Strawberry Wine
by: Pollensalta
Chapter Four
You've been hushed the entire walk, you know.
You're quiet, Tifa.
The redhead dug into the hollow pockets of his black leather jacket and pulled
out a small coin before handing it over to the brunette that strolled languidly
beside him. A gil for your thoughts.
I'm just kind of
Kind of
Tifa finished while palming the coin.
Do tell.
Tiny flakes of pure white snow flew off her bangs when she shook her head
slightly, the strands becoming damp and curly as a result.
It's nothing really, she said hastily.
I'm just having a hard time trusting you and believing that you,
Reno, a former Turk of _Shinra_, are being so friendly towards me. And
flirtatious to boot. It's like a pill I can't swallow.
Reno's Mako eyes peered down at his feet moving below him.
Okay, true, I worked for Shinra and did some pretty mean shit
for them, but that doesn't mean you can't trust me. And Hell,
wasn't I friendly with you before the proverbial shit hit the fan?
Weren't Rude and I your best customers when you ran the Seventh Heaven
Bar?
I know, but I—
Swiftly, Reno glanced up to her and spoke, cutting her off with his frank
words, It's not news to me, it's not news to Rude, and it's
definitely not news to you. But at one point in time, we _were_ friends.
Good friends. Remember that?
Yes. I remember those days. Tifa pursed her lips and glanced
away from him, staring off at the bleak, snow-covered walkways of Kalm.
But how could you consider me a friend? What kind of a friend destroys
your home?
Tifa heard a low groan rumble within Reno's throat when her words had
brought back memories of Sector Seven's demise. She too had wanted to
push away those dreadful memoirs into the recesses of her mind. But every
time she saw that navy uniform or that rebellious mane of red hair, everything
seemed to crash back down on her in an instant.
I didn't do it because I wanted to, Tifa.
She turned her head to face him with a burning glare. Then why?
You know why, the Turk replied, exasperatedly. Direct orders
from President Shinra.
But you-
You think I _wanted_ to do that?! he interrupted her brusquely,
the tone of his voice raising just a pitch. He saw her bristle. Nevertheless,
she fell silent. He continued, It wasn't as if I was the one who
came up with the idea of dropping the Sector Plate. And it wasn't as
if I exactly enjoyed pressing that detonator, breaking Barret's nose,
and trapping you in that Turk Pyramid—okay, so maybe I _did_ get pleasure
from seeing Mister T bleed from the nose like that, but I would have preferred
to do it under other circumstances, y'know?
* * * *
Pale and slender digits massaged his temples, one pair consisting of his
index and middle on either side of his head. His sleek, shoulder-length black
hair moved to some extent with the motion. He forced himself to count to
ten in his thoughts while performing some sort of eased breathing pattern.
He was obviously very annoyed, as he stared dully into the eyes of the redhead
that sat in the lounging chair not too far from him.
I'm not too hunky dory with the idea either, Reno, he
droned, but an order is an order. This is direct. From President Shinra
to Heidegger, from Heidegger to me, and from me to you: _you're_ the
one assigned to do it.
Reno sneered and took a hearty swig of whiskey straight. He exhaled brashly
when the amber colored liquid slid down his throat at such an insane speed
and amount. Why can't you do it? Or Rude?
the word was hissed through gnashed pearly whites,
Rude is assigned to showing the ropes to the new Turk, Elena. And while
you're operating the Plate releaser, I'll be in Sector Five, picking
up the Ancient in the copter. It's all synchronized. Didn't you
listened in on the briefing?
Ain't there someone else who can do the job? I'm not too
peachy keen with the controls of the releaser
And why drop the plate on that entire Sector just to get rid of
those AVALANCHE bastards? Why not just send me, you, Rude, this new Elena
chick, some cannon fodder security officers, and just O.K. Corral anyone
that even looks remotely like a terrorist?
The raven-haired Turk sighed out, falling silent.
Another sip. You understand me, don't you Tseng?
Understanding is not part of my being your immediate supervisor,
Reno Talor. Tseng's words were characteristically icy. And
it shouldn't be a part of you, period. You're a Turk and your job
is to follow the orders bestowed upon you. Whether you choose to follow them
lies on you—though I am sure you know of what happens to those that
choose to defy orders. You remember Elza Van Lich, don't you?
Reno snarled inwardly, downing the last of the bitter alcohol. While he
honored himself as being the second in command of the prestigious Turks regime
of Shinra Inc., he had to admit: he did not particularly like every order
thrown in his direction. A kidnapping here, a severe beating there
They were often the most ludicrous jobs on the Planet, yet the Turks were
required to accept them in a tight-lipped fashion and accomplish them without
fault. Several Turks had opposed Shinra's policies in the past. There
was that Vincent Valentine from about thirty years back. Legend that he was,
he had gone against Professor Hojo's Jenova Project. And where was he
now? Locked up in the basement of a mansion in Nibelheim, or so that lunatic
scientist's reports stated. Reno never bothered to check.
