"Tifa, you have to say something!" Kiri insisted worriedly, and I whispered "no."
"Tifa, I'm coming over. Is that okay?"
"Don't you have... family? Or something?"
"The family stuff is all tomorrow. I'll be over right away, okay? Like five or ten minutes. I'll break all kinds of laws."
"....okay," I said, barely above a whisper, and then I listened to the dial tone for a bit before I hung up the phone. It took her longer than five or ten minutes. I don't know how long it was, maybe half an hour. She lived in lower Junon. I opened the door and she stepped inside, making trivial noises about the cold, and then she looked at me.
"Okay. We have to do something about you."
"I have to get there. I have to see him," I said. I was shaking, I realized. How had I not noticed that before?
"On Christmas Eve? Tifa. Honey. You're not a doctor, you can't possibly do a lick of good, and it's going to be impossible to..." She trailed off, studying my face. "I guess it couldn't hurt to try."
"I have to," I repeated.
"Well, of course," she agreed, in a tone I remembered my mother taking when I was young. She walked me over to the couch, pushed down on my shoulders until I sat. My cat jumped down from his favorite armchair and wound about her feet.
"Maybe I can get a chocobo," I suggested.
"Tifa, you've clearly lost your mind. It's understandable, but... Do you mind if I make the arrangements?" I just shook my head in reply, and she looked at me, confused. "You don't mind, or no I shouldn't?"
"I don't mind," I said. "My credit cards are in my purse." She nodded, and walked away. My cat raced ahead of her and jumped up onto the kitchen table while she rummaged through my purse. She was talking, but none of it registered. The cat seemed to decide she wasn't going to pay attention to her and returned to me, jumping up into my lap to sniff my chin. I scratched him behind the ears while she talked on the phone. I didn't even have to try to pay attention to that.
"Okay, Tifa, we got you a three a.m. flight," she said. "People still aren't flying as much as before the changes. Do you have anyplace to stay there?"
"I don't know."
"You know his friends, don't you? Do you have their phone numbers?"
"No," I said, staring blankly at my lap. My cat was kneading my leg, and it hurt, but at a distance. I heard Kiri saying "okay," again, and she started bustling around while I sat there and tried not to let my teeth chatter.
She must have packed my clothes for me, because I didn't remember doing it but I had a carry-on bag by the time I got to the airport. I didn't remember much of anything, honestly, beyond that video, which they kept showing. Maybe I slept for a while, or maybe I just watched the TV. I can't imagine that I slept. In her car on the way to the airport, she asked me about feeding my cat, and I just handed her my entire keychain. At the airport, she hugged me goodbye and told me to call her once I got any news.
On the plane, I closed my eyes and tried very hard to sleep, just to escape thinking. At first I kept jerking awake whenever I dozed off enough for my mouth to fall open; when I finally got to sleep, I had an anxiety dream where I had to get off the plane, if I could only wake up, but I couldn't seem to wake up. Once I climbed up out of that one, I looked out the window – we'd flown into daylight – and bit my fingernails down to the quick. I hadn't done that since Mom was dying, over ten years ago.
By the time I'd stepped off the airplane, I had no more nail left to bite and the shock had worn off. Now I just felt frightened and confused and sick, and I'd realized all the problems with my situation. For one thing, I didn't know what hospital they'd have him in, or how to get there, or even if he was in the city of Midgar, though presumably Kiri had tried to send me to the right place. I didn't know if he was even alive, though I didn't let myself touch that thought. I trudged out of the plane, biting down hard on my reaction to watching all these people hugging loved ones. At least most of them were hugging goodbye; it was three on Christmas afternoon. I'd managed to skip the holiday. I still felt like crying.
And I saw Reno. He looked almost as unkempt as he used to. His face was shadowed with stubble, his eyes red from lack of sleep or tears – I wasn't about to ask – and he held a pair of sunglasses. I went cold all over again, my eyes flicking from his face to the glasses and back to his face.
He understood, or guessed. "The big guy's in surgery. They took these off, I'm holding 'em for him. That's all. C'mon, let's go."
He started walking, and I trailed after him, trying to take deep breaths to calm myself. Not an easy task with the pace he was setting. "Is Rude okay?" I asked, trying to catch up.
"Well, he's in surgery, so by definition, he could be better. But last I heard, he wasn't dead."
"You're just a little ray of sunshine," I snapped at his back. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Meeting you, dipshit. You were planning to walk to St. Justin's?"
"I meant how did you know I was coming," I explained, too weary to fight him any further.
"We called you a couple hours ago, your roommate answered the phone, gave me the flight number 'n' all. Will you get a move on?"
I couldn't remember that, either, but that didn't entirely surprise me. Or maybe Kiri had gone back to my place after dropping me off. "Can't you call Elena and find out how he's doing right now?" I asked, as I trailed after him. He walked amazingly fast.
"They don't allow cell phones in the hospital, messes with the instruments or somethin'," he said over his shoulder, the last words he spoke to me until we arrived. And all he said then was "We're here," I guess because I hadn't jumped out fast enough.
