just going to try to use it as an excuse to come back!"

Her words cut into him. "Teef, I'm not—"

"I mean it, Cloud." Her voice softened. "I'm sorry. I wish you could, but…it's not safe."

Cloud sank back down onto the bed, shoving aside the items piled there. He didn't know what to say. He knew she was right, but he couldn't stand the feeling of helplessness. Uselessness. He picked up the sword again, running his finger along the edge.

You know you'll feel better.

"I have to go," he said at length.

"Cloud, please don't be…" Tifa sounded like she was struggling to find something comforting, but came up empty.

"It's fine," he said softly. "You're right. I'm just…I need to get something to eat. We can talk tomorrow."

"O-ok. Don't forget to plug your phone in."

"Yeah. Bye."

Marlene kept her arms folded tightly across her chest while she stared at the door, waiting for Tifa. She could feel the stormy grey eyes of the officer on her, but she refused to acknowledge his gaze. Why did he have to be there, anyway? It's not like she was a dangerous criminal. She could be trusted to sit alone in an empty room.

She looked over at the clock and let out a loud sigh. Only ten minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity. The interview room was cold, both in temperature and ambiance. Her chair and the table before her were both metallic and gray. Aside from three other identical chairs at the table, the room was an empty slate. Not even a single generic painting decorated the cold cement walls.

"Excuse me," she said, finally turning her gaze to the officer. "Do you have anything I could read while we wait?"

The officer looked amused. "Well, I was just through Junon last weekend and I picked up a newspaper, but that's about it."

Marlene smiled politely. "That would be wonderful. Would you mind?"

He let out a startled laugh and shook his head, but left to retrieve the paper. Marlene knew she looked young for her age, and few kids who were her age were interested in reading the news, but Marlene wasn't exactly a typical teenager.

He returned a minute later, still looking like he was waiting for the punchline as he handed her the thick paper. She thanked him and spread the paper before her, sincerely grateful for the reading material.

Junon was so different from the life she was used to in Edge. The ads revolved around weapons and home protection options. It was filled with stories of violence and aggression. It disgusted her that the reporters treated it like such an everyday occurrence, like the citizens should just step around the bodies and go about their day. She had almost gotten numbed to the horror until she came across an article that made her stomach churn in a whole new way.

It was nearly an hour before she finally heard the footsteps and the murmur of voices outside the door. The officer who had brought her home after the egging incident walked in, but Tifa stood in the doorway, staring at her uncertainly. It was hard not to notice how worn Tifa looked these days. On the outside, she pretended everything was normal. She cooked meals and helped with homework and taught her classes, but she wasn't taking care of herself. Her long, dark hair hung dull and lank around hollowed eyes, and she no longer filled out her clothes. The sunny smiles she used to give so freely no longer reached her eyes.

The tiniest bit of compassion nudged its way into Marlene's heart, but was immediately blotted out by Tifa's words.

"What has gotten into you lately?" Marlene looked away and scowled. Tifa walked slowly into the room. "Shoplifting, Marlene? Really?"

Officer can't-take-a-hint hovered nearby with his eyes locked on Tifa. She pulled out the chair opposite of Marlene and sat down. She opened her mouth to speak, but she sensed the officer's shadow at her shoulder. She turned toward him with a tight smile. "Can I speak to her alone for a minute, please?"

The officer looked like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Oh! Of course. I'll just be...right outside the door if you need me."

Tifa nodded, and he hurried to accommodate her request. It was pathetic. Marlene hoped she'd never have a body like that if men were just going to turn into idiots around her.

As soon as he left, Tifa leveled the teen with a stern gaze. "Why would you do this, Marlene? If there's something you really wanted, I would have helped you find a way to earn the money. You don't just take from other people! I know we taught you better than this."

Marlene scoffed and locked her eyes on the wall over Tifa's shoulder. Tifa studied her closely. "No," she murmured thoughtfully. "You don't actually care about the purse you were trying to steal, do you?" Marlene didn't bother responding. Tifa already knew the answer. She put her palms on the cold table and leaned forward. "So then what is it? Were you trying to get my attention? You've got it."

