Chapter 2: Rumor Has It


Underneath the bar's counter, there was an ever-growing excess of supplies: new glasses that needed cleaned and sorted by type and size, aged wines that had survived the carnage of Meteorfall and graciously liberated themselves from high end restaurants' rubble, fresh towels, syrups, salts, bitters—the list went on. Seventh Heaven, as reluctant as Tifa had been to make it the old Avalanche haunt's namesake, was thriving. Families brought their kids in for lunch and a taste of Marlene's personally tested and approved juice blends and finger sandwiches. She remembered how the 'juice' had only been those cheap powdered concoctions with water starting out, but these days, Tifa was able to come by the real thing for reasonable, if not necessarily stable, prices. A steady stream of regulars, office and construction workers fresh off the clock, stopped in nightly for drinks before returning home. Just last week, she'd hosted an engagement party.

People were rebuilding and settling back into normal routines, slowly shaking off the shock of survival along with any lingering hesitancy they might have had to look forward to the future. Life was picking up and moving on.

Tifa wasn't sure what was in store for her. She'd given up on part of how she'd once believed things were supposed to work out over the long term. Stashed and organized alongside the wealth of inventory beneath her counter was everything Cloud owned, for he too was moving on. They were moving on—they'd agreed to do this, Tifa reminded herself. They didn't quite resent each other yet, but the writing had been on the wall that was where they were headed if nothing changed. They were separating because they were friends first and foremost. They needed to try to salvage that, if nothing else.

The front door swung open, letting in two familiar women—both comically sharp-dressed for how defunct their employer was—and rescuing her from burrowing too deep into those feelings. Tifa stole a glance at the clock hanging over her main liquor display. It read five 'til noon on the dot, as always. "Elena, Cissnei," she greeted them. "The usual?"

"With a side of Reeve's most recent transit schedules if you have any," Cissnei replied casually.

"Tseng received some intel on an unusual delivery of cargo at Kalm late last night. You were Reeve's last stop before that," Elena sharply followed up.

"Elena," Cissnei gently chided her while eying Tifa, "we're friends here. This can't be all work. Besides, friends are more willing to share."

Tifa rolled her eyes and smiled half-heartedly. Cissnei wasn't being entirely disingenuous. After she'd agreed to collaborate with the W.R.O. on some smaller supply chain projects and started letting Reeve use Seventh Heaven as a temporary cache, the Turks had started paying her regular visits. At first it was only once or twice per week. Then, she'd started side-tracking their interrogations with lunch, a little wine, and some light gossip—how Barret had run out an unruly drunkard out that one time and shot him in the butt, or how Cloud had lost an entire crate of brandy on a gamble. Most of the time, she was pulling their chains with wildly exaggerated versions of what had really happened, but they'd listen closely regardless, hoping she'd slip up and betray a few details.

There was an odd sort of fun in their exchanges, and an awkward, tense friendship had in fact cropped up between the three of them over the past several months. Tifa suspected they were all on to one another's games, but they appreciated her menu enough to justify stopping over for a break nearly daily now, so she played along. When they weren't trying particularly hard, she could sometimes even coax them into sharing a ridiculous story of their own.

One mystery Tifa was trying to figure out for both curiosity's sake and, planet forbid she should need it, leverage, was where Cissnei had been over the past few years. Supposedly she'd been a Turk longer than Elena, but she'd never surfaced with the others in pursuit of Sephiroth. She'd asked her straight-faced about it before, but Cissnei had brushed the question off with a noncommittal remark about playing a more clandestine role due to complications with a prior mission.

Tifa hadn't dug too much more. What was there to know? Cissnei was a Turk, one of Rufus' misguided, hopelessly loyal underlings just like Elena. She doubted she'd truly need something to dangle over their heads. Their power was woefully limited, and she wasn't actually guarding anything strictly classified at the bar. They were simply adept at prodding her guilty conscience enough to make her feel like maybe she should be. They were too good at their job sometimes, but these days, their sincere attempts at cajoling her were infrequent, and they were fairly polite paying customers.

Unfortunately, she could tell today was going to be one of those attempts.

"Friends also don't spill to other friends they don't get along with," Tifa scolded Cissnei. using a tone she usually reserved for an uncooperative Marlene. "But if a shipment of first aid for the Kalm office is really what Rufus is about these days, he must be pretty hard up. Tseng too. Lean times, few leads…"

"Vincent was observed arriving with Reeve. Why both of them?" Elena persisted, visibly flustered at the pot-shot she'd taken at their boss and leader.