Elena was sitting huddled in the waiting room. I wondered briefly if anyone were guarding Reeve, but then, he might be in the hospital too. Or he might have other guards besides the Turks. She looked up at us once we neared and smiled. "He's awake, he's fine. His parents were already in to see him, but they went to get food, so you get him all to yourself," she said, and then she started saying other things, a lot of medical terms and something about the hours of surgery – she said something like ten, but that seemed like a lot, so maybe I misheard. The next thing I knew a nurse was directing me to his room.
At least it was a real room. I'd been fearing the intensive care ward. I remembered being in one myself, although vaguely, and I remembered, altogether too clearly, visiting my mother in a different one. Rude's treatment was at least far less tube-intensive than Mom's had been, and he was sitting up, pale but apparently healthy, although he looked strange in a hospital gown.
"Hey, baby," he greeted me, uncharacteristically, and I burst into tears. He looked horrified. "I'm sorry. I won't call you that any more. Tifa, please stop crying."
"Don't you ever do that to me again!" I sobbed, as I sank into the chair by his bed.
"I won't. Promise. Do you want me not to call you Tifa anymore, either?"
"I meant getting shot!"
"I was trying to be funny. Cheer you up."
"It's not funny! You scared the shit out of me!" I rested my elbows on my knees and shoved my knuckles at my eyes, trying to make myself stop.
"I'm sorry," he said, and I felt a touch on my arm. I looked up, and he brushed at the tears with his fingertips.
I felt my face trying to form itself into a smile, not very successfully. "I think this is the worst Christmas I've ever had," I told him. "And some of them really sucked."
He looked offended. "I survived," he pointed out. "And you got to see me. Isn't it getting better now?"
"No ego problems with you," I teased half-heartedly.
"Nope," he agreed cheerfully, but the smile faded a bit once he looked at me. He ran his hand down my jaw. "You're wearing the earrings," he noted.
"Yeah, I got them open right before I found out..."
"Just reminded me of you. The red. Good color on you. And I was pretty sure you had pierced ears." He took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.
I nodded absently, but I was willing to try to let him cheer me up or at least distract me. "Zangan hated it, was always giving me these dire predictions about people ripping my ears off in a fight," I said, and he grinned hazily.
"He taught you? Hey, I bet it was you."
"What was me?"
"The girl," he said, as if that explained everything. I turned a glare on him, and he elaborated. "Whenever he thought I wasn't working hard enough, he'd taunt me with this thirteen-year-old girl in Nibelheim with a stronger punch than mine, stuff like that. It must have been you, right?"
"Because there were no other girls in Nibelheim," I retorted. "I guess it might have been. I didn't know he taught you."
"Yeah," he said, I guess affirming that Zangan had been his master too, and then he added, "You're so beautiful." It really had nothing to do with anything, but then, he was entitled to be a bit loopy. I felt the tears threatening to spill over. I stood up, trying not to let him see me crying again, but he hadn't let go of my hand, so I leaned down to hug him cautiously. His arms went around me, reassuringly solid. I buried my face against his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, stroking my hair.
I tried not to sniffle noisily in his ear. I was bent at the waist, not the most comfortable or dignified of positions, but I didn't want to pull away right then. "I missed you," I admitted, very quietly.
"I missed you too," he whispered. "I love you." I still didn't pull away. I just stayed as I was for a long moment, trying to figure out what I was feeling. It wasn't any clearer when I finally did stand up.
He must have been thinking too. "You don't have to deal with that," he said. "Blame it on the anesthetic."
".....I.... just.... it...."
He shook his head. "You need to go. Get some rest."
"I... yeah. I guess I am tired, now that I think about it."
"Yeah," he said, but he waited until I managed a wan smile before he squeezed my hand and let go. It wasn't until later that I started worrying that he'd been trying to get rid of me.
When I got back out to the waiting room, I noticed the middle-aged couple sitting with Elena. I didn't see Reno anywhere. The woman had mostly-gray hair, about shoulder-length, and the man was bald. Elena stood up, saying, "Oh, Tifa, we forgot introductions. These are Mr. and Mrs. Rude. Ma'am, sir, this is Tifa Lockhart." Oh, good, I remember thinking. I get to meet his parents. Without him around for moral support. And I spilled coffee down this shirt, too.
"Heard a lot about you," Rude's father said, shaking my hand with a grip that came close to 'crushing.' "Good things," he added, apparently interpreting my grimace of pain as nervousness. He wasn't entirely wrong.
"I'm Beatrice, and this is my husband Gerik," she added, shaking my hand as well. I became even more convinced they were inspecting me. At least I was wearing nice normal clothes that didn't make me look like a tramp: jeans, a blouse, and boots, the same things I'd worn at work. But my face was puffy, my clothes were wrinkled and stained, and I smelled like airplane coffee and nervous sweat. I guess it was understandable under the circumstances, but it wasn't the first impression I'd wanted to make.
"It's nice to meet you... I'm sorry, I'm just a mess right now..."