Marlene's face shifted to a scowl. "Trust me, the last thing I want is your attention."

She immediately regretted her words when the hurt flashed across Tifa's eyes. "Ok, so what then? Why do you keep finding ways to get into trouble? Why are you so bent on ruining your life? What do you want, Marlene?"

Marlene picked sullenly at a fingernail. She wanted Tifa to stop pretending that she was fine and that their whole world wasn't crumbling around them. She wanted to forget the horrible thing they had done. She wanted to believe that the story she had seen in the paper was just a coincidence. She wanted everyone to come home and argue over silly things like who drank the last of the milk and what channel to watch. But she couldn't say that. She turned her head to stare at another nondescript wall.

Tifa sighed heavily. "I'm going to call your father," she said grimly.

Marlene sat up straight for a second, but then the realization hit her and she slouched back down. "Oh. You mean Barret."

Tifa looked pained as she pressed her fingers to her temples. "Honey, you know why Cloud can't come home right now."

"Right now?" Marlene scoffed. "When can he come home, Tifa? Huh? Nothing's changed since he left. You're just sitting around acting like everything is normal, like something is going to change if you just keep serving beer! Gods, you used to blow up buildings just to make a point! Why aren't you helping him? Why don't you do something?"

Tifa glanced over her shoulder at the closed door in alarm, then back at Marlene. Her words were hushed. "It's not that simple, honey. You have to understand, back then, I was a different person. I...hurt a lot of innocent people. I shouldn't have..." she closed her eyes and shook her head. "I promised, never again—"

"That has nothing to do with this!" Marlene spoke over her. "Maybe you're protecting those kids, but what do you think is happening to Cloud while he's off by himself, trying to fight something that's in his own head? What makes you think he can do that better without you? I thought we were supposed to be his family!"

Tifa's hands clenched into fists. Marlene knew the signs of nuclear territory, and for once, she was glad to see it. She was glad to penetrate that mask of serenity and control behind which Tifa hid. "Marlene, you don't know everything that goes on between us, ok? I would never abandon him! I talk to him almost every night on the phone. He's doing ok, he's not—"

"Are you sure?" Marlene challenged. "Seen any Junon newspapers lately?"

"What? Why would I read those? Why would you be reading those?"

Marlene ignored her question and stood, retrieving the newspaper from a small table in the corner. She tossed it down in front of Tifa and then returned to her seat. She crossed her arms stubbornly and gestured for her guardian to read.

Tifa's eyes scanned the article, her face growing pale as she read. She blinked rapidly and looked up. "Marlene, what makes you think he had anything to do with this? Cloud doesn't...act like this. Cutting them up into—" she looked back at the paper for the reporter's wording "—bite size pieces." It was obvious that she found the reporter's flippancy as distasteful as Marlene had.

The teen gave her a meaningful look. "Not when he's himself."

Tifa pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Those people were shot several times, too. Cloud never uses a gun."

"He doesn't shoot bullets, he deflects them. How many people do you know with the strength and stamina to cut through people like that, Tifa? That many times, in that many pieces?"

"In Junon? Probably a lot!" Tifa insisted, propping her hands on her hips. "It was a Shinra military base. I'm sure there were some SOLDIERs there. And the police think it was a whole gang that did it, not just one person."

"And how many of them have the kind of motorcycle they're describing?" she countered, shoving the paper back in front of Tifa.

Tifa's eyes went back to the paper and read the rest of the article. She was silent for a long time, but when she spoke her voice was cold. "This isn't him, Marlene. You're grasping at straws here, and I don't know why. If you're trying to use this to distract me from your punishment, it's not going to work."

Marlene had never before understood what it meant to feel your blood boiling, but she felt it now. She was absolutely certain that Cloud was responsible for the massacre in Junon, and that he needed Tifa more than ever. What was it going to take to get through to this woman? She let out a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. She stared right into Tifa's reddish brown eyes and spoke calmly, with conviction. "You know, I used to admire you, Tifa. I thought you were a fighter. I thought you weren't afraid of anything. But now? You won't even leave your comfy little bar to help the people you claim to love. I hope I never end up like you."