And Elza? Where was she now? Reno had known her since he was recruited
into the Turks. His last memories of her were of a young woman opposing orders
that required the assassination of innocent women and children in some uproar
in Sector Two some months back. She was escorted away from the HQ by members
of SOLDIER, only to never be seen again and to be replaced by this new Elena
person.
Reno never spoke out against his orders until the day Tseng strolled into
the Turks' Lounge while the former had been drinking and coolly told
him to drop the plate onto the Seventh Sector of Midgar. Reno wasn't
exactly sure as to why, but he felt an unexpected fear bubble up inside of
his stomach at what might happen to that little establishment he had come
to frequent and love. And to what might happen to its proprietress no less.
Rude would have had a heart attack if anything serious happened to Tifa.
And Reno Well, he didn't want to think of that
Now, I'm not too sure if you have friends or families or
girlfriends in that Sector, Tseng continued, oblivious to the looks
the firey Turk gave him, but I really don't care. There are far
too many things occurring with this Corporation to neglect because of a personal
problem. Hojo's research, the Neo-Midgar Plan, the Mako reactor
reconstructions-everything. AVALANCHE is an obstacle and needs to be disposed
of. And you're going to do it. End of story.
Tseng gave Reno one last look of what appeared to be disgust before he
departed the Turks' Lounge post haste, leaving the redhead alone within
the room to dwell with his thoughts and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels.
Tifa had given Reno that bottle a few weeks prior in commemoration of his
twenty-fourth birthday. He remembered the words she gave him along with the
gift.
Let it fall, and I'll kill you.
Was that an omen?
* * * *
So, what you're saying is, you didn't want to do it?
Reno nodded his reply.
You could have fooled me, Tifa said with a caustic grin. You
looked pretty smug, even with that injury you sustained. I remember that
day as if it were yesterday.
So do I, Reno added, shrugging and kicking a stray aluminum can
out of his path. I think about it every day.
You do?
Yeah. After hearing that Sector Seven went kaput, Rude must've
drank three six packs in the infirmary for me. And that was before we realized
AVALANCHE was in the HQ, trying to save the Ancient we got. What was her
name again? Earth? Air?
Tifa corrected him.
What you said. Tseng had quite the thing for her. Tifa rolled
her eyes at Reno's apparent one-tracked mind. Anyway, Rude and
I were elated to hear that you were well. The only reason you guys were _not_
attacked in the Mythril Mines was because of me, y'know. I told the
others to let you guys be. I guess I was sort of repenting for what I did
to Sector Seven.
But then work got in the way, so we had to fight in Gongaga—you
weren't there, were you? Oh good, cause some revelations were
made beforehand. Heh heh—Ow! Don't pinch my arm! A pause.
Then there was the Sunken Gelnika. And before that was Wutai. You remember
Wutai, don't you?
Of course I remember Wutai! She wanted to blurt out. How _could_ Tifa
forget? It was there that the lecherous ball of slime known as Don Corneo
had kidnapped Yuffie Kisaragi, right after the mischievous teenager had robbed
Tifa and her friends of their Materia. While AVALANCHE bared the dangers
of fighting enemies without Materia for their search, the Don had taken Yuffie
for his own within the town, along with the female Turk Elena, claiming that
either of the two females was to be his future bride.
It was the first, and only, time that AVALANCHE and the Turks worked side
by side, for they had a common enemy. However, things seemed a bit tense
at first, but Reno and Rude agreed to set aside their differences with and
sought out to seek their comrade, with the help of Tifa, Cloud Strife, and
the late Aeris Gainsborough.
Tifa had never seen Reno act so professional. The way he gave out clues,
reassured Rude (who seemed worried about Elena), searched Da-Chao Mountain,
and disposed of that fat letch for his comrade was rather admirable. That
day, Tifa learned there was more to Reno and The Turks than killing and following
orders from tyrannical superiors.
Yes, I remember Wutai, she finally said.
Bet you loved how I handled everything, huh? The grin on Reno's
face was coy. It made Tifa shiver.
Spare me.
The eleven-story apartment complex Tifa called her home came more into their
view as she and Reno traveled further along the long sidewalk. Soon enough,
the two were upon its threshold.
As Tifa fished through her pockets for the keys to the lobby door, she peered
at Reno. Every now and then, she'd notice him rub his hands together
and blow on them, hoping the combination of the friction and his breath would
keep him warm. It _was_ rather cold, she noticed, and he'd be lucky
to not catch pneumonia on his way back to his home. Wherever that was.
You, uh, wanna come inside? For some coffee?
I've had enough coffee to make me wanna piss like a racehorse,
Tifa, Reno replied.
Lovely imagery.
Reno snickered and took hold of the lobby door Tifa had
swung ajar after she unlocked it. Instantly, he was met with the warmth of
the interior. But if it's to escape this cold, I'll
oblige.
* * * *
Nice place.
Thanks. I just got it like two months ago.
Tifa's apartment was exactly like Reno had presumed it would be: feminine
and clean, with that fresh smell of cinnamon in the air. During his countless
trysts with countless women, he had grown accustomed to that particular smell.