"They were both headed into Kalm," Tifa shrugged. "Can't really say what Reeve has him doing for the W.R.O. around here. Could be anything. Vincent's kind of a catch-all."

That part, of course, was a lie, and they all knew it, but this was their usual song and dance. Vincent had most recently been scouting out Shinra's old supply depots in Midgar for spare machinery parts, or better yet, whole units, but there was no need for Tifa to divulge anything about that. Mako-free manufacturing capacities were coming along too slowly, and rebuilding was a challenge when everything had to be old, rigged, or borrowed in the meantime. If ripping Rufus off helped build society back up at a faster pace and deprived Shinra the ability to grow in a new set of fangs, it was worth it.

"Actually, I think I'll try the tomato salad," Cissnei continued, "with a light balsamic dressing if you have it, garlic croutons, and how about…the name of the third operative they picked up between here and Kalm."

Tifa grimaced. "That's…a new one," she answered while she quickly gathered two large hothouse tomatoes, a cutting board, and a knife. Whatever Cissnei was on about now, she honestly had no clue.

"You don't know?" Cissnei crossed her arms thoughtfully, watching her. "Hm…I believe you."

"Our Kalm contact witnessed Reeve and Vincent with the third party. Tall, mostly covered. They were clearly concealing his identity, but we were able to confirm he's hiding at Reeve's residence there," Elena pushed.

"They also said he looked a lot like Sephiroth," Cissnei dropped.

As calmly as she could manage, Tifa paused in her tomato-slicing, set aside the knife, and set her palms down flat on the counter. "Please don't joke about that."

Fighting Sephiroth had been harrowing. Mortifying. How many times had she and the others nearly dropped their guard, thinking they'd finished him off, only for him to swoop back down on them in some new, horrifying form? To think that he might have only retreated…No. That was impossible, and too much for Tifa to process willingly. Cloud had personally struck the final blow and had seen his spirit energy disperse. Sephiroth was never coming back, and she took umbrage that Cissnei felt it was necessary to hit that hard below the belt just for some delivery schedules.

Unless Cloud had been lying to put her at ease all along. That had become a little too common for him over the past year. Now, she couldn't help but wonder if it was just escalation from a bad habit that had always been there. He'd progressed well beyond his initial sweet sensitivity to outright walking on eggshells around her. Trying to keep her from worrying about him had evolved into obfuscations. But Sephiroth's defeat—that would have been too big to keep under wraps if it was false or incomplete somehow. She hoped.

Cissnei cocked her head slightly to one side; a tell that she knew she'd hit a nerve and was trying to gauge its usefulness. "I wouldn't worry—it's just raw RUMINT, probably nothing. Visibility was low because of the weather. But if anyone might be aware of someone like that wandering around, it would have to be W.R.O. affiliates."

Tifa shuddered. Gooseflesh raised on her arms. Maybe just this once, it was worth giving them a morsel of a hint for her own peace of mind. She knew they'd check it out and would almost certainly follow up with her for more. "Reeve and Vincent left here last night with a small load of supplies for the Kalm outpost—just food and first aid, like I said. It was only the two of them. I helped them load their van. They said they were planning to take an old back road leading out of the area near Sector 7 because of the construction going on. If you need somewhere to search…"

But Elena scoffed. "Tifa, we're Turks; not paranormal investigators. We might not have a body, but if he were still alive, Sephiroth would have surfaced and done some real damage by now.

Cissnei nudged her with a cryptic, "But don't forget what our subject was involved in."

"Hoj—Oh," Elena cut herself off. "Ah, I'll just take an egg salad sandwich, Tifa,"

Tifa filed away the name Elena had almost blurted out. Hojo. They were looking into Hojo for some reason; not exactly the casual meddling she'd originally believed the Turks were up to. Something about Shinra's own rotting garbage had caught their attention, and they believed Reeve either knew about it or was involved. Sephiroth was tangentially on their radar as well, which she cared for even less. The man himself was dead and gone, but before going their separate ways, she, Cloud, and everyone else had agreed not to share the news of Sephiroth's defeat with the Turks, Rufus, or anyone still loyal to Shinra. The idea had been that if Rufus and his cohorts still thought they had a bigger mess on their hands; if they were chasing down phantoms, they'd have less time to hassle everyone else trying to lead civilization through recovery. Elena's take made it pretty obvious that the desired effect of their secrecy was expiring, but that didn't rule out clones, monsters, or other Jenova-related experiments if cleaning up after Hojo was what had raised the Turks' hackles. It wasn't as if Sephiroth hadn't used those very things to raise himself before.