Judging by Tifa's stricken expression, she had hit the mark. "Marlene…" she breathed. "I—I can't be that person anymore. Even without the innocent people caught in the crossfire...I was careless with my life. It's not just myself I have to worry about now. People depend on me and I can't—"

Marlene slammed her fist on the table. "Stop making excuses, Tifa! Cloud's gone and Denzel's gone, and hey look, now I'm in here so you don't have to take care of me either! So there's nothing stopping you from actually trying."

Tifa closed her eyes and lowered her head. She didn't say a word. When she finally looked up, she reached her hand out to the teenager, but Marlene pulled away angrily. Tifa let her hand drop. "I love you, Marlene," she said sadly, standing. Then she turned and walked out of the room.

Marlene hugged her arms more tightly around herself. As angry as she was, she was already feeling guilty for the things she'd said. She shouldn't have been so harsh. She had needed to get through that barrier, but she knew that Tifa had been hurt. A few minutes later, she looked up as the door opened, ready to apologize, but it wasn't Tifa's face she saw. It was the officer who had arrested her.

"Come on, I'll take you to the holding cell," he said stiffly.

Marlene stared at him in disbelief. "I'm not going home with Tifa?"

The man shrugged. "Nope. She didn't post your bail. You're staying here."

Denzel knew it would happen sooner or later. It was inevitable that he would get stuck in a workgroup with Alicia, forced into close quarters. They were in the chocobo barn that day, piling greens into a wheelbarrow and taking them to the feeding bins.

There didn't seem to be much movement coming from Alicia's side. He glanced in her direction, catching her staring at him. She quickly jabbed the pitchfork back into the plants, picking up a tiny pile of greens and tossing it into the wheelbarrow. They had to get a full wheelbarrow for every stall, each of which housed half a dozen chocobos. Most just got gysahl greens, because they were the cheapest. They were brought in by the truckload and dumped in a heap at the back door of the barn. There were a couple of smaller bins containing krakka and tantal greens that some "special" chocobos got to eat, but Denzel didn't understand what made those birds more special than the others.

"I had no idea chocobos ate so many greens!" Alicia said, attempting conversation. Denzel said nothing, picking up a large pile with his pitchfork and tossing it into the wheelbarrow. After a long pause, she tried again. "I've never really had much experience with chocobos. Have you?"

Denzel sighed. She'd asked him a direct question now, and his upbringing wouldn't allow him to be so rude as to ignore her completely. "A little. Not much."

"I actually only rode once," she said ruefully. "And I got thrown off in the middle of the ruins."

Denzel stopped and stared at her. "The ruins? Those things are full of monsters. You were lucky to get out alive." He tilted his head speculatively. "How did you get out?"

Alicia suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Denzel snorted and went back to scooping greens. "You're the one who brought it up."

Alicia started scooping again, too. They worked in silence for another minute. Then: "What about you? Did you ever take care of chocobos? Or just ride them?"

He stabbed the pitchfork into the plants and moved to pick up the handles of the full wheelbarrow, resigned to an actual conversation. He could handle it as long as they stuck to safe topics. "Cloud and Tifa owned a couple for a while when I was younger. The chocobos stayed on a nearby farm. They taught me how to ride, but I didn't really like it. The barn smelled bad and the chocobos liked to kick."

Alicia trailed behind him as he pushed the greens toward the stalls. "That's cool. It sounds like they took really good care of you."

Denzel stopped at an empty food bin and tipped the wheelbarrow. The chocobos jockeyed for position on the other side as the greens cascaded down. He stood there watching them after the wheelbarrow was emptied. "Yeah," he said, smiling slightly. "I was lucky Cloud found me."

"Found you?" Alicia asked, touching his arm lightly. "How did that happen?"

Denzel moved his arm away. It was something she had always done when they were dating: finding a way to touch him, no matter how small. He had liked it at the time, and it bothered him that he wasn't uncomfortable with it now. He picked up the handles of the empty wheelbarrow and walked away quickly, pushing it toward the back of the barn.