It didn't surprise him when that was the first thing he noticed when
he stepped foot into the martial artist's abode.
Thanks to the dim lights of the apartment, he took everything he saw into
account. A quaint little maple coffee table sat in the center of the living
room, standing atop a neutral colored and patterned thrown rug-all in the
midst of a contemporary black leather living room set consisting of a stationary
sofa, loveseat, and recliner. Either Tifa was a neat freak or she had one
Hell of a personal interior decorator.
His thoughts favored the former when he eyed her gesturing for him to remove
his shoes and his jacket prior to entering her apartment. He obliged, though
not without a sneer.
I don't want you dirtying up my new place, she commented
with a smirk while making her way into the adjacent kitchen to prepare the
drinks.
So how'd you afford all this stuff, anyway? Reno asked loudly
from his locale in the cozy living room.
There was the sound of a running faucet. Three words for you,
Tifa spoke above the hail of water. Mastered All Materia.
Fair enough. The Turk snickered.
He decided to make himself more comfortable while his hostess prepared things
in the kitchen. He took a moment to glance at an array of framed pictures
resting atop a small table beside the sofa. They were mostly of people Reno
did not know, probably relatives of Tifa. One picture, however, did grab
his attention.
It was a picture of the members of AVALANCHE, all standing proudly on a beautiful
green knoll, probably near Rocket Town. He assumed it was a Post-Meteor
photograph, judging from the lack of the Ancient's presence in it. On
the far right of the group stood the legendary Turk, Vincent Valentine himself.
His arms were crossed and he looked not too enthused about taking the photograph.
On the far left side, beside that weird cat thing Hojo was planning to experiment
on was the ninja girl, Yuffie, that was abducted alongside Elena in that
fiasco with Don Corneo nearly a year prior; she didn't exactly stand-she
had timed her jump perfectly for the camera and finished off the rather cute
but immature pose with peace signs.
Reno then took notice of his new boss, Reeve, standing near the center and
looking rather perturbed by the smoke emanating from the cigarette in between
the lips of the pilot known as Cid Highwind, who stood beside the former
Shinra executive thanks to their similarities in height. The tallest one
of the group, Barret Wallace, stood in the back with a cute little girl (Marlene
was it?) perched on his shoulder, mimicking Yuffie's peace signs with
her own stubby little fingers.
Cloud Strife stood in the dead center; one of his hands rested on the hilt
of the massive blade strapped to his back and a small but still confident
grin stretched his lips some. To the blonde's right stood Tifa Lockheart
herself, her hands clasped behind her lithesome figure. Though she smiled
warmly for the camera, Reno noticed a disturbing hint of emotion within her
ruby colored eyes. Was it a longing for the one that stood beside her? Or
was it loneliness?
What're you doing?
Tifa's voice startled him, nearly causing him to drop the frame he held.
Nothing, just looking at these pictures, Reno coolly replied,
setting the frame back down and turning around.
Oh. Well, enjoy. The brunette set a wooden breakfast-in-bed tray
down onto the coffee table. Two mugs of hot cider and a plate of ginger snaps
decorated the tray.
Man, Tifa, you sure know how to please a guy! Reno eagerly took
a mug and a handful of the cookies in hand and began to indulge himself.
Tifa couldn't help but frown as crumbs from the cookies sprinkled onto
her spotless floor and couch. She nearly gasped when it appeared that some
of the cider was going to spill. Reno, could you be at least a little
more careful?
You're making a mess!
Ah, don't worry about that babe, he said with a shrug before
wolfing down a cookie. No harm done.
I'm gonna harm _you_ in a minute! Tifa sputtered, hastily
gathering some fallen crumbs into a small pile with folded paper towels.
Sheesh! It's just a bunch of crumbs! You should see my place!
Tifa wrinkled her nose at the mere thought. No, I shouldn't.
Oh, you should babe, you should. Reno flashed her a wicked grin.
A hand came upon Tifa's hip. If it's anything like I imagine
it to be, I can just visit a pig sty. Same difference, right?
Puh! You wish!
Reno nodded and crossed his arms over his chest with a self-assured countenance.
I'm not anal about little itty bitty things like crumbs yet my
pad's still fresh and clean.
_This_ I have _got_ to see, Tifa remarked.
Okay, then how about tomorrow? For dinner? If my place is a dump, then
I'm free to do your bidding. He held his hand out towards her,
issuing the challenge.
Fine. You're on. Tifa shook his hand with a firm grip, smirking.
And I'll cook, Reno added.
_You_? Cook?
Hey. It's a damned _fact_ that Reno Talor can whip the Frugal
Gourmet's ass in cooking.
In response to that, Tifa giggled into her palm. But she acquiesced to his
offer to cook, nevertheless.
Poor Reno did not what he had gotten himself into.
~Fin?~
Disclaimer: All characters here are properties of their respective
owners. I'm not making money out of this.
Author's Notes: How was that? Too long? Boring? =|
Please let me know what you guys think! I live for reviews
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