"Don't worry about it," she replied, and then, to my massive surprise, hugged me. "I'm just as bad," she added, and I noticed her eyes were red-rimmed behind the glasses. "He was kind of groggy when we saw him... how'd he seem to you?"
"Maybe a little out of it, but he was joking around and everything."
"Well, that's good!" she exclaimed, and turned toward her husband. "You want to go see him again?" He just nodded, and she gave me a slight wave before they turned to go.
As they left, I sank into one of those excruciating waiting-room chairs, and Elena handed me a tissue. "See, he's okay," she told me. "You have proof and everything now."
"It's just so weird to see him without a tie," I said, the tears breaking on the last word. She patted my shoulder while I tried to compose myself again. Too much tension on too little rest. A change of subject. That would help. "Elena, what's going on?"
"Okay, if I tell you anything, you have to promise me a couple things."
"Yes?"
"You have to promise to kill yourself to avoid capture by the media. We'll give you cyanide tabs."
"Elena, um..."
"I'm sort of kidding. A little. You could also open a vein."
"Elena...."
"Because if you let anything slip, the press secretary will get hold of you, and trust me, suicide is far preferable to what she'd do about a leak. But okay. The gunman, whose name I'm not telling you, was a member of this neo-Avalanche group. He—"
"What?" I interrupted.
"Means he identifies himself with them – identified, actually, since he's dead – used some of the slogans, and don't look so guilty, it wasn't your idea for him to go nuts – and wanted to take down anything that remains of Shinra. Like Josh, which is just so stupid since if ever there was— I'm sorry, you know all about that. I mean, he was the one who had the Mako refineries dismantled! Not to mention the collaboration, for which he was arrested, so it's not like it's not— okay, yeah, sorry."
"He's all right, though? Reeve, I mean?"
"Yeah. He was shot in the arm, but he's been treated and now he's safely at home, which is why I'm here. He has a broken arm, but nothing too serious, and the campaign people like it, think it makes him look heroic, so that's cool, I guess. I think they said he's gone up in the polls. He was all, 'great, I get to be president because they feel sorry for me,' but it's better than losing, right? Reno's doing... things... which I probably shouldn't even have mentioned."
"Do you think there are others besides the person who actually did the shooting?"
"Mmph," she replied, her lips compressed.
"Don't worry. If I'm taken prisoner I'll swallow my tongue."
"Okay, good, but I still can't tell you any more. Listen, is there anything else you want to tell him? I'm going to see him after his parents, but we need to leave him alone so he can rest."
"Pfft. Rest? In a hospital? They wake you up every fifteen minutes to jab you with needles just because they feel like it."
"Okay, that may be, but we still have to follow the rules. And you could probably use some food or something. Do you have a place to stay?"
"Oh, Lord. No, I don't. And I should probably call Kiri to give her directions about feeding my cat."
"Here. Use my phone," she said, handing it to me, and after wondering what federal regulations I was disobeying just by holding it, I stepped outside to make the call, walking to some distance away from the building. I'd hoped there might be a sign or something, letting me know where it was okay to start using the phone, but I didn't see one. A young man was smoking, and we shared one of those tight smiles people use when they're in the same situation with a stranger. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to remember Kiri's number. Or the bar's number. It wasn't coming to me. I'd been awake for well over twenty-four hours, not counting the torturous non-sleep on the plane, and I no longer had the adrenaline to keep me going.
"You okay?" he asked me.
"Just trying to remember some phone numbers..." I said, trying to sound cheerful. Outside a hospital. Such a great policy. He could be waiting around while everyone he loved went through brain surgery.
"Good news?" he asked, tentatively.
"Yeah, he's gonna be fine," I said. "What about you?"
"My wife's in labor. I need to go back in, but is it wrong that I'm not thinking 'the beautiful miracle of birth,' I'm thinking 'my wife's in a lot of pain and I really don't like this'? And now I'm stalling."
"I think that's kind of normal. They say it's worth it, though," I told him, and he smiled ruefully.
"Yeah," he agreed, grinding out the cigarette in the designated ashtray rather than on the ground. That was the first time I'd ever witnessed a smoker do anything of the sort. Then I realized I'd remembered the bar's number.
I called it, and got Kiri's number, along with a lecture about jetlag, from Tir. It was around eleven their time; I guess the bar really is Tir's life. When I called Kiri, she assured me that she'd been up since dawn, as her brother's kids were young. "So he's okay? You sound like he's okay," she added.
"Yeah, he is," I told her, feeling that it was more official now that I could pass on good news to someone else. I gave her directions about cat food, told her she was welcome to steal my furniture if she thought she could get it outside, provided she kept my cat alive, and accepted her offer of naming the cat. She also apologized for the way she broke the news about Rude, and after I picked on her about that we said goodbye. I poked at the phone for a bit, unable to figure out how to turn it off, and then fled back inside to ask Elena's help. She was already back in the waiting room, and as I walked in she stood, smoothing her clothes. "Ready to go?"
"To sleep? Yes."
"No, no, food first, then sleep. We're trying to get you on a normal schedule for here. You can stay at my place, unless you really object. I won't be in much to bother you, anyway. We've got work to do."