She followed behind him. "I'm sorry. It's ok if you don't want to talk about it. I know you lost your parents when you were really little…"

He set the wheelbarrow back in its original spot and picked up the pitchfork again, rubbing the back of his arm against his forehead. "No, it's ok. I'll tell you. I just want to keep working." He took another big scoop while he thought about how to start the story. The beginning was sad, filled with the deaths of everyone he knew and loved, then the desertion of his last friend. He didn't want to think about that, though. He wanted to start at the place where everything got better.

"I was on my own for a while," he began, glossing over the bad stuff, "selling scrap I found in the ruins. One day I came across this old, broken down church." In his head, he could see that scene as clearly as the day it happened. The church ceiling was half destroyed, and the yard was filled with debris from sector 7. "There was a motorcycle parked there. It looked so out of place in the ruins. It was just shiny and clean in the middle of the crumbling buildings and dusty scrap piles. It felt…magical." Denzel smiled slightly.

"I walked up to it, expecting it to disappear like some kind of mirage, but it never did. There was a phone hanging from it, and that seemed even more unreal. It just looked so normal hanging there, just like things used to be when my parents were still around. So I dialed my old phone number." He sighed and leaned against the pitchfork. "I knew it was dumb. I knew my parents had been killed when the plate collapsed." He stared blankly at the mountain of greens. "I think that's when it truly hit me. They were really gone and I was really alone."

Denzel didn't pull away this time when he felt her hand on his shoulder. A dull echo of the loneliness and pain he had felt back then was coursing through him, and her touch kept him in the present. He closed his eyes and pushed past the block in his throat. "And then I really looked at the phone. There were a ton of missed calls from this one number and…I don't know what I was thinking. I just called it back."

He touched his fingers to his forehead, where the shadow of geostigma still haunted him. "That was when I found out I had the stigma. My head felt like it was splitting in half. I thought I was going to die, but when the pain finally faded, there was a man standing over me, asking if I was ok."

Denzel shook himself, remembering that he was supposed to be working. He went back to shoveling greens, trying not to feel the disappointment when her hand slipped from his shoulder. "He talked on the phone for a while, then told me he was taking me home. And…that was it. They told me I could stay if I wanted. So I did."

Alicia stared at him thoughtfully, not even pretending to shovel greens anymore. "So…he literally rescued you. Cloud." Denzel nodded. "Wow, that's…wow." She stared off into the distance, thinking. "You really trust him, don't you? Like a real father."

"Yes," he said simply.

"And I…I ruined that. I took that away from you."

She looked truly upset by the thought, and he suddenly remembered that he'd made his first bold move at a memorial for her father and some other people lost during the town attack. He grabbed her hand to reassure her. "No, you didn't. I never blamed him." She looked down at their hands and he immediately released her, feeling foolish.

But things felt different with her somehow. They'd never really talked about anything heavy or emotional before. It was all shallow, light topics. Maybe it was the reason he'd always felt like something was missing between them. They'd never had that kind of deeper connection. They hadn't sat up half the night talking the way he did with Marlene and Lexi. He frowned suddenly, noticing her eyes glimmering with tears. He'd never actually seen Alicia cry. He wondered now if there was a good reason she always shied away from talking about serious things.

"Hey," he said, dropping his pitchfork and stepping toward her. "Don't cry." It felt natural when he held out his arms, and she slid easily into them, leaning against his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Denzel," she blurted. "I didn't mean to mess things up. I just didn't know how else to…"

Denzel sighed, resting his chin on top of her head while she cried into his shirt. "Please don't cry. I'm not even angry anymore."

To his surprise, he really wasn't.

Lexi had been telling him that he would feel better if he would just let go of that betrayal, if he would just forgive Alicia for whatever she had done. He understood now. He felt like a weight had been lifted. He had really only been hurting himself.

Alicia's crying slowed to sniffles. When she looked up, her lashes glimmered with her tears. Absent the makeup she used to wear, he noticed for the first time that her creamy skin was sprinkled with freckles. They were light, with a dusting across the bridge of her nose, getting slightly darker as they spread to her cheeks. Denzel liked them. They made her look younger, more innocent.

"I miss you," she whispered.