She'd have to tell Reeve the next time he passed through. Maybe sooner.

An uneasy silence passed between them while Tifa finished prepping Cissnei's and Elena's lunches. Her mind took advantage of the ominous implications to worm its way back down the sad emotional rabbit hole she'd barely avoided getting sucked down earlier.

She'd also have to warn Cloud about all of this, as he'd be travelling quite a bit. He'd put down a deposit on a room in Kalm, convenient both for his work and to create some distance between them. The days when he'd come home and hover—'hover' was putting it lightly—were gone, though she wasn't innocent by a long shot.

For the first year or so after Meteorfall, they'd expected things to be a little off, and were patient. Cloud was still settling into his true memories—his true self—and she was his only link to those times, to their childhood, and the feeling had been mutual. He was all that was left for her as well, so they were content to be clingy, steadying forces for a while. They'd both had so much blind faith in one another…

"See? This is all give and take. You'll have something to deliver to Reeve too," Cissnei broke Tifa's worried silence with a reminder that there weren't any real secrets between them.

"You two know I don't work for Reeve or the W.R.O.," Tifa tiredly protested. "I help organize some paperwork for local projects as a volunteer and feed them. Community stuff and favors for friends. That's all."

"But Cloud does sometimes," Elena said. "You're an insider whether you like it or not."

"That's changing soon," Tifa grumbled, sliding the two Turks their plates. "He won't be using this place as his office, anyway."

Tifa hated how everyone required an explanation for why she and Cloud weren't attached at the hip any longer, but that of itself was just another sign of what a smothering turn their relationship had taken. If one came up in conversation, it was almost always in reference to the other, especially in her case. Toward the end, she'd felt invisible, like she was just an extension of Cloud, and that made it so, so easy to be angry with him over small, petty things. At the same time, she still felt she needed to watch over him constantly, because what if his mind slipped again? What if she couldn't trust what he was saying, no matter how honest he thought he was being with her? How could she ever really believe they were out of the woods?

All she knew was that she couldn't count on herself to treat him fairly or with anything resembling respect so long as her thoughts were nothing but a slew of old misgivings she couldn't quite give up.

"…Did something happen?" Cissnei questioned, abandoning her formal, interrogative tone. Just like that, Turk time was over.

Tifa fetched and wet a dish rag to wipe the remaining tomato guts from the counter. "He's coming to get his things later this afternoon. Cloud's found a place of his own. It's something we decided together…not really a big deal."

"But it is," Cissnei said.

"We were alright at first when things settled down," Tifa sighed, "but…we couldn't. We were so used to having to protect one another, but there was nothing left to fight. I was treating Cloud like a child, and he was always trying to save me from something that just…wasn't there anymore. We didn't know how to stop. It got so bad we forgot how to talk things out. We started keep secrets over nothing… So little space, but nothing really passing between us…"

"Not everyone has it in them to be that self-aware," Cissnei tried to console her. "Perhaps you can reevaluate once you've gotten to know yourselves better?"

Folding the washcloth into a tight, perfect square, Tifa bit the inside of her cheek, blinking back an embarrassing urge to cry. She wasn't bitter with Cloud, but something about the idea of trying again repelled her, like a kick to the stomach. Her eyes burned and her chest ached. How easy would it be to fall right back into the same old rhythm that had brought them to this point? "I'm not so sure."

She was tired of her own paranoia, of constantly worrying about what might be on his mind, or what he was thinking about her specifically anytime his mood turned, or if she was truly good enough for him. She was exhausted from doubt and riddled with guilt over not being able to be open with him. On top of that, she feared losing him the same way she'd fear for someone's life, and everything she was, every decision she made had somehow ultimately came to revolve around him. It wasn't Cloud's fault, but time off alone wouldn't solve something so deep-seated. Just being around him had become a non-stop exercise in anxiety, and it was eating her alive. When struck with the realization that she was struggling to define herself outside of who or what she was to Cloud, that had been the final nail in the coffin.

And Tifa knew he was having the same problem with her.

Once there wasn't a life-and-death, high stakes mission to focus on, and most of Meteor's miss had been sufficiently cleaned up, daily life together had gradually grown toxic. If they tried to keep up this near-marital life together, it would eventually poison them against one another. It had to stop.