Denzel's heart beat faster. He felt caught up in the moment, so far away from the hurt and anger he'd been holding for so long. This felt natural. Comfortable. Lexi's face rose in his mind. 'Just friends, Denzel.' Somehow, her words made him feel more guilty instead of less.

He released Alicia's shoulders. "Alicia, we shouldn't be—"

She grabbed desperately at his sides, pulling herself close again. "Denzel, wait! There's something I need to tell you about this place. It's not what we think it is. We're being—"

"Live porn goin' on in the back of the stable, yo," a voice drawled casually behind them.

Denzel pushed her away like he'd been burned. The redheaded guard with the attitude leaned against the wall of the barn.

"Don't stop on my account," he said, his arms crossed loosely, a snarky grin on his face. "It wasn't even getting good yet."

"Reno," Alicia sighed, propping her hands on her hips. "Do you always have to make a dramatic entrance?"

Reno shrugged. "Ain't my fault it feels dramatic when you see me, princess. Anyway, I came to tell you it's time to get back. The bell rang like five minutes ago."

"Fine. We'll be right there," Alicia snapped.

"I'm your escort, yo," he said casually. "Move it, princess." Alicia scowled and stalked past him. "You too, little Strife," he said, gesturing to Denzel.

Denzel followed behind Alicia, narrowing his eyes at Reno as he passed. Since when is Alicia on a first name basis with the guards?

Cloud stared blandly at the shelf in front of him. He had taken to heart Tifa's suggestion to remember to eat, but he was getting sick of back-alley convenience store food. When they had first starting living together, she had taught him about various vegetables so that he could identify them by sight, but she had never shown him how to prepare them so that they tasted better, and it just seemed like too much of a hassle at this point anyway.

The shopkeeper was watching him uneasily. He had never thought of himself as intimidating, but the people around Costa del Sol seemed unnerved by his appearance. He no longer wore his harness – there was no danger of monsters sneaking into the tourist city, so excessive weapons seemed out of place – but he kept the two short blades from the fusion sword in sheaths at his hips. They were less glaringly obvious, less threatening to the casual observer. Still, he made people nervous.

In dim lighting or at night, the mako sheen in his eyes was easily noticeable. Although the mako injections used on Shinra militia was little known around these parts, people seemed to have trouble meeting his eyes. Even if they didn't recognize the light for what it was, it made them uncomfortable. The only place it went entirely unnoticed was on the beach on sunny days. Unfortunately, Cloud spent very little time there. He couldn't stand to be around carefree families, playing in the waves, building sand castles and trying to coax him into impromptu games of beach volleyball.

No, the part of Costa del Sol where Cloud spent most of his time was very different from the tourist strip. There were no gaudy storefronts with neon signs selling polished shells and rocks to sunburned vacationers. These stores sold only necessities like food, cigarettes, and booze. Many also had "backroom items" for sale that couldn't be openly displayed, but easily obtained if a man knew the right words to say. The windows were encased in iron bars, and there were guns hidden under every counter with a cash register.

But Cloud had been feeling unusually optimistic, and he'd ventured out of the seedy underbelly of the city for some better food. The convenience store he'd found was in between the bright lights of the strip and the dark shadows of the alleys, but it was the kind of place that sold nothing more illicit than food of questionable expiration dates.

Cloud didn't like it. He felt vulnerable and exposed here. In the seedier shops, his weapons would be noticed and acknowledged with respect. The swords said that he was not a man to be messed with. But in the streets of the honest, hardworking men and women of the city, they marked him as a criminal. The only reason to carry military grade weapons like that was if you intended to use them to steal, rape, or kill. The other customers who were in the store when he entered had quickly taken their selected items to the counter and exited as fast as possible.

This was a bad idea. Cloud shook his head and grabbed a bag of some kind of dried fruit, just to prove to the clerk that he was a legitimate shopper. He tossed it on the counter and handed the required amount of gil to the timid shopkeeper, a short, balding older man whose hands spoke of years of hard labor. Cloud gave a respectful nod as he picked up his purchase from the counter. The man shrank back from him.

Cloud sighed and left. Could he really be that terrifying?

As he trudged back toward the place he called home, he opened the fruit. He was surprised to find that they weren't half bad. Maybe he didn't have to eat just garbage. When he had reached about the halfway point of his walk, a whimper caught his ear from an alley as he passed. He stopped next to the brick wall just past the opening, listening.

"I'm sorry! Kade, stop, just listen!" A woman's voice pleaded for mercy, her breathing jagged with an edge of fear. "I'll find another one right away, I promise!"

"You're such a waste of space, Dee! He would've taken the kid if you didn't slither your way in there in the first place. You know I can't afford to piss off the Brothers."

"Send me to one of the other Brothers, then. They're not all so picky. Give them some freebies or something. Jo's not ready for—"

"That's not up to you, damn it! I say when Jo is ready for the Brothers, and when you're gettin' too old for them, sounds like she's ready!"

Cloud let his head fall back and stared up at the stars. A year ago, he wouldn't have hesitated to help her. He had a special distaste for those who preyed on the weak, especially children. But she wasn't a child, and how could he be sure she needed help? Life with Tifa had taught him that women weren't always the weaker sex. Even Aerith, as tiny and fragile as she appeared, could defend herself well enough with her staff and a little materia.

'Go on. Do it. You need this,' whispered the voice in his head.

The voice was enough to make up his mind. If she wanted him to do it, he couldn't. He clenched his teeth and continued walking, trying not to hear the woman's continued pleading. But when the loud bang echoed down the street, immediately followed with her pained cry, it was no longer a choice. He ran back, charging down the street and into the alley.

Against the dumpster, a woman in a short black dress was pinned by her arms. All he could see of her attacker was greasy black hair and an average build. Cloud grabbed the man by the back of the neck, pulling him off the woman and throwing him against the wall. The man hit the brick and fell to the ground with a grunt.

Cloud turned back to the woman. "Are you alright?"

She was holding her shoulder, and to his surprise, she was scowling at him. "I'm just fine, and I don't—"

The man had gotten back to his feet and charged at Cloud, trying to tackle him. Cloud stepped neatly to the side and the man flew past, ramming into the opposite building. With an irritated roar, he spun around and threw a punch at Cloud's head. Cloud reached up and stopped the fist in mid-air, then slowly squeezed the fingers in his hand.

The man's eyes began to water. His mouth fell open and he let out a pained squeak, dropping to his knees, but he didn't try to grab at Cloud with his other hand. His free hand was reaching inside his coat.

His fingers had barely brushed the metal of his gun when he felt something else metallic at his throat. The man swallowed visibly and retracted his hand. "H-hey, look, man. There's no need for this…"

"How convenient that you say that after you reach for your weapon," Cloud said calmly.

"Look, the lady's fine!" He tried to gesture in her direction, but winced when the movement brushed his neck against the sword. A trickle of blood dribbled out from the small cut. The metallic scent rose and circled around Cloud. Something inside of him roared awake.

Do it. He deserves it. You know you want to.

Cloud tightened his grip on the handle, but the woman stepped into his line of sight next to the man. "Stop it! Let him go!" she ordered. The whimpering, begging girl of a few minutes ago was replaced with an angry woman with hands on slender hips.

Cloud raised an eyebrow at her. "What? Just a minute ago you were—"

"This is none of your business," she spoke over him. "I didn't ask for your help. I don't need your help. Just leave us alone!"

Cloud looked between them for a moment longer, then scoffed and shoved the kneeling man backwards with his foot. The man caught himself with his hands, and Cloud reached inside his jacket and snatched the pistol. "Hey, give that—"

Cloud released the magazine, letting it drop to the ground as he tossed the empty weapon into the nearby dumpster. "Go find it," he said coldly, then turned and walked away. He didn't want to deprive the man of his weapon – he knew he felt naked without his own – but he wasn't stupid enough to give the guy a chance to shoot him in the back.

His hands shook the rest of the way home. He clenched his fists and shoved them in his pockets, but he couldn't silence her whispering in his ear. He couldn't release the tension that kept his whole body captive. As soon as his shaking hands managed to get the key turned in the lock, he slammed the door and pulled out a sword, his breathing fast and heavy. It wasn't going to get any better until he took care of his needs.