In retrospect, Tifa believed this all should have been predictable. She should have known, but when she'd finally made a move on Cloud, two years ago on under the Highwind, she hadn't been counting on surviving much longer. She wasn't looking to the future; she was just trying to cherish what she had in that moment, convinced it was all she had and would never come again. It should have been enough for her to be a reliable friend to him. She'd wanted too much. She'd been so selfish.

"Honestly, it sounds like it would almost be easier if Cloud were just an asshole," Elena grumbled through a bite of sandwich, "but figuring out you don't fit as an item after everything—that's rough."

Tifa nodded. "It does feel like I'm kind of killing something off."

"Euthanasia," Cissnei offered. "It's better to put some things out of their misery so they don't pass in too much pain."

"I hope so," Tifa said.

"Hey, you meet people every day here. Someone interesting will come along," Elena added. "We can lend you Rude if you need a messy rebound."

Tifa let out a weak laugh. It would be a long, long while before she was ready to go down that road with someone new, and she didn't care much for the idea of rebounds. She could hardly begin to think of what she might want any future liaison to look like, but stability was at least part of it. "Not before I find help for this place. Even my weeknight crowd is starting to get a little overwhelming. Can't really get to know anyone if I'm running around like a headless chocobo."


When Cloud finally pulled up, carting a small trailer behind Fenrir, it was half an hour shy of reopening time for the dinner rush and regular bar service. Tifa had been waiting on her front doorstep for nearly the past two and had dialed his number three times. He'd never answered.

Dismounting the bike, Cloud immediately raised his hands in a surrendering motion, his phone dangling from one of them. "Signal between here and Kalm was worse than usual," he explained.

Tifa exhaled slowly. She'd been ready to tear into him; ready to hit him with a barrage of questions about why he couldn't be bothered keep her up to date on his plans. She had a business to run, and she shouldn't have to guess what he was up to when they'd agreed on a time. It reassured her that this was the right path. Letting go of this was right. "Mm. I was wondering…" she answered in a measured voice, suppressing shame for how quickly her anger had flared against him. Mere miscommunications had become intolerable if they came from Cloud, because she couldn't stop herself from turning them—and everything else he did—into a twisted guess or recalculation for how he really saw her.

This was right. She cared for him deeply, but together they only made one another more broken.

Wordless, they retreated into Seventh Heaven. Four back-and-forth trips later (she'd counted them), all of Cloud's belongings were loaded up.

"So, this is it," Cloud said, eying Tifa uncomfortably.

"Yeah...yeah it is."

"Reeve will probably be keeping me busier than usual. The Kalm office is next door, and his place is only a block away. He and Vincent were in this morning. He was already making a list," Cloud stalled.

Tifa perked up, recalling what Cissnei had shared about a third person. "Was there anyone new with them?"

"Turks again?" he asked. He'd walked in on their lunch breaks plenty of times before.

"Yeah, they said there was…someone they couldn't identify," Tifa said, deciding to circumvent Cissnei's Sephiroth rumor for now.

"They did complain the weather delayed them until late—something about dropping off a wounded hitchhiker. I wouldn't make much of it."

In other words, Cissnei and Elena had made that part up in its entirety to toy with her. Tifa could almost kick herself for being so easy. If Reeve and Vincent had found someone broken down on the back roads, of course they would have stopped. The information the Turks had fed her was embellished at best, cooked up to throw her off kilter and make her cough up more than she knew she should. Naturally, this meant they'd not be checking in on anything for her, but were now aware of one of Reeve's alternate routes.

So much for give and take.

"Well then…I'll see you around," Tifa said. And she would see him. As long as he was running errands for Reeve, Seventh Heaven was bound to be one of his regular stops.

Cloud made a small noise in agreement. "If you ever need anything," he started, but Tifa stopped him, shaking her head before he could finish.

"I'll find my own way. If I need anything, I'll figure it out. I'll be alright…and so will you, Cloud."

"If you say so," Cloud muttered in return, and his face fell. He mounted Fenrir, turned over its engine, and sped away without another word.

"It's for the best," Tifa reassured herself aloud after she could no longer see him. "Helping me out of pinches only hurt you anyway."

She took a deep breath, did an about face, and turned on Seventh Heaven's 'OPEN' sign. For a few hours, the hustle and bustle of serving her customers would give her all the distraction she needed. She already dreaded the dead-silent end of the night, when she'd have her vacant bar and its apartment all to herself.